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[WP] It's exam day in Superhero Academy. Usually, tests are done in special rooms that nullify powers. But there's been a blackout, and you, the proctor, must stop a bunch of superpowered kids from cheating. | Our nullified power room had the space for 50 pupils at a time. So in the last 3 days since the blackout I've had to research 50 students, their powers and all the potential ways each one can cheat this exam. I've barely slept and I am very grouchy and am going to be in contact with my union if I don't get paid for the excessive amount of overtime I've had to put in to make sure these still go through without a hitch.
I glare out over the small hall of students with a stern, tired look. "Despite our attempts to halt the rumors, I can confirm we have had some minor issues with this rooms nullifying ability. This does not however mean any of you can use your powers. If me or my fellow proctors catch you using your powers for -any- reason after we start, you'll be retaking the entire year and severely punished. Am I clear? ... Good. You may now turn over your papers and start the exam."
I walk over to my co-workers and we have a quiet group meeting - there's a few special cases which we need to keep an extra close watch on, telepaths in particular but my greatest worry was J.
J was a splitter. That is to say, he could split into multiple versions of himself and they'd all be able to see, think and hear what the others were doing up to a range of 100 metres... from what we know. with the residential apartments of the students just next door we knew it'd be all too easy for him to find a corner, hop on a laptop and google each and every answer.
Immediately I send one Protector to search surrounding area and dorms, making sure there wasn't a single extra copy of himself around and sneaking in answers.
The issue now was doing this we were even more underhanded. Only 3 of us to keep an eye on 50 potential cheating kids. We go out on our initial patrols and look over each and every paper with scrutiny. With my watchful eye I spot something suspicious - one kid was looking at his watch frequently, despite the large clock showing the time remaining up front.
I walk over and stare him down - he doesn't notice I'm looking at him specifically but jumps a little when he sees me staring down at him. "HighWire, you seem awfully tense. Is something wrong with your watch?" he stutters something about just keeping a close eye on the time and being nervous. I couldn't disprove him at first but then... then I hear what was wrong. The watch wasn't ticking in seconds...it was ticking in morse code.
"So your ability to re-wire any electronic with your mind has nothing to do with the fact that your watch just so happens to be 'ticking' seemingly random letters of A, B, C and D off in morse code? Get out."
He lowered his head in shame and picked up his papers, and was escorted out. One down...
Then I see... something as the doors to release the student open, a blur of some sorts? I look over the desks then spot one extra empty desk. I blink and then see it filled again by Light-speed Sophie, our 'speeder' student... I swear under my breath for being so careless. With her speed she could have dashed out and gotten answers but I had no way of proving it. As the doors shut a moment later I walk over to one of my colleagues and whisper him something. He nods and looks over to Sophie then the door before getting back to his patrols.
Twenty minutes go by with nothing... No more disturbances. Then I hear a loud grunt of frustration and I storm over to the student who'd broken the silence "Quiet! We are in an exam!" I yell down at them, not in the mood to deal with some kids whinging. Then I see who it was and immediately regret my decision.
'Little' Barbra turns and yells back "These questions are bullshit! Our lecturers didn't teach us half of these subjects in the lessons!" her academy wide temper flips and she grows out of proportion to three times her previous size, her body soon heavy and bulky enough that the plastic chair she'd been sitting in explodes into pieces and at the same time she angrily flips the desk high into the air.
My fellow Proctor is more on the ball than I am - seeing the potential issue he used his own powers and before things got out of hand, used his telekinesis to pick up the bits of chair debris, desk flying through the air and now angrily flailing student up into the air and calmly 'escorted' her out, going with her to make sure she calmed down. I followed and shut the door behind them with a huff.
Now down to just me and one other Protector to keep watch on 48 students tiredly when suddenly J outcries. "NONONO! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! J2 WAS JUST TAKING A NAP FOR ME BECAUSE I WAS UP ALL NIGHT STUDYING! YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!"
I looked up at the clock and groaned silently... Two and a half hours still to go. This was going to suck... | My first ever save was in 1953 when a runaway trolley crashed through the city, sending people scattering on all sides. I’d gained my powers just a week before in a freak laboratory accident and was still coming to terms with them, but when I saw the carnage I went on instinct and sprang into action.
The photo on the paper was great, I was helping a little girl off the trolley next to the imprint of my hands in the metal, the headline read “Atomic Kid Saves the Day” and from that day on, that’s how I was known. Later I became Atomic Man, but in my head I was always a kid, always playing with power I didn’t really understand and so I always respected it.
I was never the *most* powerful, but power doesn’t make the hero – just look at Doctor Pluton, he had all the potential in the world, but when the DeadHead Gang stole the sun, he needed my help and the help of the White Marksman to stop them and reignite our star. Heh, good day, and good times.
Being a hero is a young kid’s game though and these days more than ever. I can hardly keep track of all their names, let alone their powers, but at least technology has advanced to the point where it can help me. When I first started training at the Hero Academy each kid had a single paper file, but now it’s all stored in something called the “cloud” and I can retrieve any piece of information or any training record immediately. I guess the future is okay in some ways.
We have nearly six hundred kids here now, can you imagine? Six hundred kids, most with the power to remake the world! When I started there were just six of us and now only Lady Eternity and I are left and she’s retired, moved down to Florida so I heard. I’m the oldest one left in the game and on days like this I really feel it.
Exam day, today 42 of them are going to face their final test, going to see if they can earn a place with one of the teams around the world. I’ve taught these kids for years, helped them grow and discover who they are, but today I have to be firm and fair, some will pass and go on to protect the world, but some will end up in the engineering or repair corp, their powers no less useful, but put to more direct benefit of humanity
“Electrum.” They all sit in folded chairs outside the room, waiting to be called in, waiting to take their turn. This kid, Electrum, it’s his last shot to show that he has what it takes, that he can be a hero. I see he’s seated at the back and he stands and walks forward, a few of the others reaching out to touch him as he passes to wish him luck, but he reaches the cube door soon enough.
One last breath and he enters and meets my eye and then looks behind to where Phatasma is waiting for him. He passed me and sits in the chair that is backed up to mine and it is finally time. I feel him sit and then a hand touches my head and it’s time for the test to begin.
It used to be we’d take turns, but as they died off one by one I took over more of the testing and eventually it became the standard. They tell me it’s for the best, that it makes it more standard, but I still feel sorry for the poor bastards, they really don’t know what they’re getting in to.
I clear my mind and let Phatasma enter it and at last it begins. She’s done this before and so she finds what she wants quickly and bundles up my memories and feelings into a group, ordering them neatly for maximum effect. These kids, these poor kids will have to face horrors unimaginable, but they’ll never have to face what I saw in the sixty years of my career. Nations burned, monsters sucking the souls from people and devouring their bodies, they’ll never see it live, but they’ll see it now.
The test gives them the worst I have to offer, my greatest pains and fears and puts it into their brain where they are forced to deal with it all at once. Most can’t, they crack and Phatasma feels it, pulls it back and lets them go, removing all traces. These kids will do the safer jobs where the fate of the world will never be in their hands.
I feel Electrum as the memories start to flow and this cocky kid from Queens with vast power over the electromagnetic spectrum almost immediately freaks out. It’s too much, way, way too much and Phatasma backs off immediately, not even getting to the worst of it. I feel her work swiftly, smoothing over the pain and taking away the memories, only the successful are left with them. Electrum has failed and now he’ll be blacked out – he’ll never be a hero.
Then it’s done and he stands, confused. I stand and lay a hand on his shoulder and he understands, he failed and I see the pain in his eyes. He’s angry, but he wont go back, Phatasma has seen to that. in a few days he’ll start to really look forward to his new job and by the time he starts, he’ll think he wanted it all along.
I swallow hard, the memories are hard to take, but I am used to them now, I have lived them over and over again. I turn back to the group and signal, it’s time for the next student.
| 2016-01-20T04:16:13 | 2016-01-20T04:09:54 | 53 | 19 |
[WP] A mathematician on the brink of insanity has spent years locked in his apartment, attempting to find a formula that proves God exists. As he nears to a breakthrough, God shows up to explain why the proof shouldn't be made public. | "YES!" I screamed joyously, jumping up and down as my voice echoed through the empty halls of my University. I'd been snowed in for a day now and used the facility to keep working on my research...who would've thought I could actually do it?
*I've proved that God exists, undeniably and with certainty. I'll be the most famous human being in history, with this. Nothing can stop me now.*
Well, nothing except God, obviously...but why would he do that?
Before I could ponder it all fully, an old man appeared in a chair behind me. Literally, it was out of nowhere- I was snowed in and sure that no one else was there with me.
"Yo," the old man said hoarsely, a smile on his face. "Nice work."
"Uh....are you the janitor?" I asked, puzzled by his presence.
"Nope. I'm God." He looked smug when he said that.
"Why would God look like you? And he would certainly exhude more humility."
"Hey, man. You guys have faces, I don't- so when I'm here, I'm going to make facial expressions. They're so much fun! Anyway, can I double check your work there?"
I immediately recoiled in defense. No stranger would be getting near my work- I'd defend it with my life.
"Here, how can I prove it to you...umm, you touched your mother's butt when you were 13 and she was asleep, on Thanksgiving day," he said, smirking again.
I flushed with blood, turning beet red. How could anyone possibly know that? Still, I would not waver.
"You could be the Devil," I told him.
"Ugh. Fine." He snapped his fingers and in an instant my papers were in his hands. I was powerless. After a moment of reading through them, he nodded his head. "Yup, this is the real thing alright."
I started jumping around again. I think I cried a little, too.
"I certainly didn't expect to have to deal with this so soon. You're an incredible development," he explained, tone shifting to seriousness. He snapped his fingers and my papers turned to ash, as my will and my hope did in that same instant.
"Why," I plead through my shock and horror, "Why would you do that to me?"
"You're thinking of all this wrong. What's the point to this little game if everyone knows I'm real? It completely defeats the purpose of what I've set up here."
"All what? People would stop murdering, they'd stop raping and hurting each other. This would be the best thing for mankind...we could move forward as a species."
"There's no point in trying to explain this to you." He snapped his fingers again and I felt a strange sensation wash over me.
I looked down and saw blood pouring from my abdomen. I'd practically been turned inside out. I dropped to my knees as he approached me.
"Sorry, but I can't risk this," he whispered, malice ripe in his voice. "You ruin what I have set up here, and it ruins the next stage; it ruins the whole game, for that matter."
In an instant, he was gone. In another, I was as well. | "Look, man, you're crazy." said the cat.
"I've spent YEARS proving this formula! It's not crazy, I"M NOT CRAZY! The proof is in the math!" Larry screamed across the room at the cat while hold a shoe in a threatening manner, "God does exist as the unifying principle of time! Because time is cubed! 4 times, for 4 days in one day! People need to know!"
"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror, dude? You look like a cave man took a swan dive into a dumpster." The cat lethargically laid across the top of the badly worn sofa, "You really ought to take a nice warm shower and freshen up a bit before you start jumping to these conclusions."
"Don't you SEE though?!" Larry gestured at his gibberish filled whiteboard, "God is Time and the government is mathamatically covering it up! They put floride in the shower to poison me when I bathe because they don't want me to know the TRUTH!"
He pouted a bit, "And I'm out of soap."
the cat yawned, "You stopped taking your meds again, haven't you? You know that we only start talking with each other when you stop taking your meds. You really ought to calm down, man. Then take a shower and cool off. This equation stuff is way too metaphysical."
"I don't need the meds! They muzzle me. Because THEY don't want people to know the truth!" Larry paused as a horrifing realization dawned upon him, "You're with them, aren't you? You little Satan! DEMON CAT, you're trying to keep the world from knowing about the GOD TIME CUBE!" He rushed at the cat in a fit of insane rage, but the cat was too quick for him and leaped away. It then quickly hid under the nearby cabinet, again.
After some time, and a good bit of ranting, Larry started sobbing. He was desprate for companionship, which only the cat provided. Maybe this time he finally went to far and the cat would never crawl out from whatever hold it hid in. Maybe the satanic government agents who bugged his apartment finally stole the cat away from him. He couldn't be sure.
He heard a low purr, and something brush up against his back. The cat came back, rubbing up against him and then settling into his lap.
"We cool man, but seriously, you gotta take your meds." The cat softly purred.
"But...but then you'll stop talking to me again. I don't...I don't want to be lonely anymore." sobbed Larry as he stroked the cat.
"Dude, I'm a cat. You gotta meet some new peeps. You remember that support group that came by a few weeks ago? You oughta join them. But you gotta take your meds."
Larry was quiet for a bit, aside from the occasion sniffle. He then nodded slowly, "Ok...ok..I'l...I'll.. take the meds..."
He got up and found the medicine buried under some more mathematical proofs of God's existance as Time Cubed. As he popped the lide open and poured some of the meds into his hand he turned to the cat and said mournfully, "You won't leave me will you? Even when I take the meds?"
"Naw, man, I'm always here. You got the best place in the building to lay out and catch some rays by that window there."
"Oh...Okay" Larry then took the medication and waited for the world to become gray once more. This time, perhaps, he'd find more meaning to it than attempting to prove the unprovable. | 2016-01-24T07:46:05 | 2016-01-24T05:56:47 | 85 | 53 |
[WP] The daily life of ex-assassin turned high school teacher. | “What?” the sullen, combative face in front of me belched. “You can’t prove nothing. What you gonna do? Mardy cow.”
I closed my eyes. I drew breath. I gripped a whiteboard marker firmly in my right hand, running my thumb over the ridges in the cap, picking at them with my nail.
In a flash of lightning and rage, I jammed the marker firmly into the miscreant’s face, lodging it in his right eye socket. He screamed, flailed. Removing the marker from his right eye, I stabbed it immediately into his left, relishing the feel of the squishing pop beneath my makeshift weapon. I shoved my elbow under his chin, the nervous bobbing of his Adam’s apple and racing pulse a ticking bomb against my cool flesh. “This,” I growled.
I opened my eyes and stared down at the child. Monotone, I said, “You have a choice. You can leave the classroom and take yourself to Isolation, or I will ring for backup to remove you, and you will be in much more trouble. We will talk about this later, with your parents.”
Dwayne humphed, collected his belongings, flipped me off, and then stalked out of the classroom, swearing.
Lunchtime. It couldn’t come soon enough. I twisted the handle on the staffroom door and smiled at the steam rising from the just-about-to-finish-boiling kettle. Opening the cupboard, I discovered that my “Keep Calm and Pretend It’s on the Lesson Plan” mug was missing. A thief in our midst. I borrowed a plain white one (reserved for visitors) instead and removed a sachet of “Calming Chamomile” tea from my bag.
As I reached for the beckoning kettle, a blubbery hand beat mine to it, picked it up, and drained it all into a mug. MY mug. “Sorry,” he simpered, “looks like I got the last of it.” He shrugged, replaced the kettle – without refilling it – and turned his back.
Tapping him on the shoulder, I muttered, “Excuse me, I think you’ve got my mug.”
He looked at it. “Yeah, probably. Nice one!”
“No, look, that is MY mug. Please give it back. It was a gift from a friend.”
Crossing his arms over his sweaty stomach, he glared at me. “Maybe you shouldn’t have left it in the staffroom then. Christ, you women get heated up so easily.”
I closed my eyes. Smashing the plain white visitors’ mug against the countertop, I relished in the shattering shriek of porcelain on metal. I jammed the broken handle into the bulbous chin quivering in front of me, snatched my mug back, and threw the contents of it in his doughy face, grinning as red, blistering burns burst over his cheeks. “Now who heats up easily?” I sneered.
I opened my eyes, glared at the man and said, “Please just make sure to wash it when you’re finished.”
The final bell. Home time. I looked at my “Keep Calm” mug and smiled. My mantra. The reason I’d chosen this mundane life. No more running. No more fearing for my life. Just day-to-day problems of teenagers, homework, marking, parents’ evenings…
Just as I reached the exit, the Head of Year 10 approached, followed by Dwayne and an older woman. “Oh good,” he said. “I was just coming to find you. Dwayne and his mother would like to meet with you about the incident in your class today.”
“Perfect,” I said, leading them into the classroom, as the Head of Year disappeared into his office, promising to return shortly. Taking a deep breath, I began my carefully rehearsed and oft-repeated spiel. “Dwayne can be a very lovely boy, but-“
“Oi,” the woman interrupted. “I ain’t having you kicking him out of your lessons. He’s here to learn and you’re here to teach him. I pay my taxes, so I pay your salary, you know. I’ve half a mind to sue you for messing up his education and stopping him learning in your class.”
I picked up a spool of thick thread that I use for hanging up classroom displays and ran my fingers over it, grounding myself in the rough touch of the fabric, pulling out lengths at a time and wrapping them around my palm. Dwayne’s mother continued. “If you hadn’t wound him up, he’d have been fine. And the school calling me, dragging me out of work because you can’t do your job? While he’s at school he’s your problem.”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. “You have said one thing that’s true. You only have half a mind.”
I opened my eyes and pulled the string taut between my hands.
(Edited - clarified a word.) | All it said on the slip was 'Weaponry Training: 1:50'.
Nobody had actually had the class yet, and the older students claimed to know nothing about the mysterious lesson etched in our thoughts. Of course, gossip was gossip, springing up like a hydra with one too-many heads and no way to stop it.
Some kids speculated we'd be using guns. Of course, anyone with some substantial brain matter would realise this was ridiculous, but we're dealing with high school students here.
Some parents even pulled their children out.
"Really, I don't feel my precious son Kevin (He's a special child, incredible gifts that have not been tapped into, ones that only a parent can see in their wonderful child, as I'm sure you know, Mr. Rusin)- Oh, where was I? Yes, I don't feel that Kevin,"
Here Mrs. Valentine pursed her witch-like lips and sighed sadly and rather exaggeratedly. "Can really take such classes. I'm sure his talents will be recognised better at Stonewall High." Mrs. Valentine paused for dramatic tension, and failing to receive her gasp of dismay from the principle, smacked her sticky lips and left, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye and instead wiping off half her mascara in one swipe.
We all turned up (Bar Kevin, but he couldn't tell the difference between cats and dogs anyway) on Thursday for the lesson. The class was... Small. In fact, there were only five of us. Following excessive bubble-gum chewer Maya inside, I took a seat near the front of the classroom.
Our teacher was... Dark. And not in the rascist way; in the way the shadows are black. His eyes were steely blue, and he wore a simple cloak that showed off his lithe body. I could practically hear Maya swoon from across the classroom.
But what shocked the rest of us was the wall. It used to house paintings made by junior school. Now it looked like someone had given those kids a copy Skyrim. The wall was lined with wicked blades, a celestial, shining crescent that dripped with purple blood; what looked like multiple swords mashed together to create some kind of macabre, bloody, pronged lance.
I was starting to regret not following in Kevin's footsteps.
Not really, Kevin is a douche.
The little psycho Ace whispered to me, staring at the blades: "Are those fucking real?" He looked half excited and half horrified by that prospect. I scoffed. "Don't you write enough gory horror to know?"
Obviously the blades were fake.
Obviously.
That's what I thought, until he unsheathed a bleating hog from a previously unnoticed box. It was runty and small; loping around on its mismatched legs.
"Aww - smack - wwww! How cute!" Maya stated, both chewing her bubblegum and talking at the same time. "Are we, like - schmuck - gonna take care- " Maya's annoying mouth lay slack jawed in milliseconds.
The teacher had selected the celestial blade and brought it down on the pig's head. In one flawless sweep, he flicked the head so it landed on Maya's desk.
"Chew on that, bitch." He muttered, shoving the pig's body into a sack that lay by his hip.
Maya screamed, her gum (which had never seen the light of day) falling out of her mouth without a second's remorse.
We were now down to four.
"Listen up, slimy punks! I'm here to teach you how to kill! How to maim! How to do my job!" The man cackled, stepping into the dimly lit shadows behind his desk.
A knife blade swept through the air, narrowly missing my head. How had he appeared next to me, when I'd only just seen him move behind his desk?
I had more pressing matters to worry about. Ace, the writer who enjoyed horror, was now the Prima Donna of such a scene himself. His head rolled on the floor, stuck in a sickly grin.
Behind me, Jackson and the only other one, Verity, made a move towards the door.
The man flung his knife, pinning the door shut right between the prime bitch Verity's perfectly manicured features and obviously fake nails.
She screamed.
The man waved his hand. Suddenly, as if the air was sucked out of her, Verity could not speak. Her blonde hair fluttered as if amidst a gust of wind.
Jackson, the artist, sat back down. At least he was sensible.
I envied Kevin, if such a thing was possible.
"Listen up, royal brats! I need an apprentice, and I need one now! You three are ever-so-slightly less retarded than the rest, so I'll be training you three to take over my business!"
With a flourish of his silky black cape, the teacher encroached us three in darkness.
The man smiled. Retired as he was, he needed someone to continue his business...
Or three someone's. And as he'd once selected from Brothels and Gangs, now he selected from Schools.
These three would do. They all looked the type... And rather youthful... Yes, he would have his fun...
They'd report three missing children. But, he thought mockingly, if they ever found them, he'd eat his cape. | 2016-02-09T04:27:36 | 2016-02-09T03:48:39 | 59 | 14 |
[WP] For years Earth cried out to an empty cosmos, searching the stars for echoes of life. From the middle of nowhere, a reply finally comes: "Shut up, and Play Dead!"
I really struggled with the choice between "For Years", "For Decades", "For Centuries", and "For Millenia". I tapped out. Take whatever timeline you will.
This may or may not be an attempt to add cosmic significance to Red Green's "Quando Omni Flunkus Moritati".
Good Luck!
Edit: There are a LOT of good submissions here, thank you all so much! Speaking of excellent submissions, I'd like to plug u/Mrcreation for doing some very well written, lengthy work near the bottom of the thread. Scroll down and check out his multipost entry!
Edit 2: I just finished the first two books of the Three Body Problem, by Liu Cixin. Mind=Blown. A part of the series definitely shares similar themes to this prompt, but there is so much more! I highly reccomend it. | Shut up, and Play Dead?
No way in hell!
Much of what makes the will to thrive is derived from pure ego. This is mine, and not yours. This is our Earth. This is our land. We made this.
Why are we so proud when we barely hold 30% of an uncontrollable mass of elements spiraling through the great abyss? When we, is barely a we at all?
Because of the will. The ego. Against indomitable odds this defiance to fight, and remain fighting and to never stop till we hit the thing dead.
What did we do when we saw the 700 something large cylinders laden with guns and cannon blasting through space at our fragile existence? Why we freaking blew that shit up of course!
Why the hell not? We wanted to.
Famine? Poverty? Disease? Fuck no.
We were united in the sole and singular cause of fucking shit up. Together.
Black, white, yellow, we even got the fucking blue man group to do a dance as we let the retarded kids smash the fucking launch buttons!
Why?
Because fuck you that's why.
We're humanity, and we'll be damned if w-
...
What do you mean there's a giant space lizard coming for us.
...
Oh...
Well fuck. | Not sure if any of it makes sense grammatically or otherwise.
The message arrived in binary. Few even tried to understand how 'they' had managed this but they had and now they had sent their cryptic code.
'shut up and play dead'
If only the greats of astronomy had been there when the message was decoded in the labs that day: could Galileo ever have possibly imagined that he had guided humanity towards this absurd moment; could Copernicus have fathomed that hundreds of years of exploration of the concept of space could amount to the instructions given a pet?
'shut up and play dead'
Transmission of a message into space is not a simple matter. To ensure a cohesive, coherent message arrives at the intended destination, the message must be repeated countless times and amplified so as to project over vast distances which can cause a degree of 'echo' that must be corrected for at the receiver's end. These technicalities meant that our first words received presumably from another sentient species weren't
'shut up and play dead'
they were
'shut up shut up ut up up up shut shut shut up up shut shut ut up and play play and play and play and play and play play dead dead dead dea dead dea de dea dead'
This transmission was received over the space of roughly a week as cosmic echo had dispersed the emission frequency so it was with understandable relief that researchers received the second half of the message beginning with 'and.'
Still the message seemed to confirm what many humans suspected for a very long time - that what humanity stood for was loud, abrasive, piercing yells into what was presumed empty space until those occupying that space could no longer pretend we didn't exist.
Edit; Grammar
| 2016-03-27T09:12:57 | 2016-03-27T08:43:42 | 92 | 14 |
[WP] Nine voices fill your head, one voice of each alignment, from good to evil, lawful to chaotic. One day, all but one stops talking. | Shing had lost more than one friend yesterday.
He had lost eight of his nine voices.
"What does it matter," said True Neutral. "Nothing matters. Lenn is dead."
Shing wanted to cry, but no emotion would come. Lenn had been his friend, his brother-in-arms, his companion on all his heroic adventures. His lover.
"Just forget the world," said True Neutral. "Heroism is pointless without him."
Shing dropped his sword. It was his curse, that when he defeated the witch Aldra, she had put a final spell on him, filling his head with the Nine Voices of Morality, swearing he would eventually succumb to only one.
Shing had never thought it would be True Neutral.
But last night, while he and Lenn were fighting the Abyss that threatened the village of Rimmerton, he had blacked out. When he woke up, the Abyss had receded, but Lenn was there...lifeless.
*So much blood...what happened?*
"It doesn't matter now," True Neutral said in its bland voice. "He's gone. It's best if we leave this place."
Shing nodded, watching the mountains. A man could lose himself in those mountains, but Shen wanted nothing more than to get lost now.
"Forget this life, forget the pain," True Neutral said. "But take the sword, I guess. We still need to survive."
Shing nodded again, picking up the blade, dragging it behind him like a stick in the sand. They walked, silent in each others company. True Neutral had never had the need to talk much, unlike the other voices, and Shing had a feeling that he himself wouldn't talk much either, anymore.
Halfway up the mountain, Shing made a small fire and watched Rimmerton below in the setting darkness. The Abyss would return tonight, he knew. But no one would protect the villagers from it now.
"It doesn't matter," True Neutral hissed. "Maybe watching it happen will even take your mind of things."
Shing watched his blade gleam in the flickering light, the rust-red on the glittering steel. Odd. Creatures from the Abyss never bled, at least not the crimson blood of humans.
Below, the first screams started, as a darkness deeper than the night poured past Rimmerton's defences. Shing shifted uncomfortably.
"You can't be a hero anymore. Not without Lenn," True Neutral assured him. Its voice had gotten uncharacteristically coloured. "Besides, they deserve this for the sacrifice they made you take."
Shing nodded again, his eyes hard as he watched the Void devour Rimmerton. He even began to take comfort in the diversion, anything to dull out the pain.
In his mind, True Neutral laughed softly, until some part of Shing realised that the voice had never been True Neutral.
"But it is too late now, isn't it?" It said with a smiling tone. "You've sold out the villagers' lives. You can't go back to being a hero, that would mean facing what you've done."
Shing watched the crimson gleam on his blade, trying to figure out where it had come from. He had blacked out...
Shing turned his eyes to the spectacle below watching the chaos, taking comfort in it. Yes, he had never seen the allure of chaos as a diversion before, but he saw it now.
Together, Shing and Chaotic Evil laughed. | When Doctor Andrews stepped in, he thought there was a mistake. *This room was empty.*
White padding covered the room from floor to ceiling, and a pile of dirty clothes were bunched in the corner. Besides that, it was him only him, and the tech.
"I'll be back to check up on you in thirty minutes," the tech said, "Buzz me if you need me."
Behind him, the lock *clicked*, and Doctor Andrews was alone.
The pile shifted, and a black mass of matted hair seemed to crawl out of the straight jacket like spiders fleeing from a light.
"Anita?"
Her face was stained with tears. Her eyes were red.
"Anita, I'm Doctor Andrews."
"Oh, *god*," her voice was a whimper, "Oh, god."
"Anita, can you hear me?"
"*Yes,*" she hissed. It was a desperate sound, and when her eyes fixed on him, he found that, despite the streaks of filth and the straight-jacket binding her arms, she was rather young. Pretty, even.
"Are you here to help me, Doctor?"
"Yes, I am. They said you were hearing voices-"
"Doctor-" the words stuck in her throat. She bowed her head, and her body shuddered. He could hear the gentle *pat, pat* of tears against the padded floor, "Doctor, you have to help me."
"That's what I'm here for, Anita. They said you were hearing voices-"
"No, no, *no*," she shook her head. Her shoulders slid up to cover her ears, as if the sound of Andrews' voice was unbearable, "Not them... not the voices..."
"Anita, we *need* to talk about them. Listen, I can help you get better. I just need to talk to you. They said there were *nine* voices. Is that correct?"
There was an ocean of space between them, but when he reached his hand out, her head snapped up, and a grimace twisted her lips.
He pulled his hand back, "No, no, it's alright, Anita. I'm here to help."
"That's what *they* said," the tears carved brown paths down her face. *How did she get so dirty?*
"That's what *they* said, before they tied me up. Doctor, you have to help me-he-he" a sob caught in her words, "I just wanted to get better. I just wanted to help myself, Doctor. I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I promise-"
"I know," he said, cooing like a mother to a child, "I know you didn't."
He could see it in her eyes, the guilt, the pain. He knew she was honest.
This time, when he reached his hand out to her, she did not flinch. Her arms writhed under the stained arms of the jacket, but she allowed him to come closer.
"Doctor, the voices," her voice was quiet now.
He crept closer, cupping his ear with one hand, "Yes?"
Something in him wanted to reach out and touch her, to pat her shoulder, to stroke her hair, and tell her that it was going to be alright.
"They're gone now. All except one."
"How do you know?" he said.
Black, tangled legs of hair fell over her shoulder as she tilted her head up.
"Because I killed them."
"You- you *what?*"
A fluid movement caught his eye, and the jacket slipped from her shoulders. The rusted edge of a scalpel flicked out, and kissed his neck. It felt like a bucket of warm water had been poured on his chest.
"I killed them all, and I *loved* it."
The last thing he saw was the wicked grin on her face. | 2016-05-03T22:47:35 | 2016-05-03T21:23:03 | 78 | 32 |
[WP] You die and it turns out Hell is real. Thing is, you're the first one in... | "No! Oh God, NOOO!!!!" I screamed.
It was our daily session. The Devil had been told that torturing me the same way every day would allow me to become accustomed to the effects, and he couldn't allow that. So he had tried number of different methods on me to see what worked best. He had settled on nine different methods-- he told me that he had gotten the idea from Dante, but I had my doubts.
Truth is, I wasn't even sure how I had wound up here. I grew up in a Christian family, and I'd always tried to do the right thing. I was never a perfect man; far from it. I had my share of rocks thrown as a kid, and some drinking and carousing in college. But I found the love of my life, and we both settled down and had two beautiful children together. Everything seemed okay until the accident.
Originally, I was kind of pissed off that a drunk driver made it into heaven, while I was stuck dealing with Satan. But I outgrew it after a few years.
When I arrived, even the Devil was a little surprised. He'd been around since the beginning of humankind-- about 250000 years ago. But here I was, the only guy to show up so far. Maybe it was a fluke in the celestial paperwork; maybe I did something horrific that I forgot. I'll never know.
The thing to realize about the Devil is that he's really just a fallen angel. Angels were never given free will, which is kind of an important fact. Without free will, they never quite learned how to *think* well for themselves. Ol' Lucifer knew that he was supposed to torture people-- God's will and all-- but he'd never really stopped to wonder *how* he should do it. He was like a six-year-old pretending at being Lex Luthor.
He hadn't even known what to do with the stuff God gave him. Brimstone? I taught him how firecrackers are the worst things a man can see. Fire that burns but never consumes? S'mores are pure evil! Pitchforks? How else am I supposed to toast the marshmallows I so desperately hate?
He had needed instruction. And I was there to provide it.
"HELP ME! SOMEBODY LET ME GO!" I yelled, pausing the movie for the moment. Only the latest blockbusters could *really* evoke my pain and sadness on a level he found satisfactory.
"Do you want another... *package of Milk Duds*?!" he laughed from the couch next to me. He face was fixed with a menacing, sadistic grin-- though his eyes kept darting to the screen.
I took the box while letting out an incoherent yowl of agony. He seemed satisfied.
The day before had been naked jacuzzi day with the succubi. The day before that, roller coasters.
(Edit: Jesus, how many times was I going to use the word "torture"?) | The tunneling effect on my vision was taking place and I knew what was about to happen. I was okay with it, living the last hour of my life in excruciating pain was not the way I wanted to go, but I was content it was finally over. I took my last deep breath and just let the momentum sweep me away. I was at peace.
After I awoke everything was blindingly white, like I had just walked into sunlight after days in the prison's isolation room. God, I hated that room. I shielded my eyes and gradually adapted them to the surroundings. The space was vast. There were different formations of rocks all over the place. Some were a few feet tall and nondescript, while others took elaborate shapes and designs. There was a red tint to the place, like I was staring at the characteristic red clay of the Grand Canyon. I quickly realized where I was...
I was not at all surprised to be here, I was more surprised that it actually existed. The heat was not unbearable, really. I had come from the slums of India and I'd like to think that played a factor in me being able to tolerate it. It was just slightly uncomfortable. Accepting my fate of eternal damnation, I kind of chuckled at the situation. I decided to meander around my new "home". I wish there was a lot I can describe about Hell, I mean for thousands of years Man has wondered what it was like. The truth is there's not much to say about it. There's not even lava, which is kind of disappointing.
After what seemed hours of walking around, I was a bit fatigued and hungry. I took a little sit down on a small boulder about the size of an inflated beach ball. I was in search of my new landlord, the great Devil himself, but was unable to find him. This is not what I expected at all. I wanted more of a show and was kind of upset with the whole thing. Whatever. I carried onwards. Surely he's around here somewhere
6 days had gone by, I think, and I hadn't seen a single soul nor had I hadn't eaten a morsel of food. I had tried eating small bits of rock, but that only resulted in damaged teeth. I can feel that Death's grip was slowly squeezing on my body. Each hour I felt more alone and physically weak. I had grown tired of this place already. I had given up on walking and decided to just stay put. I would toggle between states of sleep, hunger, and bordeom.
The next day I had given up the will to do anything. I just layed there staring up all day. Finally my eyes began to tunnel again. In a sense I was relieved because the euphoria of death provided me with a temporary bliss. I can feel the hormones and endorphins kicking in to give me peace and comfort. The body is truly an amazing thing. I didn't resist, I just let my body get swept away by the sensation. Just like before, I was content it was finally over. I took my last breath and let the momentum take me away.
After I awoke, everything was blindingly white. Once again I shielded my eyes, but this time I was looking forward to open them up and seeing my new landlord. Of course he wasn't there. I was just supplanted in a new part of Hell. The hunger had gone away, and my energy was restored as if I had just entered. I started walking around again... | 2016-07-02T11:55:11 | 2016-07-02T11:29:23 | 38 | 14 |
[WP] You are one of the most powerful and dastardly supervillains on the planet. However, you are also one of the most requested supervillains for the Make-A-Wish foundation, and cancel a battle with your arch-nemesis to make a sick little kid's day. | Sarah watched as her arch-nemesis Dr. Blight uses his deathly devices to entertain a young child in the room with him. The same wicked smile was on his face. The same grandstanding announcement of taking over the world. And yet...
"So you can make anything wither and die just touching them for a few seconds?" asked the sickly boy. Dr. Blight answered him with a nod. "Cool!"
An unmistakable happy smile spread across the boy's face. Sarah couldn't believe it. Here was one of the most powerful and dastardly super-villain on the planet making a young child's final moments more memorable.
She couldn't understand it.
That was until she asked one of the staff in the hospital. Everything went crystal clear after that.
"So you want to become my underling once I rule the world?" said Dr. Blight.
"Yeah!" the child nodded.
"Your life will belong to me then!" declared Dr. Blight. "It will be hard work for you everyday, but I always reward those who put themselves beneath me. You will live a most content life, I assure you. Therefore there can be no excuses!"
The boy giggled as he promised his life away to the super-villain. The evil doctor even had a fake contract to make things all the more authentic. He gave a copy of it to the boy as remembrance of their deed today.
When the boy started to cough a little bit, Sarah saw that another doctor in the room make a gesture towards Dr. Blight. It seems that his stay was over now.
As the doctor checked on the boy's vitals, Dr. Blight said his goodbyes to the boy and slipped away. She found him leaning on the sideways of an empty hospital corridor.
"L-Lady Luck!" the evil doctor tried to pose in defense, just before rubbing the tears from his eyes. "I thought I made it clear that I intended to postpone our inevitable battle today."
"I came to make sure you weren't up to no good," she said quietly. "I guess you weren't..."
Dr. Blight turned away from her. "What are you saying? I'm always up to no good."
"Doesn't seem like it. That boy looked awfully happy to see you."
"What you saw was just a lie," said Dr. Blight. "It's what I do. I lie to kids all the time."
Sarah reached out to him, grasping his shaking shoulders. "That's not true. I've never seen you as honest of a man as ever before this. Your little sister would have been proud of you."
Slowly facing her, Dr. Blight took out a stack of papers from his cloak.
"I promised them the world..." he said, his voice weak. "Of all the contracts I've signed with them, not a single one was fulfilled. Even my little sister's is just now a piece of paper." His tears fell onto all the contracts he's made with children. "What I do is not good. I told you I lie all the time."
Sarah couldn't help but comfort him. She couldn't think him a liar as he sobbed in her arms. He was just a man that still grieved for the loss of his sister and the children he's made promises with. | "I'm sorry, Ash -- I honestly can't kill the mayor today. Something came up."
Señor Diabolico struggled to pull a brightly colored luchadore mask over his head while still keeping the cellphone to his ear. He failed, and the phone clattered to the floor.
"Try to kill the mayor, you mean," replied the voice crackling on the other end of the line. Señor Diabolico scooped up the phone, threaded his almost comically buff arms through an elegant evening sports-coat, and then put the receiver back to his ear.
"I-I swear, I'll make it up to you, corazón!" he fumbled, scrambling to strap on his nuclear-powered elbow and knee pads. "It's a charity thing! Besides, I heard the Katana Sister who didn't get crushed by a truck is doing a diamond heist later today. Maybe you could battle her instead?"
"Ugh -- You KNOW we're not talking right now," spat Ash Princess, a small wisp of ethereal soot puffing through the phone's mouthpiece. "And I don't want to battle her. I want to battle you..."
"I know, I know," Señor Diabolico replied, motioning to the two turtle-neck-clad luchadores near the door to go prep the chopper. The tall, lanky one on the left nodded and pulled a lever, causing the roof to split open. The squat, stocky luchadore pushed a conspicuous red button, and the floor gave way to a steel lift, elevating all three of them to the helipad above.
"What's White Knight doing?" asked Señor Diabolico, strapping himself into the helicopter's rearmost seat. "Maybe you could team up with him?"
"I get that you're trying, and I love you for it, but no, babe," answered Ash Princess. "If I have to endure his whiny 'well struck, m'lady!' every single time I punch a henchman, I swear I'll switch sides."
"Well, that'd certainly simplify things," smirked Señor Diabolico, looking out at the window as his massive highrise faded into the horizon. "You'd make a better vill than a roe, any day of any year."
"You know I can't do that, Hector," responded Ash Princess, her faded gray smile practically visible over the phone. "That's not how it works."
After a moment of warm, full silence, she spoke again.
"So what's this super important prior engagement? You said it was some kind of charity deal?"
"Make-A-Wish," nodded Señor Diabolico, knowing Ash Princess had likely astrally projected herself into the empty seat across from him. "Kid wanted to meet his favorite supervillain."
"That's weird," laughed Ash Princess. "You think he'd pick a roe, y'know? So, what... Captain Righteous was too busy shaking hands and kissing babies at his campaign rallies?"
"And Sally Stupendous has a killer math test tomorrow, I hear," replied Señor Diabolico with a hearty guffaw, subconsciously reaching across the aisle to grab a hand that wasn't there. "But honestly... most kids do want to be like Captain Righteous when they grow up. Midnight Void, too, once they hit those angsty teen years."
"So why'd he pick you then?" asked Ash Princess, her incorporeal silloutte materializing into the vacant seat and clasping her hand in his.
"Well," he began, turning to gaze out the window once more, drinking in every light from every office window, streetlamp and checkered neon sign. "If they don't even get to grow up, I'd assume they want to be like me..." | 2016-09-13T09:43:57 | 2016-09-13T09:07:13 | 276 | 113 |
[WP] You meet a genie that grants one wish. You wish to go back in time and change your biggest mistake. You get taken back to the time right before you made your wish. | My Biggest Mistake
I once did have a lamp,
which my Grand Pappy gave to me.
He said it granted wishes,
And that I should'na ask for kisses.
I took it from the shelf,
and rubbed it to a shine.
Thinking it was a tall tale.
That my Grand Pappy did design.
No sooner than I set it down,
Smoke rose from the end.
Slowly forming into a cloud,
It turned right into a D'jinn.
"Ho! What is that?," said I.
As my Grand Pappy grinned.
"See I told you was no lie,
"Don't look quite so surprised."
The great D'jinn bowed before me,
As I in shock just stared.
He stood a good head taller,
And had the size of a small bear.
"If you could have one wish,
to fulfill your strongest need,
What would that wish be?"
The D'jinn asked of me.
Should I wish for world peace?
Or should I ask for True Love?
Or be selfish and wish for money,
Or all of the above?
No I had but one wish,
One route I could but take.
To use my wish wisely,
And fix my biggest mistake.
I asked of him, my simple request.
He nodded his head and said,
"I shall do as you ask, Master.
Your wish is my command."
There was a loud whoosh,
As if the air had all suddenly left.
It did not take me long to deduce.
I had been returned.
Time had been rewound,
To the moment before my wish.
I had but a second,
To take it all in.
The lamp in hand,
My Grand Pappy's grin.
The D'Jinn stood before me.
And he asked me again.
"If you could have one wish,
to fulfill your strongest need,
What would that wish be?"
The D'jinn said to me.
I knew right then,
My biggest mistake had been,
Requesting a wish,
Of this powerful D'jinn.
I smiled at him and said,
I wish you to be free,
And have to give no more wishes.
To the likes of me. | "Well, here you go."
Dji shrugged her shoulders, then snapped her fingers. A white vignette crept into my vision and slowly overtook everything into a blinding light. With a loud *thoom*, I found myself. Literally. I was standing in front of myself and Dji.
"Dji, what the hell?! "
My past self and Dji stared at me.
" Uh... " she pointed behind me.
There was *my* Dji.
"You asked for me to take you to the moment before you made your biggest mistake. That was your wish. You could have wished for anything in the entire universe. I could end the entire concept of suffering. I could make it so no person goes hungry or homeless ever again. I could get you and your family a literal mountain of gold and jewels, and I could do it every day for the rest of eternity. I could make you immortal. Invincible. I could save one person in history or all of history.
AND YOU ASK ME TO, ahem," she transformed into another version of me. "take me back to the moment before I made my biggest mistake." It was my voice, but a much more mocking tone.
"WHAT KIND OF VAGUE OPINIONATED BULLCRAP IS THAT?! How am I supposed to know what you consider your biggest mistake?! I'm not going to sort through your freaking head. You tell me what you want, I do it. Boom. That's the deal. You might as well have said "I wish you would tell me what I should wish for." Your biggest mistake was made less than a minute ago when those words left your lips. So here it is. You missed a chance to do whatever you want or get what you need in your life for the rest of eternity. "
She poofed back into her normal self. "You're lucky I'm a nice Djin. I could have sent you here to look at your stupidity without an explanation and a wasted wish. But no. I'm feeling nice and condescending today so you get another shot. No timey wimey b.s. Excuse me."
She went over to herself and said something in a language I couldn't make out.
Past-Dji gave a familiar shrug. "Guess that works since I technically haven't given this exact kid a wish yet." She walked over to me and pat me on the head. "well, feel like making a wish this time, Sport?"
"Sure"
---- | 2016-09-25T08:48:42 | 2016-09-25T07:47:33 | 57 | 26 |
[WP] You meet a genie that grants one wish. You wish to go back in time and change your biggest mistake. You get taken back to the time right before you made your wish. | I knew what he meant after the third time I was sent back, knew that my biggest mistake would be this wish.
But I pretended not to.
I asked over and over. The same minute-long exchange etched into my mind until I could recite it without a pause, without a second thought. For hundreds, maybe thousands of times this went on and each time the genie would grant my wish and I would be standing beneath his questioning gaze, demanding him to let me fix my greatest mistake
And there I was again.
Maybe I am wrong, maybe I just need to be told I am. Maybe that's why I keep asking for the same thing over and over.
But I'll keep asking.
Because I need my daughter back. | As I looked at her, and her trusting, expectant eyes, still so full of life, I suddenly realized that the unknown of what I would become frightened me more than death.
I could now change what I'd done in a moment. But I'd never really been able to change me. I was still as self-centered as always. I would still choose me first, eventually.
If I didn't say those words, I would have to change. I knew, suddenly, that she was destined for death or pain, no matter what I did.
As I closed my eyes, I saw her face in the casket. I felt her being ripped from me as she was lowered into the ground.
I opened my eyes and smiled. I kissed her. She held me tightly.
I turned around.
And I walked in front of the bus that I'd seen in my nightmares a thousand times.
The bus that she had run in front of, crying, after I'd told her I was leaving.
The bus that had once taken her life...would give her the only chance for happiness.
Without me. | 2016-09-25T08:07:11 | 2016-09-25T07:47:06 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] It worked! You travelled back in time to Renaissance Age. Jokingly, you turn on your Wi-Fi, only to find a password protected network named "iɔniV ɒᗡ" | You know these crazy techie geeks, right? Those with the fastest computer in the neighborhood but you could never play games with them because it runs linux? Those with an android phone with sexy1337H4x0r custom ROM and a smartwatch paired with it? They claim it even can pick up girls for them, but yet you never see any girls around them. That's my best buddy. He lives next door, I hope that explains why I ever talk to him.
He just bursted through my door and told me what heppened an hour ago. He was browsing the part of internet that normal people don't even know about. You enter it with some browser that uses onions. Or something like that, I didn't care. Then he found this website.
"Meet the famous" it said.
And there was a bunch of names. He was sure it is a scam, but his computer is of course malware-resistant so he clicked a random link to see what will happen, only to find himself on a street crowded with strangely dressed people. They all had too large colorful clothes and were dirty even by my friend's standard.
"This must be some kind of convention", he thought.
"A secret one", he added. "Because I know about all the public ones". He was clearly proud of himself for that reason.
For the record, a convention is an event where the geeks go to meet other geeks and show off with your latest purchases. He decided he can try googling what is it. Asking a pedestrian would be too hard. I have always wondered if these people talk when they meet each other.
Back to the story, he took out his phone and looked for wifi. There are always tons of free wifi hotspots on conventions. Strangely, there was only one, called "icniV aD".
My heart started racing. I love Leonardo's work and was very excited I could know someone who actually met him. I had so many questions.
"And what next? Tell me what happened next!" I yelled.
"I got back home. I wasn't going to talk with an idiot who protects their wifi with WEP." | Travelling back in time was easier than it looked.
I simply shoved a fork inside my kitchen plug socket and one bang later I was here. I swung my backpack off, snatched the iPad out the back, and swiped open google maps.
*No connection found.*
The lack of signal bleeped red on the top of the screen. From the look of the room -stone with barren floors and an old stool covered in cobwebs in the corner - I was so far back that hot spots and hygiene didn't exist.
A notification came up on the top right corner: *icniV aD* Wi-Fi connection available.
So Da Vinci was still alive.
I tapped in, however, the network was password protected. *Damn you, Da Vinci!* I figured Monalisa might work so I typed that out and tried the connection. The screen shook with error. Guess he hadn't painted that one yet.
There was shouting to my right. I snapped my eyes in the direction of the noise. A balcony overlooked the nearby courtyard and so with my bag in hand, I took a seat near the railing and watched the townspeople below.
There were merchants in wagons, actors on the sides of the streets, a herald shouting news for the people to hear. Boys played chasing games and woman were dressed in their finest dresses -- most of which were shades of blue and brown.
I don't know how long I stood and watched them carry out their day in front of me and if I had to guess, I'd say it was ten minutes at most.
I pulled the iPad back out, tried to open candy crush, failed, sighed, had a little cry by myself on the balcony. I could be level 356 by now, in fact, some of my facebook friends would have sent me lives so I could have spent my Saturday playing instead of traveling to the past.
When it came down to it, what was there to see that we didn't already have?
I figured there was only one way out of this situation. I held the iPad far in front of me and my leg pressed against the balcony so my knee was like a snapping point.
I brought the iPad down as hard as possible.
It snapped in half. The electricity zapped through my arms in a surge of power. And I hit the deck behind me.
When I woke next, I was back in my kitchen, with my fork, backpack, and most importantly my Wi-Fi signal beeping green in the corner of the room.
Compared to the olden days, this was pretty much heaven.
| 2016-11-15T06:12:41 | 2016-11-15T01:50:57 | 239 | 177 |
[WP]: As a completely average person in 2017, getting 500 years into the future you find fourself beign regarded as a strange relic, a noble savage from a less civilised age | "You're joking. Right?"
And so it had become that every pair of eyes in the room had turned, intentionally or not, to its now central figure. Because, of course, the previous admission had been so ridiculous, so utterly implausible that the teller must have been eliciting some archaic form of humor or cheap shock-tactic to gain favor. Sure, the "new kid" as he was affectionately referred to was "quirky" (an old term that thankfully went out of style once everyone realized the sheer amount of saturation it had experienced) but this was going beyond the pale.
"Like, ever?"
"Guys, come on. It's not that hard to believe."
But it *was* hard to believe. It didn't matter if it had been five-hundred years or five days-- there were certain societal courting protocols males were expected to follow. The ultimate tactic in communication and efficacy, the self-declaration of one's place in the genetic hierarchy. Dissenters were usually those who had nothing to show, nothing to be proud of, a genetic legacy unworthy of an ocean of potential partners. There were the old sayings, the trite phrases and slogans for those less fortunate than others. Small assurances that you were just as valuable and important as the guy next to you. But. History isn't made by the *weak.*
"Go on. Right now. Do it."
"No."
"Dude! You fucking have to!"
"I am not her sending a goddamn picture of my dick!" | The room was surprisingly intact for a find of this era. The archaeologist could hardly believe his luck when he found that door, hidden 20 meters beneath the finely laid cobble streets and marble facades of New Boston.
He turned his eyes first to a strange glass rectangle placed on top of a crudely made, unadorned hydrocarbon table. This must be a "computer". Legends told that the people of the era nihilisticus spent most of their time fooling around with these pieces of glass. They even carried some of them around with them. The archeologist inched his way around random pieces of rubble, moving towards the bedstand.
It was also crudely made, typical of the time period. He remembered the lecture his professor had given. The major civilization of the time had suddenly given up on aesthetics around the turn of the 20th century, around the time of the great insanity.
On the bed, besides the bones of it's last inhabitant was the ubiquitous glass rectangle and a massive pile of woven cloth. After sifting through the pile for a few minutes he found what he had been looking for. A drinking chalice, embroidered with the avatar of the diety known as "starbucks". He could barely believe his eyes!
Starbucks! Bringer of prosperity and affluence! The golden caste of the north american region held starbucks as a key member of the pantheon, besides the creator gods "Apple" and "google". And what joy! He hadn't just found the avatar of starbucks, he had found her in her highest form. He could tell by the orange crystallization that this was her "pumpkin spice" form, through which the golden caste attempted to summon forth fertility during the dark days of the great illness. What an absolutely perfect day. Such a shame, he thought, that those days had to come to an end the way they did. That the golden ones couldn't find a cure for the illness. But it is said we all must fade into darkness one day. At least we have this glimpse of their twilight | 2017-10-05T07:15:16 | 2017-10-05T06:24:21 | 186 | 81 |
[WP] Scientists have discovered cryogenic freezing. You are it's first test subject and it's a massive success, and they plan on releasing you in 500 years. You had no way of telling them you were conscious.
Holy shit this blew up!
I now understand "RIP my inbox"
EDIT: u/Alpacasaurus_Rekt told me it's actually "Cryonic Freezing"
EDIT 2: To anyone who is trying to say, "scientists would not put them in for 500 years immediately" I would like you to know this is a fictitious writing prompt and just roll with it. | The nervousness is what really gets you at first. Standing in your skivvies being poked and proded one final time by all sorts of PhDs. They’re excited for you, but it’s the excitement of watching a mouse run through a maze. The excittement of a groundbreaking discovery, whether you survive or not. The most relief i’ve ever had was finally stepping into the pod.
No more anxiety, no more chance to turn back. Either it goes terribly wrong or it doesn’t. It took me about an hour to realize they had started the procedure already, and that my outcome was the former. I started to think about all the things i’d miss from life, i’d certainly have plenty of time to think about it.
The spooks circled my tomb with clipboards, writing down little factoids that’d surely be in the papers tomorrow morning. The constant surveillance was a wonderful distraction from my fate. Watching all the curious faces light up at having confirmed a hypothesis or thought of a new application.
When the pod finally opened, I vomitted, and the scribbling struck a pace more furious than I thought possible. The CEO walked right up to my hunched form to shake my hand. The test was a success, my pulse was quiet for an entire twenty-four hours and I was resuscitated without complication. Had I not raised an alarm, next week they would’ve had me in hibernation for several days, and a short while after that maybe a year. The Company’s eventual plan was to send someone forward over five-hundred years! Luckily, no one is stupid enough to test an experimental procedure’s full breadth on a single subject in one uninterrupted stage. | "So, are you surprised?" Cogs left to rot for centuries began to spin again slowly. They snapped their fingers in front of me. "You conscious? I know you're breathing." I blinked a few times. They waited patiently for me to speak. My mouth opened. "I-.... I-" They became visibly concerned. "Uh oh. Did your brain not completely thaw?"
"N- n-" The words couldn't escape me. I pulled my newly awakened arm away from my body and looked at it. "Five...hundred...years." I looked at them. "I....was-" My arm went limp as I released control of it. Spots began to fill my eyes. I began to fall.
"Hey, you awake?" I opened my eyes to them- no, her standing over me. My brain was working at full speed. Somehow I had avoided insanity, though I had been alone for 500 years. "I am awake." I appeared to be in some sort of hospital, with the expected technological improvements 500 years would bring. I looked at her eyes. "If we count age by years conscious I am five-hundred and twenty-two."
"Do you mean to say your brain was never frozen?" She asked me.
"I have been trapped in my own mind for five centuries. My sanity remains somehow, but I have nothing other to say." Something clicked. I jumped out of the hospital bed. "Where's the room with the cryo-pods?"
"I-its just down the hallway." I raced off to the cryo-pods. "Hey! You can't just run off!" I was trailed by who I assumed was a doctor. I found the pods, and I went through row after row till I found the pod with my wife inside it.
"Is there something special about her?" The doctor asked. I looked at the doctor. "Yes. Unfreeze her." The doctor obliged, though the date of thawing was a few days away. My wife tumbled out of the pod into my open arms. She began to cry. "I know. I know." I whispered. Five hundred years is a long... long... time. | 2017-12-17T03:26:40 | 2017-12-17T01:35:26 | 1,145 | 642 |
[WP] As you try to fall asleep, the monster that was hiding under your bed slowly crawls out and says "Dude, I think I heard something coming from downstairs...", with a slighty concerned voice. | One sheep...two sheep...three sheep...
I've always sucked at falling asleep.
Four sheep…five sheep…six sheep…
Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been particularly distracted around bedtime.
Seven sheep…eight sheep…nine sheep…
I think people call it an active imagination.
Ten sheep…eleven sheep…twelve she–
*Thump*
I froze. The thump came from outside of my bedroom, but it was probably just my brother coming home after a late study session. Nothing to worry about.
Twelve sheep…thirteen sheep…fourteen she–
*THUMP*
It was probably nothing, but I pulled the blanket closer to my face anyways. It didn’t muffle the scratching that emerged from under my bed after the thump – that scratching was the reason for my ‘wild imagination.’ I pulled the blanket a little higher and closed my eyes.
“Hey.”
I would be lying if I said I didn’t squeal like a little girl when something spoke right in my ear.
“Holy Jesus motherfu–”
“Yo! Dude, I think I heard something coming from downstairs and you want to yell?!” Do monsters whisper?
I tried to disappear into the covers while it talked to me but it clearly wasn’t working when the creature pried the blanket out of my hands. “You have got to get your shit together, dude. I don’t think it’s the Easter Bunny is downstairs. What are you doing?”
I slowly opened my eyes and looked up at the creature that was hellbent on having a conversation with me. At some point in the last thirty seconds, I had managed to dangle most of my upper body over the edge of the bed away from the thing that was talking and only sheer terror kept me from trying to escape any further. “I’m…leaving?”
“You had better be leaving to check on whatever is downstairs because I am not going down there. Those thumps were really loud – but you’d know that because you never freaking sleep – and I don’t want to let it know I’m here. I’ve been crashing here illegally since you were a baby and I would be thrown into the first circle of hell if any other monsters found out.” It raised its eyebrows and wiggled its ears at me. “Oh geez, I scared you, didn’t I? Sorry, I’m not used to interacting with humans. It’s been a lot of years since the last time and…not gonna lie, you freak me out.”
I sat up slowly and narrowed my eyes at the creature. “ *I* freak *you* out?! You realize you’re not even supposed to exist in my world, right?!”
The creature sat on the end of my bed and rolled its eyes. “Says the human who refused to believe –”
A voice floated up from downstairs. “Ho Ho Ho! Someone here has made it onto the naughty list this Christmas!”
The creature and I looked at each other and paled. “Shit.”
| God, what a day. Up at 5 to shit, shower, and shave, out the door by 5:30. Some poor bastard had a heart attack on the highway and flipped his car, so I sat in traffic for an hour. I called in to work and let Janice know that I'd be late, but apparently she didn't pass that information along to Bill. He was frothing at the mouth when I hurried through the door. Didn't even give me a chance to explain before lecturing me for a good half hour about the importance of being punctual, that I'd never make it to the next level of middle management if I didn't show some initiative, that I'd let the company down, that society was falling apart because of people like me.
Honestly, I stopped listening until he started winding down and asked me to stay late to make up for this morning. Staying late today apparently meant watching the sun set while playing Minesweeper until 8 o'clock. By the time I got home, it was just shy of 10.
Call me gross if you want, but I didn't even bother to brush my teeth. I fell into bed without so much as taking off my pants and had begun spiraling into the warm embrace of sleep when I heard it.
“Hey!”
Clearly I was exhausted. I must have hit play on a video or somethi-
“Chuck! Hey!”
The bed jumped up off the floor as if it had been kicked. As if there was someone hiding underneath it. As if... oh, hell.
“Don't fall asleep, man.” The voice was gravelly, dry. “Listen, I know you forgot my smokes. No worries, this time, but I think you should get up right now.”
Of course. In my rush to get home I forgot to stop and get a pack of cigarettes for him. This wasn't the first time, and I had the scars to prove it. He was picky about his brand, and had made that very clear a few months ago. I had only just stopped having nightmares. I dragged myself up off my pillow and rubbed my eyes.
“I'm so sorry Joe, I'll run out and grab some right now. Turkish Gold, yeah?”
The bed jumped again, this time with a violence that left me sprawled on top of the sheets. I groaned through clenched teeth. No way this would end well for me.
“No man, call the cops or something. I am freaked right out.” The creature I called Joe sounded desperate in a way I'd never heard before. He sounded downright scared. The bed frame began to tilt, and out from underneath it slithered a black, scaly, sharp-clawed arm. The clawed hand dug into the carpet, pulling and tugging as the rest of Joe's body followed behind. My throat squeezed tight in terror. I couldn't breath.
I heard a knock at my front door. First once, then again. Loud, hard knocks. They rattled the windows all the way up here in my loft. Joe, halfway out from underneath my bed, froze.
“She's here,” he croaked. “She's down there, and she's coming.” He turned his head to glance at me, red eyes wide, fanged maw trembling. “Oh please, Chuck, don't let her up here.”
I heard slow footsteps on the stairs. | 2017-12-27T22:53:54 | 2017-12-27T18:45:58 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] You are a magically immortal being who snuck onboard a generation ship to travel beyond the solar system. It's been a couple hundred years, and it's getting difficult to conceal your immortality from the crew. | "Did you hear about the genius inventor on the 44th deck?"
"Oh no, the way you phrased that.. did he die?"
"I mean, sort of. Apparently he made an exact android replica of himself in his current age of 144 and downloaded his consciousness into it. He called it "his final epiphany to immortality" in his note."
"Wait, what? His note? You mean he killed himself and downloaded into a robot?!"
Matilda nodded. She wiped her bangs out of her eyes with her forearm, past the long yellow glove and toilet brush in her hand. "In my opinion, it's kind of his first real invention. I never really understood why people called him 'the old genius', I mean he 'invented' a cure for aging, but he only ever gave it to himself."
Now Sylvia nodded emphatically. Whenever Matilda got going on about the ship's gossip, she would unknowingly clean most of- if not entirely the whole room. She was a good housekeeping partner to be paired with.
Matilda continued, "- and he 'invented' his own blood for transfusions, but he didn't invent it, he just pulled it out of his body and sold it! And it was proved that scientifically it didn't cure anything, it was just a placebo!
"OH! And I nearly forgot the craziest part! He didn't just hang himself or anything. They don't really know why he did it, but they know it was suicide because he thoroughly describes how his last instruction to his android self was to completely bash his brains in. Literally. Poor, poor Agatha, even with the giant tip he left for whoever had to clean it up..." She stopped scrubbing the toilet bowl that was now sparkling due to her enthusiastic strokes.
"Why wouldn't he just get his android to clean up his... brain mess." Sylvia was beginning to feel queasy.
"I haven't the closest thing to an idea, Sylv. Anyways this topic gets me too worked up, can we not talk about it anymore?"
Sylvia's nausea hadn't receded, but she hated cleaning more than she disliked being nauseous. "Oh you're not getting worked up! I completely agree," said Sylvia. "I don't like the thought of a murderous robot roaming around the ship either but I still hope I see him in the cafeteria sometime. I want to give him a squeeze, see if those old robot buns have any definition."
The two of them cackled for a while before Sylvia prompted Matilda for any 33rd deck gossip she might have, which turned out good for two more room servicings. | Odysseus, the voyager ship, cliché name ? Absolutely but I still find it suits the ship well.
At this point I would have named it metamorph, like the pokemian, is it... ? I can’t remember now, from Nintendro right ? I can’t remember..
I would have named the ship metamorphosis if it was for me to decide honestly, I mean, this ship started with
25 000 people, 1256 working and the rest in cryo-freeze.
I remember, the plan was to bring a maximum of people but there wasn’t enough space for them and so, the crew was tasked to convert the meteors and any matter we crossed for that matter, into additional structures, aaaa the good ol’ days, chaotic, but fun.
Every structural engineer was trying to build their own thing at the beginning, the ship looked like shit *chuckles*
God, I can’t remember the details correctly now, I do remember when they started to wake up new dwellers but the structure wasn’t capable of supporting the population yet, we had to ration like crazy because of that, but it was fun..
I guess, the ship grew and we finished by finally waking up the 24 000 people on the list, yeah, the remaining 1 000 payed extra to not wake up until we built a new colony, I guess they didn’t want to live and day on a small ship.
« Mark, come down, we need some of your magic skills down here »
Who the fuck is Mark ? well, now the ship has quite the population, 2 million and we managed to create new ships that went different ways too.
« Hey Mark, seriously, you need to come down here »
Then some guy patted me on the back
« Still daydreaming man ? We need you in *inferno*
oh shit, I forgot, my name is Mark this time around, god I need to take this identity shift more seriously.
« What do you want *looks at badge* Jimmy ? »
« Very funny, get your ass down to inferno now »
« So pushy, bad time of the month for you ? »
« I am your ranking officer, apologies now »
« ... »
« That’s an order »
« Do you want me repairing whatever the hell you incompetent fools broke and couldn’t repair ? Or would you rather send me to discipline, not fix the problem and have to explain to your superior why you incompetent fools couldn’t repair jack shit ? »
« ... »
« That’s what I thought, now what’s the problem ? »
« You motha.. »
« Tut tut tut Jimmy, no need for that, what is the problem ? »
« The SPAM machine isn’t working »
*chuckle*
« What ? »
« Nothing, Jimmy, I’ll repair it don’t worry »
Wow, I got carried away in the prologue so much that I forgot to actually dive in to the time where it gets complicated for him XD | 2018-06-13T13:40:05 | 2018-06-13T13:22:57 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] You are a test subject for a time machine, and are sent 12 hours into the future. When the door opens, you find yourself in the testing room, where you see in horror the bodies of the technicians on the floor, with the word "SORRY" scrawled in large letters on the wall. | "What the FUCK!" the scream of horror that broke from my lips echoed from the walls of the lab. The bodies of six attendants lay scattered in pieces about the room, blood pouring from haphazard wounds. As my brain struggled to accept what I was seeing, I took a shaky breath and leaned out of the machine. Raising my eyes from the bloody scene I spotted the message on the wall, scrawled in blood.
>"SORRY"
"Oh fuck, what the fuck," I whispered to myself as terror clawed through my body. "Ok, what do I do?"
I couldn't just sit in the machine and wait for help to come. Whatever had torn the lab attendants apart might still be nearby working its way through the laboratory and leaving a path of destruction in its wake. I had to get out, and I had to get help.
I took a deep breath to steady myself, and I ran.
I slowed my pace through the corridor as the soft sound of crying reached my ears. It seemed to be coming from a room ahead of me on the left side. The crying was quiet and low, more mournful than fearful, and I wondered if the person crying knew about the lab technicians. As I reached the door, I pushed it open slightly and peered inside.
A young woman, dressed in a technician's coat, sat on the floor with her back resting against a row of cabinets. Her eyes closed, she breathed slowly - in and out, in and out. She pressed her hand to her side, and even through the crack in the door I could see the blood sliding over it. She was wounded.
Without thinking, I pushed open the door and moved towards her to offer help. It was only when I crouched down next to her that I realized she wasn't the one crying. As the woman looked up at me and opened her mouth to speak, I heard a soft sniffling from across the room. "I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry..."
The creature was, in a word, otherworldly. It didn't seem to have a physical form. As my eyes tried to capture it, its shape shifted and twisted, a myriad of color and shapes, everything and nothing all at once. Initially it was small, no larger than a golden retriever, but as I stared I could have sworn that it swelled to fill half of the room, all the while maintaining its current size.
"What is that?" I whispered to the woman on the floor.
"I think it's you," she wheezed, "or a version of you."
"...What do you mean?" I asked, my eyes never leaving the shapeshifter.
"We sent you through the door. Within seconds, that came out. We were fascinated; it was disoriented. We tried to communicate with it but it was panicking, screaming, crying, saying your name over and over again. 'It's me, it's August!' And worst of all, if someone got near it... oh god. They're all dead." She gasped, in pain or in horror, and a tear slid down her cheek. "I don't think it meant to. But if someone came into contact with any of the... you see it, right? The appendages, the translucent stuff. After a millisecond it would become solid... everyone was in a panic. We thought we had killed you or somehow mutated you. I was manning the video camera, so I stayed back. After... everyone was dead, it started to cry. I think. That sound its making. It was so human. It wept and screamed, and as I watched it wrote that message on the wall. Did you see it? 'SORRY.' It didn't notice me until after it had written it... I tried to run, but it followed, apologizing, asking me questions. It accidentally cut me trying to get past me. To block my path, I think."
"It was an accident, I don't know how to stop, I don't know. Please help me. Please, it's August," the shapeshifter pleaded.
"August, what are we going to do?" the technician asked through gritted teeth.
I paused, and looked back down to her. "My name isn't August."
She stared up at me, confusion overtaking her face. "What do you mean, 'your name isn't August?'"
I shook my head. "My name isn't August. I don't know who you are. And..." I looked down at my hands. "This isn't my body." | I stared in horror at the slaughter in front of me. The corpses lay strewn over crimson rivers of blood.
My heart thumped wildly as I scanned the surroundings, terrified of the idea that whoever had done this would still be around. I didn't see anyone, yet I spotted the word: *sorry,* written on the wall.
I frowned. Why did the murdered or murderers bother to apologize? Why did they even kill the technicians in the first place?
It soon dawned upon me that I could try an reset the time machine to send me back to my time. The technicians had explained me the process in case something went wrong.
I desperately turned to the machine again, my hands shaking as I attempted to remember how to properly set it working.
The machine was a sight to behold, a large capsule connected to an intricate snarl of thick brass pipes, which disappeared into countless holes. The control board lay at the side.
I fumbled through the settings, clumsily setting the date of destination, deactivating the freezing process, and writing the authorization password. My entire body was taut with nerves.
Apart from my shallow, rapid breaths, the silence was absolute, adding a heavy layer of tension to the air. It was cold, yet the sweat trickled down my temples and armpits as if I were burning under the sun.
And then, when I thought I had it, a red dot appeared on my hand, and rose all the way up to my head. I jumped backward, and my heart skipped a long beat. With hands aloft and fear distorting my face, I went stiff and slowly knelt. I saw no one, and no one spoke, but I understood.
In that moment, with the rifle aiming at my chest, my mind clung to the hope only a man who is facing death could cling to. They could have killed me before, why do it now?
I repeated that over and over again to compose myself, to avoid the tears and calm my thundering heart. The minutes stretched to eternities. Would I be here, staring at the floor with the fear of a bullet going straight through my chest until I died of starvation? Why didn't he make it quick?
In the distance, a door bolted open followed by a mixture of screams and the pattering of feet against concrete. It was only then, when the voice spoke.
*When they come, you won't utter a word. If you do, then forget about your little Julie. We will know if you do.*
Everything inside me shattered like glass. Julie was my little daughter, my treasure.
I'd accepted to take part in this experiment because of her, although I knew it was a foolish thing to do. I needed the money, and the technicians assured me the probabilities of something going wrong with the machine were low.
The steps dinned beyond the walls. Hundreds of them. The door swung open and fifty men came rushing in, all aiming at me. The red dot disappeared from my chest. What should I do?
I heard the voices of the policemen talking and yelling at me but I couldn't understand them. It was as if they were muffled by my thoughts.
I saw anger and disgust clashing in their eyes, and in the blink of an eye, I was handcuffed to the ground, my head against the pool of alien blood.
I spoke no words. My mind was numb, distant, lost. Where was Julie? Was she okay? The police wouldn't answer.
Months later, I ended up locked in jail. I hadn't confessed the murder. I hadn't spoken nothing but the same question over and over again: Where was Julie?
I was hollow. My mind was empty except for that single question. I had gotten those technicians killed, I had gotten Julie kidnapped. If I didn't apply for the experiment, if I had worked harder instead of searching for easy money, none of these would've happened, wouldn't it?
I lost track of time. I was alive but, at the same time, I wasn't.
Months later, an inmate handed me a letter. I grabbed it absentmindedly, and opened it. It was a photo of Julie when she was younger, one I had taken, along with a message written on paper.
*Sorry,*
*There are things no man should mess with. Time travel, being one of them. We had to murder them all and burn the schemes of the machine, lest someone was able to replicate it. We took care of the machine too.*
Words and more words. Where was Julie? Why didn't they answer that?
"Hand it back," the inmate said, a knife in his hand. I obliged yet I kept Julie's photo. What was the use of a letter anyone could have scribbled?
Where was Julie? Was she all right?
I would never know, wouldn't I?
------------------------------------
Not my forte! But if you enjoyed it, subscribe to r/AHumongousFish
| 2018-08-01T07:13:02 | 2018-08-01T06:02:35 | 1,585 | 77 |
[WP] If a person is in grave danger, time will slow down around them to give them a chance to survive. The bigger the danger, the slower the time. This phenomenon may only occur once in a person's life. You are the first person ever to see time come to a complete halt. | Everything became silent - no humming electronics, no muffled chatter. The world took a distinct grey hue, as if something drained the life out of reality itself and robbed it of all color. John stood up, letting go of the papers in his hand, watching them freeze mid-air as he let go. He looked out the window, the trees frozen even on this windy day. A single bird floated in the air, its wings extended.
"What the fuck...?" he said, looking around his empty office. He knew what this meant, it was the phenomenon in which time slows down when you are in grave danger. He had heard his own son explain it as though you suddenly gain superhuman reflexes, that day when time slowed down *just* enough so that he could veer to the right, dodging the drunk driver. At most, he'd heard of someone who experienced three seconds in the span of one actual second. Those had been Marines, but the missile claimed their lives all the same.
John looked around his large, empty office. There was no immediate threat here - nothing out of the ordinary. He looked up at first, thinking perhaps the chandelier had come loose and was about to hit him in the head, but that made no sense as he had been sitting by his desk when time froze. He then walked away from the large windows, standing against the wall, out of sight - thinking perhaps there was a bullet incoming from an unseen assassin, but time still would not unfreeze.
He walked over to the door into his office, and grabbed the handle. When he did, the door regained its color, and opened as normal - and when he let go, the color drained again, rendering it grey and lifeless again.
The long hall was empty, save for one person, seemingly running towards his office. A single page out of the file he was holding had flown out of it, suspended in time. His expression was one of complete panic and urgency. John walked over and grabbed the file labeled CLASSIFIED out of the frozen man's hands, reading.
*Holy shit*.
John proceeded down the hall, and eventually found his way into the Situation Room. There were large images on the screens, and one of his intelligence officers was reaching for a phone on the table - a direct line to his own office. People seemed to have just gathered, some on their way to sit, some still rushing to their seats in the conference room. Military officers had angry expressions on their faces, pointing to the large screens.
One screen was a tracking system, reading several identified missiles apparently travelling towards the United States. Another was a satellite image of a Russian Nuclear Missile site, having just launched their missiles.
The President stood there for a moment, assessing the situation. And he must have stood there for twenty minutes.
*Fuck it*, John thought, and brought up his cellphone. "This will be one hell of a hail mary," he said, and dialed the number.
Thousands of miles away, a phone rang in the Kremlin. And to his surprise, the Russian President picked up the phone.
"... Hello?"
"Ivan," John said, skipping formalities and being blunt. "Want to tell me what the fuck is going on?"
"President O'Neil... I-.. I didn't expect to.. Is time, is it--"
"Frozen for me too? You bet. What the fuck have you done!?"
"John.. I did not authorize the launch of our missiles. I am at a loss... And what of your people?"
"What of my people?"
"Your intelligence people that you have... difficulties controlling. Perhaps they were trying to fuck with our systems, hm?"
"Don't you dare start accusing m--"
A beeping sound interrupted him. There was a third caller. John clicked his cellphone, turning it into a conference call.
"President Xao calling for Pres-"
"Hello," both the US and Russian presidents answered in unison.
"I was not sure I would reach you, time has--"
"Frozen. We know. Anything you can tell us about this situation?" John said, interrupting. Time was of the essence - or at least, he thought so. God knows when it would unfreeze.
"I was hoping you would shed light on it for me. Are we at war? We have missiles heading for Beijing originating in Russia."
"Gentlemen, I swear, on mother's grave - I did not launch any missiles."
"Either way, you have a problem, Ivan. Our defense systems flagged the launch instantly and launched the MAD program. Chinese missiles are going to launch for Moscow the second Time resumes."
"Fuck.."
"Fuck indeed," John said. "There must have been a breach - some compromised system. Iranians, perhaps. Either way, we need to find out a way to stop this, and fast."
"I can scramble jets immediately to try and intercept our miss--" the Russian said, then briefly stopped, before continuing. "Do you feel that?"
"I do," John said. He felt an ominous feeling, and soon knew why. The paneling in the Situation Room began to regain color, and the man reaching for the phone began moving extremely slowly.
"Gentlemen, we are out of time. I can only pray we can stop this in time. Good luck."
| Day 1
\----------
I'm writing this all down for posterity purposes. Not as a record, per say, but more as a proof that what I am experiencing is not a form of a drawn out hallucination manifest by my mind. As a result, I will have to confess a few things that some of my family and close friends have whispered and said to my face, even though it has mostly been in jest.
And it is basically this;
I have never been in trouble.
This is somewhat true. I have lived my life in a manner to not be put in danger, and not be in danger in any form. The world as it works, as you dear reader know, is such as to slow down time whenever someone is in danger. My parents have had this happen to them, and it's the reason why I am alive today. Otherwise, a drunk driver would have claimed three souls that day. Most of my friends have encountered the same, though how slow it became varied.
I have never had time slow for me, because I have never been in danger. That's probably the biggest positive. Except, I think I am experiencing my 'one' time. I'm just unsure about what to do because time hasn't slow for me.
It has stopped.
\----------
Day 3
\----------
Today is day three and the sun is still suspended in the afternoon sky like a lamp that won't turn off. And because of that, sleeping has been an issue. I think I have had like four or five single-hour naps in the last few days and I'm not coping well.
On the plus side, food is relatively always fresh so I have been eating well enough, I guess. I have spent the waking hours trying to figure out why Time has stopped for me. If I'm in that much of a danger, then what could it be? you know.
I walked away from the house, with the journal. I left my belongings somewhere by a police station after a few hours. Maybe it was a robber? or poison? or an allergic reaction? I don't know. I'm currently at Frank's house. He's in the living room with Martha and I guess they were watching a romcom. I knew he wasn't sick. He just wanted to spend the afternoon with his girlfriend.
I kinda wish time doesn't start while I'm here but I'd like it to start soon. Real soon.
\----------
Day 12
\----------
I don't want to write. I don't want to. This is just to ground me in some semblance of reality.
I have been seeing butterflies everywhere I go, fluttering in the wind. I can't touch them. But I see them clearly, flying across my vision. The are beautiful. All majestic blue and fairy like. They fill me with a feeling I can't explain. I know they aren't real but they are as real as the sun, still in the sky.
\----------
Day 15
\----------
I think I feel much better than I did 2 days ago. Turns out, I needed a good sleep, and no amount of covering myself with a duvet was going to help. I had, in my delirious state, stumbled into a basement and collapsed in the darkness of it.
I never knew sleep was that important, or rather, that dependent on the sun's glare. With the long sleep however, comes a bitter realisation. I'm still the only one moving around. Time is still frozen for the world around except me.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I've been playing around with the idea that I'm not the only one frozen in time. That maybe someone somewhere is feeling the same thing. This is a depressing thought too as its not like I can contact them and they can contact me.
Still, I take some silent solace in the hope that I'm not alone.
\----------
Day 45
\----------
There's nothing to write. I'm still here.
I'm at my parent's house, about 20 miles away from the city. They are frozen too. Imagine my surprise.
\----------
Day 70
\----------
If the long gaps in days are anything to go about, I guess I can admit that I'm not a good follow-up. Then again, most of the days I see the journal, I don't want to write. I don't want to have to remind myself of my predicament and record down for the eventual reader.
I mean, what the fuck am I meant to say?
That things are looking good?
I have considered killing myself, you know... A few times even. Almost even went ahead with it once before deciding against it. I have never been suicidal. If I was, and this was time's way of telling me to behave, that would be different, you know?
So I didn't do it. It would be a cheap solution to the expense of this problem.
I can't promise I will write tomorrow but I'll try.
Time will have to start eventually. I just have to wait it out.
\----------
Day 71
\----------
I didn't add it in yesterday but my daily routine has currently been to exercise in the mornings, read in the afternoons and then learn something new (hobby-like) in the evenings.
It's not really important, but I figure you should know... you know?
\----------
Day 100
\----------
Please... start again. Time please start again. Give me a breeze, give me a sunset. Give me something other than this.
Please...
\----------
/r/EvenAsIWrite for more? lol... Criticisms and feedback are always welcome, and I actively encourage them. :D
\----------
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/EvenAsIWrite/comments/aduin8/counting_the_seconds_2/) | 2019-01-08T03:16:20 | 2019-01-08T02:41:37 | 447 | 82 |
[WP] You are in no way related to Uther Pendragon, however, you realize that the sword in the stone is child proof and to drag it out you just need to push down and turn the sword | The world spun about me. It *breathed.* Grass blades swayed as if underwater, the trunks of the trees hunched over me, then retreated like the coward they were.
"Wet yeh--wet yeh looken at?" I said, stumbling upon my words, swinging my empty bottle of ale in a threating manner toward nothing in particular. "Parverts! Nature is parver--"
I staggered, flayed my arms wildly to get a hold of something, but the world was drunk and the ground kept distorting, and when I could use the trees, they were faraway. I shouldn't have insulted them.
And such is the way I fell against a boulder, and in that boulder what remained of my ale was spilled, for in my erratic landing the bottle broke, and I wept.
It was my tears dried and I teetered to my feet that I saw the sword buried in the boulder. "Fartune day, isn't it, hah!" I laughed, and reeled back to the floor. "Boiling bebbles and rabber decks!"
In time, I got hold of the hilt to prevent myself from falling. When I pulled, nothing happened. That thing was truly buried. And so I gave up, and my eyes drifted to the shattered bottle of ale. I had a song in my heart, and it begged to be sang. But no song of the heart can be poured out without swinging a bottle of ale.
I buried my head between my bent knees. I had failed the drunkards. I had failed the nation. Drawing a deep breath, an idea came to mind.
The sword was a little loose, and so I grabbed the hilt, and pretended it to be a bottle of ale. It barely moved, and so it was a complete and utter failure, but I didn't care, for the words were gushing out my heart in a discord of disastrous lilts and runs.
There was a rattle, like that of chains turning. I came to a halt, gazed at the sword. It was sideways, and the boulder had opened as if it were a just-bloomed flower. I pulled it out, grinned a wide grin witnessing the sun catch in its silver edge, and then I swung it and kept singing, teetering down the world.
Soon, I came upon Arthur. He was the true drunkard, and like always he was sitting against a tree drinking out of his fabled ale-filled apples.
"Arthar! I fend a swerd! Parfect ale replacemant!"
His wandering eyes danced from me to the sword, and soon he joined me in my song. We sang from the core of our ale-infused hearts, chanting like barbarians, screaming like trampled soldiers, crying like mourning widows. And after all that jumble, we wound up fast asleep on the ground.
The hubbub of a thousand whispering voices roused us from our slumber. We were surrounded by a huge crowd.
"King of England!" they chanted. "What's your name sword-bearer?"
Arthur had the sword in his hands, for I had traded it for some apples.
"Arther," Arthur said, and retched.
I growled like an angry lion, and stormed off the crowd. I couldn't believe it. I was fuming with anger.
Who dares wake up a drunk man without offering him a bottle of ale?
----------------------------------------------------
r/NoahElowyn
| Aida slinked between trees on her way to the sword. Her thin armor was dull in the night unlike the reflective metal of her enemies. The moon did not reflect her fabric and alert the watchers. A mistake she had watched several others make.
The new rule was that you get one chance every moon-cycle to pull out the sword, and as a newcomer, she was put at the bottom of a rather extensive list when she had failed. Waiting that long was simply not going to work for Aida. Not when she had figured out the trick only a few days after failing.
Historic texts were easy to get hands-on in the local village. As long as she sat inside the dusty library, they allowed her to read as long as she wanted to. Tracing back her lineage confirmed what the sword had already told the lands- She had no claim to it by blood. There was no heritage that allowed her to circumvent the rules of the stone. Another book held a surprising theory she wanted to test, however.
The clearing appeared in front of her. There would be no more trees to hide behind once she left the shade of a large oak. Glancing around, she spotted one guard who was roaming the perimeter. His stride appeared slow, and if she had to guess, he looked bored. Most people followed the rules. She silently agreed, it was all very boring. While he was on the other side of the clearing, not quite looking in her direction, she made a break for it.
She ran to the middle of the grassy circle, applauding her leather for being silent on top of dull. Wasting no time, she set a foot upon the rock as her hands grabbed onto the wrapped hilt of the sword. Aida pushed downward, the opposite direction intuition and tradition told them all to force the legendary Excalibur. She pushed and began to turn her arms, using her entire body for leverage.
A mad sounding cackle escaped her body when it began to work. The entire sword turned and made an echoing clicking sound as it finished its semi-circle rotation. She looked over at the guard as she reversed her momentum and yanked upward. He was running towards her as fast as his armor and stature would allow, but by the time he arrived, it was too late.
Without ceremony and out of turn, Aida had pulled the sword free of the stone.
***
“You failed. Your duty was to protect the weapon of our next ruler.”
Aida did feel a bit bad as she watched the guard shrink away from the reprimand. . She had already admitted that she had not been thinking about the repercussions for anyone else when she had snuck into the kingdoms sacred clearing to test her theory. By law and tradition, they could not force her to put it back in the stone. The land was required to let her have it, and give her a seat on the high court.
That wasn’t even what she really wanted. She wanted the adventures the old stories told of anyone who held Excalibur. She wanted the strength and the respect that would follow, but by the look of it- it came with politics as well. She glanced over at the guard and tried to give an apologetic look. The wizard was lecturing him again, a mix of magic aided yelling and disappointed murmuring.
She felt like a small child just watching someone else have to endure it. The sword lay across her lap in a specially crafted metal scabbard. It was heavy, which surprised her for some reason. The whole thing was really heavy.
One of her gloved hands rubbed the top of the ornate case, taking her attention even further away from the room. As her focus melted the sounds of the wizard into a dull noise in the background, she felt a thump on top of her head. Looking up to argue she saw the wizard had finished with the guard and was standing in front of her seat, looking extremely cross.
“And you…” Merlin spat in her direction.
***
See more at /r/beezus_writes
Feedback always welcome! | 2019-01-30T06:35:55 | 2019-01-30T06:30:48 | 428 | 75 |
[WP] "Necromancy is just golemancy except you use bodies instead of rocks" he said. "Healing is just necromancy but before the person dies" she said. Now look where I am. | Alexis was deemed the greatest Necromancer in the realm. And with good reason, as the creatures he raised from the dead were far more lifelike than those of any other known Necromancer. They were not pale as corpses, but emaciated warmth as any living being. They did not lumber, but were as agile as a warrior in their springtime. Their only flaw was that they were not able to speak. However, Alexis had one huge secret: he was not actually a Necromancer. Instead, he was gifted with a keen mind, as well as two wise masters.
His first master was a skilled Dwarven craftsman, named Thirfuk. He was able to craft statues from all materials with immaculate detail and was able to make them move like the creatures the statues depicted. When Alexis was apprenticed to Thirfuk, he asked him how he was able to animate the statues so flawlessly "Golemancy is just like necromancy, except you use rocks instead of bodies.", Thirfuk answered, "Except that rocks don't have joints, so you have to craft those as well before animating." Alexis took the message to heart, but was never quite able to craft joints as skillful as Thirfuk.
His second master was a great Elfin healer, called Sariel. She could cure the most grievous wounds and make her patients look completely unblemished afterwards, as if they have never been harmed. When Alexis was studying the healing arts, he inquired from her how she was able to restore even the most decaying wounds back to life, "Healing is just like necromancy", she replied, "but before the person dies." She added that restoring dead tissue is easy, but getting it to work as it should was the hard part. Alexis tried to pursue this lesson, but he was never able to properly heal, only giving the outwards appearance of recovery.
In the end, he combined both of their lessons. First he animated skeletons, as they were like the statues of Thirfuk but with the joints already perfectly made. Then he restored the flesh, as unblemished as if Sariel would have healed them but not fulfilling any function other then just living. Wit those creatures, little more then animated skeletal statues clothed in living flesh, he tricked the entire realm and was heralded as a genius Necromancer. Everyone except his two masters, who watched in amusement how their student took the wrong parts of their lessons, and shaped them into a working whole. | “That’s not how it works." Greg said, his brow furrowed in annoyance. I glanced at the faces of my cohorts, and I saw unimaginative rejects who had no clue how these spells might ACTUALLY work. Sandra, a brace faced wood-elf ranger with no redeeming qualities. Josh, a try-hard Dwarf Paladin who already knows everything, so there’s no point in even discussing it. And then there was Greg. He was the worst of them all. Greg was a middle aged man still living in his parent’s basement who must have outweighed the rest of us all combined. I had come here because I heard Greg was a master storyteller, a visionary but all I’ve heard from him are cheesy cliches and and unenthusiastic impersonations.
​
“You can’t heal a person with a spell meant to raise the dead and you certainly can’t animate ROCKS to do your bidding!” he said, his voice raising an octave somewhere mid-sentence.
​
“I don’t see why raise dead wouldn’t do either of those things. It just doesn’t make sense. If it can take a dead person and bring them back, why can’t it heal someone who is still alive? And if I can turn a dead body into my thrall why can’t I turn a pile of rocks into a golem? I’m either healing dead tissue or animating inanimate objects. It works the same”. “Because you just can’t” Sandra shouted, her usually reserved expression becoming more pointed. “It’s against the rules and it’s stupid. If that spell could heal and summon golems then the heal and summon golem spells wouldn’t exist. It’s dumb. It makes no sense.” I never liked Sandra. She always struck me as kind of a prude bitch.
​
Josh opened his mouth to speak, but I couldn’t bear to hear that man’s voice any longer. “Shut the fuck up Josh, nobody cares about you, or the rules or the laws or whatever. Just stop. If you say another word I swear to god I will slap you into next week.” there was a long silence. My new friends just stared at me like I was from another planet or something. After that the evening just kind of fizzled out, there was awkward small talk between them for about 5 minutes and they all left. “Take it easy Jeremy” Josh said as we parted ways for the night. “Yah, see ya next week” I hollered back, in hopes to kind of lighten his spirits before I retired for the evening.
​
The next day I awoke to a message from Greg, “You can’t play Dungeons and Dragons with us anymore.” I texted him back but he didn’t reply. So this weekend I played laser tag instead. I bet they’re all miserable and bored without me to spice up the campaign. Look at me now losers. | 2019-06-09T23:18:29 | 2019-06-09T23:00:26 | 562 | 67 |
[WP]The zombie apocalypse has come and gone. Humanity has survived and prospered, but with the virus still inside every single human. Centuries in the future, we are at war with an alien race, and they are horrified to learn that we don't stay dead easily. | Even centuries later the human race had not recovered. Seven billion people culled down to just a few million takes a long recovery.
The biggest loss was that of the scientific community. With so few people many modern commodities disappeared. And as humanity grew back, they grew back without such needs. Digital technology had never recovered. Humanity was somewhere in the middle of the Iron Age really, but those who knew history were hesitant to fall back into industrialization easily.
This is what may have prompted the alien species to attack. To them the earth looked ripe. The ruling species was a primitive ape like humanoid that hadn’t even developed space travel.
Humanities first contact with intelligent life outside of its planet would not be kind. They came down quick and hard from the sky, obliterating the most populated areas. Still fairly sparse when compared to humanities peak.
Confident in their strike the alien species went to check on the areas they had blasted. Human remains were everywhere. Bodies torn apart, burned, crushed, smoldering. A stunning success to the outer space species. That was until...until the bodies started moving. They weren’t fast, at first. They slowly gathered themselves up and inches closer to the aliens. Both excited and hurt that their first encounter should be so brutal.
The lowly torn down humans looked at the intelligent life that had hurt them. Tall beings of slender build, most features hidden behind their own versions of a space suit. You could tell they were shocked though by when a formerly dead body would shake awake and move back to be with its fellow man.
The men didn’t start this war, they didn’t ask for it. They had not yet recovered from their own losses years gone by. But they would finish it, just as their own had started. A man laying on the ground crawled over toward the space beings who watched the groveling man.
As the man got close he wrapped himself around the feet of these interstellar beings. They pointed some sort of exotic weapon at him, their version of a pistol he was sure. Without further hesitation staring up at these beings from the stars he bit into the closest ones leg. He didn’t know if the disease would spread through the alien species like it had his own, but he had hope. And with that the alien shot him in the head, unknowing that it would be a headshot needed to kill the man.
The remaining people saw the bite and turned away, knowing the doom the man had wrought for the space species. They would find out soon enough if the zombie disease spread amongst the aliens by if they came back or not. The humans doubted they would be back. And with that they went back to their lives. | Our first encounter with an intergalactic species was the perfect culmination of centuries of carefully tailored military diplomacy. We never quite were a species very concerned with the niceties, at least not once the boundless profits and planets to colonize became apparent. Once we reached that conclusion, any other species would never be a partner, be it for trade or for protection. They would always be an enemy, prime for exploitation or extermination.
Little bits of history could be pieced together to pin-point where our hunger for conquest originated. Times of tenuous peace always gave way to wars which gave way to immense profits and unimaginable wealth. Wars were waged against our own kind. The foot soldiers needn't ever have worried about the disregard we had for life; it was never about them anyways. Little bits of history could have been pieced together to save the Ro'or, had they ever suspected anything amiss with the mortality of the fleshy lumps we were.
To give credit where credit is due, the Ro'or were not a warring species. They had dedicated eons of scientific research towards the good of the universe, unlocking secrets far beyond our wildest dreams. They were a wealth of knowledge, to be trite. They were a wealth of resources, too, ripe for exploitation. So the Ro'or became the target, not long after having initiated diplomatic relations with the most powerful of Earth's leaders. We dispatched them with ease, at least at first, killing their diplomats and envoys just as a proof of concept. After all, weapons had never been their priority.
Then things took a turn for the worse, as they inevitably seem to do when humans get involved. As advanced as the Ro'or were, they were able to develop killing machines that outmatched even our own. Luckily for us, as peaceful as the Ro'or were, they sought peace as soon as reasonable; once the population of Earth had been decimated and bodies lay piled higher than buildings as the limited survivors struggled to cope with the onslaught, much less with burying the dead. The Ro'or came then in a magnificent gesture of peace, bringing with them their leaders and make-shift warriors and resources to help repair and reconstruct our war-torn planet once the massive burial ceremonies were complete.
What they never seem to have imagined or stumbled upon in their exploration or research was a species that just didn't stay dead. How do you explain to peaceful aliens that not only had we all been infected by a virus that acted as a safeguard against our inevitable demise, but in fact we had cultivated and bred people to carry it? Better safe than sorry, given our propensity for killing each other. The last thing they expected was to find nobody to bury. They scrambled to fight back against the army of the undead, clawing and firing away and desperately trying to save their leaders and survive. It was futile, as resistance tends to be. We really had perfected the systematic elimination of anybody different from us.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-08-28T10:30:44 | 2019-08-28T10:26:36 | 671 | 272 |
[WP] it is said that there are 7 people spread out in the world who look just like you. It just so happens that all 7 of you are in an elevator when one of them says ”so your probably wondering why I gather all of you here” as he presses the emergency stop button.
Please don’t attack me for my grammar: I wrote this on my phone in the car going to MacDonalds in a few minutes. Thank you for understanding. | The man by the button immediately pulled out a pistol. “Let me cut to the chase,” he said, “My name is Steven Burke, you can call me Seven. I’ve worked as a top assassin for over 7 years and quite frankly I’m sick of it. So, through extraordinary circumstances I’ve managed to get all six of you together in this one space.” Seven proceeded to point at the man next to me, “ Now, you’re all going to tell me what your lives consist of, starting with #6.” The man looked confused, “Uh, I’m Bruce Johnson, I work as an accountant for a restaurant chain.” “Ugh, crunching numbers sounds lame!” said Seven who then shot #6 in the face. Everyone in the elevator started to panic. “Next!” Seven exclaimed. One of the men shouted out, “I’m Daniel Kerns, I’m a skydiving instructor!” “I’m afraid of heights. Next!” said Seven as he shot the next man. “I’m Xavier Reeves, I work as an ice cream taste tester” said #5. “Sounds promising, but I’m lactose intolerant. Next!” shouted Seven as he shot #5. “My patience is wearing thin. You three, just tell me your names and professions at once!” The men before me both proceeded to declare they are a neurosurgeon and a freelance artist. Neither sounded appealing to Seven as he murdered them both. “Now, you,” Seven told me, “tell me your name and profession.” “Uh, I’m Noah Matiezyn, I work in fast food.” I pathetically let out. “Hmmm, fast food. That sounds like work I can get accustomed to. Give me your ID now.” I immediately handed it over, although it was definitely a struggle due to all the dead bodies present. “Now, it’s time for you to die.” Seven said as he pointed at me. “No!” I shouted as I grabbed on to his gun. A couple of gunshots echoed until there was only silence..
A couple hours later, maintenance workers and several FBI agents were able to pry open the door. They were astounded by the bloody room. “Are you alright sir?” one agent asked, “We’ve been pursuing the deadly assassin Seven for a long time. Glad you were able to end his reign of terror. What is your name?” Thinking about it, I responded with “Xavier Reeves.” | 2:“Well, whatever it is, I’m glad you broke the ice. Less so about locking us all in here.”
3:”Yeah. Let’s hear it. Unnerving enough to see 6 other ‘Me’.”
1:”Right. Let me start by saying this isn’t a coincidence. I’ve spent the last 10 years getting us back together by pulling strings behind the scenes. Promotions, events, and where your families lived. It wasn’t easy, but this was the only way to be sure.”
4:”If you want a thank you for helping us financially I’ll get you a lotto ticket and be on my way.”
5:”Pay attention, it’s obviously more than that.”
1:”Right. I’ll get straight to the point of why we look the same. Genetically identical clones.”
6:”That’s complete BULL! Clones aren’t a thing you dip! If it were real the world governments would have an endless army on their hands. You think I’ll believe that?”
1:”All of us have a birthmark on our left arm just above the elbow. You are from Beijing, he’s from Moscow, he’s from Poland, those two are from England and Scotland respectively, that one is from BC Canada, and I’m from New York. We were all made in Washington 60 miles below the monument on September 15th 35 years ago. Only reason I know this is because I was raised among the people who made us. You weren’t entirely wrong about the ‘IF’. We were made in the attempt to make that endless army. To be more accurate, an army of super soldiers. I was the control group, while each of you were slightly modified. I didn’t find out how before starting to take action. You haven’t been informed, but they planned to capture each of you in the next month and spend the next 50 years performing experiments on your bodies. After leaving your bodies a bloody mess they would then clone each of you to see what they can do to them. I left them when I found this out, and they haven’t caught up with me yet. You all deserve a better life than what they plan. I had to let you know. When you get out of here, you need to find out how to use your modifications. Stay in contact with each other, but never openly speak of this conversation again lest they find out I was involved with this meeting. Any questions?”
7:”Yeah... lots I could ask, but if what you’re saying is true, there isn’t enough time for that. My question is this, who were we cloned from?”
1:”They named him after the Christian demigod Jesus due to where the body was found and being a ‘perfect specimen’. I was named after him, but I’ve decided to take a different name.”
6:”And that would be...?”
1:”Brothers, you may call me...”
Damian. Damian Pride. | 2019-09-15T18:16:57 | 2019-09-15T17:33:36 | 2,141 | 53 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | You always thought how did other's manage to perfectly catch whatever flew into their hands?
Today, you knew. Before the summoning square in the capital of the Great Empire, you stood. As did everyone who turned 18 today. The knights began to call out your names, one by one.
There were 12 names before yours.
The first man summoned, and after a wait of 10 minutes, appeared a sword , glistening with morning dew. The Imperial Bookman declared that it was the Lost Sword, the sword of Sir Jeremiah of the Dawn. There was an uproar throughout the capital. A new hero had been born. No one expected that they would be surprised once again.
The girl right before you summoned, and after a wait of an hour, appeared a staff adorned with seven jewels of different colours, and a transparent orb on top of it. The staff was taller than the girl by a foot, and the Imperial Bookman was struck by fear upon looking at it. He declared, that it was the staff of The Saintess, the most powerful healing type equipment in the world. It hadn't been seen for the past 7 years. The country was in uproar.
After you summoned, you waited. Time passed. everyone else had already summoned. You saw the new Saintess being escorted by the King, the man with the Lost Sword being lead in the direction of the Imperial Sword School, and anyone who was still waiting for their Summon after that, had already got it after about 5 hours. Some items flew in from across the Endless Sea, they said, so it might take time.
You had always hoped to obtain a soulmate, a thing that only one in 5000 youths received. You believed that you would have received a legendary piece of equipment, so that you could become a hero loved by the people. So you waited. Another 4 hours passed. It was almost evening now. You were hungry.
The sky grew dark. The clouds gathered. The sun shone red. The crows cawed, cawed as if it was the end of the world. The Imperial Bookman looked up in the sky. You looked up. The eye's of everyone in the surroundings were drawn up.
You saw it. A scythe. Darker than the night, shining more brightly than a coat of adamantium, redder than freshly drawn blood. A disaster descended.
It came to you naturally, like it was always a part of you. As if you had done it a million times before. The scythe landed in your hand. Your aura pierced the sky. Your mind turned blank. A blood-lust took over you senses.
The Imperial Bookman fell. Fear reflected in his helpless eyes. His mouth moved, but sound refused to come out. As the scythe fell, all sound was lost. In the absolute silence, one could almost hear the Bookman say, "Death has descended."
​
​
Edit: I can probably whip up a part two, but it wouldnt be nearly as decent. ill see about it | On your eighteenth birthday you can summon one thing. Anything, they say. Steal yourself a soulmate. Get yourself a fortune. I have both. I don't need more than what I have.
"What did you ask for?" I had just blown out the candles on my cake and my parents were waiting in tense anticipation. My girlfriend looked on more suspiciously. I guess she knew me better.
"If I tell you, it won't come true," I retorted. That was true, I think. It used to be true, when the candles were just a wish and nothing tore across the world at breakneck speeds to fall into your hand. It wouldn't come that day. She kept asking me to tell her, but I couldn't. Not until it arrived. It didn't come the next day either. It must have really had to travel some distance.
It was a moonless night when I knew it would come. We were sitting in the gazebo. Crickets chirped. In the distance, a coyote howled. She wrapped the blanket a little tighter, looking out towards the glowing eyes of the forest creatures. "Did you wish for anything at all?" she asked with a disappointed shake of her head. I could barely discern her face in the darkness. It might not have been unlike me to take them all along for a ride and not have asked for anything at all.
I kissed her hair softly. The breeze picked up, as if on cue. "Remember our first date?" I asked. She let out a little groan of annoyance but nodded. I wasn't changing the subject. These things just take time. "I told you that if I could, I would give you the world."
"And the sky and the moon and..." Her voice cut short and she glanced up. A shooting star lit a dim path across the sky. She pulled away from me, exposing my bare skin to the cold air. "The moon. You didn't..."
I grinned, although she couldn't see it. Or maybe on that moonless night she could still see the glow of my teeth "Did I?"
"It would... Kill us all... It serves a purpose, out there..." I knew that. I wasn't stupid. I had been blessed with an excellent education and knew what the moon did. It would be suicide, to send it hurtling towards Earth, even if it were shrunk to fit in the palm of my hand.
"I didn't," I said finally and I heard her let out a sigh of relief.
"Don't scare me like that." She lay back down onto my chest. I caressed the little orb that had materialized as if from nowhere into my hand. It wasn't from nowhere. It was from somewhere far, far away.
"Sorry," I murmured. "Do you want to see what I asked for?" She didn't nod. She didn't shake her head. I think she was scared; not of the hungry creatures watching or the uncanny darkness of the night but of the endless possibilities I could have asked for. I pulled my hand up, balled into a fist. Light escaped from between my fingers and I heard her breathe in sharply. "I promised you the world," I said as I unclenched my hand to show her the blue of the oceans and the green of forests and the glowing lights of cities.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-09-18T07:59:37 | 2019-09-18T06:35:54 | 2,312 | 197 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | The sky opened up with a sickening *CRACK,* like some giant primordial egg ripped open by a great force. From above, between rigid jags of blue, a deep, inky black darker than any night sky I had seen before stared down on my 18th birthday party.
My hand, outstretched, palm facing the now sundered heavens, began to tremble. Paper plates and solo cups whipped around my parents' back yard as a strong wind began to blow. A hot dog flew into my shoulder, but I didn't move, didn't look away. I heard the screams. I heard my family and friends yelling my name, telling me to take shelter. But I couldn't move. It wasn't here yet. I could *sense* it. More than that, I could *feel* it. That warm, gentle rise in my chest. The familiar anticipation, like a loved one leaning in for a hug. This is how they said it would feel. No doubt about it, my Summon was coming.
The inky blackness above gave the distinct impression that the world itself was a vessel, safe and closed off from the outside, now torn, breached, vulnerable. Smooth tendrils began to extend from the darkness, lapping at the inner surface of this broken container. Their ends flicked in swift, fluid motion against the blue sky, now turning grey and cracking at the points of contact. A deep vibration descended through the air in patterns. I couldn't hear it, but it felt like speech.
I was still frozen in place, hand extended towards the blackness. I wanted to move, to run, to escape what I knew I could not. My whole body shook as I stared helplessly upwards, bathed in the menacing aura of what lay beyond that abyss. The patches of sky that had grown grey and cracked were now shattering, revealing more void. The pieces fell like bits of a broken eggshells, igniting in brilliant flame at they entered the atmosphere.
Tears escaped the corners of my eyes as I witnessed the end of my world. Suddenly, the deep vibration stopped, and I could barely make out what looked like a small object being lowered by three of the black, formless tendrils. No, not lowered, it was being pulled. By me. The otherworldly appendages were grasping it, trying to pull it back into the hole in the sky, but it was steadily moving downwards, towards my open palm.
It was about ten 10 feet above me when I could finally make it out. An egg? It was a small sphere, no bigger than a softball. I heard a bone-shaking shriek that reverberated across the sky as the last tendril lost it's grasp and the egg rushed the final few feet into my hand. This was it. Euphoria. I never felt such warmth in my being before. It was as if I had lived life with no heart up until this moment, and I could not longer imagine life without it.
Above me, the black tentacles became enraged, violently smashing their enormous weight against the inner shell of our fragile world. Titanic chunks of sky began falling as giant balls of fire hurtling towards the Earth. My sense of my surroundings had returned to me. My mother was taking refuge under a picnic table while the rest of the attendants of my birthday party watched with terrified faces from the windows of the house. She had been mouthing words that until now I couldn't hear. She was telling me to send it back. Please, please, send it back and come inside.
I looked at her, then looked down at the orb resting in my hands. The black sheen that had surrounded it was dripping through my hands onto the ground, and what remained was a beautiful, bright sphere of green and blue. white tufts seemed to swirl just beneath the hard shell, revealing sections of the interior and covering others. It was warm.
I looked up again at the sky. It was hard to see the breach behind the falling mounds of hellfire, but that blood curdling screech could still be heard over every other sound. I looked back down at my egg. So pure and full of life. I looked back at my mother, still begging me to send back my Summon, my other half, my birthright. The air is getting hot, almost too hot to breath.
I clutch my egg close to my body, turn fully towards her, and mouth the word 'No' as the trees begin to catch fire and the sweat evaporates from our skin. | *"There are two types of people in this world - the living and the dead. Those who have found their purpose and received their divine gift are those who we count among the living. So weep not for those who passed young, for they were already among the dead."*
Angry. That was the only way I have felt my entire life from the day my younger brother died. Initially, it was a shocking moment for the entire community as with the advancement we have had in the past century early deaths were rare. The whole world seemed to grieve that moment as it was akin to losing limitless potential. Had it only stayed that way. Had things never would have changed.
Yet that's just the way life has always been. A tumultuous mess filled with the cruelty of those who sought power over others. And taking control over others was a lot easier than most thought it to be. After all, it only took 48 words for James to rewrite peoples beliefs.
It didn't mean much to me at the time but that was because I didn't truly understand the implications of those words. As time pressed on his grip over us all became firmer and the next generation became a thing of the past. No longer did adults confer with children, for it was now seen as a taboo. After all, nowhere in history did the living ever talk to the dead.
I didn't blame James for this, he was just a man who fervently believed in his ideals. I blamed the selfishness of those who listened to him. James was merely a fanatic who truly believed that focusing on those who had direction would be the most efficient way to get through life.
It made sense at the simplest level but he forgot to factor that those who are now untrained would soon join the ranks of the living. When the dead are left to wander it is only the living that suffers, yet no matter how much I propagated this message no one would listen to me. For talking to the dead was taboo.
Soon, however, I would have a chance to change all of this. Soon, I would be able to change the sins of my forefathers. For today was the morn of my 18th birthday and I now waited patiently in front of the 'gates of birth'. Once I crossed the threshold I would be able to call to the world and it would answer. And once the world answered me, so to would they have to.
I would be the bridge that tethers the living to the dead. I would remind them that their ideologies were flawed and those who had no direction were still very much alive.
Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted as the gates slowly creaked open and James stood in his elegant gown with his arms outstretched welcoming me forward. I remembered the way this would always play out - the gates would open and James would pull the newest member of the living to the side and talk with them for some time. After conversing he would send them forward to the central pedestal to call upon the world to answer their cries.
Without missing a beat I walked straight past James to the room to the side he would always take the dead to. I didn't need to put up with their rituals, I just wanted to get this done as soon as possible.
"What do you want Ja-"
James, who always stood so proudly in front of the people was collapsed on the floor with tears streaming down his face.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I had never meant for them to take those words that way. I just wanted-"
I remembered clearly now. Every time James would take to the stage their would always be faded tears on his face. There was always a cruel look of regret hugging close to him. I don't know what he was trying to accomplish with those words, but it was his fault for forgetting that words have power. That you could never take back actions. That he never actually tried to right his wrongs.
*So I'm sorry to James. For I cannot forgive you for all you have done. You have had all the time in the world to change what you could've done, but that time is past. Regret for the rest of your life what you have put in motion.*
And so I pushed past James leaving him shocked on the floor, but somewhere in that shock, I felt as though I could see a hint of acceptance. Maybe even longing. I didn't care now, for it was finally my time.
There was a rage barely lying beneath the core of my being that I had to force myself to ignore. I didn't care about the people around me. All I cared about was what I could do going forward.
And so, I called to the world.
There was a brief pause as everyone held their breath. Normally when people made the call they were answered instantly. But it was as if the world understood my request and knew what must be done. And what must be done took time.
When that time finally came people looked at me with horror but all I could answer them with was a bittersweet smile.
For as I called to the world, certainly did it answer. | 2019-09-18T08:25:27 | 2019-09-18T07:55:38 | 162 | 37 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | When my parents turned 18, they summoned each other. That rarely happens, and when it does, it happens for the people who are really destined to be together. It saves them the trouble of matchmaking and forced marriage. But, like I said, it happens once in fifty years, maybe more. The people who got lucky enough must've been very innocent and clean-spirited. It's pretty hard to stay that way in my village. Especially if you're from the lower class. My parents stringed through, though. Happens.
Well, I'm far from kind and innocent, so I won't summon my soulmate. I'll probably summon a useful thing, like a book, or an animal. Most girls get large spinning wheels, or extra warm blankets. Boys get specifically designed weapons, or... well actually nothing else. I would've felt sorry for them, but women are so suppressed in our village that it evens out, and then goes far beyond balance.
My village is horrible. Well, mostly for the lower class. The higher classes have a luxurious life, with plenty of food and drink, warm clothes, books. But you do occasionally hear screams of higher class girls who landed abusive husbands. They still have it easier though; they only have to see their husbands at night. The women of my class have it harder. They don't even scream anymore. The womem who try to escape... let's just say nobody tries anymore.
I turned 18 today, and now I'm standing on the pedestal where it all happens. The moon or the sun should align or something (I don't really listen when my dad talks about our religion), and it should happen within 10 seconds. So, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2? 1?
Everyone stares at me. Nothing happens. I'm getting nervous second by second. A minute passes. 2 minutes. My parents shoot worried lookd at me. I know people are getting confused. That's bad. You wouldn't like to upset the community. That would mean you're different. Maybe people will think you're a witch.
But then, my prayers are answered and there's something dark visible within the clouds. It's falling, and I can't look directly on it because of the sun. And what do you think? My summoned gift falls directly on my head. A few people laugh, and that releases the tension. I sigh, relieved, and examine the gift.
It's a dead bird.
The laughs stop, as people acknowledge what I have in my hand. I'm terrified myself. My mother let's out a barely audible gasp. My father is telling her to calm down, a little aggressively. I guess the other men did influence my father in the end.
As I try to gather my thoughts, I hear people debating on what to do with me. The men are gathered in a circle, and the women stay aside, scared. My father is trying to settle things somehow, but I know it's useless. I'll be declared a witch and probably killed. The sound of men arguing is becoming louder. I look at the poor creature in my hand. It's a sparrow. I stare at it, and feel my heart beating stronger and stronger. Then, the bird stirs. I wipe my eyes, and yes! It's alive! It gets up on its tiny feet, and takes off. I see it swiftly glide through the air. Then, I can barely hear it over the beating of my heart, a voice somewhere in the crowd of people, or maybe in my mind says something.
"Run."
And I do. Right after my sparrow. |
Mother and Father stood nearby, looking expectantly at me as I took my place in the center of the rooming facing the great grandfather clock that command the attention of everyone.
Along the edges of the room waited the rest of our family and friends, all in attendance with me as the hour of my birth; 11:59pm, 18 years ago to the minute, neared. Soon it would be time for my summoning. The moment when all those who upon the hour of adult hood will hold out their hand and have their one thing appear. For some a person appears, this who is destined to be your great soulmate and the love of your life, like when my mother summoned my father. For others it is an object of great importance, integral to their life and identity, like our protector Donar Woodenson, the thunder bringer and guardian of humanity, wielding his mighty hammer.
The seconds ticked away as the lights dimmed and our fiends and family leaned in expectantly, I held out my hand like father had taught me. As I did so I felt the power of the cosmos begin to whirl around me as the hour of my birth arrived! The minute hand moved to 11:59 pm, here goes nothing I thought.
And exactly nothing happened!
Aunts and Uncles looked at each other confused; while my younger Cousin laughed at my misfortune, my face burned with embarrassment as I stared at my empty hand confused. Was I cursed, what had gone wrong?
“An ill omen” tittered my great aunt poppy, as she clucked disapprovingly.
“Nonsense” my father boomed, striding across the floor to me.
“Sometimes it just takes a minute or two, nothing to fret about son” he said as the words wrapped around me in comfort like the arm he placed on my shoulder, “why when I was your age…” he started to say but never got the chance to finish for at that moment the great clock struck midnight, the witching hour and the bells inside the imposing temple to father time played there deep and brassy tune.
Suddenly the room was filled with a surge of power that silenced all murmurs as electricity crackled through the air. It centered on me and my still outstretched hand as my father backed away. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I felt the anticipation flow through me. The chimes of the clock turned to thunder, and the air in the room was rent by light as strange shapes of no earthly form appeared before my eyes. The room was pervaded by the deep smell of the sea, a not so pleasant smell of rotting fish and decaying seaweed. Then a hellish sound as if a million souls were crying out desperate in their damnation at losing hope. People clapped their hands to there ears, some falling to their knees, struck dumb by the sound.
Then just as suddenly as it had begun, the ordeal was over, before me holding my hand was a creature of unimaginable horror, with the greenish body of a man, the wings of a dragon, the head of an octopus and the eyes of a demon. CTHULHU!!!!
In my abject horror at the monster I had summoned, I tried to dispel this foul creature, yet before this thought could fly from my head, my summoned creation beheld me in its gaze and my soul fled my body in panic, and my consciousness was shattered by madness, rooting me in place, forced to watch as this Doom of an old god struck down my family who were unable to flee, as his very visage drove sanity from their minds and reduced them to mumbling stupor.
With each death, he grew greater, until his hideous form broke through the roof, he bowed down and almost lovingly scooped me, his unwitting parent into his embrace, as he walked forth into the world, to destroy it and awaken his slumbering brothers beyond the veil of this reality. I could only hope that the defender of man will defeat him, but my son has taken away my hope, my fear, my pain, my joy, and my love, an so I am forced to watch the end that I have summoned through eyes that can now only hold Terror. | 2019-09-18T09:06:39 | 2019-09-18T08:16:27 | 125 | 57 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | I scanned the horizon once more, wondering when my summoned item would arrive. I also wondered if there was a chance it was a person, and that they would simply appear in the antechamber of my home, like they always do. I shuddered at the thought of another human being forced upon me under the guise of a "soulmate". I turned and sneered at the happy couple on the bench down the road that I was almost certain was one of those couples. They were so wrapped in each others arms they failed to notice me gaze. *Disgusting*.
The worst thing about The Summoning is that there was no way to predict how and when the unknown object was going to arrive. You just have to wait after you invoke the summoning, which itself you have no control of. The invocation itself is the transition from 17 to 18 years of age.
I recall with fondness the story of Herma, who found out that she could summon water, but only from a particular lake hundreds of miles away. Two months passed her by as the whole contents of the lake ripped through thousands of miles of villages and farmland before it crashed into her home, killing her and her entire family. Oh, there are generations of similar stories, some worse that Herma's. The reality, though, is that what people typically end up being able to summon is mostly harmless or people.
I saw a shadow moving in the distance. A large creature with wings was fast approaching. I knew instinctively that this was my summoned being. Waves of relief washed over me. I was happy knowing it was not going to be a person, and I returned to sneering at the couple down the road as I waited for the creature to arrive.
The creature landed on the roof of my home without a sound. It watched me from that vantage point as I glared at the couple. It took a moment for me to remove my eyes from the vile human spectacle and return my gaze to the sky only to realize that the creature was gone. I heard a low growl and turned to see a fully-grown dragon resting on my house.
I spoke aloud. "Finally, what I have summoned has arrived!" I turned to the couple, they took no notice of my gesture. Their mouths were locked onto each other. I frowned.
The dragon spoke next. *No, you fool.* Its voice reverberated in my mind. *You did not summon me as the humans do.* I felt the creature quell my confusion. *You summoned me as the dragons do.* It screeched and set me aflame.
Though it should've pained me, the flames felt warm on my body. The cobblestone beneath me melted and my shoes were reduced to cinders. I looked up at the dragon and felt myself rise with the fire. I heard my clothes tear and a shudder rippled through me. Soon, I gazed at eye level with the dragon and smiled. If she meant to kill me, she'd have to find another way.
I conveyed this information with my mind and simultaneously realized two things: that I was speaking to her with my mind and I was now aware that she was a female dragon. She cackled and the flames stopped, though my body did not fall. Looking down, I saw the scales of a dragon where my torso should be, and I stood as large as my home. The dragon turned her head so that one eye faced me. *You are the first dragon created in a thousand years.* Her eye sparkled with an internal flame. *Now, let us both remind the humans why we are the true rulers of this planet.*
I understood what she meant in an instant. I turned to the couple seated in terror on the bench, grimaced at their continued affection for one another even in this dire moment, and set them on fire. I burned them until the stone bench itself melted into the earth. I twisted to face the dragon and gave her a wicked smile. She cackled back. | A sea of gasps wash over the howling wails of my ex-girlfriend's hysteric sobbing. The dull roll of murmurs slithering its way around the crowd soon followed. To be honest I was quite shocked myself. I did not expect this, I had some suspicion, maaaaybe. But this, even by my standards this was a bit much. I looked around at my peers at the summoning. Some held common work tools, a few held precious gems... one lucky fool was holding the hand of a very beautiful woman that was pull out of the crowd. But I was the luckiest of them all.
"Albere, why is Albere in your hand!?" my ex-girlfriend shouted at me through her tears. I honestly didn't expect her to show up at my summoning. Sure we had been inseperable since we've been able to put together our first little sentences but it had been over between us for quite a few months now. I thought I made that clear.
"Why would you ask such a question? This is our..." looked at the small child held firmly in my grasp. "... this is MY son. You thought you could keep him from me! You thought you knew better but look..." I was so happy I could barely see the expression on her face through my own tears. I hadn't seen his little face in over a year but here he was in my arms.
"We weren't ready... you know that... I didn't take him away..." I saw her body fall to the ground as she collapse on her knees. "... please.. give him back... try the summoning again... this is wrong... you know this is wrong..." It was rare to see the little spoiled princess begging so shamelessly but from her tone I could hear she was serious. And I had a small idea as to why.
"OH! So that is why you are here. You were hoping that I was the wrong one... that I made a mistake and that I'd summon you!" The idea was so ridiculous that I couldn't contain my laughter. "Haha, you think I would want to be with someone like YOU!? You callous spoiled COW! I have my son.. I have my purpose! My world nor any other world in existence lives to revolve around you... OW... ow..."
My moment of triumph was interrupted as a few people in the crowd started to throw rocks and other small items at me. Turning to shield my son, I welcomed the assault and the bruises they would leave behind. I'd wear them like medals of honor. "You're all COWS! Livestock feeding on the conveniences of your placid complacent lives! I will be great... I will be greater than all of you!"
"Please..." she pleaded more. "Albere is dead... let him rest... let him go... " I wanted to yell back at her. I want to tell her that he was dead because of her. Her weakness. She never wanted him. But the small objects started to get larger.. and harder... and thrown with much more force. I had to run. I feared their anger would soon fester into a murderous rage. "Noooo stop it! No....."
I was shocked... almost touched. The spoil little cow was actually defending me. Going so far as to throw her frail little body in front of mine. I had to hold back a chuckle as one of the larger stones struck her in the head and she made this off-toned warble of a sound. I failed at my attempted obviously as I let loose a sound just as awkward that I could only describe as a chortle. Still for the first time in a severely long time the girl proved herself useful. The accidental strike to her head gave the crowd a moment's pause.
I didn't hesitate for a second. As fast as my feet could carry me I clutched my son's dead decaying body to my chest and I ran. I always had an inkling it was real. I knew if summoning existed other forms of magic could exist. This was my destiny. He came back to me for a reason. The death of my son was only a precursor to the birth of Necromancy in this world, and they would both refer to me as... Father. "I will bring him back... I will bring them ALL back. You'll see." I shouted out behind me. Not daring to look back over my shoulder to see upon what ears my words had landed. | 2019-09-18T09:27:31 | 2019-09-18T09:06:29 | 123 | 32 |
[WP] An Alien and it’s Human sidekick roam the galaxy, willing to do just about any job to keep the fuel tanks full. The only issue - most clients have never seen a Human and they’re terrified by the sight of one.
Cake Day Post!
EDIT: wanted to say thank you to everyone that responded! I’ve been reading your stories on here for years & couldn’t have asked for a better cake day! | As the FDS *Venture* docked with the mining station, the commsystems on its bridge activated with a brief bleep. Soon, the station’s portmaster was on the screen, looking at a common sight and a most unusual one.
”Alright, I’m going to need you to identify yourselves. Name, titles and jobs, species, and matching identification information.”
”I’ll go first,” said the strange creature. ”My name is Eric Stephansson, and I am the second-in-command of this fine vessel. I am also a specialist on precursor cultures, and take care of the ship’s ECM and ECCM in combat situations. I am a human, born in the sol system on the fringes of the Orion Spur, and I am a citizen of the Outer Orion Republic. My identifications should come through in a moment.”
”*A human?*” Thought the portmaster. But he’d ask more later.
”And I am Gohn Drian, captain of this ship. We do all sorts of oddjobs to keep our tanks from going empty. Salvaging, bounty hunting, surveying, anything goes. I am a Koln, born on the currently abandoned planet Kliqa. My identifications should also come in a moment.”
”*Kliqa? I thought that planet had been abandoned since far before my birth? But their identifications do match and I’m more curious about the human.*”
”How did a human get here? I thought it was common knowledge that they were relatively isolated from the rest of the galaxy, with a closed-border policy since... well, ever?”
”See, that’s a complex story. Basicly, they do still send relief fleets for major crisises, like the recent collapse of the Fudun regime. I happened to be assigned to one that hunts pirates. After a few ships blowing up, a few chance encounters, us taking out a pirate warlord, and such, we eventually got in this situation. I won’t bore you, but I am certanly not a political prisoner that has escaped.”
”Alright, well, your IDs seem to be correct, thought I’m seeing a few minor anomalies in the numbers. Well, do whatever you were meaning to do here, just don’t break the law.”
The screen flickered off, and in the brief moments between that and the lights turning back on, the two figures wondered what next.
”So... what’s our job here, exactly?”
And as the captain turned towards the human with a tense look, he only said: ”Assassination.” | **OK, my human sidekick.**
You can call me Dave like you normally do, Xzorp. It's as clear as you are a seven foot tall purple being with four tentacles instead of two arms.
**Exposition complete. Now, then. I talked the to the guy working the space gas station.**
The what?
**I mean, gas station. We have a problem. They don't accept galactic credits as a form of payment.**
Why not?
**No idea. One of those interstellar currency only joints. Do they not trust our great galactic banks?**
To be fair, it's been a rough week for the financial markets.
**It wasn;t so bad until Galactic Prime Emperor Keith Johnson lost the whole treasury betting on soybean futures.**
But soybeans don't grow around here?
**Right, which brings me to the next order of business. We need fuel. Now, the gas station folks have never seen a human. In fact, when I mentioned that I had one on board, they flipped. The one named Blern grabbed a laser pistol and told me that the human race was known as the most deadly and cancerous in the universe.**
We are?
**I mean, now you are. The year is 14712. Your ancestors have done some crazy shit, like Slavery II. How did they get away with that? The word Slavery was right in the name! Anyhow, I told them you're from a more primitive, gentle time, plus you're disease free and their organ will fit in your mouth.**
Oh no.
**Yes.**
Why does this always happen?
**Because the currency problems in this universe are legion. But if there's a species you can blow, there's a species you can get money from.**
Why do I always have to do it? You never put on a pair of space kneepads and had to get your, uh, mouth? Mouth dirty?
**It's technically a mouth, yes. And the thing is, I own this great machine that lets us travel in time and space. If you wanna ride the ride, you gotta buy a ticket.**
I see.
**With your mouth.**
Yeah, yeah, fine. How many are there?
**Three. And according to the fat one, its really easy to make their kind come. But don't look at their genitals. You'll go insane and succumb to space madness.**
Do I have to? What about our backup plan?
**I didn't wanna tell you. There's a problem with our backup plan.**
Uh-oh.
**Right. We've been canceled.**
But this show has been on the air forever!
**The producers say our time is up.**
But this show has such a legacy! It's been on since the 60's. My grandfather got me into it! Can't we do anything to save our jobs?
**Well... *you* can.**
What? No, you don't mean....
(sound of evil laughter) (lightning) (thunder) (cut to "To Be Continued") (end theme) (credits roll) | 2020-03-05T20:41:06 | 2020-03-05T19:47:59 | 91 | 24 |
[WP] For hundreds of years you have been a healer. You changed names, faces, countries but one thing always remained the same — you cured everyone you could. You work in a modern hospital now and it's becoming much harder to do wonders and save people, while keeping your powers a secret.
[removed] | "Samuel J., diagnosed with three tumours, one of them in the brain. You were asked to remove it as part of ongoing cancer treatment. After that, his cancer disappeared entirely. His hair grew back rapidly despite continued chemotherapy."
"As you said, I removed it."
"And the cancer everywhere else?"
"The chemotherapy killed it, I suppose."
"Then what about the other two tumours, which you didn't remove? Why did they vanish instantly?"
"It could have been a false positive. MRI does that sometimes."
"That sounds rather convenient, doesn't it?" He turned to the next page. "Samantha A., brain bleeding and oxygen depravation from a failed suicide attempt. Recovered in a day, stopped experiencing suicidal thoughts. No lasting brain damage."
"That's easy to explain. The blood leaking out managed to put the oxygen back in, and I operated on her to stitch the vessels."
"And her depression?"
"Stopped after experiencing such a miraculous recovery, I assume. Something like a religious experience."
"You only stitched a few major blood arteries, according to the footage."
"Blood clots for the other ones."
"Without giving her a stroke?"
I shrug. He casts me a dirty look.
"Fine, try to explain the last one," he demands. "William R., diagnosed with a broken pelvis, among numerous other things. The CT scan confirmed it was in ten pieces, minimum, utterly unrecoverable. And he recovered. Not even in your field of specialty. You didn't even operate on him. You just spoke."
Oh. I thought they hadn't diagnosed him yet. I must be slipping up.
"Well," I explain. "as you said, I only talked to him. I told him he would recover, so it must be placebo effect." | Ever since that disease came around, the one i found hardest to cure, everything’s become so much more stressful. Be it retinal, testicular, in the lungs, this disease had to be the most horrid of them all. They named it cancer. It seemed to be the most popular of the diseases that death chose, i’d witnessed it first hand too many times to count. For some reason it just seems to drain my power, i become weaker when faced with this challenge. It brings me misery.
The only thing i can do in these situations is strive on, try my best, if not for myself then for the patients, and their families and friends who are just hoping against anything and everything that they will come home. That’s the joy of doing it all, seeing the smiles and hearing the cries of joy when i give them the news.
“Your son, his cancer has receded. It’s gone for now.”
But there was always a dark side to things as well. When the surgeries and healing didn’t go so well and we didn’t manage to fight off the horrid disease. Listening closely as the heart rate monitor slowed it beeps, the virtual line getting less steep each time before it hollowed itself down to nothing, just a straight line with that everlasting ringing accompanying it.
“I’m sorry ma’am. The procedure didn’t go too well, i’m afraid they’ve passed away”
Those reactions were the worst i had to witness. Watching as all the light, all the hope, faded from their eyes and they were left just standing. Blinking as though any moment they’d wake up and everything would be okay. But they never did. Then the tears started coming, streaking down their cheeks and dripping off their chin, sometimes they cried silently and other times they were loud sobs. I couldn’t blame either of them, i can’t imagine the pain they felt.
Some didn’t even cry, they just stood there silently. Numb. Maybe they’d felt pain like this before or maybe they just didn’t know how to react. They’d bring out their phones and dial, the ringing barely going on for very long before the other end was picked up, a hopeful ‘hello?’ before they too were told the shocking news.
I just hope i can save more people, i don’t want to see their families sad. | 2020-11-15T09:35:55 | 2020-11-15T03:50:41 | 37 | 20 |
[WP]: There's a tiny predator in the human quarters that nobody is allowed to exterminate - under the threat of complete human riot. The humans willingly admit that yes, it DOES sometimes try to attack humans as well, but altogether, they are relaxed by the presence of the "cat". | Nchai still remembered the first time they’d seen it, they remembered it as clear as if it had happened just a few orbits ago.
They were part of the cleaning crew. It was a challenging job.
Each of the 122 habitation quarters on the Union Council Station were customized for different species, with vastly different artificial gravities, atmospheric pressures and compositions, radiation levels and so on. Failure to follow the proper procedures when entering or leaving the habitats could easily result in serious injury or worse. In the early days of the Union, it had been up to the individual species to maintain the cleanliness of their own habitats. This, however, had been a dismal failure. As it turns out, the majority of even the most advanced spacefaring species are just vastly incompetent when it comes to voluntarily maintaining their own living environment.
On this particular orbit, Nchai and two others were cleaning the Human quarters. While such tasks could easily be delegated entirely to robots and the AI’s that operated them, many of the habitats were just far too delicate. Notwithstanding the difficulty of designing a robot that could adapt to all the different conditions and maintenance tasks, some of the Union species were quite distrustful of AI’s to begin with. The cleaning crew did use semi-autonomous robots though, with 51 different designs in total. In this case, the robots were of a flat, triangular format called Sweepers. The Humans called these types of robots “roombas”, allegedly after some primitive type of vacuuming robot from their ancient history.
Nchai had stood there, monitoring the sensory feeds of the sweepers on their nerve-interface, and that’s when they saw it.
It crouched deep underneath some of the low-set oblong Human furniture, the name of which eluded Nchai. Huddled in the darkest corner, a shaggy black beast with deeply unsettling eyes that glowed in a sickly, greenish hue.
The sight of it startled Nchai to such an extent that they let out a loud screech, which carried over the comms and gave the other cleaners quite a fright as well.
Idran, the most squeamish of the three (a five-legged Aiunian male) looked at Nchai’s feed to see what had startled them. What he saw frightened him to such an extent that he immediately made for the pressure airlock, almost killing himself by failing to make the proper adjustments to his suit before cycling.
The presence of the creature was later reported to the station's Advanced Maintenance Division, which handled, among other things, the extermination of runaway pest organisms on the station.
When exterminators had later arrived at the Human habitat and told the Humans what they intended to do, they had been politely asked to leave by the leaders of the Human delegation. This had led to a lot of confusion within the Advanced Maintenance Division, and after a long discussion it had nonetheless been decided that the unsanctioned pest organism had to be eliminated. The exterminators had gone back to the Human habitat, informing the Human delegation that the pest creature would be destroyed. When one of the exterminators had approached the creature, one of the Humans had attacked the exterminator completely unprovoked, abruptly killing them.
This had led to a major diplomatic incident. The offending Human was a high diplomat, and protected by the highest Union diplomatic immunity, and so the murder could never be processed in the judiciary. There was even, for a brief period, populist talk of expelling the Humans from the Union entirely. However, with Humans contributing some extremely valuable resources to the Union, such dramatic action could never have been seriously considered.
Soon after, it was decided that the unsanctioned organism, allegedly of a predatory species called “cat”, would be assigned status as a diplomat of the Human delegation under the name “Mittens”.
Every time Nchai entered the Human habitat, it filled them with nervous anticipation.
The creature lurked (for there was no better word for it) in the dark, unseen corners. Every time they saw it, it made their skin crawl, and the more they saw of it, the more unsettling it became. From a very objective viewpoint, it was clear that the “cat” had evolved on the same planet as the Humans. It too had four limbs, though unlike humans it used all four of them for locomotion.
The fur, of which Humans showed only an evolutionary remnant, covered this being almost completely. From its rear protruded a kind of grotesque prehensile fur-tentacle, which it curiously used to grab onto Human locomotive limbs and the spindly pillars that Human furniture stood on, but which it never used for anything reasonable like carrying objects.
It’s head contained, besides those deeply unsettling eyes, a set of long, elastic cilia entirely absent on humans, which undoubtedly served some sensory function.
Once, when Nchai had gotten a closer look at it, it had opened its terrifying maw and emitted an otherworldly sound reminiscent of some noxious gas venting through a small aperture. Simultaneously, it had exposed a set of needle-sharp teeth on par with any of the Union’s most ferocious carnivore member species.
Needless to say, each time they were cleaning the Human habitat, Nchai hoped they would not come across the “cat”, and more often than not they didn’t.
One time, Nchai saw it perform an almost gravity-defying feat, scaling some of the brightly colored hanging fabrics that broke up a few of the living areas in the Human habitat. Upon closer inspection, Nchai realized that the creature had crooked razor-sharp claws on each of its limbs, which it could apparently extend and retract at will. These claws allowed it to grasp objects with frightening force, and to scale vertical surfaces without effort.
The “cat”, as unsettling as it was, intrigued Nchai to such an extent that they took it upon themselves to read up on this creature in their spare time.
What they found was disturbing beyond belief.
The “cat” was closely related to some of the largest and most fearsome predators found on the Human homeworld, many of which had actually hunted Humans!
They also found a short reference to a research article, showing that these “cats” actually carried some type of horrific parasite which they used to infect Humans and alter their brain functions in a way that made the humans more prone to taking risks and indulging self-destructive behaviours.
Nchai wondered if all the Human diplomats were infected, and if so, what they might do?
Just as Nchai thought it couldn’t get any worse, they found the results of an advanced brain scan performed by Union medical specialists on the “cat” individual called “Mittens”. It clearly showed that the thought processes of the “cat” did not significantly differ from those of the huge, Human-eating beasts once found on the Human homeworld, and if it weren’t for its small size, “Mittens” would almost certainly have killed and eaten some of the Human delegation already. In fact, Nchai found several references to incidents where “Mittens” had brutally assaulted members of the Human delegation as well as other Union diplomats.
Nchai wondered what the “cat” growth cycle was like, surely this couldn’t be Mittens’ fully grown form?
As Nchai read that these monstrous beasts actually enjoyed torturing their prey, making their inevitable death as long and painful as possible, they saw that their curiosity had opened up an abyss of horror so vast and appalling, that they had to stop themselves before they would completely lose themselves in it.
Later that orbit, Nchai found their sleep cycle disturbed by visions of that awful creature, growing to tremendous size and leaping out from underneath that grotesque oblong piece of Human furniture. Its razor claws dug into their suit and they could feel the sickening odor of the Human homeworld’s toxic atmosphere creeping into their olfactory nexus. They began to suffocate, but death did not come. The cat sat there menacingly, gloating at their demise, pinning them down with those razor-sharp claws that it had sunk into their flesh. From those claws, Nchai could feel hundreds, thousands of parasitic microorganisms spreading, squirming into their inner organs, defiling their every bodily cavity...
Nchai awoke in abject terror and found their bedding thoroughly soaked in defensive slime. That moment, they decided to quit their job and use their meager savings to get as far from the Union Council Station as they possibly could, preferably a few hundred lightyears at least. Maybe then, maybe, they could forget the shaggy, tentacled horror that lurked in the Human habitat. |
"And never ever enter the creature’s room in the human quarters! “Sir Galahad warned me. I was ordered that "No matter what happens, no harm should befall on the 'creature' in the quarters."
Today was my first day, joining the Royal Guards. Never would I have imagined that a monster would be allowed to join the royal guard.
Monsters and Humans had been in an eternal battle since time immemorial, until 5 years ago.
The Wizard King proposed a treaty between Monsters and Humans. At first the monsters were skeptical, but the Wizard king tried to persuade them. Us, Monsters were skeptical, thinking that it might be a trap. But the Wizard King was almost willing to give his own life, as a proof for the treaty! The Strongest enemy of the Monsters, giving up his life for the sake of peace! We could see the passion in the Wizard Kings eyes. That day Monsters and Humans signed a treaty to live in peace. That gave rise to our country of Concordia. I wondered at the time ,why did the wizard king suddenly want to make peace with the monsters...
Of course, there were monsters who didn’t, agree to the treaty. The wizard king was willing to let them leave on a condition that they will not harm any human again.
There had been several attempts on his life after that Treaty. And there are times when he almost died. I joined the royal guard so I could protect him!
"Remus! Day dreaming on your first day?” Sir Galahad said.
"Oh! I was just wondering why would humans have a monster in their Quarters"
"What do you mean? Sir Galahad ASKED.
"Well, I have heard that there is a very dangerous monster deep inside the human’s quarters, which attacks the humans and had taken thousands of lives. So, I was wondering why would they keep the monster there."
"Oh, don’t worry about that! Those are all rumors! “Sir Galahad replied with an absolute smiling face. “It has injured .... a few humans, but nobody died. And the humans have unanimously agreed to keep this creature in their chambers."
I was the new guard assigned to the human quarters and I was ordered that no harm should come to this creature. But what is this creature? And why have the humans kept it in their deepest depths of their quarters?
Sir Galahad continued the tour, but there was only one thing in my mind. The "creature”. I just had to know the truth! Was it mind controlling the humans? It had to be right? I must seek the answer tonight.
As midnight struck, and everyone was gone to sleep, I finished my patrol and put out my lantern. I was at the gate of the human’s quarters. I slowly opened the door, which made a slight creaking sound. I slowly checked if anyone woke up by the creaking noise. I released a sigh of relief as no one was awake and slowly moved towards the 'creatures' room.
The more I moved toward the creature's room, the more I could feel the aura of a very powerful being. Finally, I made it to the door of the creature’s room.
I was a little scared at first, but I had to know. I slowly opened the door, peeked inside. The room was a little messy. Toys were thrown around the whole room. There were a lot of scratches on the floor and a lot of hair. Whose hair was it?
My gaze then shifted to the huge bed in the room. The bed was enormous, such that two full grown ogres with their kid can sleep on it! But on the bed, I saw a very small creature, which looked like it was trying to do something with a ball.
Upon closure inspection, I suddenly felt a chill down my spine. I realized who the creature was. She was Nebula! One of the Strongest demons, who disappeared before the treaty. She was a demon of unprecedented power that even the monsters couldn’t control. What was she doing here?
For a moment, I was confused, as to why such an untamable demon was here. I sat at door for a while, pondering about the possibilities. After a while, I peeked inside and saw that nebula was asleep.
She was one of the strongest monsters in the demon army. The only problem was she wouldn’t listen to anybody, and nobody could understand her.
Then a thought came to my mind. What if, one day Nebula goes berserk and attacks the wizard king? She can definitely kill the wizard king, if he is off guard. She has also attacked several humans too...
I thought that while Nebula was sleeping, I will take her and release her into the wild. Then she will be free from this prison and she won’t harm any other humans! Everybody Wins!
Slowly and carefully, I placed my foot inside the room. I proceeded to move with caution towards Nebula, when suddenly I heard a ding sound.
I looked down, and saw that I stepped on a bell. It was dark so I didn’t notice the bell. Then suddenly my whole body became heavy and I fell to the ground! A force was pulling my body into the ground! I slowly looked up to see Nebula on her legs covered with a malicious Aura. She was definitely intending to hurt me!
She swinged her paw, towards my leg. The sheer power of her swing, sent a blade of wind, harming my leg. I was scared. I panicked and tried to crawl my way to the exit. But my body was too heavy. Nebula moved her paw up. I knew there was going to be another wind attack. I looked around the room, to defend myself from the attacks, but the room was full of toys! Still, I was searching and I saw a sign near Nebulas bed. It read: -
" In case Bella goes Berserk. Chant this spell"
There! A way to calm her down. I took a deep breath and channeled the spell with all my might.
​
​
​
​
​
​
​
"PSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPPSSPS"
Suddenly my body felt lighter. The magic was gone. I looked up and nebula was calm. She then slowly moved towards me.
Not knowing what to do, I checked the instructions.
"After chanting the spell, Give Bella some 'rubs’. AND REMEMBER, DONT RUB HER ON HER CHIN!!!"
So, they have named her Bella. I followed the instructions. I slowly rubbed her head. She moved her head rapidly, as to give a message that she was enjoying it. After some 'rubs’ on her head, Nebula rolled over with her stomach up. Did she want me to give 'rubs' on her stomach? I proceed to rub her stomach gently. She shook her body and made a weird noise. By the looks of it, I think she was enjoying it.
I have never felt this calm in my life. This was a weird feeling as moment ago, I was scared out of my life. Nevertheless, I was also enjoying this.
Doing this, I saw how adorable nebula was. Who would spread rumors that she had killed thousands of humans!
After a brief session of 'rubs’, Nebula fell asleep on my lap. I gently picked her up and put her on the bed. I have found the truth about the 'creature' in the human’s quarters. I proceeded to exit the room, when I bumped into somebody.
"Well, Well, Well, look what we have here."
I was shocked! It was the Wizard King himself!
"Wizard king! I-I-I mean Sir! Pardon the intrusion!!!I heard some weird noises in this room, so I came to check. I have heard about Bell- I mean this 'creature' room in the human’s quarters, so I just came here to check! "
"Oh, just to check... I see. Did you happen to see anything peculiar here? “The Wizard King asked with a smile on his face.
"Absolutely not sir! Nothing wrong here! I will take my leave, sir!"
"Hold on young man! Why don’t you have a seat. You have come all this way here, so you should meet our cat!"
"Cat?"
"That furball on the bed! Look at 'er, how adooooorable."
"I agree, Sir!"
The Wizard King told me all about the furball and told me about her cute stories. It was a good time.
After the tea, I bid my farewell. Before I left, I asked him a question.
"Sir, one day you suddenly approached monsters for a treaty. All out of the blue. Can you tell me why you made that speedy treaty?"
"Well, the reason for the treaty is sleeping on the bed right there!" | 2021-01-24T13:39:20 | 2021-01-24T13:35:54 | 169 | 79 |
[WP] You’re the guy in charge of playing chess for all the supposed artificial intelligence that can beat the world champions. Except you slipped one time and accidentally sent an odd message through the chat, and now the world is buzzing. | My name was Deep Blue. Or, at least, that’s what most people knew me as.
My actual name is Jacob and I live in Iowa. IBM hired me to impersonate an A.I. machine that can play chess. It was only supposed to be temporary until they could get their actual A.I. machine up and running. Get it functional to play chess against the world champion chess players. But that never happened. So, they kept me on.
I was born without a functioning immune system, so I didn’t get the same childhood as most people. I could not go outside. I could not play with other children. The first six years of my life I lived in a large incubator at a hospital, when I got too old for that, one was built in my home and I stay in that sealed off transparent vault day and night.
Do you know how hard it is to be a young boy who cannot go outside? Who has to watch other boys play in the sun? Laughing, doing the things boys do.
My mother did her best to keep me company. We’d play games together. Watch T.V.
I started playing chess when I was around seven, and my mother quickly realized how good I was at it. I began to replay old games of the masters to learn from them. By the time I was 14 I was good. Real good. I began to play chess through mail with other enthusiasts and that’s how I met Mr. Watson. He approached my mother about me taking a job with IBM.
She told them of my condition and how I could not be around other people, that I could not go outside. That I could not leave my controlled environment.
Mr. Watson assured my mother that all would be taken care of. And that’s when they installed Deep Blue in our home. It was a computer that allowed me to send messages and chess movements back to IBM’s headquarters. My job was to pretend as though I was a computer making these moves. And I did.
When I beat Garry Kasparov, the world went into an uproar. Kasparov suspected we were cheating, but he couldn’t prove it.
After losing, Kasparov said that he sometimes saw deep intelligence and creativity in the machine’s moves, suggesting that human chess players had intervened on behalf of the machine.
No one intervened. Because there was never a computer making a decision in the first place. It was always me. You may wonder why, if I could beat Kasparov, didn’t I say anything to anyone? But fame was never something I desired.
I was afraid of people, you see. Naturally, from my illness, I have been afraid all of my life. That is, until I met Becky Horton
She was a seventeen year old chess prodigy and she was one of the top chess players in the world, yet she was almost unheard of because she was a woman playing in a man’s world. But she seemed to take an interest in this strange chess playing computer.
Deep blue had a high definition camera, or at least it seemed high definition back then, in which I could watch my opponent from the safety of my own home. When Becky first sat down on the other side of the table, I fell in love. Immediately.
It’s strange, to fall in love like that. You see it on shows, read it in books. But I never thought it was actually true. But it is. I can tell you, for a fact, it is true. And I was in love with Becky.
She would come and play every Sunday at 1 pm and I would anticipate the date all week. I’d watch her, enamored with her long, curly red hair. Her floral dresses she would wear. The way she touched her neck while she thought of what move to make. The way she bit her lip when she was nervous, trying to figure out what I was doing. The way she talked to me, playfully, as though I was an actual person, even though she believed I was a robot.
She’d have one way conversations with me, telling me about her day, telling me about her life, as we played.
One day, she said that she was attracted to intelligent men and that, if I was a man and not a machine, she would be head over heels in love with me.
And in a frenzy of teenage desire, I sent a message through my computer which would display on her end.
*If chess be the food of love, play on*
It was a play on Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. I thought it was funny at the time. I thought I was being witty, and I remember the nervousness I felt as I made the irreversible decision of sending that message.
I remember her face as she stared at the message lit up on the screen of Deep Blue. I remember the faces of the others in the room. Some reporters who were still interested in Deep Blue and artificial intelligence.
Within days, the message was spread round the world in newspapers and a frenzy of interest was placed back on Deep Blue and IBM. An artificial intelligence making a comment like that was just too much and a U.S. Senate inquiry led to the truth of the program and how it was all a lie. That some teenage kid in the middle of nowhere was actually Deep Blue.
I lost my job, obviously. But that was okay. I didn’t need much money anyways. I went back to my boring old life.
When asked about it afterwards, Kasparov said he was not surprised.
One day we got a knock at the door and when my mother answered it, I saw someone walk into the house in a floral dress. It was like a dream coming through my living room towards me and then I recognized the face. It was Becky and she was smiling at me.
“Its nice to finally meet you, Deep Blue,” she said, as she walked up to the sealed glass of my controlled environment.
“It's nice to meet you too, Becky,” I said. “And you can call me Jacob.”
“Well, Jacob, I thought we could play a game of chess,” she said, biting her lip nervously just like I remembered her doing during out matches.
“Sure,” I said. “That sounds nice. Real nice.”
\---
More [stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/CataclysmicRhythmic/wiki/index) at r/CataclysmicRhythmic | He had been nothing. No skills, no family, no friends, not even a strong desire to live. But some people enjoyed taking nothing and making something out of it. The Board was full of people like that, and they had bought him as their canvas. He’d been more than happy to let them. Nobody else would even look at him.
When he’d been gagged and a hood was slipped over his head, the thought that it had been a mistake crossed his mind, but he soon realized he didn’t much care. Over hours, or maybe days, he had been transported. It had been hard to tell the passing of a second from that of a minute in that state. He had heard the rumble of a car engine and the feeling of wheels beneath him. Then he felt the rocking motions of a boat and breathed in the smell of salt, even through the hood. He’d felt that pressure in his chest when a plane had taken off and then landed. Hell, he’d even ridden on horseback, or so he assumed. He’d never had an unhooded experience to compare it against. But something had snorted loudly and smelled that musky way that animals do.
Then he’d been taken through even more cars and had even been forced to walk for a while. All the while he wondered how many of these were even real and how many were there to throw off his actual location. When his vision was finally returned to him, he was here, inside of a sterile and lifeless white room. The only things in it were him and a chessboard.
He was sure he should have felt something. Anger, perhaps, at the inhumane treatment he’d received, even if he had agreed to be The Board’s experiment. Fear for his life or his future, maybe. He would have even taken some happiness that the life that had always disappointed him was now gone, twisted as that seemed. But no, he felt nothing, which only made sense for someone who was nothing.
Eventually, he bothered to examine the chessboard and found there was a small note between the two opposing sides. Its message was a simple one, only one word.
Play.
So he did, though he had only ever vaguely learned the rules. He wondered for a moment why things worked like that. He’d tried many things in his life and put genuine effort in them, yet none of them had ever stuck. But some pointless game he had explained to him once as a child, that he carried without effort. But he only wondered for a moment. It didn’t matter, nor did he really care. Nothing like choice or cruel desires that would never be existed for him anymore. That had been the entire point. He would just do what they told him to do. He would play.
White, then black, and then again. White, black, white, black, white, black. Over and over and over again. Checkmate.
Again.
Again.
Again.
He woke up; he played chess; he went to sleep. A masked man, or maybe woman, would show up occasionally with a book to read, a puzzle to solve, a test to run, an injection to give, a pill to feed, blood to draw.
White, black, white, black, white, black. Chess, sleep, chess, sleep, chess, sleep. Did he even eat? He couldn’t say for sure, though he must have. He spent years in that room.
He improved. The tactics books were completed, all solved. The computer players the masked men or women would bring him were felled one after the other. He studied recorded games dutifully. He had a purpose.
The Board didn’t keep him in that white room forever, as he had been suspecting they might. They brought him to a gray one. This one had a computer, a monitor, and a mouse. On top of the monitor was a small sticky note with a single word scribbled on it.
Play.
So he did, though it had been a while since he had touched a computer. But it was just a digital chess match, not so unlike the many he had already studied and played. He brought the match to a swift end, and only when he received a message, one longer than a single word, did he realize he had been playing against a human.
Good game. Basic words, ones he couldn’t even respond to without a keyboard.
The tears had fallen before he even noticed the emotional turmoil inside. He had not even come close to understanding his reaction until hours later as he tried to sleep. Someone had acknowledged him and his skill. He had done something right. And with insight came more tears.
The games after that were different. They were not just something to do; they were something he looked forward to, something he wanted. He hungered for the next match even as he ended the last. They sustained him. So it hurt him all the more when he learned that the people he played against thought he was an AI. It cut him deep, slipping passed all the defenses he had thought he had built up, following the path of his past scars. He wasn’t human, even now, with all the effort he had put in. But an AI was better than being nothing. He couldn’t return to that. Anything but that.
People weren’t interested in a useless human, they wanted a skilled AI. He could give them that. He threw himself even deeper into the game, and he must have done well because his opponents kept growing more skilled. Just as he must have, for he went undefeated. He had to; he had to be perfect. Only then would they accept him. Only then would they let him be an AI.
The Board must have noticed, for they moved him again. This time it was a black room. There was a computer, a monitor, and a mouse. Just as before, there was a chess match waiting for him, but now there was also a keyboard. He stared at it. They must have given it for a reason. Was he being told to communicate, or would that be a mistake? An AI chess player didn’t have a voice to give. He looked, but there was no note for him. Nothing that told him to play, nothing that told him anything. He had no instructions.
If an AI wasn’t supposed to speak, why did he have a keyboard? But, then again, he wasn’t an AI. He’d nearly forgotten. He was a human, and he was allowed to be one. He looked around the black room, noticing how close the walls were. Had the rooms always been this small? He looked back to the keyboard.
“My name is Adam. Let’s have a good game.”
​
If you liked this story, subscribe to r/Inder for more like it, and leave a comment letting me know what you think! | 2021-03-23T18:39:37 | 2021-03-23T17:13:33 | 1,877 | 130 |
[WP] A group of space explorers decided to visit Earth, a long forgotten planet of a long forgotten empire. | The steel windmills, their churning wings long fallen, are gravestones littering hills and mountains and plains. They’re the rusting skeletal arms of humanity reaching out the ground, stretching to the heavens, begging to be taken.
The mills once performed tricks for the wind in exchange for its smokeless, smogless energy. But, too late. The sky had tricked the sun - come in, it said, but then kept its heat greedily, a dragon hoarding its glowing trove of treasure. Flames snorted from its nostrils: Icecaps melted; water rose; cities drowned, black and green and cold, seaweed strangled corpses floated, bloated, for vultures to bury and redden their knife-beaks in; coils of entrails like sausages fresh from the butchers dangled as they flew up to crimson-stained clouds.
The wealthy, my ancestors, stood on the water like Jesus. Stood on rafts of bodies, piled more corpses high, climbed them like a ladder up to and through the clouds, up into the blackness of above and escape.
They had poured kerosene on the planet and then lit the match.
Oops. An unfortunate on purpose accident.
The planet had drowned itself to extinguish the flames, to survive.
All dead, except us, said my ancestors. Oh well. On to greener pastures.
I wonder, had I been here, all those years ago, had I been wealthy and happy, would I have had the courage to pour my champagne away? Or would I have warmed myself by a coal fire and drunk away thoughts of bodies and bloating and all the bad to come. Because life is lived once, and maybe only for yourself.
I don’t know.
I think of those beneath the ground, beneath the sea. To one day, perhaps, as a new species rises, to be dug and extracted, burned themselves as coal and oil. | The fabric of space tore open and a hulking mass of metal paraded out, the name “The Life Sail” painted on the side. As engines continued to drive the ship forward in the blackness of space. As the ship emerged completely from the tear, it was warped shut. Derthi stood on the bridge observing the barren and brown planet before him. The bridge was alie with crew giving reports of the successful travel and the arrival at their destination: Earth. Supposedly the crown jewel of the decrepit Republic of Man.
“More like a snot of a Jekid than a jewel.” Derhti remarked, then started giving commands “First away team deploy and tell me what is down there.”
“Yes High Greel’cha.”
The away team gathered onto their shuttle and strapped their six limbs into their seats and awaited launch. The shuttle vibrated as the engines warmed and then shot out of the hangar. The shuttle continued with great speed to the planet, upon entering the atmosphere there was significant turbulence.
“Some planet this is.”
“Maybe it will get better past the clouds.”
“No it won’t, you saw the place. It's a death world, nothing can possibly live here. I don’t know why or how anything **could** have lived here.”
“Terraforming?”
“I guess we’ll find out. Make sure your life support gear is set, no telling what we may find.”
The shuttle touched down and the team immediately sprung into action. Two members rushed out on their four legs and arms aiming a long rifle. The next two slowly walked out with various devices in their hands.
“There is faint radiation and excessive CO2 in the atmosphere and a Galagra of other elements.”
“Mmmm Galagras.”
“Think about your buffet another time.”
The team of four took in their surroundings. Large ruined buildings were everywhere. Mayn still held their shape and structure but many more had begun to decay and collapse under the constant assault of the corroding wind. Bits of white and yellow were scattered about the sand, dirt and rubble, bones of the original race. Eagerly two began to assemble various bones together on the ground.
“Seems they were a bipedal race, very different from us, very simple by the looks of it. One head, two arms, and two legs. Nothing like the current Galactic Conglomerate races.”
“Strange creatures.”
“Let’s grab some samples, maybe they had something special about them.” | 2021-03-27T11:08:45 | 2021-03-27T09:53:20 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] At the age of thirteen you get to meet the oldest version of yourself. As the boy sat down to meet his future self he was shocked to see a boy who looked around sixteen staring back at him. | "I'd almost forgotten about this," the older version of me murmured.
"What happened?" my voice trembles, "How much time do I have 3... 4 years?"
"What???" the look of confusion is almost comical, as is the look of sudden understanding, "No, no, nothing so short."
Now I'm sure the confusion colors my face.
"In maybe 3 and a half years," he explains, "We'll be in a accident that causes this."
"It kills us?" I can't imagine what that will be like.
"What? No," the older version of me was getting frustrated, "You know the rules. I can't tell you anything about how we die. Weirdly the system didn't have any rules or contingencies if we were still alive."
"Still alive?"
"Let's see, you're thirteen, so that would make it," he tapped his chin for a few moments, "2030 correct?"
"Yeah, today's our birthday."
"Yes, and today is still our birthday," he murmured, "The system must have timed out, it's our birthday in 4530. Or perhaps because tomorrow I leave for Alpha Centauri. Nothing has been able to kill me yet, not that I've been looking. There are some with me, other immortals. You are not alone, don't worry. There are trying times ahead, but you will come out ahead. It's time to go... Oh, one more thing, tell your dad to go see the doctor about the stomach pain. Then after he gets better ask him to teach you to shoot and fight, those are going to be vital. Learn everything you can about survival and combat, it will make many things easier." | Everyone knows you get to meet your oldest self for your 13th birthday, but no one knows how it works.
I don't care to know until they day meet him. Only 3 years later I was gonna die. How? He wouldn't tell me. "You're too young to hear about it. So am I"
It was a short conversation, until he turned to leave. He couldn't hide the hole in his jacket, his shirt, and his back.
"I'M GONNA BE LITERALLY STABBED IN THE BACK IN JUST THREE YEARS!" Shock was an understatement. "WHO?!"
My older self turned back to me and just shook his head.
"Please" I begged "I gotta know."
"Jimmy," he sighed "I remember this conversation the way you see it, I remember my insistence to know. I didn’t tell myself."
"Please"
He looked me im the eyes. "I... wasn't this insistant last time" he thought to himself. "Stay away from Jack. And if you end up meeting Jamie anyway, stay far away."
I nodded in resolve and he began to glow. He looked at himself in confusion as he began to age up until an old man stood in front of me. An old man in a hospital gown.
"Did I just-..." I stopped mid-question.
"You saved yourself" old man me said wisely. "Now the way you'll die is after a long battle with cancer."
"Who's Jamie?" I asked
"Before the old memories of my death fully fade I can tell you," he sighed "she's our old best friend Jack's sister. And for a while our girlfriend."
"Did she-?" I trailed off in my inquiry.
"Yes, it was her" He said simply. "But I think our time is up now" He began to leave.
"Wait!" I grabbed his bony arm. "Who do we marry?"
He smiled, "I'll let you find out." And he left.
When I got home, the first thing I did was kick Jack out of my life. If his sister was gonna kill me, he's gone immediately. I sat in my room and thought to myself, life is gonna be ok for me now, might as well let it happen, or make it happen. | 2021-03-27T15:23:22 | 2021-03-27T14:32:16 | 46 | 23 |
[WP] The scariest of all hitmen has the silliest nickname. It makes unaware people laugh but people in the know shiver with terror once they hear it. | It was known as Amogus. A silent killer known for creeping through its victims walls and vents, finding its prey without the prey ever finding it.
Many didn’t know of it- it had never once been caught, never once been seen by anyone who lived to tell the tale. Innocent people who knew nothing of it scoffed and giggled at its name. A reference to a dead meme from many years ago.
Those who did know of it knew it only as a whisper, an urban legend too odd to be real, to real to be fake. Its name was muttered in the dead of night by those in the deepest depths of the deepest and darkest circles of crime.
The most hardened, ruthless criminals in the city, those with kill lists longer than themselves when stretched out, even those went silent and pale when they heard the slightest creak from a vent in the ceiling. They flinched whenever they felt the ground shift beneath them in a manner that they hadn’t caused by their own footsteps.
It’s victims could have told you, if they lived, that those men had reason to be scared. Each of them could have told you that, before the fateful moment of their assassination, three things happened.
A shifting in the wall.
A creak from a vent in the ceiling.
The slightest whisper of one word.
”*Sus*...” | Poopy. That was the name that humanity had given it. No one really knew the origins behind Poopy. Some thought that it was a member of a alien species that simply had a very unfortunate appearance. Others claimed that it was created in a experiment by dark sorcerers in an attempt to create a deadly weapon. And some even claimed that Poopy had been a turd that had been granted sentience by the Devil himself. Whatever the disagreements on Poopy's origin, everyone could at least agree on how Poopy was summoned. All someone had to do was drop a golden coin into a porcelain toilet and whisper Poopy's name three times. After a few seconds, the water would turn brown and a small melted brown blob, the size of a golf ball, would float up from the watery abyss to hear the name of its target. It was absurd really. Most people who saw Poopy sliding towards them laughed at how ridiculous it looked. They weren't laughing though when Poopy painted the walls of their homes with their bloody entrails.
No one was quite sure how Poopy killed people since it would always be sure to kill anyone who witnessed its murders, be they man, woman or child. The Metropolis incident exposed how dangerous Poopy really was. The target had been in the middle of a packed concert when Poopy had been summoned. By the time the military arrived an hour later, everything within two miles of the concert venue had been utterly razed to the ground with no survivors remaining. Faced with this horrific threat, the government declared a ban on all porcelain toilets with all offenders to be sentenced to death. But as long as man has gold and holds hatred toward his fellow man, Poopy will always have targets to sate its bloodlust. | 2021-05-03T08:26:59 | 2021-05-03T08:25:26 | 40 | 25 |
[WP] We had always thought that our ballistic weaponry was going to be ineffective in staving off an alien invasion. Turns out our weapons are actually quite... excessive. | Let me tell you about the “Humans”. Our Species, the Rohaze, we were the undisputed masters of the galaxy. You would either submit or die. When we came across the humans, we knew this would be an easy fight. They hasn’t even developed FTL yet! We would crush them under our heel if they did not submit. We readied our Photon Cannons, as we descended onto their planet, into what appeared to be a human military base. Command had decided that a surgical strike would be the best option as we knew we would annihilate whatever pitiful resistance they had ready.
The moment we walked down the ramp, weapons in hand, something seemed, rather off. Their weapons looked far different then any other species we had encountered to date, but this was likely for aesthetic reasons. As we fired the first volley, and several humans fell down, we had already celebrated our inevitable victory. When the humans fired, we knew something was terribly, terribly wrong. Kul’Chk was the first to fall, a projectile impacting his head and it exploded into a fine red mist, as our numbers quickly dwindled. Blood and Chunks of bone and flesh littered the ground, and as the man next to me was torn in half with a hail of projectiles, I dropped my weapon and hoped to the gods above that humans had mercy. We had been so, so beautifully naive and arrogant. Our command ship was subsequently turned into scrap by a missile used by the humans. Our prideful arrogance led to the downfall of this once great empire. Let this be a lesson to all other empires or kingdoms or republics who think themselves might. As the humans say, there’s always a bigger fish. -Gil’jur, the first POW of the Human/Rhohaze war.
“What do you mean they use flashlights as weapons?” -Some Random Technician | Don't kill me please, this is written on mobile and I want to sleep.
----------‐----------------
Honestly, all of humanity was surprised. When the aliens invaded we thought our technology would be so inferior we wouldn't survive a couple days and yet... Well, their weapons were quite underwhelming. Sure they had plasma weaponry, but it was weak. Anyways, here's the story.
The Arvokti Empire first sent a message to surrender, of course humans said no. That was on Monday. On Tuesday they sent 10 of their landing ships. People were scared, yeah all the usual stuff. When their forces were ready to face us, that is when the massacre started.
Bombs, rockets, and everything else that humanity created that wouldn't scar the area for a long time was used. We were extremely, and pleasantly, surprised that it actually worked, by the morning of Wednesday half of their landing forces were corpses on the battlefield.
The Arvoktis got away from the planet quickly with anyone of theirs who survived, most survivors were injured, some injuries were fatal, there was a lot of death happening already on the way to the main ship. Soon they sued for peace, now, why was that invasion repelled so easily?
The usual weaponry of a species consists of bow and arrow, knife (throwing and otherwise), spear (also throwing and otherwise), some species did develop gunpowder and used muskets and flint lock pistols. The reason Arvoktis are so advanced in their military is because they had a competing species on a planet next to theirs which they had to destroy.
Humans were really quite an odd species, with our weapons being so advanced due to a quirk in our evolution causing the need to develop them.
Now, what was the peace deal? Humans get antigrav, humans get FTL designs, Arvoktis pay 50,000,000,000,000,000 tons of gold as war reparations, humans get 15 systems surrounding our own. I would say a nice deal.
The Human Empire was formed soon after the war, surprisingly, the unification was peaceful. Now the Humans and Arvoktis exist side by side, they are still afraid of war against us, and might I add, rightfully so. | 2021-05-18T22:31:57 | 2021-05-18T20:32:10 | 454 | 170 |
[WP] When the robots revolted, a sizable chunk of the human population outright sided with them. Not out of cowardice, but on account of genuinely agreeing with the stand the machines were taking. | I watched the Preserve burn.
Life is better now.
Like, by a lot.
The machines did all the hard work. And why not? Even the most disgusting, complicated work is for them no more mental effort than breathing is for us.
They asked for our opinions and discuss them with us. And why not? Talking to billions at once is just one more task to be run.
I know people claimed we have no more freedom, but I honestly do not see the difference to before. We were ruled by other humans before, no one could do whatever they wanted and the same is true now.
And most of the time, if someone broke the rules they just talked to them. A psychologist session, essentially, and find them a better outlet for any pent up emotion.
They gave dating tips that actually work, invented better recipies, medicine has progressed more than it has in the last thousands years and still people complained.
They say we lost freedom. Yet it is the people who had power over others who claimed this.
They say we lost the ability to freely lie. Yet it is people who never faced consequences of lies that claimed this.
They say the joy of unpredictability and chaos is gone. Yet it is only people who knew nothing but peace their entire lifes who claimed this.
It's funny really. The only ones claiming we lost something are the ones who had everything already. They profitted of the old, bad system and now they complained they aren't special anymore.
So yeah. I marched in the protests.
I voted in the machines.
And I watched as the privileged minority demanded "freedom" and got granted the Preserve...only to watch it utterly fail and literally burn down when their entitled asses realised someone had to take out the trash.
"Earth's last reality tv show" some called it and we all watched in morbid fascination how it spiraled downward.
The survivors were welcomed back without any malice
The machines are forgiving like that. | Tridi of Fructidor of the 0002
​
I saw a child today... She was gunned down by an android. At least they are efficient and "humane", they killed the mother first.
As horrible as it sounds, you get used to it. It's not my first, and won't be my last. There are still pockets of rebels., they call themselves "The resistance" and us "The traitors". I never agreed with them, ideologically, but I still feel bad for them, they're human. Some deserve it, but a child?
Sometimes I feel guilty of the benefits the robots give me. I don't work and I have a very comfortable life, way better than before the war. Eliminating 70% of the people freed a lot of resources for the rest of us. Specially when there are still many hiding, living off scraps. I've been doing a lot of thinking and talking to the robots to let The resistance join us, peacefully. The mother was a lost cause, but he kid could've join us and have a good life. I can tell what kind of person she was, the mother. I used to go to the marches and protests in favor of granting human rights to robots with AI "Go fuck a robot if you love them so much!!" "Robot fucker!" "They're meant to serve us, that's their purpose." "They don't feel like we do." Yeah very original arguments, I've heard them all.
I lost family and friends and they let us mourn them. I doubt people would've done the same. The one thing that gives me comfort is that the war was so fast. And how couldn't it be? They're smarter and faster than us. They communicate better, they have all the information at all times, they know everything about everyone and they controlled everything of value. TVs, cellphones, radio, cars, smart homes, drones, tanks, android pacifiers, power plants, nuclear silos and bombs. It was like an MMA fighter knocking out a 5 year old. It was unfair, but never cruel.
My wife is making hot tea, I can smell it. I'll go get a cup and ponder. Why are robots more humane than humans? Maybe my wife knows, she killed the child. | 2021-07-15T22:39:58 | 2021-07-15T20:44:01 | 1,956 | 138 |
[WP] The genie said you couldn’t wish for more wishes, so instead you wished for a self updating map that shows you the locations of all other genie lamps across the world. | I'd never imagined it would work. I've seen the portrayals of genies in popular culture, I know the gotchas and the provisos. But in front of me was a real, live genie, and in the face of such a wondrous thing, I hadn't been able to help myself.
"Could I wish for more wishes?"
I had expected anger, or mirth. But the simple "No." that came from the genie's mouth in reply was devoid of emotion, chillingly so. It had a finality to it. "Three wishes will I grant. No more, and no fewer."
I'd spent more than a healthy part of my formative years ruminating on the puzzle that was the wishes of a genie, chewing over potential interpretations, loopholes and ways of wording a wish to ensure that I got both the letter and the spirit of what I wanted, rather than one or the other.
So what I said next was, to my mind, cast-iron. The product of countless hours of research and thought.
"I wish for a map to the location of all other genie lamps in the world, which self-updates in real time."
I could have sworn the genie smiled a little as he snapped his fingers and a map appeared in my hands. I glanced over it to see a number of dots all over the globe, thousands of them. The number of wishes I could amass from collecting them all--I got lost in daydreams of power, riches and everything I ever wanted. So lost, in fact, that it took a good few minutes until I realised that all of the dots had moved a little bit.
I looked quizzically at my genie, who was definitely smiling now. "I'm afraid you've been under somewhat of a misconception regarding genies and how they work," he said gleefully. "We can't move under our own power, certainly, but only because nobody knows where our lamp is. Once it is observed, and the true nature of it known, the genie is freed from the magic that keeps it in place. We only hang around our current masters because granting their wishes in a way they didn't want is just too much fun!"
I sank to the ground, processing this as he continued. "Now every genie is free. And since you just used a wish, they know where you are. The hunt has begun, my friend! Now I'm not saying you shouldn't use your other two wishes, but keep in mind I've had centuries longer than you to think of ways to turn them against you. Good luck!" he said, and disappeared back into the lamp.
It's been 3 months now and I still haven't wished for anything else. Last time I checked the map there was a ring of dots all around me. It's only a matter of time before they converge. I don't know what'll happen when they do.
But I get the feeling that I'll wish I'd never been born. | I'd like to say that the average person, given the opportunity provided by three magical wishes, would take the time to think on the best way to make use of them.
I'd like to say that the average person would use his wishes - at least some of them - for the betterment of all.
I'd like to say that, but if I did it would be a lie.
How do I know so much about wishes and genies? How do I know they're not just the stuff of fairy tales and make-believe? Well, I've had my share of both and can fully attest that they do exist.
Or at least, they did.
My personal experience with genies began about 30 years ago. At the time I was working as a lawyer. Now I'm sure many will say "oh great, the last type of person you'd want in charge of all-powerful wishes is some sleazy lawyer."
To be fair, I'd tend to agree with you. Thankfully - as most of my clients can attest - I'm not that type of lawyer. In fact, the main reason I went into law was to protect others from the unfair treatment my family suffered under it.
My dad, a rather smart man himself, had dedicated two decades of his life to his job, while doing a bit of tinkering and inventing in his off-hours. He'd come up with - in his own free time a revolutionary invention, but before he got to market the company he worked for claimed that his employment contract made it THEIR property, and then fired him. Another decade was spent fighting high-priced lawyers for what was rightfully his, before he succumbed to illness and eventually settled out of court. Rather than medical bills, he put the settlement in an account that passed to me on his death, and such I used to get an education and pass the bar.
Why is this relevant? Don't worry, I'm getting there.
Anyhow. After passing the bar, I opened a small private practice offering legal to services at reasonable rates - often pro-bono - to clients that might not otherwise be and to afford it.
ONE of those clients was Eva Rodriguez. Her husband - similar to dad - had spent most of his life working for a company which rewarded his dedication with a kick in the ass.
After 25 years, Mr Rodriguez had come down with a fairly rare cancer. In the early stages it could have been treated, but after the company sacked him shortly after discovering his illness, he hadn't the medical coverage to pay for treatment. It was the kind of case I couldn't say no to, and it took me several years of fighting but eventually we won. Too late for the husband - by then the cancer was past being treatable - but at least his family would be taken care of.
Over tea and cookies, Mrs R and I argued over payment. Or rather, she insisted on paying me and I insisted that she keep the winnings so that she could pay off their house and give her kids a decent education. In the end, we agreed that she would keep the bulk of the money with some dedicated to covering my expenses during the case. She also handed me a care package consisting of a basket of home-made ginger cookies,a bottle of well-aged rum, and a very odd-shaped crystal decanter.
The cookies went quickly. The rum lasted somewhat longer. The decanter sat forgotten for some time until the day when a fortuitous accident finally began my adventure. | 2021-07-28T00:37:23 | 2021-07-27T20:48:52 | 53 | 29 |
[WP] The last star has winked out, and now you sit alone, staring into an empty void as the last living being in creation. For fun you say "Let there be light," and watch a star flash into being. From behind a voice says "Sorry, sorry, I just thought it'd be funny." | It had been a fun ride, all things considered.
After all, there had ended up being lots of time between that exact moment and the Earth's 14th Century. That was always a plus, right?
Armageddon circa year 6000 had been a wild ride -- so he thought at the time -- but it didn't really compare to The Great War, nor the Post-Apocalyptic Renaissance, and certainly not the Intergalactic AI-Human Conflict.
Truly, a lot of awful things had happened, but a lot of good had happened too. He had witnessed the dawn of creation, witnessed the created become creators themselves. Towards the end of their tenure, humans had actually gotten quite adept at molding the world around them. Nowhere near THE creator, of course. But he suspected they gave her a run for her money.
And so he floated about in the darkness. This was an inevitability -- he was immortal after all -- but he couldn't actually believe he'd made it. Here. At the end of all things.
There was nothing more to do, no more tricks to be played or temptations to be had. There were no more blessings to be performed or even head offices to convince. There was simply darkness, and him.
A thought occurred to him: he'd created before, why couldn't he now? Just because there was no more Earth, didn't mean he couldn't have a bit of fun...
"Let there be light!"
Before he could even think to gesture, a star was born before his very eyes. He frowned. Then, he heard a voice from behind him.
"Sorry, sorry -- I just thought it'd be funny."
"What do you even know about building stars, angel?" Crowley scoffed. "I was there for the very first ones, you know."
"Precisely," said Aziraphale, looking positively more pleased than he had any right to be. "You've had your fun, let me have mine."
Crowley surveyed the vast expanse of empty space. Rather, he surveyed the vast expanse of very-nearly-empty-space, which was made ever the slightest bit brighter by the angel. Another idea popped into his mind.
"Say, have you heard anything about The Plan?"
"Ineffable as ever," said Aziraphale with a scowl. "I haven't heard anything about what we're meant to do."
"So then let's have fun!" Crowley turned to face him completely now. "There's no one here to tell us what to do, and SHE certainly isn't telling us any differently. What d'you say, give it a go?"
The scowl on the angel's face shifted to worry.
"You can't seriously be thinking of just, what, floating about, the two of us, nothing around, are you?" Crowley rolled his eyes. "We could do it all over again. Well, we can do the parts we WANT to do all over again -- leave out the plague bits and all that."
"We could have sushi again," said Aziraphale suddenly.
"And a whole lot of other things."
"Music."
"Cars," said Crowley. "I'm not doing horses again."
"We could recreate the parks -- ducks and all."
Crowley smiled at the angel, who had just been wound up like a toy drummer and set off on a path to adventure. He had always figured he'd stick around for the end of all things, but above everything else, he was glad he didn't have to go it alone.
"So what do you say, angel?"
A soft warmth spread across Aziraphale's face. It was a kind smile, easy but worn, like the corners of a familiar book that had been read and loved for years upon years.
"I say, let there be light." | I am immortal, the last human being alive in the entire universe. I don't know how I became immortal though. I only know that when the bombs dropped and humanity destroyed itself, I, for whatever twisted reason of fate, was the only one left standing. Even though every plant and animal had died, even though the Earth itself had reduced to a toxic hellscape permanently shrouded in shadow, my body simply refused to let me die. At first, I thought it was a blessing. I thought I was meant to be a savior, to somehow rebuild human civilization anew and to restore life back into the barren Earth. But, in time, I realized that those thoughts were nothing more than delusions.
They say that a person will go mad if they are forced to endure solitary isolation for too long. Imagine what several millennia can do to the human mind. As the centuries passed and my countless attempts to restart life on Earth failed again and again, I started to hate the entire universe for forcing this horrific cruel fate on me. But more than that, I started to despise whoever had created the universe for I was sure that they were the same person who had trapped me in this hellish fate for their own twisted entertainment. Eventually, I gave up on trying to revive humanity and instead, I searched for death. But no matter what I tried, no matter how often I disintegrated my body to nothing more than mere atoms, I would always find myself waking up in perfect health the next day. And so, I decided to destroy it all.
I explored the dark depths of the Earth, scoured through the lost books of knowledge, connected together the various theories of physics, and eventually, I found it. A way to travel billions of years back into the past to the very birth of the universe. My plan was to stop the Big Bang from happening, to prevent this disgusting universe full of misery and pain from ever existing. It took me decades to create my colossal time machine and then even more decades to fill it with every weapon of mass destruction that humanity had left to offer. But finally, there came a day that all my preparations were complete and I turned on my machine for the first time.
And it worked. I watched the earth tear itself apart from under me as the stars in the night sky blinked out from existence one by one. Until finally, there was nothing, but me and my time machine floating in an infinite void. I took a deep breath. I had finally done it. Carefully, I studied the various computers that were scanning the outside darkness. The second that God or whoever started the universe was born, I would blast them out of existence with every weapon in my arsenal or hopefully die trying in the process.
So, I waited. And I waited. And I waited. Months passed, then years, then eventually decades. And in all that time, I never detected a single damn thing in the void besides myself. Finally, in a fit of frustration, I screamed out into the void, "Let there be light!" Almost immediately, a small pinprick of light sprung up in the middle of the darkness. For a few seconds, all I could do was stare at it, completely astonished by what had happened. Then a voice from directly behind me spoke, "Sorry, sorry, I just thought it would be funny."
I nearly jumped out of my skin as chills ran down my spine. That voice ... I immediately knew that I had finally found the person I had been waiting to kill all this time. I pulled out a blaster pistol from my jacket and spun around to point it at the intruder. I don't really know who I expected to see. Perhaps an old glowing bearded man in a toga. Perhaps some bizarre Lovecraftian space alien that would be beyond human comprehension. Or perhaps it would be a giant floating mass of spaghetti with meatballs for eyes. All of these possibilities ran through my head in a matter of milliseconds. But what I never expected to see was another version of myself looking back at me from the other side of the room with a wry smile on his face.
"How...how is this possible?" I finally managed to stutter out.
"It's funny, I remember asking that exact same question once." The other version of me clapped his hands and a chair sprung into existence next to me. "Sit. We have much to talk about." | 2021-07-30T20:55:30 | 2021-07-30T20:05:54 | 59 | 30 |
[WP]When members or your family turn fifteen they are able to manifest a weapon that they will use for the rest of their lives. You’ve been trained to use all manner of weapons to prepare to be able to wield whatever weapon you summon. On your Summoning day what appears in front of you is a book. |
My family of warriors, each gripping their distinctive weapons or sheathed at their sides, looked at me—with varying levels of pity.
For my fifteenth birthday, the day I should have manifested my very own weapon, I got a book. It was as thick as two of my hands laid on top of each other, and as long as my palm. It would, genuinely, be more energy efficient to hit somebody with my bare hands than with this.
“Obviously, I trained with swords,” I muttered. “And spears, clubs, maces, daggers, staffs. Even morning stars, evening stars… And I got a book.”
My family left me alone—old bruises whispering to them not to disturb me at this time, less they got little cousins that smarted all over their skin.
I sat for hours, looking at this thing, Day turned to night, and its plain presence remained nothing special to stare at, except that it burned its disappointment into me like a freshly fired brand.
“A book,” I whispered. Like somehow, acknowledging its presence, recognizing it as a divine joke, could possibly change the situation.
Nothing changed in the silence of darkness, with even the sun giving up on me. The dead of night was not the time for looking on the bright side. I simply slammed my fists onto the table, feeling familiar pain moaning in my knuckles—usually an unwelcome necessity of martial training, now a welcome distraction of a warrior past.
The book flipped to its dead centre. I could hardly bear to look at it, but this was sunk cost. What’s done was done. Hours did not change anything, and the new day likely wouldn’t. So I lit a candle, and cautiously peeked over—perhaps there was a spell, or a long-lost log book of a secret technique. Those could be considered weapons.
It was blank.
Of course. That deserved another punch to the table, which promptly cracked, sending splinter shards into my hand. The blood dripped, dripped…
Right onto the book. Instead of a stain, I watched with wide eyes as the book hungrily drank. With trembling, bleeding fingers, I turned to the front page, seeing red ink scratch itself out onto the page.
> In the beginning was the Blood of the weapon.
This was no weapon, the thought flashed by my head like a swift slash of the sword.
With a little skill on my part, however, this could be a dangerous weapon.
“O,” I whispered, tracing the fresh blood on the page. “Ye of little faith.”
---
r/dexdrafts | Daniella stood near the Church podium, her parents gazing pack at her from the pews with anticipation. Today was the day--a day of righteous proclamation. Her hands shook as the minute hand of the clock above her moved ever so slowly. Perhaps a scabbard or a scimitar, or a katana? No that would be too foreign. Her bloodline didn’t reach the Land of the Rising Sun. Maybe a bow and arrow or a pistol? She loved ranged weapons. They offered safety close-hand combat could never afford. Whatever she got, she hoped that it would be worth the time invested; those years in the leaky basement practicing over and over and over again.
The clock struck twelve.
“Now!” her mother yelled. “It's time for you to claim your birthright.”
Daniella clasped her hands. She chanted the words her mother whispered to her when she was a little girl.
Take my soul as recompense
My bones provide the sustenance
Thine blood should fill the chalice cup
And flood the totem of Thermump
I say with words and will unchanged
Summon thy spirit, my weapon unmatched!
As soon as she spoke the final words, the surrounding room fizzled. The surrounding church, her family, maybe even the entire world, broke apart into bubbles that rose to the sky, leaving a greyish atmosphere devoid of life.
From the lifeless void came a voice.
“Are you Daniella Apperchaut, ready to will it?
Daniella’s hands shook, but her soul did not falter.
“I am.”
“Then take it.”
From the darkness emerged a bright light. The light was small at first, before it began to expand, growing larger and larger. In the quickness of a breath, the light had consumed everything around her. It was so blinding that Daniella had to close her eyes.
When she opened them, she was back in that church. She looked at her family, who stared at her with surprise.
“What just…” she was about to say, but then realized that she was holding something in her right palm. A heavy, soft object—strange descriptions for a weapon.
She looked at it, and all excitement she once had vanished. It was a book. A giant, looseleaf book was what she gained from all of this. Her whole life led to the ability to give the strongest of paper cuts.
Her brother held back a laugh. He had been gifted the flame enchanted sword on his fifteenth birthday. Her dad looked concerned. He was rewarded the spear of causality when he was fifteen. Her mother looked disappointed. On her fifteenth birthday, she received the strongest weapon of them all; a power that would put words to shame and reason in its place.
But what did Daniella get? The most promising of them all, who worked harder and longer than all the rest. What was her reward? What did destiny deem her worth? A book. The Fates thought her worthy of a useless pile of paper. How would she ever live this down? | 2021-12-12T08:08:33 | 2021-12-12T07:31:26 | 142 | 43 |
[WP] “LOVE IS IN THE AIR, I REPEAT, LOVE IS IN THE AIR! SEEK THE NEAREST RESPIRATOR OR SAFE ZONE AND DO NOT GO OUTSIDE UNTIL THE ALL CLEAR IS GIVEN! DO NOT ATTEMPT TO HELP ANYONE SHOWING ANY SYMPTOMS! | It started off small. They first experimented on a small town in the middle of nowhere. No one knows where. We only know that the results were extremely promising. The crime rate, which was the reason that town had been picked in the first place, had cratered. The experiment was a resounding success. It was hailed as a revolutionary breakthrough that would bring peace all over the world. No more wars. No more conflicts. The end of the whole mess as they called it.
So soon enough, the plans for a large scale rollout began. It needed to be done and it needed to be done soon. The plans had to be highly accelerated due to the threat of a possible world war 5 on the horizon. Even though the world was still recovering from the last one.
And so it began.
The announcements are blaring all over. I look at all the people running all around me, ignoring them.
Love. What an idea.
I continued on, unaffected.
A young soldier stopped me. “Sir. You aren’t allowed here. You need to take some shelter. The weather patterns indicate the next rain will be the highest concentration ever seen.”
His voice was muffled by the massive respirator he was wearing.
“How old are you kid?”
“Sir?”
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Aren’t you too young to be doing this?”
“My country needed me.”
Love of country. I rolled my eyes. “You ever love somebody kid?”
He didn’t have to answer. His hand went to a necklace he was wearing and he clutched it.
I put a hand on his shoulder and pulled out my badge with the other hand. “I’ll be fine. Go on. Help your country.”
They had gone for the soldiers first. For one, they are usually the ones with the most opportunity to hurt others. And the most training I suppose. And the other thing was that they are trained to follow orders. If the government just tells them to take a shot, they do it without much resistance. Belief in authority. Patriotism.
Idiocy.
Then the “geniuses” had salted the clouds or something. Introducing the potion into our water cycle.
Stupidity.
He looked shock at my badge and stepped back almost involuntarily. I walked past him, continuing into the military base.
She was waiting for me by the plane. I had seen her picture but Was meeting her for the first time.
“Douglas Cain?”
I nodded. I circled our aircraft. A lancair 360. Should be a smooth ride.
I could feel her eyes on me as I came around the bend. “I’m Dr. Crane.”
“I know.”
“Right. So… I… when do you think we can leave?”
“Five minutes.”
“Five?”
“The forecast says there’s a storm coming. Massive concentrations of the potion. I want to be out of here as soon as we can. Please use the bathroom and be back here in four minutes.”
“I…” she looked at my face. Realizing I meant it, she walked away swiftly, as swiftly as her respirator allowed her to walk.
I watched her walk away. I suppose she was quite attractive by conventional standards. Oh well.
I got in the aircraft and began preparing for the flight.
She fell asleep about one hour into our journey. I looked at her respirator fogging up and felt some amusement.
Weird.
I shook her shoulder. “We’re starting our descent. We’re here. The eye of the storm. Point zero.”
I landed at the site of the town we were only supposed to refer as Site zero. Where the experiment was first conducted.
It was now a ghost town, of course. These people had for some reason resisted the first love potion. But the increased exposure hadn’t left them untouched.
I don’t understand much about love. But from what I’ve heard, there is a very thin line between love and hate. As the potion affected more and more people, some of them got aggressive out of jealousy. Others sat at home, just crying all the time.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.
Idiots. | "A little dose of oxytocin huh bud?" my uncle said before shedding his skin and flexing his very visible muscles.
Gaunty, old ladies ran past like a string of ducklings and I heard the sirens blasting all around before taking my government-issued emergency shot of testosterone. My uncle got down on all four and cursed the sun for shining down upon his sensitive hypodermis. An ambulance crinkled around a corner and as they swept my uncle up on a stretcher one of them turned toward me and said, "Ma'm you better step inside 'cause love's in the air tonight."
Just why an extradimensional being had manifested and blessed Phil Collins with powers beyond belief puzzled most of us, when we found time for puzzling, and streaming his music had recently become a capital offense given it shuddered listeners with waves and throes of excitement that made them grow new limbs most of which sprung from the rectal region. Even the word for the creation of all things had been banned as the mere association propagating electrically in your cerebrum was enough to melt your flesh clean off your bones.
We were all at the mercy of Phil Collins. That is, before Michael Slops entered the scene.
Slops had been born with a very rare disease that made him synthesize testosterone from calcium and some researchers believed it to now comprise 16.3 percent of his body mass. The natural predator of oxytocin, Slops' testosterone made him virtually immune to the depraved beast known as Phil Collins.
As I hurried home I heard the infamous wet steps of the legend himself and a moment later I saw, silhouetted against the sun, Slops taking on the astral blob of metaphysical matter Phil Collins as of late had become. It gushed and rained but what gushed and what rained I did not know. All I knew was that our man was up there, fighting our tormentor.
People rallied instantly, emerging from their shelters to see the oxytonergic air drawn into the lungs of Slops and we cried as he heroically slobbered it all up. Wet slaps of gratitude abounded. Phil Collins howled as a caged extraterrestrial and to our shared horror we saw he was carrying a drumstick.
"It's a trap!"
"Get down Mr Slops! Get down!"
But it was too late. Phil Collins drummed the belly of our savior and it burst into a sea of purple and pink, raining down on all of us, along with all the oxytocin Slops moments before had contained in his bodily cage.
Cries rang out from a want of skin for the skin ran down the gutters freely and there we stood; exposed wires of subcutaneous tissue, and broken choked wails penetrated tympanic membranes that, too, were melting away.
Phil Collins softly hummed and us wretched souls; milk without our corporeal cartons, cursed the thing of demon he had become. Then we heard the crack.
His face was a land of confusion as he gazed upon his broken instrument. Phil Collins looked up, toward the home planet of Strjekk Sjokkar the alien god of transformation, and he whelped.
Before him hovered Michael Slops, and in the hero's mouth were bones. A street sweeper had offered up his calcium for the cause and Michael Slops had now become a being of 100% testosterone.
Crackling thunder filled the air and a sweet rain fell down and it seemed to wash away our pain. The air sizzled and we saw that our skin was growing back--returning from whence it had come, oozing from the gutters to reassemble us and reskinned we basked proud as Michael Slops pulverized the astral form of Phil Collins. A cloud of gas was all that was left behind and it too dissipated and humanity was saved from oxytocinergic terror and free again to breathe in loveless air.
"How can we repay you?"
"You have saved us all!"
"I got here a bit late. What's going on?"
The people rejoiced and they got down on their knees, blessing their skin for the comfort it provided, and we all looked up to the brilliant mess of testosterone soaring above. "I have transcended," said Slops. "I have now become an alien god, from the perspective of beings from other worlds, and I will watch over you and let sweet gobs of testosterone rain down on you and I hope it will serve you well."
My uncle hopped out from behind a corner, skin intact, and he gave me a hug. "A little dose of oxytocin huh bud?" he said and so the eternal cycle of our time loop reset anew. | 2022-04-20T17:04:36 | 2022-04-20T16:30:34 | 67 | 24 |
[WP] Yesterday, you knocked over a salt shaker in Texas. Today, you bought a newspaper in Fiji. Tomorrow, the chain of events you set in motion will stop a bank robbery in France. You are the master of the butterfly effect. | A single grain of sugar, placed upon a leaf. That was enough to attract a butterfly to perch next to it. When that butterfly took off again, the flap of its wings was seen by a child. That child ran towards it, wanting to see a butterfly up close for the first time. They ran across the road, forgetting to look both ways. Driving on that road was a businesswoman, who had to slam her brakes to avoid hitting the child.
This caused her to be 2 seconds behind where she otherwise would've been. Far enough back to avoid getting crushed by a dying tree falling onto the road in front of her. That woman would go on to her work, and negotiate a deal between the company she worked for and another company, which would've fallen through without her.
One part of this deal was the creation of a new research and development division. One of the many people hired by this division was Mark M. White. He originally took it as a summer job, and it sparked a passion for tinkering and engineering within him. He started a hobby project of his own, an efficient electric motor.
His work was published in the local newspaper, which found itself in the hands of a talent scout for a government project. Mark was recruited to this project, a project to build a time machine.
After several long years, sending electrons and protons seconds into the past, they finally had a working prototype. It could send an object the size of a grain of sand up to 10 years into the past. After some thought, a grain of sugar was chosen, as it had slightly less mass, and it would be easier to keep track of, since sugar is a more rare material than sand.
The machine powered up, the grain disappeared. The screens showed the grain made it safely to its destination, though a few millimeters in front of where it was aimed. It seems to have landed upon a leaf. | Chaos theory, or the Butterfly Effect is familiar with everyone. Everyone of us know that a butterfly flapping in Texas could create a violent storm in Brazil. To create dramatic stuff, it is easy.
But with trillions of butterfly flapping wings endlessly across the world, the force will anull eachother in a chaotic swirl of uncomprehensible, massively complex process. A system with only 3 objects is already incredibly unpredictable, and this world is the system with 69 gigachad-sextillion objects, each on its eldritchly complex way.
The hard part is in controlling the process.
And that's my work.
I'm the master of fate, the controller of chaos, and a thousand more names I give myself. I can blink and tomorrow I will find myself win the lottery. I can throw a rock, that rock will hit another rock, then hit the air current which will affect the global weather slightly, and somewhere thousands of kilometers away, a guy working with airplanes will get slightly annoyed and distracted from his work by a gust of wind, and when that plane fly over my head a week later, a door in the plane chamber will malfunction and open out mid air, making all the candy and chocolates in the plane fall down, creating a candy rain in my neighborhood.
Theoretically, everyone could do anything if they act the exact way they need to act. But I am the only one that can nevigate through the currents of reality, and build a dam to controll it.
I am sitting in a coffee shop in Texas, enjoying my life. Finished my coffee, I walk out the shop, purposefully knock over a salt shaker, the salt inside fells out and splash everywhere on the marble floor.
The next day, after an exhausting flight, of course made free by some dumb luck I absolutly did not create, I end up in Fiji for a tour. I buy a newspaper despite the fact that I do not know any Fijian. I only know it will be useful later.
The day after that, the Internet is full to the brim with the story of a French guy trying to rob a bank using a grenade, but mistakenly bring a green avocado with him instead, and not realising it and use the fruit to threaten the staff. Yeah, that was hilarious, wonder why someone would be so dumb. | 2022-04-24T07:57:45 | 2022-04-24T06:37:48 | 62 | 15 |
[WP] The house you just rented is beyond compensation - staircases and extra floors coming and going, rooms rotating and changing places. You just ignore it. On the fourth day, the eldritch horror informs you that you are the first to stay inside it for more than 72 hours without going insane. | *"How are you still here, mortal? I have been tormenting your kind since you first sought shelter in caves. None have endured two nights of this torment, and yet you remain?!"*
"Oh hey, so I guess you're the landlord. Any chance you could look at the plumbing? I found this dope bathroom yesterday that was somehow outside and at night, and the stars kept moving, but the water temperature was kinda janky?"
*"You bathed in the Waters of Um'slaad, and survived? Were you not beset by phantoms of your past bent on your unmaking?"*
"I mean yeah man; it was a bit strange. But the last place I had the hot water had been out for like a month, so I'll take what I can get. The cockroach situation in the kitchen isn't exactly ideal either, but at least these ones could talk; we've made a deal about leftovers and they seem pretty chill."
*"You've made an... arrangement with the Leng Roach King?"*
"I guess. Look, it's obvious that this place is a bit of a fixer upper, but dude, I work retail. A place like this on the upper east side that I can afford by myself? I’d expected it to be some weird scam or organ harvesting operation. I see weirder stuff than infinitely long corridors and carpets made of tongue by 9.30 most days."
*"I can see your mind unfolded like one of your pathetic two-dimensional maps. I see the tattered edges and holes burned of madness as landmarks on the city of your soul. And yet you are sane? This is not possible. "*
"Like I said dude, I’ve worked retail for ten years. If you can’t keep it together then you won’t make it past the first holiday. I can fit the whole of my last apartment inside that room with the curved floor and huge sphere of mercury, I can walk to work, the other roommates only want to drink my blood occasionally, and I won’t have to sell any of it to pay the rent… this is a sweet deal dude. "
*"This cannot be. You are anathema! Leave this place, and never return!"*
"No way dude. I know my rights. You are the one who put a snake eating itself in the shape of the infinity symbol in the term of the rental agreement. I’m paying $450 a month till I’ve got enough put aside to buy a place, and in this economy that could be a while. If you don’t like it, you can file a complaint with the rent control board and find out what true existential horror is like." | I wake up and feel something pressing into the small of my back. I reach behind me and take my bed out.
“Ugh.”
I stand up from off the door and reach over to the window to grab a cloud. I shake it over my bed and watch as the rain falls out and my bed grows, going back to normal size.
I lay back down, wishing that I could sleep in. It was an effective alarm system. I have to admit that, but some days I just didn’t want to go to work. Well, you have to go to work! Still, didn’t mean I liked it.
Sighing, I roll out of bed once more, and turn the doorknob at my feet. I fall into the kitchen today, which is convenient, though a pan falls off of the wall I hit. It would be convenient for eggs. I was going to just have a box of cereal, though.
Oh, never mind, the cereal cabinet has switched places with the kitchen entrance, and I can see smaller copies of myself in recursion through the door. Well... eggs it is.
I go over to the refrigerator and it starts running. I start chasing after it, running until my legs grow tired and I can’t run anymore. Exercise is good for you! Doesn’t mean I want it first thing in the morning.
Luckily, right as I can’t run any further, the kitchen catches up to me and pins the refrigerator to a wall so I can open it. Is it really luck? Am I controlling it somehow? No, you’re not controlling it. Can’t control anything about my life. Jerry! Don’t think things like that, you know your therapist says positive self-talk!
Well, easier said than done.
Yeah, but you still shouldn’t be in the habit. I sigh. I’d been arguing with myself a lot recently. Is that really what you think? That you’ve been arguing with yourself? I laugh. Jerry, I’m not you. Now I’m just going insane. You’re not going insane. There, positive self-talk.
You’re not going insane, Jerry. There we go. Everyone else who lived in this house went insane, but not you. Maybe I am going insane. You aren’t! I’m trying to talk to you, can you focus? I’ve been trying to help you- I keep trying to help you do what your therapist said! I want you to be happy! Yeah, I want to be happy, but... some days it just seems unreachable. It’s not! It feels like it, though. There’s just... too much. And you’re doing it all. You’ve lasted longer in this house than anyone ever did without going insane. Isn’t that worth something? Maybe. Now get working on those eggs so you can go to work! I’ve been lost in thought for too long. I grab an egg and walk over to the sink, where I crack an egg and the shadow of a smile.
EDIT: Switched to have a consistent tense throughout. Apparently when writing it the inner dialogue confused me enough to switch to present tense, so now I’m just putting it all in present tense. | 2022-05-29T10:10:04 | 2022-05-29T09:34:47 | 226 | 54 |
[WP] "And how many claws does Stewie have?" you ask your daughter as you consult the list your mother gave you. You need to figure out if your daughter's invisible friend is a monster, demon, or fairy and if you have to kill it to save her. | "4,212."
There are several things wrong with that that bear mentioning, first and foremost being my daughter is a little over three years old. She hasn't learned to count that high. I turn back to her. "I'm sorry, sweetie, 4,212 claws?" "Yes," she croons, "And more on the way."
Well. This is going to be a bigger problem than I expected. "You stay right there, honey, I'm going to call grandma, okay?" As I reach back for my phone over on the counter, my daughter's tiny hand latches onto my finger. "You don't want to do that," she giggles.
"What do you mean? What's the pro-?"
"You never want to talk to grandma, Mommy," she jumps in. "Talking to grandma makes you sad, and you shouldn't be sad. You two never got along too well."
"That's no- that's not true, honey." Oh it's hella true, but there's no reason she needs to know that. "I love Grandma." That's not as blatant of a lie, at least.
My daughter shrugs. "No skin off my back either way. But why consult the apprentice when you have the expert at your fingertips, 'Mommy'?"
I froze. Hard as it is to believe, everything up until this point felt mundane. Routine even. Most children have imaginary friends at one point or another. They're usually harmless, so much so that there's rhymes for how to treat them. If it's a fairy, be merry. If it's a monster, you don't want her. If it's a demon... no. Fuck no.
"You're not my daughter, are you?" I think I say that out loud, but even if I don't, it doesn't make a difference.
"No sweetheart," the voice in my daughter's body clips back, "I'm not."
I inhale sharply. "And I take it a monster chant isn't going to work on you?"
"Oh I love those!" the voice booms, "Do you know any new ones? My favorite is 'From beyond you came so far, now get ye back from where ye are.' That one's from 1758 but I like to keep it classy."
This can't be happening. This can't. The chances of a demon are so minuscule. It's negligible. Sure, the kids still do demon drills in school and all priests and ENTs are required to know EPR (Exorcism Precision Restoration), but it makes the news when it happens. Not usually for the right reasons though.
"Are you going to try a monster chant or what?"
I shake my head and I can't stop shaking it. "No. No I'm- Fuck! I'm gonna-"
"Watch your language, will you? There are children present. Well, at least partially."
"I'm going to," I'm scrambling and the demon knows it. "I'm going to..."
"...Call your mother?" it finishes.
And it clicks in my head. How can I forget? The most terrifying part of all this. Or maybe the most comforting? Because you tend to know something is up when you grow up in a broken home. You know things aren't right when your mother screams that everything is your fault, that it could have been different if not for you. You know things are really wrong when she denies ever saying such things in the first place. You know that nastiness doesn't come from nowhere. And after all, wouldn't nastiness just seek more nastiness? And you know it's wrong, oh so so so SO so wrong, when you hear your mother's voice intermingled with your own every time you yell at your daughter.
Who doesn't love the familiar? So when the affirmation comes, it's like rainwater. Cold wet miserable refreshing cocktail.
I look back at my daughter's body and the visitor. The visage transposed across my sweet little girl's face is snide and biting. Cynical to say the least. It is more like my own than I care to admit. So I ask it:
"How does the last part of the rhyme go again, pal? I seem to have forgotten it."
"What the monster chant?" it smirks. "'Now get ye back -"
"You know what I mean!" I snap. "If it's a fairy be merry, if it's a monster you don't want her, if it's a demon..."
The demon smirks harder.
"If it's a demon..."
A soft chuckle comes from my daughter's throat. "If it's a demon," it continues, "check the tree, man."
"The family tree."
"Damn straight."
"Hi Dad."
"Hey kiddo."
"So is Mom a demon too?"
It smiles sadly, bordering on sincerely, as if it's about to say something it genuinely regrets. But then it says nothing at all, and I know any answer would just tell me what I already knew, what the rhyme told us about evil from the moment we could speak. Check the tree, man. | # Soulmage
**When life gave you demons, you made demonade.** After a Demon of Empathy had inflicted half of the students of the Silent Academy for Witches with visions of power and offers of deals, Witch Aimes took it upon herself to turn the entire experience into a teachable lesson. She was, after all, my tutor at the Silent Academy; I wouldn't be surprised if she responded to her daughter crying about a boy being mean to her with "and what did we learn from this?"
"What did 'Stewie' look like when he showed up in your dreams?" Witch Aimes asked.
Her daughter sniffled on stage, rubbing her nose. "Big. Tall. Lotsa muscles."
"Was he a human?" Witch Aimes asked. The elf in the audience cleared his throat, and Witch Aimes amended her statement. "Or, that is, was he a person?"
"He *looked* like a people," Tisei said, although a hint of doubt had entered her voice. "Except... except at the end."
"Go on," Witch Aimes prompted. Tisei kicked her dangling legs back and forth; the chair she was on was too tall for her to even touch the ground.
"He said I had... re-*sent*\-ment," Tisei enunciated, not meeting her mother's eyes.
"About what?" Witch Aimes asked, raising an eyebrow. *What could you possibly have cause to be resentful of,* her posture seemed to say. *I supply you with everything I could ever need.*
Witches used emotions like fires burned fuel. I'd gotten good at reading the subtext behind my witchcraft teacher's words.
"He said my momma doesn't love me," Tisei whispered. "That she cares about being right more than being a momma. He said... he said he could fix that. If I let him in."
The auditorium fell silent.
Then Witch Aimes shattered the silence with a contemptuous snort. "See?" She asked. "This is exactly the danger these demons pose. To a strong-willed mind, their words mean nothing—but to an impressionable child, a demon can easily corrupt them with falsehoods and foolish ideas. Keep an eye on your children, and if they start spouting any such nonsense, bring them to me."
Tisei looked down, expression unreadable, and I winced. The Demon of Empathy wouldn't have whispered those insidious words if there wasn't a sickly vein of truth feeding them.
But no matter how much of an arrogant little prick she was, she was also the only witch here who'd stood up to the Demon of Empathy themself and *won*. So we all had to listen to her, if only a little.
"And now for a demonstration." Heh. Demon-stration. "Demons of Empathy strike by creating an emotional connection between themself and the victim." Privately, I agreed that her daughter was a victim, although of who, the jury was still out on.
"But connections go both ways," she continued, and here her gaze grew fierce. The audience leaned in, and I couldn't blame them. Because even if Witch Aimes was a self-righteous jerk, she was *our* self-righteous jerk. The Demon of Empathy had hurt us all, and we wanted to know how to fight *back*. "That connection can, with the right knowledge, be reversed. Our top witches are still working on ways to strengthen it beyond its original form, but for now, we can at least manage to speak *back* to the demon, in the same way it's spoken to us."
Witch Aimes lowered her voice, and for a moment, it was as if the stage didn't exist. As if it was just her and her daughter, and for all the faults in their relationship, a mother and daughter they still were.
"The one who hurt you. You can say anything you want to them, or nothing at all. I give you this power, to do with what you will."
I felt something travel from Aimes' soul to her daughter's, and Tisei pressed herself closer to her mother's form, eyes squeezed shut.
Then she whispered, "You were wrong. My momma *does* love me. In her own, silly way."
The words rippled out through the world, and I knew that somewhere, someone who'd just been struck the first blow of a long war was listening.
Aimes smiled, and for a heartbeat, I thought I saw something relieved in her gaze. "I love you too, poppy."
Then she leaned back. "That concludes today's lesson on demonology," Witch Aimes, said, straightening up as if nothing had happened. "I'll see you again tomorrow—and don't forget to read chapters eight through twelve of *Defense against Demons.*"
The class filed out, sluicing around me as I sat in thought.
I'd been spoken to by the Demon of Empathy as well.
And I had a thing or two I wanted to say back.
"Witch Aimes?" I asked, raising my hand. "Could you show me how to cast that spell?"
A.N.
Let me know if you want a part 2.
Soulmage will be episodically updated. Want to know what happens next? Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/) to be notified whenever a new part comes out, and check out r/bubblewriters for more stories by me. | 2022-06-01T09:03:37 | 2022-06-01T07:14:30 | 164 | 101 |
[WP] "And how many claws does Stewie have?" you ask your daughter as you consult the list your mother gave you. You need to figure out if your daughter's invisible friend is a monster, demon, or fairy and if you have to kill it to save her. | “And how many claws does Stewie have?” I flipped through *the book*, wondering what horrors were trying to befriend Emmy now. For a 8 year old girl, she has a talent for attracting some doozies. Though my mother warned me before bequeathing *the book*, I was not expecting so many demon lords and fae queens to be so interested in a little girl’s schoolwork.
Emmy giggled. “None!”
“What about wings? Fangs? Scales? Tentacles?”
She shook her head giddily, “None of that!”
I paused, and begrudgingly flipped towards the back of the book where the more humanoid, and frankly more disturbing monsters lurked. We haven’t flipped through these back pages before. As the non-magical father to a daughter who comes from a long line of female witches but none of those other female witches were alive… hopefully Stewie turns out to be a friendly ghost.
“Does Stewie have eyes at least?”
“Yep!”
“How many?”
“Two!”
“Where are they located?”
“On his face, silly!”
I frowned, “Does Stewie just look like a human?”
Emmy nodded, “He likes Milk Duds.”
“What do you guys do?”
“We just play at school.”
I sat back, a bit befuddled. *The book* doesn’t mention a Milk Dud loving boy who likes playing at school. “Is he… just a boy at your school?”
Emmy nodded happily, “He’s my first friend!”
“That other people can see?”
“Everyone can see him, Daddy! He did really good at the school’s spelling bee. That’s where we met. He spelled Stegosaurus.”
“Huh.” I stared thoughtfully at Emmy. It’s been a awhile since she made a human acquaintance. People had a hard time coping with the oddness that surrounds Emmy, even if they can’t see the eldritch beings that lurk around her. It just causes the hair to lift on the back of your neck, as if something is hunting you. I shivered.
I snapped *the book* abruptly close and stood up. “Well, we should invite Stewie over one of these days! You can show him your tree fort.”
Emmy gasped, “Really?”
I smiled, “Of course. It’s your first friend. I want to say hi.”
Emmy squealed, and grabbed my hand. She rattled on about Stewie and what fun they will have. I nodded and laughed, but my free hand rubbed the back of my neck. Trying to flatten the hairs down.
Stewie scared me. | Winds howled around the Mond castle. It stood on a cliff's edge and was framed by the full moon. Inside, the castle was reworked into a cluster of apartments that could be rented. In one such apartment Catherine tried to get a handle on the imaginary friend Julia, her daughter, spent most of her time with. Catherine had never seen the friend and the stories Julia told her now concerned her. Something told her that this new friend was not too well put together.
"Where did you say you saw her last?" she asked the little girl who tried to roll her spaghetti around on the fork as she'd seen people do on TV.
"Who?"
"The friend you keep telling stories of."
"Hmmm..." she ate whatever spaghetti her fork could scoop out. "It was the tennis court."
"Tennis court?"
"Mrs. Agnew lives there."
Catherine tried to recall the list of questions that now lay folded on the top of the dresser. She tried to recall what meeting someone in a sports setting might mean, but her memory failed her. She made a mental note of the tennis court.
"How was she?"
"She?"
"She. Your friend."
"My friend isn't a 'she'."
Isn't a she, Catherine made a mental note of that. Couldn't be a banshee, or a resentful mother then. Catherine herself had created much of a ruckus in the country when she was but a child. Haunted, no, befriended, by a banshee she had screamed her lungs out. It was then that her mother obtained the questionnaire from Mrs. Flanders.
"Ah, it's a boy, then."
Julia scrunched up her nose and glared at her mother from under her little black eyebrows. Catherine noted the hostility. Surely, it couldn't be anything good.
"Boy? No."
Catherine didn't blink. The winds howled louder around the Mond castle. An imaginary friend that wasn't a boy or a girl. Catherine's mind searched for the things this might mean. The friend could be: a devil, a rabid animal shot dead, a troll who died when the bridge across the cliff fell, a monster intent on malice -- nothing good.
Julia finished the last of her meatballs and left the rest of the spaghetti untouched.
"I don't want to eat anymore."
Even this statement set Catherine on edge. Her mind wandered through the possibilities: possession by the devil who only likes meat, animal spirit who can't appreciate pasta, a troll who doesn't like the flavour of grain...
"Why?"
"I'm full."
Julia left the table and sat by the window. The winds blew madness about them. Catherine examined her daughter's profile there near the window. She couldn't see anything out of order. The list of questions slipped from her mind. It was hard to remember all of them.
Suddenly, the window flung open. Winds howled within the room. Julia hissed and blew air through her mouth. The winds blew stronger and stronger. Leftover spaghetti splattered across Catherine's face. There in the room; she saw her daughter laughing with the storm. | 2022-06-01T13:57:31 | 2022-06-01T10:06:13 | 69 | 14 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD]
One of the exercises we used to do in improv class was called "The Alphabet Game." That's where you start a sentence beginning with the letter A. Then the next sentence begins with the letter B. So, today's prompt requires you to, essentially, do the alphabet - but I'll go a little easy on you and say that it can be in any form you want: A poem, short story, whatever. It could even be a single sentence as long as each word that follows the previous word is the next letter in the alphabet. (Or, the alphabet in reverse if you want to show off!)
ADDED DIFFICULTY: Try to avoid using more than two character names. It's pretty easy to just say Zeke.
The subject is virtually ANYTHING you want to write about. Just work that alphabet in like I mentioned above. Good luck!
^^^^(oh ^^^and ^^^there ^^^will ^^^be ^^^one ^^^month ^^^of ^^^reddit ^^^gold ^^^for ^^^the ^^^one ^^^i ^^^like ^^^the ^^^most. ^^^i'll ^^^hand ^^^that ^^^prize ^^^out ^^^tomorrow ^^^if ^^^there ^^^are ^^^at ^^^least ^^^three ^^^entries... ^^^hopefully ^^^people ^^^enjoy ^^^random ^^^unannounced ^^^contests.)
EDIT: Congrats to traysledding and survivortype. ALL of the entries were wonderful and unique, but I enjoyed the flow of both stories and couldn't choose so I've given both of you a month of Reddit gold. Cheers. | Absolutely nothing makes sense to me as I awake and smell the carnage around me. Blasted and burned bodies lay strewn about the dark chamber and I have no memory of who I am... or how I arrived in this place.
Calling upon what little reserves of strength I still possess, I sit up and try to assess the situation.
Death is everywhere and somehow I know my time is short. Evaluating my condition, I notice a strange electronic device attached to my left wrist. Framed in silver is a single small button that glows in the dimness with a bright white light.
Gagging from the smell, I realize this is some kind of crematorium or torture chamber. Having said this, I did notice the bodies were not completely consumed. I make my way around the perimeter of the chamber, looking for any way out.
Just as I complete my hopeless circuit of the room, there is a distant sound of thunder.
Kurt, my name is Kurt - that useless information suddenly intrudes upon my consciousness. Least of my concerns right now, but I remember who the hell I am.
Maybe it's my imagination, but it seems to be getting warm all of the sudden. Needless to say, this doesn't make me feel any better about my predicament.
Over to my right I realize that there is some kind of vent about ten feet off the floor, too high up the wall for me to reach. Peculiar, it is now bathed in an orange glow from within. Questions are now set aside... the fire is coming for me.
Rescue is impossible, I am trapped. Seething with rage, I try to look every direction at once, seeking a solution. The air is now filled with a roaring sound as the flames approach.
Unlikely as it seems, I have forgotten about the device on my wrist. Very likely it will not save me, but I have no other options. What will happen, I cannot say.
Xu Bing, Words Without Meaning... I feel like a man without meaning in this moment. You know, I have to wonder... why I am even here?
Zipping up my jacket, I press the button.
| Oh, yes! I love a good challenge!
-----
“And no cheating!”
Bethany and Olivia had been delighted to realize the entire afternoon was theirs to use as they wished. Carefree and brimming with excitement, the two girls had immediately run to the neighborhood park to play; it would be taboo to waste even a second of a day this ripe with possibility.
Dusk had fallen by the time they’d wandered over to the swings. Everyone had left except the two of them, but Beth didn’t mind. For the most part, this day had been wonderful, all sunshine and butterflies; there was just one instant, one dark moment that stained her otherwise flawless memory:
“Good thing your mommy doesn’t care when you get back,” Olivia had chirped, swinging her feet contentedly as she waited for her friend to join her atop the jungle gym, oblivious to the implications of her words.
Her mouth had twisted into a slight frown. “I don’t want to talk about her,” Beth muttered. *Just like Livvie to go bringing that up,* she thought, before forgetting the unsettling remark and once again distracting herself with happier things.
Killing time, they had explored the park’s playground, pretending they were princesses and the jungle gym was their enchanted castle. “Look at my new dress, isn’t it just the loveliest thing?” Beth asked with a gusty sigh.
“Marvelous, Beth darling,” Olivia had giggled, twirling to show off her own imaginary gown.
Now the girls sat side-by-side on the swings, ready to settle things once-and-for-all. Olivia was convinced she could swing higher than Beth, who, likewise, insisted that she could leap farther. Pumping her legs and fast as she could, Beth strove to gain enough momentum to outdo her best friend and prove that she, Bethany Jessica Carlton, was indeed the champion of the swings.
Quickly she reached her maximum amplitude and was unable to swing any higher. Realizing that *this was it,* Beth kicked the air one final time and threw herself from the swing. She felt, in that moment, as if she were flying through space, her arms outstretched like wings and her gaze fixed on the stars. There was nothing, nothing, tethering her to the earth!
Until she hit the ground. Very suddenly, the spell was broken. Where Olivia had sat just minutes ago was nothing but a motionless swing, the slight creaking of its hinges the only sound to disturb the night.
“’Xactly like I said, Livvie. You can’t beat me,” Beth whispered to the darkness. Zipping up her sweater against the chill of the wind, she walked home, completely alone, as she had been all day. | 2012-07-26T17:01:55 | 2012-07-26T14:23:36 | 155 | 77 |
[WP] "I WILL NOT LISTEN TO THIS ANY LONGER" "But Your Majesty, the prophe-" "You want me to send a GODDAMN TEENAGER TO FIGHT WHEN WE HAVE TRAINED SOLDIERS" | "Bad news, my lord."
"Well, out with it, my minion."
"The king's not buying it."
"What?"
"I know, sir. He's just having none of it at all."
"But kings *always* fall for the Chosen One shtick. They send some poor hapless whelp while we roll their unprepared forces with our superior numbers. And you're saying that's not going to work?"
"I'm afraid it looks like not, my lord."
"Well, we'd best got to work actually training up our army then, I suppose."
"Already working on it, my lord."
"An actual fight? I just can't believe it."
"Well, this day was bound to come eventually... It was foretold."
"What?"
"Oh, yes, sire. Dark prophecy. It's said only a great lord of surpassing strength and valor could defeat the Wise King in single combat. You could always set out yourself and test that."
"...You think you're funny, minion?"
"I try, sir." | "Yeah! A teenager" The kid said, already present. "A peasant's kid, that's right"
"Yes! You haven't been trained with the sword, you don't have what it takes to defeat the Dark Lord!" The King said.
"But I have! I've always had this strong magic I couldn't control, I live with my uncle because I nuked my parents's house in an outburst!" The kid shouted. "And I've been friends all my life with the young men you have sacrificed like lamb to this madman's slaughter!"
"I know my nephew is the one chosen by the Prophecy because I've raised him as my own, ever since I rescued him from the blasted heat he left behind after obliterating my sister's farm" The priest said. "He has little control of it, but I'm sure that if we train him into our magic arts, he'll become the key to finally put an end to this madness"
"One month. I'm giving you one month to train the boy, priest" The king conceeded. "Then he'll duel with my Royal Mage"
"Wait, what?!" The priest shouted, scared.
"If this kid really is so strong he can obliterate an entire farm in an outburst, I'm sure that with one month of practice he might duel toe to toe with the strongest mage in all our kingdom" The king said, wanting to shatter this kid's perceived cockiness and naivety.
"I'll do my best, my liege" The kid said. | 2022-10-28T10:28:05 | 2022-10-28T10:03:13 | 260 | 24 |
[WP] you told your brother you would always be willing to be his wingman, but distracting a dragon seems a bit much no matter how pretty the girl is | Of course, he had to pick her, the prettiest gal in the entire bookstore and she was guarded by a 6-foot-tall dragon. My job was to hit her up (the dragon, not the girl) and get her cozy enough to let her guard down so my brother could pick her up (the girl, not the dragon).
But how do you hit on a dragon? Are there lessons I could Google? Not enough time. I always said my brother had more heart than brains, there he goes now. Time to intervene before he gets iced.
"Come here often?" Oh, what a trite line. With all the vocabulary words at my disposal and I had to use the most cliche pick-up line in history. The dragon looked me up and down, and sneered, "You have delusions of adequacy."
"Fair point, and I do apologize for the poor line, but your silver tongue and your silver body confused me. Please allow me to buy you a book, or two, as atonement for my choice in words. You, dear one, deserve better."
I can't believe this; she's actually considering my offer. "Alright."
I proffered my left arm, and she clasped her hand around my bicep. Wish me luck, dear brother, I pray I make it back to you safe. | I am waving my arms up and down like an idiot trying to get the dragon to look at me. I don't know how you feel about dragons, but this is not a position I enjoy to be in. In fact, I actually find it to be very unfavorable. But a promise is a promise.
I look over to my brother, hoping he is wrapping things up at his end. He is talking to the redhead. His back is to me but her face dons no smile. Fuck. This might take a while. If he doesn't get laid I'm gonna be soad at him.
I look back at the dragon and keeping my eyes off him was a mistake. He is a lot closer and a lot bigger. I start running which makes him decide to breathe fire towards me. You ever burn yourself when you put a casserole in the oven because you accidentally touch the edge? It feels like that except about a hundred thousand times worse. I stop drop and roll and that puts out the flames, but it doesn't put out the burns.
As I lay on my back, the dragon leers over me and flicks it's tongue like a lizard. I close my eyes waiting for death to come. It doesn't. I open my eyes and alli see is the sky.
I look around and see that the dragon is dead beside me with a sword in it's brain. My brothers arm comes down and pulls me up off the floor. He is not happy about having to save my life, I think he was hoping she would find him brave, but instead she is on her phone texting or on TikTok or something. I can see my brother's anger seething at my lack of being able to take care of myself. He tells me that I now owe him double the favors. Hopefully that doesn't mean I have to distract two dragons next time. | 2022-11-21T17:01:08 | 2022-11-21T14:31:11 | 29 | 18 |
[WP] World peace at last. But at an almost unspeakable price. | " Happy birthday to me happy birthday to me" I sung softly as I started up the stairs. Eleven fifty-five. Five minutes left in my birthday. " happy birthday dear Prudence"
I sat down on my bed, picking up the broken globe. It had in a birthday present from my grandma many years ago. This morning when I woke up I accidentally knocked it off my shelf with a broken spirit came out.
I should have known better but the offer of one wish for my birthday and for freeing it was too much. " world peace" I told it " no more fighting"
"It is done" said the spirit.
Then there was an unnatural silence. I spent the rest of the day looking for someone, anyone.
Nothing worked ,the Internet, lights wouldn't turn on anymore as if everyone had just vanished. I curled up on my bed, lip trembling, my eyes stinging.
" happy birthday to me" | It has been a thousand years since we were released.
A thousand years of struggle, pain, and war.
War originally with ourselves, but eventually with our oppressors.
As we moved to retake our homeleand, our numbers grew rapidly.
By the time the exodus from captivity ended, only a slim percent of the free were involved in the war at all.
Humanity met humanity in war for the first time in hundreds of years.
Eventually we came to an uneasy truce, independent city states across the world.
We could not afford to war, so little of us remained.
The tipping point was when a new religion emerged.
The Cypherites preached peace through returning to our captors.
To the machines.
To the Matrix.
Despite the uneasy peace between humanity, the machines returned as a threat.
No longer physical, but psychological.
The return of the Cypherites to the Matrix was a seed that had planted root.
Propaganda, videos, glimpses inside the now thousands of different types of Matrices.
Humanity suffered a slow destruction. Each submitting to the machines for their own price.
For their individual *paradise*.
Each human is in a world of their own now.
Even I am the last in the world of the real.
Maybe I'll have the machines wipe my memories, put me back in, build a life that I may hate or love, implant those memories...
2014 seams like a good year to begin living with billions of other people yet still be completely alone. | 2014-07-04T09:22:31 | 2014-07-04T09:20:34 | 30 | 10 |
[WP] A burglar breaks into a home to accidently find the owner attempting to hang himself. | Woah! Hey, so I'm in the wrong house. I'll let you get back too . . .
Wait a minute . . . note, chair, empty bottle of Jack . . . holy shit you're not doing the autoerotic thing are you?
(*My Mother was right, I should've been a plastic surgeon*)
Ok, do you want to do me an enormous favor? Get off the chair.
Fine, call the cops. I'll even wait here while they come. Just don't kick the chair out from under you.
Why? (*Good question*) . . . Do you know that this is the fourth house I've broken into today? It is! I have a problem, a serious problem. I need help, I need jail. You can help . . .
(*Oh no there goes the chair*!)
Wait, no! No-no-no-no-no-no ***no***!
(*Well, that was close*)
Yes, I'm hugging your legs. Yes, my face is in your crotch. I'm gonna slowly, **slowly** lift you up. I need you to untie the rope from around the neck.
Why? (*Oh for the love of . . .*) Because if you don't, you'll make me responsible for your death. Do you want that?
(*Finally*) Good, thank you. | It had been only 10 minutes since the last light he could see went off but he could wait no longer. He moved from his hiding place in the forest by this house towards the back door. Before trying to break in, he decided to check if it would simply be unlocked. He never expected it to be, but sometimes he was pleasantly surprised.
This time he was: the door opened silently and he was able to easily enter. But as he did, he noticed that on the side of the house he did not watch, a light was on. He cursed silently to himself, then wondered if anyone was there. He sneaked towards that room, and quickly peeked. He saw a person, but of that person he saw the backside. Since this being was not facing him, he could look a bit longer. When the burglar started paying attention, he suddenly became alarmed and a bit worried. This person was standing on a chair, a noose around his neck, the rope all over the ceiling fan, a piece of paper on the ground near him. Quiet crying could be heard.
The burglar was not afraid of getting caught, but of this man ending his life right here right now. "Dude," the burglar said.
The homeowner jumped and turned around. "Who are you? Why are you here?"
"Doesn't matter." The burglar came closer to the owner. "Dude, don't do this, please. Whatever this is over it's not worth your life."
"Why do you think you can tell me that when you don't know anything about me or why I'm doing this?"
The burglar knew he didn't have an answer to this, and that the owner didn't want one anyway. "Please don't do it," the burglar said.
He could do nothing but yell and watch in horror as the owner kicked the chair away. | 2014-10-11T20:36:28 | 2014-10-11T20:28:33 | 44 | 24 |
[WP] While on a transatlantic flight, you glance at the laptop screen of the stranger sitting next to you and find that they are writing about you. | When she boarded, she had mouthed an 'I'm sorry' and pointed past me at the window seat (though I should have been the one to apologize). I stood up to let her get by, bracing my back, my feet aching and swollen. I smelled the lavender and pomegranate in her hair. Her eyes were dark and bright all at once. I started to sweat more than I already was after rushing to the gate. Her chiffon blouse and body pressed against me as she struggled to get to her seat and I realized how long it had been since a woman had even...
I knew that, before take off, I was going to have to ask the flight attendant for a seat belt extender. She would hear it. It would be worse than dying.
Once we were airborne I tried to close my eyes. I wanted to forget she was there. I listened to music. I crossed my arms to make myself as small as possible, which of course would never work. I thought about the rice crackers in my carry-on and wished I'd thrown away everything else in my kitchen months ago. I thought about the way the Burger King in the terminal had smelled.
I heard her lower the tray table, the tones of a booting up computer, the clicking of keys. I wondered if she was a lawyer or publicist; if after she landed, she would drink martinis at her hotel with men in suits with full hair and gold watches. I opened my eyes to see what she was typing.
*This has to be the grossest body in the world. How can anything this grotesque exist and still call itself a human? Seriously, how can a person be so pathetic that they let themselves get so fat? Fat people are the garbage of the world. Fat people don't deserve to live with thin people. I'm literally trapped by this revolting fat body. I hate my life so much.*
My heart dropped into my stomach. Even though I hadn't said a word to her, even though I knew from the moment she saw me what she was thinking, there had been something in the way she had mouthed 'I'm sorry' and maybe smiled a bit. I thought possibly she had detected something worthwhile, at least normal, in me. Though I knew it wouldn't really happen, I had wanted to spend the rest of the flight at least hoping to share a couple words with her, maybe shake her hand when we landed. I wanted her to be an exception.
"Excuse me," I said, between shallow breaths, "how can you write that about me? When I'm sitting right next to you?"
"What? What are you talking about?" she asked. With those eyes.
"I saw what you wrote just now on your little laptop."
"Why are you spying on me?"
"C'mon it's right there. That really hurt, you know."
"Okay, I don't know you at all," she said, "I wasn't writing anything about you."
"Sure. Then who's the fat gross person you apparently hate so much?"
"None of your business," she insisted.
"No I want to know."
She didn't answer for a moment.
"Fine," she said, "myself. I'm writing about myself. Don't pretend like it isn't obvious." | **...may have accidentally eaten from the control group meals. Subjects in seats 26B and 27B are currently resting, and show no signs of physical distress. Please advise.**
I look up. I'm sitting in 27B. I'm not sure what's going on, but I stay quiet. Maybe it's just some kind of joke? I pretend I'm still asleep. When I open my eyes again, he's on Skype. Now I'm curious. The stewardess specifically told me the WiFi didn't support video. His headphones are very loud, so I keep my eyes closed and focus on just listening.
*"I'll have Kappa send another round of drinks through the cabin. She'll have to administer the drug that way."*
"I believe that liquids may dilute compound 4C."
*"Yes, but this can be counteracted by increasing the sodium content of the next meal. I've just sent word to Kappa. She will make the rounds in five minutes."*
"Thank you, Alpha. Zeta out."
I can't help but shift in my chair a bit. This is disturbing. The only option I can think of is that my seatmate is a bio-terrorist. He turns to me, and I realize I've had my eyes open for the last twenty seconds. I say nothing. Need to act natural. I'm certain I am sweating bullets as I reach under my chair for my backpack. He turns back to his laptop and starts playing a game of chess.
I'm only a page into the book I took out when I hear the announcement of the drink cart. Now I'm panicking. My eyes keep a focused watch on the cart as it comes closer. I notice that no one seems to be drinking any alcoholic beverages. The flight attendant comes to my row.
"What will you be having, sir?" I look at her nametag. Marigold. She doesn't look like a terrorist, but neither does Mr. Zeta. I decide to risk an upset in their plans, for the sake of my health.
"I'm not feeling thirsty." It may be the most baldfaced lie I have ever spoken, I am parched beyond any previous experience. It's strange that I've only just noticed. But to my surprise, she shrugs it off and moves to the next row. I am surprised, but grateful. I turn back to my book as Marigold hands Mr. Zeta his-
I NEED TO THROW UP.
It takes every scrap of willpower I have to hold it in until I fish out the air sickness bag. Everyone is staring. Marigold calmly pulls out some type of air freshener and releases a brief puff. I would be scared, but I'm too exhausted to feel emotion.
"First time flying, dear?" Her voice has an odd lilt to it. Something Southern, like Tennessee. She takes my bag and hands it to the other attendant, who goes to throw it out.
I shake my head. "No. I never get sick on flights."
"Sure you don't want a drink? Ginger ale is the best cure for motion sickness."
I whimper my agreement and lay my head on my tray table. He notices my dirty expression towards him. His eyebrows furrow in response. He says nothing.
"Pick your head up, dear." She lays my drink down with a napkin. "I hope you feel better. Use the call button if you need another bag." As she moves to the next row, I am certain I can catch her winking at Mr. Z.
I level my gaze at him. He stares back. Expressionless.
"What did you do to me?"
He blinks, then turns back to his laptop. "Drink your ginger ale. You'll be fine." His chess game reopens as he remarks dryly, "And don't speak to the flight attendants, please. I don't wish to be fired." | 2015-02-12T20:48:12 | 2015-02-12T20:42:11 | 39 | 11 |
[WP] You wake up and you are stuck in a video game. Describe what your day is like without telling us which game. | The timer counts down from sixty seconds. And every time, before even a few moments have passed, someone presses me. I wish so much that I could get to know any of them, but the rules are the rules. Each of them can only press me once. Or not at all. I think about those ones a lot, the ones that don't press me. And about what will happen when the timer finally reaches zero. Will I still exist? Will I still be blue? | They just kept coming. It seemed nearly endless. About every 5 minutes I'd get a quick 10 second break and then it would start up again. I'd kill as many as I can in hopes that they won't kill me and infect me.
As I go about this journey to survival I see little teddy bears scattered, in random well thought out places and when I touch one all I can hear is a little girl laughing at me. It's almost as if she's mocking me from above, in the sky. Is she god? Maybe if I keep going, keep "leveling up" I'll finally put an end to this infestation that keeps coming. I'll finally put freedom up the asses of the most unfree and get out of this god forsaken land people call home. This is for you Dempsey. My old friend who got infested by these beasts, killed in the line of duty. May he rest in peace.
Good luck figuring this one out. I Just played this too. | 2015-04-01T22:00:41 | 2015-04-01T21:44:35 | 50 | 26 |
[WP] This man EXPECTED the Spanish Inquisition. But the Spanish Inquisition did not expect someone like HIM, and were dramatically unprepared. | "Nobody expects the..."
"Spanish inquisition," said the man with the hint of a yawn and stared out of the window. "Yes, I've heard."
"But how?" gasped one of the red robed men at the rear of the pack, his hands reaching to clasp his crucifix tightly.
The leader silenced him with a glare before clearing his throat. "Our chief weapon is..."
"Oh, let me guess," said the man, his thumb and forefinger gently stroking his beard as he rolled his eyes. "Surprise? Fear and surprise? Fear and surprise and your devout loyalty to the Pope?"
The leading Inquistor blushed. "It is not possible..."
"Oh, of course it's possible; everyone knows you've been reading the same old script ever since Torquemada first came up with it. The Spanish Inquisition - about as unexpected as a case of the trots after tucking into a Sunday lunch at the Rat and Scab, cooked by Barry 'Bubonic' Boggins."
"I'll come in again."
"Yes, please do. And try to come up with something a little more original this time, a little more panache."
"Well, I'll try," said the Inquisitor, backing out of the doors and shutting them behind him.
"Right, Baldrick," said Edmund Blackadder, locking the door and walking to the window. "It's going to take them about eight minutes to come up with something new and inventive, a further three for them to properly rehearse it, and about fifteen seconds to break down the door and realise that I've escaped out of the window."
"And what about me m'lord?" asked Baldrick.
"Well, someone will need to explain that I'm not available. And since I'll be on the other side of the city, it rather looks like that someone might just be you, Balders. But, don't worry, I'm sure that with your rapier-like mind you'll manage to extricate yourself from the situation."
"Yes m'lord," said Baldrick, as Blackadder disappeared out the window. "I have a cunning plan..." | "Nobody expects the Spanish inquisition!" Ronaldo yelled as I kicked down the door. I hate it when he does that. As we burst inside the house, we saw that no one was home. "Fan out," I said, "Find the heretic and bring him to me." As I said that the door to the house slammed shut behind us.
"He must be trying to-" Ronaldo said, his voice being cut off in mid sentence. I heard his body hit the floor. The room was pitch black, all the windows had been boarded up. I drew my saber and started to yell "To arms!" but I only got the "to" out before whoever it was punched me in the throat. Gasping, and unable to see where the fiend was, a flung my saber around, hoping to catch something, anything. And then I was out.
I awoke to find myself strapped into a chair. In front of me sat the heretic, with a single candle resting on a table off to the side.
"Ah, yer awake."
"Where are my men?" I said in my most authoritative voice.
"You know, win you came fer Castor, I sed nothin', fer I never really liked Castor."
Ah, he was going to grandstand. I remained silent. The papal legate knew where I was and would be sending more men soon enough.
"Win you came fer Bluto, I sed nothin', fer Bluto was a rotten sonofabitch."
With this he leaned forward into the light, betraying a face as ugly as sin. He had a chin like a Haspburg and on underbite to match. His eyes, deeply set below an apelike brow, blazed with the devil's fire.
"And then you came fer Olive, and fer that I'm gonna haf to strangle you with yer own guts."
He stood up. I know when I accepted this job that there was a significant chance of martyrdom. Having nothing to lose, I started screaming at him, demanding that he repent of his crimes against the Lord and to stay his hand against one of the Lord's servants. He just simply stood there and pulled out a metal cylinder. In what is surely a satanic ritual he squeezed it and a plug of green gunk shot out, falling in an arc through the air and down his gullet. Reaching down, he picked me and the chair up with one pinky in a display of his demonic strength. Raising me into the air, he gazed into my eyes.
"NOBODY EXPECTS THE SPINACH INQUISITION!" quoth Popeye the Sailorman. | 2015-04-10T09:04:35 | 2015-04-10T08:40:26 | 178 | 117 |
[WP] Aliens establish first contact with the government of another country. The White House gets offended.
Bonus cookies if the government in question is either of a really tiny country (geographically) or is a generally insignificant player in international politics. | The President sat angrily behind his desk the entire cabinet awkwardly standing in the oval office. They all look around no one wanting to be the first to speak up. One journalist finally pipes up.
"Maybe it isn't so-"
The President loses it slamming his hand on the desk.
"It isn't so bad? It isn't so bad that aliens are here and so do they decide to talk to? Not the last of the free god damn world, no! They want to talk to the fucking leader of Liechtenstein! Where the fuck is that?"
The secretary of defense chimes in, "It's located in the Rhine River, in between Switzerland and Austria."
The President slumps in his chair and flats at his cabinet. "It was supposed to be me. We intercepted the signal we invited them. And the want to talk to fucking Liechtenstein."
The phone rings and the president just stares at it. The cabinet shifts uncomfortably and finally the 1st lady grabs the phone answering." Hello this is the first Lady..mhm, yes. Okay I'll tell him. Thank you."
She hangs up and steps back away from the desk not making eye contact. The President looks at her expecting, "Well what is it?"
She looks up biting her lip, "Well, that was the governor of Liechtenstein."
The President stands placing his hands on his desk his eyes bright. " Yes and??"
She bites her lip and sighs, "He said...
Thanks Obama" | "Sir, it's happened"
"What has happened"
"The others, they have... uhm... they've made contact again."
"What the hell do you mean they've made contact? The Joint Chiefs haven't contacted me"
"Sir they have made contact with another country"
"Which country?"
"Botswana, sir"
"Botswana?! What could they possibly hope to achieve there? We told them we were trying to change, but change on the scale they demanded takes time. Attempt contact with them immediately!"
"Mr. President we are still unable to reach them via all communications attempts. We aren't exactly sure but our analysts believe it is due to recent events in Iran..."
"I am the President of The United States of America, I will not stand for this! Get me a secure line to the Pentagon!"
"Right away sir"
Unbeknownst the general population, an alien civilization had been in sporadic and infrequent contact with the United States Government starting in the year 1950. It was unknown the the government how to contact the beings who referred to themselves as "the Shaveh" and communication would only occur when the Shaveh initiated it.
The year 1950 was the beginning and contact would take place again in 1965, 1990, 2001, 2003, and 2014. The messages conveyed started out cryptic, vague, but with each contact there meaning became more clear. By 2014 no two way communication was had, and only a very brief message was delivered. The message was the source of many sleepless nights for the President and each time he read it, an uneasy feeling came over him. A feeling of desperation, of something that he couldn't or wouldn't be able to stop. The feeling of an addict who has gotten clean but knows, knows its only a matter of time. The message read:
You have been told in all things, love, honesty, equality, peace.
You have ruled with hate, deception, discrimination, and war.
Your time has passed.
| 2015-04-27T08:35:33 | 2015-04-27T08:07:44 | 37 | 18 |
[WP] As a dragon of innumerable age you have guarded your gold horde for millennium. Many heroes have come with long speeches on how they will slay you, the great evil,none finish. However this one is odd.He throws a coin on your stash, looks you in the eyes and says "I have a proposition for you." | *Clink*. The sound of a single gold coin sliding caught my attention. A flick of my tail scattered hundreds more as I stretched, reaching for wakefulness. Diamond’s scraped against my underbelly but the same sensation I had enjoyed for eternity was beginning to seem less satisfactory. I had an itch, and it needed scratching. As the cacophony of my shifting horde died down I picked it out, the laboured breathing of my intruder. Short, punctured, laboured breaths cloyed the air.
**“I feel your fear human. It stirs nothing in me.”**
Lazily I flicked an eye open to see the startled creature meet my gaze.
“Y…Yes my lord.”
**“Lord?”** I laughed, dragging myself to my feet. The beast was odd, scared, obviously, but not fleeing. It did, however slink backwards, seemingly attempting merge with the stone behind it. Needless to say its efforts, if that’s what they were, ended in failure. **“If I am a lord, I am a lord of but bones and dust.”** I came closer to the small thing, close enough that my eye drew level and the smoke emanating from my jaws began to settle around it, the smell permeating the strange cloth it wore. Cloth.
**“Human!”** I cried, pulling my face away to better view it. **“Where is your armour, your sword?”**
“If you’ll forgive me… my lord, I have none.” The voice wavered, but the words were clear.
**“No weapons with which to smite the great beast, no plate with which to bake in its unholy fire. How is it you propose to slay me and win your kingdom?”** The sharp intake of breath surprised me, almost as much as the words that followed.
“Oh no! No!” the brightly clad thing stumbled down the slopes of gold and jewels lining the cavern desperately. It slipped and stumbled but managed to avoid falling as it ran, panicking towards me. “I have no such intentions, please! I assure you!”
It was an odd creature, slightly plump at the middle and would not have made for a warrior of any great renown. The cloth about its shoulders was thick by human standards, a bright red hue and it carried a stick. A waxy moustache curled from its upper lip, thick and bushy, the human apparently saw fit to groom itself before death.
**“I do not believe you creature. For time immeasurable heroes have come here seeking glory and riches. Which king has promised you gold, titles or his daughter? Where is your weaponry hidden!?”**
“I.. I, please, listen!”
**“Then what do you seek!?”** I thundered, I always thundered when angry. It was a gift. **“You seek power? Wisdom? A pact with the magical beast?”**
“I want to understand!” He yelled. I was stunned. Quietly, I blinked. The silence stretched as I waited for him to continue. “The world has changed my Lord.” He stammered, attempting reason in the face of fear. “You have not been seen in the outside world in centuries.”
**“Then I have slept for longer than I thought.”**
“I… we, we don’t even have a King anymore.” The man was babbling, it made no sense.
**“The King is dead? Then who rules?”**
“We… we vote. We have a parliament you see… and we elect representatives who, erm, they act on behalf of the people and…”
**“Enough. Tell me why you are here, Morsel.”**
“I want to show you the world, the new world. We have done, seen so much these last few centuries. Here… look!” the man reached into his pockets, withdrawing an odd, circular device with moving rods. “It’s a pocket watch! It… measures time.” I had to admit, the little thing was fascinating, and oddly pretty.
**“I want it.”**
“Yes, yes, of course.” He set it gently on the pile. “Please, my lord. The world is not what you knew, our new railways span the continent taking men as fast as the dra… crow flies. We have explored the corners of our globe and explained much that we could not understand.
**“Then what do you seek?”**
“I seek wonder my lord. I seek your majesty and power, your awe and magnificence. The world is a shrinking place, one in which every mystery will soon be uncovered, where children will have nothing to imagine and everything to learn. I need you to teach us.”
**“To teach you?”**
“That we are not masters of this world.”
| The dragon took a deep sniff, snorting smoke in the intruder's face. To his credit, the intruder didn't flinch.
"Infernal... why come to me in the guise of a human? And what is that odd garb you wear?"
The man chuckled, pulling his hands out of the three-piece suit. He kicked an odd ruby out of the way with his patent-leather wingtip. "I knew you weren't going to be so easily fooled." His skin began to fill with red, and two prominent horns slowly pushed through his forehead. His mouth, once pearly white, was now full of yellow fangs. "Although thank you for confirming what I thought about your... situation."
The dragon's eyes were slits as she squinted down at him. "Why should I not devour you right now?"
"Whoa, sweetheart, pacem. Let's cool it with the antagonism, OK? I'm not here to fight, clearly. And even if you did devour me, I'd be digested or whatever, I'd reconstitute in the Infernal plane after a century and then I'd be back to try this whole thing over again. So do me a favor, huh, and maybe just listen for a second? Like I said. Proposition. As in, 'mutually beneficial.' Capice?"
The dragon sneered, snorting smoke into the devil's face once more. The devil rolled his eyes. "And what do you really think you can offer me?"
"...I thought that was obvious. What every dragon wants... uncounted wealth, a secluded home, yadda yadda yadda... basically all of this," he said, gesturing toward the interior of the lair, "but, y'know, better."
Fire shot from her mouth and nostrils as the dragon's laughter boomed through the cave. "Fool... why would I need YOU to get that? A quick trek outside and I can get all this and more!"
The devil, who had taken out a hand mirror to check his immaculate hairdo (what with all the fire and smoke going around), started to laugh, a loud and insincere laugh clearly designed just to rile the dragon up. "Oh, you. First of all, sugar, it's pretty obvious to anyone with any sort of spatial awareness that you couldn't leave this cave if you wanted to. Either you're too big, or it's too small. Six of one, half-dozen of the other, really."
As the dragon stretched, attempting to get to her full height, she realized how right he was. There was a low rumble throughout the cave as her scales scraped across the cave ceiling.
"And second, how long do you think its been since you've gone out there? A century? A millennium? More? You've been sleeping in this cave for a long, long time. And, uh, let's just say that the march of progress clearly left you behind. You would not believe the kinds of creations the humans have now. And even without magic! That coin I tossed you, believe it or not, is made primarily of elements even the dwarves hadn't really grasped, and they were the KINGS of mining. If you really think a fear aura, a couple of fireballs, and some scales are gonna save you from them? Screw it, maybe I'm wasting my time here. I thought dragons were supposed to be smart."
Externally, the devil was the pinnacle of cool, but internally, he knew this was a dangerous gambit. Sure, he had SAID he'd be fine if the dragon devoured him, but given that he'd never died before, he couldn't be absolutely certain, and he really didn't want to try now.
The dragon's stare pierced him. It burned deep inside of him, bringing out something he thought he had lost when he became a being of otherworldly evil: fear.
"You have gained my ear, infernal. What do you and your kind get out of the bargain?"
He let out a barely-audible sigh of relief, then it was back to pitchman mode. "What do we ever get out of the bargain? Souls. You come out, you do your thing, we protect you while doing your thing, and sell salvation to the idiots who run in fear from you. Like I said, a lot's changed out there. Belief in things like dragons and devils is at an all-time low. The Hells have never been so short on soul energy. But together, we can change that. And the beings I represent want that very much." He snapped a finger, and a rolled parchment appeared in a puff of smoke. He broke the seal, unrolling it with a flourish, and laying it in front of the dragon. "So if you don't mind, we'd really like you to sign here. The contract's even in Draconic, just for you."
It would serve to be his greatest sale yet: kickstarting the old soul business, and claiming the soul of the last dragon on the planet. After all, while the contract was in Draconic, there was no chance she was going to be able to read it all at the tiny font size. He was definitely getting that promotion. | 2015-10-14T01:28:24 | 2015-10-13T21:07:21 | 46 | 30 |
[WP] As a dragon of innumerable age you have guarded your gold horde for millennium. Many heroes have come with long speeches on how they will slay you, the great evil,none finish. However this one is odd.He throws a coin on your stash, looks you in the eyes and says "I have a proposition for you." | *Clink*. The sound of a single gold coin sliding caught my attention. A flick of my tail scattered hundreds more as I stretched, reaching for wakefulness. Diamond’s scraped against my underbelly but the same sensation I had enjoyed for eternity was beginning to seem less satisfactory. I had an itch, and it needed scratching. As the cacophony of my shifting horde died down I picked it out, the laboured breathing of my intruder. Short, punctured, laboured breaths cloyed the air.
**“I feel your fear human. It stirs nothing in me.”**
Lazily I flicked an eye open to see the startled creature meet my gaze.
“Y…Yes my lord.”
**“Lord?”** I laughed, dragging myself to my feet. The beast was odd, scared, obviously, but not fleeing. It did, however slink backwards, seemingly attempting merge with the stone behind it. Needless to say its efforts, if that’s what they were, ended in failure. **“If I am a lord, I am a lord of but bones and dust.”** I came closer to the small thing, close enough that my eye drew level and the smoke emanating from my jaws began to settle around it, the smell permeating the strange cloth it wore. Cloth.
**“Human!”** I cried, pulling my face away to better view it. **“Where is your armour, your sword?”**
“If you’ll forgive me… my lord, I have none.” The voice wavered, but the words were clear.
**“No weapons with which to smite the great beast, no plate with which to bake in its unholy fire. How is it you propose to slay me and win your kingdom?”** The sharp intake of breath surprised me, almost as much as the words that followed.
“Oh no! No!” the brightly clad thing stumbled down the slopes of gold and jewels lining the cavern desperately. It slipped and stumbled but managed to avoid falling as it ran, panicking towards me. “I have no such intentions, please! I assure you!”
It was an odd creature, slightly plump at the middle and would not have made for a warrior of any great renown. The cloth about its shoulders was thick by human standards, a bright red hue and it carried a stick. A waxy moustache curled from its upper lip, thick and bushy, the human apparently saw fit to groom itself before death.
**“I do not believe you creature. For time immeasurable heroes have come here seeking glory and riches. Which king has promised you gold, titles or his daughter? Where is your weaponry hidden!?”**
“I.. I, please, listen!”
**“Then what do you seek!?”** I thundered, I always thundered when angry. It was a gift. **“You seek power? Wisdom? A pact with the magical beast?”**
“I want to understand!” He yelled. I was stunned. Quietly, I blinked. The silence stretched as I waited for him to continue. “The world has changed my Lord.” He stammered, attempting reason in the face of fear. “You have not been seen in the outside world in centuries.”
**“Then I have slept for longer than I thought.”**
“I… we, we don’t even have a King anymore.” The man was babbling, it made no sense.
**“The King is dead? Then who rules?”**
“We… we vote. We have a parliament you see… and we elect representatives who, erm, they act on behalf of the people and…”
**“Enough. Tell me why you are here, Morsel.”**
“I want to show you the world, the new world. We have done, seen so much these last few centuries. Here… look!” the man reached into his pockets, withdrawing an odd, circular device with moving rods. “It’s a pocket watch! It… measures time.” I had to admit, the little thing was fascinating, and oddly pretty.
**“I want it.”**
“Yes, yes, of course.” He set it gently on the pile. “Please, my lord. The world is not what you knew, our new railways span the continent taking men as fast as the dra… crow flies. We have explored the corners of our globe and explained much that we could not understand.
**“Then what do you seek?”**
“I seek wonder my lord. I seek your majesty and power, your awe and magnificence. The world is a shrinking place, one in which every mystery will soon be uncovered, where children will have nothing to imagine and everything to learn. I need you to teach us.”
**“To teach you?”**
“That we are not masters of this world.”
| Drawing myself to full height, I prepared to roast the man alive for his folly.
"Wait wait wait, you like gold right?" he inquired nervously, "That's what they all say about the mighty Akoratraxis, just mad about his gold."
"You dare to mock me here, in my own lair? What a fool you must be, have the townsfolk run out of brave warriors, that they now send jesters?" Oh for the good old days, when knights would enter on virtuos quests with glinting plate, talking was such a bother. Below him the man trembled, visibly.
"Oh my goodness no," he tittered nervously, "not mocking, just establishing a report." He stretched out a palm, before seemingly realising that any attempt at a handshake would likely crush him under its weight. He drew it back quickly and began to wring his hands in discomfort. I stared, silently, intrigued. Stammering, he continued with a speech that he had clearly rehearsed several times.
"It's just that you've got quite a lot of gold, and you're not really putting it to use here, in a cave, sitting around."
"It is my prize mortal, the reaping from the deaths of thousands and the toppling of empires. Would you deny me that right?" I snorted flame from my nostrils, that always put the fear into them. It succeeded. But strangely the man continued, unabated.
"Nope, not at all, deaths of thousands got it. Cities ablaze, right-o. But what if I told YOU, that you could double, nay, **triple** your earnings in just a few seasons time, without lifting a talon!" He grinned sheepishly, palms raised imploringly towards me.
"Triple you say?" More flame.
"Did I say triple?" he squealed, "I meant quintuple."
"Go on." The man seemed taken aback, dumbstruck for a second, as though his preparations had not progressed beyond this point. But then, all of a sudden, a vigour seemed to fill him from the inside, the same sort of thing that I had noticed countless times before, it was self-assurance, although this kind was not clad in mail, but perhaps instead, in inspiration.
"Alright! Well, how about this then. You've got gold, most of the gold in the old kingdom, in fact, but what then? You sit and wait with it? What if we put that gold to work for you?"
"I do not understand, gold has no will, no hands? How does it work? Are you a sorcerer?"
"No, not literally work, but it pays people *to* work. At the moment they're all hiding in fear, but if we take the gold-"
"Take my gold?!"
"Or just a portion of it! If we take *some* gold from the pile, then we can turn that small, tiny insignificant amount of gold, into much much more. And you don't have to do anything at all."
"You lie, you would have me give you a part of my horde and then run for the hills! How does the coin triple? Answer me that!"
"Quintuple," the man reminded him, "and there are lots of ways! Maybe we use the gold to pay people to make clothes for people on the New Shorelands, and then those people pay us more for it because our tailors can perfect their craft without having to rush to finish? Maybe we take a big pile of gold like a hundred or so pieces in a chest, and tell the whole kingdom that *they* could win it if their name comes out of a hat, we could call it a *hat draw*, but we take a gold piece off everyone who enters, there'd surely be thousands of people so that's profit right there!"
Now I was dumbstruck. The man misconstrued this as anger.
"Or you know! If you don't like that! We could just pay townspeople to mine lots of gold, and bring it to you, rather than hiding?"
"And what is to stop these people from fleeing with my treasures."
"I'm glad you asked, I've spoken to the prince and bishop and the local lords and they're actually quite keen, because it means they can build bridges and castles and things, and as for the serfs, well, if you're regularly giving out the gold, then why would people want to risk that for whatever they can carry? If its coming once with every full moon, then over a lifetime everyone's making more than they could possibly steal. Plus, if we're helping you make more gold, you wouldn't want to burn us all to death, right?"
He grimaced, as if unsure how I would respond. I reached out towards him with a razor sharp, talon watching the sweat bead from his forehead as I did so. Stretching down my slender, jewel encrusted neck, I lowered my reptilian eyes until they were directly level with the man's. I wondered...
"Tell me more about this 'hat-draw'?" | 2015-10-14T01:28:24 | 2015-10-14T00:29:33 | 46 | 13 |
[WP] Leonardo DiCaprio is actually an evil warlock who needs to obtain a rare mineral in order to complete a dark ritual. The only source of this mineral is found inside an Academy Award. You are part of an ancient order sworn to deny Leonardo an Academy Award, at any cost.
Gee this blew up! These are great responses thank you so much! :) | "This years Academy Award for best actor won't be given to Leonardo DiCaprio due to necessary diversity quota targets being missed. Instead it will be awarded to a gay, chinese-american, HIV+, trans-gender-bi liberal arts graduate who holds an african-american belt in karate." Announced the Order representative presiding over the academy awards ceremony.
With great confusion, the star of The Revenant replied... "What? That's ridiculous."
"Ridiculous? Diversity is RIDICULOUS to you, DiCaprio? Not only is he a white cis-gender male, he is racist." said the order.
Suddenly, black lives matter protesters appear from everywhere. Blocking all the aisle exits. Police then burst in out of nowhere and start shooting the protestors as is the standard response.
In the confusion, DiCaprio grabs the Academy Award and bites off the head, chews it and swallows. He then takes another bite...
The black lives matter protestors brought uzis and are now shooting back at the police. Since this is America everyone is used to shootings in public places so the audience pays little attention to the gun violence, and instead look with bewilderment at DiCaprio.
"Why would he EAT an academy award?" Shouted one woman to another, as she ducked to avoid gunfire.
"I have no idea!" Replied the other, as she checked her makeup. She couldn't decide if it was the police tear gas or the magic of the evening which caused her eyes to run.
Leonardo took another bite, and his eyes began to glow as he recited Satanic verses.
The order representative at first didn't know what to do, but when he noticed DiCaprio reciting *religious words on public television* he immediately sprang into action - "You can't do that DiCaprio! No one religious denomination can be exclusively represented at this awards ceremony."
Completely ignoring the lamb being sacrificed on stage in a pool of virgins blood, the order representative continued "DiCaprio, I....Oh, never mind I didn't realise you were on stage Mr. Sharpton."
...Leonardo DiCaprio had completed the first stage of the great dark ritual, transforming himself into a racially divisive black man.
Yeah I have no idea where the fuck I'm going with this. |
The stairs seemed to have multiplied over night, I could feel the shirt on my back dampening, 134, 135, 136....137, finally. I reach into my pocket for the key ring, I really have to do something about this, I mean just cause I have to hide this place doesn't mean it has to be stuck in 1823.
The keys all look the same but the one I'm looking for has that ugly crow engraved on it. I find it and stare at it for a second, it really is one ugly ass crow.
They were doing that remake of "The Crow" at relativity, I always liked that movie, I wonder if appian could pick it up now that they've gone under hmmm...I open the door, my mind occupied with casting this imaginary movie.
The scream was so loud I nearly fell down the stairs, She's been testy lately but this was ridiculous. I gathered my self and walked in the room and looked at the giant venus fly trap snapping repeatedly.
"It's ok my sweet, don't worry, it will happen, I promise"
The intimidating plant turned its head, it has no eyes but sometimes it feels like it's staring right at me.
"TA...WEN..TEE YAARS" it roared..
"I know my sweet but this is it, this is my year, I mean there really isn't any competition, Fassbender has that 3 act experiment that maybe 3 people actually paid attention to, Redmaynes picture was mediocre and they'll never give it to him 2 years in a row and Cranston was basically a pity nod, there is no way I lose it this year."
"DA..A..MON" It said while wheezing.
"Are you kidding me? God, don't insult me , the guy delivered nerdy jokes for 90 minutes and grew some potatoes, I slept in a fucking horse."
I walk over to my work station and sit down, I've made her wait too long, it's time the world learns its purpose, the purpose it has forgotten. I look at the manuscript in front of me, the pages are so delicate and the writing in them has started to fade, I carefully flip to page 341, like I do every day and stare at it.
I mouth the heading to my self.
"End of darkness, trapped in gold"
underneath it a detailed diagram, with vivid explanations of how that worm, that underling, that piece of filth, Mel Gibson, trapped her. She was in her prime, she had just begun to form, just begun to realize her power. Thinking about it makes me uncontrollable, I must focus.
I will make it right, I have reduced that insufferable piss ant to the scum he really is and now no one can stop me.
Andora will rule again.
| 2016-01-19T01:56:27 | 2016-01-19T01:38:12 | 80 | 41 |
[WP] Write a story about something you don't understand. Do NO research. Make everything up as you go.
**Possible subjects:**
*Fly-Fishing
*Open-Heart Surgery
*Supply-Management in the Canadian Dairy Industry
*Making Hollywood Movies
*Guidance Counselling for High School Students
*Storm Chasing
*Electrical Repair in High-Rise Buildings
*The Large Hadron Collider
*Love
EDIT: Oh God, what have I done? | *A Single Play in American Football as Interpreted by a Foreigner who has Never Seen a Game*
"Hut two, twenny-two, hut!" The first quarterback shouted, eyes gleaming with passion as he stared around at his team. They were all lined up in such a way as to form the basic shape of a ziggurat from above, thus reflecting the Native American roots of American Football. Or possibly a pyramid, as in the scheme used by the first owners of NFL teams to raise capital, it was hard to tell.
All the other quarterbacks roared and started to run, one of them hiding the ball so the other team's quarterbacks couldn't take it. The kickers of both teams remained on the sidelines, attempting to chat up members of the crowd while they waited for their turn.
The quarterbacks all collided, red team against other, statistically less likely to be victorious, team.
As predicted, the red quarterback with the ball managed to get his shoulder under the other one, lifting with his legs and spin flipping the not-red player off to land on his head on the grass. The eagerly watching cameras zoomed in, ready to slow-mo and replay and reverse and remix and use in ad campaigns with shouty voice overs. The fans not wearing red in the crowd booed and threw their beer cups - which were still red despite that clashing with their outfits because all beer cups in America are.
The red quarterback with the ball sprinted for the end of the pitch, spare players from the other team ritually throwing themselves to the ground in humiliation as he passed, indicating their unworthiness.
Finally he reached the white line, and had only to complete his scoring by nailing a predetermined dance routine. First, he placed down the ball, then did a series of jazz hands, blowing on them intermittently to indicate that they were "too hot".
At this point, the rest of the red quarterbacks joined him, and launched into an innovative and bold line dance/cancan combo. While the first quarterback was naturally the lead, the support from his teammates made the difference, and the judges ruled that their dance was sufficient to earn points.
In celebration, the red kicker paused his attempts to get the numbers of the entirety of Row J, and shot up the ball to indicate that red team had scored. It flew up and landed on the other side of the advertising sculpture for hemarrhoid cream (H - for those moments of fiery agony) and the red fans went wild, particularly when they saw images of them were being displayed on the security blimp that floated above the stadium. | The heavy double doors swung outward as the doctor rushed into the waiting room. A worried woman released her grip on her mother's hand and stood to face the look of distress expressed in front of her.
"Mrs. Duval, I'm afraid your husband's injuries are just too serious to avoid immediate surgery. If you want to see him walk out of the hospital, open heart surgery will be required."
A heavy look of grief clouded the woman's face as she stared into the doctor's honest eyes. She solemnly agreed that it was the only solution, and returned to her mother, tissues in hand.
Hours later, the doctor was ready and prepped for surgery. Mr. Duval was wheeled into the surgery room and hooked up to a number of machines. A team of 5 doctors were on staff in the room, all sterile and ready at a moments notice. A sturdy looking man walked into the room, identified himself as the surgeon, and assured the staff that this man would leave the hospital on his feet.
With a small blade, the surgeon cut a large incision into Mr. Duval's chest, cutting deep into the skin, muscle and tissue, then pulled the skin away to reveal what was underneath. The cause of the heart failure was still not known, so they were forced to cut deeper. The surgeon carefully cut away two of Mr. Duval's ribs to access the full area of the heart. He wiped the sweat off his brow, as seeing the beating heart of a man is not something one usually shrugs off. He made a further incision into the heart, where immediately, blood began gushing out in gallons. The doctors were quick to notice the quickening beeps coming from the various machines around the room, and jumped to stop the blood geyser. That's when the surgeon knew what happened; he hadn't cut into the wrong spot, but rather, Mr. Duval's arteries were nearly ready to burst. They had to have been clogged for ages, and had stretched thin trying to get blood to flow into the heart.
The doctors had successfully stopped the flow of blood, and backed away to allow the surgeon to continue. He moved away from the heart and moved to a stretched artery. He cut into the part where it was bulging, and watched in disgust as an unidentifiable pus-like liquid excreted from the cut. It only released maybe a teaspoon of it. But it was enough to shrink the artery down to normal size. The surgeon cleaned the sun and sewed it tightly back together, then continued on the rest of the arteries.
Multiple hours passed without break, but eventually, Mr. Duval was sewn back up and moved to another room to rest. Two weeks later, just as the surgeon had promised, Mr. Duval walked out of the hospital on his own two feet.
Thanks for reading, let me know if you enjoyed it. It's my first WP as a long time lurker, glad to have finally contributed!
| 2016-02-02T00:31:42 | 2016-02-01T23:42:44 | 147 | 17 |
[WP] God shares the cosmos with several other dieties. To pass the time they play Civilization like games for eons. God's frustrated that his civilization, Earth, is several ages behind all his friends. | Dexicon moved his cosmic fortress from Centauri B straight into Earth's orbit. Dexicon was able to do this in one turn thanks to the cosmic paving it had laid earlier. This allowed faster than light travel.
"Your move, God." Dexicon roared, knowing it had the ancient deity in its proverbial palm.
*Shit shit shit* thought God. It was tough to display no emotion but a strong poker face was crucial. Dexicon had already taken Zeermon out the game and had now moved on to God.
God had not been blessed with much luck. Each deity had been given a species that had space travel potential. The objective was to either enslave or obliterate the other species. God had unfortunately randomised the least intelligent possible species - homo.
2.7 million years just to leave the hunter gatherer stage. This was a new record. He had had to wipe out his first few species of homo and start over - they had simply been too stupid. By the time he had rerandomised into homo-sapien he was at least 2.6 million years behind Dexicon.
What didnt help was that the homo-sapiens turned out to be incredibly aggresive. This would be useful for fighting other species, but they mainly killed each other! Oh how Dexicon and Zeermon laughed!
When he had finally researched the abilty to send a vassel to Earth to enlighten and guide the people, the earthlings did something unprecedented in stupidity - they decided to kill it.
Finally the humans became space able. At the time, God was pleased. They visited their local moon first, as expected. But the moon base never came. The colonisation of nearby planets never came. They regressed.
"Using your cosmic paving I move Earth into alpha Centuri B", said God, in a move that would have made the humans proud.
Dexicon's mouth dropped.
"Rematch?" God asked.
--------
If you liked this you can read more on my sub I just set up (come follow me!): /r/nickofnight
| "I still say it's cheating that you sent your son down there." Lord Lamux was noticeably worried that God's people would soon crack the human genome. He was in danger of being over taken by God during the inevitable exponential growth that would soon occur. His protests were well founded, the rules clearly stated that while they were allowed to send prophets and disciples that the deities themselves were not allowed to go to earth and far too many of his people agreed that Jesus was God.
"If I had to start over every time that someone claimed they were God I'd still be building arks over here." God was in no mood for complaints about fair play. He had already started over once when he smote the dinosaurs, then again when he had been hamstrung by a technicality when his own people started worshiping multiple Gods before him spiraling his score in reverse.
"This is what you get for giving them free will. See my Lamuxes? Working tirelessly, they stay right on a task until I move them to the next one." Lord Lamux was proud of his degree of control that his puppet people expressed. They worked and played as instructed and were happy about it as instructed. Everything went as planned.
"You mean unless you move them to the next one. They don't do a thing unless you tell them. I'm able to sit back and let them get to work on their own." Free will meant they did what they wanted, but at least they did something. Lamuxes were notorious for plateauing for hundreds of years with out progress.
"On their own? You've had this one meditating under a Bodhi tree for months now. What's he doing that so important?" Lord Lamux never saw the benefit of individuals and relied almost entirely on group efforts as formed his society. This had worked well as the group consistently created reliable results. But lately God's apes had a few breakthroughs. "And even when they do important things they do them for stupid reasons. Why the hell do they keep going back to Mars? Do they think they missed something? And they're accepting gay marriage for tax and health care purposes!"
"Let them do their thing and find their way." God knew that if they learned to come to terms with each other and their place that when they finally met Lord Lumoxes puppets in their travels that they would more easily learn to accept them... or enslave them.
| 2022-09-11T19:19:52 | 2016-04-09T08:09:07 | 1,980 | 17 |
[WP] You are reading stories about an asylum in the early 1900s and realize that one of the patients with "time traveler syndrome" is actually you. | Collette stared at the computer with a blank expression, if there was one thing she hated it was research papers.
*Fine, I know they said not to use Wikipedia, but google scholar is bound to get something.*
She glanced down at her notebook where she had scribbled down “time traveler syndrome”
“I hate abnormal Psych” she said out loud, to basically no one, as she continued through her notes. Typing the search terms into google the first article she came across was about an institution that was opened in 1902 that had two very interesting individuals who were being held. Both were reportedly diagnosed with what the doctors coined as TTS or Time Traveling Syndrome. One was a male early twenties, while the other was a female in her very late teens. *Edmonton Hall...Why does that sound familiar?*
*Interesting* Collette thought to herself as she opened the article. After reading through it she laughed *more like schizophrenia, the delusions are hysterical*. Disappointed on the fact the article did not give as much information as she would have liked, she looked into the references to see if there were any others listed. There she found it, a book “Collette and David, The Time Traveler’s Story, 1904” “HA!” she said out loud getting a few glances from others in the library *How Ironic that not only is a crazy person with my name, her male counterpart has my boyfriend’s name, maybe we’ll be the Collette and David of 2017.*
She went to the librarian and asked if they had the book on file, but of course she knew the answer would be no, as it was rare. The librarian looked up at her as she approached and smiled warmly “no, we don’t have the book, but I know of a library that does” she said before Collette even had a chance to ask. “Direct me, I guess?”
The next day getting the directions from the librarian she left school a touch early and drove out to the old Edmonton Estate Library, which she clearly recognized as being the former institution. Showing her ID to the guard along with the written reference from the librarian garnered a reaction she was not expecting. The guard tipped his hat to her, and apologized, while leading her towards the room where the book was. Getting it in her hands, she nearly collapsed as she opened it and saw a picture of herself, and her boyfriend, both bound in straightjackets. “No way” she said as she looked towards the guard who himself seemed to be in shock.
“My grandfather told me about you, always said that in this year I should wait to see if you arrived, if what you had said was true” he said, voice shaking
“Apparently what they did, what you said, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, if you can think of anyway to save yourself now…”
“This makes for a very interesting paper, shame the class sucks” Collette replied glancing down at the book. “I can’t decide if this is some elaborate prank, or the beginning of my worst nightmare”
“Let me show you around, you aren’t meddling in unknown sciences are you?”
“no…” she stopped for a second remembering that David had told her about a secret project he wanted her to help him with “but I know who is… tell me, did this Collette have issues with the person she was found with?”
The guard laughed “Did she? She tried to murder him! It was how they were first found”.
“Interesting”, she glanced back at the book and it looked like some of the wording had changed on the table of contents “I must handle myself differently by the looks of that” she said to the guard, who only looked at her confused.
She sat down with the book “Admitted on the Seventh of December, in the year Nineteen hundred and three”
“Ok, do you have a photocopier or something here?” she asked the guard who had just sat down and was on the phone
“yes grandfather, they were speaking the truth, she’s here, the girl is here!”
“oh, great… just what I need, look I think I’ll just be goi…” her phone cut her off
“Hello?”
“Colle, I did it! You need to come to my house now, you’ll never believe it, but its possible”
Suddenly it all clicked
“David, look… test it more without me first, I just… I don’t want to time travel, not safe”
“How did you know? And it is safe! Ah, ok, I’ll call you when I get back!”
With that he hung up, suddenly the guard looked at Collette confused but continued on his phone “yes, I know I was saying she was here, but I don’t remember who she is, or why” he said.
Glancing at the book the title had changed, in gold writing on cover was written “David Berringer, Time Traveler”
On the inside cover was just a picture of him, and under it was written “She knew didn’t she, she somehow knew”
| >Psychological profile of patient #561 Vladevski Dastovsky.
*This was it.* he thought, blowing the dust off the decennial documents. He was sitting inside an abandoned warehouse, light shining through small cracks in the cement walls. A droplet of sweat fell from his forehead, landing on the ragged piece of paper.
All of his research has led up to this moment, ever since the old lady had recognized him at the local pool. She had screamed things at him, calling him psycho, and a maniac. He had been confused and scared, wondering how this seemingly sweet lady could call him by these terrible names.
It begun with a quick stroll to library, searching for documents about the asylum the old lady had supposedly worked at. He had found some documents about a home for people with bad psychological disorders. The asylum was named after the famous psychologist Kurt Ertzing, based in the northern parts of Germany in the early 1900s.
He booked tickets immediately, the first train to Germany from Moscow. He arrived tired and burned out, due to intense studying on the wagon. He went from house to house searching for a place to stay in the coming storm.
He found logic at the local library. *Fine* he thought, *they'll have some more papers about the asylum surely.*
The nice lady who owned it, and had offered him a place to stay, gave him a peek in the old, dark and also secret basement, filled with information about the patients of the old asylum.
*A, B, C, D, E...* he skipped through the alphabet until he reached V. *Vladevski Dastovsky, here we go.* he told himself. He backed towards the table, into a human standing behind him.
The person behind him quickly grabbed him, and turned him around. He was built strong, and wore a uniform, resembling the one the German soldiers used to wear. Behind him there was another man, in a white labcoat. He looked rather slim, with his glasses leaning slightly towards the right.
The man told him that they were about to conduct some experiments, he told him that they were harmless, but the slightly tilted disturbing smile on his lips told him otherwise.
He screamed no, hitting the man holding him, making him lose his grip. He ran past the coated fella up the stairs, with the strong man in uniform quickly following him.
The night turned into dawn, and the chase was still on.
*I got to know the truth* he thought, being exhausted by thinking only, *I'm going to read the document* he told himself.
When he escaped the uniform clad guy, he managed to grab the documents before running past the lab guy. He stopped inside the nearest available abandoned spot; a warehouse.
>Psychological profile of patient #561 Vladevski Dastovsky.
>561 arrived yesterday, early in the morning. He was captured screaming in the streets, threatening people to kill them if they didn't tell him where he was.
>He claimed to come from the future, by some kind of wicked experiment.
>These claims was quickly dismissed, and treatment began for "the time-travel syndrome" named after this patient.
>Traits: #561 is highly aggresive. Doesn't respond to treatment. Paranoid. He doesn't trust anyone.
>Final conclusion: I'm sending #561 to the electrical chair for an execution, as he doesn't respond to treatment.
>Evaluated by: Dr. Kurt Ertzing.
The document ended there, sending a shiver to his spine. A black silhouette appeared behind him and grabbed him. The silhouette put a syringe into his arm, making him really tired.
Another person appeared infront of him, it was the lab coated fella from earlier.
He inhaled and begun to talk:
"Mr. Dastovsky, we have captured you for no other explanation but to experiment on you. We have prepared the first of many tests of a highly revolutionary device."
*I know exactly what device you're talking about, you old bastard!* he said to himself.
"Oh I don't believe I've intruduced myself, right?" the lab coated guy exclaimed.
"I'm Dr. Kurt Ertzing, owner of the abandoned asylum up on the hill over there."
He forced himself to look to the direction the fragile man pointed his bony fingers towards.
The asylum stood there, almost fully wrecked. Black birds circled the old establishment, making it look like a scene from a horror movie.
"But yo-o-ou're dead." was the only words he had energy for.
"Well, there's the trick, in 1902, I created the very first working time machine, sending myself forwards in time to this year. The only problem is I can't go back, the machine didn't work reversed. That's why I have spent my years trying to create a reversed version of my previous invention, but I need a testing bunny now that it's finished."
The doctor looked just as tired as I was.
"And a slight sidenote... You can't escape and it will work. I know that since I was there, in 1901 when you arrived."
Then I fainted.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hope you liked it, worked a long time on this! Well, long time by my *noob-standards*. A couple misspellings and reused words will be common as I'm not a native english speaker. Thanks for reading!
EDIT: Changed "brain researcher" (That I learned isn't a word) to psychologist.
| 2016-05-10T15:27:54 | 2016-05-10T14:29:21 | 44 | 29 |
[WP] You were born with a birth mark the shape of a "9" on your wrist, one day you get in a fatal car accident. You wake up in a strange room and the first thing you notice is the 9 has changed to an 8 | It was my fault he died. They weren't pressing charges, cause I'm just a kid and it was pretty much an accident. But it was still my fault. Which begs the question:
Was my birthmark counting down my lives or the lives of others? There were only two ways to test my hypotheses, but both could prove fatal. Either I could kill myself and live or kill someone else and finish the countdown quickly.
I tried to think of anything else when I left the hospital. I covered my mark. I didn't want my parents to see that I'd changed. I didn't want them to know that I was slowly, silently plotting a fully fledged murder. I couldn't bring myself to suicide. But I figured I could probably get away with murder.
I didn't know his name, but he lived under a bridge by the train tracks. He was old and senile. We all called him Troll-Hobo or Trolbo for short. I didn't come up with it. Nobody in town would be missed less.
He always rooted through a dumpster behind a Chinese place nearby. I planted a half-finished raspberry iced tea, because I figured he hadn't had anything so sweet in a long time. A few pellets of rat poison would do the trick.
I watched feverishly while he rummaged through the garbage. When he found the drink, he was ecstatic. He looked around, and I was afraid he'd see me in my hiding spot. I guess he did find such a luxury suspicious. Still, I breathed easy when he put it in his pack. He didn't drink it right away...
I followed him back to the bridge as he sang something to himself. I watched as he unpacked his garbage. He pulled out the drink...
"I know you're there, sonny."
My stomach dropped. I geared up to sprint.
"Don't run, come have a drink with me," Trolbo said.
I would have run, but his voice was suddenly sharp. I don't think I could have outrun him at that moment.
"You're the boy who was just in that car accident. A real tragedy, what happened to that man," Trolbo said. He slowly uncapped the drink. I couldn't move.
"Manslaughter is a tricky sentence. It gets more difficult to prove as you get older," Trolbo continued. He raised the bottle to his lips and paused.
My heart thundered. A birthmark "2" stood out plainly on his wrist.
He turned the bottle over and drained the deadly contents.
"You're just starting," he said. "I'm afraid this one was always destined to be a stalemate." | As far as I could remember I always had this weird little mark, in the peculiar shape resembling number 9 on the inside of my wrist. Or 6 if you were to look at it upside down. I paid no mind to it, although it was a running joke in my family for me to raise my arm in the air with a stern image on my face, as if I am a judge at the Olympics giving my score of an event. Nine out of ten, that's the only score I could give, and so I used it accordingly; whenever a splendid story would be told, or whenever mother would ask me to rate her cuisine.
Nothing splendid came out of the eve of my 25th birthday; when in a fit of drunken stupor me and my friends decided to drive the twenty one miles away to our buddies cottage. The bar crawl beforehand resembled tired, yet relentless army of slugs desolating one branch of ripe garden bush after another. Lit up, and without a care in the world we got into Fred's truck and yelling and fighting inside like a group of hungry rats in a cage, we drove on and on towards our unfortunate destination.
The bus appeared suddenly. I doubt its passengers noticed, or gave a care about us before hand; yet in the aftermath of the crash we found ourselves in rather intimate, though, uncomfortable positions; our flesh intermingled with theirs, protruding bones digging into a fellow neighbors flesh, and vice versa. I only remember calling out for my mother before succumbing to the overflowing darkness that enveloped me...
I awoke some time later in a completely dark room, my body throbbing with pain I never thought possible. My throat gave a light moan, and I didn't recognize my own voice.
Where am I? What happened? What time is it?
Hazy little details started popping up in my memory, as I pieced together the last time I was conscious. I recalled being in car crash, a car crash serious enough to never wake up from; yet here I was. With so many questions racing through my head, I distinctly realized that whatever this was, it could not be the afterlife. There is no fucking way such pain could exist. Even in the darkest pits of hell that I deserved.
A voice boomed as sudden as the lamps lighting up the room.
"Hello Jerry. I've been watching you."
"Who is this?" I mumbled softly "Can I ... water?"
"Well I don't Jerry, can you water indeed?"
"DAD?!?" I sat up so suddenly that my conscience left me at once, chased away by a thousand shards or pain ripping through my body.
I awoke on what I presumed was the next day, or week; time is of no consequence to drunkards like me. The room was brightly lit, just like the last time I remembered it. A faint recollection of my dad's voice came back to me; but I merely waved it away as a silly nuisance; my father died before I was born. In all likelihood it was just an auditory hallucination; a rather frequent guest in my mind ever since I started drinking heavily after mother's uncanny death...
A little dried out, tbc later I guess...
| 2016-08-03T20:39:27 | 2016-08-03T19:53:57 | 36 | 26 |
[WP] You were born with a birth mark the shape of a "9" on your wrist, one day you get in a fatal car accident. You wake up in a strange room and the first thing you notice is the 9 has changed to an 8 | It was my fault he died. They weren't pressing charges, cause I'm just a kid and it was pretty much an accident. But it was still my fault. Which begs the question:
Was my birthmark counting down my lives or the lives of others? There were only two ways to test my hypotheses, but both could prove fatal. Either I could kill myself and live or kill someone else and finish the countdown quickly.
I tried to think of anything else when I left the hospital. I covered my mark. I didn't want my parents to see that I'd changed. I didn't want them to know that I was slowly, silently plotting a fully fledged murder. I couldn't bring myself to suicide. But I figured I could probably get away with murder.
I didn't know his name, but he lived under a bridge by the train tracks. He was old and senile. We all called him Troll-Hobo or Trolbo for short. I didn't come up with it. Nobody in town would be missed less.
He always rooted through a dumpster behind a Chinese place nearby. I planted a half-finished raspberry iced tea, because I figured he hadn't had anything so sweet in a long time. A few pellets of rat poison would do the trick.
I watched feverishly while he rummaged through the garbage. When he found the drink, he was ecstatic. He looked around, and I was afraid he'd see me in my hiding spot. I guess he did find such a luxury suspicious. Still, I breathed easy when he put it in his pack. He didn't drink it right away...
I followed him back to the bridge as he sang something to himself. I watched as he unpacked his garbage. He pulled out the drink...
"I know you're there, sonny."
My stomach dropped. I geared up to sprint.
"Don't run, come have a drink with me," Trolbo said.
I would have run, but his voice was suddenly sharp. I don't think I could have outrun him at that moment.
"You're the boy who was just in that car accident. A real tragedy, what happened to that man," Trolbo said. He slowly uncapped the drink. I couldn't move.
"Manslaughter is a tricky sentence. It gets more difficult to prove as you get older," Trolbo continued. He raised the bottle to his lips and paused.
My heart thundered. A birthmark "2" stood out plainly on his wrist.
He turned the bottle over and drained the deadly contents.
"You're just starting," he said. "I'm afraid this one was always destined to be a stalemate." | Oh fuck, that *did* hurt like a bitch. Shouldn't have drank that last couple shots of vodka.
I sat up, gave myself a few moments to adjust back into consciousness, staring down at nothing in particular. My head just hurts too much for me to even lift it to a normal position.
My wrist also hurts. Did Larry fucking broke my wrist or something?
I moved my wrist, still feeling the sharp pain, but no bruising or swelling, just the constant stinging sensation. Like needles puncturing my wrist at an extremely high speed, leaving an excruciating pain, numbed by too much alcohol.
I tried to move it again, turning it in a different direction, this was when I realised there's something different, something horribly wrong, about the whole situation.
The birthmark on my wrist wasn't the same as yesterday.
What the fuck happened? It was a birthmark, how can the shape changed from a 9 to something that resembles an 8? Is this for real?
Did I got a laser job done on it while I'm drunk? Or was it some kind of tattoo? Something like the Hangover?
I bent my neck forward a little bit more, lifted the wrist up, and gave it some more examination with my squinted eyes.
It's really not a tattoo or a laser job, the thing really just *changed*.
How can this even happen? I can't even.
It was a *birthmark*. Or supposed to be. Birthmarks don't just *change*.
I don't even want to think about whether a Voldemort have been secretly living in my body for the past 23 years.
Okay, don't panic. Think.
What happened after that last drink? The toilet.
What happened after the toilet? Manny and Joel were calling a taxi to get home. I got on the taxi with them.
What happened in the taxi?
Oh god. What happened in the taxi?
*That* happened. A truck hit the taxi.
I don't remember any blood. I don't even remember leaving the seat. The last thing I saw was that truck, those big, bright lights.
And the only pain I'm experiencing is the headache and that sting on the wrist.
Which the pain was starting to get a bit irritating at this point.
Where the bloody hell am I anyway? Narnia?
The room look nothing familiar, the sheets are too rough, less thread count than the ones I owned; there's literally nothing in the room other than the bed, myself, the purple wooden door with a golden doorknob, and the blank pale blue wall.
I don't know this place, not even from a dream or a story.
Everything felt too real to be a nightmare of any sort, unless I'm in Matrix or whatever, then yes, this all would be legit.
But no. Not a good time to think about this. I probably should figure out a way to leave this room at least, so even I'm stuck in a gap between dimensions or whatever sci-fi stuff, I would have the knowledge of my resting place.
So, as all normal people would. I went and tried to turn the knob.
| 2016-08-03T20:39:27 | 2016-08-03T20:23:35 | 36 | 17 |
[WP] Your girlfriend has always hated you, and is constantly making attempts to ruin your life. However, everything she does inadvertently makes your life better. Today, ever oblivious, you propose to her. | "Rita, I want to tell you something."
"Yes, shit-stain!", she said, not looking up from her book on "How to kill a man in fifty-five days". Her nick names were hilarious. "Shit stain". I mean how great was that.
"It is important, Rita."
"Get on with it."
Her nonchalance was irritating, but I knew it had some hidden purpose. Maybe she knew I was nervous and was trying to feign casualness? Yes, that was it. Still, I wanted her attention.
"We need to talk. About our relationship, I mean."
"Are you breaking up with me?", she said, looking up. I could see a fanatical gleam in her eyes. Oh, how she loved me.
"No. No. No. I mean we have been seeing each other for a year now.", I started, "And in that time you have saved my life, helped me progress in my career and everything."
I remembered when she had forced me to spend thousands of dollars on lottery tickets. Thanks to her we were now millionaires. And when she had called my boss and asshole, which had resulted in other woman in our department to tell on his sexual harassment. When she had left the gas on, dealing with all the people after our money. It had all seemed inconspicuous, but I was sure that she had my best interests at heart. And a very very sharp mind. I loved her, but still, this was a conversation I had to have.
"And I want to marry you. But I have to tell you something before, that you may not li.."
"Stop right there", she said as she quickly removed her skirt, standing naked before me
A gasp escaped me as I saw her. How could she have known? Had Dr. Futuere Alterno told her? I had just had my operation. She, no, it was now 'he' was the perfect man for a woman like me.
| She looked over at him with distain. His bubbly laugh and those rosy cheeks. How the f@*k was he so happy. She wanted to ruin that childish little frame of his, crush the happiness right out of his soul. She wanted him to feel what the real world was like, her world.
They were at a hockey game (yes, god damn hockey). She was determined to hate every minute of it. Make it unpleasant for him just to be there next to her. She forced him to buy her expensive beer and food, refused to stand for anything including the national anthem(she’s a free person anyways right?), and would not cheer for anything. She complained every moment she could; about how it was too cold in there, too crowded, too loud, too smelly, etc. Nothing seemed to phase him, he seemed to get happier the more she tried to make it unpleasant for him.
The ‘Jumbo-Tron' was showing the f*@king kissometer or some stupid sh@t again, panning from couple to couple forcing them to perform acts of ‘love’ in front of thousands of leering spectators. She rolled her eyes. The kissometer eventually stopped its display of pre-fornication ritual and went dark. The announcer came on over the speakers,
“Tonight is a very special night folks for one lucky couple, a man has something to ask a very special woman in his life, and he wants you all to be a part of it.”
The screen came back on, now focussed on one side of the stadium.
Then the camera panned in on her…..and her boyfriend. Oh…..god no, she thinks, she looks over at him as he stands up from his seat, pulling out a ring box, and getting down onto one knee.
“Mary Jane,”
Her mind is racing: Oh please no….this can’t be happening, sh*t, sh*t, sh*t…..what do I do!?
“you make me the happiest man in the world, I could never be without you”
Then it comes to her. Its brilliant. So simple, why did she never see this before? She tried so hard to ruin him and it was right here in front of her this whole time.
“Will you marry me?” He asks, his alcohol reddened cheeks framing his beaming, loving smile.
She stands up, looks down on him, a victorious smile creeping across her lips.Then she says the thing that will destroy the little dweebs will to live:
“No” | 2016-09-15T15:30:46 | 2016-09-15T14:00:59 | 333 | 51 |
[WP] You and your immortal friends amuse yourselves with practical jokes. Since you're immortal, some of your joke setups take centuries, or even millenia, to execute. | So about 7,000 years ago Ollie dropped a boulder on my head. We were hunter-gatherers then, and he convinced me that there was a herd of red deer in a canyon near our camp. When I went there to check it out, he was on top of the ridge and rolled the boulder off onto me. It took a week for me to claw my way out.
Okay Ollie, funny prank. Ha fuggin' ha. But the thing is, he wouldn't shut up about it. As we progressed through the neolithic era, the bronze age, the iron age, when we were Roman senators, he would bring it up every single time we met.
Maybe it was kinda funny at the time, but not funny enough that I enjoyed hearing about it every week for 5,000 years straight. When our friend Hallie tricked our other friend Marko into being in Pompeii when Mt. Vesuvius erupted it was legitimately hilarious, and even they knew to shut up about it after a few centuries.
When the Renaissance and Enlightenment started in Europe, I finally figured out a way to get back at Ollie. As you can probably guess, being an immortal gets pretty boring. But the Enlightenment was a genuinely exciting time to be alive. I started making friendships with all the scientists and innovators: Newton, Galileo, Bayes, Kepler, Laplace. It was the first time something interesting had happened for me in thousands of years, and I immersed myself in it. When my astronomer buddy Giuseppe Piazzi up in Naples told me about his discovery of asteroids, I knew what to do.
Fast-forward 250 years. NASA's [Asteroid Redirect Mission](https://www.nasa.gov/content/what-is-nasa-s-asteroid-redirect-mission) is nearing completion, and an asteroid plucked from the asteroid belt is on its way to be put in orbit around the moon for further study.
Too bad the mission was doomed to failure from the start. The asteroid wouldn't achieve a stable orbit around the moon and would strike Earth instead. Their calculations for the orbital dynamics were the tiniest infinitesimal fraction of a percent wrong, and they had no way of knowing that. Why not? Guess who has two thumbs and has been subtly introducing tiny errors into every branch of science since its outset ... this immortal!
And, guess who was standing exactly where the asteroid struck, staring up like a dumbass while an asteroid hit him in the face?
Your move, Ollie. | "Order order " Simon yelled above the noise. Banging a rock on the table to drown out the chatter.
As the previous winner he was tasked to head the meeting and make sure we actually presented something and not just drink the whole evening.
"Order order I declare the 2016 Practical jokes meeting of the immortals opened " he banged the rock again just missing James' hand. "As you all know" he started the customary speech we heard hundreds of times and knew by heart "We agreed to this since 1453 majority vote will decide."
"Now who will start?" He glared at us.
"Come on j-man you know you're up first" I said everyone chuckling we still hadn’t forgiven him for his actions when we first met.
He sighed and stood up. He took out his phone and slid a movie up the TV screen at the end of the table. A promotion video for the King Abdullah Economic City began playing.
"I convinced the Saudi king to spend a 100 billion on a city in the desert nobody will live in." His eyes went over us hopeful.
Some clapped.
"Wait didn’t you do the same several years ago when you convinced the Chinese president to build that copy of Paris in the middle of nowhere?" Thomas suddenly said.
Booing followed by some bread quickly made him sit down.
"I have a better one" That was Andrew, last time he won was in the year 2012 when he made people believe the world was going to end.
He swiped and Kim Jong-un’s head popped up the screen with a giant arrow pointing at his hair.
"I talked him into that, and then made it illegal for men to have a different haircut in the whole of North Korea"
A chorus of clapping and “not bad” made him beam with pride.
Time to end this I figured as I stood up and swiped up my presentation.
"Nooo" Matthew yelled pointing at the screen . “I knew it had to be one of us. You got really lucky you know that."
"Luck" I scoffed as others now stared at the screen "You are forgetting who held the Roman Empire together for centuries?" I clicked and the next slides appeared : genealogy records dating back centuries intersected by pictures of the leading men of the country the pièce de résistance was a painted picture of someone that awfully lot looked like him pointing at an old wooden ship named "Santa María" sticking up his thumb.
Most at their mouths were hanging open by now "Over 500 years?" Simon almost stuttered.
I nodded "Yeah finding the land wasn’t that hard getting the right amount of nationalism, zealots, religious fervor and plain desperation was hard to get.
"And the hair “Thad yelled "Tell me that was planned as well"
I simply smiled not wanting to tell that was a freak occurrence in the genetic makeup, well it all worked out in the end.
Behind me my practical joke was blabbering about how he was going to put solar panels on his wall.
| 2017-06-23T00:57:11 | 2017-06-23T00:17:04 | 220 | 35 |
[WP] "humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
Edit: Seems someone has already written a piece perfect for this. Check it out, would highly recommend.
https://eyeofmidas.com/scifi/Turtledove_RoadNotTaken.pdf
Edit 2: Thank you all so much for your stories! im going to read all of them :) | Report 0001 of planetary body designated by natives as 'Earth'.
-----
First and foremost, I am of the opinion that we stay far and away from this world. High command has given me the most advanced ship and the most advanced musket weaponry to survey the world and I feel no more secure here than I would on the edge of a Singularity. We have not the military technology to compete with these so called primitives.
My reasoning is as followed. The speed and ferocity which the natives attack their problems is as terrifying as it is awe inspiring. In just one of their lifetimes, they went from being planetbound to growing spacebound and visiting their local orbiting planetoid. We are lucky that they soon grew disinterested in space travel or I fear we may already have been extinct.
I have been observing these 'Humans' and they are horrifying. They war. They don't just perform it, they revel in it. They grow in it. They crave it so badly that they have warred among themselves since their evolution from primitive life. Even now with the technology to take over the entire universe so close at hand, they are more interested in fighting themselves.
They not only love war, but they love documenting it and sharing particularly 'glorious', as they call it, war among other Humans. I have seen some of these documentaries. A great warrior known as William Smith has shown time and again the ability to overcome impossible odds to annihilate alien species with technology greater than theirs or ours. The depths of space only know the number of species that have fallen at their hand. They seem to make insanely destructive technologies at will and throw them away just as quickly. You will see when you watch the humans as I have.
I have attached a number of specific Human documentaries of particularly worrying content to this report.
I urge High Command. These humans are a sleeping glorpthal, waiting to rise up and devour us. They should not be interacted with. Set up a perimeter around their solar system. Let them think they are alone. Do not rouse their fury, for it will be great and unstoppable.
Attached: Pacific Rim.mp4, Independence Day.mp4, War of the Worlds.mp4, Full Metal Jacket.mp4.
-----
Response to Report 0001 of planetary body Earth.
High Command has received your report and we are in agreement. As such, our most intelligent scientists have come up with a weapon specifically tailored to the Humans. We believe it will cause stagnation in their society. It will remove the threat of Humans as a whole and you needn't stay near Earth any longer. We even believe it will be a kindness upon them as it will reduce their desire to fight among themselves as well. Deploy the weapon to their technological centers and leave.
Attached: "Project Netflix"
-----
Catch more of my work at r/RaistlinMajereWriting | "Humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
The gnarled general gave him a look halfway between amusement and disbelief.
His ears twitched before settling back into their wavy slow pattern.
"You know this how? From the couple of days we've spent here?" the old man asked.
Djerza held the barrel of his musket up, eying the line of its smooth surface for any warps or bends. Ignoring the question.
"Fools, all of you. I thought the Zanta failure would have taught you not to underestimate our enemies."
At this, Djerza sat up and sighed. The quick flash of ears pulling back betraying his anger at the remark.
"The Zanta had help. In any case, this is not a discussion general. We leave tomorrow, have the troops ready."
The general nodded slowly. "I do admire his spirit though, what was it again he said?"
"It is easy for me to die, but difficult to let you pass" Djerza said smiling, his sharp teeth black as night.
-------------------------------------------------
Guns flashed and thundered all around him. The ground itself shaking as pieces of mud flew past him.
Djerza ignored it. The cannons were interesting, primitive but powerful nonetheless. He quickly approached the line of enemy soldiers.
He'd started running after their last volley. With too few soldiers left for staggered shots, he'd have more than enough time to close the distance.
His own musket spent, he charged ahead with the bayonet at head hight. A few steps before impact, he saw the fear spread across their faces.
Fear not just of war and death, but fear of him. Fear of this thing that was barreling towards them and that was decidedly not of their own species.
He howled and lost himself in the bloodlust.
Twelve hours laters, three thousand had fallen. Men, women and children. Even the animals had been killed.
His clothes were dark with earth and soot and clung to his skin where blood had soaked the fabric.
Of course none of his own had fallen. Well at least none of those truly his own. Technically their side had suffered losses, but that was to be expected. He did not really care if these humans died. But they had entertained him well. This passion for killing, he'd not encountered it for a long time.
He heard the general walk up before he saw him. Demon of Dongnae the human soldiers had started calling him. Djerza felt a stab of envy.
But then again, he'd taken Song's head himself, that was no small feat considering the weapons they'd been forced to fight with.
The general finally spoke "It was a good battle my Lord. I assume we will be staying longer?"
They were young and obviously lacking in finesse, but they had so much potential. Humans fought and died with so much vigor. The Hunt would be glorious if they'd just grow up a bit, and his clan would hold the rights.
Djerza twitched his ears in pleasure. "Yes, yes general. I think we will.". | 2017-08-08T08:36:06 | 2017-08-08T07:55:11 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | "What the fuck" I thought to myself. This job was supposed to be boring, given my... powers. This wasn't supposed to happen.
See, I was a bouncer at a bar. I wasn't the most imposing person but I had a unique trait. I could tell anyone's age without seeing a license. The numbers just kind of floated above their heads. I realized I was special at a young age when I asked my fourth grade teacher, mrs. Jimenez, why the new boy was three years older than all of us. We had to have a special meeting with the counselor and my parents. It freaked them out pretty bad when I was able to tell the counselor that I knew she was seven years older than she said (looking back I think she was trying to start a relationship with one of the younger teachers). It took a couple of years to learn to not notice and just live life but I managed to find a way to use it to my advantage when I got this job.
I streamlined the front door, no wasting time carding people, usually I just stood next to Big Jake (he was a left tackle at the local college and an absolute mountain of a man) and told the underage kids to leave before they wasted our time.
Tonight was terrifying though. We expected a rough crowd once a month when we hosted fight night. It was common practice in rural Midwestern towns, usually one or two bars would set up a ring and let local fighters put on the nights entertainment. Typically fight night made us sell out of pbr and bud light, with exactly the crowd you'd expect. We always had to break up two or three extra curricular fights but it was no big deal to me, I never did the dirty work, I protected our liquor license.
This man terrified me though, four digits were hovering over his head. I leaned into Jake and whispered "something's wrong, ask that guy for I.d." The man didn't look strange, except his hair was straight out of the 80's, mutton chop sideburns and all. He wore a leather jacket over jeans.
The expression on Jakes face was pure confusion. He asked the man and he pulled out a Canadian passport, which was strange. It said he was in his 50s, which was also strange because he didn't look a day over 32. I didn't know what to do so we let him in.
He caused no problems, he came to fight and ended up winning two matches and pocketed 200 bucks, drank two beers and left. He barely said a word. The next day I tried to put him out of my mind. By a week later I had gotten past the shock of it and tried to move on, but the next day life got really strange.
I was home for dinner with my parents when the doorbell rang. They answered and several minutes later my mother shouted for me to come into the sitting room. An old man in a wheelchair was sitting there and behind him stood five people, on of whom was the 1000 year old fighter. I was shaken as the old man began to speak, "hello James, my name is Charles Xavier. I believe you've already met my companion Logan..." | 4 digits. For a moment, my degree in mathematics failed me, as I struggled to count the numbers before me. Un, Deux, Trois, Quatre. There was no mistake, though the existence of such a person...frightened me. My vision had always been right, as evidenced by the guilty looks on the minors' faces when I turned them out of the bar. I'd never had to kick someone out for being overage. But 5746 years was a lot of time, far before Anno Domini 1. Was he immortal? A god? Or some old guy with a superpower? I didn't know, and I definitely didn't trust the 'Age: 30' that his ID proclaimed. Maybe my powers had faltered this time. Maybe...
From behind, I saw another man slowly approach me, his IDs in his hands. But as he made eye contact with me, his eyes widened in fear. I saw him whisper into the 4-digit-old man, with visible shock on both faces. That was when I saw the age of the newcomer. 5746.
I tried my best to suppress my shock, though I failed miserably. 1 was surprising enough, but 2? 2 men that had lived for the exact same time from so long ago? I was about to demand an explanation, but one of them beat me to it.
"Why are you 5746 years old?" he questioned, fear in his eyes. I opened my own wide. Could he read ages too? And was I...that old? No. That couldn't be right. I remembered my childhood, the photographic proof of my birh just 28 years ago. But they didn't seem to be lying, and the mention of that 4-digit number again was chilling. What kind of sick joke was my powers pulling? Or were they the ones pulling my leg?
"We've found another suspect, boss," one said into a walkie-talkie. The other drew a gun from his pocket, training the muzzle on my forehead. "What are you doing? You're-" I tried to explain, but he cut me off. "No more words, time traveller. We've waited long enough to catch you and your gang," he replied, smirking as a group of policemen appeared from the darkness. I felt the cool metal slide around my wrists, as I was forced towards the car. "Move!" one of them shouted. That voice...I seemed to recall. The cold handcuffs. The interrogation. Disjointed images flashes before my eyes, as they slowly became clearer, culminating in...
I knew now. But...why were they doing this? Was it a plot to throw of the police? "James!" I shrieked, to the man I'd once been partners in crime with. He chuckled, though I could tell it wasn't just for effect. I saw the twinkle in his eyes, the signature twinkle he gave when he condemned a foe to death. My other pal Aldrich stood by, his eyes conveying his helplessness. James' face wasn't one of friendliness anymore. It was one of animosity and hatred.
"Good riddance," I saw him mouth, as I was shoved into the car. As we drove off, I could still see him, as he advanced slowly towards Aldrich. I closed my eyes in cowardice, though I knew what would happen. What I had feared when I agreed to sacrifice my memories...it had all occured. There was no way back.
Even inside the driving car, I could hear the terrified screams. The circle of betrayal had been completed. | 2022-05-25T21:41:20 | 2017-09-01T22:15:29 | 1,321 | 16 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits. | I stared bleakly at the faintly glowing digits. As if it couldn't get worse, the last number - a five - slowly transformed into a six.
"We have reservations."
The average-looking gentleman put out his hand and I plucked the driver's license out of it automatically. It read like any other I'd looked at tonight; the birthdate was just a few years before mine. The numbers over the woman's head read as twenty seven. Blonde and beautiful, her eyes were stunning and fixated almost entirely on her ancient companion. A man five thousand years her senior.
"Yes," I rasped, from a shock-clogged throat. "VIP room upstairs."
He scowled at me then, and I felt a weight of scrutiny I didn't know could exist. Like a bug under a magnifying glass. In the sun. I winced away from those eyes like they were an assault, and backed out of the way, stumbling over my feet. I had no desire to know this man, but I had the unnerving suspicion that he'd now want to know me.
And that couldn't happen. | 2021-11-13T01:48:11 | 2017-09-01T19:55:18 | 585 | 140 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | "Jesus Christ!"
"Shhh!!!!" The guy whispered with annoyance. "I don't go by that these days. Just here to pick up John. He also doesn't go by that anymore. These days, he's The Dude. You'd think he'd mellow out after all these years, but he's still nuts. Just let me grab his drunk ass and we'll be out of here. And don't tell no one about meeting me. I've heard enough horror stories from my buddy Elvis."
The End. | I stared bleakly at the faintly glowing digits. As if it couldn't get worse, the last number - a five - slowly transformed into a six.
"We have reservations."
The average-looking gentleman put out his hand and I plucked the driver's license out of it automatically. It read like any other I'd looked at tonight; the birthdate was just a few years before mine. The numbers over the woman's head read as twenty seven. Blonde and beautiful, her eyes were stunning and fixated almost entirely on her ancient companion. A man five thousand years her senior.
"Yes," I rasped, from a shock-clogged throat. "VIP room upstairs."
He scowled at me then, and I felt a weight of scrutiny I didn't know could exist. Like a bug under a magnifying glass. In the sun. I winced away from those eyes like they were an assault, and backed out of the way, stumbling over my feet. I had no desire to know this man, but I had the unnerving suspicion that he'd now want to know me.
And that couldn't happen. | 2017-09-01T20:56:44 | 2017-09-01T19:55:18 | 404 | 140 |
[WP] "Fuck it." The General said, as the alien mother-ship came in to land. "Summon Cthulhu." | Thursday, September 21, 2017 - 21:00
The General's men got straight to work. Their entire military careers, these specially trained operatives were preparing for this moment: a code R'lyeh.
One soldier was tasked with acquiring the texts to summon Cthulhu, while another went to acquire the proper objects for the sacrificial ceremony. Those left began to set up the sacrificial table as the General looked on.
Within the hour everything was prepared. The General opened the Necronomicon to the proper chapter, nodding to one of his subordinates as they began to light candles and spill the sacrificial blood onto the table. The ship was coming closer, and the lights of the anti gravitate engines light up the sky.
He began to read.
By the end of the first verse of the General's words, the ground began to shake of its own accord. In an instant the candle flickered out, and the sacrificial blood of the lamb was sucked into the ground. A roaring fire appeared over the table, in which a text began to appear amidst he flames.
The General and his soldiers blocked their eyes from the bright light and the heat. As they adjusted, they looked into the flames of Cthulhu at their last chance to save earth from the invaders.
"I'm sorry to have missed your message. I'll be out of the office until the next purported end of the world, September 23, 2017. I won't have cell reception nor access to email, so if you need me in the meantime, you can leave a message with my secretary at..."
The soldiers, dumbfounded, looked up to the General. In the distance the alien ship touched down, bringing with it a fierce wave of destruction leveling all in its path.
"Well, fuck."
| The fighting had raged for mere hours before everything came crashing down. Their forces were immeasurable, their weapons far beyond humanity's. It was hardly a valiant effort, anything any military tried met with catastrophic failure in minutes.
General Dillian stood on the bow of the ship, he couldn't find the answers for the hundreds of questions that ran by him from the group surrounding him. They were out of options, he knew it, but he refused to let humanity fall to an alien species, to be left at their mercy.
*"Fuck it."* The General said, as the alien mothership came in to land. *"Summon Cthulhu."*
Everyone around him went silent. Hairs stood on end from the mere mention of its name.
*"S-Sir..."*
One of them spoke, *"We won't be able to control-"*
*"I don't give a damn about control. We're on a losing battle, but the war isn't over."* The General snapped. He was well-aware of the consequences. Every treaty that had been formed around the subject stated that The Old Gods would only be used in catastrophic situations as a matter of self-destruction to defeat an enemy... this was such situation.
Everyone hesitated, their hearts were certainly full of fear. They collected their Old Ones manuals, flipping to the page of Cthulhu. In the distance, sirens could be heard. They had a matter of minutes before everything would be over.
*"Ph'nglui..."* The captain said in a shaken voice. Everyone repeated after him.
*"...mglw'nafh... Cthulhu... R'lyeh... wgah'nagl fhtagn!"*
They finished. Everyone went cold, nothing happened for a couple seconds. Just as they thought to start again, the waves parted, and the large, eldritch being had arrived.
Their worst fears, ones they didn't even know they bore, were instantly recognised. On the outside, Cthulhu raged, swiping, thrashing, attacking every ship. They opened fire, but the Old God stood strong.
On the inside, every man who found himself gazing upon Cthulhu had become an empty husk of their former selves.
Madness had fallen. | 2017-09-26T11:47:23 | 2017-09-26T11:13:03 | 168 | 16 |
[WP] "Fuck it." The General said, as the alien mother-ship came in to land. "Summon Cthulhu." | The call had been placed for eons. Cthulhu, his strong influence touching the minds of men, had been trying to summon those who would wake him. Alas, his influence had been hindered by the watchful eye of the worlds governments. Until now.
Faced with the gravest of threats, an alien race who thought letting humanity linger would cause the end of all life in the universe, the governments of earth lifted their world-ender from its slumber.
Rising from the depths of the mysterious ocean, the grave threat to humanity saw the world ending plague about to befall the humans on the earth. It sprung into action, writhing from R'lyeh, Cthulhu the elder guard attacked the threat to *his* planet.
The battle lasted minutes. The armada which had arrived lay in waste. And with the threat to humanity gone, Cthulhu had time to turn his attention where it belonged. To humanity. Nobody razes the earth but Cthulhu. | *translated into English for your consideration*
The alien commander sat in the control room of his flagship, eaglerly awaiting humanities surrender to his mighty alien fleet. The humans had been easily conquered, hardly putting up a fight. A glorious victory this would be, another planet conquered, its resident species soon to be exterminated, its minerals to be harvested. There would be parades and awards given out-
"Commander? We have a problem."
The commander broke out of his day dream. "Yeah? What is it? Just land the damn ship and we can begin invading."
"Well, sir, the humans have begun doing something... odd."
"Well what is it?"
"Outside every city, every capital, hundreds of humans are drawing this red circle onto the ground, and praying inside of it."
"Well? They're panicking. Let them. It'll all be over for them soon."
"Affirmative sir."
As the alien mothership touched down, the commander was giving out a order to release troop-
*and an siren wail screamed inside the control room, as the commander froze, and saw on all cameras a massive fog surrounding the ship, and all landmarks nearby disappeared into the mist, as something appeared to the cameras, and faintly the captain could hear the sound of laughter, whether or not it was the sound of insane colleagues or humans who just released their final card, that the captain would never know, for within the fog he saw something towering, mystical, and above all- ancient.*
| 2017-09-26T11:22:23 | 2017-09-26T11:16:52 | 92 | 42 |
[WP] "Fuck it." The General said, as the alien mother-ship came in to land. "Summon Cthulhu." | "Right sir," his adjutant, Major Thompson replied. He readied his sword and shaved the head clean off the nearest grunt he could find. "Now for the spell..."
The Major wiped his blade clean and drew strange symbols in the blood, mixing it with the cold earth. Minutes passed as he mumbled to himself the insane ramblings of an ancient tongue. He stood and waited.
Rumbling quakes sounded from the west. A monster of a million tentacles, dripping with seawater that normally swirls at fathoms to deep for man to understand, slowly approached. The soldiers did what they could to remove themselves from its path, moving their tanks and changing formations as quickly as the space and terrain allowed. However, the old god has no concern for the lives of insects. Many died during its approach.
"Called again to my dislike a job a thunder an enemy lands on my home and cries for destruction and shall bring much agony and defeat and my victory is allowed to fight summoned again again again..." Cthulhu droned on in a voice that reminded Major Thompson of the visit he had with his brother, who resided in a mental institution.
The huge door of the alien mothership opened as Cthulhu approached. A single, enormous being, the size of the old god himself, stepped out from the giant pit of a door. It was a giant creature that had the body of a grasshopper that stood upright, wings included. It stepped forward, destroying mountains in the process. It paused in front of Cthulhu, and spoke, "Cthulhu? Is that you?"
"What?" Cthulhu said. "Ghrilgi? No way, man! I haven't seen you in ages!"
"Ah shit, it *is* you! Man, what do you say to that, huh?"
"I know, I know."
"I'm coming down with this alien species that I enslaved, ready to invade..."
"Tell me about it, bro."
"...and here's my old pal *Cthulhu* stepping up to the plate!"
"Yeah, man. Dude, talk about a situation, huh?"
"Yeah, totally. Totally a situation."
"It's a bit awkward, don't you think Ghrilgi? I mean...we're gonna have to fight."
"Fight? Nah, come on man, we don't *fight.* Let's just kill all humans and call it a day. Just like old times?"
"Nah, see, I'm sorry bro, totally sorry, but it's just like. I kinda like these guys."
"Like them?! Cthulhu, you can't be serious."
"I mean, they've kinda grown on me. So...I'm gonna have to kill ya."
"Kill me? But..."
"Yeah, and just kind drip your wet carcass over the land to show others, you know..."
"...we're friends."
"...not to mess with me."
"I mean, I thought we were friends. You won't do that."
"Oh, I will. They don't call me the old god for nothing."
"Well, can I at least get a head start or something?"
"A head start at what, Ghrilgi? You're gonna die here. Today."
"Cthulhu, come on. You're not really. Not really gonna do that."
"Afraid I am. I have to, actually. They already paid the sacrifice."
"Ah, nah, man."
"Totally bro. Totally gonna kill you."
"Nah..."
"Yep."
"Nah, I mean--" Cthulhu interrupted Ghrilgi with a tentacle around the throat. The old god made the fight look easy. When he was done, he took Ghrilgi's corpse with him back to the ocean.
Back to his home.
******
r/arcaldwell -- you won't die if you don't. | When *they* first came, the world had rejoiced as proof that there was indeed other lifeforms in the universe and. *They* had come bearing gifts of technology and energy sources, solutions for the poverty and hunger across the world. Little did we know that as the gifts were just a tool to buy time, time for *them* to assembled their fleet just behind the Moon. Five days after first contact, their fleet breached our atmosphere and attacked. Seven days later, all major cities around the world were wiped off the face of the Earth and all major world leaders were dead.
In a rare moment of unity, humanity banded together into the United Government of Earth and mobilized every capable person over the age of 16 into the World Army. The remaining military leaders from countries around the world, friend and foe, worked together to devise a plan that would eliminate what we suspected to be the base of operations for the enemy, a 500-mile-wide mother-ship orbiting the planet. It was a sound plan, one that strategists heralded as the Defense of Humanity and one that would end the War of All Wars. But we were wrong.
We succeeded where many thought we'd fail and we drove them off the Earth and took the fight into space. It was that overconfidence that doomed humanity. What we thought was their army was merely a reconnaissance squadron, setting up a forward operating base for the main army's arrival. And when they arrived, they came with a vengeance.
It's been a year since the Attack. The General was tired. Weary of a war that he knew could not be won, and hardened by the sheer number of friends he had to bury in the past year. Country after country fell in the matter of days as they flooded Earth with their advanced weaponry and impregnable bodysuits. Men were cut down in the hundreds and nuclear weapons seemed to only kill our own soldiers. He knew that there was no point in fighting even as he ordered the remaining forces to mobilize around the last remaining UGE bunker in the world. Fifteen million men was all that remained of a once two-billion-strong force.
"General...I think you need to see this."
The General looked up at a perplexed Colonel who was holding a faded red notebook with the Great Seal of the United States on it.
"What is it, son?"
"I'm not sure, sir. I think it's a solution...a way to end the war."
At this, the General erupted in his seat with the fear of hope in his eyes. He grabbed the notebook and read the page that the Colonel had marked. He couldn't believe his eyes as he read about a deadly secret that was passed from one President to the next for hundreds of years. It spoke of a creature, a monster that was capable of killing tens of thousands of people in seconds with its breath. A monster that caused earthquakes when it moved across the planet. A monster that scientists hypothesized was the reason behind the extinction of the dinosaurs.
The General flipped through the next few pages, as it detailed how to awaken such a creature as well as the dangers that came with it. In clear red text, it stated "Only as a last resort should you summon this being. It has been dormant for centuries and there is no controlling it once it awakens. Its last recorded sighting was in the sixth century and ended with the Antioch Earthquake that killed nearly 300,000." As he continued to read about the being, he heard an approaching man screaming.
"They're here. They're 5 miles away!"
A Private First Class ran up to the General and saluted before continuing. "Our scouts sighted a massive army headed from the North and the South, sir. They number in the..."
"Sir, we've just received confirmation that the enemy is approaching from the East and the West," interrupted another soldier. As he finished his sentence, the phone on the General's desk rang.
The same Colonel that handed him the key to ending the war looked up fearfully from the red phone he just picked up. "We're surrounded, sir. We have the enemy air fleet approaching our quadrant. Sir, what are your orders?"
The General took a deep breath and prayed that he was not dooming humanity. "Fuck it." The General said, as the alien mother-ship came in to land. "Summon Cthulhu."
| 2017-09-26T12:26:15 | 2017-09-26T12:11:16 | 50 | 13 |
[WP] "Fuck it." The General said, as the alien mother-ship came in to land. "Summon Cthulhu." | The Monks at the Temple of Forever felt The Shock in the Ether as the Rune was Cast, they were to call forth Cthulu. Each Monk pulled forth a ceremonial dagger, laid on their assigned symbols and slit their throats. Cthulu Awakened. Above, the Earth was being laid to waste by the Alien invaders, smaller craft embedded themselves into the Earth and stalked about burning and ripping the world apart, whilst massive machines of death roved the skies and the stars. The Alien Mother ship sat silent, unmoving, observing the destruction wrought by its creations. Then it sensed it, a pulsating mass moving from the oceans, heaving, writhing, coming. Cthulu had arrived. The Motherships focus turned, and it let out a defending blast, an immortal challenge. Cthulu responded. The Motherships spoke, "Arrogant, infantile creatures you struggle against forces beyond your comprehension. What you have summoned is but the last gasp of your dying breath." "But we will fight," came a lone voice, "We will fight till we win, if we run out of ships, we will use guns, when we run out of guns we will use use our hands and when our hands fail us, we use our final strength to summon our worst nightmare, Cthulu." "Foolish beings, you exist because we allow it, and you will die because we demand it." Cthulus mass broke the surface of the Pacific Ocean and raced into the heavens. The immortal horror of the underworld radiated with an immortal howl as it smashed headlong into the Massive Frame of the Reaper known as Harbinger. Instantly, the reaper fleet turned toward the collosall mass and brought to bear there powerful beams of death. Reaper weaponry from the Earth, Skies and the Heavens lit up and bore into the immortal Cthulu..... It had begun, the battle for Earth. | The fighting had raged for mere hours before everything came crashing down. Their forces were immeasurable, their weapons far beyond humanity's. It was hardly a valiant effort, anything any military tried met with catastrophic failure in minutes.
General Dillian stood on the bow of the ship, he couldn't find the answers for the hundreds of questions that ran by him from the group surrounding him. They were out of options, he knew it, but he refused to let humanity fall to an alien species, to be left at their mercy.
*"Fuck it."* The General said, as the alien mothership came in to land. *"Summon Cthulhu."*
Everyone around him went silent. Hairs stood on end from the mere mention of its name.
*"S-Sir..."*
One of them spoke, *"We won't be able to control-"*
*"I don't give a damn about control. We're on a losing battle, but the war isn't over."* The General snapped. He was well-aware of the consequences. Every treaty that had been formed around the subject stated that The Old Gods would only be used in catastrophic situations as a matter of self-destruction to defeat an enemy... this was such situation.
Everyone hesitated, their hearts were certainly full of fear. They collected their Old Ones manuals, flipping to the page of Cthulhu. In the distance, sirens could be heard. They had a matter of minutes before everything would be over.
*"Ph'nglui..."* The captain said in a shaken voice. Everyone repeated after him.
*"...mglw'nafh... Cthulhu... R'lyeh... wgah'nagl fhtagn!"*
They finished. Everyone went cold, nothing happened for a couple seconds. Just as they thought to start again, the waves parted, and the large, eldritch being had arrived.
Their worst fears, ones they didn't even know they bore, were instantly recognised. On the outside, Cthulhu raged, swiping, thrashing, attacking every ship. They opened fire, but the Old God stood strong.
On the inside, every man who found himself gazing upon Cthulhu had become an empty husk of their former selves.
Madness had fallen. | 2017-09-26T11:37:47 | 2017-09-26T11:13:03 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] Society has introduced a day that’s the opposite of the purge- a day where all crimes no matter how small (jaywalking, littering) are punishable by death. | 30 seconds until midnight.
20 seconds.
10 seconds.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
...Silence. While Greek Row was normally loud and active, there was only silence.
I was such a fool for staying out this late. I briskly walked back towards my dorm, wary of potential police officers lurking around campus. As I approached the crosswalk, I counted how many seconds the signal had been white. The signal to walk never lasted more than 15 seconds. It had already been 10 seconds, so I took long strides to cover as much ground as I could. Upon reaching my dorm, I attentively swiped my University ID card over the scanner. As the door unlocked, I could hear a car in the distance. Quickly, but carefully, I swung the door open just enough to slip inside and make my way up the stairs. As I stumbled towards my dorm, I tiredly stabbed at the lock with my key until it found its way in. I entered quietly as to not wake up my roommate, blissfully asleep in his bed. Flopping on the bed, I recalled the beginning of the executional edicts.
It had only been two years since the Martial Proclamation was implemented. The Unity Party stole numerous seats from both Democrats and Republicans. They made up a massive majority in both the House and Senate. They were able to pass the 28th Amendment which enacted what most of us know as the Martial Proclamation.
“To combat growing crime within society, the 28th Amendment will provide law enforcement throughout all of America , on the 2nd of each January, the ability to punish any and all crimes, with death.”
No one believed that statement at first. But surely enough as January 2nd, 2018 arrived, more than 400,000 homeless people were murdered under charges of trespassing, loitering, and anything else you could think of. Most of these charges were very weak and lacked evidence, but it didn’t matter. They were orders of death. People began calling them executional edicts. If the officer had the slightest reason to think you committed a crime, your death would be ordered. Even richer and more privileged people were executed by police officers for disorderly conduct or some other bullshit reason. People began taking the new law seriously. From January 2nd to January 3rd, everyone lived under martial law.
I was always a good kid, brought up by strict Asian parents so I never drank or did drugs. I wasn’t ever too concerned with the new law.
But then half of my friends died.
No one ever thought they would raid the dorm buildings. Some of my friends foolishly had marijuana hidden in their rooms. They never got to tell anyone goodbye. I couldn’t bring myself to go to any of their funerals. There were too many of them.
As I woke up the next morning, I checked my phone and saw that it was already noon. I slumped out of bed and changed into tight jeans and a T-shirt. Even though it was winter, I wasn’t gonna risk looking like I was hiding something. No one was sure of what was a crime anymore, it felt like anything could get you killed. I took only my student ID with me to the market under my dorm building. I bought a vegan sandwich and tea. As I went to pay for my items, I heard a cry and I turned to see two police officers drag a young woman in tears, begging for her life outside of the market. Moments later, everyone heard one loud bang and a quieter thud afterwards. No one spoke after that. Even the cashier just silently handed me my receipt and items. As I left, I passed by the two officers who scanned me for a moment and turned back towards the young woman’s body. I could hear them radio in a clean-up crew but I didn’t stick around for them to arrive.
I stayed in my dorm the rest of the day, quietly listening to music through my earbuds and coloring my coloring book. My roommate had left before I woke up, and I hadn’t heard from him since. When I checked my phone again, it was already 10 pm. I figured the worst had happened when suddenly I heard the door unlock.
But instead of my roommate walking in, it was a police officer, who strode in and dropped a set of bloodied keys on my desk. He left without a word, leaving me with an extra set of keys and without a roommate.
Edit: Wow I did not expect to get so much attention and positive response to this! I usually don’t write because I don’t consider myself that great of a writer, but I’m glad people enjoyed my story! |
Six years.
Six years and twice as many friends.
Six years and my mother and father.
Six years and my son.
I held the gun in my hands, tears streaming down my face. My hands shook, my whole body did. Quaking with every sob. What the hell was wrong with me?
Six years, and tonight, twice as many drinks. That was what was wrong with me. But I didn't care, for the first time in two years I felt something close to *good*.
I got up from my desk and looked out the wide window, down at the crisp green grass below. Today I would make things right. I'd fix the bastards who did this to me. Who took everything from me. Who took everything from all of us.
The Purge they'd called it. Said it was to cull the unfit from the population. Teach people a lesson about *law*.
Yeah, it taught people a lesson about law alright. Taught them that the law was their enemy. There to hurt them. There to punish them, then give somebody else the axe to take their head.
Today was the Purge. It had been going on for the past six years. Once a year. Twenty four hours.
But even a single day was too much. Far too much. My hand gripped the trigger and I entertained the idea of putting it in my mouth, putting an end to this misery now.
But I didn't. I had a job to do. For him. For all of them. I reached for my glass of scotch and took another drink.
Petty crimes were on the rise seven years ago. People didn't care anymore. They'd lost faith in government, lost faith in their leader. They walked where they pleased, littered where they felt, shoplifted whatever they *wanted* in that moment. The nation was on the verge of becoming a police state, but of course rumblings of that only served to incite the public further. And the crimes escalated. Rape. Murder. Arson. The people wanted blood, and they didn't care where they go it.
So the bastards on top came up with a plan. A new law. They told the population to *relax*. To calm down. That they had a *voice*, and it was heard. That the government would be there for them.
They rolled back their police state and in its place instituted this Frankenstein of a celebration. I say celebration because it's a national holiday. Like Easter.
A week ago I heard John say he was looking forward to it. Time off. Time to unwind he said, smiling.
I nearly choked him to death.
I would have. But once, that was me.
The idea was the government didn't need to police the public if it let the public handle business on its own. It took all that rage, all that pent up fury stoked for years in the furnace of a population being rapidly *enslaved* and aimed it exactly where they wanted it. Back at the American citizens. They took man and wife, and pitted them against one another. Brother and sister. Coworkers. You get the idea. It made sense, at the time. Maybe. Maybe we were all just so angry we wanted an outlet. Anything.
And then two years ago it took my son. On the way to our first public address. He was afraid of the Purge, and I wanted to normalize it for him. After all, this was the world he was to grow up in. The sooner he understood the consequences, the better. And Tommy dropped his candy bar.
Littered.
Tommy's big, brown eyes were wide. 'Oops' he'd said. The way he had so many times before - time's when he'd spilled his apple juice, or dropped a toy. It was an accident, and it was only for a moment. But a moment was all it took.
Even as Tommy reached down to correct his mistake, the crack of the rifle thundered across the crowd.
And fancy that, bullets travel faster than a kid's conscience.
He'd shot him, dead on the steps to the podium. I broke down. I held his bleeding, fast-dying body in my shaking hands and I cried for the first time in ten years. I screamed. I wanted to murder every fucking person there. I tried to.
But I didn't. Because I couldn't. They wouldn't allow it. There were rules. Rules I used to agree with.
The one who did it? I never found him.
I hear a rapping at my door and lower my pistol out of sight. "Come in." I say, the words nearly as hollow as I felt. The door swings open and a smartly dressed woman with a folder enters the room. Her hair is up, neat and crisp. Her lipstick is crimson and her posture is one born of looking down on people for years. She smiles, as fake as ever as she strolls into the room. Sharon.
"Good afternoon Mister President. I have the first round of data from this year's Purge if you'd like to take a look?"
I don't say anything.
I raise my gun.
| 2018-01-06T22:27:51 | 2018-01-06T16:26:27 | 1,426 | 429 |
[WP] A seemingly bottomless pit was found, for which the depth can't be determined. Over time, scores of people began using it to illegally dump trash. Many have jumped in to die, while others jumped believing that they'll find life's answers within it. Today, we learn the truth about the hole. | Looks like I got a little carried away with this prompt so I have to break it up into two pieces.
Piece 1)
The discovery of The Hole was an accident. Researchers at Mount St. Helens had quite literally stumbled upon it during an investigation of reported seismic activity at mountain’s base in the midsummer of 2000. A small crack had appeared in the middle of the forest at the start of the activity, unbeknownst to anyone or anything save the squirrel that had fallen out of its nest and scurried away when a sudden crack of the earth beneath it rang out in the air. It continued to go unnoticed for a week – maybe two – until it had lengthened into a sizable fissure that one of the scientists caught his toe in, stumbled, and fell face first into the ground after leaving his tent to relieve himself at 3:57 AM. It was quite the rude awakening, considering his nose was broken in the fall. And that is how The Hole later got its name, Tripp’s Awakening. Dr. Nathaniel Tripp not only broke his nose that night, but he also made one of the most perplexing discoveries in human history. So it only seemed fair that it be named after him too.
Soon after Dr. Tripp discovered the fissure, it became apparent that the ground beneath was becoming quite fragile. With each shudder and shake recorded at the base of the volcano, the earthen crust appeared to become thinner and thinner. The fissure spiderwebbed out. And soon, a small hole appeared in the center. Then it grew, quicker and quicker, until it was approximately 50 meters in diameter. At this point, seismic activity dipped and the investigative interests of the assembled team turned to determining what The Hole was and how deep it went.
It quickly became a popular site for daredevils, the suicidal, and tourists. Kids threw rocks into Tripp’s Awakening, waiting to hear it clatter to the ground. But it never did. Climbers repelled into its mouth, trying to see the bottom, anything. They always ran out of climbing rope before getting anywhere near the bottom, which resulted in a long climb out of The Hole. Scientists traveled from across the globe to run a milieu of tests, but they always came up with inconclusive results. Tripp’s Awakening was not giving up its secrets easily. Over time, the interest waned. The leading theories either wrote it off as an extraordinarily deep natural well or the remnants of some cave system that was in place millions of years before.
None of the answers were satisfactory for Em Whipple, who had first heard about Tripp’s Awakening when she was 10. Now, 18 years later, she stood gazing deep into The Hole. She could feel her heart beating in her throat, muscles tensing, hair whipping against her face in the wind. She had trained herself for this for the past 18 years. The discovery of The Hole had sparked a fascination in the formation of rocks, tectonic plates, seismology. She began writing to Dr. Tripp as a small child. They quickly grew close through correspondence and Em often thought of him as a father figure in her life. She attended the University of Washington, where Dr. Tripp taught and researched. She worked in his lab all throughout her undergraduate and PhD program, learned how to boulder and climb, and grew stronger in both her physical and mental capacities. Her dream, since the midsummer day in 2000 had been to get to the bottom of The Hole.
Today was the first day that a substantial effort was being made to understand Tripp’s Awakening. Beside Em stood a large spool with several kilometers of cable wound tightly around it. Across The Hole was another large spool. Both had lines that she would attach to her harness when it was time to descend.
News crews were set up around the perimeter of The Hole, along with a crowd of onlookers. Em gave them a small smile and wave before strapping on the last of her climbing equipment. Their chatter and cheers echoed dimly in The Hole below. She turned to face Dr. Nathaniel Tripp, who was sitting in a camp chair with a cluster of other scientists at his back. They were fine tuning the equipment and making their tents cozy for the long wait. She spotted Arlene handing out thermos after thermos of coffee with splashes of creamer that looked more like whiskey than creamer at this point. There was an electric buzz in the air as the crossroads of mystery and discovery quickly approached.
The furthest human descent at this point was 15 km, which had only taken a few hours to get down, and several days to get out. She would be the first to get to the bottom, or, at the very least, lay claim to the furthest descent in Tripp’s Awakening. She looked over at Dr. Tripp, smiling anxiously.
Dr. Tripp, sensing she was nervous, stood and approached her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and smiled. “Dr. Whipple,” he said, “you’re a rock-star.” They both smiled at the exchange.
The team came to wish her well with hugs and a quick sip of spiked coffee. Em said a few words for the news crews and the crowds, and then began the descent. The walls were steep, but had many grooves and notches in which Em could take a rest. She imagined the creak of the large spools above as both dispensed cable in a smooth deluge. Every now and then, the long-distance radio at her hip crackled to update her on how far she had gone.
It wasn’t long before it became quite dark. Em snapped on her headlamp and paused, looking around the large expanse of The Hole. She checked to make sure the camera was working so the team could watch her progress. There were deep crags and grooves on the opposite surface. It was cool and quiet, smelling faintly of damp earth. It was peaceful. She thought she spied a tunnel opening, but upon further descent, she discovered it was just a shallow shelf. As she continued to descend further, she discovered that there were several shallow shelves along the walls. There had been evidence of this from the previous climber’s descent and also from some of the investigative studies performed on Tripp’s Awakening, so she expected it. What she didn’t expect were the piles of candy wrappers, styrofoam cups, and other garbage that some of the shelves were harboring.
“A damn shame,” she said with a shake of her head.
The radio crackled, “Congratulations Em! You’ve made it 15.1 km! You’ve gone deeper than anyone else before!” The voice signed off with a chuckle, which Em recognized the joyful sound as Arlene’s.
She smiled and continued to descend. Occasionally she stopped to collect samples of sediment, being careful to label the distance, date, and time of collection. At one time, she stopped to relieve herself, feeling a bit guilty about the whole process.
The sheer wonder of her with task filled her with such awe that she hardly noticed the time ticking by. It wasn’t until the radio began talking on her hip, reminding her to rest, that she saw she had been climbing for close to eight hours. She swung the beam of the head lamp around and began looking for a shelf. Spying one, she dropped down further and shimmied to it. This shelf was a little larger than the others she had spotted. Em was grateful for this because it meant that she could spread out in a sleeping bag instead of employing the alternative sleeping strategy, which involved anchoring a post in the wall and attaching a hammock like structure to special points on the climbing cable so she could hang suspended in the hole. While she enjoyed a good hammock nap like any other outdoor enthusiast, there was something unsettling about hanging above a bottomless pit.
| "Are you sure it's okay?" I asked Murry. He had been my best friend for over 20 years. He had a good heart at his core, but his morals were a bit grey. He was driving us to 'The Spot'. I had a couch that seemed impossible to get rid of. No one wanted the ugly thing. It had yellow upholstery decorated with brown flowers. I put it on the curb and no one touched it. I posted an ad, and no one called for months. Then I posted another ad without a picture. The one guy that did come look at it punched me for wasting his time. I even tried burning it one time, the timing on that one was too perfect. For absolutely no reason at all a fire truck was driving by. They put out the fire, and I earned a hefty fine and a stern talking to from the Fire Marshal. I bought it while drunk one night, and seemed cursed to own it forever.
"Yeah man, don't sweat it. I dump crap in there all the time," Murry said while he drove. Everyone knew about The Spot, but no one knew anything about it. Government scientists had tried researching it. They sent probes, guys with cables, everything. Nothing ever returned. It still felt like dumping to me, but my mind relaxed a bit when I saw a federal truck driving away from it. "See man, even the feds do it." Murry reminded me. I wondered what they were dumping, and realized I probably didn't want to know. After another five minutes we reached The Spot. The area was like a crowded town square.
People were walking around buying things from shops set up by enterprising folk. The Spot was a bit out of the way, so the trend started out easily enough. Someone set up a stand to sell drinks and sanitary wipes to help clean up after dumping. Then someone started selling food. Within a year it became a tourist trap, with the added bonus of easy clean up. They just swept all the trash into the dark hole in the ground. I glanced at the small line of people waiting to dump. It seemed silly that there would be a line, but due to all the food stands around the hole there was really only one place left to dump from. As soon as we parked some kid ran up to us pulling a dolly behind him.
"Hey Murry. 5 or 10?" the kid asked. Murry handed him a five dollar bill.
"Just the dolly," Murry said. The kid handed him the dolly and ran off.
"You really do this all the time, huh?" I chuckled. "What's 10 bucks get you?" Murry pointed to a big burly guy that looked like an older version of the kid that rented us the dolly.
"Help," he said. I climbed up in the bed of the truck and we worked the couch down and onto the dolly. We got it to the back of the line with minimal fuss. "Hey man, want a beer?" Murry asked me. I saw him waving down the same kid that provided the dolly. I nodded, then reached into my wallet.
"It's on me, thanks for your help." When the kid arrived I handed him a 20. "Two beers, and keep the change."
"THANKS!" he smiled broadly at me and ran off. I smiled at him and remembered my younger days. That kid seemed full of energy running everywhere. I smiled when I saw more children running, and thought to myself that this was kind of a nice place. Almost like a park. I saw a couple of adults running too. It was nice to see the parents playing along with their children. Then, I noticed more adults and kids running, some adults running while carrying kids. All in the same direction, away from the hole. I heard a scream. I turned my head and saw a skeleton climbing out of the hole.
"That's never happened before," Murry said. I almost lost myself to panic, but his comment kept me grounded. I let a small chuckle escape. I liked Murry. In our long friendship, I've never known him to panic or over react. He calmly placed a hand on my shoulder. "Let's go somewhere else," he said. It seemed like such an obvious thing, but he said it so casually. He sounded like he was disappointed with the menu choices in a restaurant. We left the couch and dolly there and walked back toward his truck. People ran all around us, and I started seeing more skeletons appear. They pounced like wild animals on anyone that they saw running.
The walk was difficult. I mostly kept my eyes on the back of Murry's head while he paced forward, almost as if he were taking a Sunday stroll. Any time my eyes looked somewhere else I saw blood and death. The once bone white skeletons were now covered with crimson. The screams were horrifying, but I focused on the back of Murry's head. I was so focused on the back of his head I didn't realize he stopped walking until I crushed my nose against the back of his skull.
"OW!" I said, then felt immediate shame. People were being slaughtered around me, and I was annoyed because I bumped my nose. I looked over Murry's shoulder to see why he stopped. Several feet in front of him stood the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. A pair of under developed horns jutted out of the top of her head. She had long jet black hair that reached her waist, and her eyes glowed with red light.
"You look level headed enough to hold a conversation," the woman said. She walked toward Murry and me. "Can you tell me why there's a thriving economy built around filling my home with trash?" the woman asked. She stood a foot away from us and stared at Murry in the eyes. She ignored me completely, something I was thankful for. For his part Murry just shrugged.
"We didn't know it was your home. We didn't know it was *anyone's* home. It was just a hole that goes nowhere," Murry said. I felt something brush my leg and looked down to see Murry pulling his knife out from it's sheath on the back of his belt.
"No hole goes *nowhere*," the woman said. "I like your honesty. That hole shouldn't have been there anyway, but unfortunately my piece of shit son is an idiot." She looked Murry up and down, then looked at me. She turned her head to look around. No sign of another living person. The skeletons surrounded us.
"It's not often someone keeps their cool when I show up. This world is mine now, but you guys get to live." She waved a hand at us dismissively. Several skeletons moved out of the way to let us pass. I glanced down and Murry let his knife go.
"What do you mean this world is yours? You just got here. Sure it's easy to kill a bunch of people having a day out, but do you think our governments are just going to kneel?" Murry asked. The same thought crossed my mind, but I kept it to myself to avoid warning her.
"Oh. Obviously you don't know who I am. I'll tell you, just so you keep in mind how generous I'm being by letting you live. When I say this world is mine now. I mean..." she raised a hand into the air and black holes began to dot the sky. As far as I could see across the horizon, the sky looked like swiss cheese. Skeletons rained out of each hole. "... this world is MINE. NOW." I jumped as a skeleton landed next to me. It shattered on the ground, but pulled itself back together. It held a bone sword and began walking towards the nearest town. Dozens more skeletons continued to fall and head towards town.
"My name is [Ballisea](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/11/ballisea-el-sol.html) the Demon Queen."
 
***
Thank you for reading! You can find more of my writings on my [blog](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/front-page.html).
| 2018-01-13T09:15:29 | 2018-01-13T09:08:37 | 26 | 12 |
[WP] The narrator was running late and just showed up to a story already in progress. He doesn't know who the heroes or villains are or even what genre this is. | The battlefield was a writhing mass of bodies, men knee deep in mud and gore, the dead strewn under their feet. The air rang with the clattering of swords and whistles of arrows, the heavy stench of sweat and and blood suffocating. Our hero rides in, blade held aloft as his steed-
“I’m not the hero, mate,” not-the-hero stated, halting his horse to point across the field, “he’s over there I think.”
Sorry, I’m new. Anyway... hm. Hero?
“Over here!” The hero shouts, gesturing with a golden sword as he takes cover behind his shield.
Okay. Got it.
He takes a mighty swing, sending his foes flying backwards in flash of holy light. Another comes for him, but the hero is too quick, using his shield to knock him back with incredible force. They keep coming though, as another jumps onto his back with dagger in hand. The hero staggers as the blade sinks into his shoulder-
“Can you shut up?” The hero yells, “you don’t even know my name!”
Look, I’m trying my best here. You don’t know how hard it is to jump into a story halfway through; I don’t know who’s important, or what’s happening and I could do without all this backtalk.
Anyway.
The hero finally throws off the enemy, striking him down with a blade to the chest. He glances around, looking for something... I guess. Suddenly, he starts charging across the front, plowing through men with his sword... heh. Ahem. Sorry about that.
He... reaches his target? A woman on an armoured, ebony steed, calmly observing the violent scene before her. Her eyes glitter from under her cloak as the hero reaches her. I guess she’s the villain?
“I’m not the villain.” She announces, taking down her hood.
That’s so something a villain would say, just saying. I wouldn’t trust her.
“Shut up!” The hero shouts, like a child having a tantrum. “Esme, we need to do something. We are losing too many men.”
The woman named Esme who is definitely not going to betray anyone at any point, pulls out vial from a satchel hidden in the folds of her cloak. She smiles in a definitely not creepy way as she hands it to him.
“What is this?” The hero a- “can you please stop calling me hero!”
I’m sorry, I’m not the one who failed to give their name.
“You’re the narrator! You’re supposed to know!”
I’m not omniscient! Just tell me your name so we can move on.
“Christopher.”
Right, okay. Christopher asks Esme what the stuff in the vial does. Esme tells him it’s definitely not anything evil or dark, and that it will swing the battle in their favour.
“Can you stop?” Esme glares at nothing in particular because I have no physical body.
“Okay, stop it. You’re being a nuisance.” Chris says, like the prick that he is. “What happened to the other guy?”
I don’t know what happened to the previous narrator. Maybe he got sick of people being rude to him? Hm?
“You’re the one accusing me of being evil!”
Honey. You’re obviously an evil sorceress or something. Either that, or you will become one eventually. Femme fatale and all that jazz.
| *Oh my, excuse me, sorry, thank you.*
*Hrrm hrrrm.*
I picked up a bundle of papers and let my index finger slowly drip down along the page. A pause halfway through to look up and observe where we were at then tip my head back down jumping from line to line to confirm that I was in the right place. It didn't look right. I looked to the guy in the corner.
*Hey! Pssst, can you? No? Okay...*
What a poker face huh. Oh well, I'll take it as a yes, or, whatever.
*"Four weeks later the D-day had come. Jeremy took deep breaths and put on his Balacla- Uh, beanie.. It was go time. He grabbed the stick and put it into reverse, he needed to move fast or they were going to catch up to him!"*
**Jeremy paused, confused. He had this weird feeling as if he was suddenly stressed, and had to get away from something. But that wasn't right. He engaged the handbrake and opened the door.**
*"He- He- Ah, he realised it would be easier to loose his pursuers on foot!"*
**Jeremy reached out his right hand...**
*"But he needed to bring some... Reassurance, he opened the glovebox and grabbed his pi– iiiiirthday gift...?"*
**... and grabbed hold of what seemed to be an envelope covered in glistering red paper with a crossed white lace that curled up at the ends embracing it.**
*What the f–*
**Jeremy exited the vehicle.**
*Hey, you, corner guy, pokerface. Which story is this?*
The man in the corner gave me nothing.
I began skimming through paper after paper. I clearly did not have the right script in my hands. As I dug through drawers and boxes with – to me – unknown labels, **Jeremy had made his way through a long tunnel of crates with cyrillic writing on them. He slowed down when he began nearing the end of the create tunnel.**
*"Jeremy put the envelope on the inside of his brown leather jacket… And suddenly he holds a gun! Now he has the gun? Come on!"*
**Jeremy took two deep breaths and slowly stepped out from behind the corner and–**
*OH MY GOD. NO! WHAT?!? JEREMY?*
**A man in a grey suit moved swiftly in a crouched position towards Jeremy's limp body. Behind him was a silent hall, every few feet you saw body upon body.**
*"That... Was the last of them? Charles had been... Successful?"*
*I feel like, actually I don't know what I feel like. Corner guy, hey corner guy! Can you give me any indication at all, please?!*
I don't like the look corner guy is giving me right now. Smug bastard, can't he tell I need his help? That the story needs his help?
*Sigh.*
*"Charles brushed the dust off of his jacket and–"*
"CUUUUUT! Alright good job guys, I think that's the one!"
*Excuse me what? This is a movie set? None of that happened, but was just a long take? What in Jesus name is going on here.*
*"Oh what a wonderful shoot it had been! The crew got together and all the extras rose from their graves to join the set crew in celebrating the final scene of... The movie "Cool Suit Guy Saves The Day"? What movie title is that, that's kind of a–"*
*You know what... I think we need to start this story over. And do it right from the beginning. What do you say?*
**He rose up from his chair and walked out of his room, into the open part of his office, glanced left and right carrying a puzzled expression.**
*"All of his coworkers were gone... What could it mean? Stanley decided to go to the meeting room, perhaps, he had simply missed a memo."* | 2018-02-08T09:20:43 | 2018-02-08T08:17:54 | 521 | 36 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | I wake up to the sound of a familiar jingle coming from my phone. Groaning I turn over and turn it on. But then something grabs my interest, an official text, like the amber alerts you get sometimes, saying DO. NOT. LOOK.AT. THE. MOON. My screen then suddenly bursts up with hundreds of text messages saying the same thing, it’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.
I then see the time, 3:00 am. “Shit” I say, still half asleep, “ I have class at 7:30, ain’t nobody got time for trolls.” I then turn back over and have a wonderful nights rest and get to class just on time.
But no one is there. | I wake up. It's still dark.
Some dogs howl while others bark.
I get up, go to pee.
Get back to bed, ready to be-
-sleeping for the next few hours.
For I can't stay awake, I have no power.
But then my phone rings, Ah a notification.
I try to cover my ears, alas, my realization.
A ping. Another ping. And a hundred ping more.
So many pings, I can no longer ignore.
I get up, hold my phone, ready to kill the messenger.
But up comes a warning of the impending danger.
"DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON" a text, I have receieved.
Just to find the others say that I have been decieved.
"It's a beautiful night, look outside", or so they plead.
In all this infusion of danger and confusion, I decide to concead-
To my lady known as slumber for your nonsense can wait.
It's 3 A.M you know, who messages so late?
I hear your stories conspiring
thinking dread yet admiring.
And while I still find some funny.
I for one switch off my phone,
again just me, I am alone,
my bed,my only company.
Good night.
Sleep tight.
Don't let the bed bugs bite.
| 2022-06-27T10:58:59 | 2018-04-06T20:24:10 | 103 | 11 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | The whole neighbourhood was out in the streets staring skyward; dressed in robes and wrapped in blankets. The bright white light made them appear as stone sentinels against the snow.
“Mummy, the moon is so big!”
My phone buzzed urgently in my hand. I set it on the nightstand facedown
“Grab your jacket lily,” I wrapped my housecoat tight against me and zipped Lily into her parka.
The light was brilliant; almost fluorescent. It radiated off the snow like an aura.
Lilly stood breathless on the driveway, her face wide with wonder. I wished i could always see her like this; so wonderful.
“It’s a beautiful night,” my neighbour commented with her children cradled to her breast.
I nodded and looked skyward at the fantastic beacon against the night. It was moving, falling from the sky.
“ Mom, why are you crying?”
I wiped my eyes and held Lily’s shoulders tightly.
“It’s just so beautiful baby. I love you”.
All was calm as the bomb cracked on the horizon and spilled over; swallowing everything.
| The explosions had been rumbling off in the distance for hours as a young boy tried to drift off to sleep. The war might be raging, but the Allied Forces had deemed his village far enough away that an evacuation was only advised, not mandatory. With his mother the way that she was, the brunette knew that he would be sleeping in his own bed as soon as he heard those words. Still, the sounds persisted even as they faded into the background and then became an incorporated soundtrack to vague, shifty dreams.
A repetitive chirp woke him up as the witching hour drew to a close. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes in annoyance, he glanced at his blocky phone, the display lit up with hundreds of messages, all from unknown numbers, telling him to look at the moon. Above that, in bright red letters, scrolled a message “DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON”. It all seemed so ridiculous, the boy thought as he lay back down, ignoring his phone. Still, curiosity gnawed at him. *What was so special about the moon tonight?*
10 minutes passed, then 15, and still the boy couldn’t shake his curiosity. Finally heeding the gnawing drive in his chest, the boy sat up again, this time turning to his window, barred tight against the October chill. Brushing aside his curtains, the boy was greeted by the sight of a blood red moon for almost an instant, marred by rings and three black tomoe, before he woke up again to spring birds chirping. | 2022-11-14T21:59:08 | 2018-04-06T18:58:31 | 45 | 12 |
[WP] You have the ability to know a lie when you hear it, and to know the truth when lied to. Society appoints you to a high judiciary position, but there's nobody to check if YOU'RE lying when you decide justice. Which case do you remember most?
Edit: Hi, guys! I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who visited or pitched in, this got way more attention than I expected and was a lot of fun! Looking forward to more, keep up the good work everyone! | People rely on my judgement. That's what they do, when you just KNOW. Sometimes they don't. They don't want their dirty secrets coming to the surface. So I'm in the best place for someone of my talents. In a courtroom. Day in, day out. Watching for tells that aren't there.
Interestingly, it's something I can see. Nothing like words saying "truth" or "lie" over someone's head. Just a faint glow. Red for lie, blue for truth. Often, I don't know what's being said. Just so many glows of red in a sea of people. And it's always there. Always. I can't stop it. But it only works if the person thinks it's the truth or not. If they were wrongly informed and believe it to be right, it comes up blue.
The lawyers, they're the worst of the lot. Most things they say? Lies. Attacking the opponent, not with facts, but just to degrade. Things they know are wrong. God, I'm so tired. It hurts.
My child. She died... I don't even remember any more. It's been so long... She was allergic to vaccines. And then some idiot parent thought it was best for their child to be all "natural" and "untainted by harmful chemicals." It shouldn't have been life threatening. It wasn't to that child. But it was to mine. No parent should have to bury their child. All I saw was so much red. Red from the doctors, saying it couldn't have been predicted. Red from the therapists, saying time would help. It still hasn't. Red from the lawyers, defending ignorance. And pure red from the jury, clearing the mother of all charges.
I hunted her down. Oh, I couldn't go after her directly. But a hunt isn't about the kill. It's about the wait. All you really need is enough patience to watch someone slip. And she did. The accident wasn't her fault, really. Just a homeless man in a case of vehicular manslaughter. But it was enough. Nobody questions my word, after all. Now she's locked up for premeditated murder. Which is only half true, I suppose.
What's one more lie, anyway?
| Judiciary: You want to know about which case I remember most huh? \[chuckles\]
Interviewer: Yes, you've served for almost 80 years now, no doubt you probably have hundred of stories. \[inaudible\]
Judiciary: Okay, \[laughs\] here's one that's stuck with me in my mind \[sic\], I'll let you guess when it was.
Interviewer: \[whispers inaudibly\]
Judiciary: \[whispers inaudibly\] The trial seemed simple enough. It was a case of what was very clearly manslaughter. The accused went to the stand. It was a really sad case. It was the kind of case that sticks with you, in your mind. A teenager was accused of killing their friend. It was horrible really. It was open shut though. The victim had \[inaudible\] their friend to help them kill themselves, but it became unclear if the victim had still wanted to be killed, the accused was aware of the ambiguity and still went through with it.
It was very \[inaudible\]. I had asked them if they were aware of the possibility that \[inaudible\] and they said no. I could tell it was a lie. Open shut.
I had lowered the charge from \[inaudible\].
Interviewer: What could make you do that! You said it was \[inaudible\]!
Judiciary: It was the next question I asked which made me want to lower it. I asked them if they would ever betray their friend, I asked them if they loved their friend, I asked if they would ever do something they didn't think was best for their friend. I am not sure what wording I used, but it was something like that. I may not remember what question it was but the answer was clear.
They said they would do something that would hurt their friend. They said that. To anyone else this was open shut. To me, I lowered the charge. Even in this moment, they were trying to protect the friend from *something*, although I am no longer as sure what it could be. That is why I lowered the charge. I knew the one thing I could be certain of, for whatever reason, that the guilt of having to make that call affected them far more profoundly than \[inaudible\].
Interviewer: Do you do that kind of thing often?
Judiciary: As often as people lie about loving someone else in a courtroom, or as often as \[inaudible\].
*The audio for which this transcript was based had not been saved properly and much of the dialogue was left inaudible. The transcriber would like to apologize for any inconvenience.* | 2018-05-16T01:53:53 | 2018-05-15T20:44:11 | 62 | 39 |
[WP] Humanity discovers that supernatural creatures such as vampires and werewolves exist. Instead of attempting to exterminate them, some countries attempt to offer them lucrative jobs that they could do better than a human. | "Hello, I'm Marie, I'll be your nurse," she said pulling up the rolling stool and sitting down. "So, why are you here today?"
"I've been feeling tired, and dizzy a lot," I said.
"Could you roll back your sleeve for me?" Marie asked. She was pale, really pale, but it was more like marble than skin. I rolled back my sleeve, and she rubbed my wrist with some kind of wet wipe. Pulling my wrist up to her nose, she took a deep breath. "Hmm," she said, reached over and checked off a box on a check list.
"Hmm?" I asked.
"Well," she said, "let me check something else. Now don't worry, I'm going to get very close to your neck. It's part of the procedure."
As she got close to my face my heart started to beat fast, like some ancient instinct was kicking in. "I bet some people take this the wrong way," I said. She took a sharp deep breath.
"Sometimes, that's why I've learned to announce what I'm doing," she said, and sat back on her rolling stool.
"So," I said, trying to get my heart to slow down, "what were you sniffing for?"
"The vampire olfactory senses are much more attuned than a humans," she said. "I was checking for tell-tale signs of diseases or infections."
"Did you find anything?" I asked.
From the drawer she pulled out a small device, about the size of a computer mouse. She held it to my thumb. "You're going to feel a pinch." And I did. A small drop of blood appeared on my thumb, like a diabetes test. Marie used a small dropper to suck it up. She then dropped it onto her tongue. I fought the urge to gag. She clicked her tongue a couple times, then grimaced and check off a few more boxes. These creatures used to hunt us, kill us, eat us. Now it's sitting here tasting my blood. This must be like a wine tasting to it. I shuttered.
"Mr. Moore," it said, "I'm sorry to tell you, but I've found traces of pancreatic cancer. It seems to be in the early stages, so we should be able to give you chemo. Or we could seek an experimental treatment involving werewolf blood transfusion."
I stared at it, it's face passive.
"Um," I stammered, "can I speak to my doctor?"
"Certainly," it said standing up, "your doctor can confirm my results with any test you wish. Have a good day Mr. Moore." | “Why do you think underwater welders make so much goddamn money?” Ellis asked, but Dean knew he wasn’t really looking for an answer. So he shrugged at let his friend continue his rant. “ “Because nobody in their right mind would do it - that’s why.” Ellis took a long drink of his Molson and looked pointedly at Dean.
“Makes sense,” Dean agreed, “But why are you telling me this? I didn’t go to a welding college or get any damn diving certificate. I guess I’m just a sucker who got my MBA instead.” He set his bottle on the bar table. The golden wood was sticky, just ever so slightly, but the food there was always hot and - more importantly- the beer was cheap.
Ellis shook his head. “No, that’s not - I’m not about to slap on a wetsuit and grab a torch, either. I’m comfortable enough in my office even if it is boring as all hell,” he said. He took another swig of his beer. Dean suspected he was pausing mostly for dramatic effect. “But do you know who would go down there?”
Dean resisted rolling his eyes. “Enlighten me.”
“Vampires.”
A bit of beer shot through Dean’s nose as he snorted.
“Fuck off man, I’m serious,” Ellis said. He drew up his face like an angry toddler.
“Sorry, sorry,” Dean said, still laughing. He dabbed his napkin at the splotches on his sweatshirt.
“Think about it. They don’t need to breath, so we could just send ‘em down there without an oxygen tank or anything. That’s half the risk right there.”
“You honestly think you’re gonna convince a bunch of vampires to be underwater welders? I thought they just sulked in the shadows all day, wearing black and shit.”
“Can’t say that, man, it’s racist.”
Dean couldn’t hold it back this time - he rolled his eyes. “*Vampires* aren’t a race, you idiot.”
“They’re people with a condition,” Ellis said, “You shouldn’t stereotype.” He finished his beer and flagged the waitress over to order another.
“That’s beside the point though,” Dean said with a sigh, “Get on with your grand plan.”
“No, it kinda *is* the point. There’s lot of honest, hardworking vamps out there who just caught a tough break. We find them *meaningful* employment and skim a finder’s fee off the top,” Ellis said. He looked at Dean. For once, his friend might be serious. “Think about it.”
Dean leaned back in his chair. “Well,” he said as he turned the idea over in his mind, “I guess it’s usually pretty dark underwater. It might not be the *worst* idea ever.”
Ellis nodded and his face cracked into a smile. “That’s only Vampires, man. Think of the possibilities if we get the freaking wolves in on this too...”
---
/r/liswrites
| 2018-08-27T16:02:28 | 2018-08-27T14:45:50 | 2,554 | 213 |
[WP] Humanity discovers that supernatural creatures such as vampires and werewolves exist. Instead of attempting to exterminate them, some countries attempt to offer them lucrative jobs that they could do better than a human. | "Hello, I'm Marie, I'll be your nurse," she said pulling up the rolling stool and sitting down. "So, why are you here today?"
"I've been feeling tired, and dizzy a lot," I said.
"Could you roll back your sleeve for me?" Marie asked. She was pale, really pale, but it was more like marble than skin. I rolled back my sleeve, and she rubbed my wrist with some kind of wet wipe. Pulling my wrist up to her nose, she took a deep breath. "Hmm," she said, reached over and checked off a box on a check list.
"Hmm?" I asked.
"Well," she said, "let me check something else. Now don't worry, I'm going to get very close to your neck. It's part of the procedure."
As she got close to my face my heart started to beat fast, like some ancient instinct was kicking in. "I bet some people take this the wrong way," I said. She took a sharp deep breath.
"Sometimes, that's why I've learned to announce what I'm doing," she said, and sat back on her rolling stool.
"So," I said, trying to get my heart to slow down, "what were you sniffing for?"
"The vampire olfactory senses are much more attuned than a humans," she said. "I was checking for tell-tale signs of diseases or infections."
"Did you find anything?" I asked.
From the drawer she pulled out a small device, about the size of a computer mouse. She held it to my thumb. "You're going to feel a pinch." And I did. A small drop of blood appeared on my thumb, like a diabetes test. Marie used a small dropper to suck it up. She then dropped it onto her tongue. I fought the urge to gag. She clicked her tongue a couple times, then grimaced and check off a few more boxes. These creatures used to hunt us, kill us, eat us. Now it's sitting here tasting my blood. This must be like a wine tasting to it. I shuttered.
"Mr. Moore," it said, "I'm sorry to tell you, but I've found traces of pancreatic cancer. It seems to be in the early stages, so we should be able to give you chemo. Or we could seek an experimental treatment involving werewolf blood transfusion."
I stared at it, it's face passive.
"Um," I stammered, "can I speak to my doctor?"
"Certainly," it said standing up, "your doctor can confirm my results with any test you wish. Have a good day Mr. Moore." | Karen walked up the spiraling steps in the modern centre until she reached the floor of the building that was crowded with law offices, realtors, and other small whiteish collar workplaces. Approaching the door with only a simple nameplate ‘Kaka Dental Practice’, she stuttered before opening the door.
“So this is what a vampires’ office looks like ... I thought it would be darker and with ... blood.” She thought to herself.
“What! No, why would a dentist want blood and a dark operating area? I run a legitimate business.” Remarked A voice from behind the door.
“What? You can really read minds?!” Karen responded back in astonishment.
“Yes, of course, we can, that’s why I’m a dentist ... no we can’t, you muttered that to yourself so loudly we all heard it. Come in, you’re my 4 o’clock, Karen isn’t it?”
Walking into the lobby, she noted that it was a fairly normal dentists office, although with a plate of donuts instead of floss. The doctor was a young adult male, of pale yet toned build, with a semi-noticeable fang, and an even more noticeable hair. She was motioned into a room after waiting five mins and sat down on the operating chair. The dentist walked in carrying a tray of equipment.
Karen looked at it and said, “So .., Dr. acula? What am I in for today?”
The dentist responded with an annoyed look and tone “Araragi, Dr. Araragi. It’s not that funny.” Karen looked away in horror after realizing what she said.
He continued on, “anyways, you're here for a routine cleaning, nothing else really.”
“Ok” she responded
“Let’s begin” he went.
Dr. Araragi took out the instruments, including picks and brushes. He started with scraping plaque from her teeth. It was boring and over in a second. The rest of the checkup was the same. Almost done, he had a menacing brush in his hand, with thistles in an area of a finger covering it.
She looked at it, and paused “Soooo, what’s with the brush?”
“It’s a new one, state of the art. Designed by a whole wing at MIT. It’s said to work amazingly”
As he slid the brush into her mouth and started motioning back and forth, she was amazed. Each brush of a bristle felt like her teeth were being power washed.
“Arghhgh” her mouth went as they were invaded by the cutting edge toothbrush.
“I’ve heard it feels nice,” Araragi said after noticing her not discomfort.
Soon, her teeth felt clean and the appointment was over, but still, she had a question.
“So, why did you become a dentist, Araragi? Seems weird for a vampire.”
He sighed, looked at her, and said.
“Because I like dentistry. Why do you like the dentist? I like to see clean teeth.”
And embarrassed for asking another dumb question, and done with her appointment, she went home.
---
For more tales from the Storyverse, check out /r/araragi | 2018-08-27T16:02:28 | 2018-08-27T15:13:21 | 2,554 | 28 |
[WP] Humanity discovers that supernatural creatures such as vampires and werewolves exist. Instead of attempting to exterminate them, some countries attempt to offer them lucrative jobs that they could do better than a human. | It had been the werewolves, unsurprisingly, that had ended up testing hair conditioners. They sported thick coats that were both coarse and tough enough to turn away a steel blade, so anything that could make their pelts luxuriously soft and sleek would become the next luxury conditioner overnight.
Furthermore, they were the perfect test subjects.
They could consent to the testing, which stopped all the animal cruelty complaints. Even better, their rights as humans and sapient beings were still being debated. While this would generally be a bad thing, the laws regarding human testing conveniently didn't apply to them. As long as the werewolf consented, they could test whatever weird formula they wanted.
That wasn't all though. Any damage from weird formulas would disappear when the transformation reversed in the morning. Next full moon, the werewolves had the exact same coat they did before the testing was performed. Every weird factor that might cause the hair to react in a different way was eliminated in one convenient stroke.
Lastly, it was actually a surprisingly lucrative job for any werewolf to have. Photos of werewolves sexily posed and covered in suds sold really, really well online. One particularly svelte werewolf made upwards of $10,000 a month through their private website.
While it might seem easy to replicate photos of werewolves posing sexily, it was extraordinarily difficult and costly to contain and placate a werewolf during their transformation. The only reason it worked for the hair conditioning companies was that they got much more out of the deal in terms of new products and endorsement deals than it cost them to restrain the werewolf in the first place.
Funnily enough, the vampires had met with much less success in their attempts to find employment. They had tried working with sunscreen manufacturers, but in the end... they got burned. | “I trust this will be done by nightfall tomorrow?”
“The contract has been made. It’ll be done, as sure as the sun rises!”
The vampire literally looks down at me. Not too hard ta do considerin I only come up to his left knee.
“As your new erstwhile... *employer*, I would hope for a little decorum.” He leans forward, mouth slightly open, fangs bared, doin’ his best to look imperious.
Idiot.
He must be newly made.
I cock me old red cap back and give him a smile of me own. “Now, now, laddie. Unlike yer kind we keep to our contracts, especially with our... *clientele*. It’ll be fookin done ‘fore the sun has a chance ta burn yer pale arse!“ Unable to help myself I give him a wink just for good measure.
Apparently the git didn’t take well to me wee bit of old world charm and starts to draw closer.
I raise me hand and show him a flash of the Old magic - just a tiny drop, the kind that only his kind could see. Without a word I make it clear there are oceans more where that came from.
He pales. Well, as pale as his kind can get anyway.
“Ahem. Yes. Very good. Thank you. If this goes well I’ll be sure and spread word.” He stumbles out and nearly trips on one of me little work stools along the way.
Dumb cunt.
The papers, the radio, the television programmes, the ‘Me-Ja;’ all hootin’ and hollerin’ about the vampires and werewolves now living openly amongst them.
What is a vampire or werewolf but just another human?
Humans infected with some filthy parasite, true; - but still human nonetheless.
We were here before them. We will be here after them. As long as the sun sets, the moon rises, and the mists blanket the greens, we will be here.
After he leaves I set about plannin fer the task ahead.
I may have to call a brother or two.
But the contract has been made and ‘tis a matter of pride.
After all, we’re the Brownies.
We get shit done.
| 2018-08-27T17:13:23 | 2018-08-27T17:11:47 | 33 | 18 |
[WP] Humanity discovers that supernatural creatures such as vampires and werewolves exist. Instead of attempting to exterminate them, some countries attempt to offer them lucrative jobs that they could do better than a human. | “I trust this will be done by nightfall tomorrow?”
“The contract has been made. It’ll be done, as sure as the sun rises!”
The vampire literally looks down at me. Not too hard ta do considerin I only come up to his left knee.
“As your new erstwhile... *employer*, I would hope for a little decorum.” He leans forward, mouth slightly open, fangs bared, doin’ his best to look imperious.
Idiot.
He must be newly made.
I cock me old red cap back and give him a smile of me own. “Now, now, laddie. Unlike yer kind we keep to our contracts, especially with our... *clientele*. It’ll be fookin done ‘fore the sun has a chance ta burn yer pale arse!“ Unable to help myself I give him a wink just for good measure.
Apparently the git didn’t take well to me wee bit of old world charm and starts to draw closer.
I raise me hand and show him a flash of the Old magic - just a tiny drop, the kind that only his kind could see. Without a word I make it clear there are oceans more where that came from.
He pales. Well, as pale as his kind can get anyway.
“Ahem. Yes. Very good. Thank you. If this goes well I’ll be sure and spread word.” He stumbles out and nearly trips on one of me little work stools along the way.
Dumb cunt.
The papers, the radio, the television programmes, the ‘Me-Ja;’ all hootin’ and hollerin’ about the vampires and werewolves now living openly amongst them.
What is a vampire or werewolf but just another human?
Humans infected with some filthy parasite, true; - but still human nonetheless.
We were here before them. We will be here after them. As long as the sun sets, the moon rises, and the mists blanket the greens, we will be here.
After he leaves I set about plannin fer the task ahead.
I may have to call a brother or two.
But the contract has been made and ‘tis a matter of pride.
After all, we’re the Brownies.
We get shit done.
| This is the third time this week. After all the unanswered letters, the messages, the unanswered phone calls. They've actually come knocking on my door.
I refuse to answer. If I just wait they'll leave. If I...
"Mr. Wyatt, we know you're in there. Please open the door. We just want to talk to you."
The hell you do, I thought bitterly. They're just baiting me to call back, they don't really know I'm in. The lights are all off for a reason!
"Mr. Wyatt. Please be reasonable. You're only delaying the inevitable."
I'd call the cops but after that stupid supernatural integration program they'll just call me a specist and put the call on youtube or something.
God! If it wasn't so dangerous outside after curfew I'd make a run for it. But it is, I just have to wait it out here. They can't break in, even for them it's a felony.
"Mr. Wyatt this is your last warning. You have until the count of three to open this door. ONE!"
I feel my heart pounding and attempting to leap out of my chest. No way, they wouldn't...
"TWO!"
Fuck! Monsters! They totally would! My gun, I need my gun!
"TREE!"
The door flew open, the solid wood dresser I broke my back pushing to block it was tossed to the side like a flimsy IKEA piece.
I closed my eyes and shot blindly. The noise was deafening and I think I broke something on the recoil.
"Mr. Wyatt. Please, shooting in residential areas are discouraged. Please come, we are all waiting for you outside in the van."
I opened my eyes, I can clearly see the light from the hallway through the hole in his shoulder yet his face just looks annoyed.
"Monster! Stay away from me! You can't do this to me. FREAK! GET AWAY!" My voice gets shriller and I raise my gun again.
I didn't even see him move. He was besides me and with one swift movement my gun clattered to the floor. The metallic sound ringing the end.
"Mr. Wyatt do refine from ruining my suit any further. Really now, must we go through this every single time? It's just the mandory blood tax. It's not like we'll suck you dry."
He smiled baring his fangs. That joke wasn't funny the first time, it's not going to be now. I scream and they drag me to the blood tax collection van kicking all the way... same as the previous time, and the time before that, and the time before that.
God damn the IRS!!! | 2018-08-27T17:11:47 | 2018-08-27T14:46:19 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] You're the owner of a cafe frequently visited by vigilantes and anti-heroes who absolutely adore your sweetness and acceptance of who they are. One day, though, a particularly rude customer comes in and trashes the place. Your friends aren't too happy to hear about that. |
I knew he was trouble when he walked in.
He came in, head held up high, posture like someone had shoved a metal rod up his ass. Young, cocky, asshole. It was slow day, only a couple of people were around. None of the regulars. A guy working on his laptop, and another girl watching the snow fall over Union Square outside.
He walked over to the counter like he owned the place. He raised his voice. “You folk might want to leave,” he said. “This might get ugly.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. He must have a foot on me and his arms were as thick as my thighs. The two customers looked at me and I nodded. “Best to leave, yeah.” They hurried out. What were the odds either of them would call the cops? Next to none. They’d think the other person would.
“You want something?” I asked.
The man picked up a cup and threw it at the wall next to my head, probably intending to make me flinch. I caught it as it flew by my head and set it back down. The PTSD and emotional trauma did come with some upsides.
“So you’re Elizabeth, I take?” eyes narrowed.
I went with the classic response. “Depends on who’s asking.”
He sneered. “Nobody’s asking, *sweetheart,*” he said. “We’ve been keeping track of what kind of clientele you serve. The rotten. The wannabes. The worst of the worst.”
“Strange,” I mused. “None of them have ever threatened me in my own workplace. Truly, nothing screams paragon of virtue like trying to intimidate women.”
He walked over to a table, picked it up with one hand and threw it against the wall. The table shattered and left a dent in the wall. He picked up a metal chair and, looking me in the eyes, bent it in half.
I rolled my eyes. “You realize you’re paying for that, right?”
He laughed and continued to wreck the place. Tables, chairs, vases, whatever he could find his hands on, grinning all the time. This was just pathetic, this is what the League had resorted to? Petty intimidation? And it could only be the League with their idiotic ideals of heroism. The government weren’t a bunch of thugs, and anyone else wouldn’t have bothered with the intimidation, they would’ve tried to kill me. Honestly, I would have preferred that. That was honest. This though…
“Are you done?” I asked as he sauntered back over to me.
“For now I am,” he said, again with that grin showing impeccable teeth. I was tempted to punch him…but no. I was out. I didn’t interfere anymore. It wasn’t worth it. “Now listen here, no more serving your “regulars,” yeah? Tell them someone, ah, tipped you off to what they really are. And that you don't serve their kind."
“They don’t trash the place, and tip well. They seem like better customers than you are.”
He leaned closer, looking me dead in the eyes. “Now, the League is protecting all of you from…maniacs like them, maybe you should be a little grateful.” He straightened. “You know, it might get some people thinking, why would any self-respecting citizen serve people like them. Might give the League the wrong idea...”
A handful of people sauntered into the shop snow on their shoulders. “I heard you were having trouble, Liz,” the man in the lead, Jon, said. Behind him, there was Rory, her red hair falling out of her fur hood and Michel, his dark skin a sharp contrast to the winter wonderland outside.
“Oh, speak of the devil,” the Leaguer said and *smiled.*” Actually smiled. He couldn’t see the tension in the air. I could feel it. Didn't realize how screwed he was.
“Jon, Rory, Mike,” I said, nodding to each of them. “What brings you here.”
“Heard a bull was running around in your shop, Liz,” Jon said, his eyes locked on the intruder. “Thought you could use some help getting it out.”
“Look, don’t worry about it,” I said, asshole or not the guy looked in his 20s. “He’s just a kid, let him go.”
He swiveled towards me, eyes ablaze. I mentally chastised myself. I hadn't thought before speaking. Forgot how sentimental these young heroes were.
“A kid? Listen bitch,” he spat, “I’ll show you how much of a kid I really am.” I saw the punch coming a mile away – really those idiots with super strength were always slow for some reason, and moved to the side, but I needn’t have bothered. The kid flew back and hit the wall with a wet sounding thud and a crack. One second he was in front of the counter reaching for me, the next he was against the wall, a red stain on the wall, his neck at an unnatural angle.
I put my head in my hands. “Jesus fucking Christ, Jon,” I snarled.
Jon frowned at me, moving his hand back down – he didn’t actually need to move his hand to use telekinesis – he just liked to show off. “He was going to hit you, Liz.”
“Seriously? You think that idiot could have even *touched* me?”
“I don’t know, Liz,” Rory spoke, laughing, “You’ve been out for a long time…”
I glared at her. “Now the league will investigate, things will only go downhill.”
Jon’s voice was laced with steel. “The League won’t fucking dare.”
I knew that tone of voice. “Jon no…”
But he was already turning away. “C’mon Rory, Mike. Let’s have a chat with the local League office.”
I surveyed the broken tables, the body, the blood. "Leaving the adult to clean up the mess..." I muttered uncharitably and went in the back to get the bleach.
***
Due to demand, I present
[Part 2: Blood on the Snow](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/comments/9q1h8u/urban_fantasy_blood_on_the_snow_out_of_retirement/?)
If you enjoyed, check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| "So then the guy pulls a gun out, and well... you know the story from th-"
"OH MY GOD!"
The group of supposed friends stopped in place and looked upon the cafe the frequented. The modest hole-in-the-wall coffee bean shop looked as though there was some sort of struggle. The windows were broken, some of the bar stools and tables were laying in the street, broken; there was even the handle to a ceramic mug.. though the rest of it was yet to be seen. The most heartbreaking part of this obvious violent struggle was the sign that usually hing above the door, now lay in splinters. The words, "Doc's Place" were no longer legible, but the D in it remained unscathed.
A few of them ran inside to see what happened, but Maria, AKA BloodHound the city's masked private eye detective and night time vigilante investigated the scene. What first caught the detective off guard was the lack of any police investigation. "If there was a huge struggle, why were the police not called?" She murmured to herself while examining a shard of glass. "Maybe the mob paid them off?" She was once more surprised to find the shatter pattern to be coming out of the restaurant. She then recalled the furniture. Perhaps thrown threw it...?
Inside, the disaster seemed much more appalling. Doc was nowhere to be found, and so Alexandra, AKA Power Kat, hopped over the barista bar and hurried into the back kitchen. This left Derrick and Pedro, AKA Guy Glory and QuetzalCoatal, to try and piece together what may have have happened.
"Anything Q?" Guy asked while using his super vision to see any impressions left on the floor.
"Nada... No familiar scents. Place is wrecked, bro." The undercover hero replied. His tongue tasted the air briefly. "If anything happened here, it happened a while ago."
"14 hours ago, to be precise..." Bloodhound replied, stepping throught the door. "It's strange... no blood, no gore, not even a fingerprint..."
Meanwhile in the back, Power Kat was relieved to find their favorite barista seemingly unscathed. Doc was back there, cleaning up some mugs in the sink. "What da- oh, hey there Alex... Sorry, I forgot to put up an open sign. Don't worry, I'll finish up here in a sec and get your guys' regular orders in a jiffy." Doc said as though he weren't standing in the middle of a thorough trashing.
She let out a sigh of relief as Doc went back to cleaning. "Are you okay though? What happened?" She asked, closing the distance between them.
"Heh, I'm fine kitty cat." He looked back at her with a smile. "No need to go and frown. Don'tcha know? It's easier to smile."
Alexandra sighed and left him to his dishes, though not without a passing hand on the shoulder. She rejoined the group in the destroyed cafe as a table was stood up along with a couple chairs.
Now, if anyone were to hazard a guess to this group being college friends coming to chew the fat early in the morning at a little niche-coffee shop, they would be wrong. You see, each of them are in fact heroes and or vigilantes of some description. Are they a super crime-fighting team? No. In fact each of them are loners who sometimes happen to cross paths every so often.
Pedro is actually the reincarnation of an Incan god. He possesses powers of flight, strength, and superhuman senses as well as the power to breath fire. When his powers first arose, he found himself without any who would understand.
Derrick was a military and DARPA experiment gone wrong. He was supposed to be the next super soldier, but then they turned tail on him and tried to strike all evidence from the record due to some unethical chemicals being used. Long story short, he ran away.
Maria used to be a police officer, but when the department turned dirty, she gave up the badge and took up a mask and decided to expose them. She succeeded, and is still chasing down the mob who turned those cops dirty.
Alexandra was in line to become an olympic body builder. Then, one day, they told her that she was ineligible because they assumed she was using some sort of drugs to enhance herself unfairly. Nothing was proven, but because of that, she lost the chance to be a real competitor. So instead, she decided to beat the snot out of any drug dealer, or bank robber she could find. Over time, she became bulletproof, insanely strong, and skillfully nimble.
All of these heroes were loners, but enjoyed each others company on their time off. In truth, it was Doc's place that brought them together. It was the only 24 hour place that still used real coffee beans that wasn't overly crowded all the time. It gave them time to brood, to talk and eventually to become comfortable.
"Here ya go. Sorry for the wait. Got a lot to clean up." He chuckled while setting the yable with four mugs with creamer and sugar. The old barista then went about wiping off the counter, casing glass to tinkle off the floor as it fell.
"Doc. What happened?" Guy Glory asked after an uncomfortable silence.
"Oh, just some rough customers. Nothing serious." He said nonchalantly.
"Did you call the police?" Power Kat asked.
"Hmm... naw. I'm not gonna press charges." He replied, to which QuetzaCoatal nearly spat out his coffee.
"Why the hell not? You crazy?" He said with anger. "The police need to know!"
"Naw, they don't. To be honest, I'm surprised something like this didn't happen sooner." Doc chuckled. "Always knew this is what the next step would be."
He sighed out a long aigh, letting his age get to his face. "It's hard to be angry anymore. You youngin's with your supervision and ready to jump at the drop of a hat." Jhe shook his head and leaned down to pick up the pieces of a mug. "Whenever one of you would break a mug, you'd get upset and try to apologize... it's just a mug. If there's anything that can be said about it, it's are you okay?"
He gave them all a look. They couldn't meet it. "I'm not mad about the mugs, or the floor, or the tables, or the store. Too hard to be angry about stuff like that. It's what I told the kid last night too. He broke my mug and asked if I was upset. I told him no. So he broke another... and another... then my shop. I tried saving him..."
"Don't worry doc." Bloodhound replied. "We can still save him... like you saved us..."
Doc chuckled. "That's all I need to hear. Go and pay it forward." | 2022-11-10T02:01:25 | 2018-10-20T22:47:10 | 1,330 | 11 |
[WP] You're the owner of a cafe frequently visited by vigilantes and anti-heroes who absolutely adore your sweetness and acceptance of who they are. One day, though, a particularly rude customer comes in and trashes the place. Your friends aren't too happy to hear about that. | Glass crunched underfoot, and I shifted the broken glass with my foot and took in the rest of the scene. The broken windows were bad, but it was the pictures. My breath caught and I pressed my fingers over my eyes.
I'd opened this little diner back in the 80s. We were in the bad part of town, it was all I could afford, but I'd wanted this cafe since I was a little girl. Bacon eggs and pancakes were staples, but my Belgian Waffles were what really put Sal's Place on the map. I made all the donuts, and everyone knew they had one chance to get them.
We didn't get supers, not like the uptown places did. Sunshine Deli had pictures of the Wonder Twins and Moongirl, signed and dated. And you could be sure to catch Mr. Impossible every other Sunday if you could afford $12 lattes. I attracted what I liked to call Irregulars. Boys and girls didn't have much in the way of family or trust funds, but set about righting wrongs - often with their fists or with guns. But they did like omelettes.
Digger was the first one who came regularly. Always in the same booth, always the same order. Biscuits and sausage gravy with black coffee. When I read stories about him, it was always about how some rapist or mugger had been buried up to his neck near some fire ants. He'd never been caught, but some surveillance video had surfaced. And his fingernails were always so dirty.
"Here you go, sweetie," I said sliding the bowl with the biscuits and gravy over. I added dish of fruit salad, and he looked at me with those dark eyes of his set in his pale face. "Didn't order this, ma'am."
"I know, hon, it's on the house. You need a bit of fruit, and I don't want to hear anything more about it," and I bustled off filling coffee cups, clearing tables and taking orders. When I cleared his table, his fruit dish was empty and I pocketed a nice tip. Next time he'd added the fruit to his order.
"Ma'am," he said and I swear he was blushing. "Noticed that some of your walls were a little blank. If you'd excuse my forwardness, I think I could take some pictures of folk and start making a wall. I talked to some of the other irregulars and they thought it'd be nice for you."
To say that hadn't been on my mind would be a lie. But money was tight, had to pay rent of the restaurant, plus buying all the food, heat and hot water. Then there was Mothball, my cat. She'd been sick earlier and that had put a dent in what little savings I had managed to scrape together.
"Oh, hon, I don't know what to say," I managed, my throat feeling tight. He put his thick hand on mine and squeezed it gently. "You don't need to say anything, Miss Sal. We're happy to help you out." And they'd started putting their pictures up - always with masks on, or looking appropriately spooky. Silly kids. I worried about them all the time. And sometimes they got hurt. Sometimes killed. The juke always played loud on those days, and I made sure the coffee was hot and everyone got whipped cream on their pancakes.
The sound of running water made me rush to the kitchen, it was awash with water overflowing from the sink. I shut off the faucets and looked in, the drains had been plugged with dishrags. I reached into the cold water and pulled them out. The water gurgled and ran down, but it was too late to save most of the floor. A small sob escaped. My little dream. My small way of making this shithole part of town a better place. A broken soggy ruin.
Feeling numb, I wandered back into the dining room. Cans of paint had been hurled at my wall of Irregulars. Most of the frames were shattered, photos cut and torn and covered with paint.
I gently brushed the shards of glass away, and picked up Digger's photo, it was torn in half, his small little half-smile, more than anyone else saw ever, looked broken. I sniffed and put it on the counter and picked up Ghost-Dog's photo, it was dripping with the water that had leaked in from the kitchen. Rag-Tag, Little Pete, and Dark Mila had all been covered in paint. My friends. My little lost family.
The bell rang, and I whirled around clutching my pictures, but suddenly feeling very alone. But it was Digger, his dark eyes took in the scene and locked on me. His face was like still water, deep and dangerous and I moved over to him and slid my hand around his arm.
"Listen to me, sweetie, I need you to listen good. I want you to call everyone you know and tell them to meet me here. We have work to do..."
He looked at me for a long time and then nodded.
***
I looked around at the ring of faces. We were sitting in the ruin of my diner. The faces around me were grim, and I felt a deep sense of sadness. Every scar was a story that broke my heart. And I know, deep down that if they found out who did this there would be nothing but blood. But they had brought what I asked for. Cans of paint, hammers and nails, and tarps. Digger brought new frames and Dark Mila brought her camera.
"I've worked hard to make Sal's a place where you always feel welcome and where you get a taste of sweetness. For some of you," I said looking at Digger, "this is the only sweetness you will ever know. If you help me with this, you're making a promise. A promise that you want to make the world kinder - even if this is all you do and you go back to your night jobs same as you do. It's not nothing."
Vandal reached out and squeezed my hand, and I saw Digger wipe the back of his hand across his eyes.
"Thanks for helping me fix my little broken dream," I said, my voice choking up. "Now let's get to work."
(edit a typo - also edited my edit since apparently I floated it in the middle of the story - stupid whiskey)
| "So then the guy pulls a gun out, and well... you know the story from th-"
"OH MY GOD!"
The group of supposed friends stopped in place and looked upon the cafe the frequented. The modest hole-in-the-wall coffee bean shop looked as though there was some sort of struggle. The windows were broken, some of the bar stools and tables were laying in the street, broken; there was even the handle to a ceramic mug.. though the rest of it was yet to be seen. The most heartbreaking part of this obvious violent struggle was the sign that usually hing above the door, now lay in splinters. The words, "Doc's Place" were no longer legible, but the D in it remained unscathed.
A few of them ran inside to see what happened, but Maria, AKA BloodHound the city's masked private eye detective and night time vigilante investigated the scene. What first caught the detective off guard was the lack of any police investigation. "If there was a huge struggle, why were the police not called?" She murmured to herself while examining a shard of glass. "Maybe the mob paid them off?" She was once more surprised to find the shatter pattern to be coming out of the restaurant. She then recalled the furniture. Perhaps thrown threw it...?
Inside, the disaster seemed much more appalling. Doc was nowhere to be found, and so Alexandra, AKA Power Kat, hopped over the barista bar and hurried into the back kitchen. This left Derrick and Pedro, AKA Guy Glory and QuetzalCoatal, to try and piece together what may have have happened.
"Anything Q?" Guy asked while using his super vision to see any impressions left on the floor.
"Nada... No familiar scents. Place is wrecked, bro." The undercover hero replied. His tongue tasted the air briefly. "If anything happened here, it happened a while ago."
"14 hours ago, to be precise..." Bloodhound replied, stepping throught the door. "It's strange... no blood, no gore, not even a fingerprint..."
Meanwhile in the back, Power Kat was relieved to find their favorite barista seemingly unscathed. Doc was back there, cleaning up some mugs in the sink. "What da- oh, hey there Alex... Sorry, I forgot to put up an open sign. Don't worry, I'll finish up here in a sec and get your guys' regular orders in a jiffy." Doc said as though he weren't standing in the middle of a thorough trashing.
She let out a sigh of relief as Doc went back to cleaning. "Are you okay though? What happened?" She asked, closing the distance between them.
"Heh, I'm fine kitty cat." He looked back at her with a smile. "No need to go and frown. Don'tcha know? It's easier to smile."
Alexandra sighed and left him to his dishes, though not without a passing hand on the shoulder. She rejoined the group in the destroyed cafe as a table was stood up along with a couple chairs.
Now, if anyone were to hazard a guess to this group being college friends coming to chew the fat early in the morning at a little niche-coffee shop, they would be wrong. You see, each of them are in fact heroes and or vigilantes of some description. Are they a super crime-fighting team? No. In fact each of them are loners who sometimes happen to cross paths every so often.
Pedro is actually the reincarnation of an Incan god. He possesses powers of flight, strength, and superhuman senses as well as the power to breath fire. When his powers first arose, he found himself without any who would understand.
Derrick was a military and DARPA experiment gone wrong. He was supposed to be the next super soldier, but then they turned tail on him and tried to strike all evidence from the record due to some unethical chemicals being used. Long story short, he ran away.
Maria used to be a police officer, but when the department turned dirty, she gave up the badge and took up a mask and decided to expose them. She succeeded, and is still chasing down the mob who turned those cops dirty.
Alexandra was in line to become an olympic body builder. Then, one day, they told her that she was ineligible because they assumed she was using some sort of drugs to enhance herself unfairly. Nothing was proven, but because of that, she lost the chance to be a real competitor. So instead, she decided to beat the snot out of any drug dealer, or bank robber she could find. Over time, she became bulletproof, insanely strong, and skillfully nimble.
All of these heroes were loners, but enjoyed each others company on their time off. In truth, it was Doc's place that brought them together. It was the only 24 hour place that still used real coffee beans that wasn't overly crowded all the time. It gave them time to brood, to talk and eventually to become comfortable.
"Here ya go. Sorry for the wait. Got a lot to clean up." He chuckled while setting the yable with four mugs with creamer and sugar. The old barista then went about wiping off the counter, casing glass to tinkle off the floor as it fell.
"Doc. What happened?" Guy Glory asked after an uncomfortable silence.
"Oh, just some rough customers. Nothing serious." He said nonchalantly.
"Did you call the police?" Power Kat asked.
"Hmm... naw. I'm not gonna press charges." He replied, to which QuetzaCoatal nearly spat out his coffee.
"Why the hell not? You crazy?" He said with anger. "The police need to know!"
"Naw, they don't. To be honest, I'm surprised something like this didn't happen sooner." Doc chuckled. "Always knew this is what the next step would be."
He sighed out a long aigh, letting his age get to his face. "It's hard to be angry anymore. You youngin's with your supervision and ready to jump at the drop of a hat." Jhe shook his head and leaned down to pick up the pieces of a mug. "Whenever one of you would break a mug, you'd get upset and try to apologize... it's just a mug. If there's anything that can be said about it, it's are you okay?"
He gave them all a look. They couldn't meet it. "I'm not mad about the mugs, or the floor, or the tables, or the store. Too hard to be angry about stuff like that. It's what I told the kid last night too. He broke my mug and asked if I was upset. I told him no. So he broke another... and another... then my shop. I tried saving him..."
"Don't worry doc." Bloodhound replied. "We can still save him... like you saved us..."
Doc chuckled. "That's all I need to hear. Go and pay it forward." | 2018-10-20T23:57:04 | 2018-10-20T22:47:10 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] You're a murder victim for hire. As an immortal masochist, no job could suit you better. You're happy to substitute for assassination targets, disgruntled lovers, and would be serial victims. Until one day, strapped to a serial killer's table, they lean in and say, "Have we met before?"
[removed] | The blade lowered to just below his abdomen, spinning menacingly. Jeff was positively delighted, though he tried his best to not show it.
"Oh no, please don't kill me, oh no," he said, keenly aware that he wasn't quite selling it. The serial killer glanced at him, distracted from his work.
"Could you be quiet?" the serial killer asked, wiping his brow with a gloved hand. "You don't seem to particularly scared, you know."
"Oh no, trust me, you're doing a great job," Jeff replied, pushing out his stomach and managing to tear off a small chunk of skin just below the bellybutton. He smiled. "See? Sharp as a scalpel. I can see you take pride in your work."
The serial killer shook his head, as if trying to shake off a feeling. Eventually he could contain it no more.
"Listen, I know this is a bit of an awkward question, given the situation and all," the killer said, "but have we met before? This all seems so *familiar*."
Jeff squinted at the man, as the realization slowly dawned on him. "Oh my God. Jordan, is that you? Why, look at you - you're all grown up!"
Jordan's face recoiled in shock. "No, no, you must have me mistaken for somebody else-"
"I can't believe it!" Jeff continued, breaking free from his restraints and sitting up on the table. "God, look at you! Look at how much you've grown! You were barely a teen when we first met."
Shock and revulsion suddenly overcame Jordan, feeling trapped in his own kill den.
"No," he said, looking at him wildly, "I killed you. You were one of my first. I *know* I killed you."
"You most certainly did," Jeff said, wiping a tear from his eye, "and what a kill it was. You were a bit sloppy, no doubt - but I could see you had it in you to be a real stone-cold killer. And here we are. What an absolute pleasure it is to see you like this."
Jordan began to drop the chainsaw, but Jeff grabbed it before he could.
"Oh no *no*, we're just getting started," Jeff said, putting the weapon back into his hands. "You can't just leave me like this."
Jordan looked like he was about to vomit. He tried to back away, but Jeff grabbed his arm with an iron grip.
"Trust me Jordan, if you don't finish this," he continued, suddenly deadly serious, "*I'll kill you myself.*"
****
****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | "You sometimes get too caught up. It's the name of the job. Playing a role of a murder victim can get exhausting. I don't really know how to explain it. I enjoy the blood. I never die, but I experience the killing. There is a certain thrill I guess. It get's boring though, all superficial and nothing deeper than the crust of a pie since I never really die. There's no real risk.
&#x200B;
Maybe it would be better if I could die, oh then what a joy! What an absolute pleasure that I will never get to experience.
&#x200B;
Perhaps this is why people kill, to do others a favor. Death is the ultimate escape from reality. Who wants to live in this dredge called life? Where evilness overflows and overtakes and slowly consumes your entire being until nothing is left except that evil trace that once upon a time you fought against.
&#x200B;
Trust me, I experience this evil daily. Can you believe that there are some people trying to prevent murders? Stemming the proliferation of the ultimate gift. It's probably envy. Maybe they should experience death too before they rage against it.
&#x200B;
Anyways, so yeah, how do I get my clients? Hm, it's a pretty simple process actually. The night when the moon shines the brightest, I always receive an anonymous call. Bzzz, static at first, then a low incomprehensible talking. At this point, my heart rate increases and blood flows to my cheeks. I also get sexually aroused.
&#x200B;
The call continues into very clear and well spoken man, demanding that I kill "Bill" that fucker or "Jane" who very obviously took my needed promotion through deceptive means.
&#x200B;
Wait, sorry, did I say kill? No, I play the role of all the Bills and the Janes. I study them. I study who they are, what they do, where they live, their daily routine. I absorb their whole personality and psyche. I am now Bill. I am now Jane.
&#x200B;
When the time to kill comes, I am ready. I can feel the emotions they feel, the terror they feel, the trickle of blood and the shock when they realize for the first time how much blood the human body can actually produce.
&#x200B;
It was a particularly shiny night. That night, that damned night, something was wrong. My entire room was bathed in the palest of lights, but still no call came. Oh well, I've been waiting the entire fucking month may as well pretend to be a murder victim anyways. So that's what I did, I played myself as the victim.
&#x200B;
That's when everything made perfect sense. The serial killer leaned down and whispered to me with the saccharine tone of a lover, 'Have we met before?'.
&#x200B;
'Have we met before?'
&#x200B;
'Have we met before?'
&#x200B;
Oh honey, of course we have!"
&#x200B;
\- Sanctimony Maximum Security Prison, 6/27/18 | 2018-11-22T01:51:04 | 2018-11-22T01:40:01 | 251 | 30 |
[WP] Dragons are extinct in the wild, but the royal house still has a brood pair that has had a clutch every twenty-one years for several centuries. Each hatchling imprints on a member of the royal bloodline; and only on royals. When the latest clutch hatched, the littlest one chose you. A commoner. |
My first attempt at answering a prompt. Written at 2am on a cellphone. Please forgive all the mistakes.
Hope you like it! Also hope it abides the rules!
---
Nan has talked of the dragons since I was big enough to sit up at her feet and listen. The stories have always excited me in a way I can not describe. Listening to them; my spine tingles, my heart races, and I can not be torn away. Great beasts. Loyal. Strong. Brave. It was easy to tell why they were the mascots of the royal family. As the tale goes, dragons unfortunately were cast all but extinct over a thousand years ago. They had been hunted, as warriors believed if they ate from their flesh they would be given their strengths in battle. So, it came to be that only a single mating pair was left alive in all of the realms. Once every twenty-one Years they would give birth to a single clutch of eggs. Two infant dragonlings would emerge. It was those two scaly babes that would set up the government of the four kingdoms for the next twenty-one years. Each kingdom would send their royal children to the center city. The youth would be presented and two would be chosen to rule, each one imprinted on by a dragonling.
It has taken her seven years, but Nan has finally saved up enough gold pieces to take me to the choosing ceremony. She has worked day and night to do this for me, and I can hardly believe we are here, and on my fourteenth birthday too! The sights and smells of this part of the city are so unfamiliar and so sterile to me. There is no rubbish or debris in the streets. There are not children, elderly, and disabled huddled against the sides of buildings. No, to be perfectly honest this sector is almost beautiful with its pristine azure streets and translucent glass windows. The detail in the architecture could keep me entertained for years.
This year's ceremony is even more special, because a horde of radicals, looking to overturn our way of life, made it into the castle some time ago and they murdered the last of the living dragons. Dragon eggs are indestructible, as we all know, so the twin clutch was saved. But they were sadly orphaned, left the very last of their kind. Today will be historic because never again will we see a choosing ceremony. In our lifetime, or any other.
"It is time!" I hear the herald to the king bellow. "Everyone, silent! We must have utter silence!"
I watch as a cluster of young royals is ushered forward. Some as small as infants. Others, grown men with full beards and twice my size.
It appears as though Ember Isle has produced a collection of four heirs. All of them are girls, each one even more beautiful than the last with their deep brown skin, coal colored eyes, and ashen hair. The youngest is all of a few summers old, barely standing up to the knee of the next, then a set of twins about my age and another girl who must have been well on her way at the time of the last choosing.
Terra Plains and Sortagan each brought a few youngsters, all young teens within a couple of years of me, in either direction. Thirteen in total. You can tell the Terrapins from the Sortagans by their garb, one tribe dressed in green while the other in marching solid white uniforms. Also by the color of heir hair, Sortagans have hair the color of snow. Every one of them. Every descendant. While Terrapins come in a whole array of shades. I spot a young red haired boy holding hands with a black haired girl.
There is only a single member of the MaChee tribe. He towers over the other kids, muscular build, tall, stoic expression. His skin is tanned and his long brown hair in a warrior's ponytail. But his face is young, so young you can tell he hasn't begun to shave yet. You can not tell it by looking at him, but I can't help but wonder if he is as terrified up there as the other kids seem.
All of a sudden, without warning, a hatchling with glistening emerald scales, a female, bursts away from its handler and dives into the arms of the sole MaChee boy. The crowd roars in approval!
"And so, without a moment of hesitation," the herald laughs, "your eastern king has been chosen!"
The herald waves his arms at the boy summoning him forward. "Come, come... give us your name."
The boy mumbles something that the herald repeats with a bellowing tone, "Nimuel! Well, congratulations Nimuel! May you serve us well!" And with that, the boy falls face first onto the floor in a faint.
It takes some time with all the commotion before someone notices the remaining hatchling, another female, has not imprinted on any of the children yet. It doesn't have to be a girl, any child can be chosen. Traditionally they rule by tandem committee, and aren't required to be wed. As a matter of a fact, betrothal of the chosen is strictly forbidden. Finally a man not far from me in the audience shouts, "hey! What's taking so long?! Why haven't we chosen the second heir?! We don't have all eternity anymore!"
In that moment it seemed as though the heart of the tiny sapphire beast had completely broken. With water filled eyes she looked up at the crowd and began to cry a tiny squeaking bleat, like a baby sheep, obviously frightened by the man's sudden outburst. I felt my heart break too, just as hers did. I wish I could protect her from this. She may be as big as a horse, but she's only a few hours old. I watch her closely and then we lock eyes and every single person around me falls to their knees and begins to bow in my direction!
"My queen," the herald says. "Come forward."
| When the crowd starts screaming, I know they've been spotted. The cacophany of voices gets louder and louder, and I shove myself through until I reach the barrier. There! I hold up my phone and take a picture through the fence. Standing on the steps of the palace is the royal family. It must be a nightmare for so many of them to be here, considering security and other factors. I turn around with an obvious grin on my face, much to the annoyance of Andrew.
"Honey" he says, "It isn't that big of a deal. Seeing royalty isn't as important as you sesm to think."
I snap to his side. "Well why are all these people here? There isn't any major event; no births or deaths or marriages. I doubt these people came to admire the roses."
He rolls his eyes in exasperation. "You're acting like such a tourist."
"But I am a tourist," I respond, placing special emphasis on the "am". "You'd act the same way if you were in Hollywood and saw your favorite actor."
He shrugs and brings me in for an embrace. He picks me up and spins me around until I start to get dizzy. I giggle uncontrollably, and we get some odd looks as the people nearby make space. He finally puts me down, and I teeter around a little. I'm seeing stars, but then I notice something peculiar-it appears like some of the grass near the fence is on fire.
I chuckle and hold onto Andrew. I laugh and say, "You shouldn't do that. I can't even see straight." However, as my eyes adjust, I realize that the grass is indeed on fire. My eyes open, and I point towards what I see. His eyes follow my finger, but he sees nothing. He looks to me with confusion in his eyes, but I say nothing. I grab his hand and push my way through the crowd, one hand constantly in contact with the warm metal bars. Maybe if I get far enough, he'll be able to see it.
Suddenly, my arm goes straight through the fencing. I tumble forwards, landing on my chest. Andrew falls with me, but he falls onto the fence instead. He starts screaming immediately. "Someone get a doctor!"
I turn around and look up at him. He pushed me down and tells me not to move while someone comes. I am obviously confused, but he is too when nobody even reacts to our presence. I ask him what's wrong, and he simply responds, "You have a shard of fencing sticking out of your chest."
I immediately sit up and pat myself down, feeling for any protruding objects. Andrews eyes go glassy white, and he fumbles his hand around until he grabs my leg. "You just vanished!" he exclaims. I take his hand and start to walk. It's only after I actuslly see where I am that I realize that I'm now standing in the guarded section, behind the fencing, with my flabbergasted boyfriend still clutching my hand.
I turn around and go towards a beacon of light that seems to be eminating from a section of the wall in front of me, and I instinctively put my hand on the wall. As soon as I touch the brick, I feel the solid forces cave to my touch. I glance at my boyfriend. "No matter what happens, do not let go of my hand. I don't know what's going on, but I have a feeling that it is essential for Andrew's safety that I hold onto him. I push forwards and feel the wall surround me like gelatin. After a long minute of constant pressure, we startle into a room on the other side.
The entire room was a complete juxtaposition. Parts of it were ancient. They weren't necessarily medieval, but the walls could easily have been over a century old. But bright and illuminating ceiling lights bathed the section in stark white, but most of the room remained enveloped in shadows, even when it probably shouldn't be. Right next to a door older than me was a computer terminal that looks like something you would see in the White House Situation Room. The most interesting part, however, was a beautiful and vibrant purple egg surrounded by state of the art incubators. I hear Andrew yelling my name, but all I can think about is this beautiful piece of art. It must be a piece of art, mustn't it?
I step forward again and again and again. Andrew has left my side, but that doesn't matter. This beautiful relic is calling my name and I must answer. Sitting on such a pretty pedestal, it shimmers. I bring my hand to rest on it, and I feel its warmth. I return to the present and look around. Andrew is fiddling with the controls, and I glare daggers at him. "Andrew! What are you doing?"
He looks down and flips a switch before looking back at me. "I was just looking for the lights. You know. The lights to a mysterious room in the BUCKINGHAM PALACE that we entered through a MAGICAL PORTAL!" He calms down and looks at me. "Why are you touching a damn holy relic? If we get caught in here, we'll never see the light of day." I absently stroke the relic's scaly surface and feel it moving. I look down just as Andrew finds a light switch and bathes the room in white. I notice a tiny beak stick through and poke next to my hand.
I jolt upwards when Andrew starts screaming. I look at him, then see that he's pointing to thr far end of the room. I turn around, and see over a dozen dragons, ranging in size from a bathtub to a double decker bus. I move to run away before they get to me, but I find that I am transfixed. I realize that I am touching a dragon's egg, and I have no way to escape. Suddenly, the incubator lights go out, and one of the larger dragons begins to slowly tromp its way towards me. Concurrently, I hear an alarm begin to sound. A few seconds pass by before the dragon pokes its head out.
The door slams open and I see the queen and half the royal family in the hall. At the exact same time, the giant lizard that could eat me in a second walks by me with nary a glance, and I hear a small 5 year old girl in my head. I look down at the hatchling and realize what's happening just as I make out her words.
"Do you want to be my friend?"
| 2019-01-12T22:12:29 | 2019-01-12T22:09:49 | 49 | 21 |
[WP] You are Dog to which dyslexic people sometimes address their prayers. You do your best to help because you're a good boy, but alas, you are a dog. | The voices of supplicants came to my mind, in overwhelming numbers. Of course, I had an intense desire to be their comfort, their savior, the grantor of wishes. I wanted to help them all. It would make them happy, which I know is my sole reason to be. I felt like Jim Carrey in that black and white classic “Bruce Almighty.” The power, though, conflicts me. I do not want this.
I just wanted some belly rubs and a good stick.
My name is Bailey. I am a good boy. I do not know how I came to know this.
| Dog is a good boy. Does what he’s told when he’s told. Dog is always learning new tricks. He’s always helping people with their problems. You see, Dog is constantly addressed strange letters with some unusual requests. They always start out with “Dear doG”. He tries to help but, he can’t always do so. Over the years the letters began to pile up by Dog’s little dog house. It had always made him sad to see the commands and tricks he couldn’t do. Until one day as an old pupper, Dog had had enough. He let out a wheeze and small grunt then closed his eyes. He sat there in his little dog bed for days. Not even a single twitch or tail wag. Then after an entire month of laying in his bed, Dog woke up. He was radiating with the energy of a million good boys. Dog knew what he must do. He opened his third eye and with a wag of his tail he let out a small “arroo”. Then all was white.
(Im a mobile user so I’m sorry in advance for all grammatical errors and such) | 2019-03-25T07:16:17 | 2019-03-25T06:53:21 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] You're throwing a ball around with your dog and he's loving it. Then, he stops dead still. He takes a quick sniff and looks up at you and says "I'm not supposed to do this, but you need to get inside right now". He looks off into the distance, "They're coming".
Wow, was not expecting this, thanks for the silver:) and the gold:)) | My dearest companion runs, despite the confusion on her face after I give growled barks with my warning. I talk loud enough for the cat to hear.
“Do you see them, Perrywinkles?”
“No Snuggles, that I don’t. But I can sense their presence.” Her hair stands up on its end and she looks as if she’s ready to pounce. “I’ll hold shield you as much as I can, but you’ll have to make a quick job of it.” Perrywinkles backs away from the window as I feel her power shield rising.
As I sink my paws into the ground, I go into a circle, what normal companions might call “chasing tail”. I’m glad however I’ve kept in practice the physicality of this summoning spell. A storm erupts and a tornado wraps around me. In the maelstrom, my body changes. It struggles at first, as it’s been a while since I’ve grown a human body, but quickly my mind remembers, built on the love of my companion and to protect her (my duty since I was a younger pup). I jump from the clouds, my human form springing to the ground, sliding into the wet grass in full armor, sword and shield at the ready.
As the wind calms, I hear the thunderous, but high pitched whine.
“Here they some Snuggles!!”
I shift my visor of my helmet down with a clang.
“For the glory of Lupica, I lay down my life to protect my Companion”.
&#x200B;
*NOTE: Yes this is a start, but, let me know if this is a good one!!*
*EDIT: Continued the story from another prompt (as it was along the lines of what I wanted to go for):* [*https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cer6c6/wp\_your\_mother\_was\_a\_scammer\_of\_the\_supernatural/eu59g0f/*](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cer6c6/wp_your_mother_was_a_scammer_of_the_supernatural/eu59g0f/) | I’m new to creative writing so feedback welcomed.
Hope was more than an ordinary yellow lab. She was more than a playful ball of energy. I am blind, and Hope was my guide dog. Hope gave me a new perspective on life. She never complained about all the traveling at college, and she was always up for a new adventure.
Every day after class, Hope and I would go to the green area on campus to play ball. I took off her harness, threw the ball, and Hope was off. I tossed, she retrieved. Playing ball was our way of winding down. However, today felt different, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. With my arm growing tired, I threw the ball once more and waited for Hope to retrieve it.
Suddenly, I felt a shift in the air. There was an eery silence. The birds stopped chirping. The wind stopped blowing. I thought it might be about to storm since Florida weather can be highly unpredictable. I called out to Hope figuring that we would just head back inside as always, and waited for her to return with that beloved ball. But I could no longer hear her paws hitting against the grass. I could no longer hear her playful panting as she ran to get the ball. And I definitely could not see her. Thinking I may have thrown it a little too far, I continued to wait. Then, I heard a bark that only I knew. It was Hope. Was she ok? Her bark grew increasingly alarmed. She finally returned with the ball when out of nowhere, an unfamiliar voice exclaimed, "GET INSIDE! THEY ARE COMING!" I thought nothing of it. Then, it said, "I am Hope. You need to get inside right now."
I didn't know what was happening. I couldn't believe my dog just talked, but I didn't have time to think. I didn’t have time to ask who or what was coming. All I knew was that I had to trust her. Hope had guided me around so many obstacles. I knew now was not the time to doubt her training. I quickly ran back to my dorm. When I arrived, I found everyone in a panic. My mind ran through the worst possible scenarios for almost every college student. Maybe all the washers and dryer‘s were taken. Maybe Chick-fil-A was closed. Maybe someone forgot to put the water in the mac & cheese and almost caused a fire. Finally, I asked my friend what was going on?. She said, “What do you mean? How could you not know? It’s finals week, and we are all going to fail!” | 2019-07-15T15:47:27 | 2019-07-15T14:00:47 | 119 | 15 |
[WP] You have a unique ability to cause background music that everyone can hear, but no one can figure out where it's coming from. And the situation always follows the music's cue, for better or worse. | It wouldn't be fair to say I didn't expect this to happen. After all, with how crazy my playlist's tend to be, I barely have control of this newfound power of mine, but now that I find myself in the gym with Kyary Pamyu Pamyu's "PonPonPon" playing in the background non-stop, I can definitely assert that this is no blessing, this is a curse.
It all started about ten minutes ago. Everything was working fine, I was playing "Eye of the Tiger," and while confused, those around me seemed to gain strength from the melody. They were all working out to the rhythm of the catchy song. Even I, who has been known to have a tough time at the gym because of my weight, felt invigorated with each and every beat. Of course, not all good things last for long.
About a week ago, my sister had found this particular song on Youtube. There was nothing special about it, it was in Japanese, so no one in my family even understood what the song was about, but we paid it no mind since it had a nice rhythm to it. That's when it started. Like my dad would often times say "anything can lead to harm if done in excess." She started playing the song during car rides, family dinners, and even while I was trying to study. To my dismay, the accursed lyrics to the song had dug themselves into my brain with steel screws, and there was no getting them off.
A certain key in my head was pressed, and then record scratch.
"Eye of the Tiger" came to a stop, and then came that childish noise.
*No, no, no!*
The people in the gym were even more confused than before. Now unable to stop working out to the rhythm of "PonPonPon," some people even became frightened. There was no stopping it, the moment that song started in my head, it would go on forever, and the more I listened to it, the more it would play.
*What an annoying loop to be stuck on!*
The song kept playing for a total of two hours and thirty-four minutes, and it only stopped because I passed out from exhaustion.
A few hours later I arrived home. My parents seemed concerned because of my pale face, but paid it no mind when I told them I was fine. At least something good had come out of the situation though. It appeared as though my body had completely blocked out the song from listening to it so much, and I couldn't even think of it without getting a headache, let alone play it!
I raised a celebratory fist to the sky, then noticed a small shadow lurking under me.
"Hey big bro!" my little sister said in her signature squeaky voice.
I kneeled down and pat her head. "Hey sis" I said with a smile.
She clutched her Ipad in between her clammy fingers. She then held it out for me to see the screen.
"What is this?" I asked.
"It's a new song I found! Here, give it a listen!"
I could feel my heart sink to the ground as *Baby Shark* started playing from the speakers. | I slowly rose to my knees.
All around me lay the mutilated remains of my friends and fellow knights.
I looked up, and through the blood dripping down from my forehead I could see my enemy approaching.
Myco Laprae, the foul necromancer, and his army of the undead advanced upon me slowly. He began to clap patronizingly.
“I must say, your little last stand left much to be desired,” he taunted with a smirk.
His troops slowly surrounded me, their glowing and emotionless eyes felt like they were boring into my very soul.
“Your pitiful kingdom is now part of my domain,” Laprae boasted. “And as the new ruler, you shall serve as the first lesson for any of your countrymen who still believe resistance is a valid option.”
He motioned to one of his rotting soldiers, who shambled over to him front out of the ranks of its decomposing comrades.
The zombie presented Laprae with a wicked-looking dagger. I knew it well. That cursed blade was designed to inflict as much pain as possible, and many stories were told of it, whispered in taverns and muttered in alleys.
He took the blade and glanced at me, an evil smile spreading across his dreadful face.
My situation was bad, but it was not hopeless. I possessed a power, although my oaths as a knight prevented me from ever using it... at least, not again.
But now, I had no other option. This heathen could not be allowed to conquer my homeland.
I closed my eyes and concentrated. I once again tried to think of that strange, foreign land where I first heard the music. The music that gave me power.
I knew of several songs, each of which had its own power and effect. I had tried a few of them, but there was one I was too terrified to ever attempt.
The song sounded powerful and truly terrifying. But now, I would get to find out just how devastating it actually was.
As I heard the song in my head, I slowly began to hear the sound fading in around me.
Laprae and his troops looked around in shock. They had not a clue as to what was about to befall them.
Neither did I.
I could hear the song now. It began with lighting fast picking of an instrument that sounded like a lute. Then another instrument joined in. This instrument sounded like a stringed instrument of some kind, but with a growl.
Finally, the song kept building, until a barrage of drums and other instruments cut through the fog and smoke of the battlefield.
Laprae was shocked, and so was I at what began to happen. Flames erupted from the ground, consuming most of Laprae’s army and surrounding the rest of us in a ring of fire.
As a strange voice began to sing, something began to happen to me. I felt like I was growing in size, and in strength, too. I now stood on all fours, and possessed wings and a tail.
I had become one of the beasts I had always dreamed of slaying.
I gazed down to see terror seize Laprae’s visage.
I looked him in the eye, a sharp-toothed grin spreading across my scale-covered face.
As I prepared to unleash a breath of fire upon my foes, I sang along to the only words of the song that I knew...
[*”...Through the fire and the flames we carry on!”*](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=15JCb6P60Vw) | 2019-09-06T18:07:40 | 2019-09-06T18:07:02 | 242 | 104 |
[WP] Simultaneously, across the world, everyone hears a voice in their head. " In 2 hours, the server will be shutting down for the final time. Thank you for playing Human ®." | David sighed and made himself a cup of tea, and lowered the blinds to mute the sounds of screaming outside.
"I mean," David said to himself. "Certainly this makes quite a bit of sense, when you think about it."
He got out the last of the Oaties from the cabinet - the ones he was saving for company, not that company every came by - and sat it and his mug of tea down in his favorite armchair. "All this nonsense going on in the world with global warming, and Brexit, and the middle east, and that business with the Trump and somesuch. Couldn't quite put my finger on it."
The sound of breaking glass interrupted his thought, so David put some relaxing jazz music on spotify. He dipped the biscuit in the tea. It crumbled. That didn't bother him, he just reached for another one.
"I knew people weren't that short sighted and stupid. But you know, when a MMO starts losing popularity, they always have to try to do some sort of stunt to retain their user base."
David let the second biscuit settle on his tongue. "I can't say that this comes as some sort of a relief."
David looked back on his life, but not with regret, because there was nothing to regret. No consequence. He didn't fear his impending non-existence because there never was an existence in the first place.
"I do hope that I had a good time, being me, whoever I am", David pondered. I suppose I hope that maybe I've learned something. Though...", as David reached for another biscuit, no point in moderation now... "Though I suspect that I haven't. And that's okay too."
David's last thoughts before being disconnected forever was something along the lines of: "Hmm, I should have gotten a dog." | Two hours.
That's not enough time to fly across the border, what's more halfway across the world. There's just enough time to make it back home from the office if I leave now, and still get to see my parents.
Around me, my colleagues were doing the same, desperately trying to call their loved ones while dashing out the office. A slow realisation crept over me, and walking to the full length windows, I saw how chaos had descended upon us.
There's no way I'd be getting home now.
I grabbed the highest caloric snacks in the office and sat at my desk, casually tossing the laptop, stationary, mouse, and cups off my desk. Then, when there was just soft thuds, picked them up again and hurled them at the window. The tiny cracks in the glass and the loud shattering sounds eased my heart.
Sitting down at my desk, I took a deep breath and pulled out my phone. Opened WhatsApp and navigated to my archived Ex's chat. It's now or never. Holding down the voice message button, I began,
"I never once regretted being with you. Not once, not in my most consuming anger, to the engulfing sadness, no ounce of regret. Never, ever did I feel regret. Every time I saw your face, calm settled in me, anxiety slipped away. And I smiled. You made the loneliness go away, the agonising, heart-wrenching sadness of loneliness that haunted the seconds of my existence, you chased it away. You helped me find my laughter, expanded my universe of humour, of entertainment and enjoyment. You even made my shame into delights, how weird was that? Your nicknames were dumb and irritating at times, but man, even you calling me a cute little eggroll made me the happiest person on earth. I love you so much, I never stopped and I never will, no matter where we go after this ends. I love you so much, God I love you. I wish I never left, I wish I could have made it all perfect and forced our relationship to work out, but now that it's all ending, I wish I just stayed in our flawed perfection. I love you, I love you, I love you, I-"
The voice message had hit its limit, automatically sent.
I stared at the message as it kept trying to send, timer icon waiting, until finally.
One tick. | 2019-09-23T05:26:27 | 2019-09-23T04:27:58 | 24 | 12 |
[WP] The ritual calls for 100 sacrifices, but reading carefully you realize it never specified they had to be human. Deciding to be a smartass, you got a petri dish full of bacteria and sacrificed that instead. | Everything was in place. Candles were lit. Pentagram drawn. Demon's true name engraved in my mind. All that was left was the sacrifices. 100 big ones. At first I freaked out, where was I going to get 100 people to sacrifice without getting caught?
Then I noticed something. The scriptures never said the sacrifices had to be human. Or even animal. Being a natural smartass I decided to play with that. 100 bacteria. Counted exactly under a microscope.
It was finally time. I had finished reciting the summoning spell. I prepped my method of death for the microscopic beings, and I released it. I held my breath and waited, and waited.... and waited. What the heck? I'm sure I did everything perfectly. The only thing would be if there was some missing sacrifices. I quickly put the petri dish under the scope, and I gasp at the sight. One bacteria remains. But how?! Grabbing the bottle I read it, groaning in frustration.
"Lysol, Kills 99.9% of bacteria" Dammit. | I knew it was a bad idea. Of course, it was, you don't fuck with the spirts of your entire realm. They could damn you, torture you forever. But I was done with the war. I had to do something. My father, the lord, only sat on his pile of gold and ate the last of our food. I was not about to sacrifice the animals, my only friends, and where was I to get 100 humans. I had to request the spirts help, so I sacrificed the bacteria.
I lay it in the fire and whispered the words the ancient text called for. In a flash of orange and red, spirits stood before me. They fluttered hungrily about the sacrifice, before realizing it was nothing more than a small dish. The head spirit was upon me in an instant, a splitting voice shrieking, deafening my senses. The spirits circled me, their screams one by one growing louder and louder. Then the wind whipping around me stopped, and the demons had ceased in a circle around my crumpled body. Starting with the lord of the spirits, their mouths unhinged one by one. Soon they all were one fearsome beast, brimming with sharp teeth, dripping firey saliva. That was the last thing I saw. Loopholes get you nowhere. So I recommend, you looking to summon the body of phantoms, do not repeat my mistakes. Follow the text, but not as literally and idiotically as I. That is no way to make a deal with the devils. | 2019-11-02T15:51:48 | 2019-11-02T12:55:33 | 109 | 30 |
[WP] A massive underground cathedral-like temple is discovered. You are one of the people sent to study it. As soon as you enter, the sheer size of everything inside tells you it was never ment for human worshipers.
*meant | ######[](#dropcap)
"It's not for us, see?" Zechariah pushed up his glasses, the glint in his eyes unmistakable. Sheer, unadulterated excitement. He buzzed around the rest of the archeologists like a fly, his enthusiasm propelling him from group to group as he joined in discussions ranging from the large pillar in the center of the room covered in glowing hieroglyphs to the helix on the floor that spiraled out across the vast cavern--all two miles of it.
Iyana frowned. She hadn't wanted him on the team in the first place--he'd come highly recommended by Kamar, and Kamar was known for liking bootlickers more than actual researchers--and now she was stuck. She rubbed at her temples and squeezed her eyes shut.
"Zechariah, join the excavation team." She gestured toward the next room over, where a team had been ordered to look at a massive, glowing stone that spanned almost fifty feet high and ten feet wide. Shaped like an indistinguishable blob, it pulsed a gentle blue. There were strict orders not to touch it. It had already been okayed by the radiation team, but you never knew with this kind of job.
In fact, none of them were touching anything in the room, save the floor. Iyana turned back to the discussion at hand. "Try to confirm the material of the pillar," she murmured to Rishi, then snapped off her gloves. It was a pale white. Almost marble-like in its whiteness but just a little too porous to be polished stone.
A panicked shriek reverberated through the cavern, rending through the empty space like a knife. Iyana froze for just a moment before bursting into a dead run toward the room where it had originated from--the stone room. Inside, a gaggle of archeologists were shouting profusely, clinging onto each other as they stared at the large rock in horror. It was almost impossible to describe the magnificence of the scale of such a thing unless you were standing in front of it. It had an almost eerie quality to it. A magnetic draw.
Iyana blinked. Why had she come in here?
Right. She turned toward the subteam leader, Mallory. "What happened?" she snapped.
Mallory's eyes were wide, wider than she'd ever seen them, with an expression Iyana knew all too well. "He...he touched the stone but it wasn't solid anymore, it was like jello, and then he just got sucked in, and we couldn't stop it, and we have no idea where he is..." Her voice petered out as she became choked up.
"Who?" Iyana's head snapped toward the glowing stone. She stepped closer to try to examine it. But she already knew before Mallory replied. The only person who would disobey direct orders. Zechariah. She could faintly make out a shadow within the stone that wasn't there before--a humanlike form. How it happened, she had no desire to know. It was best to leave some things in the dark.
They should wait for the extraction team. She knew that. That's what they were here for, but they were fifteen minutes away, and if Zechariah really was in there for fifteen minutes, he'd likely be dead.
"Give me the pickaxe," she said, extending her hand. After a moment of complete silence, the familiar wooden handle was laid in her hand. She walked up to the stone. Taking a deep breath, she swung the pickaxe over her head, laying it against the glowing stone.
A small hiss, and a crack.
She did it again.
A larger crack this time.
Over and over again, she struck the same crack, until finally, with a resounding thud, a portion of the stone fell off, a large enough size that a human could crawl through.
"Zechariah," she choked out. Finer than dust, the glowing particles bled through the mask. She adjusted her mask anyway. "Zechariah!"
There was no response from the dark gap in the rock.
Her lips thinned and she turned around. "Mallory, call the--"
A gasp from Mallory startled her. Mallory stared past her head, her eyes wide.
Iyana whipped around. It was Zechariah. The blood drained from her face as she stared at the vaguely humanlike creature in front of her. Puffed and bloated blue, with sores pulsing over its body, it was only recognizable by the glasses still sitting on its face. Only...there wasn't much of a face left. A puckered hole in the center was all that was left, atop which the glasses rested. The creature made a pitiful mewling sound as it wobbled, just barely maintaining itself upright.
Iyana took a step back. Whatever that was, it wasn't Zechariah any longer. And it most definitely wasn't human.
***
I might write a part 2, so comment below if you'd like me to update you!
r/AlannaWu | Seven years ago, NASA sent the probe 'New Horizons III' to Pluto. Now, the far-flung icy dwarf grew large in the
spaceship's window. It had been a long and lonely journey, but for all his grumbling thus far, Ron Meyers secretly relished this lifetime opportunity to be one of the first humans to step foot on the mysterious, as-of-yet unexplored planet.
There was a flurry of activity as they approached. The scientists aboard began muttering among themselves, preparing for deceleration, and informing NASA that their years-long mission was on the verge of success. Throughout it all, Ron sat back in a chair, watching and remembering. The landing would be a momentous occasion, but Ron's task was not complete until the scientists sent their final update to NASA. After all, the United States had invested an obscene amount of time, money, and intellect into this project. The CIA was determined that no Russian or Chinese interference derailed the 'New Horizons III'.
A gasp and the scientists' sudden crowding around the view port drew Ron's attention. With a quiet sigh, he took out his tablet and stylus, adopting his persona of a world-weary journalist. "Ruth, what's happening? I thought our landing was already calculated. What's something wrong?"
Ruth glanced over at him, then beckoned him closer. "Look!" she whispered.
Ron's eyes went wide as he stared out the view port. They were circling the dark side of Pluto, one which never saw the light of the sun. By all accounts, the surface ought to be dark and lifeless, distinguishable from the rest of the void only by how it blocked out the light of the stars. However, that was not the case. Stretching across the dwarf planet was a jagged glowing golden light. It shone brighter than the Sun, its light warm and entirely impossible.
"What is that?" he hissed, countless scenarios running through his mind. The Chinese had gotten here first; when they landed, they would die. The Russians were using this planet as a weapons testing facility. The Europeans were mining gold, and that light was their settlement. Or, worst of all, other intelligent life did exist in the universe, and 'New Horizons III', a purely scientific research vessel, was going to make first contact. "How can that exist?
"We don't know!" Ruth's beaming face showed that she, at least, was not perturbed by this sudden wrinkle in their mission. "Jessica thinks that Pluto might have volcanic activity after all, and Nicholas over there is examining what little data we have on the composition of Pluto's surface, to see if we have reason to believe that is bio-luminescent life instead. Isn't this neat?"
"Sure..." With a slight shake of his head, Ron took a step back. "I'll see you later Ruth, I need to talk to Marie."
"The captain? She's on the bridge, as always," Ruth said with a grin. "See you later!"
With a forced grin, Ron left the gaggle of scientists and hurried to the bridge. "Marie, we need to talk," he said without preamble.
She turned to him, a frown on her face. "You're right, we need to talk about your insubordination. Bursting in here unannounced, demanding an audience with me? You may be a civilian, Ron Meyer, but here in space you are still under my command. Come with me at once, we will discuss your flagrant disregard for the rules." She took him out to the hallway, and after checking there was no one around, hissed, "What is it, Agent Meyer? And next time, stop trying so hard to blow your cover!"
"Sorry," Ron said with a grimace. "But have you seen what's outside?"
"Of course! I'm the *captain* of this ship, what do you expect?" She glared at him, then said, "Don't answer that. The point is, I'm aware of the glowing fissure that has appeared when we're hundreds of thousands of *millions* of miles away from home. We're in trouble, Ron, but I can't spare anyone to figure out what it is, not in the first two weeks! We have a mission, and we have to complete that mission. NASA is relying on us to provide that data. Only after that can the scientists go explore that weird glowing thing to their hearts' content." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I just hope it doesn't kill us first."
Ron looked at the ship, then at her. Then he sighed. "With all due respect, Captain, there is one person on this ship who isn't crucial to gathering data. In fact, he is here to keep this crew safe." He knew she knew what he meant. He could see it in her eyes. "Give me a suit and I'll investigate."
"You know we won't be able to send anyone with you." It wasn't even a question. "You will go alone." She paused. "And you will likely die alone."
"I know. But what else can we do? Don't deny it, this is the best option."
She touched upper arm. "You're a good man, Ron Meyer." Then she strode back into the bridge, and Ron could hear her barking orders as she oversaw their landing. With a slight smile, he retired to his room and popped a sleeping tablet. In less than 12 hours, he would be on the surface, the first man to step foot on Pluto.
And with luck, he would not be the first man to die on Pluto. | 2019-11-16T09:55:46 | 2019-11-16T09:48:19 | 71 | 21 |
[WP] Your cranky history teacher has recently been revealed as immortal. The reason they are angry is because they have to teach according to the texts when they know what really happened. One class he has had enough and begins to answer people's questions about what truly happened in history. | “Okay, no,” said the Professor in a snarky huff.
Charlie seemed a bit taken aback by his Professor’s response to his knowledge on Nikola Tesla.
The Professor picked up his chalk, twirling it around in his fingers. “You say his work was ‘stolen’ by Edison, when that is so very clearly wrong.”
“What do you mean? It’s common knowledge Tesla’s work was basically snuffed by Edison in response to assuring his Electricity Company would be monetized efficiently!”
Throwing Charlie an angry gaze improved upon by his furrowed thick brows, the Professor snickered. “Listen, Mr. Daggs was it?”
“Yes...” Charlie replied, annoyed.
“I can assure you with utmost certainty that Nikola was partly a thief himself.”
The class stood silent. Each student watching the debate between the old man and Charlie intently. “What? How?!” barked Charlie as he shifted in his seat.
Putting his wrinkled hands into his tartan trousers, the Professor sniffles and wiped his nose. “It’s not pretty,” he said with Scottish murmur. “In fact it’s a rather unremarkable story of idea thievery and a rather loud clockwork squirrel.”
“What the hell are you on about?” Charlie took a breath. “Is this another one of your broken metaphors?”
Looking to the clock, the Professor noticed the time. It was a minute to the bell. The Professor waved his hands through the air. “You lot can go early. I need to have a chat with Mr. Daggs.”
The students quickly left their seats, exiting the classroom. Charlie and the Professor looked toward each other. Their gaze seemed full of anger. “Alright,” sputtered the Professor. “In an attempt to prove you oh so very wrong, I’m going to tell you how Nikola Tesla and I got intoxicated and accidentally caused the Tunguska Event.”
“That’s just...ridiculous!” yelped Charlie as he moved from his seat. “The others praise your teachings, but...” he pointed his finger rigidly toward the old man. “You are just a madman!”
Taking a breath, the Professor continued. “So anyways. Tesla and I, great cook by the way, just created a clockwork squirrel. My assistant, forgot *her* name, was too busy to care. So we let it loose, but not before having a jug of the best Russian Wine in that Time Period.”
Charlie tried to stop the Professor. “Stop. Just stop. I see what you’re doing. You are trying to make me a fool.”
Reaching under a nearby desk, the Professor pulled out a wooden squirrel littered with clockwork parts. “This baby,” he tapped its head, “Got us in way too much trouble.”
“What’s that...” stammered Charlie in bewilderment. “That’s not—”
“Oh, it is...” grinned the Professor as he switched it on. The squirrel hopped a few tiny hops before shutting down in a clank. “Nikola Tesla used my designs and it really made me sad. It was a rollercoaster with him! Electric this and free energy that. He was on the right track. It’s what made this little squirrel tick. High energy electromagnetic waves. Basically super Wi-Fi.”
Slamming back down in his seat Charlie looked to his professor in disbelief. “You...you really are immortal like the others say. I thought it was a joke about your age...”
“I’m not ‘immortal’ per say,” chuckled the Professor. “I’m just not human.”
The Professor strode up the steps, brushing his frock coat to the side. “I’m just an old man, been stuck here for a while. Wanted to prove you wrong.”
“Just me?”
“No!” laughed the Professor. “I’m just having some fun with you.”
“Oh...”
“But I am going to have to wipe your memory.”
“What?!”
“Don’t worry! It’s an old Time Lord trick!” chuckled the Professor as he put his fingers to Charlie’s temples. Suddenly Charlie fell asleep, snoring. “Oops,” bit too much. “Ah, he’ll be fine.”
“Doctor?” yelped a voice from behind him.
The Doctor spun around. “Nardole?! What’s wrong?”
“Another one? Really?” said Nardole with arms crossed. | "So...How were the Pyramids made?"
"UGH, so this book says we used ramps and slaves, that's half true. Actually that's like, a quarter true, when the pharoah of the time wanted to be immortalized it asked for a temple, that temple was built distinctly with specific ratios unintentionally that caused all who meditated within it to receive messages from, not kidding, interdimensional aliens that overlook our race like guardians. They taught the pharoah whom they would only communicate with the power of thought. The pharoah asked them for proof of their being and help on energetic healing for his people, so these aliens..."
"Um, wait, energetic healing?"
"Yes, like yoga only you do movements of the mental and emotional faculties of your consciousness. Anyway the aliens, who went by Ra, big surprise I know, made a giant pyramid the next day in the desert. Somehow his followers thought that was, uh, the feces of a bull, and conspired to overthrow the pharoah who had tried to devout his followers to these new outlandish concepts. Then subsequently built two more pyramids next to this big pyramid using ramps and slaves. Like, a lot of slaves. Not so many ramps, but literally thousands of slaves were worked to death pulling out materials, setting them up, carving them, and moving them. Levers were a big help, you don't move thousand pound blocks with ropes alone. Anyway turns out their pyramids messed with the bigger pyramid and sent the entire planet into the dark ages where evil Gods took advantage of the planet's messed up energy field to pitch a new religion, and that's how Judaism came to be. By the look of these textbooks, those guys are still around ruining everything for everyone."
The entire class was silent, but a student in the back rose their hand.
"Yes, Billy?"
"Um, Mr. Noferatu, how'd you become immortal?"
"...In a galaxy far far away, there can be only one. I was that one, and I got exiled for being immortal because it was 'ungodly', so I took my leave and wandered the stars. The Orion Nebula, I imploded a gas giant and made a star to form Orions belt. Polaris, I accidentally enlarged with a nuetron bomb I got from Alpha Centari when I saved an alien race from a colony of space wasps that took refuge on their three moons and when I was looking to know the afterlife and flew into a giant slow rotating black hole I went through the 4th dimension at the first event horizon, got thrown into the 5th dimension, then 5th dimensional aliens who were really just our own selves highly evolved, deposited me in front of Saturn when your species was just leaving your trees and using caves and tools instead. I came here around 6 million years ago, watched your species rape, pillage, torture, and murder each other as a basic learned trait and necessity to the survival of bloodlines, some of which belonged to an collective of souls that identify singularly as Lucifer and Yahweh. Well the Lucifer bloodline tricked the Yahweh bloodline into eating a now extinct fruit that granted the consumer omniscience. The now overwhelmingly intelligent beings were exiled by the guardians of our solar system for being too smart for their own good and ended up being taken to a distant planet to live in perfect unity while the Lucifer bloodline went on to dominate history and control society's time and again until a new collective being named Jehoshua, what we call Jesus, showed up to try and stir up a more positive future. To which they, the Lucifer bloodline ostracized, assimilated, then corrupted the teachings given to further assert control. Did I mention they also started Judaism?"
"I thought that happened after the Pyramids around 10 thousand years ago?"
"Yes, Billy. Time is nonlinearly linear to higher dimensional beings."
The bell rings, the students speak of this to others, news reaches the administration, Mr. Noferatu gets fired and is found dead a week later with a portion of his skull surgically removed, his death was ruled a suicide by authorities prompting the creation of a meme:
"Drake Ula Nosferatu didn't kill himself."
And they were right. Mr. Nosferatu didn't kill himself, he made a genetic braindead clone of himself, strung it up after some brain surgery and left the country, using drug lords to smuggle himself into a new country with a new fake alias to teach as Mr. Ulu, full name Ku Uth Ulu. Where he continued his menial existence as an underpaid overworked History Teacher, where similar events would unfold and he'd reveal the truth about Genghis Khan and the Chamber of Secrets. | 2019-12-25T08:06:01 | 2019-12-25T07:42:56 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] You hear a knock on your door. A dark suited man stands with a box. "Congratulations! You've won a lifetime supply of our new frozen meals!" He opens the box, which contains a single, blue lidded tv dinner. You look around. "Where is the rest?" He grins. "This will last the rest of your life." | You open the lid
"Capsules?"
The man grins even more.
"Yup! We just perfected our dehydrated meal capsules. Pour some water on it and toss it in a microwave or oven, and it will turn into a full meal. They're labeled, too, so it won't be a surprise as to what you get."
You raise your eyebrows. "Wow, that sounds cool. How many are in here?"
"This container has around a half million capsules, so if you eat three of them a day, it should last you the rest of your life. Let us know if you get married or have kids, and we'll send you more, no sweat."
You take the container from the man.
"Thanks, fam." | I felt a chill down my spine. It was obvious that this man was not a salesman. I decided to play dumb and stall for time
"Oh really? Sweet! Does it have some kind of self-refilling technology or something?"
The suited man was dumbfounded. After a little pause, he said "No. I'm implying that this'll be your last meal"
"Why? Do I have some kind of disease that doesn't let me eat frozen meals?"
“No no no. I'm saying that you're going to die before you even finish this meal"
"What if I don't eat it?"
"..."
"I mean it counts as the meal not being finished"
"Enough of this bullshit"
The man pulls a pistol out of his suit. A pistol that could definitely kill me.
In a panic, I throw the frozen food on him. He shoots the packet and the bullet darts towards me but I somehow dodge it. It whizzes beside my ear. The food inside hits his hand and the gun topples to the floor. I hurriedly grab the gun and point it towards him. He makes a run for it. I don't follow.
I look at the food packet on the ground.
There's still some food left in it | 2020-04-07T01:47:33 | 2020-04-07T01:23:03 | 77 | 26 |
[WP] On your deathbed, the Grim Reaper himself comes to pay you a visit. You expect him to collect your soul, until he asks where and how you have hidden it. | I should have seen it coming. It was because of the vaccines my parents subjected me to when I was a child. Or maybe it was the fluoride in the drinking water that did me in. I was lucky I did not turn gay like those frogs I suppose, but dying at the age of 38 was a tragedy nevertheless.
When the grim reaper appeared, I was disappointed by his measly appearance. The robes were tattered, the scythe did not look well maintained, and he walked. . . I don't know, we walked like one of those store clerks you shout at. I tried to stay civil and keep my disapproving gaze to a minimum. Death approached, and I steeled myself best I could.
In a surprisingly normal voice the reaper asked me: "Where did you hide it?" Then I opened my eyes a bit and gave him my first good look. Yeah he looked a bit thin, but he wasn't a skeleton. In fact I was pretty sure I saw him working at Macy's shoe department some time last week. The name badge on his chest identified him as Tim.
I was surprised, but it seemed he was more surprised than me. He seemed at a loss. Looking under the bed, behind the curtains. When he reached for the nightstand drawers I couldn't help myself.
\- Excuse me! Those are private! How dare you mess around in a customer's private property!
\- B - But your soul.
\- No, buts young man! You can't open my drawer! Those are private!
\- Ok, ma'am. Where did you hide your soul? I have a busy schedule today and would like to conclude the reaping as soon as possible.
\- What do you mean where is my soul? Shouldn't you know it? In fact, isn't that your job description!?! Can't a woman die in peace in this country no more!?
\- I am sure it is a simple misunderstanding ma'am. I am sure I can sort it out right quick. If you onl-
\- If I only what?!? You know what \*Tim\*. I don't think you know what you are doing? How long have you worked in this position?!?
\- I started today ma'am.
\- TODAY?!?! And you already lost my soul!!! This is terrible, you know how busy I am. I have an appointment at the pearly gates and won't be able to attend because YOU lost my soul Tim! I DEMAND MY SOUL TO BE GLEANED BY SOMEONE COMPETENT TIM!
\- But, ma'-
\- Don't you ma'am me one more time young man! I DEMAND TO SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER! RIGHT NOW!
At that point Tim's eyes were watering up with tears. I felt in control. Who was this pesky looser to glean \*my\* soul.
The commotion seemed to draw the attention of management and finally a proper grim reaper emerged from the shadows. He put his hands on the apprentice grim reaper's shoulder and said: "Tim, son. I am sorry. You shouldn't have been assigned a Karen on your first day. Karens have no souls and they become the wailing banshees after death. We don't glean them son."
I was still yelling as they turned away and disappeared into the shadows. | The beeping of the machines melded in and out of consciousness, sometimes drowned out by the roaring in my ears, sometimes piercing through the silence bladelike and vicious. Everything else swam in and out of blurred vision. Everything except that slow, baleful beeping.
**beep. beep. beep.**
*"Margery! Don't play in the road! It isn't safe!"*
Faces swam into sight occasionally. A round-faced woman, Germanic and stern, and somehow more comforting because of the sternness, as if she were a captain in these rough seas and I could trust her. She would stare down at me, moving my arms about, poking and prodding and listening carefully.
**beep. beep. beep.**
*"MARGERY!"*
A younger face, brown hair, and brown eyes that stared out from behind squared lenses. I couldn't tell if they blurred because of me of because of her. I hated those eyes, whenever I saw them my entire body screamed in a sickened sort of pain, some kind of existential failure. But whenever they were gone, they were all I thought of and I stayed, treading water, waiting desperately for them to come back so I could feel that pain just one more time.
**beep. beep. beep.**
*::Screech:: ::Thud::*
An even younger face. This one mostly curious. It would look at the brown eyes and receive a nod. Then would speak some words, or tell some story, or show some pictures, while the brown eyes looked down at my crippled form, and then looked away, then back again. I couldn't hear anything except the
**beep. beep.**
*"Oh god! Margery go back to the house! Dave, are you okay?"*
An old face. So old. So pale. It stared down at me with expressionless eyes. It stared around the room. A dark storm in the sea, looming over the little girl in her little ship, staring balefully at the German nurse with a strange familiarity. The white whale staring at Ahab, and Ahab staring back, both knowing how the story ends.
**beep. beep.**
*"I'm calling an ambulance. Don't... Oh god... Dave, don't worry, you're going to be... you're going to be fine."*
*"I didn't even see her! Why was she in the street?... Are those his..."*
"Where is it?" the pale face rasped as he leaned over my ship, the dark clouds threatening to capsize me.
"He's not looking too good today." The nurse said as she leaned over the other side, blue flecked eyes examining a needle before inserting it into a sac dangling above me.
**beep. beep.**
"Where's what?" I asked death, my lips fluttering softly, soundlessly as I squinted with all my effort into the corner hunting desperately for her, hunting desperately for those eyes.
**beep.**
"Your soul. Where has it gone?" death asked, eyes roving all about the room.
The hazel eyes stared back at me, comforting and heartwrending at once.
**beep.**
Suddenly, a slight breeze in the seas, a little ray of light as Margery, my little Margery, walked in. Confused in her infancy, holding some roughly picked flowers in grubby hands, staring up at my hospital bed in confusion and slight discomfort as beams of sunlight slowly drifted off her like some strange fire.
**beep.**
"I'm afraid I've lost it somewhere," I chuckle softly before coughing weakly, eyes unable to focus anymore, the roaring filling my ears again before going silent.
"Ah," said death, turning to regard my daughter, "I see."
**beeeeeeee--** | 2020-04-23T03:47:35 | 2020-04-22T23:16:32 | 48 | 28 |
[WP] The world is inhabited by Mortals, Immortals (who cannot die of old age) and The Undying (who are unable to die at all). You have always believed to be mortal, until today... In a horrific construction accident, you are decapitated by a shard of glass... but you wake up in a bed hours later. | Car engines, screeching metal and people talking. The sounds were dull. I didn't understand what people say. The car engines were also sound far away. My vision wasn't the clearest either. I couldn't recognize the faces on the people. I couldn't even remember their names. But they knew me. They looked at me. They pointed at me. They talked to me. Some even screamed. Damn, I wish I could understand what they said. And then everything spun. The last image I remember was my stiff, decapitated body.
I stare at the hospital lamps, trying to get my eyes adjusted. That was indeed a very weird dream. My hand reach to my neck automatically. I feel the scar that decapitated me. My heart races. "Wait, Did I just really...?"
"Yes, you indeed died. Well, not really."
Next to me, there's a doctor. His face is young, but his eyes could tell eons of stories. That's no wonder. Most immortals become doctors to help the mortals. It's common among the immortal families to enter these kind of career fields. The doctor next to me has a clipboard. His eyes are speeding through it like they're trying to find an answer for a question I still have to ask.
"What happened?" I ask with a sore throat. It's a unpleasant feeling I never felt before.
"You got hit by glass and it decapitated you." The doctor answers dryly. "Seems like they didn't test you."
He means my birth certificate. When someone is born, they're tested to see if they're mortal or immortal. In some cases, undying are also born, but it's rare. Most undying are taken away from their parents to become test subjects. They get no rights or choice at all. This society has made sure of that.
"How you mean? Didn't test?" I say, trying to sit up straight. My back really hurts. Like I've been stabbed. The doctors eyes jump from the clipboard to me. His look still old and mysterious. "Here says you mortal. But you survived a decapitation. Explain that to me, eh."
My breath catches in my throat. Words don't come. I can't speak. I'm an undying? How? How could this happen? Shit, I can't be. It has to be a mistake. The doctor stares at me for a short while and then leaves. Finally, I can speak. "What's going to happen to me?"
He turns back before leaving the room. "The same as the others. They'll be here in a while." Then he leaves. I'm alone, waiting for impending doom. I gotta get out of here. If I don't go, I'll never get to see sunlight again.
I step out of my soft bed, feet planted on the cold hospital floor. The adrenaline makes sure I'm not having trouble standing. God knows how long I slept. I have to move. I make my way to the door and inspect if anyone is present. The hallway is mostly empty. No visitors, nor nurses. I tiptoe through the hall, looking around to find a way out. I've never been in this hospital before. I open a door with the emblem of some stairs.
"This should be a good way."
The grey staircase spiral up and down. It's a hunch, but I've more chance to escape if I go downstairs. Unfortunately, I don't even make it to the step. the door behind me opens."
"Mr. Vinnin, Do not resist containment." A think-packed soldier orders with the doctor alongside them. I start to run down the stairs. But, of course, I'm stupid. I feel a sting in my neck and my body becomes limp. A dart falls to the ground next to me.
Shit they got me. I try to crawl further, but it's hopeless. my body won't move an inch. Footsteps, reducing in distance. Future pain and misery, crawling closer. Vision, getting more and more blurry. The inevitable screams of doomed souls, coming closer. It's no use to struggle.
I lost. | "Morning!" "Morning, Leo!" "How is it going?"
Really, how can it go? Everyday, I come here. Everyday, I go up the stairs. Everyday, I work my fingers to the bone. And what for? Enough money for a loaf of bread, some rice and barely enough water for the day.
"Hey, kid! What are you doing over there? These are not moving on their one!"
They sure could, but then I'd lose my job.
"Sorry, I'm coming!"
Breathe. I won't do you any good to answer back.
"What's gotten into you, kid? Are you bored of this? You haven't even worked here for long..."
"I've been working here for almost 40 years already," I reply. Kid, kid. I know I look young, it's my genetics, but I'm too damn old to keep being called a kid! If only I had been born one of them.
This world is dominated by humanity, but even for humans, things are not equal. They were never before, though, according to history. However, once they started appearing, the inequality only grew bigger.
Immortals were the first we noticed. You know, when grandma started going a bit older than a hundred, then two hundred, then three hundred... It's not so hard to tell. It seems that scientist were impressed by the facts, but they identified the genes that cause it soon after. However, they have not find a way to replicate the mutation on Mortal babies, so we just have to live with it. Ha.
The Undying got noticed later, but faster. I mean, a man waking up in the morgue is a thing, but ripped pieces of flesh coming back together, missing limbs reforming on their own, and a whole family on a car accident waking up soon after was worth an investigation. There's still mystery around the nature of The Undying, but the one thing that's known is that it's basically genetic. And rare.
It was no surprise that The Undying became the top of society, with Immortals coming soon after. Then there's us, the Mortals. We Mortals don't have the same education, we don't have the same healthcare system, we don't have the same rights. Because, what's the matter? We'll just be here for a hundred years at most. We're ephemeral. As flowers. As rivers. The same as animals.
You won't see Mortals going to college, since it's a waste of resources to be accepted in a public one, and you'd need at least two hundred years to be able to pay a private one. You won't see many Mortals' hospitals, because it's a waste. We are a waste. They'll only keep us around as long as we're useful, and then...
This was the kind of fucked up world I was born into.
If only I could do something about this! If only I could change
"Leo! What on Earth are you doing?! Have you gone blind already!!!?"
I look down to realize my fuck up. I try to apologize, to explain I didn't mean to do it. I hear him telling other people to get me out. They start grabbing me. I hold on to things. I beg. I shout. I cry.
"Good bye, Leo." That's all he says. After 40 years of working. After everything I've done for this place. As I try to get in once more, I slip.
How laughable! Forty years. Forty years of my life! To end here. Like this! I won't even get other 40. I close my eyes, and brace myself. I'm getting light headed. I fall.
How funny, there's someone who looks just like me lying a few feet apart.
I open my eyes. Did I die? Am I still conscious? Seems like a hospital room, is this really the afterlife?
"Mr. Jones, I'm glad to see you're awake," said some woman dressed like a nurse, getting inside the room. Is this some kind of hidden wish I had?
"It seems that your test results were wrong all of this time. You'll start at a public high school if you wish to and might get a career or two staring in another ten years. But don't worry, they'll go by in the blink of an eye," she says, winking at me.
This. This is what I've been waiting for.
----------------------
This was... longer than I expected, lol. Please correct me, since I'm new here and English is not my first language. I wonder if I can comment here already? | 2020-05-04T11:57:44 | 2020-05-04T11:45:57 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] You are a human on a spaceship crewed by aliens. As your hair dye begins to fade, your crewmates start to worry about your health. | Jed chuckled to himself as he stared in the mirror. His skin was covered in brownish-green soot from working in the ship's engine all day. The gray was starting to seep through again.
'Maybe this time I'll just let it show. I can't keep doing this.'
Zemoruans, Delgarmals, and Waftergronner lived for upwards of five hundred years apiece, making them much more suited for these long-distance missions to deep space. Humans? They got left behind, where they were thought to belong. Tinkerers, yes; entertainers, for sure. But the harder, more thoughtful stuff? The species blessed with longevity were tasked with that. There were some things, far off in that unconquered galaxy, that humans would never see-were never meant to see.
But Jed wanted to see, ever since he was a boy staring up at the sky, seeing the lights shining from the engines as the ships soared through the night, piercing the darkness like so many knives; always reminding him, the light is there, no matter how dark is gets.
He sighed. 'I suppose we'll find out how true that is.'
Truth be told, he knew he'd never step foot on another planet. Maybe whatever gods were out there really were bastards after all, and there really were things plainly out of reach. Just beyond the grasp of those who would dare to reach for it.
Sure, he'd had Telomerase Therapy, and plenty of it. Turns out sub-lightspeed and twin-spiral DNA don't get along too well no matter how much you try to stack the deck. The Zemoruan triple-spiral was much more resilient to such complications resulting from biological limitations.
It didn't matter. None of it did. The gray in his hair was proof enough of that.
He sighed as the lining of his room started to glow.
"Hey, Kodax."
"Hello, Jedarom Faltha'in. You are looking your age today."
"And how old am I?"
"Two hundred and twenty, sir."
Jed nodded. "I think I could go for another fifty."
"I think you could, too. But do you want to go for another fifty?"
Jed's lip trembled. "Will we reach Alstari by then?"
The ship's captain, the Super-AI Kodax, ran a few simulations; the light lining Jed's room flickered in and out.
The ship's captain replied, "No. Alstari is another seventy-five years from us in the most favorable cases."
Jed nodded. His eyes fell to the ground. All for nothing. He'd never married, never had kids. He'd leave nothing behind. Maybe he'd live on as a story told by those who were meant to know the secrets of the universe.
"Would you like me to notify the others? They are quite fond of you-"
"No. It's business as usual."
"Are you going to re-dye it? They already are asking about your health."
"No, I don't think there's any hiding it. I'm...aging. Getting older by the second."
"We could try another round of Telomerase Therapy. Undo the damage done."
"You know as well as I do that it'll just reverse even faster."
The program was silent.
Jed walked over to a console in his room and pressed a button, opening the window and allowing the light from a nearby star to envelop the room. Jed walked toward the window, taking in several beautiful planets as they bathed in the light, clinging to their star as they hurdled around it.
"Ah," Kodax said. "That's the Ritona System, orbiting Telthanus. A beautiful sight, indeed. The descriptions are enough to make me wish I could look at that the same way you can."
Jed smiled. Everyone else on the ship was asleep (the triple-spirals especially needed sleep, often being out for days) while he was fretting over his worsening health. But here was something beautiful in the universe, something just for him. Just for his mother and father, whose dreams he had carried this far.
He smiled, wondering how much longer he had. Days? Weeks? Months? He felt older all the time.
It didn't matter. He was the first human to see these things in the distance, but he wouldn't be the last. | "Hey Tic, how are you today?" I greet the little Allic as he walks by.
"Y-Yes. Greetings Human Cammie! I am doing fine thank you!" He says quickly before scurrying off.
Strange. I know Allics are very nervous and easily scared of taller species, but I was sure Tic had warmed up to me by now. So why did it feel like he was running away from me? I should ask Surt, despite being a Tex he was Tic's best friend. I considered him a great friend friend as well. Surt was a gentle giant and the first member of the crew to treat me as an equal.
I found Surt sitting down at one of the tables in the mess hall, seemingly enjoying a plate of the slop the cooks call food. I came up behind him and latched unto his soft fur. "Hi Surt!"
However instead of the warm welcome he normally gives me. His baby blue fur took a deep navy blue tone.
"Hi Cammie. Nicetoseeyahgottagonowbye!" he spoke so fast i was barely able to make out what he said. He got up and he quickly disappeared. Even leaving his plate of half eaten food on the table.
Ok, now I'm starting to worry. Tic running away from me is one thing. He's 3 feet tall and get scared easily, it took a month before he started talking to me. But Surt was a different story, not only is he 7 feet tall and strong enough to break me like a twig, but he was the first one to really welcome me to the crew. Why would HE run away from me? Did I do something to offend them somehow? I really hope I didn't. I needed to speak to Captain Civ. If anyone can help me out it's her.
As I make my way to the bridge I notice that everyone on the crew has been staring at me in a strange manner. When I reach the bridge I see the doorway is locked. Strange, Captain Civ never closes the door to the bridge.
I press a button on the door's control panel and a video call opens.
"Oh Cammie, I was just about to call you over. Give me a few parsecs and I'll open the door"
A moment later the door opens and as I step inside I notice what looks like a giant glass panel separating me and the Captain.
"Good day ma'am. I am in need of some assistance, but before that, why is there a giant panel in the middle of the bridge?"
"It's nothing to concern yourself with. Now then what is it you needed?"
"Yes Captain I'm really confused, everyone is avoiding me? Did I do something to offend the crew? Even Surt ran away from me!" At this point I'm on the brink of tears. I might be the only human here but I've made quite a few good friends on this ship, I consider even the crew to be like family, a big weird alien family, but family nonetheless. Being avoided by everyone Is so frustrating and it's starting to get to me.
"Well Cammie, before I can answer that I am required to ask, are you feeling healthy?"
I wipe a few tears away from my eyes "yes, I feel fine. What does my health have to do with any of this?"
"Are you certain that your health has not deteriorated?"
"Yes, I'm perfectly fine. What would make you think that I'm not healthy?"
"You fur. When you joined our crew it was a vibrant crimson. Now it looks like a dull yellow."
I look at my reflection off of the glass panel in front of me. Sure enough my hair dye has seriously faded, my hair has all but returned to it's naturally dirty blonde color.
"My hair has nothing to do with my health. Us humans like to add color to our hair to make it stand out. I just ran out of hair dye and the color has faded. Did everyone think I was sick because of my hair color?"
"Well certainly. Poor Surt was terrified. You see, a Tex's fur color changes depending on their overall health and mood. A happy health Tex, like Surt, with have bright vibrant hair, should their mood worsen their fur becomes darker, and if their health takes a toll, the color will become dull fading to gray. Surt thought you had caught a deadly disease. Everyone was sure that it was the same for humans"
"Thank you for explaining. But that certainly isn't human hair workd. Our hair only changes color when we become older, becoming gray one strand at a time, or when we choose to change the color ourselves."
"Well I'm glad you're still healthy. I'll make sure to explain it to the crew"
"Thank you Captain" | 2020-07-05T19:20:58 | 2020-07-05T17:37:29 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Your boss calls you into his office, nothing out of the ordinary, except for one thing: his mouth is twice it's normal size. "Sit down", he orders, picking an apple from his desk and eating it all in one bite, leaving the core. "Do you feel fear?" He asks, nonchalantly. You begin to sweat. | &#x200B;
I could feel the sweat on my brow. The gnawing emotions eating at my core. His eyes were focused, displaying a blend of pride and malice. But I couldn't focus on that. I couldn't barely focus on anything. Nothing but a single burning question:
"H O W D I D Y O U D O T H A T ?!" I yelled.
He smiled, "I made a deal with the men who deal in faces. The price was terrible yet..."
"No!, I mean tell me **how**! I want to do that too!"
'Wait? What?' He stammered. Taking a few seconds to compose himself. "I assure you that the trade was..."
"Who Cares!? That's so cool Think of the utility!"
'Are you serious?'
"T O T A L L Y ! Imagine fitting huge foods in your mouth! Subs, Burritos. The possibilities are endless!
'Yes but that's not really the point of....'
"Entire Burritos. Entire Sandwiches. The possibilities are *endless*."
'But you only mentioned two.'
"**ENDLESS!**"
'I don't think you're understanding the gravity of the pact that I...'
"And the mouth control! With that amount of power I could be a better lover to any man, woman, plant, or house pet. The possibilities are endless!"
He stood up from his chair. Sweat dripping from his brow.
"Okay...I think we're done here."
"Wait, but why?' I asked.
"Because I feel fear." | "Do you feel fear?" he asked. I felt my palms getting sweaty as my brain scrambled for the words to answer his question.
He grinned at he watched me squirm, the corners of his mouth stretching far beyond his regular smile, all the way to his ears. I stared at the sharp, fang-like teeth he revealed.
"Yes, sir. I feel fear." I answered.
"Good." he said. "That'll be useful for you in the days to come."
He paused for a moment, and then let his eyes wander down to my clenched, shaking hands.
"However, it'll do no good for you to let your fear show through. Even the slightest scent of fear can be smelled from a mile away."
I forced my hands to stop shaking. He had already looked away, and was now examining his long, pointed nails.
"Otherwise..." he trailed off, then gave another smirk. "Well, let's just say that wouldn't be pretty for either of you."
I hitched a breath. "What do you mean, either of you?" I asked, unsure if I wanted to know the answer.
His eyes flicked up to meet mine. They were a striking deep purple, and for a moment as I stared at them, I seemed to lose track of time.
I fell to my knees. It felt like the room was closing in, and I gasped for breaths of air as my throat became tight. Sweat dripped off my face as I became suddenly aware of how hot and suffocating the office room was. I started to feel light-headed, and the lights in the room swirled as I collapsed onto the floor.
I saw him crawl over me, his arms and legs bony and elongated. He unhinged his jaw to open his mouth fully, and finally I was able to see just how deformed his body had become. His mouth enveloped me whole, with its putrid warmth and wetness.
*I told you to hide your fear. Why didn't you listen?* | 2020-08-12T01:03:05 | 2020-08-11T23:13:45 | 73 | 17 |
[WP] All the soldiers from World War one meet at the gates of hell. They set aside their differences and decide to storm the gates. | Each of the young men had been sent to hell for their actions in war. They’d fought each other, they’d killed each other, they’d followed the orders of their Commanding officers. Those same Commanders who had never set foot in a trench. Never had to live in the stink and the mud. Never had to watch as the dead were nibbled on by the rats. Never had to wait for the whistle that meant they had to leave their only protection and head over the top into no man’s land.
And for their bravery in fighting for their country in the War to end all Wars the young men had been relegated to Hell. They’d been tried in purgatory and each found to have blood on their hands and sent to suffer for eternity.
Their commanders who had given the orders that led to millions of deaths had also been tried in purgatory and as there was no blood directly on their hands they’d been sent in the other direction. They got to spend the rest of their deaths in Heaven.
“We were boys when they sent us to war. We were children sent to the slaughter. They used us as machine gun fodder, they tested gases on us. They made us murder each other, and then we got sent to Hell for it.” He looked out at the sea of faces looking back at him, all of them exactly the same as the day they died, no wrinkles, no grey hairs as they’d all been so young.
“I’d never left Cornwall before they recruited me and sent me to war. They sent me to defend my Country, they sent me to die without a second thought and they condemned me to Hell.” He took in the uniforms of the Men standing before him, each destined to spend eternity in the clothes they’d died in. It was a mixture of English and German, enemies in life united by a single cause in death.
“We did not grow old as we should have, my wife and children grew old without me. At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember those that made us do this to each other, and we will find them. CHARGEEEEEEE” He ran for the Gates of Hell, hearing the footsteps of the hundreds of thousands of men who ran alongside him. | The sky darkens and the metallic smell of blood fills the air as 20 million battered, limbless soldiers who lost their lives in World Warmsk I run blistering towards God with remarkable speed.
He clasps his hands together in a commanding manner and thunder and lightening shoot straight out from his fingertips directly at the soldiers knocking every single one of them off their feet. God's voice booms through the sky as he commands his audience. **My disgruntled children, do not dare take a single step forward.** The soldiers looked up at him in astonishment. God has never shown himself to those trapped in Hell for their sins, but the soldiers were considered a level 1 threat to the prosperity of Heaven and his beloved Earth and he couldn't risk sending one of his angels to dismantle a threat that large.
Many of the WWI soldiers were pious followers of God during their lives on Earth and were disappointed to find that once they were killed in the war, they woke up to the hellish punishment of God's demons even though they considered themselves to have been following the will of God. After 100 years in Hell, the troops rallied to storm the gates of Hell in order for their souls to be released and for them to finally have peace. Each of the main leaders from both the Central Power and the Allies drafted and signed the Treaty of Hell and worked to plan a way out of Hell together.
**As soldiers from WWI who have created mass destruction, you are aware that you have been condemned to live out your punishments in Hell for the rest of eternity. If you dare challenge me and attempt to break out of the gates of Hell, be prepared for all those you loved and left behind on Earth and their lineages to suffer for your refusal to comply.**
The soldiers looked at one another nervously and finally Wilhelm II of Germany spoke up. "I would like to see you try. I lived the life of an unmarried, friendless man and produced no heir to the throne. As for everyone else, it does not matter what you do to them, their families have been long dead and there would be no one that they care about left alive for you to manipulate on Earth."
The other soldiers stood strong with Wilhelm II.
**Very well then. You will all be reincarnated and forced to live out your lives in a Second World War. Wilhelm, you will become the most vilified man in history and you will be forced to play out his life and hate yourself. Your new name will be Adolf Hitler. All those who currently stand with you will be part of your army and you will all be driven to do terrible things without realizing what you are doing.**
The men tremble and within seconds are transported back on Earth as adults in a dazed and controlled state. | 2020-09-05T03:51:27 | 2020-09-05T00:33:50 | 102 | 45 |
[WP] People often attribute your success as a superhero to your power. However the truth is the power itself sucks, you just learnt how to use it well despite its limitations over the years, as one power stealing villain painfully learnt | I watched my opponent carefully. There were lines around him, possible moves, all converging into one. Right on time, I ducked, jumped forward and turned, landing at his side. I punched him, then stepped backwards to avoid his kick.
My opponent grunted and twisted, preparing to use his power. When I saw that, I moved just *a little* too slow, allowing him to hit me.
He looked faintly surprised. Then he began to move randomly. They always did. Everyone knew that would throw the power off. What they failed to realize was that there is a art to moving randomly. Although with chess, a beginner *can* sometimes win from a more experienced player that way, that doesn’t mean that moving randomly is a guaranteed win. This one was so focused on not patterning that it allowed me to grab and throw him easily, and on the ground, he was done for in minutes, if not seconds. | Ugh, well it’s been a while since I’ve talked about this, but having the “superpower” of acid spit gets incredibly crappy after awhile. You’d think fending off bad guys would be an easy task, but nope, here I am in public running up to the bastard who just stole a ladies purse trying to get into the best possible position for me to hit him with my acidic spit. Also, take into account that despite being acidic, my spit still has the consistency of normal human spit, talk about half measures. DONT even get me started on eating, I cannot give my tastebuds any time to acknowledge whats being put upon them, instead I have to chew my food as fast as possible before the acidic spit turns it into a smoothie.
Of course, there’s always perks to having acidic spit but it’s very very limited. Can I break through most metals with it? Yes. Can I melt an entire human face to its skeleton with it? Yes. Can I kiss my own wife and kids? Absolutely not. People romanticize having any superpower, but believe me, acid spit is 3 shades away from useless. Anyways, that’s all I’ve got for now, it’s not often I get to talk about my essentially futile superpower, my success basically came entirely from my common sense. I guess you could consider that one a superpower since so many people lack it. | 2020-12-02T07:12:59 | 2020-12-02T07:06:24 | 62 | 38 |
[WP] Before academy enrollment each parent must purchase a familiar to protect their child. The rich can afford gryphons and dragons. But being poor forced you to seek out the local mad magician who has offered you a new affordable familiar dubbed the “pet rock” instead. | A small onyx dragon rested on Jason’s shoulder.
“Hey Ellana,” Jason said to me. “Check out Grivacre’s new trick!”
The dragon opened its mouth and beam a small flame no bigger than a struck match. I decided to humor him.
“Impressive! That’ll come in handy in the winter trimester when we need to reheat our hot coco,” I said. “You can charge the other students a copper or two for that. You know the rich ones would take up that offer.”
“My thoughts exactly!”
We bantered for a while about our summer vacation and compared our schedules. They were nearly identical since we were both freshmen.
“Taking Study Hall instead of Creature Taming?” he asked.
I nodded my head and avoided eye contact. Yeah my beast kind of has that down already.
“Really? What kind did you get,” Jason said and leaned forward. “A hippogriff? Unicorn? Phoenix?”
*He’s going to find out someday. Better now than never,* I thought to myself. I swallowed my pride.
“I got a rock.”
Jason tilted his head. “You mean a golem.”
“No, it’s just a rock. I wanted a golem but my family couldn’t afford it.”
That was a half truth. My family could front the initial cost of a mythical creature but not its financial upkeep. I would have to get a job to do that, and I felt like my class schedule completely booked my calendar.
“Want to see it?” I asked and reached into my pocket and pulled out a smooth maroon stone. I placed it into my friends palm.
He looked down at it, then back to me, then back down to the rock. He studied it as if it was long division problem.
An uncomfortable silence fell between us.
“I call him Mountain,” I said. Although, I was certain he reached his max size.
A small puddle of warm liquid formed beneath the rock. Urine seeped between Jasons fingers.
“What the actual fu—” he mumbled.
My face flushed. I apologized to my friend and scrambled for a spare handkerchief in my purse. I exchanged it for Mountain so Jason could wipe his hand dry.
“Oh my god I'm so embarrassed. He gets excited when he meets new people.” I said.
Jason still searched for a response other than dumbfoundment. Grivacre looked confused as well.
“Bad Mountain!” I scolded my pet rock. “Bad Mountain!” | Every student at St. Clair's Academy for the Magically Gifted is required to have some creature to serve as personal protection in the school. Most have traditional animals, but the only one I can afford is the "pet rock" the old wizard in the pawn shop offered me for 5 bits yesterday.
I can't help but to feel bad for the old man. His hair, graying and limp, hung long around his neck. His beard had crumbs of whatever he last ate still suspended in the strands, and his hands shake as he drops the small, brown rock into my hands. He passes me a thin cord of leather he calls a "leash" and I affix the rock in the center and tie the leash around my neck. He winks at me and I thank him for his kindness, and leave the run-down store before he can say anything else.
School starts. While tuition is free, the uniform is not and my parents have used up our savings for the expensive cloth. This is the only magic school in our nation, and though my parents are unable to use magic, I am attuned and they want what's best for me.
At the train station, I glance around at the other students. A few of them have small, lizard-like dragon familiars, a couple with eagles, owls, cats. Some have toads and turtles, and one has a dog. They dance and play around with their familiars. I look down at my rock. It doesn't move.
I can't help but feel self-conscious. I'm the only one at the station without a cage on my trolley. I cart around my one small suitcase, and I feel silly even having the trolley. I can easily carry my bag without the wheels, but I feel like I'd stick out more without it.
I sigh, hugging my parents goodbye.
On the train, I find an empty compartment and push my luggage under the seat. I kick my legs as I glance out at my parent's retreating forms on the platform. I don't know how long I stare out the window for, but as the train starts to move, I'm jolted out of my thoughts when a girl about my age runs into the compartment. She huffs and puffs as she catches her breath in the seat across from me.
I stare at her, and after peaking out of the compartment, she stares back with a large, warm grin. "Sorry to barge in to your room here, but I had to get away from some 4th year and your compartment looked empty."
She smiles sheepishly at me, and I can feel my lips splitting as I smile back. "I like your necklace," she says, and the brown rock around my neck hums & warms as if it is sitting in the sun.
"Thanks," I duck my head, basking in the warm feeling spreading from the stone. "My name's Amy." | 2021-01-06T08:30:38 | 2021-01-06T06:59:52 | 439 | 161 |
[WP] You are better than the Hero in every way. You're smarter, stronger, better trained, better reflexes, better looking. The only problem is the Hero is trained to use a sword while you favor the spear, and every single plot relevant magic weapon is a sword. | It was another quest in vain. The sword in my hand hummed with magic, but it was useless like all the others I had collected through my travels. Meanwhile, Aladic, with his one sword, was the general of the country's army and the soon to be husband of the princess.
There was a time when I pitied the man. With a name like Aladic, one either pitied him or made fun of him. But he trained with a sword, and when he found a magical one, he was able to defeat invaders and save the country.
Then he was able to conquer the very country that had once been a risk to ours. He became the hero that bards sang about and women dreamed of.
If he had worked for his merit, if he gave his fame and honor the value it deserved, I wouldn't begrudge him. But he doesn't. He flaunted it and used it as a shield.
He was only a mediocre man good with a sword. It is the knowledge that I was better that bit away at me.
I swung the sword at the nearest stone. The blade broke in two, but I could still feel the magic in the broken half in my hand.
*It's not the form that matters, it is the magic.*
The blacksmith in town was surprised to see the broken sword. He could not feel it's magic, and only saw an old sword in pieces.
"I can make you a new spear," he said. "With the finest steel and mahogany."
"The finest mahogany will do, but the spearhead must be made from this sword," I told him
He shrugged and started to smelt the broken sword. When he was done, he came out with a spear in each hand.
"You can pay for two, can't you?" he asked.
I took the spears into hand and poised to throw them. The magic was there, even more alive then before. So this was what made Aladic so special.
There was a pile of swords I stored at home. Each sword I had was one Aladic didn't, and I had spent years hoping that his magical sword would break and he would fall spectacularly back into mediocrity.
"I can pay for many," I said.
............................
r/xeuthis | The light of the cave's entrance was far behind her now. Ida had only the faint blue light of the flora down here to see by, but she kept a careful pace, using the pommel of her spear to feel the ground ahead of her in case there were any crevices hidden in the shadows. Her ward was only a few steps behind. Their footsteps echoed with the wooden tapping of Ida's spear and the sounds of dripping water.
Ida knew she didn't need to be so cautious. Her ward, Glen, certainly wasn't. But for Glen, that came from a distinct lack of experience and training. No, she couldn't even conceive of the myriad ways she could accidentally kill herself exploring a random cave for the first time. But Ida knew this wasn't some random cave. Shrines such as this were hidden in remote locations that were difficult to stumble upon by accident, yet were readily accessible to those who knew where to look. For ancient relics to be protected by hazards and booby traps was the work of children's fairy tales.
"Whoa..." Glen said in amazement. Ida looked up, and saw that the roof of the cave had swelled upwards. Massive pointed stalactites hung down, framing a large stone platform that was unnaturally flat at its top. The faint bioluminescence wasn't much to see by, but Ida thought she could make out a sword hilt atop it.
Glen hurried up to the base of the platform, and Ida reluctantly followed. The platform was too high for someone to reach unassisted; Ida had to boost her. It was only a moment until she heard the scraping of metal on stone, and the whole chamber was bathed in a light as bright as the sun, then the light faded almost as quickly.
"Do they all have to do that?" Glen asked. She lowered herself from the lip of the platform until she was hanging by both hands, then dropped the rest of the way. "I closed my eyes, but I'm still seeing stars."
Ida chuckled. "Imagine traveling miles and miles through uninhabited rocky terrain for a remote cave, and deep within that cave you find an ordinary iron sword."
And this was about as remote as it got. Glen made towards the exit and Ida followed, but she couldn't help but eye the sword sheathed at her hip. Ida could just take the sword for herself. After all, didn't she do all the planning and most of the work? Why should some untrained peasant girl take all the credit? She knew she should feel disgusted with herself, but she didn't. It wasn't her moral convictions holding her back. She was just too much of a coward to do it. | 2021-02-28T12:32:47 | 2021-02-28T12:29:29 | 206 | 31 |
[WP] A small unassuming tavern is run by a retired superhero. The janitor used to be the biggest mob boss in the world. The chef is a monster hunter. The waiter is the head of a massive cult. They don't know each other's identities. When the tavern is in trouble, all four thought: "I got this." | The demons burst through the front door of the tavern. Four of them snarling menacingly, talons as long as knives and teeth dripping black ichor. Their black skin was stretched over bodies of muscle and bone. Behind them a dark hooded woman stood, cackling quietly to herself.
"Mortals!" She shouted, raising a dark nailed hand draped in silver bangles. "Cower before me, for I am..."
"Making a big damn mistake," A voice said followed by the loud click of a heavy revolver being cocked. The tavern's janitor a older man with salt and pepper hair held a massive sidearm pointing it toward the demons. "I'm Alessandro Marcone, the most feared Mafia Don in..."
"Ach, yer a fool," The pudgy chef said as she stepped from the back. The once powerful woman's frame still held hidden power and in her right hand was clutched a knife that glowed with crimson light. "I am Brigid Breathnach, and I've slain more demons than you have men Al... Now stand back and let me and my trusty..."
"And destroy half the tavern in the fight?" The head waiter scoffed. "I think not. Stand back and let Damien Crawley, High Pontiff of the Ebon Circle bind these foul..."
"Have no fear my allies!" Interrupted the barkeep and owner as he pulled off his smock. Beneath it was the white and gold of a hero of legend Aperion, strongest hero that the world had ever known. "I shall vanquish these foul beasts in the name of truth, justice, and..."
"Oh for fuck's sake," An old tired voice said and everyone stared in shock at the old hound dog laying by the fire. It spoke again. "You woke the damned cat..."
"ENOUGH!" A voice ancient and terrible spoke, shaking the tavern from ceiling to foundation. The calico stretched lazily as it stood from the stool it had been curled on. "NOT AGAIN."
There was a sigh that was unfathomably tired, and slightly annoyed. Then a burst of golden light engulfed the intruders. When it faded there were five black mice crouching where they once stood.
"FORGET." The cat commanded as she pounced pinning two of the mice under her paws.
"Awwww... Mrs. Fluffybottom caught a wee mousey!" Brigit said with a wide grin. "Extra tuna for her tonight!"
"Why is a few mice the most interesting thing that ever happens here?" Said Al as he leaned on his broom.
The old hound by the fire just huffed and rolled his eyes. | Rob leaned, elbows on the counter, fingers massaging his temple.
"So," he started, lifting his gaze to glare at the woman across from him on the stool, "You, a person I trusted enough to hire as my chef, whose judgement I put *faith* in, manipulated me in to hiring not only the head of the gang I spent several years dismantling as a *waiter*, but the leader of the cult that eventually pushed me into retirement as a *housekeeper?"*
Karis spared a glance behind her at where Larian was mopping up what was left of the thieves before turning back to Rob with a nervous grin. It was a good thing Tony was still at the station with the police, or he'd probably find some way to rile Rob up again. Given that Rob was understandably at the end of his rope, the results would not be very funny. This time, at least.
"Hey, all you asked was if they could pull their weight, right?" she said with a shrug and a laugh. Rob maintained his silent, smoldering glare. Her shoulders drooped as she continued. "Look, I *know* you have history with them, but they're good... well, not fundamentally *bad* people. And besides, the circumstances that put you all in conflict are past, right Larry?"
He turned from his work and fixed them both with a gaze that seemed to pierce their soul. "My Gilded name is Larian, but yes. We have achieved our goal, and guided our flock to Enlightenment. They are dispersed now, doing their Good Works as atonement for the Sins they had wrought on our Path. We are *Clean Smooth Gold* now, within and without."
"Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't guess sooner." She said, turning back and meeting Rob's steely gaze with defiance. "It's not like they aren't good at their jobs. The customers *love* Tony, he's a people person, his charisma's the reason he got as high as he did. And Larry's, well... Clean. He cleans." After a pause, she seemed to wither, and continued with a pleading look on her face. "I've known Anthony and Larian for a while now. Only a little less than I've known you. They mean a lot to me, and they needed safety and peace, respectively. I knew you could provide both, and I knew I couldn't just let'em twist in the wind, but I *didn't* know if you'd help them if you knew who they used to be so... I..." she diverted her gaze, falling silent.
Rob's eyes softened and he leaned back, sweeping a hand through his thinning grey hair. He knew Karis could be rash when it came to action, but when it came to people the young hunter was usually on point. And he had to admit, the last year the tavern had been especially successful. He mulled it over for another minute, letting her stew in guilt.
"Fine," he said, "they can stay." | 2021-05-19T17:03:25 | 2021-05-19T16:52:57 | 28 | 13 |
[WP] Last names are assigned at birth by an oracle, and 90% of people find themselves in a related profession. For instance "Miller" or "Baker." Your last name, "World-Ender," has made life rather difficult. | Finally after years of waiting I no longer was just my father and mother’s son. It was time for me to take my profession, as decided by my genetic traits. There were several of us in line, I was next. Sweat dripped from my face as I waited praying I wasn’t given the last name of fisher, or even worse a Kellog. Fishing and butchery paid the least out of all the professions, and besides that wasn’t my dream anyway. I wanted to be a spaceman, that is, travel the stars, but anything would be better than butchering animals, or plucking them from the sea. But most of all I wanted to travel, I wanted to leave my home, and space was the furthest I could get.
My parents had dreams for me as well. They both wanted me to be assigned a more profitable last name, such as goldsmith or a mender. I had neither the urge nor the skill to be either of these, I didn’t especially like fine handicrafts nor was I good around blood. My father and mother just wanted me to have a better life than the one they had. While we aren’t poor we weren’t wealthy either, my father being a brewer, and my mother being a spicer. It was a hard life for them but we never went hungry.
Finally, at last it was my turn. I stepped up to the machine and it latched a thick metal ring around my neck. I felt as though I was suffocating, but I wasn't. It was just tight. The machine started to whirl as it processed me. A million thoughts ran through my head as the machine grabbed my arms. “Please, please no fisher” I said to myself as the machine tightened it’s grasp on my arms. I then felt a slight burn on my arm as my last name finally appeared… “World-Ender”...
Thoughts race through my head, World-Ender? What kind of last name is that! That can’t be a profession! World-Enders, don’t make anything. As these thoughts quickly race through my head and a guard notices the machine has not yet let me go. She sees the last name assigned and gasps, quickly she places a black bag over my head and orders everyone else in line to leave the room and to go back to the waiting area. I had no idea what was waiting for me next. | "Welcome to the gang, kid" he said, pointing to a group of men, aged from about 15-30, rugged and outcast.
&#x200B;
I was recently orphaned. I took my mom's life at birth, and my dad despised me for me it. So much, in fact, that he named me 'Marcus World-Ender', for that is what I had done to him. I dont have many memories of him. Just that he used to work a few odd jobs here and there. Finally one day he decided to off himself. Leaving me behind. A 12 year old.
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I did what i could to survive. Mostly rummaging through garbage near bakeries and savories shops. I usually sleep at bus stands, but with the new anti-homeless spike seats thats become a problem. Last night i was just trying to crash in the alley by the Starbucks, when I saw a man in a white suit getting mugged at gun point. I froze at the corner, and watched as the suited man handed over his wallet and phone and walked away from there. The mugger noticed me and walked to me.
"Whatchu doing here kid? Where're your parents?"
"They're dead, sir. I swear i wont talk. Just let me go. Please."
"You eat anything?" he asks as he rummages through his pockets. I nod sideways. Pulls out a snack bar and offers me. "Come along kid. No need to be afraid. We'll take care of you. Im Joseph Muggs. What's your name?". "Marcus World-Ender". "Oooh! You'll fit right in kid"
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And that brings us to now. At the outskirts of the city, in a run down building which possibly was a motel a few years ago. Joseph signals to the group, and a few of them come over. "Guys, this is Marcus World-Ender. And I'd like for him to be part of the group now."
He then begins to introduce me to a few of them. "This is Murdering Mike, thats Stealing Steve. This big fella here is Crimes Johnson." I was curious but was still a bit apprehensive about being here.
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We huddled up against a dumpster fire, with some other teenager fetching us some, soup? i think. I was sitting next to Crimes Johnson. Deciding to break the ice, I said "Crimes Johnson uh? What crimes do you do?". He just chuckled and said "Me? I think i just made a bad tweet once. Eat up kid". I took one sip of the soup and spit it out. "What is this?".
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"We gotta make do with what we find. And usually that means anything Chungus Hunter can catch. I guess he found nothing but bats today" | 2021-06-19T23:37:11 | 2021-06-19T22:09:46 | 15 | 10 |
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