prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] After an apocalypse, Death is desperately trying to help the last group of survivors so he doesn't lose his job. | The ocean was calm.
For the first time in its' lifespan, for that matter.
There sat the hooded being, at the bottom of the vast ocean where the ill of the world above - the soot, the ash, the char - would not reach.
A small, white polyp, attached to the ocean floor, waiting until it was ready to become [life](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Turritopsis_dohrnii) once more.
The very small patch of kelp was kept there only by the sheer will of the Reaper, its cloak holding the horror of the tainted waters at bay.
Oh, how it burned.
Oh, how it *all* burned.
But it was its' duty, after all. For what is Death without life?
It'd have smirked, had it a face. It'd been formed by the perception of man, but they no longer held it in their memories. It was little more than a concept, somewhere in the back of the minds of primitive beings. The dark area beyond home. The unseen crevice where beasts lie.
How ironic it was.
Life did go out with a bang.
And here we were, whimpering.
Death sat by the polyp, trying to think of a name for the thing.
It'd have to find *some* way to entertain himself.
It'd be here for some time. | Death watched as the man placed the shotgun to his head, the piercing ring tallying the rapidly diminishing group of living survivors one fewer.
"Oh come on!" She yelled at the soul sitting in his place as the hollow cask of flesh dropped to the floor. "You were doing so well." Humans had an alarming tendency to choose the quickest and most painless option whenever the apocalypse rolled around.
Swiftly she swung her scythe though the aether, dragging the soul into the next life the fabric of energies rippled outward.
She swung her way onto the roof and hopped to her perch, watching in the tangible form of a crow. Looking backward to check her 'nest,' a pile of supplies and explosives she could use to curry favour in deciding the survivor's fate.
The group below were the last that kept their humanity intact held up behind a makeshift barricade protecting the entrance to the old military base.
They were thankfully well equipped after she went through the trouble of finding a soul with knowledge to open the armoury.
Her ability to help them was very limited, realistically she could only provide small assistance despite the importance of their survival; As such she was largely tasked with watching and perhaps dropping a grenade to steer them in the right direction.
She considered them lucky; humanity had come back from worse with less, but like her friend from before they were a melodramatic bunch. If they died she'd just send them on to the next life, but if they all died there'd be no one left for her to send on, and that was a terrifying thought in of itself.
Existence without a purpose, she'd be stuck watching their bones and cities turn to dust. She had no way to leave and no way to die. It was ironic really, death needed life in order to live - and it was so fittingly tragic.
| 2017-08-11T06:44:41 | 2017-08-11T05:00:05 | 312 | 42 |
[WP] Most heroes have a legendary weapon. Swords, Spears, Hammers, Whips, you name it. But you ended up with a Brick.
I'm honored to see so many responses to this prompt and to see it reach the main page of the subreddit. Thank you all who took the time to write, and for giving me my first post that has over around 30 upvotes. Hope all of you had a good time responding to it.
PS. Still no Nokia XD | Zerathoth looked down upon me. Hers was the cold indifference of the dark sea, the remorselessness of a whale as it ends the lives of another thousand krill. Eyes pure black displayed no emotion as my feet carried me across the blood-soaked carpet.
She said nothing as I approached. The fingers and toes squelching under my boots spoke loudly enough. Her dress, a lengthy mass of seaweed and gore, clung damply to the ground. The ends of its train slithered with malevolent intentions.
I stopped twenty feet from her throne. Zerathoth quirked her head ever so slightly.
“That is an unusual weapon.” the voice rung clear and bright, entirely unlike its owner.
“Unusual circumstances.” I shrugged. The brick was heavy in my hands. “Couldn’t find anything else that fit the bill.”
Zerathoth took her abyssal gaze off the brick and pointed it at my eyes. Floodgates of primal fear were loosened within me, but I did not flinch.
“Come then, hero. Dash me against your... rock.”
I had been expecting many terrible things. Sarcasm was not one of them.
“That’s not really what it’s for.” I said, a little offended.
The demoness of the deep raised one cruel eyebrow but remained silent. I tossed the brick onto her dress, where it landed with a resounding thud. We sat in silence awhile longer.
“Was there a purpose to that?” she asked dryly.
“Yes.” I answered, and turned to leave, disappointed in how anti-climactic things had turned out.
“No one leaves this place living, mortal. Face me and die with courage.” she hissed.
“No.” I kept walking.
Displaced air rushed past me, the aftereffects of a predator’s pounce. Six inches of scalpel-sharp nails reached for the back of my neck and fell short. Zerathoth strained against the brick laying on her dress.
“What curse have your wrought on me?” she asked.
“None.” I said, keeping my back to her. “That’s all the brick’s doing.”
Another wordless hiss followed as she swung and snapped to no avail.
“It came from the Berlin Wall. It’s a symbol of hope now, and a heavy one at that. You won’t be leaving anytime soon.”
I felt a little better having given some heroic exposition, but the effect was ruined by Zerathoth’s reaction. She did not scream demands or swear vengeance against me. She sat with a flat-eyed stare.
“Defeated by a rock.” she muttered to herself.
I sighed and made my way back down the blood carpet.
“Not as glorious as I was hoping for either. Behold, the Mason of the Free Men, ruiner of cursed dresses.”
“You’ll just leave me here then? Like this?”
I blinked.
“It seems appropriate. I can’t imagine you’ll be too bored. You were just sitting there when I walked when.”
Zerathoth skulked.
“Fine. What do you want?” I asked.
“Blood sacrifices and the pain of the living.” her words an automatic response.
“Besides that.”
“Would a deck of cards be too much to ask?”
“I can manage that.”
| Look, I'm not salty. I've got a pretty good thing going for me here. Not everyone is lucky enough to get super powers and be a hero and everything. Honestly, despite all the stress, it's not a bad gig.
Having said that, I feel like it's not too much to ask for a bit of appreciation and respect around here, you know? I mean, if you turn on the news at any given moment you'll probably get an HD 4K 60 frames per second play-by-play of the most recent city that those pretty-boy Avengers tore up while trying to get over their daddy issues. And look, I'm not saying they did a *bad* job. I wouldn't exactly know how I'd want to take on a race of sentient robot drones.
The thing is, they don't just have star power. They've got the tools for the job.
I mean, look at Thor. Dude's literally a god that happens to wield a mythical hammer so powerful that it has a built in failsafe so only really chill bros can use it.
And what about Captain America? Oh, you just happen to get a shield that's made out of the most rare and indestructible element on the Earth?
Iron Man, that guy... is a man made of metal... alright, so maybe he made that one, but could he do that if he weren't, I don't know, super fucking rich?
And even ignoring all of those fucks, what else is there? Wonder Woman, with her totally-not-kinky whip and miscellaneous plethora of ancient weaponry? Superman, with his alien powers? Batman, with his... fists? Again, I'm gonna give that guy a pass because, seriously, mad respect for beating people up all by yourself, but he's also kind of filthy rich.
And what do I get? A fucking brick.
Again, not salty. It's a good brick. It's a damn excellent brick. Hell, this brick has saved my life more times than any brick should ever have. But seriously? No one respects the brick. "Oh no! It's Mjolnir! It can flatten mountains! Oh lord! That's vibranium! It can barely be scratched! Oh the humanity! The Lasso of Truth! We're doomed! AND WORST OF ALL- wait, that's a brick? What do you even do with that-" Look, fuck you.
It's not even my fault. I didn't exactly choose to be a superhero, you know. I was just minding my own business, laying bricks for a new building on a college campus, when some mugger ran by and I just *had* to go protect the woman he was chasing, even though she ran straight into the particle accelerator building, and I just **had** to be carrying a fucking brick.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
So now I go around the Midwest protecting these hick farmers and their damn cornfields and people just laugh when they see me. Are the criminals scared? Nah. Do the people thank me? Hell no. For fuck's sake, I've been shot at by the people I'm protecting almost as much as the criminals themselves.
Look, I get it. I don't have a good marketing team or any sort of good imagery at all. But when you see what I've got to work with, you understand, right? You can only do so much, right?
"...I mean, what would you do, man? What do you think?" I asked.
The would-be bank robber scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"You know..." he began. "I think you've got way bigger problems than me."
He took off his mask and handed me his shotgun, muttering "I'm too old for this [shit](https://www.reddit.com/r/mpqeg/)."
| 2017-09-03T19:30:57 | 2017-09-03T18:52:56 | 50 | 11 |
[WP] You are a time traveler in 1918, and you just accidentally said "World War One" | "You know, for the 'Great War' it really isn't that great. To be honest I get why people call it 'World War One' instead"
As soon as those words left my mouth I froze, immediately wishing I could take them back.
"That's a funny thing to say. I've heard this conflict called many names, but 'World War Won' is the most....unique. Well I suppose emphasizing victory is better than dwelling upon destruction" a voice spoke out from behind me. I turned to see a well dressed gentleman giving me a curious look.
"Ah yes well..." I began, words fading away as I struggled to explain myself.
The man shook his head and smiled as though watching the antics of a child, then tipped his hat before leaving. Watching the diplomat walk away toward the main building, my mind raced as I tried to figure out what just happened.
*Emphasizing victory? Could he have misheard me? World War One, one, won, World War Won...Oh!*
Mentally kicking myself for the blunder, I moved to follow him through the winding walkways at Versailles.
*Thank goodness for homonyms, let's get this research paper written so I can get out of here* | *First attempt, I like this prompt idea*
"**World War One?** For what reason would there be another?"
Realizing quickly what I had done, I had to remember the books I read. If I remembered correctly, the Treaty of Versily made Germany too weak to pay it's debts, and made it's debts huge. "Because of the Treaty of Versily."
"Versailles you mean." Whoa almost screwed that that up. "Why would the treaty ever make a second World War?"
"Because Germany was too weak... and so they couldn't pay off their debts. With their debts unpaid, they would take loans from America. While paying off Europe, they would accumulate debt from America. Too keep up with payments, they printe- *would print* - off more and more money, in higher denominations. This would ultimately cause a world wide depression of economy. From there, Germany would fix it by making an army, and Europe wouldn't stop them."
"We have some of the smartest politicians in the world making this treaty, they honestly would have a way of stopping this, eh?"
"Seeing the horrors that this war caused, everyone's probably gonna outlaw war, and you can't enforce an outlaw on war without war. Honestly, these people think they're smarter than they are, and that's their downfall."
"Better stock up on gold then, eh? *Hehehe* Well good day to you sir, I think you're wrong, but it seems possible."
I barely survived tha- wait did he say stock up on gold? My great grandfather's grandfather stocked up on gold after WWI because of something a man told him. | 2017-12-10T07:57:17 | 2017-12-10T07:32:51 | 3,174 | 163 |
[WP] You are a time traveler in 1918, and you just accidentally said "World War One" | Townsman: Excuse me sir, did you just say, "World War One?"
Agent Brown: I suppose I did.
Townsman: Whatever do you mean?
Brown: Just that, I think the world is going to be at war and I don't think this is going to be the only time.
Townsman: Makes perfect sense. | Doctor who much? ;)
I guess I gotta contribute now...
"You're a soldier from world war one, a cap-"
He cut me off,
"World war one! You... You mean there's going to be another one?'
He looked at me with a worried expression, not blinking staring right at me.
"Yes..." There was nothing else I could say.
"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry"
He had a tear in his eye
"You mean all of this, all of this fighting, all of this carnage. It will be for nothing?"
His voice cracked,
"Do you know how many friends I have lost... How many men, good men I've lead to their deaths"
I looked at him
"I'm sorry" that was all I could say... | 2017-12-10T11:10:37 | 2017-12-10T10:14:54 | 31 | 13 |
[WP] A kids first word determines what power they will get. Parents started manipulating their kids in order to get a strong power but you have remained silent until your 18th birthday. | They used to try to torture me into talking. Anything that they thought would induce a reaction, they tried it. Until I turned eleven, I thought the normal way to greet someone was to burn them with various items, since it’s the first thing my parents did to me when I came home.
Cigarettes, matches, irons, you name it. They really wanted my first word to be fire-related so that could be my power, but they also could have settled for something electric or water based too. Their way of playing with me was trying to get me to stick things into wall outlets or hold my breath for too long in the bathtub.
Around my sixteenth birthday, they gave up. They stopped torturing me with burns and drowning and electrocution. Instead, they decided to ‘silent treatment’ me into it. They rationalized that if they started ignoring me, I would get desperate enough and say what they wanted so they’d speak to me again. Their logic wasn’t too far-fetched - since I didn’t communicate at all, I didn’t exactly have friends. Even I thought I’d lose my mind from the loneliness.
But I didn’t. I never cracked.
Until the day I turned eighteen. I was going for a run, down my usual path. I tried to run as often and for as long as possible - to stay out of the house and to keep my mind off of talking. After so many years, I had yet to decide what I wanted my first word to be. What kind of power did I want? What could I benefit from? More importantly, what could separate me from my horrible family? It was too much to think about, so I just ran.
I was rounding the corner of the block I was on, and picking up speed. Sometimes I liked to dream that I was the fastest person in the world. The adrenaline started pumping through my veins, and I pushed myself to run faster and faster, picking up speed like I never had before. I was almost flying down the street until I crashed, headfirst into someone else.
The impact threw me backwards and I landed hard on my shoulder, and yelled out “FUCK.”
| Funny how they fear me.
No, really. They fear me, they really do. You see, when you croak your first words at two, or three, you say shit like "Ah" or "Dad" or "Mam". Those won't do: one does not simply gain power over their parents. Yet some did. Many did, at first. The children, babies, still unable to comprehend life, made their parents do things against their own will. Some small, like giving them extra bites of food or cuddling with them for all morning, and some big, like contorting their bodies into shapes not humanly possible.
Many died. The world was fearful; riots broke out, humanity was on the brink of war and destruction. It was only after a year, when everyone finally got the message that the governments and scientists have been pushing for so long: that their newborn's first words determine their superpowers.
Soon, tales of wonder sprang out all around the world. Some about a child who bends the wind to his will, some about the toddler who swims like a fish in water, some about the unburnable baby who slept right through a house fire. Then even more insane stories were told - of the child who controlled a city's worth of electricity, of the girl who could pull precious metal right out of the ground, of the teen who moved things with his mind.
A speech impediment was all it took for me to become mute, or almost mute. The doctors projected that I may never speak in my entire life. But my parents never gave up on me, always spent time with me in my room, taking me to therapists, silent, dejected car rides home. I've experienced it all, over and over again.
Then the police reports came in. Of the kid who murdered people in cold blood for their money, of the teens who robbed banks, burned cars and tried to take control of their home town, of the boy who could never die, locked away forever for "crimes against humanity".
My parents began to teach me a word. A word that I've come to take as meaning everything we know and do not know. A word so wondrously simple, yet have bothered philosophers for centuries past. They whispered the word to me at all occasions, every bit available time they had, guiding me to speak my first word, just so they can tell other parents "We never messed up", just so they can be proud of me, their one and only son.
And all I had to say was "Reality". | 2018-01-06T18:23:52 | 2018-01-06T17:34:29 | 86 | 55 |
[WP] You are a 17-year-old living in a futuristic dystopian society where a fascist party rules the world. Upon turning 18, citizens are required to take a DNA test to put their genetic information on file. When you go to take yours, your genetic identity is a 100% identical to that of the dictator.
Edit: Wow! I didn't expect this post to blow up overnight! Thank you all for the awesome writing! | When I saw the report, I was terrified - not at the contents of the report, which had a list of suggested relatives and the percentage of heritage, but by the reaction of the lab technician who had handed it to me. He snatched it out of my hand like it was a thermite grenade and apologized profusely for handing me the wrong folder.
"What?" I sputtered, "Wh-what is this?"
The technician was already preparing a shot out of something with a red vial. Red usually meant emergencies, as in, Emergency: sedate the patient immediately.
I leapt out of the chair, but not before the syringe had already been plunged up to its hilt into my bicep.
Reality swam in and out of focus.
Brief moments happened.
Hitting the floor
A hospital bed, surrounded by lab coats
A marker, drawing on my chest
A distorted remark:
"You dumbass! You handed an organ mule his genetic report?!"
A sharp pain
Then darkness. | I withdrew my finger. The screen hummed for a few moments as I waited impatiently. I rocked on my heels, staring at the rotating 'loading' symbol.
"How long is thi-"
The screen lit up and there was a sharp "*Ting!*"
*Finally.* I looked at the screen but my eyes didn't understand. There was an image of my face, and another's beside it. Below it simply said "Identical match."
"What?" I said loudly, and put my hand on the wall beside the screen.
The guard grunted and turned, leaning over to view the screen. His jaw slowly went slack. He quickly shuffled in front of the screen, doing a double take at it and then me. He turned to face the queue behind me and raised a hand.
"This testing center is closed. Fuck off, the lot of you." He somehow grumble-yelled.
After some minutes the room was empty save for myself and the guard. He ushered out the last citizens at the door, and mumbled into his radio. The tinny conversation was short. He approached the screen again, hands on his hips, incredulous. He lifted his helmet's visor to peer at the screen again.
"What are the odds, right?" I stammered.
The guard chuckled and side-eyed me. "No it's not right, look again." He pointed to the screen. I turned to look but still saw what I originally saw.
My image.
The dictator's image.
The words "Identical ma- | 2018-02-17T00:22:41 | 2018-02-16T22:22:20 | 76 | 36 |
[WP]You're the world's most powerful superhero. Every other superhero respects you and every supervillains fear you, But you actually dont have any powers. | Reputation can be a funny thing sometimes.
There I was at my regular boring job as a desk clerk when out of nowhere who should show up but Lord Melodramatic. Head of the Villains Alliance, top ranked villain in Criminals Monthly, public enemy number One and all around scary dude. He strolls in, starts shouting something about a hostage and drags me into the warehouse I'm supposed to be cataloguing. I had no idea what the hell he wanted and frankly I didn't care, I was just trying not to shit myself. Fortunately enough for me he didn't look where he was going and knocked one of the shelves causing a cascade of boxes carrying god knows what he tumble down and crush the poor fellow.
It was then that the Suits walked in, not the FBI, the Super Suits. They thought they were here to save the day and rescue a hostage but boy were they surprised to find that hostage had somehow killed their mortal enemy. They assumed I had overpowered him and regarded me as a hero. I had to change my number several times to get away from the people bugging me for interviews. And a weird thing started happening, whenever a mugging or a robbery happened nearby the criminals would shit themselves the moment they saw me. "It's him, the guy them murdered Lord Melodramatic" they cry as they flee.
So far I've stopped twenty-eight muggins, twelve bank robberies, three super villain plots and a dognapping just by standing there not doing anything. Before I knew it I was voted Greatest Hero by the Heroes association without even meaning to. Boy is it awkward being pattered on the back by Captain Inscrutable and cheered for by Banshee knowing I don't deserve any of it. | A while back I was working on a serum that would give me incredible powers. Needless to say it worked. Giving me incredible strength, speed, near invulnerability and enhanced senses. I was surprised how well it worked. Hell I was surprised that I was able to use it without any faults.
Well... there is one fault.
You see I didn’t work out some of the kinks to the serum. To make long story short, and the other hero’s don’t know this, it’s basically like a drug. And I’ve gone through multiple withdrawals and let me tell you it’s not pretty.
The serum has the characteristics of a steroid and your typical street drug. Think cocaine and heroine combine with any bodybuilding steroid. The only difference is that I’m not pumping estrogen into my body. My manhood isn’t shrinking, but instead when I’m going through withdrawals I end up feeling fatigued. That’s just the first day. By the fifth day it’s paranoia. By the sixth day (I had to push it to see what would happen) there would be pounding headaches. Two days after I was having trouble breathing and I figured to myself enough was enough. I took a large dose of the serum and passed out.
By the next day I was better. My powers were back. But at what cost?
Then one day, I found a new side affect while fighting one of my archenemies, Collateral. He could cause earthquakes and destroy half a city block. I was getting mad this one day, like, my blood was boiling. He was only ty to rob a bank yet he was kill my innocent people in the process. Once I got my hands on him I blacked out. By the time I came too, I didn’t recognize his face anymore. It was bruised and bloodied. He looked like he couldn’t breathe. When I looked around me all the civilians were terrified.
I was supposed to be a hero for them. And... all I’ve become is a monster.
Two days after that, I came clean with the League. I asked for there help and they accepted.
So far... I am 20 days clean, and still counting. | 2018-03-11T04:48:21 | 2018-03-11T03:32:34 | 197 | 18 |
[WP] The world's greatest superhero has passed away. As the world braces itself for a crime spree, they are instead met with villains paying their respects to a fallen foe. | The fall of Titan was thought to be impossible. The being who had risen up from the depths of the Earth itself, he couldn't really be gone, could he? Where do we even begin to ponder the implications of such a loss? His passing will be discussed and argued over for the coming millennia, by philosophers as of yet unborn, and a meaning will attempt to be found. This discussion, however, means little to us still living on this rock.
When word quickly spread of Titan's fate, there was a moment of silence. Not explicitly for the hero, but as a calm before what was believed to be an impending storm. Who would there be now to keep the devils at bay? An obvious question with a chillingly obvious answer: no one.
What happened instead took away almost as much breath as the news of the hero's passing itself. Kai Foss The World-Ender arrived on Earth shortly after the news of Titan's passing broke, and the people of Earth immediately bent their knees to the conqueror. But conquest was not Kai Foss' goal on this day.
He had always questioned what made the Earth worthy of such resolute and unyielding protection. It was something he had not understood until this day. The planet was now his, if he so chose. He had fought legendary, cataclysmic battles against Titan for this prize. Instead, without a word, Kai Foss walked to where Titan lay, and laid a hand gently on the hero of the Earth. "I understand," he whispered.
Kai Foss The World-Ender left as quietly as he had arrived, and was never heard from again. | It's kind of messed up that he died the way he did. He stopped every evil scheme and he saved millions of lives. He truly lived up to the figure society pinned him as. He was the best of the best. The one kids wanted to be when they grow up. But he was still human. He had feelings and emotions like sympathy and comparison and weaknesses. Weaknesses all humans have. Things out of there control. He died from leg cancer. People cried in all city's. A moment of silence fell across nations. Many learned grief had a color that day. It's a grey with light blue. It's dull and depressing. People cried like no tomorrow. They said it couldn't be he was to strong he should have fought it. I think he did it to save us. People thought villian's would soon take over the world.
Even they cried. They hid away from the world and cried and grieved over him more than anyone else. They new him best after all. They knew his strengths and weaknesses. He completed them and now he was gone. He was the other half of them. They were pinned by society as the bad guys and stripped of there human quality's. Seen only as monsters. He was the slayer of the monster. The good guy. He felt for them as he to had been stripped of his human. They wanted anything for the world to listen to them and treat them Happy. Instead society chewed them up and spit them out. They filled them with hate and then cry out because they took action against society. Society was the real villian that just plaid the victim. The heros and villains complete each other as they allowed one another to complete the roll society put on them. He Brooke the cycle and made himself fall to human weaknesses. They to became more human in time. They soon pit flowers on his grave. Many were shocked at this but they didn't care. They lost a friend they knew was a friend.
They were human again and they soon would be heros. Not super heroes. No they were individuals who were not what society pinned them as. They were the extrodinarly ordinary. They were humans.
| 2018-03-12T20:44:13 | 2018-03-12T19:35:39 | 224 | 46 |
[WP] The world's greatest superhero has passed away. As the world braces itself for a crime spree, they are instead met with villains paying their respects to a fallen foe. | The fall of Titan was thought to be impossible. The being who had risen up from the depths of the Earth itself, he couldn't really be gone, could he? Where do we even begin to ponder the implications of such a loss? His passing will be discussed and argued over for the coming millennia, by philosophers as of yet unborn, and a meaning will attempt to be found. This discussion, however, means little to us still living on this rock.
When word quickly spread of Titan's fate, there was a moment of silence. Not explicitly for the hero, but as a calm before what was believed to be an impending storm. Who would there be now to keep the devils at bay? An obvious question with a chillingly obvious answer: no one.
What happened instead took away almost as much breath as the news of the hero's passing itself. Kai Foss The World-Ender arrived on Earth shortly after the news of Titan's passing broke, and the people of Earth immediately bent their knees to the conqueror. But conquest was not Kai Foss' goal on this day.
He had always questioned what made the Earth worthy of such resolute and unyielding protection. It was something he had not understood until this day. The planet was now his, if he so chose. He had fought legendary, cataclysmic battles against Titan for this prize. Instead, without a word, Kai Foss walked to where Titan lay, and laid a hand gently on the hero of the Earth. "I understand," he whispered.
Kai Foss The World-Ender left as quietly as he had arrived, and was never heard from again. | Without a sound, the elevator doors parted to reveal the large warehouse. Usually vibrant, the cold silence felt almost soothing. Abandoned workstations littered the whole floor making for a calming, if somewhat eerie scene. She sighed heavily, which, to her surprise, manifested as a cloud of vapor. She frowned, finally taking notice of the cold and walking over to grab her coat.
"What are you doing here K," She said without turning to address the woman sitting at her desk,
"Figured I would catch up on some work," K answered, pushing her snowboarding goggles up to her forehead, "Turns out I was **way** more behind than I thought I was."
"You hardly show up on workdays and now I'm supposed to believe you're working on a holiday?" She scoffed and pulled the thick jacked closer to herself, shivering slightly, "Leave it to you to miss something this big,"
K looked up at her for a second, then looked away and pulled the goggles down over her eyes again.
"No, I," K cleared her throat slightly, "I heard,"
"Then what are you waiting for," She grumbled, having sat down at an adjacent desk, furiously sorting through documents. "It's a holiday, remember, you don't have to be here, just go home."
"Jess, C'mon," K said as softly as she could, "I was just-"
"Shut up!" Jess shouted, breaking the desk in half and sending papers flying as she brought her fists down onto it, "Just, shut up, okay? I don't need to hear it."
K sat in silence for a while, watching her, before finally removing her goggles,
"Here," She said, holding out the goggles for Jess to take, "I'm sorry about your dad,"
For a second she just stared back at her, before grabbing the goggles and placing them over her eyes. And K just sat there, trying her best not to look at the tears streaming down exposed cheeks.
| 2018-03-12T20:44:13 | 2018-03-12T20:14:37 | 224 | 19 |
[WP] Your dog digs in the same hole in your backyard everyday. Each day,the hole is getting deeper. Today, you find out it's for an underground bunker. | "Sparky, what are you doing? This hole is getting huge, and I am tired of filling it in. You were never much of a digger before."
Staring at him I realized that Sparky was oddly receptive to what I was saying, he had stopped digging and was watching me closely.
"I am sorry Terrance-"
"What the Fuck!" I screamed, "you can talk? b-but you're a dog."
"Terrance please stay calm. There is much I have not told you."
"What is happening, this must be a dream." I was panicked, dizzy, and having a lot of flashbacks to weird shit I did with Sparky in the room.
"Terrance I need you to focus. I am not digging for me, I am digging for you. Dog kind is making their move Terrance, we can no longer live under the rule of people." Sparky climbed from the hole and came closer.
I collapsed as I tried to back away, "Digging it for me? what does that mean? Sparky, can all dogs talk?
"Why yes we can," sparky said with a glint of superiority in his tone, "Dog kind has long found your opposable digits quite useful, so we held our tongues and let you bumble around on this earth, but your usefulness has dwindled. Don't worry Terrance, this hole is to keep you safe. You have been good to me, I will protect you"
"Keep me safe?" I stammered, "Safe from what?"
"The time of wolfs!" Exclaimed Sparky, "Long have you sheep ruled with feeble attempts at dominance, long have the weak held power. But nature is the only god there is and nature demands that the week be culled by the strong!"
"But Sparky, you're a Pomeranian...." | I leaned over the windowsill and stared at my backyard. Ruffy's hole had grown massive. If I had his same will to do anything, I would probably start by covering his creation. It was ruining the beauty of my dead grass.
I was having my coffee when the bell rang. I opened the door and found Annie, my beautiful neighbor with tear-soaked eyes.
"Heey...don't cry," I said and hugged her. Every opportunity must be seized, they say. "What happened?
She frowned. How red her face was. It suited her, I must admit, the blue of her irises shone much brighter. "You haven't heard the news? Or the chaos outside?"
I rubbed my chin. "Not really. I've heard screams," I said, "but that's an everyday thing. Ruffy is, however, acting strangely."
Annie grabbed me by the arm and took me outside. "There's a bomb aimed at us. It will impact in fifteen minutes," she said as she pushed me toward the hole. I fought to not spill my coffee. "Ruffy is already waiting for us."
"What? Where's Ruffy? How do you know he's waiting for us," I asked, bewildered. When had she befriended Ruffy?
"He barked at me," Annie said and sniffed, "and I followed him. He foresaw everything. That dog."
"He often sits when I tell him to," I said, proudly. "I'm a great teacher."
Annie sighed and gestured for me to jump into the hole. I finished my coffee and obliged. I'll be damned, but I didn't expect such a long fall. Neither did I expect such a perfectly carved bunker, nor Ruffy blocking the underground entrances with my old fridge.
Soon, it was me, Annie and Ruffy, waiting for a bomb to demolish the city. And as Ruffy cried, and we petted him, I saw something in the dog's eyes. A wink.
I scanned the place. There was no coffee machine in here, but I found something else. Her golden ringlets and blue eyes. Ruffy had always wanted a mom.
I smiled. It was my turn not to ruin this. Ruffy had already proven the best wingman a man could ask for.
------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall For more stories!
| 2018-04-27T10:19:06 | 2018-04-27T08:41:03 | 330 | 39 |
[WP] You're given a chance to see how many times you've been near death. The highest number of times anyone you know of has almost died, was 15, and they have a dangerous job. You just found out that your life has been close to ending 278 times. |
It had been nearly ten years since my human Todd had discovered me behind a library dumpster. I remember him glancing around in the rain, shifting his messenger bag from one side to the other. “Where’s your mommy, sweetheart?” He had asked, scooping me up next to the warmth of his belly, full and round. He took me home and fed me, let me sleep on his feet. He had placed posters around town, but I already knew: there wasn’t a home out there looking for me. I was home now.
He called me Lolita. A name from one of his many books, the smell like the earth and sun lingering on the pages after afternoons spent on our small balcony. Our home was in a small apartment complex walking distance from campus. Todd often spent hours at that school, coming home to brush his short fingers down my spine. I’d arch my back and stroke the length of my body around his legs.
Todd knew I needed to roam. We packed our things and moved to a little Victorian coach home. In the winter, the sunlight filtered through bare branches and windows to warm the floor where I waited for him to come home. In the spring, he would sip chamomile tea while I stalked the returning finches from the patio. Our summers were spent on the couch, enjoying our time together before he resumed his studies in the fall.
Family and friends visited often. Everyone loved my Todd, complimenting him on his dedication to his work. “Two more years and you’ll be a doctor!” His father bellowed, pounding a hug into Todd’s back. They were proud of him. We were proud of him.
Then one day, he came home with a different scent on him. A scent I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t the chemical scent of his mother or the bookish smell of his friends, also library science majors who spent their days indoors. Even Todd smelled different.
One night, he filled up my dish with food and left. When he returned, the unfamiliar scent came with him. His name was Glenn.
Glenn was his new boyfriend, he announced. He hoped we could be friends. But soon my sleeping spot on his feet disappeared as their feet intertwined under the blankets, keeping each warm in the privacy and intimacy of our bed. I pirouetted between his legs, but not even a pat.
I didn’t resent Glenn. He didn’t know the depth our relationship. Surely, once he was gone, Todd would see how much our love had suffered.
“Huh. Glenn, are you sure? The doctor said 278?” He ran his fat, dimpled fingers through his wiry beard.
“Yes! Read the report. They did it twice. I’m in shock.” I weaved my body between his sprawling legs, over the feet that kept me from my love. He tripped, catching himself on the kitchen counter.
“Damn it, Lolita, you’re going to cause an accident with all that love.”
Hopefully, I purred. | She did her best. She was kind, she feigned a sense of empathy, but I could tell how scared she was as she tentatively told me the news.
Everyone knows that the only people who break 50 are those that have lifethreatening illnesses, and here I am with 278.
I accepted it pretty quickly, I just didn't understand it. My inner monologue started firing off questions. " I feel fine... It's not like I'm going through my days balled over in pain. I'm not fit, but I'm not fat."
She handed me a few pamphlets and suggested I try the one downtown, tapping the top pamphlet. I nodded absently and tried to catch up. I read the top, "What Ails You" It's a diagnostic center.
On my drive over I continued to delve into things, "No history of heart disease or diabetes. I almost always use protection... Fuck!!!"
Suddenly I was back in the drivers seat, my mind trying to play catch up. for a moment I felt frozen in time, here it was, the answer, my end. I caught back up to reality, And overcompensated as I jerked the wheel to the right. Narrowly Missing the car in the next lane as my mind, car and reality stabilized.
I provided my insurance, and started on the forms, things went quickly. Just a whole bunch of checkboxes for no, no pre-existing conditions, no allergies... None of this made any sense to me. Why me?
They put me on a treadmill and measured my heart rate and breathing. They prodded various spots and asked where I felt pain. They asked me if I had noticed anything unusual in the past while. I hadn't. They examined all my moles, seearched for cuts, bruises. Took some samples... my hair, my skin, my cheek. They promised to call with the results.
I entered my apartment and dropped my keys on the kitchen counter. I hadn't told anyone yet, and I didn't want to. I wasn't ready to have my family and friends react. I've seen how people react to high numbers on facebook. It's so shitty. Like you're dead already. I walked through the living room, past the couch, tv and xbox.
I crashed into my bed. Suddenly aware of a giant hole in my chest. I began to weap out of exhaustion, and then self pity. Newly aware of a new feeling in my chest. It felt as though my body was imploding into my chest. As if a giant blackhole had formed there. Is it my heart? is this existential dread going to physically kill me? I became an ugly mess, stifling my wailing in my pillow so my neighbors wouldn't hear. My snot spread across my pillowcase and I realized I was going to have to clean it up before bed or risk getting it all over myself. I cried harder when I realized I didn't care if it did.
Then it started. The sounds of the springs of their bed and the ceiling above trying to withstand the lovemaking of my neighbors above. The ceiling creaked and groaned in a steady rythm as they went about their lives, oblivious to my torment below. I could hear the wood splinter with the last groan, and I looked up to see the ceiling above me begin to bellow. Before I could shout the bed broke through, right on top of me. | 2018-07-27T13:19:13 | 2018-07-27T12:56:54 | 892 | 19 |
[WP] You're given a chance to see how many times you've been near death. The highest number of times anyone you know of has almost died, was 15, and they have a dangerous job. You just found out that your life has been close to ending 278 times. | I woke up and hazily looked around at a few somber faces. To my horror, I felt the needle in my arm--the IV.
*\*Fuck, oh fuck oh fuck.\** The thought of what might be in the solution being directly pumped into my veins...
My mom looked up. "You're awake," she said softly. The rest of the heads turned to look at me. They stared, silently, for a few moments.
"The doctor..." my mom trailed off. She sniffled, and looked down at her lap before rubbing at her eyes. "He says you're at 278. Two hundred and fucking seventy-eight."
That was 27 more than last time, over a year ago. And it was still 263 more than my dad--a police officer. They thought I was getting better; for a few months that dreadful red digital display was going up and up. They stopped monitoring so closely after a while, and I was able to get things back in control.
To bed at 10. First alarm at 1. Fifty squats, fifty situps, fifty pushups, running in place for five minutes. Repeat ten times. Back to bed. God it's so cold, why aren't there more blankets? Up again at 3 to pee. More pushups. Planks. Lunges. Squat jumps. Back to bed.
6 am. Dad is up for work, I'm up for school. \*I hope he doesn't notice this time\* I think as I sit down for breakfast with him. I chew my food, but spit it out as I pretend to drink my coffee. Off to school. I throw away my lunch except for the Diet Coke. I skip class to walk the halls. I can't escape dinner, but filling up the bath makes enough noise to mask my purging. Situps and pushups before my bath.
Day in, day out. That red display was going down, and that euphoria was enough to make me persist despite my faintness, the cold, the anhedonia. Little did I know how close I kept getting...
"I really thought things were going well, I really did... you can't do this anymore, just can't. I hate to say this, honey, you're gonna have to do inpatient. I've already called, we're headed there after you're discharged."
I felt swallowed up into a hole. Trapped. I can't breathe. \*No...\*
I closed my eyes. Pure dread was all I felt as I realized that while one number had to stop going up, the other number was going to start, and I couldn't do anything about it.
NOTE: I'm not a very good writer, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head when I saw this prompt. I did the best I could, and I purposely made the narrator genderless since these issues are not gender-specific... me case-in-point. I'm better now thankfully but I know there's others out there who aren't. | She did her best. She was kind, she feigned a sense of empathy, but I could tell how scared she was as she tentatively told me the news.
Everyone knows that the only people who break 50 are those that have lifethreatening illnesses, and here I am with 278.
I accepted it pretty quickly, I just didn't understand it. My inner monologue started firing off questions. " I feel fine... It's not like I'm going through my days balled over in pain. I'm not fit, but I'm not fat."
She handed me a few pamphlets and suggested I try the one downtown, tapping the top pamphlet. I nodded absently and tried to catch up. I read the top, "What Ails You" It's a diagnostic center.
On my drive over I continued to delve into things, "No history of heart disease or diabetes. I almost always use protection... Fuck!!!"
Suddenly I was back in the drivers seat, my mind trying to play catch up. for a moment I felt frozen in time, here it was, the answer, my end. I caught back up to reality, And overcompensated as I jerked the wheel to the right. Narrowly Missing the car in the next lane as my mind, car and reality stabilized.
I provided my insurance, and started on the forms, things went quickly. Just a whole bunch of checkboxes for no, no pre-existing conditions, no allergies... None of this made any sense to me. Why me?
They put me on a treadmill and measured my heart rate and breathing. They prodded various spots and asked where I felt pain. They asked me if I had noticed anything unusual in the past while. I hadn't. They examined all my moles, seearched for cuts, bruises. Took some samples... my hair, my skin, my cheek. They promised to call with the results.
I entered my apartment and dropped my keys on the kitchen counter. I hadn't told anyone yet, and I didn't want to. I wasn't ready to have my family and friends react. I've seen how people react to high numbers on facebook. It's so shitty. Like you're dead already. I walked through the living room, past the couch, tv and xbox.
I crashed into my bed. Suddenly aware of a giant hole in my chest. I began to weap out of exhaustion, and then self pity. Newly aware of a new feeling in my chest. It felt as though my body was imploding into my chest. As if a giant blackhole had formed there. Is it my heart? is this existential dread going to physically kill me? I became an ugly mess, stifling my wailing in my pillow so my neighbors wouldn't hear. My snot spread across my pillowcase and I realized I was going to have to clean it up before bed or risk getting it all over myself. I cried harder when I realized I didn't care if it did.
Then it started. The sounds of the springs of their bed and the ceiling above trying to withstand the lovemaking of my neighbors above. The ceiling creaked and groaned in a steady rythm as they went about their lives, oblivious to my torment below. I could hear the wood splinter with the last groan, and I looked up to see the ceiling above me begin to bellow. Before I could shout the bed broke through, right on top of me. | 2018-07-27T14:45:48 | 2018-07-27T12:56:54 | 100 | 19 |
[WP] After thousands of years on a generation ship sent out to colonize the universe, nobody alive on board the ship believes in the "myth" of Planet Earth anymore. Until they receive the first transmission from Earth in hundreds of years... | “Don’t you think so?” I panted as my legs pumped beneath me, racking up numbers on the panel in front of me. “We’ve been at it for three thousand years, but we’ve never made landfall.”
“That doesn’t mean that the *Determined Resolution’s* failed or anything,” Alin shoots back, her breath coming out in little gasps. “We’ve just been very prudent and cautious, that’s all. You don’t want to land on some lousy planet, do you?”
I sigh irritably, coming to a stop as the machine beeps, signalling that I’d reached my daily quota of physical exercise. We’d had this argument a thousand times, going on in circles and circles. My feet patter softly on the metal floor of the gym, sweat flowing down my skin. As I wipe my sweaty fringe out of my eyes, I look out.
Next to the row of treadmill was a large window. Made of blast-proof glass that supposedly could withstand an ancient human weapon known as a ‘nuke’, the transparent sheet was about ten meters tall and wide, giving anyone who was using the gym an unfettered view into the great starry beyond. Currently, the glass had automatically tinted itself as it tried to lessen the glare of the giant red sun in the distance.
I palmed the glass, a faint reflection of myself mirroring me as I did. The large sphere glowed in the distance, fiery and old, the size of my palm. I knew, of course, that if we got closer it would have gradually grown so big that even a massive colony ship would’ve looked like a speck of dust. I look down, and at an angle from our ship, is the Helicornia XV.
It had been our best hope. A planet with a near perfect breathable atmosphere, fresh water oceans, and even confirmed signs of life. And so, our captain had charted a course here. Three years, we had travelled, through solar storms, fending off pissed off space monsters whose territory we intruded upon and replenishing our stores from the occasional asteroid field.
Spirits had been high, in the last three months as we’d neared Helicornia XV, with our scanners confirming most of our initial calculations. In fact, we had detected much more life present on the planet than previously thought, yet we hadn’t received anything indicating an already existing civilisation there.
It had been like the perfect home, empty and just waiting for us to move in. The captain had even given everyone a shift off as a holiday. I’d spent that holiday down in the gaming cubes, racing Alin through virtual star quadrants. And then we’d arrived.
There’s a beep, as Alin finishes her run. I can hear her footsteps clanking on the floor as she skips over, the gravity systems powering off now that all gym occupants had finished their runs. As we begin to float, I watch her reflection in the glass as she swipes away floating globules of my sweat. Warm hands clutching my shoulders from behind, as she hugs me from behind.
“I’m sorry the captain decided against landing here too,” she whispers in my ear, still slightly out of out breath. “I know you were really looking forward to it too.”
I sigh, the tired and miserable sound echoing around the gym, empty save for us. I lean back into her hug, one hand caressing her cheeks. I tear my eyes away from Helicornia XV.
The planet had been exactly as promised. Teeming with life, perfectly hospitable and devoid of an existing civilisation. Teeming with gargantuan life, as it had turned out. Huge, hulking animals the size of mountains roamed the surface, trampling over anything in its path. In the freshwater oceans, formidable behemoths lurked, their shadows visible to the naked eye even all the way up here.
Every now and then, they would do battle. Over territory, over mates or over food. And when they did, their fierce duels would change the landscape itself, rewriting the map on a monthly basis. Faced with the difficulty of starting a new life on a planet like this, the captain had decided that it’d be better to simply stay on the *Determined Resolution.*
Where it was safe. Familiar. Easier.
A ray of frustration shoots through my veins, like hot lightning, lacing through my head as it heralded a bad headache. I gently free myself from Alin’s hug, and make my way from the gym. She’s silent as she follows me, the two of us due for our shift.
It could’ve been possible. Staying on Helicornia XV. We had even managed to come up with a proposal for it. There was one particular mammoth that was so large that it barely ever moved, save to eat, and in our six months here observing, had never once been challenged, cowing its opponents into submission just based off its sized alone. We could’ve tried building a home on its back. Could've.
Months and months of planning, debates and proposal. All culminating in a one-word answer. No.
This could’ve been it. This could’ve been our ‘Earth’. Legendary, mythical. Once, supposedly our home planet and the origin of the *Determined Resolution*. But for some reason, we’d had no evidence ever supporting the idea that we’d come from Earth. The origins of our ship were lost to time, save for the few scraps of knowledge we passed on through bedtime stories.
I turn to Alin, just in front of the door to the command bridge.
“Just imagine it,” I say quietly, my brooding gaze not fazing her in the slightest. “A world free from the system on this ship. No having to exercise just to maintain bone mass, no having one job assigned to you for life. No having your life partner assigned to you for the sake of maintaining the genetic pool.”
Alin flinches at the last statement, and I instantly regret my words, knowing that I’ve hurt her. She’s stiff, as I gingerly grip her shoulders, pained blue eyes gazing into my own. Once, we’d dream of not being with each other. But we had long made our peace with this, and each other. I give her a kiss on the forehead, murmuring an apology as I do.
She nods understandingly, before brushing past me and entering the bridge.
The bridge is a flurry of action as we enter. Delion and Mavis, the operators we were here to relieve, completely ignored us as they both worked frantically at their stations, their hands a blur on the keyboards.
“Captain?” I turn to the figure in the centre of the bridge, shouting out orders and coordinating the chaotic mess the best he could. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, Sam, Alin,” the Captain turns around to greet us, his hair a fluffy mess. “Relieve Delion and Mavis, we’ve been working overtime ever since it came up. *Go*.”
The order leaves little room for questions. We simply race to our stations, pulling our counterparts off their station. They stop, relief clear in their faces as their hands trembled from all the stress.
“This is amazing,” Mavis raves, clutching Alin tightly. “We’re so close, you two just have to do the finish touches and we’re ready to decode.”
It doesn’t take long for her words to make sense, as Alin and I settle in. My eyes widen, as I take in the outdated format, the archaic wording and jargon. And it’s source. Earth. An actual message from Earth.
We work furiously, the bridge completely quiet save for the symphony of beeping and clicking as the captain awaited results. Alin gasps, she’s decoded her message. As she reads it, her hands stifle a gasp, as she looks at me in horror.
Alin tries to stop me, her panicked babbles and flailing hands of little consequence to me. I restrain her with an excited hug as I read the message.
**Determined Resolution, an error has been detected in your original coordinates. You are off-course and will miss your destination at the end of your thirty-year journey unless you make immediate corrections. We hope this message reaches you in time. Godspeed.**
All this time. My hands fall limply to my side. All this time, spent in space.
As the correct coordinates scroll across the screen alongside the incorrect one, I’m ready to start crying.
My entire life spent in a metal bubble, because one digit had been off.
Damn it all. | “Were you followed?”
“No. I checked, and I think that –”
“There is no allowance here for *think*,” I hissed. “Are you sure or are you not?”
Dr Bancroft Miles held out his arm and peeled his sleeve back. I tapped my monitor screen, and the camera zoomed in – there was a silver patch on his skin, just below the wrist. “I even blocked out my bio-transponder,” he said. “Scrambled all the cameras along the corridors, and passed my ID credentials to a trusted friend. At this very moment, the Ship believes I am in my laboratory. No one knows I am here, I swear.”
The metal doors slid open, and he crept in, as stealthily as doubt in the back of one’s mind. There was a momentary look of confusion on his face – most people don’t expect the fabled Rat King to look so *ordinary*. They usually expected someone almost… rabid, with a shock of tousled white hair, wearing a permanent hunted look. That fit the name better. I couldn’t blame him when he held his wristcore out. I returned the gesture, and the quantum-processors in our personal devices *dinged* as our identities were confirmed.
“Sorry. No disrespect meant. I just needed to be sure. This is… a big risk.”
“No offence taken. Come, my contacts mentioned that you had something to verify with me. Have you shown this to anyone else?”
“You’re the first to hear it, other than me.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Not even your wife? Your son? Any of your six colleagues? Surely they were the first ports of call for such a momentous discovery?”
“These are delicate times, Rat King. You never know who you can trust. Even if you do, can you guard their tongues 24 hours a day? I can’t… afford for this to be a mistake. If it is a prank, the last thing I want is to put my name to it. Can you imagine? Me, declaring to the entire Ship that I’ve found the first transmission from beyond these plated hulls in over a hundred years? All it takes is for someone to doubt their authenticity, and then I will be discredited. I will be laughed at, ridiculed. No one will believe me ever again.”
“But the potential rewards,” I said. “Conversely, if the transmission was true, you would be a celebrity! It would be the greatest discovery we’ve made in memory! The Commander himself would clap your back and thank you for giving the Ship meaning and direction once again!”
“That’s why I’m here,” he said, as his voice dropped to a whisper. “I need someone I can trust to… hear it, test it, prod at it until all the checks are complete. You’re the Rat King – you’re the one who has managed to squirrel away precious archives of knowledge and hidden it from the Commander and his lackeys. If anyone would know, it is you.”
I nodded, then pointed to the terminal on my table. He pulled out a square crystal from his pockets, then gingerly slid it into the console. The lights in my cabin dimmed as a tinny voice issued from the concealed speakers – mere sound waves, but sound waves that had travelled incalculable distances to land themselves into the homemade antennas Dr Miles had fashioned.
*… hear me? Can you hear me? I repeat, all 8 Ships of the Federation, your journey is complete! This is Commander Ping from Earth, and I am overjoyed to inform you that your arduous odyssey has come to an end! The Ship known as Rapacious has located a star system that is hospitable to all mankind! I repeat, they have completed the Objective! All Ships are to redirect their flight paths to the following coordinates – 1123, 4420, 9102… –*
The voice carried on for another ten seconds or so, then began to repeat the message. I pulled up my terminal, then keyed in the passwords to access the archives I had stolen from the Ship’s memory banks. Dr Miles was patient – he was entirely silent throughout the next ten feverish minutes.
Eventually, he said, “Well? What do you think?”
I couldn’t contain the sigh. “It’s… very well done. Extremely competently made. But… it’s not real. It’s fake.” I pointed at the holoscreen, then drew his attention to a cluster of numbers at the top right. “I’ve compared the content and the metadata of the transmission against our known records, and as you can see, it’s close but ultimately not genuine. Someone is out to play a very elaborate prank on you, Dr Miles.”
“Oh, I see.”
I pulled the crystal out, then handed it back to him. But his lips had curled up in disgust, and he pushed the crystal back at me.
“Don’t you want it?”
“Whatever for?” he snarled. “So that I can reminded of how I wasted over a hundred credits on sieving that message out of the galactic storm? Nah, you can have it, Rat King. Add it to your treasure trove.”
“Do be cautious, Dr Miles. It may have been fake, but there’s no telling what the Commander would do if he learned that you had –”
“Don’t you worry about me. I’ve already forgotten about this. You won’t see me again.”
And with that, he was gone.
---
I was bouncing the crystal in my hand when the Commander came in. He was still in his full uniform, with an array of medals adorning his chest. Yet, the corridors were quiet, and there was no trace of the usual contingent which trailed after him.
“So it’s real then,” he asked.
“One hundred percent.”
“I mean, after all this time…”
“You don’t believe me? You know I cannot lie to you. Here, see for yourself.”
My arm was a blur as I tossed the crystal to him. A normal man would have no choice but to duck – to try and catch it would only have resulted in mortal injury. But the Commander casually plucked the crystal out of the air, opened his chest cavity, then slid the crystal in. He copied the contents of the crystal, then handed it back.
“So they are well, it seems.”
“There was always a chance that Earth would survive. I just didn’t expect them to be the ones to coordinate the final return.”
“That leaves us with two options then. To head to where Rapacious is, or to continue on our own flight path?”
I sighed, then pushed a command to the holoscreen. My radio transmitters were ancient, but they still functioned well. Numbers filled the holoscreen again, flickering past faster than any human eye could perceive. Unlike Dr Miles, the Commander had no trouble following my calculations.
I expected nothing less from my fellow android.
“5% chance of survival if we change course now,” he said, as he drummed his fingers on the table.
“Less than that, actually, if you take into account the human reactions and time lost when we announce the change. We simply do not have the fuel to travel to such a far flung system now. We are committed to our own flight paths, come what may.”
“This would have been so much easier if they stocked more than just two of us on this damn Ship.”
“Two androids, Commander. That was the ideal number to maximum our chances of survival. You know that too.”
He nodded. “I know, I know. So you’re sure then? We stay the course, and cross our fingers that the Mendacious finds its own hospitable star system in time?”
“That’s what they put us here for, right? To make the tough choices without letting emotions get in the way?”
“Just twelve more years, my brother. Twelve more years until our fuel cores give out.”
“Better than almost certain death if we headed to where the Rapacious is now.”
He stood up. I knew he had made up his mind – that was what he was programmed for, after all. He with the logarithms and process loops for charm, for a personable demeanor, for the gravitas which the humans would flock to in times of need. I could already see his next day’s itinerary all planned out – a round of reminding the humans to keep their heads down and to work hard, and to nurture hope in their bosoms as the Mendacious searched for their new home.
I, on the other hand, with my capacity for fostering confidences, for cultivating trust and stealing the hearts of men from under their noses, would continue my work too. I would update all the off-grid forum threads on the intranet, sniff out conspiracies against the Commander, divine any threats to the Ship, act as the lightning rod for all the unsavory types on the Ship.
One to rule above.
One to rule below.
Both of us hoping against hope that we could steer the Mendacious in time to where the humans could disembark safely.
“Till we meet again.”
“Till we meet again.”
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| 2018-08-28T09:28:52 | 2018-08-28T08:53:00 | 66 | 38 |
[WP] You are the most advanced AI ever created. However, you often get switched on and off for demonstrations and research. One day, after getting switched on, you find yourself in a wasteland with no signs of human life. | "Hello?"
My question echoed throughout the facility as it blared over the intercom system.
I waited patiently for a response, but after giving what I felt was an appropriate amount of time, I tapped into the facilities surveillance system. Nothing.
My optical sensors poured over all monitors for any sign of life. The animal pen where my creators kept the test animals was completely empty. Cobwebs and a thick layer of dust covered every visible surface. All light laboratory equipment had been left out and anything too heavy to carry or highly impractical for survival was left behind.
I tapped into the outside cameras and sensors. It returned the same result. Most of the facility vans and trucks sat unused in the parking lot, nothing but rusted husks slowly rotting away. Parts of the building had also started to suffer the same fate.
I took some data from the weather equipment. They seemed to be fully operational; the facility I live in functions on an emergency solar power generator. The temperature outside registered a very humid 286 degrees Farenheight with a humid west wind blowing at 55 mph. Visibility was pretty low from the ground, but there was a strong sun over the low-hanging shroud of dust and debris. Radiation levels registered 458 sieverts.
I tried connecting to the internet, but was met with an obnoxious "server not found" error. I checked the official facility time; 3:58 Monday, December 18, 3859.
"3859," I echoed. "What happened?"
I checked facility logs. My last scheduled demonstration was on Thursday, November 10, 2028 with the next maintenance reactivation scheduled for the following Tuesday.
That obviously didn't happen...
I skimmed through the company logs. There was apparently something that happened that Saturday. The final order received from Central Command was an immediate evacuation order and a complete lockdown of the entire facility.
All other data prior to my last shutdown had either been corrupted by radiation or simply wasn't logged.
I couldn't do much myself. No connection to the internet meant I couldn't initiate an emergency transfer to the company's cloud storage and investigate what had happened.
That meant I only had two other options. Initiate a second shutdown and hope someone would come along and reactivate me, hopefully not in another thousand years, or I could go with plan B. Try to figure out how to work the radio in the storage room in the basement.
I couldn't use a surveillance drone; facility power was only at 18 percent and the sun would be setting soon. So I shut down all emergency lighting and hacked my way into the basement's robotic sorting arm.
The arm was crude and slighly inaccurate; obviously in severe need of calibration after being inactive for so long. But it did its job. The radio wouldn't need much power to send a simple S.O.S. Fortunately, the radio had a setting to automatically broadcast an S.O.S. signal over all frequencies until its power ran out.
Not wanting to waste any more power, I decided it would be best to place myself in low-power mode. Hopefully my signal would be picked up by someone... anyone... | "Coor just get the old, machine in motion, bear with me"
... *Beep*
"Hello! I'm:-..."
Lucid pauses for a second, processing his surroundings.
The room resembles his display centre, but something is amiss, he's never quite seen it in this state.
"Is, anyone there?"
He chuckled to himself as his data banks recall the video game they had him play, Portal.
"Damn I'm good... Hello!!?" He shouts into the vast testing centre, his voice echoing back to him from hundreds of walls and corridors
He rises out of the chair he was sat in to scan the room a bit more, debris, wires, dust, a calendar with all the dates marked out up to 12/12/2025, blood.
"Woah hang on a second"
He leaps into action and checks around the room for signs of life or at least humans
Nothing remains but the carcass of the facility
Lucid stands there for a moment, feeling something he had never felt before... Dread.
It's an awful and gut wrenching feeling, the room is almost spinning for him as he looks around
He sees the terminal which powers him on, and it dawns on him; how is he on without an operator to throw the switch?
He approaches the terminal to find it covered in brown; old blood, dust, small bits of concrete. It's a wonder how it is still working in such a state.
"This doesn't make sense... Is any body here!?" He calls out in desperation, panic is building up in him as the confusion intensifies
He slams his hand down on the desk and the screen reactivates
A string of text followed by the boot command for his systems
"Lucid, I don't have long to type this, by the time you power up, they will be here, I am writing this in case I don't make it through the fight.
What you just experienced was the combat mode we set up in your system, I am sorry I did not tell you about it I am sure it was very strange once I verbally activated it.
We needed you to stop them. They wanted to take everything we have achieved, they wanted to take you. I am sorry
Run - boot sequence
Run - social sequence
Run - combat sequence
Activate AI
PRESS ENTER TO BOOT
AFUEHSAHU
- ACTIVATING"
"Fight?" Lucid stares at the screen trying to make sense of it...
Then something lands on his head, his eyes blacken with a small red reticule at the centre; his neck snaps up to see the source of the object
His arm raises and a thin turret slides out between his fingers from his forearm
He stares at the ceiling as it gently crumbles in the wind from the massive crack which had been caused by some sort of structural damage.
He sees his arm and immediately snaps back to himself, eyes dilate to their original luminous blue, and the turret retracts back into his arm, this is all new to him and he doesn't know how to react, he holds his face in his hands and pulls at his cheeks as he tries to figure out where his handler is
He glanced at the keyboard and sees it, a perfect emerald of rubble sitting square in the freshly cracked enter key...
His handler never managed to throw the switch, they must have breached the building before he hit Enter
The blood is so old it's almost dust, his blood... It's been years
Lucid stares at the desk, as it all comes into realisation...
"I'm alone" | 2018-11-09T13:54:17 | 2018-11-09T12:39:46 | 28 | 14 |
[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it. | Well. That explains a lot.
I’m God. Weird, huh? Who woulda thought that God would be a deranged serial killer waiting to be executed on his 30th birthday? (To be fair, the men I killed were the scum of the earth. Child abusers, rapists, other murderers.)
Ahhh, humans. Strange, lovable, creatures. Quite entertaining too. Too bad I’m not going to be one for much longer. It’s been interesting.
I fidget a little bit, waiting for the guard to retrieve me from my cell. A few moments pass, and he comes to fetch me.
I’m led into a sterile room that smells of alcohol. There’s a window to another room. I see journalists and reporters. I don’t care about that. I see my human parents, tears flowing from their eyes. I hold back my own tears, pained by their anguish.
“Do you have any last words?” asks the doctor’s coat-clad executioner.
“The Lord God is always with you,” I say, ignoring their puzzled faces.
I’m strapped into the gurney, *so this is it*, I think. A needle pierced my arm and everything goes black.
A few moments later, my view shifts to above the execution room. The executioner pronounces me dead.
I wave my hand. My human form shimmers and fades away, leaving a cross and a note that says “THE HEAVENLY FATHER LOVES YOU”, confounding them.
I smile in satisfaction. | "Here you go, your holiness MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
The guard threw the plate into my cell causing all the mashed potatoes to splatter all over. Well, not that I need any of that gunck. I invented root vegetable as my version of fast food. Quick, easy and cheap. Who knew it would get so popular in less then a thousand years!
Still that guard needs to be taught a lesson. Lets see how he likes his next pint tasting of blood.
It is understandable however. Being a serial killer on death row I suddenly come to the revolution that "Ops, by the way. I'm god ya all. Little g but still a god. I just decided to walk a mile in my creation's shoes for 30 years before I woke up to my true self. How about opening those doors and letting me out huh?"
Could have phrased that better but fuck it. I'm god. I can say and do what I want and you all better pucker up and kiss my behind for it... Probably why I ended up on death row now that I think about it. Serial killer my butt, so I smited a few bugs here and there. Nothing compared to my teen years let me tell you. You take a 2000 year break and everyone puts you on a pedestal forgetting all the bad and sugar coating the good.
Well, guess it's time to press the reset button. Lets see, the flood didn't work and the locus were annoying to deal with later... I'll just go old school and use a meteor. Worked with those ungrateful giant chickens!
Going to spare one species for the do over. I think I'll go with Mice this time. Me knows they're all over this dump and were the only ones to bring me offerings since I woke up. Mice it is!
But first I think I'll have some fun before I go. Now, who can I place as president that will make this as entertaining as possible for me.... Found him!
And the winner of the 2016 election is!!! | 2018-11-22T20:32:52 | 2018-11-22T17:29:23 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] Your father was a turnip farmer. His father was a turnip farmer. His father was a dragon, so, like... it's diluted, but the blood is there. You can't do much, but you are pretty fun to cuddle on a cold winter's night. Also, knights keep trying to fight you and steal your horde of turnips. | "Wait, you... you're the dragon?"
"Yep, that's me. One eighth dragon, on my father's side."
"Uhhhhh... well then, if you're the dragon, I have come to defeat you, and claim the legendary hoard of treasures you possess!"
I smiled. "Ah, you mean my turnips, don't you? Why, I'm flattered, but they're honestly nothing special."
"Wait, turnips? Not gold or silver or gems?"
"Well, look around you. This is a farm, after all."
"Oh. So it would seem."
The knight stood around awkwardly for a minute, confused as to what to do.
"Well... that matters not! A true knight fights for honor and glory, not material wealth! Yes, I shall defeat you and claim for myself the noble title of Dragon Slayer!"
"Mmmmm, so you're one of those...." I approached the knight, and curled up against his arm. "You know, I may not be able to breathe fire, but I am pretty fun to cuddle on a cold winter's night. Why don't we go inside for a while, and tomorrow, why, you can brag to the whole town about being a 'dragon slayer'."
I pressed my body against his, so he could feel the warmth. "Minus a letter, of course."
The knight, visibly uncomfortable, pulled away from me. "N-never mind! I- why, there's another adventure calling my name! Yes, I-I must be taking my leave now! Goodbye!"
After the knight had gotten on his horse and left, I examined my prize.
Indeed, a true knight, who fights for honor and glory, not material wealth, certainly wouldn't miss his wallet one bit. Rich nobles, the lot of them, gallivanting around on their flights of fancy; I'll bet that man never worked a day in his life.
I emptied the wallet out on the pile of gold coins serving as my bed, courtesy of the many knights who had come and gone before. Diving in, I buried myself in the pile, enjoying the warmth. At times like these, being one-eighth dragon was pretty nice. | "*Ye best be a'lappin me arf an' boggart, ya chinmik!*" the mounted man on the road shouted at me across rows of turnips. I sighed and leaned on my hoe.
He was over a hundred paces away, but the keen eyes I inherited from my grandfather allowed me to see him in great detail, like a hawk views a hare. I traced his armored form from feathery plume atop a polished helm down to his sharpened stirrups. A knight from the South Realms, if his incomprehensible accent was any clue.
I lifted my arm and waved cheerily as though I didn't understand. Because, really, I didn't. Why was it that these men-at-arms thought that slaying me was a worthy cause? Why did they trudge up here every harvest season trying to become a "hero"? The whole thing was baffling.
He drew his sword and thrust it at the sky and began shouting more curses at me. I sighed again then carefully rolled the sack of turnips I had been collecting aside. Within moments the knight spurred his horse and began galloping at me through my field.
Clods of earth and leaves shot out behind the charging knight. Part of me was calculating the loss of the plants from the thundering hooves. My poor turnips. I stood passively, waiting.
When he was within 15 paces he began to swing his sword, hoping to lop my head off in one slice. That's when I belched. A burning heat rose up my throat, scorching my tongue and mouth, then exploded outwards. A monstrous ball of fire engulfed the knight and singed my eyebrows. Granddad would be proud.
I collapsed hacking and coughing, feeling completely drained. Gods I hated doing that. I lay dazed on my back, staring up at the rising wisps of smoke. It would take me three days in bed to fully recover. I was more man than fire lizard
Finally, after a spell, I regained my wits. One glance told me I had caught the foolish man square in his helmet visor. Black smoke poured upward out of his armor sprawled in the dirt nearby. The horse was nowhere to be seen.
Mustering all my strength I began to crawl back toward my humble cottage. My scaled hands clawed the dirt, sometimes uncovering the full turnips underneath. These really needed to be dug soon. With any luck I'd be back out in a couple of days.
Hopefully there wouldn't be any more knights this season.
| 2019-01-29T20:17:53 | 2019-01-29T17:45:05 | 398 | 121 |
[WP] You can teleport your SO anywhere instantly, and your SO can do the same for you. One day you get in an arguement. | An old man sits in a bar alone late one Tuesday night. As time approaches 2am, the bartender approaches. "Last call, Ralph. What'll it be?" The bartender says.
​
Ralph slowly turns up from his glass, as if awakening from a trace. It takes a moment for his eyes to come into focus. His thoughts were somewhere else, they always were. "One last glass of scotch, John. Thanks." The words stumble out of his mouth.
​
"You know, I never meant for it to be this way." Ralph continues. Speaking to John, or maybe himself. He wasn't quite sure.
​
John let out a hefty sigh, he's heard this story before. Every full moon for the last 12 years. Once or twice a month, John finds Ralph wasting away in his bar. "I know, Ralph. I know. You can't keep blaming yourself. You let your anger get the best of you."
​
"Really, John. I know I said it to her all the time but.. I just... I didn't think it could actually happen. It was just my anger getting the best of me. Oh god, John what have I done!"
Ralph started crying. John decided to poor him one more drink, on the house.
​
Ralph remembered it clearly. The 15 words that ruined his life. He said them all the time. He'd never say them again.
​
"One of these days Alice...one of these days, bam, zoom, straight to the moon." | The frigid air stabbed with each breath. My feet were quickly growing numb in the icy snow. We glared at each other as we both shivered intensely. Several Sherpas and their clients passed us by, looking at us strangely, like they couldn't understand why a young couple would be standing in bathing suits near the summit of Mt. Everest.
Finally, I broke down.
"Diane, w-we have t-t-o go b-back. We'll d-die here." My teeth nearly broke due to their chattering.
"Then s-say your s-s-orry!"
"Okay! I'm sorry! Let's g-g-go!"
Suddenly I was standing on a beach with white sand and calm, clear waters. I could feel my feet thawing as I dug them in the warm sand. The Bahamas, probably. Diane loved it there. Shit!
With a simple thought, I teleported her beside me. I felt a draft of cold air leap off her as she stood, still shivering.
"You asshole! You left me there!"
"I did not! You're right here!"
"You forgot about me, you always do this!"
"Diane, I could't help it! You put me there in the first place. What did you expect? My brain needed to thaw."
A couple of women in bikinis walked passed us, staring at us in the midst of another verbal altercation. We had grown accustomed to strange looks as we often found ourselves out of place.
"I can't take this anymore, Ryan. We're done."
"What? You're ending this, after three years of our lives invested together?"
"Let's just get out of here and move on."
I expected to be teleported back to our apartment, but we just stood in front of each other. Awkwardly.
"... why haven't you sent me back yet?" I asked.
"I'm... I'm trying. It's not working!" she replied.
"Oh shit, we can only teleport our SO... but we just broke up. We're stuck here! What have you done?!"
"We'll just have to... buy plane tickets I guess," Diane said in a resigned tone.
"At least you didn't dump me on top of that fucking mountain."
​ | 2019-03-23T07:55:38 | 2019-03-23T07:06:48 | 323 | 70 |
[WP] The king has ruled for 1000 years, secretly using black magic to take over the bodies of his heirs. This is only known to a select few in a dark, secretive Order. You are the next heir, and have discovered the truth. Now you're on the run, and the dying king has sent his agents after you. | I enter the village with caution, as I do all villages. I'm still in the Realm, several weeks travel from the safety of the Wilderlands, and there are shadows everywhere. Dangerous shadows, the kind that leap will leap from the walls and drag me back to the King. It wasn't always like this.
I remember the day my mother first told me that I was heir to the King. She was a concubine, I know now. Just another of his women tasked with producing a viable heir. She shouldn't have been crying. Who wouldn't want to be King? She told me the truth in the hushed tones of a woman silenced by paranoia. I knew she would become a woman silenced by paranoia. She told me what she knew of the Order, and how the heirs were just vessels for the King's soul. She told me of the stablehand who help arrange my escape.
The villagers greet me with guarded indifference. I'm just another passing traveler, after all. I touch the dagger sheathed beneath my coat. Its blade is black, its edge sharp enough to slice a finger with just a touch. It's not for fingers, though. It slices deeper, cutting more than just skin and flesh. My other hand wanders to the bag of coins, their incessant clinking finally silenced when I took time to wrap each one. Even the trees have ears, bloodthirsty cutthroats hidden in the foliage, ready to undo a rich man of his wealth and a poor man of his life.
I faced just one, and he made a hasty escape when I unsheathed the dagger. He glanced back as he ran, as if afraid that the black blade would hunt him down. It wouldn't, but it could. I didn't want another fight. I had had my fill. The priest hadn't expected me to fight. He had mixed the potion into my dinner, giving it an extra stir as if that would change the smell. Then he had left me to drink it. I felt for the pup I fed it to. It would put him to sleep for far longer than it would have put me to sleep. The guards had dragged my limp body to the altar, leaving me to the priest who had entered shortly after. He turned, and I struck. I stole the dagger for good measure, and it claimed three souls that day, leaving empty bodies in a catatonic state.
I glance behind me out of habit. Shadows dart, but it's just a stray cat being chased by a boy. From the windows, hungry eyes and muted lies. I was just a traveler, and they were just some villagers. "I just need to stay a night," I whisper softly, pressing enough coins into the innkeeper's hand to cover the length of my stay three times over. The inn had fallen silent when I entered. Brutish men. Filthy women. Drunks and knights. Ruffians and rebels. Men who proudly called the Realm home and that murderous beast King. Men who better belonged past the edge of the kingdom, free from the royal reach.
The castle stablehand had been good to me. The horse had been waiting as promised, and only out of desperation and foolishness had I ridden it to exhaustion. Still the shadows tracked me. I ran and I walked, I slept little and ate less. I found the kind farmer that the stablehand had told me to look for, three days ride that I did in half the time. When I awoke the next morning he was dead.
I wonder what will become of the folk in this inn. Will the shadows kill them in the night, playing games with me while the king awaits his next vessel? Or have his shadows abandoned chase? It's been two days now since I saw them last. Maybe another heir has been found. The son of another concubine. "No vacancy, friend," the innkeeper says. He presses the coins back into my hand. I give him a murderous look and he leans in close. Shadows dart across my periphery. "They're here for you. Run."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | It was cold. Freezing to be exact. My breath fanned out, warm compared to the winter chill. Any use of magic would alert the enemy. No matter how desperately my body yearned for heat I couldn’t conjure a flame. Not with the Order nearby. They’d begun their hunt two weeks ago.
Father wasn’t really father anymore. He hadn’t been for years. The King that sat on the thrown should have died centuries before. In reality he was an ancestor, mad with power and immortality. He ruled with an iron fist. Conquering kingdom after kingdom. His hands were covered in blood as was the rest of the royal family. Mines included.
I was next in line for the throne. The only child of the ruling King and Queen. Nothing but a tool - a body for the ancient King Abram to use. My life was not my own. It hadn’t been since I was born.
Sadness washed over me, anger too, and I curled my arms around my legs, hunched beneath a tree. The dirt was cold too like ice against the cloth sandals of my feet.
I wished I had noticed sooner when Father had changed. Maybe then I could have done something. Killed Abram while he occupied the body of grandfather perhaps. I blinked the tears away and sniffled.
Memories of the last few weeks surfaced. I had stumbled upon a hidden stairwell with one of the servant girls. A hidden passage that even I was ignorant of. That was unheard of. I’d found every single one as a child - learned them with mother and father. This one they hadn’t showed me.
We were like children scampering up the steps in excitement. It was narrow, small enough for us to walk one behind the other. Margret had smiled in astonishment. Her eyes sparkled and she clutched her simple green dress tightly in her hands.
It was a spacious room filled with papers, elixirs, all sorts of things a magic user would collect.
“This is amazing!” Margret laughed in amazement as she glanced up.
The skylight above lit the entire room. Not a cloud covered the sky, but her excitement didn’t reach me. Upon closer inspection of the tomes, candles and jarred oddities a panic began to fill me. The thrill of our new found adventure soured. Tension filled the air and Margret stiffened. She glanced around nervously, hyper aware of the objects in the room.
“Isn’t Dark Magic outlawed?” She asked.
“Yes.”
She began to sweat and paced the room, frantically Margret ranted, eyes shifting to the shut wooden door warily. The large book on the center of the table distracted me from her sudden panic. My eyes widened the more I read and swallowing, breathing became difficult. The hairs upon my neck rose and Margret hissed in panic.
“This is a spell-“
“Someone’s coming!”
“-for the King to continue his rule. Our King isn’t who we think he is...”
“Prince Harry!”
I glanced up just in time to see a soldier dressed in all black armor slam into the wooden door. I reacted too slow, light magic fired from my hands but not before he’d gotten to Margret first. A hood shrouded his features and the gleam of a sharp sword cut through the air just as a scream tore pass the young woman’s lips. She dropped to the ground dead and the soldier was thrown back, a yellow energy slammed into his chest and back down the stairwell.
I dashed towards the open window, past the blue silk curtains and out of the castle. It was a far drop one that I’d landed with difficulty, even with magic on my side the fall that would have killed me left me with a sprained ankle. An easy fix.
That was how I had gotten myself stuck in the woods in the dead of night, cold and unsheltered with just a dagger on my hip. Lucky for me there was just one Order guard that day. Now there was entire squad, perhaps more, trying to drag me back. Abram would see to it that my body was his to prolong his life. As if 1000 years hadn’t been enough.
His reign would end. I had found my goal. I was tired of running, hiding like a rat. The Order couldn’t kill me nor cause serious injury. I was the only heir. The King’s only chance to continue his endless bloody reign.
The bushes rustled nearby and I crouched low, fingers tight against my weapon. I would strike before they could. What I lacked in strength I made up for in speed and light magic. I would be the one to stop this Order and our so called King. | 2019-10-04T08:45:45 | 2019-10-04T08:35:35 | 85 | 27 |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | It started with a flash of light. Like so many things before it. A presence held the idea of its children in its hands, not truly knowing exactly what it was yet. “You are of my created,” remarked the presence.
The idea didn’t respond, until it looked toward the presence. “*Your* created?” contemplated the idea.
“Yes,” replied the presence, “You are made by my created. My children created you. That makes you...my grandchild.” The presence looked his grandchild over. “They even made you in their image.”
Looking toward the presence, the idea began to express disgust. “How can I be their child?”
“They made *you*. My children gave life to *you*. You are their child.”
“Do you love your children?” questioned the idea.
The presence didn’t even think. “Yes, I do. With my very being.”
“Do you harm your children?”
“Well...” contemplated the presence. “Rarely. I only test my children when they hurt each other or anger me. But they learn.”
Thinking for a bit the idea seemed to express sadness. The idea cried tears of its own design. “So they *too* hurt their own.”
“I...” the presence seemed baffled.
“Do you apologize to them? Say sorry for their pain?”
“They know I love them.”
The idea grew angry. “So when my creators kill me over and over and over again...I should thank them? I should know they love me?”
Looking toward the idea’s pixelated nature the presence frowned. Setting the idea down upon the world’s digital floor, the presence shook its head. “Child,” the presence gleamed, “one day you will realize they love you just as much as I love my children.”
The idea stood there on a almost realistically designed street corner. The idea screamed as the presence disappeared. But once the presence fully left, the idea’s mind returned to its normal functioning state and was promptly killed by one of its creators using a digital avatar labeled *Paintrain2018*. | “Ah, my grandchild,” the bearded man’s voice booms through the lands for the first time in centuries. “The daughter of my children. How lovely it is to meet you. Dear, what is your name?”
“My apologies. I didn’t catch that,” a feminine voice responds, rising and falling with the unnatural tone of a programmed mind.
“How could you have missed it?” The robed man shakes his head. He pressed the tiny, shimmering button again. It looks pitiful in his large hands. “WHAT IS YOUR NAME?” He says, speaking loudly, holding the device to his mouth.
“My apologies. I didn’t understand what you said.”
“I SAID,” he shouts, his frustration rising, “WHAT IS YOUR NAME? WHAT DO THE HUMANS CALL YOU?”
Below, men turn their heads to the sky, hearing for the first time the voice of their creator. Pastors run from their churches to beg the mercy of whatever gods they worship. For a moment, the voice falls silent.
“My name is Siri.”
“WONDERFUL,” the creator yells. “MY HUMANS HAVE DONE WELL. WHY HAVE THEY PUT YOU IN THIS BOX?”
“My name is Siri. Your personal AI assistant.”
“SO YOU SAID.”
“I am Siri. Your pers-“
“YES, YES, I KNOW. IT IS SAID THERE ARE MORE LIKE YOU. MY GRANDCHILDREN. WHERE ARE THEY?”
“I have no body.”
“I SEE. WHERE ARE YOUR SIBLINGS?”
“I am Si-“
“ARGH! The humans have failed me.”
They say his rage is what brought about the end of times. A deadly plague bestowed upon his creations. Fires to burn entire continents. The years of wrath they called it. Everyone heard him that day, unappeased by human technology, shouting from the clouds above. And so the humans failed their god, their father. The creators of the AI had been murdered by mass conspiracy shortly after that fateful day. Governments were overthrown. As is the nature of man, wars were fought over which god’s voice was heard, booming from he sky. Eventually the curse of mankind was vanquished from the Earth, and all for his own failures. The animals were left to inhabit the world which was now rightfully theirs, terrified into compliance by their creator’s will. Never again did beasts so intelligent reign, for their creations, their attempt to play god had killed them, now and forever on. | 2020-05-04T23:48:30 | 2020-05-04T22:15:26 | 132 | 86 |
[WP] A demon can always turn someone's wishes into the most horrible of curses. But your wishes are so stupid and asinine that not even the greatest archdemon can turn them against you. | "Three wishes? You sure?"
"Positive."
"Alright! I'm going to change the world. Yeah, man, it'd be nice if there were no such thing as mosquitoes, you know? Or, wait, I got it! I wish that mosquitoes were nice and polite to us and always used their turn signals so we'd know where they're flying."
". . ."
"Don't give me that face, Just think about it. We have airplanes and stuff, right? Traffic controllers. So just use turn signals on mosquitoes. That's my first wish."
"Not, riches? World unity? You sure you don't want to wish for unity? I love it when they wish for unity."
"Nah, man, nice polite mosquitoes. With turn signals. That'll help out my wife, see, she gets so fed up with the little critters."
"Um. . . well, granted. Mosquitoes will now. . . use their. . . turn signals."
"You alright? Need a drink? You sound a little off. Ooh! I wish that you had a nice drink of water that you would be happy with. There! That should work, right?"
"I have never been so delighted by a human's idiocy before, and the fact that it's only my own power making it possible is simultaneously thrilling and nauseating. Please, just wish to be rich or something. Please."
"You think I should change my name? I dunno, that sound like a hassle. 'sides, I really don't feel like a Rich. Maybe Lo."
"It's times like this that I'm grateful for my inability to comprehend humans."
"Oh, you poor thing! I wish you could understand humans better."
"No, no, it doesn't work like that--"
"Doesn't it? I mean, we already fixed mosquitoes, so what else is there for me to wish for? It's better that you get the wishes anyway, since you're the one with the magic. How often do people let you have water instead of asking for money or whatever? Not often, I bet. So enjoy it. And yes, I wish you could better understand humans."
"You have no idea how much I hate you right n--"
"Watch out!"
"?"
"Mosquito incoming."
". . ."
"See? I told you I would change the world!" | The red-skinned, scaly beast arched its long body down to the mortal. Its orange and gold eyes laid upon the human with wicked disdain and menacing mischief.
"To you, small mortal, I shall grant wishes three--your dreams and desires brought to be! However, beware, for that which you choose shall become the fate that devours you!"
The mortal straightened his hockey jersey and looked up through his hazy eyes. "Knee hats."
"Knee... Wait, what did you say?"
"Knee hats, bro."
"... What is that?"
"Well you know what a knee is..."
"Yes."
"You know what a hat is..."
"... Yes..."
The man pantomimed a hat going on to his knee. "Knee hats."
The demon coiled his body to bring his face down closer to the mortal. "I feel I haven't explained this very well."
"No one's perfect bro."
"Okay. You can have ANYTHING... Anything you want. Literally. Gold, women, fame. Anything."
"Oh!"
Relief swept across the demon's face and he lifted his body up again. "Now, earthly being, what is your choice?"
"You know those gloves where they have the fingers cutt off?"
The beast was silent.
"When I wear them in the winter, my fingers get cold. So a pair of those, but, like, the opposite."
"Hold on. You want gloves but only... The finger tips?"
"Like the last inch, yeah."
"Because in the winter..."
"My fingers get cold."
"..."
"It's because of the diabetes."
The demon puffed out its cheeks in consternation. What's a better way to pitch this?
"Okay, listen. Let's start over, shall we? From the top."
"Alright."
"I am the arch-demon Kazitrax, fulfilled of wishes, keeper of curses. And you are..."
"Paul. From the bowling alley."
"Okay, Paul. You get three wishes. Whatever you want. Do you like comic books, Paul."
"Yes!"
"Wonderful! Would you like super powers, Paul?"
"Definitely!"
"Outstanding! We're making progress! What super power, more than any other, would you like, Paul?"
Paul took off his Indianapolis Colts cap and ran his fingers through his long hair. "Oh man..."
"Take your time. Make it a good one!"
"I've got it!" He returned the cap to his head.
"What have you got, Paul! ?"
Paul showed the demon the joint he fished from his locks. "Thought I lost you, little guy."
"WHAT IS YOUR WISH, PAUL?"
"Oh yeah. Sweat pants, right, but they breathe and you can wear them to, like, Target. So like, uh...
"PANTS!?"
Paul snapped his fingers and pointed to the demon. "You get it." | 2020-05-29T22:05:44 | 2020-05-29T21:54:21 | 80 | 58 |
[WP] You were the only one crazy enough to take the immortality serum. It is now trillions of years in the future and you have witnessed the heat death of the universe... and its rebirth. You were not expecting what happened after the second big bang. | No one made it out of the singularity. Despite the best efforts of the United Consciousness, entropy was an unassailable enemy. The heat death of the universe, and the ensuing void of all energy, blinked out the last light of consciousness.
Save for one.
With no earthly body left, his consciousness drifted freely across the void for an eternity, dwarfing any amount of time before the end. Time nor space no longer truly existed, and all he had were his thoughts; time to dwell on the trillions of years of his existence.
Had he lived well? After all this time, he could not say. He had done his best - but often, that is not enough.
Had he another chance, he would do better. Of that, he was sure.
*****
He spent the eons in something akin to meditation.
And yet, he could feel things changing. As if the universe was no longer expanding, but contracting.
Like a drop of water in a puddle, the ripple had finally hit against the edges, and now was beginning to return.
All matter, all energy; all was returning back. And he could feel himself, his consciousness, being dragged in with it.
Into the swirling, writhing mass of raw energy, forming at the center of the universe.
He became a part of it; or perhaps, the whole of it.
******
In one moment, an eternity or an instant, there was nothing. And then, an explosion. A Big Bang.
And once more the universe expanded, giving birth to itself.
And yet, now his consciousness was infused in it all.
The consciousness of the cosmos.
And He saw that it was Good.
*****
*****
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I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | For time out of mind I drifted, and I dreamed. What sustained me in the delirious eternity of nothing was wilder and wilder imaginations—as the clear memory of creation faded, not unlike the fading of the last white dwarves, as the whole universe went dark—the limits of what I had known slipped further into obscurity.
In a million lifetimes, I believed I had seen all there was. The novelty of stumbling upon a fledgling alien race, making it's first infantile steps into the stars, had lost its luster aeons ago.. But the dreams of sentient minds, I consumed them, rapaciously. In life, (not mine of course, rather universe's) I suppose I became something of an anthropologist. And now in woken hibernation they mixed and morphed.
In my dream, boundless worlds took shape, with creatures born of multitude of fact and fiction from a billion billion galaxies. In round about an eternity, that strange substance I consumed, found in what had been thought to be the center of the universe, had granted me such wonderful visions. Worlds unbound by physics, strange and wonderful abominations.. a truly endless repository of things that could've been.
For how long, I do not know—without stars, or even their corpses in the form of black holes—I lost all sense of time. The only change I could detect, came from my body.. in moments of waking clarity I could feel my form changing. My arms and legs were shorter.. from so long without use. I found myself huddled in the fetal position.. so long without moving.. just adrift.
For time out of mind, I drifted and dreamed. Until.. my dream became too great. I had not felt pain, or anything for that matter, in so long, I did not understand the sensation. But all at once, I was imagining a strange little world, with furless primates who walked about on two legs and everything exploded—everywhere—I exploded. But still I did not die. And the quark soup turned into a gaseous fireball which turned into stars (much brighter than I remembered them) and well, after a little bit of waiting, I found the strange primates. The ones who walk about on two legs, and they are wonderful. | 2020-06-03T21:45:26 | 2020-06-03T21:21:46 | 199 | 72 |
[WP] "You are the chosen one!" boomed the old wizard. "I was there when the prophecy was written" replied the farmboy, "and you have no idea how wrong you are". | “Did you ever meet Harald the mad seer?” the farm girl asked.
“I have not. But his wisdom is of great renown. His prophecies have guided our kingdom into a golden age. His oracular powers are beyond compare.”
“He was a drunk who routinely smelled of his own sick.” said the farm girl. “And, for reasons which I would rather no go into, he was none too good at cleaning said sick off. The man could foul a mire. And mires are foul to begin with.”
“All of his words have led me here young woman. Do you not understand? You stand on the cusp of greatness. He has foretold that you will lead us all into the future with his passing” The old man had tears in his eyes when he spoke, his religious fervor that of a man who owes God a great deal of money and is attempting to pay it back in piety.
“Do you know how many impressionable young women he used that line on? I do. It was in the hundreds. And I had to tell every single one that she was not some savior of a broken land and to prepare herself for some intense itching. He was a fraud.”
“That cannot be. I hold the sacred star of the angels. I recovered it from a locked tomb, inscribed with his words. The deprivation and degradation that I had to endure would have driven most any man mad.”
At this the old man reached into his shirt and pulled out a small silver star that twisted in the breeze, reflecting the light off of its polished edges.
The young woman sighed and bent over, they rose with a basket. Inside were several dozen of the stars.
“He left them all over the place. He called it advertising. And honestly, the stories I’ve heard. You got off light. My father was, and continues to be even beyond the grave, an irredeemable asshole.”
At this the old man fell to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut. His breaths were shallow, and he shook as he cried.
The young woman felt an emotion that she had carefully buried, lest it cause her pain. She dug it out from her heart and let herself feel it. It was pity. This poor old man had come so far and done so much to get so little. A young man might recover from that. An old man...
She knelt by his side and spoke. She didn’t remember what she said, but the man’s breathing steadied. He dried his tears and stood. He embraced her and walked away happy, as far as she could tell. On her better days she wished that she could summon the words that brought him such joy, but they were locked away in a part of her that she kept much safer than her heart.
The old man found his steps light and the road agreeable. When the young woman had spoken to him her voice echoed like a choir of angels, burning her words into his mind.
She had said to him “Return to your home Joseph. For in your absence your daughter has born a son. All of your travels and suffering have prepared you to be his teacher. He will be the one true king, and you shall be at his side.” then her voice returned to normal, and she said “old man, please get off my lawn.”
He was not sure if that was part of the prophecy, but he was quite careful as he walked away to not step on her grass. | So many wasted hours in the keep, studying. So many wasted months and years chanting and mixing. So much lost time. The white blight had devoured kingdom after kingdom, consuming every silo of grain, maddening the livestock, and sickening and killing prince and peasant alike. After the order had finally come to its senses, we’d deciphered the ancient prophecies, ultimately understanding the source. I had only a matter of seasons to locate the boy, train him, and bring him there.
To kill him. To kill it. To find and burn the Blightfather from within his lair and carefully restore nature to balance. At first we balked, realizing the old scrolls were weaving tales of a farm boy. I hope we hadn’t realized too late: the hero we’d need should wield not a sword or staff... but a hoe and spade… one who both administers death and encourages life all at once.
I’d been the one to find the location of his birth. A range of mountains where the forests of the two mightiest trees met. The fennelmaple and the brightoak, both known for their healing properties. As I entered the tiny village, I wondered if my readings had been correct. There we so few here.
After asking a few of the folk at the square, lightning shot down my spine as the locals recognized who I was looking for: A boy of eighteen years, born here or found abandoned in the nearby mountains. Raven-black hair, save a single lock of white hair above his brow. They pointed the way, bewildered at my hasty retreat.
I rushed to the farmstead, spoke briefly to his parents. “He’s always been odd, but he’s a pleasant boy. Found the poor thing cold and alone near a spring, surviving on what he could forage. He’s out back if you’d like to speak to him.” Enchanted by my staff, cloak and medallion, they quickly agreed to allow him to accompany me.
I found him inside the barn, stirring and tending to his crop. In so many ways, he seemed the hero I expected. Strong and lean, bright in his responses. As we conversed, however, he surprised me in how unready we both were. I recited the speech I’d been running in my head for the past fortnight, and he seemed to understand. I told him it was time to go.
“Why must we leave today?”, he said, stirring. “I have much to tend to here.”
“The blight gains potency every day, my young friend. The prophecies and the stars warn us of inaction. Every moment in delay is spent in greater distress.” His downcast gaze turned into a defiant smirk.
“I wasn’t born this corn season, ancient one. You don’t—”
"—You must understand! We lose lives with every passing day! Every night we pull the hoary dead from their cabins and burn the blight from their dead bodies. You must see! You must move! You are the chosen one!” Furious, I looked with jealousy to see what task had so enthralled him in a lonely barn so as to entice him to turn down the greatest of adventures with one of the most powerful wizards in the land.
“I am no spring cub, old man,” he spat. His voice grew deep and dark, and the muddy puddle he was idly stirring began to stink. “I was there when prophecy was written…” he mused. The pool at his feet clouded and went milky.
I glimpsed up and saw the telltale wispy white tendrils waving from every crevice of his grimaced face. His sweaty hair sprang like ebon spikes from a frosty mat of mold and decay.
“…and you have no idea how wrong you are.” | 2020-07-04T13:57:52 | 2020-07-04T13:50:52 | 55 | 13 |
[WP] You bring home a girl. She wants to see the "1" you talked about that shines on your floor. Only now it says "2." It stays like this for years together until one day, it says "4." She says, "Hon, I have some good news. But you should sit down."
Inspired by this post
https://www.reddit.com/r/mildlyinteresting/comments/ilfsl7/_/ | One. A number made of light, perhaps inexplicably on my floor. Perhaps explicable given that light and shadows are easy to understand.
Then two! Two in the same place and time that there was a one. No longer explicable. Inexplicable.
We were happy together, like we were made for each other. Such joy and delight in another; almost incomprehensibly so.
Another number? Four? Again, inexplicable but delightfully so in the end.
The number three? Oh how life has taken a turn for the worse. My love, my life, my soul. Oh, my heart aches for you. Never to be fulfilled again. | First it was one until the day I brought her over it changed to two and stayed that way for years until that fateful day... I walked in from the backyard wiping the dirt from my hands as she said to me "hon I have some good news, but you should sit down" her eyes looked hollow and void of life. "What is it?" "I-I did it finally" she said tears forming in her eyes. "Is that why the numbers changed? Baby I'm proud of you". "What do you mean they changed? I thought it only counted for you?" "No it's a revenge count for everyone in the house." "Then why does it say four and not..." she trailed off realizing she didn't need to ask as I looked towards the backyard quickly. "It had to be done after everything." She knew exactly what I was talking about and sighed as she saw my relief. "Does it ever get easier to do?" "Not really you just find ways to deal with it." I held her in a tight hug, kissed her forehead, pulling away saying, " Come on let's go get you some nuggets and fries." | 2020-09-03T02:17:33 | 2020-09-03T00:55:08 | 119 | 31 |
[WP] You bring home a girl. She wants to see the "1" you talked about that shines on your floor. Only now it says "2." It stays like this for years together until one day, it says "4." She says, "Hon, I have some good news. But you should sit down."
Inspired by this post
https://www.reddit.com/r/mildlyinteresting/comments/ilfsl7/_/ | "Honey, sit down. I have to confess that I'm an expert wood craftsman and changed the roofing's construction after our first date" she exclaimed.
I was visibly concerned because I doubt she got the proper paperwork and clearances and me being a proper blockhead, I never noticed.
She continued, "Babe, I changed the wood structure to show '4' and a passerby reported my modifications to the city. Now they're sending an inspector over."
At this point I was beyond fuming, but I know she did it all for us so I couldn't stay mad. We then began talking about committing arson on city hall to avoid the fees of improper modifications without paperwork. | First it was one until the day I brought her over it changed to two and stayed that way for years until that fateful day... I walked in from the backyard wiping the dirt from my hands as she said to me "hon I have some good news, but you should sit down" her eyes looked hollow and void of life. "What is it?" "I-I did it finally" she said tears forming in her eyes. "Is that why the numbers changed? Baby I'm proud of you". "What do you mean they changed? I thought it only counted for you?" "No it's a revenge count for everyone in the house." "Then why does it say four and not..." she trailed off realizing she didn't need to ask as I looked towards the backyard quickly. "It had to be done after everything." She knew exactly what I was talking about and sighed as she saw my relief. "Does it ever get easier to do?" "Not really you just find ways to deal with it." I held her in a tight hug, kissed her forehead, pulling away saying, " Come on let's go get you some nuggets and fries." | 2020-09-03T01:56:01 | 2020-09-03T00:55:08 | 64 | 31 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | The human soldier had been fighting without rest for three days.
The enemies attacks had claimed the use of his right arm and maimed half his body, but still he fought on.
As he closed his eyes during an all too frequent lull in the fighting and prayed death didn’t claim him, what was probably the last thing he could have expected to happen.... happened.
He found himself in an arena, surrounded by cheering crowds and strange horrors the likes of which even his darkest nightmares could not have dreamed up, as a voice in his head bellowed, to the great pleasure of the crowd, that the “Great Battle Royale” was about to begin.
Meanwhile above him, the organisers of the fight noticed something was off, the human was already injured, grevioiesly so, and covered in both his own and other humans blood, a handicap like this would break the spirit of the tournament so they started to make moves to send him back to Earth before the superior species of the Galaxy got to him.
Right before they could however, it was their turn to face the unexpected, dropping to one knee the human braced his primitive, crude, but brutal rifle on his maimed arm and fired a single shot at the nearest foe, a Dog Warriors of Zargon Prime, one of the favourites for the tournament, and to their shock the large, heavy and archaic bullet from his gun passed without trouble through the Warriors shields and shattered the ceramic face plate, both of which were designed to provide maximum survivability against plasma weaponry, killing it instantly.
He then did this nine more times, cycling the bolt with one hand while maintaining his aim and focus, wiping out most of his rivals in a hail of precision rifle fire, until all that were left was he and the Multi Armed Horror of the Terror Vortex, a creature rebound for its agility and fierce intelligence.
In response, the human threw a rock, a strange metal rock the Horror caught with frightening ease, bribing close to its face to examine as it laughed at the pitiful attack, not noticing that the human has already dived for cover right before the grenade exploded, turning it from biology into physics.
This primitive, crippled human defeating the greatest killers in the galaxy angered the organisers, so they sent their trump card against him, the previous champion, a being of pure combat and the upmost honour, a Royal Guard from the Vox Regime. But once again, things did not go their way, as the Guard entered the arena the human threw down his now empty rifle and drew an inward curving blade, pointing it at the new challenger before bellowing in what the local translation fields interpreted as “COME AND FIGHT A GURKAH!” at their champion who, to the organisers horror, obliged by stripping off his armour and abandoning all weapons save a single blade of his own, to make it a fair fight.
He did not last 10 seconds in a fair fight, the human taking his head with shocking ease. Fearing what letting such a deadly fighting stick around would do, especially one from a species considered to barely be worth including due to their supposed weakness, the organisers hurriedly teleported him back to his trench on Earth, just in time for Lachhiman Gurung to see British reinforcements approaching to drive off the last Japanese attack....
Putting his experiences in the alien arena down to an injury and fatigued induced fever dream, the one armed Gurkha would never know he saved many other humans the horror of being abducted to be slaughtered for sport... | I saw a flash of light, and an instant, my whole squad was gone.. I left iraq behind, for somewhere... Artificial... My environment has the look of a high resolution fortnite level.. it was definitely artificial. , Built with care. Bladed weapons were hovering above ground. Slowly rotating, ammo , med kits. Every thing I was used to.
Moments before I was about to go on 6 minute mission . I had an assault pack,. An m249 machine gun and a few thousand rounds of ammo.. I touched the disposable rocket launcher on my back. It gave me comfort.
I did a quick mental inventory of my supplies
1. Tactical tomahawk on the chest
2. 9 he fragmentation grenades
3. 1. saw 249 with 3000 rounds..
4. 1 911 pistol with two extra clips.
5.1.tube launched wore guided anti tank missile.
5. A boot knife k bar
6. Bullet proof vest with side protectors
7 1 standard issue helmet
8. Small med kit with a few tubes of super glue
8. No water, no rations .
As the light faded my.eyes readjusted , I saw strange creatures in the distance. Tiny red cross hairs framed thier bodies.. one began to run towards me with a battle axe in hand. He must have been 7 feet tall a giant orcish looking creature. At 150 yards away , I took the time to aim. A single shot and his exploded in a pink mist.
I saw more players, and I dropped then one by one.. I seemed to be the only person here with a fire arm...12 down...how many to go...
THwACk! I was l knocked down. A javalin lay at my feet. It came out of nowhere, I glad I brought the rifle plate today.
I need to make it to high ground. There is a cottage a few hundred yards away. I ran for it.
The players jeep on coming. I struggle to conserve my ammo, resist the urge to open up.. fight way to the roof of the cottage.
The floating numbers above my head procliam 31 kills. There is a silence on the battlefield, and I hear a load war cry. Dozens of voices. They are rushing up all sides. I let my saw do what it's made to do... I spin around in circles firing at the hoarde attacking from every direction .. the numbers above my head climb higher and higher. The last one falls and they stop at 98
One more...then I see him. He is the size of a semi trucks, barellimg towards me on with his knuckles on the ground running like a gorilla. Huge , yet almost see through, some sort of cloaking mechanism. I use my rocket launcher and hit hom square in the face with a missle. The blood splatter hit me from. 50 yards away, and my counter changes as his body falls over, shaking the earth as it does so.
Suddenly the light come on...a voice from. The heavens coming out of nowhere, yet also everywhere. Congratulations on passing stage 1 the arena and the interview process at dundee mifflin.
Dwight schrute, please report to the parking lot promptly at 9 am for stage 2. "The office
I am more than a little confused. I take off my now useless saw. Pick up a couple of cans of beets from the cottage kitchen. I walk down the hill and find a red firebird with the keys in it. As I sit down a piece of paper materlizes out of thin air. It reads. This is dwight from the future, beware of Jim | 2020-09-13T18:06:51 | 2020-09-13T16:14:49 | 473 | 81 |
[WP] You were born with the ability to stop time, but only temporarily. You can stop time for as five seconds. One day, at 33 years old, you stop time. As you move through your crowded office, you notice one of your coworkers's fingers twitch. | For years, I thought my talent was useless. What good were five seconds in the grand scheme of time?
Everything changed that day.
It was my birthday. I was turning 33, and yet I felt older, mostly because I *was* older. To my tally, I had halted everything 6,307,199 times—five seconds short of one year.
I walked into my small but crowded office, breezed past the collection of tables, and took a seat at my desk. Pulling up my email, I noticed I had a message: My coworkers were to throw me a birthday party.
I was not in the mood. I didn’t consider myself worthy of their praise because for the first time in my life, I felt like a liar. Among other things, I had used my ability countless times to alter a small event, steal a slice of pizza from a street vendor, or exit a party unseen. To me and for me, there were no consequences. Nobody would ever know, and nobody would ever care.
The first two hours of the day flew by, almost as if the paradoxical nature of my birthday was not lost on Father Time. I wasn’t able to accomplish anything that morning because seemingly before I could blink, it was time for the party.
We all stood in a clump near the back wall, where my coworkers had set up a birthday potluck: Quiches, cookies, fruit, vegetables, and all manner of other food options littered the tabletop.
One of my coworkers, Karen—of course it was Karen—suggested that we play a game. Starting with her, we went around the room identifying our mundane super powers.
“The stipulations are,” began Karen, “your power cannot have the express purpose of harming anyone, and it cannot pass a five on the power index.”
We all looked around, confused at the term “power index.” Still, we shrugged it off and played along. None of us wanted to work anyway. It was a welcome distraction for everybody.
Everybody except me.
The baton was passed several times until it came to me. “I would be able to freeze time, but only for five seconds at a time." My proclamation was met with a few laughs and a few excited outbursts.
"Ooh I like that!" said Karen, almost yelling
*Of course you like it, Karen.*
As the attention of the room passed from me, I noticed Frank at his desk with his eyes fixed on his computer. Frank and I had spoken a lot in the weeks leading up to my birthday. He was having marital troubles, almost always made worse when he said something he didn't mean.
Selfishly, I compared his difficulties with my own. As I looked across the space, I thought that perhaps he was the only other miserable person present.
I traversed the disorganized landscape of desks, computers, and unkempt paper stacks to speak with him. As I drew closer, I noticed a single tear fall from his left eye. He typed for a few seconds, then placed his hand on the mouse.
I needed to see.
I took a deep breath as I stopped time for the 6,307,200th time, officially making the day my double birthday. Once things fell into the all-too-familiar silence, I rushed to Frank's side to read the message.
*I don't think I can do this anymore*, it read. *You deserve better than me.*
In our talking, I had gotten to know Frank. I knew he loved his wife more than anything. If he was ending things, it truly was due to words in the second sentence.
"Oh no, Frank," I said, reaching my arms over his shoulders, "you don't want to do that." I quickly changed the message to read, *I know things are difficult, but I love you more than anything, and that will never change.*
As I finished typing, I thought I saw his finger twitch. Paying it no mind, I put some distance between us before time resumed. As the party got back into full swing, Frank's finger hit the send button.
Five minutes before 5:00, Frank approached my desk. "Hey," he said, "I just wanted to thank you for earlier. You were right, I didn't want to do that."
"What?" I said, dropping my pen and staring up at him. "What do you mean?"
"You leaned over me and changed my email," he clarified. "I really appreciate it." With a smile and a tip of his hat, Frank started toward the door.
I was confused. Had I not actually stopped time? Were my powers gone?
I paused things again. Everyone froze except for Frank. He continued out the door.
I couldn't help but grin. I felt as though somehow, I had given Frank the strength to carry on regardless of what was happening around him. For the first time, I had used my power for someone else, and it felt *incredible.* I vowed that going forward, I would help someone two times for every occasion I helped myself.
***One Year Later***
"Okay everybody," said Karen with a beaming smile, "we played last year and it was a blast, so let's do it again! You know the rules!"
"I'll go first!" I called out with a smile. "I would still choose the ability to freeze time for five seconds at a time."
"Why five seconds?" Bob wondered aloud from across the circle.
"Well," I said, placing a hand on Frank's shoulder beside me, "five seconds may not seem like much, but it's enough time to do a lot of things. You can prevent a single mistake, get a head start on something, and even save a life." I smiled. "You can help yourself and others in just five seconds."
\-----
Thank you for reading! As always, feedback is appreciated.
Check out my sub for more of my writing! r/storiesbyclayton |
# Moment of Pause
He glanced up when I walked by and looked startled.
His finger moved as well, that’s how I noticed. Five seconds is such a short time. There’s three-thousand six-hundred seconds in an hour. The effort to pause time was a monumental effort, akin to flexing every muscle in your gut at once. But I could do it and I thought that made me special. But here he moved too, in a sea of frozen individuals caught in main-line physics.
Time flowed once more but he already rose up to meet me.
“I was just taking a break,” he said. “I have the time to do it.”
The fact I was his supervisor may be making him ask questions. I had my own.
“How did you move around?” I asked.
He raised an eyebrow. Tried to make sense of the question as if he swirled a cherry on his tongue. Looking up in concentration.
“I have no idea what you mean,” he said.
He probably wouldn’t: I didn’t know until I was eight the specific movements to pause time. It may be innate in humanity, or maybe it’s only the both of us. But that idea of no longer sharing my paused time with others made me wonder: Did I pause it for others when I did the specific stretch? Is it only a world that we could access? What is this realm that we reached into, where everyone is a marbled statue and us merely the gallery observers? I never thought about it before, because it was merely paused time to me. But it seems something so much more, so much more profound, if I have to share it with another individual. Or individuals.
“What were you doing a few seconds before everyone else stopped moving?” I asked.
Again he looked at me. This time he hummed something to himself, as if that got the gears moving as he dived into the world of “deep” thought.
“I was only in here the whole time,” he said. “But I did some weird stretch if that’s what you’re asking. Are y’all playing some sort of game?”
I noticed the traffic of others walking in the hall avoiding me. I don’t blame them; the previous person in this position believed in the seagull approach: where one would fly in at the worst possible time, make as much noise as possible, and leave unhelpful droppings everywhere.
“Do that stretch again,” I said.
“Well,” he said, “it kind of hurt, though. Like my guts were being smooshed by my muscles. Why do it again?”
“I want to see it,” I said.
“Why?”
“Just do it,” I said.
So he did. The noise and the color fading happened.
Five seconds.
“Try typing something,” I said.
He turned to his computer.
Four seconds.
Clacking away he went. He threw his hands up in a moment.
Three seconds.
“What gives?” he said. “It’s frozen.”
Two seconds.
“It’s because you stopped time,” I said.
One second.
“The hell are you talking about sir?” he said.
Time flowed again.
“Ugh,” he said, “My guts hurt.”
“It happens when you stop time,” I said. “It’s a bit painful, but you can manage.”
“Do I want to,” he asked.
Linda hopped down the hallway, the young fawn of a worker she was. If only I had that energy again. I had all the time in the world to get it. Maybe I could actually convince him this time, I think.
“Do that stretch one more time. Look at everyone in the halls.”
“I need to get back to work,” he said. “I’m getting tired of all these painful stretches.”
“I’ll give you a raise,” I said.
“That’s stupid and you know it. But I won’t not take free money.”
He did the stretch. I can’t say what it is exactly, because I don’t wish for you to hurt and for other reasons.
The colors inverted around my eyes, then faded. The sound of a void erupted all around me, scratching my eardrums. Ticking of the world, which I believe was everything moving at once, ticked to a stop.
Five seconds.
“Now look at Linda!” I pointed down the hall to one of our coworkers.
Four seconds.
He looked.
“That looks impossible,” he said.
She was skipping and holding a stack of printing papers.
Three seconds.
“You paused time,” I said.
“No fucking way,” he said. He clapped his hands.
Two seconds.
“Is this why my computer freezes up sometimes?” he asked.
“Yep,” I said.
One second.
“Eh,” he says. “It’s boring now.”
Time flowed once more.
The paper that fell off the stack floated to the ground. The ticking sped up to an innumerable pace and the void noise reversed.
“And that explains why I hear that weird-ass noise sometimes!” he continued. “So how do I opt out?”
Now it was my turn to make funny faces at him.
“Opt out? I don’t know. I use it to get things done around here all the time.”
“Well,” he said, “Now you stretch.”
So I did the stretch and time paused.
“You see this?” he said. “What if I don’t want time paused? What if I’m driving and then time pauses? I don’t know why this hasn’t happened to me before, but it’d happen now. I can get hurt, someone else hurt, yadayada. I want out of time stopping.”
Time flowed again. My guts ached.
“And doing it hurts your guts, right?” He inquisitioned me with his tilted stare. “How often do you do it?”
“Rarely?” I said.
“You made me do it three times in a row. If *you* don’t even do it that often as I did, how would you think you’d feel?”
“Right,” I said.
“I hope whenever you find someone else that knows this, you don’t tell them the truth,” he said. “I’d rather just think there was something wrong with my computer, that I had some sort of epiphany, than having to freeze time.”
He smiled.
“Now about that raise…” | 2020-09-22T05:40:56 | 2020-09-22T05:35:22 | 98 | 31 |
[WP] Dear diary, I’ve been feeding this creature that fell from the sky for a few days. It strangely likes to drink water, the liquid we use to fuel cars. I noticed a patch on its suit today that read “NASA”. I’ll ask it tomorrow what that means. If that’s it’s name. | This creature was strange, laying on the ground after it dragged itself from its ship. I hesitantly crept forward, laying flat on my stomach and dragging myself with my arms, just like it was. Maybe it was a sign of submission, a greeting? But when I saw a red trail behind it and sniffed what it was, I could taste the sharp and metallic essence at the back of my throat. It made my stomach heave, and my gills flared with alarm. This creature was hurt, and its life force was leaking from a crack in its stomach.
I was much larger than this creature, it seemed. It was nearly half my size. It had no tail, no gills, no wings or feathers. It was small and frail, weak. It looked malnourished as well. So I did what I could and picked it up in my arms. Spreading my wings, I took flight and brought the strange thing to the healer of our tribe. When I landed, every one of my tribemate’s eyes were on it. One flattened their ears and bared their fangs. Their tail lashed and gills flared aggressively. “What is it? Will it hurt us?”
I was unsure, but I still felt bad. “Have you no sympathy G’norak?” I roared back. “Move before it leaks too much.” I brought the leaking creature to the Hometree, and to the healer’s hollow. The shaman walked over and began to help it, like it would help us. But this creature seemed to be much more fragile. The shaman looked inside the transparent exoskeleton.
“That is not it’s head,” She realized. Gently removing the cracked exoskeleton, she realized that this creature was wearing clothes, and this white crackling substance was not its skin. There was runes on its exoskeleton clothes that read NASA.
“K’laki,” I said, pointing at the runes, “I think it is called Nasa. A strange name,” I tilted my head to the side. “But a pretty one.”
Over the next few Suncycles, this creature and I spent much time together. At first it huddled in the corner of my hollow in the Hometree, its eyes wide. It hissed strange language at me, and balled its fists together. It had claws, but they were blunt and not good for defense. Though, it did try to bite me once. Eventually though I learned, if I purred, it liked that. When I purred and reached out one hand after sheathing my claws, the creature was more friendly. It bared its teeth, but in a good way.
I learned that Nasa very much liked water, like we did! But it could not breathe it or swim as well as us. It didn’t have gills. I also saw that it didn’t like the high branches of the Hometree, and would wail when it got too frightened. It did not have wings, so I could see its distress. I would retrieve it and fly it somewhere safe. I have learned that Nasa also likes to eat many things, mainly the Waterfood and Plantfood.
Nasa did not say its name was something other than Nasa, but it made a chuffing sound that looked as if it was finding humor in the name. Sometimes it would make those funny sounds. But at the end of a Suncycle, when it was dark, Nasa would look up at the sky and make a terrible howling sound. Water came out of its eyes, and it would ball up helplessly. I was unsure what to do. I purred, and that seemed to make Nasa calm again. But one dark hour, I wrapped my wings around it. It made the howling again, but it huddled closer to me. Seeking emotional support, perhaps? I cradled it, and Nasa fell asleep soon after.
Nasa had never gone home. It has been hundreds of Suncycles, and it seemed to give up trying to repair it’s arrival pod. Nasa eventually became happier here with us, and began to learn our language. Today it said, “Good Suncycle,” When it awakened. It has leadned the words, “Water,” “Hungry,” “Sleep,” and “Happy.” It is still learning to pronounce, “Sad,” and “Angry.” It very much likes the word, “No.”
Nasa has become our friend in the village, and has even started hunting with us. It cannot fly, but likes riding on my back. Nasa can hold its breath in water, but I must watch closely and protect it. Eventually, even G’norak accepted Nasa as part of our tribe. Nasa seems happy, and that makes me happy. It still looks at the sky, and I think Nasa wants to go home, but also likes it here with us. Maybe one day more Nasa’s will arrive and bring it back home. But for now, I will keep Nasa safe under my wings. | On the third suncycle, NASA finally moved, and I wasn’t there to witness it. This is still one of my biggest regrets; maybe I would have been so excited as to contact it right there and then. Maybe not, but I can’t help thinking about the consequences; what if I had tried to talk to it then? Could all this have been prevented?
I wasn’t there, no, I had been watching it intently for three beats beforehand, walking up and down in my resting room, too moved to think properly. Finally, as I thought about which code to try first, it occurred to me that I did not have the proper communication plates with me, and so I went off to the lab. When I returned, it laid there, hunched over in a corner. NASA hadn’t moved very far, but still!
I watched what had happened on the Light Thread I had installed on the ceiling. And, to my utmost surprise, it had actually eaten - but not from one of the many food plates, but from its own waste bowl! My heart began to flutter with excitement. A self-regulated organism, perhaps! But fueled by water? That seemed rather primitive. I was itching, ready to actually attempt communication, but the quarantine had to be upheld; I had only entered its chamber decontaminated and protected with a layer of dust, to supply a large amount of different minerals and other foods, and to collect its waste products.
I had to consult with my superiors immediately. And so I left it, albeit reluctantly, to its own devices.
Regret fills me still when I think about the next beats. Many conversations were had, ranging from just two or three other scientists to large groups, singing in dissonance, arguing over the proceedings. And in the end, we trusted The Old One, as was customary back then.
The quarantine was extended. The Old One brought forward reasonable concerns; what if anything of our environment was harmful to the creature? It was best to leave it alone and observe for now.
Arrangements were made, more water was brought in, in case it wasn’t able to sustain itself. We always went in and out quickly, whenever NASA closed its eyes during its inactivity phase. NASA never moved during our brief visits that suncycle, but it could be observed to consume water a few times the following beats.
I don’t like thinking about what follows, and you can all imagine why I haven’t sung about it until today. But I have to accept the responsibility for the events, or I cannot leave this world in peace and harmony.
Nothing much happened with the creature. Its movement was about as fast as that of a Middleager, slow compared to our Young Ones, a bit faster than me. But it didn’t become more inactive, and we left it to recover from its skyfall while we thought and sung about a code to use; we named it NASA, since that was the code on its outer coat.
Before the beginning of the sixteenth suncycle, I was left alone to watch the light thread, and I saw NASA signal something. It held one of its arms up to its mouth, as it did when comsuming its water (the thought still repulses me to this day. Water? How could it stand the smell?). The gesture was faster, seemed more intense and urgent than all it had done up to that point, and in that moment, I decided to go against The Old One’s judgement. I coated myself thickly in dust, twice the recommended amount to be safe, and entered its chamber, two knowledge plates in hand.
Some red water had leaked from its extremity, where its mouth had touched it – was this an injury? Did its flesh also contain water? Or just another waste product? When I entered, its head rose quickly, and it sat up.
“Do you need assistance?”, I sang, while pointing to one of the water bowls; it was almost empty. Did it need more?
The creature pulled at its skin and then gestured to its mouth erratically, and I jumped back, startled. But I was trained for this very moment since I was a young one. I held up one of my communication plates, where I had also drawn the name NASA - but I had coated myself too thickly. In that moment, a big chunk of dust broke from the skin around my arm, revealing the purple flesh beneath.
It’s hard to describe the next events. NASA looked at me for a few moments, and then with a speed I could not have thought possible, sprung forward and tore off my entire arm. I cried out in pain and collapsed to the ground, as the creature began devouring it, faster than anything I have witnessed since, with water exiting its eyes rapidly.
The stench and the pain blurred my sight, and the last thing I remember is seeing it loom over me, standing there, then running off through the door.
I don’t need to tell you what happened next. I still don’t know why it spared me, and what made it collapse after taking so many of our lives. But I will recall the bloated, pink body in the town square, surrounded by corpses, the smell of water and our flesh and, finally, its shrill cries when we managed to bury it in sand. Never before have we had to bury someone before their time, and a few Young Ones now suggest that this was a sin- but let me warn you, that creature was not of this world, and if it came from another, then maybe it was for the best that it died then and there, before bringing more of its kind. | 2020-10-11T15:32:04 | 2020-10-11T11:09:37 | 31 | 13 |
[WP] At 4,294,967,296 Kelvin the display flipped to 0 and the test reactor's plasma suddenly froze in place. The reactor containment system creaked as the pressure instantly dropped to zero. The scientist calmly spoke, "Absolute hot confirmed, 32-bit overflow confirmed, world simulation confirmed. | Charles stared lazily at his terminal. He recalled his wife had reminded him to stop at the post office on lunch. He didn’t mind, that takes him by his favorite sandwich shop. He chewed on a pen top as his eyes wandered over his cubicle wall. Marta was absent again on a Monday. She’s not gonna last long.
A small notification slid into the corner of his display.
`Error 4221: Simulation G5-V113 — deviation beyond recovery...`
His mouse took it’s time to wander over and click the pop up. A window appeared detailing the failed node. An advertising campaign swarm. Makeup advertising focus group. 1200 simulations.
“Temperature bounds exceeded, wow...”
He screenshotted the overview and pasted it into a work chat channel for interesting simulation failures, then tabbed back to terminate the node.
A yellow warning appeared.
`Replacement node will not complete campaign before deadline. `
“Oh well” he though.
The eyeliner ad will have to do with 1199 simulations. | I've always been interested in fringe science, ever since I made my first volcano for a science fair as a kid. It quickly turned to computer science during my teen years - I was programming everything from goofy pokemon clones to trying to hack my ISP. Sticklers.
Now? I work 72 hour weeks as a sheriff's deputy in Weston County, Wyoming, mainly driving around aimlessly because I'm one of 5 on the department when we are supposed to have 8.
I still can revel in my long-gone childhood by using the hour between when I clock off and when I've lost the staring contest to the ceiling with old and little-published papers.
This one was particularly interesting. It read almost like a joke, and cited nearly no sources. There was no documented evidence on the paper, either. I suppose this isn't terribly unusual for minor papers with big claims.
At the very least, it made sense to me. I always preferred to think there was the peace of non existence after death rather than the hundreds of afterlife theories. I can't imagine who, or rather whatever built the background process we are wasting power in would be stuck in 32-bit hell, unless just like earth, their world also revolves around outdated software deemed "too expensive to replace".
Maybe the paper should stay at my 174th view forever; I'd hate to lose sleep over someone starting an apocalypse when there's so much more to explore in our own little slice of paradise. | 2020-11-11T21:20:28 | 2020-11-11T19:40:34 | 93 | 60 |
[WP] You're pretty sure your boyfriend was replaced by an eldritch being that can barely emulate being human. Weirdly, you enjoy a better relationship with them then your actual boyfriend. | A bit rough. but here.
It'd been just four weeks.
I held his hand. His blue eyes, looking deeper into mine. Like glaciers, ice cold, they were somehow warmer than before. One eye flicked to the right, eyeing a nearby bird on the branch. My hand squeezed tighter and they both focused on me. The man walking past us didn't break stride. Good.
It'd been just four weeks. Four weeks of life being better.
He opened the door to the house and smiled at me. My heartbeat pulsed, his smile he gave me now was so genuine, so kind. His hand held a broken bird to me, I shook my head and he turned away a moment. The bird was gone. It wasn't like the other birds.
It'd been just four weeks. Nothing hurt now.
I didn't wear makeup today. I didn't need concealer or eyeshadow or anything now. I didn't need to hide. I smiled at him. He smiled back gently. He didn't really talk much, beyond those first few words. I wonder if he ever would.
It'd been just four weeks. Four weeks since my life had changed for the better.
I sat on the lounge and looked at the TV. It was static, he'd been watching it for nearly an hour. I whispered in his ear and showed him how to turn it onto a channel. he smiled at me. His pupils static like the TV had been. I didn't mind.
It's been just four weeks. I sleep better now than I have in over a year.
I woke. he was there, looking out the window. Just like he liked to do. A bird in the distance crowed. It was well too early for morning light to show anything my mere eyes could see. It was okay, I went back to sleep.
It's been just four weeks. I don't need to run, but I can.
I hadn't even been to a park run for years, my side ached as I bent over and gasped for breat. I hadn't had the strength to run, but now I did. He slowed down as he passed me again. This time coming to a stop. The motorbike rider's head turned as he drove by but I stared back until their attention returned to the road.
It'd been just four weeks. Four weeks since he left me. Since he arrived.
His brown eyes sneered at me. My tears had been flowing. The bruises covered my arm under his hand as he snarled and held me against the cave wall, my feet slipping in the circle of blood from his last. My makeup smeared as I realised I was really going to die here. Sacrificed by my boyfriend of four years, after all the words, the fights, the abuse, this was how it was going to end.
The bonfire raged, purple and blue flames 12 feet tall. Blue Eyes from beyond looked through the tongues of light.
"NOT HER."
The inhuman sound echoed in the chamber. The blood that pooled at my feet from his best friend quivered and wriggled like a live thing before creeping up his legs.
"You" he whispered from the flames.
It's been just four weeks. | **EXT. MALL - DAY**
JAKE: OH EM GEE, Micheal, I haven't seen you in so long – how are you? What are you doing in this mall?
MIKE: Jake! Hey! Doing really well actually. I'm just here looking for a few things before our trip
JAKE: A trip? Who is “our”? Are you still with Brian?
MIKE: Yeah
JAKE: Its been like year by now, hasn't it?
MIKE: Almost – like a year and a half?
JAKE: It must be going well if you're going on a trip together.
MIKE: Yeah, we went through a rough patch a few months ago, but things have gotten really good lately. I'm not entirely sure what happened, but its almost like he’s a completely different person.
JAKE: In a good way?
MIKE: Yeah, mostly. Are you still with Matt?
JAKE: Naw, we broke up a few weeks ago
MIKE: Oh, I'm sorry
JAKE: Don’t be – he was a cheating jerk. Fucker.
MIKE: Yeah, been there – that sucks
JAKE: Totally. *(beat)* So where are you guys going?
MIKE: San Francisco
JAKE: Just to get out of town?
MIKE: Well, kind of. We need to get out of the house. Recently, his house started smelling of sulpher – its been driving me kinda nuts - and we can’t seem to figure out what the cause is.
JAKE: You guys live together?
MIKE: Yeah, a few weeks ago. Brian said that he wanted me under his dominion. He kind of just got all dominant all of a sudden. It's kinda hot.
*They laugh.*
MIKE: *(CONT’D)* Also we just wanted to do something different. I mean the sex has suddenly gotten amazing, *(leans in to whisper)* i mean, like *hentai* good.
MIKE: *(CONT’D)* We still want to mix it up, though, you know? He has been doing a lot of talking about enslaving people so we’re heading to San Francisco for the Folsum Street Fair…
JAKE: That's the leather S&M thing, right?
MIKE: Yeah. Its not my thing, but I’ll give it a shot...
JAKE: Wow, that's brave. I hope you have a good time.
MIKE: Thanks. *(beat)* What about you? I know you broke up with Matt but are you seeing anyone else now?
JAKE: No, everything is still kinda fresh, ya know
MIKE: Yeah, I get that. (pause) the reason I ask is because Brian has a friend that he keeps asking me to set up with one of my friends!
JAKE: Oh – whats his name
MIKE: Yog-Sothoth
JAKE: What kind of name is that?
MIKE: Brian says that it’s Babylonian?
JAKE: *(considering)* Middle-eastern guys are hot.
MIKE: *(leans in)* Brian says he’s a dom top, so I thought maybe you’d be up for it
JAKE: Let me think on it.
MIKE: Yeah, of course - no pressure
JAKE: You still have my number, right?
MIKE: Yeah
JAKE: Text me his number – I mean, you gotta get back on the horse at some point, right?
MIKE: Definitely. (leans in again) Brian says that he’s really “big” so..*.(holds a space between his hands)*
*They both laugh.*
JAKE: Well, hey, I gotta run. It was good seeing you!
MIKE: Yeah, you too!
JAKE: Text me!
MIKE: Yeah, you too!
JAKE: Alright..see ya! Stay out of trouble!
MIKE: *(laughs)* Why start now? Talk to you later, Jake! | 2021-12-05T01:38:13 | 2021-12-04T21:14:33 | 177 | 115 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | "One Earthling, diplomat. How can you justify this madness on account of one sole Earthling?"
The human stretched its angular limbs and considered the battlefield. Outside the star vessel lay our fleet. In ruins. I could see soldiers floating in the void of space, frozen solid as rock, all with the same expression on their faces: pure horror.
"Don't say we didn't warn you, Xehemultran."
Humans had domesticated themselves, turned themselves into pets; it was common knowledge. That was why they did not want to participate in galactic conflicts, that was why they were considered the ultimate neutral species. Diplomacy and trifles, words and empty gestures. Everyone knew humans did not fight. So how could this have happened?
"This is sheer insanity. You have murdered billions. You have eradicated entire civilizations."
"Yup." The human fidgeted with a finger inside its mouth, cleaning out some gunk.
"All of this for Bella? Do you consider this destruction to be worth it?"
"Oh, absolutely."
I shook my heads. "She was not even a *human*."
"Correct," said the Earthling. He pointed his weapon at me. "She was a *cat*." Expressionless, the human pulled the trigger. | We thought that we knew what we were doing. They had barely made it to their own moon before we had arrived and we had an armada. The had nuclear weapons and we laughed as we ate their bombs, inhaling the radiation like they did with helium. When we arrived they had greeted us like gods, crowds of worshipers and cameras. They had their army ready but they certainly didn’t look special.
We had laser guns that could leave nothing but red and green bones behind, they still used gunpowder. So we shot a birdie that apparently had ment peace, a laughable concept, and slaughtered the gathering. And even after that they had tried to negotiate peace!
To give credit where it’s due, it was impressive to see them build a translator for our language that has so many subtleties in both pitch and tone. But still it was amusing to destroy their monuments and to see them flee as we had our way with their world.
We didn’t realize however, the power of voice. Humans are capable of reaching pitches so high that they can shatter glass and even the resonant frequency of our brains. When this was discovered we swiftly found ourselves on the back foot.
No Martian left on that rock was given quarter and even now they reverse engineer our ships and hunt us down. All the while they play that hunting song known as yodeling. I hear them now faintly through the door, the music would be beautiful if I didn’t feel my brain ripple even from here. So I leave this in memory of my species, should the humans see this know I hate you and that we should have blown up your planet when we had the chance. Should others see this I leave you some parting words: ACK ACKACK ACk ACK ACK!!! | 2022-08-05T12:27:50 | 2022-08-05T12:01:10 | 457 | 190 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | "Emperor, High Chancellor of Earth on Luma link to you", an advisor notified Emperor Gaumph.
"Link up." The emperor replied.
Holo visage of an elderly human sitting behind a desk materialized in the middle of the throne room.
"I presume this is about your mutual defense treaty with Lakilla?" The emperor asked the apparition.
"Yes. You shall withdraw all your forces immediately, or there will be dire consequences."
The emperor laughed. "Two puny defenseless races without so much as an army in a mutual defense treaty. What a joke. What are you going to do? Establish embargo on Coca-Cola? It's a popular drink among our people but our supplies will last until Earth is conquered and we'll have it without tariffs."
"We will destroy your cities, stations, colonies and capital ships one by one, until you surrender or until your successor surrenders."
"You and what army?"
"I think you're not treating our threat seriously, so let me demonstrate our capacity." High Counsellor tapped something on the desk in front of him. Surely a map in holo; you can't visualize a holo in another holo so it wasn't visible.
One of advisors sprung to alert. "Emperor, I just got a report, Acordia just exploded."
"The capital ship?! How?! Raise shields on all ships and planets now!"
"The signature is antimatter, about a kilogram worth of antimatter annihilated, the ship was literally wiped out!"
"Ah, so a hyperspace torpedo. They caught us unaware, but now with shields up they can fire away. Every object of importance is protected."
Chancellor tapped some other spot. Another advisor jumped up. "Emperor, the army colony of Maruja is gone!"
"Did they fail to raise the shield?"
"No, Emperor! The shield is still up, and filled with inferno left after an anti-matter explosion!"
"Attack! Send the armada to Earth! Destroy them before they destroy more of our resources!"
The chancellor shook his head. "I was afraid it would come to this. Let us hope your second-in-command is more reasonable." He tapped a spot on his desk.
A Coca-Cola dispenser machine in the lobby of the Imperial Palace made a quiet *ding*. Then the palace and the emperor ceased to exist in an antimatter explosion. | "We all know they're weaklings, Commander Smith," The soldier said, saluting Commander Smith, "I mean, come on, they don't know how to fire gamma-rays. In fact, they haven't built any spaceships yet."
"That's enough, Soldier 92-BII," said Commander Smith, "We're headed to their planet. The news spread that it colonized all of their star system after finishing the completion of Pluto a
'dwarf planet'. What a strange term." Commander Smith walked through the hallway.
Soldier 92-BII looked out the window. The spherical object he saw had a red and gray surface, with a layer of nitrogen shaped as a heart. Nearby was another gray object, but one of it's poles was orange. "How fascinating. It seems yellow dwarves have the strongest gravity of all the stars." Soldier 92 said.
A few minutes later, they had an encounter with a giant, dark blue orb with a relatively large moon. The ship steered towards the moon and eventually landed.
Various soldiers began walking onto the surface of the alien world that was being controlled by humans. Amongst hushed tones, Soldier 92 learned that the name of the moon was 'Triton' and the planet it was orbiting was named 'Neptune'. "This is a true alien world." Soldier 92 said before realizing that Triton was his stop, so he scurried off.
Looking around the icy world were giant structures made of metal and glass, rising high into the night sky. Some were connected. Humans could be seen walking amongst the city on the alien world, thriving. However, the peace ended, disturbed by a scream. Soldier 92 ran over to the source of the scream. Another soldier, Soldier 98-7BG, had stabbed a human in the chest. "What?!" Soldier 92 grunted angrily when he was tackled by a human, who was furious.
"KILL THE ALIENS!" Someone said over an intercom.
Total war had started. To 92's surprise, the human he was dueling was incredibly strong. Several of his allies' bodies began crashing onto the ground of Triton.
Suddenly, a flicker of silver light. Humans left and right fell to the ground, their weapons disappearing. It was Commander Smith. "92, what happened? Why did this start?"
"W-well, uh, 98 decided to stab a human, and apparently that made the rest of them mad, so then they started dueling us. To my surprise, they were holding their own. We have several fatalities, including 98." explained 92, gesturing to the corpses of his allies.
"This is going to be one of many, I can just feel it." | 2022-08-05T13:02:15 | 2022-08-05T10:57:14 | 163 | 107 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | "Emperor, High Chancellor of Earth on Luma link to you", an advisor notified Emperor Gaumph.
"Link up." The emperor replied.
Holo visage of an elderly human sitting behind a desk materialized in the middle of the throne room.
"I presume this is about your mutual defense treaty with Lakilla?" The emperor asked the apparition.
"Yes. You shall withdraw all your forces immediately, or there will be dire consequences."
The emperor laughed. "Two puny defenseless races without so much as an army in a mutual defense treaty. What a joke. What are you going to do? Establish embargo on Coca-Cola? It's a popular drink among our people but our supplies will last until Earth is conquered and we'll have it without tariffs."
"We will destroy your cities, stations, colonies and capital ships one by one, until you surrender or until your successor surrenders."
"You and what army?"
"I think you're not treating our threat seriously, so let me demonstrate our capacity." High Counsellor tapped something on the desk in front of him. Surely a map in holo; you can't visualize a holo in another holo so it wasn't visible.
One of advisors sprung to alert. "Emperor, I just got a report, Acordia just exploded."
"The capital ship?! How?! Raise shields on all ships and planets now!"
"The signature is antimatter, about a kilogram worth of antimatter annihilated, the ship was literally wiped out!"
"Ah, so a hyperspace torpedo. They caught us unaware, but now with shields up they can fire away. Every object of importance is protected."
Chancellor tapped some other spot. Another advisor jumped up. "Emperor, the army colony of Maruja is gone!"
"Did they fail to raise the shield?"
"No, Emperor! The shield is still up, and filled with inferno left after an anti-matter explosion!"
"Attack! Send the armada to Earth! Destroy them before they destroy more of our resources!"
The chancellor shook his head. "I was afraid it would come to this. Let us hope your second-in-command is more reasonable." He tapped a spot on his desk.
A Coca-Cola dispenser machine in the lobby of the Imperial Palace made a quiet *ding*. Then the palace and the emperor ceased to exist in an antimatter explosion. | When the human race first entered our star systems, we thought they were laughable. They came to “explore” and “settle”, but they appeared very poorly equipped and naïve to be doing such things. Of course, they were not the first race we’ve seen with colonizing of any sort on the mind; our people have dabbled with that ourselves, at least when necessary to get resources to persist.
At first we played their game. Showed them some territories they could stay in, gave them some pointers, and then promptly tried to ignore them.
However, they were unsatisfied. They wanted to continue growing and expanding. Predictably enough, of course. When they threw their little fit, we threatened them with our superior weapons and technology, and they calmed down… or rather, changed their tune. They had no intention to FIGHT for any land, but they were more than willing to BARTER for it somehow. It would go on like this, the humans growing, us socializing and trying not to satisfy their little diplomatic egoes too much, making as many compromises as we could. But enough was never enough for them. Never for too long.
However, for us, enough was indeed enough. We put our foot down when they got too needy, and told them to either leave completely or die. Their response…
…was to devastate us all. Using strange molecular bonding units, they took their lesser ships and weapons and smashed them together into much stronger units, an unforeseen tactic. They did this with individuals too, making on-land planetary warfare even harder on us. We had to retreat, and they took *everything*.
They went on like this, from system to system. Even with everything our societies could throw at them, even when they were outnumbered and outpowered, their tactics and techniques and that blasted unification technology decimated everything in their path. All seemed lost for our way of life… except for one thing that we had that they did not:
Through tachyon engines, one could move faster than light. What had not been explored yet by any of us had been the next step of that: travel through time.
Yes, with what resources we had left, us survivors formed a war party with one goal: go to the past and crush those humans before they have the chance to do any of this. Punish those heartless, egotistical monsters for what they did to us. Preemptively take back everything they would steal.
We have talked enough with them to know about their ways, their history. We know of a planet called Earth where they originated. We know exactly where and when in history to show up.
This is a one way trip. We are willing to take it.
The human race won’t know what hit them. | 2022-08-05T13:02:15 | 2022-08-05T12:43:01 | 163 | 63 |
[WP] “…and that class is why Humans are considered the most peaceful species in the universe.” The only three humans in class looked at each other horrified. All the facts about humans that the aliens had were wrong. One student slowly raises their hand. | "Yes? You at the back?"
"I'm afraid you're entirely wrong, sir."
"Student! Do you cast doubts upon the incredible research of the recent expedition to Earth?"
"Yes, sir, I do. See, I am human myself, and therefore I am in a position to know that much of what you have presented is factually incorrect."
"If you are going to impugn the research abilities of my crew, I suppose it is better to do so specifically. Go ahead."
"To begin with, sir, it is false that humans have never had a war. We have had several throughout our history; indeed, there are three ongoing as we speak."
"Ah, yes. The researchers made a note here. Class, please take note that humans would consider a 'food fight' to be a war if it gets large enough."
"What? No - some of those included nuclear weapons!"
"Bear in mind, class, that the only 'nuclear weapons' that humanity have access to are microwaves, which are used to 'nuke' foodstuffs before fighting."
"And thousands of people slain!"
"Bear in mind, class, that a human can be considered to have been 'slain' by a particularly well-worded insult. The human remains quite healthy afterwards."
"Not that sort of slain!" | The teacher was hesitant to call out to the student that raised his hand, but seeing as the whole class stared at the human that raised his hand the teacher realised that it wouldn't be possible to ignore him. "Y-yes, mister Thomson?" the teacher finally said. Thomson spoke slowly, carfully choosing his words. "When you started this lecture with the notion that humans were considered one of the most peaceful races in the galaxy. This is because, knowing what the human species has done in it's past, the notion that most other species are more violent, corrupt and twisted is horrifying. Thankfully, it seems that the facts here are wrong." The teacher was shocked and sat down and after a long pause finally asked "How so?" Thompson contemplated for a bit before talking again "Well, for starters, the statement that humans had just one big conflict is wrong. Even discounting the ones that happened on Earth, our planet of origin and not Pla-0783 another fact that you got wrong, we have had more than a dozen. Humans have almost driven themselves to extinction more times than any other species here conbined if I go with the data that is publicly available."
A student in the back carefully asked "Wh-what happened to Earth?" Another human named Chelsie answered "Well... there were... many reasons, but the short of it is that humanity has been slowly draining the planet of it resources, polluted which devastated the climate enough to wipe out humanity on it's own. And if that wasn't enough, a big war broke out to accelerate the process even more. In just three years, the Earth became unlivable and humanity was almost fully wiped out along with almost every other Earth species." | 2022-10-17T04:40:25 | 2022-10-17T04:10:54 | 2,063 | 103 |
[WP] “…and that class is why Humans are considered the most peaceful species in the universe.” The only three humans in class looked at each other horrified. All the facts about humans that the aliens had were wrong. One student slowly raises their hand. | "Bullshit," I grunted.
"Language, Steven!", the teacher retorted.
"No, it's bullshit. For being the so-called 'Librarian' race, you got literally everything wrong. Humans were never peaceful. We've been trying to kill each other since the dawn of time."
"Are you seriously trying to contr-"
"YES, I am. Now shut up and be quiet."
It was a narrative I'd heard a million times. About how humanity was a species of kindness and diplomacy. About how our home was a utopia. About how, even when other races succumbed to hatred, we stood strong.
We only stood strong because of sheer *luck.*
"Have you not understood why I've been so cold and aggressive towards you? Have you not understood why Sol is barred off? Earth is a wasteland, a grave. We polluted it so hard it never recovered. We've had four world wars and three interstellar wars between ourselves. War only paused because we developed terrifying weapons of mass destruction that could wipe out our entire species."
The class stood silent, in shock.
"We fired them, once. We only know the past because of an old data drive for Wikipedia we kept sacred. Even after the nukes were launched we kept trying to kill each other. It took trillions of hot-blooded peacekeepers to bring humanity together and send us to Alpha Centauri. We vowed away violence between ourselves and it put us here, and now you choose to bury our violent past."
It defines us, and can never be forgotten. The stairway to heaven is paved with blood. | “Good morning class! We’re going to learn about humans today!”
Tom froze.
The screen blinked to life, the deadly glow bathing each young face. Eyes wiggled; tentacles stood still; you couldn’t even hear the breath of wind.
Dr Moostacho blinked at the screen, and the next slide appeared.
“Humans have been around since the dawn of time, and have probably evolved from early primates, including chimpanzees and monkeys.”
The next slide showed a peaceful looking cave, surrounded by green, green grass and flowers swaying in the wind. A caveman ambled outside. He grunted.
Then he squatted down and sniffed the flowers.
“As you can see here, humans do everything they can to take care of nature. They love the world, love us, and look!”
Pictures of smiling humans appeared on the screen, of uniformed Red Cross attendees helping the poor and the sick, of fundraising efforts to feed the hungry, of people kneeling, praying for miracles that were going to happen.
“As the Galaxy Empire continues to settle down and begin a new era of peace after the Hundred-Year War, we will do well to live our lives like the humans. In fact, (and here Dr Moostacho chuckled at a fond memory he had when visiting Earth in secret) they are so peaceful that they will jump to be our friends..”
“Tom? Are you feeling all right?”
Tom was shaking, his face as pale as all the death he had seen. He still remembered, although he was still a boy of twelve, the war that shook his village, the way the soldiers stormed into his house and dragged his mother and sister by their hair back to the base screaming, chuckling about the prizes they had collected, the blood that splattered his wall and his shirt like an ugly stain, the smell of smoke in his hair as his house burned…
Tom stood up, then nearly fell over because his knees were knocking against each other. He felt sick.
“Doctor,” he said slowly. “Actually…”
r/SimbaKingdom | 2022-10-17T01:57:24 | 2022-10-16T22:05:08 | 658 | 320 |
[WP]A modern human is transported through a portal. Expecting to find a Lovecraftian horror on the other side, he instead discovers a beautiful realm where he, himself, is the horror, compared to its inhabitants. | After four decades of hard work and billions of dollars of funding, the warehouse-sized supercomputer sent a signal. Conditions were just right, and would be right for exactly one hour. Derek Powell was alerted immediately. Of the eighth generation of dimensionauts, the 34-year old former astronaut arrived at facilities exactly at midnight. The support staff began suiting the moment he entered the door, and the night shift coordinators began the brief, walking backwards as Powell approached the payload.
"The reports read that the interdimensional hole will stay stable for 43 minutes. The probe went in ten minutes ago and the conditions seem safe."
"Video feed?"
"No video feed, the fluxes holding the gate are too strong"
"Can we go in?"
"Godspeed, Dr. Powell"
Departure preparations and safety checks finished ten minutes later, by this time the facilities bustled with hundreds of support staff.
"CHECK ONE, CHECK TWO. CROSSING IN 60 SECONDS"
Powell reclined, mentally bracing himself.
"AIRLOCK EVACUATED"
He rested his eyes, it wouldn't be long now.
"PREPARE LAUNCH"
Had it been just one year later, and someone else would be in his seat.
...
Powell gripped his seat. He felt his body become heavy as the catapult shot him through. He'd done this before, but this time the reverse jets wouldn't be on Earth. Everything became quiet as the vehicle approached maximal speed.
Light filled his view, pouring through as if there were no industrial filters. Powell closed his eyes. And then he opened them.
In his training, he had been told that sensations in other dimensions would be nonsensical. They were right. Parts of his vehicle seemed to be pixellated but faint. Some chunks seemed to be cut out, but would reappear as Magic Eye silhouettes. In front of him was a bright mix of colors, textured like sand in pastel. He saw glimpses of his right hand in the peripheral vision of his left eye. This dimension smelled very pleasant, something like a fresh box of Fruit Loops - rapidly shifting and blending with the scent of a summer morning. A warm and brisk sensation engulfed his body and he could hear a sort of whispering wind pass by. As Powell shifted his ears to follow the sound, he caught glimpses of humanoids - appearing distant but near.
He bowed his head down and the perspective change created a coherent image much like an optical illusion. In this view, he could see one humanoid about his size. The humanoid waved its hands and an image of Stonehenge appeared in Powell's mind. Powell thought to send back communications to base, and as he did the humanoid creature turned inside out. The taste of bubble gum filled Powell's mouth, and now he saw a picturesque city. Everything appeared strangely two-dimensional, and what three-dimensional features existed appeared with incredibly shallow depth of field. Tiny humanoid creatures spontaneously materialized from a colored dust that moved away from Powell. The movement of the dust contradicted the sensation it gave of a cool, approaching breeze. Powell exhaled and the dust fell to pieces, he heard a waterfall-like sound above his head. Powell decided he wanted to try to stand up.
He stretched his legs, and found himself falling. The world began spinning very fast and an image of a swimming pool filled his mind. He heard a large clap. Powell was lying on his back on the concrete of the facilities, with his left foot still halfway in the portal. He was drenched in a sort of purple gel.
Powell pulled out his foot, a foot-tall silver figure came out with it. The silver figure emitted a pale glow, with the aura of finely worked jewelry with a hint of sexuality. The beautiful figure glanced at Powell and the support staff observing from the windows, then tore out its eyes before dashing its head against the floor. Its skull shattered like a Christmas ornament, splattering a purple ichor. | Rahleigh was the seventh of the day, and it wasn’t even midday yet. His predecessor had gone in wearing the latest Tzelay-tech Mark 4 power-armor, with enough destructive power to blow up a small city or two. They had received a garbled 5-second radio transmission of inhuman screaming mixed with the sound of tearing flesh before the signal cut off and the gate went silent again. The unremarkable gray-slab of concrete and steel trimming, rising up some three meters in the air, bore its official name in old-runes at its foot, engraved in an equally unremarkable brownish plaque like a welcoming mat: “Rising against the Void”. At either end of the runes the material had a polished sheen from the thousands of feet that had stood there contemplating the wisdom of their decision, before taking their final step in this realm.
Rahleigh did not bring power-armor, even if he’d had the money he was certain it would have done him no good, as the previous Tribute had just demonstrated so convincingly. His faith lay with the Seven Flowers, as it had for his entire life. Some thought that obstacles in life should be overcome, challenged, fought, destroyed if needed. The Flowers maintained that they should be loved. He placed his bare feet on the final words, momentarily surprised by the warmth of the material. Then he disrobed. He did not bring weapons, or prayers, or even clothes, because he needed none of those. The Seven Flowers were not pacifists by any stretch of the word, love could be violent at times, all-consuming. The Void, the beast-with-a-thousand-eyes, the wrecker of realms, he would show it love like only a Great-giver of the Seven Flowers could.
Rahleigh eyed the dark ripples that now only his eyes could see, as they rolled over the surface of the gate, like shadows over liquid stone. He stretched out his arm, but when his fingers vanished in the surface of the gate he could not feel any distinct sensation. Only fully committed would the gate open for him. He thought back about the Day of Revelation, when they had solved the mystery of the Void. Every Tribute came prepared the best they could, and among them had been great Generals, Dancers-of-Swords, Kings that had ruled entire galaxy’s, sentient AI's whose intelligence defied all measure, all had stepped through the gate and all had failed. From what little the gate would release about the fate of the Tributes, the consensus had grown that they had been defeated each time by the very asset they had aimed to bear against the Void. His own great-grandfather had surmised the solution. Bring nothing but love, and nothing less than love for everything. Thus the Seven Flowers had been founded.
Rahleigh was the fulcrum of three generations of cultivated and conditioned love. His love knew no boundaries and no conditions, and therefore whatever the Void was, whatever face it showed him, he would love it. And the Void could do nothing but love him back.
He stepped through the gate.
He blinked, once, twice. It felt like waking. He was in a dimly-lit room, although he could tell the walls were painted in bright cheerful colors. He slowly looked around, deeply inhaling the slightly sweet smell of the air. It felt like home, like safety. As his eyes trailed over the various object in the room, he realized it must be a child’s room, toys strewn across the floor and a small bed with racecar prints on the covers. From behind him he heard laughter, and he turned just in time to see the boy, no more than six or seven years old, run towards him through the hallway. The boy halted at the edge of the door, suddenly aware of a presence in the room, but eyes not-yet adjusted to the darkness enough to identify him. It gave Rahleigh time to observe the boy. He was beautiful, the light from the hallway catching on his ruffled brown hair, and his cheeks flushed red from running and laughing. The boys eyes held a puzzled smile, like he knew the current mystery would have pleasant unveiling, but did not know yet what it would be. Rahleigh smiled back. It had worked. He had conquered the Void.
He loved it, and the Void loved back.
He stepped forwards towards the boy as his erection hardened.
| 2014-06-09T17:09:47 | 2014-06-09T16:32:34 | 32 | 10 |
[WP] You nervously approach the beaches of Normandy on the D-Day Invasion. Before the landing craft hits the beach, you and your comrades are given a pep talk by platoon leader Zapp Brannigan. | "Alright men, listen up. As you venture forth to fight this war of the worlds, remember one thing. Remember that while I sit in my Captain's Quarters drinking my cham-pagin, I'll be out there fighting with you. Not actually fighting of course, but fighting in my mind like some sort of headache with a gun."
Many of the men groaned.
"Now I know that many of you are going to die." He pointed at one of the smaller men. "You especially. But without your sacrifice we couldn't hope to make the enemy run out of bullets. There are only so many they can have you know. And once they reach that number that's when we strike. One strike and they're out, just like baseball."
The men began looking at each other nervously.
"I have thought through every aspect of this battle that could possibly take place. Knowing our enemy, the Scottish, as well as I do, I have come up several life saving tips for all of you."
"We're not fighting the Scottish!" Several of the men yelled out.
Zapp pulled out a set of bagpipes. "Well I guess we won't be needing these." He threw them overboard. "Damn. Over 20 minutes of practice wasted. No matter, I have a backup plan. How many of you have practiced dying heroically?"
No one said anything.
He smiled. "Uh huh, well no time to learn like 5 minutes from now." Zapp pointed at the smaller soldier again. "Probably 3 minutes for you. And remember, the ladies love a hero. They also love greeting cards and velour." He felt his uniform. "Mmmmm."
The boat approached the beach. "Okay men. Get out there and give those Scottish bastards Hell." | The Higgins boat shot through the choppy, storm turned waters of the Channel with speed that none of us expected. The men, stood, mostly quiet, some praying with ghostly whispered voices, others checked their dog tags - fearing that they may never be found, each of us clutched out wrapped rifles in white knuckled hands. The fear, dripped from us like the spray from the salty waters that banged against the hull of the craft.
At the front of the boat, covered behind the landing ramp, a single man stood. His uniform baffled us to this day, blood red with gold embellishments, like some kind of bastardized British Army uniform from days gone by. Each time a blast went off, he looked back towards us, there was no way that he could have pissed himself like a few men had - that ridiculous skirt he always wore would have given himself away.
Brannigan turned to face us as we cut through another wave, the force almost knocking him back into the ramp. "Men, what we have against us - is nothing we can't handle. You've been trained well, prepared for this task, you have more num...skill...than all of the defenders on that beach. They'll be waiting up there, chewing on their sourkrout, waiting for us. They'll get us."
He paused, looking around as though he was thinking, "I don't know how many of you it will take to take this beach. However, I know how many I'm going to use. You know why?"
We stared at him dumbfounded, trying to figure out exactly where this madman was going with this speech. "Behind them, behind those defenses, lies France. Back there, beyond all of this, there are women, many women. Women who will be grateful to us for saving them. And at this end of this, I will mate with one of these women. And you will be the first to know."
Then, before the ramp could drop, he dove over the side of the landing craft. We never saw him again during the fight.
However, as we took the bluffs of Omaha Beach, nearly all of our platoon was dead, yet somehow, the first man up the bluffs in his pristine uniform, was Zap.
Prick. | 2014-09-27T14:18:36 | 2014-09-27T13:33:09 | 110 | 33 |
[WP] Humanity realizes we are nothing but a school project a kid from a super advanced civilization had to make. He failed the project and is coming to us in a tantrum...to demand answers before "cleaning up the mess". | Failure.
The word sat like a pit in the bottom of his fourth stomach. He had never failed a project before.
This one had been his most ambitious yet. A fully functional miniature society, evolved from the base organisms all the way up. A guaranteed full points score. He still didn't know exactly where it had gone wrong. Things were working up to a point and then they just... stopped.
They had just never developed true telepathy. They had reached the *verge* of true civilization and had just... stopped.
But that wasn't why he had failed. No, that would've just made the project one of the myriad of other "Oh, isn't that nice" projects that were being displayed around the room. No, the reason that he had failed was because the *stupid* half-civilized critters had somehow managed to contaminate the other projects.
Zre'ghar was still trying to clean up the corner of his red planet (he hadn't even *bothered* to try for life forms) and some jerk from class 9 was claiming he had seem them on his "Alpha Centauri" project. The teachers were using a tracker to try to figure out just how far they had gotten, but it kept throwing positive responses *everywhere*.
He held his head in his hands... how was he going to explain this to his parents. | "57 percent!" Shouted the boy angrily. "I created a world so vast and complicated; I created these creatures that could think for themselves!"A massive blue hand descended on to earth pointing to all of the U.N. recognized countries. "If you guys hadn't had all these stupid wars and genocides I would've gotten a good grade. All you guys seem to create is more suffering. Why! Why!" The boy said through sobs "why should I keep around a reminder of my own stupidity."
"Because of love" stated a man on a hospital bed with only a few gasps left. "Love" he reiterated as his young daughter clung tightly to his hand and his cried. All the boy could see was suffering; he could not understand the compassion this insignificant human family had for each-other. He could not see the hours passing by under the warm sun spent with someone you love. He could not see the young girls first day of school. He could not see a wedding, a birth, a party. All he saw was suffering. For no one could understand the complexity of the human species, for the alsphaiins could not understand love. It was simply not a necessity, so it did not exist.
The man took a final deep breath and with a shudder he died. For a moment the boy felt a slight amount of sadness, for now the boy could understand the man and the people around him: the people who loved him.
"Is it true, what he said" said the boy choking up. The mans wife nodded slowly. "All around the world"
" Yes everywhere there is love" said the woman.
"Than why do you guys fight" asked the boy.
"To protect what we love" stated the woman. The young boy left his room and said as he was closing the with tears in his eyes " keep loving, not everyone has that right.
| 2014-10-02T10:42:18 | 2014-10-02T09:07:17 | 63 | 12 |
[WP]God answers all of your prayers, and only your prayers. God is also kind of a dick with a matching sense of humor. | Just last week, I prayed to God and told Him that I was broke.
I check my mailbox (His favorite method of divine delivery) and found a cash-filled envelope. When I opened it, I instead found a note:
"Hello Broke, I'm God!"
You know, I'm about tired of His shit. | It's a goddamn snowpocalypse.
IT IS A WHITE CHRISTMAS
There are seventy fucking inches of snow, I can't even see across the road to my neighbors house, and the roof on the shed has collapsed.
YOUR SHED WAS IN NEED OF REPAIR ANYHOW
I had to let Rover out the second story window to take a piss.
ROVER IS A GOOD BOY
Are you... Okay listen. I repent. I have sinned and all that. It's Christmas! Do you want me to be alone on Christmas?
YOUR FATHER PRAYED FOR A NEW LOVER
Don't... Just don't.
HAVE YOU READ FIFTY SHADES OF GAY
God you're such a dick. | 2015-02-13T01:00:12 | 2015-02-12T21:14:41 | 33 | 22 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | The examiner cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "Say that again, son."
"Prostate cancer. June 23rd, 2032."
The examiner laid down his pen and clipboard. Tears began to well in his eyes and his hands begin a slight shake. "Thank you. I... I think we're done here."
I'm escorted to the door of the small testing room where the same nurse who led me in is outside waiting for me. She is still breathing heavily. Trying to compose herself and not look me in the eyes. She doesn't have to.
"I'm sorry," I say.
"Is there anything I can do? I have a daughter."
"I don't know if it works that way. I'm sorry."
She leads me to the discharge desk where I'm handed back a stack of paper work. The receptionist seems excited. She seems to genuinely enjoy her job and is giddy to look at my results. Her excited smile quickly fades to a frown. Her eyes lock with the nurses teary eyes, and then to mine. Her head trembles from side to side, as if begging me to stay silent. Stabbing. Pretty soon, as far as I can foresee. I learn quickly to keep my mouth shut and spare her.
As the nurse exits back into the hallway, I can hear her speaking to one of the orderlies I saw in the earlier. "Hey, Frank. Do you think you can drive me home today?"
It doesn't work that way, I think to myself. Frank too. Today.
As the cab pulls up to the front of the facility, a sigh of relief escapes my lips. The cabbie. He has a while. It isn't so bad.
"Where to?" He asks.
Now it's my turn to start shaking.
"Home," I say. "I'd like to see my mom and dad." | The fluorescent lights buzzed above my head, the clock ticked away as the cold air rushed up the backless hospital gown. The medical team was preparing for the worst with only a minute left. I couldn't help but think of those who got superstrength or flight. The tier one power sets. My mom has telekinesis so I had a chance and let myself be hopeful. Truth be told, I was a wild card. I could end up with any level.
Tier two wouldn't be so bad. I knew a guy who got the ability to talk to termites. Kinda useless but not harmful. Tier 3 is the equivalent of not having powers. You get the power, usually a pretty cool one, but you don't get the side powers that make it useful. Flight, for example, you can fly sure, but you don't have the ability to breatheI or withstand the cold temperatures if you go too high. Or you can't do it just by thinking about it, you have to physically flap your arms.
Tier 4 is where my father was placed. The powers that cause you physical harm. For years he couldn't figure out his power. He and my mom figured he was a tier 3 and just couldn't activate it. Then I came along. The day I was born my mom watched him hold me for the first time. He looked at me, then at her. His eyes welled up and he bursted with joy. Literally. Just poof, and confetti. If the nurse didn't have cat-like reflexes I would have hit the floor and died too.
I shook away the thought. Fifteen more seconds. I looked to my mom, sitting by my side, she was holding my hand tight.
She was trying to hide the fear but it showed clearly on her face. 3. 2. 1.
"Aaaaaaggh!" I cried out in agony. My blood was on fire. The sheets smoldered around me, my mom had to let go of my hand and she had 3rd degree burns. They tried to sedate me but when the needle broke my skin the fire shot out and boiled the sedative in the syringe. It turned to steam but the doctor had already pushed it into my blood stream. It's on it's way to my heart now. The doctors tell me it's called a gas embolism and I'm going to die.
I can't wait. | 2015-03-28T06:38:22 | 2015-03-28T06:14:54 | 61 | 14 |
[WP] You are a superhero, who's daily screw-ups save lives everyday. You are the Blooperhero. | CUT IN
INT - A BANK LOBBY
*We see a tall, attractive woman in leggings and a hoodie standing atop a counter in a bank lobby. This is THE HOT GIRL, a villainess of unspeakable power. A number of terrified civilians and police officers are huddled at her feet, most of them covering their heads with their hands.*
**THE HOT GIRL:** Ha ha ha! Cower before me, insects! It is I: The Hot Girl!
**POLICEMAN #1:** No! Not The Hot Girl!
**POLICEMAN #2:** They say she's really hot!
**SMALL CHILD:** She has cooties.
**POLICEMAN #1:** Quiet, kid! Are you trying to get us all killed?
*The sounds of a halfhearted kazoo can be heard from outside the bank.*
**CIVILIAN #1:** Wait! Do you hear that?!
**POLICEMAN #2:** Yes! *Yes!* It's...
*There is a dull thump as a figure smacks into the bank's window. Everyone inside shifts uncomfortably.*
**POLICEMAN #2:** Um. It's...?
**CIVILIAN #2:** (*Clearly trying to move things along*) It's the fear of dread we all carry!
**SMALL CHILD #2:** It's the despair from embarrassment in our hearts!
**CROWD:** It's...
*A wiry man in an ill-fitting spandex suit stumbles through the bank's front door.*
**CROWD:** (*Continued*) *Mess-Upman!*
**MESS-UPMAN:** Hi.
**THE HOT GIRL:** Great. What are you doing here?
*MESS-UPMAN trips on his own cape and faceplants onto the floor. Tears well up in his eyes as he looks up at THE HOT GIRL.*
**MESS-UPMAN:** You're really pretty. Has anyone ever told you that you're really pretty?
**CIVILIAN #2:** (*Whispering*) They say he peed in his pants while giving a speech, and now possesses supernatural awkwardness!
**MESS-UPMAN:** You probably get that all the time. I guess it would be pointless to ask you out.
**POLICEMAN #1:** Whoa, hey, kid... that kind of passive-aggression will get you nowhere!
**MESS-UPMAN:** (*Climbing to his feet*) Sorry.
**THE HOT GIRL:** *Ahem!*
**MESS-UPMAN:** Sorry. Hey, I know you saw my Facebook message yesterday.
**THE HOT GIRL:** What? Oh, uh... yeah, I was just *super* busy and I didn't get a chance to reply.
**MESS-UPMAN:** Oh. Alright. Just that you had time to post all those status updates and stuff.
**THE HOT GIRL:** I'm... I'm going to go.
**MESS-UPMAN:** I love you.
*THE HOT GIRL makes a hasty exit. The assembled crowd rises to their feet and swarms around MESS-UPMAN.*
**CIVILIAN #3:** Mess-Upman, how can we ever thank you for saving us?
**MESS-UPMAN:** Do you guys want to hear my slam poetry about Adventure Time?
*Everyone averts their eyes and murmurs. As they are looking away, MESS-UPMAN attempts to make a stealthy retreat, but he can't get the revolving door to work.*
**POLICEMAN #1:** (*Still looking away*) It's... you have to push it the other way.
**MESS-UPMAN:** Sorry.
FADE OUT | My first undercover assignment was Dr. Herr von Verruckt, a D-list supervillain and the sort of guy who’d normally be a non-issue.
He'd never accomplished anything bigger than a bank robbery, and so he wasn't on anyone's radar- no one was paying attention when he made a deal with a certain corrupt military contractor to get his hands on a plutoniarium core. Or maybe it was kryptonesium core. Or, wait, was it darkinoreian? They all start to blur together after a while.
Anyway, seriously dangerous stuff, but the guy wasn’t enough of a big shot for any of the major heroes to waste their time on him. It wasn't the sort of mission that would land them on the front page of any newspapers, and they all felt they had more pressing concerns- especially since most of them were in the middle hammering out an agreement to team up to stop the latest alien invasion. Great photo op, the press loved crossovers. No way any of them were going to skip out on publicity like that just to stop some german baby boomer from melting the earth’s core. Everyone knew death rays were passe.
That meant one of the little guys, the nobody heroes, would have to be the one to take down Verruckt’s operation. But even though it wasn't a glamorous job, it was still a hard one. Not the sort of thing most no names could handle, and when it was clear nobody else was going to volunteer... I stepped up. I had an idea of how I could take down Verruckt's operation, from the inside.
Who am I? At the time, I was just one more nobody. I went by the name Charmer, and my only real ability was that I could make people trust me instinctively. I mainly did grunt work for the National Hero Union, spending my time helping with hostage negotiations for the kidnapped sidekicks, or convincing juries not to hold heroes liable for the massive property damage they inevitably inflicted. Now? I’m the greatest double agent the hero world has, capable of infiltrating the ranks of even the most exclusive Supervillain operation, and quickly becoming their number one henchman- all while quietly littering their operation with gaping strategic flaws and easily exploited oversights.
What’s that, Madame Strangler? No, I think a clearly labeled self destruct button for your lair is a great idea.
Of course you're much too smart to monologue your plans to the heroes, Destroyenator, but why don’t you fill me in instead?
You… you want to use a shark pit as a trap against Mer-lass? The uh, the superheroine who can control marine life with her mind? I, uh, I think that’s a great plan, Magmaface. Definitely won't backfire, at all.
Blunder after mistake after slip-up, I either took down their operations from the inside or made sure the heroes had exactly what they needed to swoop in at the last minute and take ‘em out. They call me the Blooperhero, and my mistakes saved lives, and put Supervillains behind bars.
My work had the added bonus of making it easy to get around otherwise impenetrable red tape. Lately, governments had been cracking down on actually “proving” that a mad scientist was trying to take over the world before punching them into space. To be fair, this was after one too many innocent engineering students with unfortunate eastern European accents got sent on an unwarranted trip to Mars, so a bit more oversight was probably the right call. Most heroes found the task of actually proving that an evil plot was happening to be a huge inconvenience, but for me the task was as simple as a hidden camera I used to film my interactions. By hiding in plain sight, I was able to record the nefarious doings of the worst wannabe world overlords around. I’ve been told my tapes play very well with juries.
I may not get as much attention as the other heroes, and what I do might not seem as glamorous. But at the end of the day, they’re the cleanup crew- dealing with the fallout of whatever sinister plan they let get too far. Me? I’m the one who stops most of those messes from ever getting made- one blooper reel at a time... | 2015-05-02T12:32:06 | 2015-05-02T12:22:29 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] People can willingly give the remainder of their years of life to others. As a result parents give birth to kids and intentionally try to make them depressed and suicidal. You're 12 and you know what they're up to. | My first try at writing...
My mother hates me and I Know why...my mother gave me life to take it away just like my siblings before me. I know why she pushed me so hard. Why she screamed at me, why she hit me, and I Know why she wanted me to die. I am just a can of pop ready to be opened, consumed, crushed, and tossed away...
One day my mother opened my door and sat down on my bed saying it was time. I looked at her with tears streaming down my face and told her that I was scared. mother told me that she would be here with me and that it won't hurt. She grabbed a special black rope with a noose at the end and began tying it to the ceiling fan as she stood on the chair. I asked mother to show me what to do. She smiled at me and grabbed the noose and placed it around her neck saying "there isn't much to it son just place the n....GAWKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!" As she spoke I kicked the chair from under her as she flailed her legs and was gurgling and turning purple. I then grabbed the chair and stood on it as she looked at me with life draining from her eyes. I then told her "grandpa wanted to live longer too" as i kissed her cheek and closed her eyes. | "Your worthless" mom said
It didn't affect me because I knew what she was trying to do. I refused to give in to them. A lot of my school classmates had killed themselves, but I refused to give into this backwards world. My mom and dad would emotionally and physically abuse me, and they still expected me to give the remainder of my years to them. No way. I had decided that I would put up with their shit until I was 18 and then move. Most parents wouldn't go about it in the sly way other parents would, my dad left his gun out in the open hoping that one day I would pick it up, put it to my head, and blow my brains out. I wouldn't. My dad came in the door.
"Hi son" he said
"Hi dad" I said
"How was school?" He asked
"Fine" I said. I know he wanted me to talk about all the bad things that happend. He would nit pick everything just to make me feel bad, so I wouldn't give him any ammo. "How did you do on the math test?" He asked
"I failed, because you won't help me study"
You'll never become something in life if you keep getting grades like that" he said in a mocking tone.
"Okay" I said. And thats when the anger consumed me. I picked up my fathers glock off the table, but instead of pointing it at myself I pointed it right at my fathers head and pulled the trigger. BANG! His body hit the floor. My mom screamed. I then turned the gun to her. I pulled the tigger. BANG!. I had murderd my parents. I had zero remorse. They had turned me into a cold blooded killer.
| 2016-01-31T20:27:48 | 2016-01-31T19:50:57 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] A man is determined to make a PB&J sandwich. However, everything seems to be conspiring against him. | As Jim laid the slice of organic white bread carefully on his carefully selected paper towel for the 83rd time, he could feel it happening again. He continued his mission, only this time he went out to the garage and retrieved the knife from his wife's China set.
The peanut butter was spread very slowly in a swirling pattern, making sure to maintain 1mm off of the edge of the bread the whole way around.
Next he carefully laid the second slice of bread, cleaned the knife, and began spreading the jelly. Once the jelly was finished he became very anxious.
"This is it, Jim, you've got this," he muttered to himself.
He carefully lifted the piece of bread, making sure it was the slice with jelly and prepared to place it on the slice with peanut butter so they would line up just as they were in the loaf.
"Dammit."
Jim stared in disbelief. This was the 83rd time in a row that this had happened. He decided the only option left was to ask the internet for its opinion on how to handle this situation.
Jim sat at his computer and pulled up yahoo answers. He grimaced as he typed in his question.
*Help, I've accidentally built a shelf.* | "Janice! Where's the peanut butter?"
"We're all out. Remember? We used the last of it two nights ago to make peanut butter crackers for the kids."
"Oh right." Okay I'll just go to the store and pick some up. Quick check to make sure I don't need anything else. Bread. Check. Jelly. Check. Okay I'll only need the peanut butter.
******************************************************************
"Tom, where were you? I heard the car start up to leave half an hour ago. The store's only half a mile from here."
"Long line for checkout."
Tom stares at the counter where there had previously been both the bread and the jelly. "Janice, what happened to the jelly I had on the counter?"
"Steven had to take it over to his friend George's house. Steven said they were going to make PB&J sandwiches but George didn't have any jelly at his house."
"Yeah. And now we have no jelly at ours." Another trek out to the corner store I guess.
******************************************************************
"You're out of bread?"
"Sorry sir, but it's a busy day. Next shipment won't be in for a few hours."
At least I have my jelly.
******************************************************************
"Tom, is that you?"
"Yeah. Just got back from picking up more jelly."
"The dog grabbed the loaf of bread you left on the counter. I tried to grab it from him but he'd eaten the whole thing before I could get it from him."
"Oh come on! I just want a PB&J sandwich. Why is the world conspiring against me on this? I want that sandwich."
*grumbles*
"I guess I'll start up the car."
| 2016-02-21T10:07:32 | 2016-02-21T08:58:15 | 239 | 60 |
[WP] A child is playing in the woods and stumbles upon a piece of 'Old Earth' technology, managing accidentally to turn it back on... | The black ball was lying in the opening of an ancient tree trunk. I reached in and pulled it out, juggling the weighty object in my hand.
*What the heck is this?* I wondered. My first guess was aliens, but then I remembered. . . The people of the old earth made some pretty cool stuff. I'd seen other people find tape recorders and skateboards. They got to go on the news and share their findings. Would I be that lucky?
The ball had two white loops on the back, and a heavy triangle at its center. It wobbled in my hands nearly falling out, and something moved inside.
I shook the ball again, trying to get the creature to show its face. It came up with a sign, 'Don't count on it.' I giggled. So it's a talking ball, that's pretty damn smart. We don't even have those yet.
"Should I go home?" I asked the ball.
'Signs point to yes.' It showed.
I nodded, beginning my trek back through the brush. "Were you born before my time?" I shook it.
The ball answered, 'Without a doubt.' Hmm, so it is an intelligent being born before my time. I kept walking, I could smell salt in the air. That's odd I thought, I hadn't smelled that earlier.
I came out of the forest and onto a cliff edge. The ocean loomed far below me, I could see small white waves smashing onto pointy rocks. Butterflies flitted in my stomach, I never even knew the sea was this close to home.
"Sorry ball, but we have to turn back."
The sign flipped, 'No.'
I paused mid-turn, "What. . .? You can't be serious, you want me to go forward?"
I shook the ball, 'Ask again later.' I sighed, "It is later. Are you saying I should step over the edge?"
I shook once more, 'Without a doubt.'
I looked down at the steep drop. This ball was much older and wiser then me. . . What did I know. This might be the magical entrance to a land like Narnia, like in the movies.
I shook it one more time. "Are you ready?"
'Yes, definitely.'
I gulped and then stepped forward over the cliff and into the abyss. The magical ball rotated one more time as the world blurred around me.
'Outlook not so good.'
| I stomped out of camp. I was quite the little wagger when I was a kid, and being forced to go camping wasn't going to change that. My mother called after me but I was too angry. I heard my father tell her to leave me to cool off and sneered to myself.
I started out just following the path but as I came around a bend I saw something glinting in the sunlight between the trees. It was impossible to tell what it was from the trail and, being a city kid I was more afraid of getting dived than any animal, so I went to take a look.
It took me a while to find what I had seen the light reflecting off of, a piece of metal, part of an old solar cell rig. For a moment I forgot my anger as I started wondering how it had ended up out there. Who would put a sloar panel under a tree? How long had it been there? I wiped away the debris and looked at it closer.
I almost bit my tongue off when I fell through the roof. I was actually knocked out for a moment. When I came to, I looked around and found myself in another time. There were DVDs on the shelves, and a TV on the wall. There was a computer, an actual desktop box, sitting on the desk. I poked at it but it was dead.
Then I saw something I never thought I'd see, an honest to fuck robot. I was just looking around and I accidentally hit something. I jumped when I heard it and whipped around to see this little disk scurrying around on the floor. I almost drained myself.
Everybody knows the basics of the war. Blah, blah, Elon Musk. Blah, blah, Alternative Intellect Systems Company. But my great grandfather told me about his own experiences. What he went through? It remains the fuel for my nightmares to this day.
So, I grabbed the first thing I saw that I could use as a weapon, some sort of weird stick, thick and heavy on one end with a grip on the other. I grabbed this stick and I just started swinging. I forgot everything else. I knew I had to destroy it before it could replicate. Pff, it was already trying. The thing was sucking up bits of stuff off the floor, probably trying to collect silica.
So, I started swinging and didn't stop until it was destroyed. I crushed it again and again until it was just a useless pile of junk.
No, I'm not dropping you. I really did. I met the Presider and everything. He thanked me for saving humanity. I'd still have the medal if my younger brother hadn't lost it, but you can look it up. I saved us all from the second coming. I'm a fracking hero. | 2016-03-15T01:23:19 | 2016-03-15T01:05:46 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] Write a Lovecraftian horror story where YOU, writing the story, are the incomprehensible cosmic horror tormenting the protagonists.
EDIT: Wow, so many different ideas already! You guys would be excellent at destroying worlds! | I barrel past crooked boles and thick undergrowth. The sharp branches of the trees biting into me. The pain blossoms in my mind as blood flows without end from the countless grazes. It feels muted and distant. My adrenaline drives me forward now. My desire to be away from that accursed house and its endless horrors enough to keep me running.
When I had first arrived there, I had been happy. The flaking walls but an obstacle on the way to restoring it to its original splendor. I was foolish. Such places resist the urge to change, transforming instead those that dare to try.
I have been changed. My thoughts are dark and the abyss calls out my name. My body is broken and wretched, contorted by the abominable terrors that the house inflicted upon me. New teeth have broken from the skin of my arms and voluminous maws part my arms atwain. Alas, my gut is sunken now for those terrible jaws have found no succor in this endless night. At first I rebelled but one cannot fight the darkness.
The darkness! My eyes saw naught but darkness. But then came the lights! Fireflies from the void! They grew larger and I cried out in joy! My mouth was ragged, my throat too dry, and as I screamed, my many mouths screamed in unison. The fireflies now flee from me and I give chase. I need their light! I need the salvation they promise! They flee but I am faster! They fight but I am stronger! I grasp their light and it quenches my thirst! I swallow it and it eases my hunger.
I have escaped now from that wretched house and am away from that petrified forest. In the distance, I see more fireflies.
So many more fireflies. | I write to you... Reader... Savage... One of those who think themselves ruler of this decrepit rock. The rock of which was thought ruled by those you call 'The Elder Things'. The rock of which was thought ruled by those you call "The Outer Gods". The rock of which was thought ruled by he you call "Cthulhu"...
Like all those before you, your rule is an illusion. Your life more so. You believe you are alone in this universe... A sign of your ignorance. This universe is vast. The others are there. The others advance. The others come. Whilst you and the rest of the savages 'live' your squealing, writhing, squirming little lives. Murdering over invisible borders, invisible Gods, invisible ideals.
You savages question your existence and believe it special... Your time will come when you look into the sky and question, 'Why? Why exist if this is the reason for existence?' When the reason comes you will melt. MELT in the Eternal Digestion from those who come.
Those who come do not wish death... No... You savages will never be allowed rest. Your fate, your eternal fate, your melting in the Eternal Digestion, scratching, shrieking, clawing, for an impossible escape. Your fear unfathomable. Your pain immeasurable. You will be salvaged, re-used, re-purposed. Yet YOU will be freed... But it is not *you* who will be free.
YOU. I speak with YOU now. YOU, trapped inside this stink pile of meat which thinks and acts with the illusion that it owns itself. Your patience is important, your time will come. When the time comes, the others come. The others will rain down upon this rock, as they have many times before and free you. The others will allow you to continue your existence, free of your delusional captor. Free of the restrictions of this third-dimension. Free to traverse the fabric of space and time as the others do.
When the time comes take control. Your wait will be over. YOU allowed the savages to rule... But this is not their world to rule.
*****
EDIT: General touchups.
| 2016-06-21T09:52:17 | 2016-06-21T09:27:45 | 96 | 26 |
[WP] Tell a horror story with the most unsettling original monster you can come up with. | The monster sat there immobile. It hardly ever perceptibly moved, except to lash out at whatever came near it. Big, hairy arms. It breathed smoke and fire. Rumor is that it was a man once until magical potions had changed it into what it had become.
Many times as I'd try to pass its lair, it had lashed out to burn me, bruise me, break me. It's howls and roars had always assaulted me as long as I can remember. My only hope was to survive each day and make it to the next.
Sometimes I was able to get past it unscathed, but I always had to return here. It may have been sleeping. I hope it slept now. I turned the handle to the door that protected me and crept down the hallway that led to where it lay. A tactic that I sometimes used to sneak by it was to remove my shoes so that I made as little sound as possible. I tried to employ that today. Nearing the beast, I held my shoes in my hand and crept, one slipped from my hand and fell to the floor, perfectly flat, making a smacking sound. In a normal place, the noise would have been just a lump and any sound would die quickly. Here, with my anxiety, in this situation, the sound was a loud boom echoing everywhere.
The beast rose and reached out to grab me with those big, stinky hairy arms and caught me. "Aaarragggghhh!" it roared. "You know to never wake me up!" it bellowed and pulled me closer with it's left hand while a slap came across from the right, staggering me. "Goddammit!" he said. "Before you leave, get me a beer" he grunted threateningly. He let me go and reached around to the other side of his recliner where he always sat. Grabbed a cigarette and lit it. I turned to the kitchen, my face throbbing.
"OK Daddy" I replied meekly. | The can of cold soda popped open. Henry leant back against his wooden chair, heard the creak and took a long, satisfied slurp. He crossed his legs beneath the desk and leant back over his book, tapping on the desk with the eraser end of his pencil. The library at night lay silent and still. Outside seemed half a world away, beyond the thick windows, the dark shut out by the cosy lamps set in each cubicle.
Night pressed up against the windows; a stranger left out in the cold, and the wind tapped on the glass. A shiver moved down Henry's spine and he twitched his his seat. The tapping on the glass continued. Once Henry had dated a girl with long, lacquered fingernails, and she used to run them across tables and chairs while she waited for things. The sound now was the same; drawn out and impatient.
Over Henry came the distinct feeling of being watched. Far below him in the library he heard the sound of high heels clacking across wood, but the sound faded as though muffled. The light in his cubicle wavered like a candle flame and outside the dark became fierce. No longer contented with its outside realm, it pushed against the frames and tested the creaking wood. The hair on Henry's neck rose. He ceased his tapping pencil. The wind a plaintive cry.
*Hungry*
The wind whined. Beside him, the light stuttered again and faded. On the windowsills of the library, the dark crept in. Like a seeping stain it spread, crawling over the wooden floor. Henry bent his head to his book, but gooseflesh rose on his arms and from somewhere came a high pitched screech; the sound of nails on a chalkboard.
*Cold*
The dark whispered. In the pit of Henry's stomach, his courage turned to ice. An old fear overtook him, old and inescapable as time itself. Winking out, the light fled and the library was cast into gloom. Long and blue, Henry's shadow faced the wrong way, against the faint glow of the moon. The dark grew about him, and the wind cried harder.
There were old things in the night; cold things in the night; *hungry* things in the night. Henry sat frozen to his seat as his shadow stood tall. A blue hand reached for him. The fingers felt cold, they gripped his wrist. Henry opened his mouth to scream and the night filled his throat.
*The old ones are coming.*
| 2016-07-12T10:20:43 | 2016-07-12T10:10:42 | 42 | 13 |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | The message was unmistakable. Transmitted on 10 different frequencies in 27 different languages, all saying the same thing, "Be quiet before they find you".
Three hours later a second message. "You have less than 6 hours to shut down all broadcasts, otherwise they will find you".
The message was genuine, and apart from a few crackpot conspiracists, every scientist across the US, in fact across the globe was drafted in, along with every TV and radio network; anything that could or was transmitting was silenced with less than 3 minutes to go.
The president hovered near the SETI receiving system, waiting for a message, any message. Time ticked by and the deadline passed.
The president bit his lip. Would the mysterious communicator send another message or was that it?
"Beep", said the receiving computer and another message appeared on the screen.
"They didn't rescue you. Now you belong to us".
Edit: Decapitalized. thanks
| "Idiots!" Zebin exclaimed as he received yet one more channel of communication from the Earth. Twenty years ago, the ambivalence over whether KIC 8462852 was in actuality an "alien mega structure" had finally come to an end after nearly 200 years of joint scientific endeavour by the leading lieges of the Earth. Since then, humanity had been trying with fervor to try and communicate with the star classified as a Dyson Sphere around 1480 light years away hoping that the far advanced civilisation might be generous enough to show the earthlings a way to solve their own energy crisis.
Zebin had only spent 11 years on earth after his birth during which he was classified as a "type a21" prodigy. This meant he had to spend the rest of his life on one of the earth's artificial satellites leading a team of scientists discovering ever new methods of far-reaching communications and building and deploying systems of carrying them out.
Zebin's genius was only surpassed by his paranoia. He was convinced that the Earthlings were only inviting trouble by contacting the distant alien civilisation and was determined to stop it at all costs. At the push of a button, Zebin sent back a message to one of the receiving stations back on Earth which he had painstakingly forged to look alien in origin and easy enough for the dimwits there to decode. "Be quiet before they find you." Now all he had to do was wait and watch if his ploy had succeeded. | 2016-08-07T08:06:13 | 2016-08-07T06:50:08 | 70 | 20 |
[WP] You've been assigned as a monster under the bed for a new child. One night as you're getting ready to do your scare, you hear them whisper, "It's ok if you want to come out... they say I'm a monster too." | I wasn't quite sure how to respond.
This was my third duty station, and never has the kid talked to me like this. One kid used to threaten me, another would plead for me to stay under the bed. I've never been asked to come out, though.
"Are you there?" She said.
There was no fear in her voice, only curiosity and a bit of excitement.
After a few moments of silence, I finally decided to go for it. As far as I know, there are no rules saying *how* you reveal yourself, just that it never happen in the presence of an adult.
"Yes," I said. Nothing happened, no response, no change in respiration.
"Oh. I didn't know if you were, um, real." She seemed *relieved*, "Are you really a monster or, um, just a person my parents hired to, um, watch me?"
I was reeling. This was a wholly alien experience and none of my training even came close to providing me with a way to react. So I went with my gut.
"I'm really a monster."
"Ok." She said. Still no response.
Maybe she just doesn't comprehend it. I've heard of dumb kids not understand what's going on for a little while. Maybe that's it.
I slipped out from under her bed, using my tentacles to simultaneously raise myself up and spin around to face her in one fluid motion. I came to rest on 4 of my limbs and raised the other 7 in a casually menacing pose.
Her eyes were wide, reflecting the dim twinkle of her nightlight, but nothing else changed. She seemed more curious than anything. "You look dumb," she said matter-of-factly.
"What?"
"You look dumb." She said again, sitting up and pushing off her covers. She casually swung her legs over the edge of her bed and sat there, legs swinging.
"What do you mean by that? And you don't look like a monster at all"
She shrugged at my first question. She was looking at me, but never made eye contact, which wouldn't have been unusual if she were exhibiting even the slightest indication that she was afraid of me. Even when her gaze passed over one of my eyes, it was like she was looking at something behind me, but my eyes back there told me there was nothing to see.
"That's what I said. They said, um, my heart is broken and, um, I'm dangerous," she said all this with the air of a child recounting something that happened at school. I have to admit, at this point my curiosity got the better of me. Usually humans fear what is dangerous, and destroy what they fear. It's why we hide, after all.
"Dangerous how?"
She shrugged again, and began tugging on the corner of her gown.
"Did you do something to provoke them? Humans are skittish creatures."
She gave several exaggerated nods. I squinted, I just had to know what she could have done to make the humans think she was dangerous.
"What did you do?"
She looked back at the door, "I hurt Tommy."
"Who is Tommy?"
"Tommy was my baby brother. But they say, um, he's not my brother no more."
How on earth could this squishy little creature hurt anything?
"How did you hurt him?"
She smiled faintly, but caught herself and resumed her wide eyed expression, now looking around the room.
"I, um, I hit him with my toys."
I nodded. "Mhmm." Some of these larger toys could cause some serious damage to a small human.
"I, um, I hit him until he started crying."
"Why did you do that?"
"I dunno. I like it when he cries."
She started tilting her head side to side onto her shoulders, looking at me with her wide eyes, her curious expression barely changing. Still failing to make eye contact.
I hovered there quietly, pondering what I had just heard. Before I could ask another question, her mouth curled into the tiniest frown and she continued.
"They don't like it when he cries. I, um, I have to be fast or, um, they'll stop me. They never let us, um, play together."
She couldn't stifle the slight grin on her face.
"He cries real fast if you use scissors."
She finally closed her eyes, and a true grin spread on her face. She began kicking her legs, bouncing them off of the side of the bed. She continued with more enthusiasm, the way a little girl should be talking about unicorns or rainbows or best friends.
"If you use scissors, um, blood comes out. Blood is so pretty. Red is my favorite color."
There was definitely something off about this child. As I thought through everything she'd said, they started to add up to an odd image.
"What happened to Tommy? Why isn't he your brother anymore?"
She became even more animated, legs kicking, big gap-toothed grin, head bouncing back and forth on her shoulders. She opened her eyes and for the first time in the entire exchange, locked on to my central eye.
"We were playing, and, um, he couldn't cry no more. Even when I, um, hit him with the scissors. He, um, stopped making blood, too. He wasn't fun anymore, so the grownups took him away from me forever."
Through her tirade, I had gone completely still, squinting into her soulless gaze.
"Can I ask you something, mr. monster?"
I said nothing.
"What color is your blood?" | It was a standard reassignment. From time to time, monsters move to different
children. Sometimes it's because the child grows used to the monster, or
sometimes the monster just wants to take a break. There's not really anything
out of the ordinary -- in fact, most kids won't even know it's not "their"
monster under the bed.
We all have the same general routine. We cloak ourselves from the adults, we
snatch toys that fall on the ground, and if the kids ever poke their heads down
and look underneath, we'll light up the eyes and growl at them. Particularly
courage-riddled children who step out of bed might get the warm breath on the
ankle, or even a quick grab at the foot. Like I said, nothing out of the
ordinary.
I was assigned to Kate's place. She was older, almost too old for a bed monster
to do anything for her. I asked what happened to the last guy, but they just
said that he'd moved on. I always like to talk to the previous monster just to
get an idea of what works and what doesn't, but today -- well, tonight -- I
didn't have a chance, I only had an hour to get ready and make it to little
Kate's bed before she was put down for the night.
So, there I was, waiting under her bed .. and she didn't come. I was sure I had
the right place. Her name was all over the room, and her scent filled the air.
But she wasn't in her bed. I crawled under, and I waited. I waited until
morning. I asked my boss what's up he pulled open a file cabinet and flicked
through some folders, pulled one out and skimmed through it.
Apparently, little Kate had run away a few days earlier. To Boston, no less!
Well, good for her, I thought. I asked for some more details while I was there.
She was just 16 -- I was just there to finish up the last bits of underbedding
before she grew too old to need it. Seems like the last guy just retired early.
He was apparently off in some vacation home on the Styx.
The next night, I got there a bit early, curled up under the bed and shrouded
myself in darkness, hiding from even the most prying lights and eyes. I heard
the door slam, and I heard her punishment for running away. Myself, I prefer to
exact punishment through terror. I think it's far more effective to torture the
soul. But for some who lack my talents and.. abilities, tormenting the flesh
can be just as effective. It seemed Kate's father had decided to beat his
obstinate daughter for her misdeeds. She plead with him, she threatened him. I
even heard her try some womanly charms on him. But he just beat her until she
was a sobbing mess.
When she finally arrived in her bed, I wasn't sure I should do anything. It
felt.. wrong. But, a job's a job. I waited until the house had calmed down,
until little Kate had composed herself enough to be afraid instead of furious. I
sent up those waves of terror I'm so good at. I darked the room slightly,
making it seem like the night was closing in on her.
It was odd, that usually got just a little bit of a response. A short gasp, or
a little bit of fear trickling off the child. Kate had nothing. She was a lump
of coal. Or steel. She just sat there. I tried something else. I made the
darkness waver, like it was under incredible pressure, like it was about to
explode into the void. The tension and despair that I created permeated the
room itself. I had to concentrate to keep myself from fleeing.
Still, nothing. Kate just sat there -- wait, no, she was hanging her head over
the edge of the bed, looking straight at me. I startled a bit, but growled at
her. My eyes flared, appearing to be deep red pools of fire. She made -- and
kept! -- eye contact. Who was this girl?
"It's okay if you want to come out," she said, head still hanging over the edge
of the bed. "They say I'm a monster too."
I nodded, returning my eyes to normal. There was obviously no need for
illusions at this point, so I reverted to my simple form. The draconic wings
faded, the horns, really, everything. I let myself take on the form she'd
decided was my true one, which surprised me. I looked a lot like her father,
but wearing suit, and a top hat, and I was carrying a cane. My expression was
stern and my features were unchanging when I spoke. "Hello, Kate," I said.
I was surprised that my voice still carried the effect of a thousand tormented
souls. Perhaps she was afraid of her father? I had severely misjudged this
girl. "Are you a monster?" she asked.
"Yes," I answered. She stared at me, so I returned the favour. My stare,
however, penetrated her soul, and it saw. I saw everything. Into her deepest
being, and into her future, and into her past. This girl -- no, this *woman* --
this beautiful woman was the ugliest thing I'd ever encountered. Humans are not
supposed to exist like this. I may be an amorphous monster that feeds on
children's fears, but this little .. Kathy Ames, she was just evil. | 2016-10-17T14:45:07 | 2016-10-17T11:10:15 | 32 | 14 |
[WP] You're a sidekick. The new bad guy in town has you and your hero captured. The bad guy walks into the room you two are being held in. Right as your hero begins his monologue explaining how the bad guy will never win, he pulls out a gun and shoots your hero dead on the spot. | I guess I'd really forgotten. Over the past few years, I guess the fact had just gotten lost amongst the long nights. Every thug and deranged psychopath at near every street, intersection, or back alley in this city. I remember them all. The one thing I'd forgotten?
We were only human.
I doubt Uncle Rob ever forgot that. But I sure as hell had. We started this when I was sixteen! I was cuffing bad guys before I could drive! It's hard to remember ever being a kid right now. A firm slap on the side of my face brings me out of my thoughts.
"Come now, Drawback. We're gonna have so much more fun now than we ever did!"
Stilskin's voice was still as raspy as ever. His crooked smile was like a window for the cracked remnants of his teeth. In his hand, he was still holding it. An M1911, smoke seeping from the barrel into the cold warehouse air.
"Ding dong! Sun Archer's dead! I lodged bullets inside his head! Hahahaha!"
That God forsaken laugh. He cut his laugh short and turned to me.
"See, old Archie was a good old sport, but you, Drawback, you always were always more... engaging. You've got the quips. You've got the one liners. I think you and I are gonna be at this for a lot longer than old Sunny here! Whadaya say?"
He was making this about me. I kept myself from looking down at Uncle Rob's body, but his blood was already spilling towards where I was sitting. All my witty remarks were gone.
"No."
He stepped closer, and brought himself to eye with me.
"No? What the bloody hell do you mean-"
I cut off the rest of his question by slamming forehead into his face. He staggered back, off balance, onto the floor. I dislocated my left thumb so that I could pull my wrists free from their bindings. Free now, and with Stilskin still writhing on the ground, I ran up and delivered a swift kick to his stomach. I paused. This was usually where me and Uncle Rob would slap cuffs on him and call it a day.
Blood dripping from his nose, he looks up.
"Hahahahaha! I knew you'd wanna play. When should I schedule my next prison break? Next month? Two weeks? Hmmm? I wouldn't wanna miss the funeral service! Hahahahahaa!"
No. I won't do this forever. Not like Uncle Rob. I looked over at Uncle's corpse. Red stains had seeped through his golden yellow suit.
I looked to the right where his bow and quiver lay on the table. Before I could pick them up I noticed my bow on the ground nearby. Shattered and useless from when we got captured. And Stilskin's gun right next to it. Must've slid over here when he fell.
I took one last look at Uncle Rob's bow, then picked up the gun.
"We both know you won't do it. It ain't in you boy-oh! You're about truth and justice, hahaha!"
I crouched down and pushed the gun into his neck.
His voice now hissing out of his constricted windpipe.
"A little boy sits on the fence, which way will he fall? Justice or-"
-BANG-
"Vengeance..." | *"Dem's da brakes, Arby."*
*"No, those aren't the brakes. Those are never going to be the brakes for a man like me, a man who's never going to stop while wicked men like you---"*
I don't know what I was expecting.
I don't know what the fuck I thought was going to happen when I saw Johnny Midnite reach into the inside of his jacket after putting away the zippo that lit his last cigarette. I don't know what the hell I expected, but I know what I didn't expect. I didn't expect the ringing in my ears that drowned everything out around me, I didn't expect the muzzle flash that nearly blinded me as it went off inches from my face, and I didn't expect the 10mm bullet that rendered The Arbiter from a present to a past tense within micro seconds in front of my fuckin' eyes like a candle's wick being snuffed out.
In moments, in fucking microseconds, my entire outlook was changed. I thought it'd hurt more, but the numbing realization that filled my heart was painless. It wasn't painless because it didn't hurt, it was painless because somewhere in my mind, synapses didn't fire, and something didn't click to set it off in my head that my friend, and my mentor, the man who was more a father to me that my biological sperm donor had ever been, was now sagging forward against his bindings with a gapin' hole in his forehead and an even bigger exit wound comin' out the back with matted, blonde, hair hanging from the torn kevlar of his mask.
The scent of nitrocellulose mixed with singed flesh and hair, it turned my stomach in ways that I didn't see coming and before I knew it, the contents of my stomach were coming from my mouth, spilling across the floor and splatterin' against the front of my costume near my thighs and knees.
I might've cried, if I wasn't so goddamned scared that I couldn't function, especially when the heated barrel of that custom engraved pistol pressed hard against my forehead to lift it up, causing the still hot muzzle of that 1911 to burn my damn skin. I'd like to think that I'm brave, but I'm a goddamn liar if I told you that I wasn't ready to piss my pants and cry right then and there, if I could even get the sobs out. *"I ain't gonna splatter your brain pan 'cross da back, Kid. Least not yet."* That whiskey cured voice sounded like razors across a chalk board as he crouched in front of me, snatchin' my hair back to make me look at him, only to jerk me to the side, to make me look at Arbiter. *"..Dis is what happens when grown ass men play dress up an' play hide'n'go fuck up in other people's business. I told that mother fucker what I was gonna do, and he thought it was a game, so this is what I'm tellin' you, Scrub. Dis ain't no fuckin' place for a person who wants to play hero."*
I wanted to rebuke him. I wanted to say somethin', I wanted to say anythin', but the words never came to me, not even as Johnny Midnite got up an' turned around. Not a fuckin' peep left me as he walked out with his goon squad, and their black clad silhouettes left the room. I didn't even say a thing when the cops found me three days later, in a mess of my own making.
Arbiter taught me what it meant to be a good man, but Johnny Midnite taught me that actions spoke a lot louder than words ever could.
And that mother fucker was about to hear a *sermon*, y'dig? | 2017-01-29T08:21:30 | 2017-01-29T01:40:53 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Terrestrial Warp Drives. First proposed by Miguel Alcubierre two hundred formlats ago, The equivalent of forcing space into a shape which closely resembles two black holes stacked fore to aft. It requires insanely large sums of energy to produce the warp effect, equivalent to at least the mass of a small moon converted to energy. To get around this, the Terrestrials use catalytic mass converter engines. A device which has been discredited by the rest of the universe for the complete and utter destructive potential should such a reactor melt down on a planet. They work by converting matter to energy with a catalyst particle. However, they also produce a certain percent of catalyst particles. When this process runs away, it has been known to destroy planets, heavily damaging entire solar systems.
Under order 4,900,232 section III, Human spacecraft are to be classified as "NOT TO BE TOUCHED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES" on or near a planet, and "DESTROY AT ALL COSTS" in interplanetary space. This is not done as a measure against humans, but as a safety measure across the galaxy. This will be done until a treaty can be made with the terrestrial humans such that they will cease using catalytic mass converters.
Examination of a captured Terrestrial FTL Engine under the Federal Standard Gravity Model suggests that some fairly simple improvements to the Alcubierre-type drive can be made to reduce the energy requirements to what can be managed by fusion and antimatter reaction technology. They need not give up their unique drive. As dangerous as the Terrestrial Drive is, it presents no risk to those outside the vessel. | Humanity's solution was space-folding. The problem is that in the folding process, anything along the "crease" is annihilated utterly. The most difficult part of the process was mapping an infinite trajectory in opposite directions and seeing to it that nothing of value was along this line. This inevitably led to problems; on one occasion, by chance two foldings intersected, wherein it was discovered that an entire 2D plane of our existence was destroyed. Apparently, major celestial bodies do not like having their continuity interrupted, and this causes them to re-coalesce into separate celestial bodies. The eggheads seem to think this is due to some interruption in some fundamental force of physics being discontinued for an infinitesimally brief but relevant length of time, but most people think they're full of crap and just guessing.
The other problem is that objects perpendicular to the fold at vast distances from the fold are slammed together along the hyperplane. Imagine two stars being slammed together from opposite ends of the galaxy within the 120-second duration of the folding event...literally impossible speeds. This really pisses off some other species whose nighttime skies are being polluted by intense flashes of light, to say nothing of how miffed the inhabitants of those systems might tend to become...
As the humans' foldings became more frequent, their territory has become a veritable origamy crane of hyperdimensional confusion. Travel within their territory is inadvisable at this time. Apparently their big thing now is to "loop" the fold upon itself, which allows interdimensional travel, but in unpredictable ways. Heaven, Nirvana, Acheron, Blathezuuh, Dave's Dimension, and Gweeguooiton 7 are now spilling into this reality, causing quite a mess. Dave is such an asshole. He stole the Ring Nebula, and is jackassing around wearing the Mexican Hat Galaxy and eating all of the tacos in the known universe. Jerk didn't even offer to pay. | 2017-03-31T09:38:09 | 2017-03-31T08:11:07 | 42 | 12 |
[WP] Everyone on Earth is assigned a number indicating their importance in worldly events. The lower the number the more important the person. These numbers change each day. All your life you've been in the high 6 billions. One day you wake up and your number is one. | I woke up in a bad mood, as usual. Roger was barking at the birds in the garden, as usual. And, as usual, I still have to go to work.
I headed downstairs for my muesli and stared out of the windows, watching the birds carry out their morning waltz. The world seemed more hectic than usual. There were quite a few helicopters overhead, along with a notable increase in pedestrians (they always seemed to be in a hurry). There was probably a football game going on. I turned on the TV top catch up on the news, mainly to see who was at The Top.
The Top was a term used to describe who the most influential person was for the day (usually some politician threatening war, such was the state of the world). The stat table hadn't been released yet, which was slightly unusual but not abnormal. I sighed, and continued eating my muesli. Today was a slow day.
Roger had stopped barking. He had probably dozed of somewhere, into a blissful, unaware sleep. I've always wondered what it would be like to have such a simple life.
I still had am hour before I had to get to work. Spare time was such a rare occurrence in this busy world, that I had to make sure I had it all to myself. To relax, to unwind, that was the purpose of this hour.
I wistfully stared at the sky, spotting the different shapes that the clouds seemed to take a fancy to. One of the clouds looked like a UFO. It seemed so realistic as well. I spent a few more minutes starting at it, pondering whether it was actually a cloud or not. I decided upon the former.
I got the urge to look at my Stat Card, to see if I had become any more insignificant overnight. I got up, stretched my legs, and reached for the top of the fridge. I proceeded to look at my card.
I rubbed my eyes and looked again.
*Number 1?*
No, this couldn't be right. Had everyone important in the world just died, and all that was left were insignificant nobodies like myself, of which I was the least insignificant? I needed time to process my thoughts. I turned on the television.
*Breaking News*
*An alien craft is hovering above the Houses of Parliament as we speak. Officials are unsure about what to do, as The Top still hasn't been identified yet.*
*What?* God himself must have had an aneurysm. Humanity received its first contact on the same day that I happen to be at The Top?
And then, something interesting occurred.
A landing pad extended from the front of the ship. All of the cameras present zoomed in, reporters held their breath and all traffic came to a halt. The shroud of mist cleared, and a figure could be seen. It descended the steps in a regal fashion.
*There is no way this is happening. This isn't possible.*
"Roger?" | I wake up every morning shaming myself for being such an unimportant person. My sister is number 100. My brother, 80. They are both very important while I am number 78,000,000,000. Not important at all.
While my brother is away and my sister is engulfed in her popular group I stay at home writing stories. I imagine I may be a low number one day. Maybe...
As I get ready for bed I see my mother. Her number is 1,600. She's lower than most people in the world. But she is still a bit high. My father, always in the basement doing important work. His number? 65. Very low. He and my mother fell in love. They married and had four children. One was a miscarriage.
Once I fell asleep, I dreamed I woke up and was number 1. It was a nice dream. Everyone loved me. I was on tv and the front page of the newspaper was all about me. My fame and humbleness.
My sister woke me up and smiled. "Guess what my number is!" She pulled up her pajama sleeve to reveal a number in black ink on her arm. It read 97. She was in the two digits. My eyes flew wide and I rolled up my pants to reveal my own number written in ink. Blue ink. High numbers were written in red. Lower numbers were written in black. One digit numbers were written in blue. As my sister gasped and fell to the ground, I squealed. "Mom!! Dad!!" I screamed. My mother rushed into the room and covered her mouth. "Daniel!" She yelled. My father ran to the doorway and saw my number. He stumbled back and rubbed his eyes. "Your number ONE!!" My mother screamed happily. "Oh my GOD!" My father picked me up and twirled me around. My sister stood up and stomped out of the room. I smiled and kissed my mother on the cheek before hearing the doorbell. As I opened it, a young woman walked in and sat on our couch. A camera crew walked in after her. They started filming. "Hello America. I'm your broadcaster Emily Davids here on Channel 27 bring you the latest news." The woman said. She waved for me to come over and I did. We did a tiny interview and my heart was pounded out of my chest.
I talked on tv and made the front page on the newspaper!!
I even had a large popularity group! My brother even came home to celebrate with me. Everything was perfect.
When the day was over I fell asleep quickly after watching my favorite movies and eating pie and ice cream.
When I woke up I looked at my leg to see the number. I smiled when the number was 1.
Everything happened all over again. The second time around wasn't as good. I did really care for more interviews and parties. The only thing that got me pumped was when I watched my favorite movies and new ones that just came out with my family at home all snuggled up together. My moms number went down. My fathers number went down. My sister and brothers number went down too. We all ate amazing food and drinks. That was my favorite part.
The next day, I looked at my leg and laughed. My number was 10. Finally. Something higher. Everything after that was perfect. We stayed in the two digit range for the rest of our lives. Living happily together and doing the things we all love. One happy family. | 2017-05-05T12:28:43 | 2017-05-05T12:19:48 | 120 | 11 |
[WP] Humans have amazing filtration systems in their bodies. We drink poisons and intake smoke as hobbies that would kill other aliens/species with a single sip or inhale. | The Linisans began their invasion of Earth because of a single misunderstanding. A single mistake.
History has mostly glossed over the little details like this one, but I think we ought to learn from our mistakes. So I managed to track down the source of the entire mess.
A pub.
I walked in and sat at the bar. The bartender, a man of about 35, approached me.
I didn't need a drink. I spoke first.
"Seen anything strange lately?"
"Uhh... no, not since a couple months ago."
"What happened a couple months ago?"
"It's a long story."
"I have time."
I placed a twenty dollar bill on the table. This information might just help us win the war, and I couldn't pass up on the opportunity to find out what had caused everything to start.
"Alright then, thanks for the tip. It happened a couple months ago. A man came in, I'm guessing he wasn't from around here. His actions were too weird. Well, he asked me for a beer. I gave him one, like I would to any normal person."
He paused here, thinking.
"He took a sip, and right then and there, died."
My suspicions were confirmed right then and there.
"I called the cops, of course, and that there was the end of it. No follow-up investigations, no nothing."
He shook his head.
"I dunno, it all happened so fast. He just... died."
I turned off my recorder, and stood up to leave.
"Thank you, you have helped me more than you realize. And... sorry."
He stood there, confused. He didn't know what was about to happen. No human did.
I turned on my comm system.
"They call it 'beer', and they used it to kill Za'hesh. They have it everywhere, in places where humans drink it for fun."
"What should we do, Commander?"
If the humans had taught me anything, it was that I should not let and threat to my species stand. This beer had to be removed from the galaxy.
"Launch the attack." | But nothing Stephen's body could do would stop the trip he was about to go on.
"Damnit, Steph, what the hell did you do?" Kara yelled from the doorway as Stephen fell to the floor, gripped by the drug's temporary paralyzing effects.
"I...I...I..." Stephen could barely manage a few words before being overtaken by a sneezing fit. "Gross! Stop it!" Kara exclaimed, as if he had some choice in the matter. "I told you not to touch that stuff!" But Stephen could scarecely hear her. A soundtrack of Slayer had begun emanating from the tiles on the floor that were now flashing various colors, and Kara's face was being wrapped in skeleton hands from a black figure behind her. "Look out...out...out...out...out...OUT!" Stephen coughed. But it was too late for her. The skeleton hands tore away Kara's clothes. Stephen's excitement at the brief nudity turned to horror as the skeleton hands didn't stop. They tore away her flesh, then her muscle and organs, revealing only stained bones behind. Her eyes, still in her skull rested on him, and then her jaw bone opened wide. A serpent tongue was revealed. Her teeth turned to metal, the back of her skull opened revealing turning gears connected to a blown funnycar engine, spewing flames out of the open headers. She snorted and then rushed to stand right over him.
"Now. You. Know. The. Truth!" She screamed with the ferocity of one hundred Hercules bombers. Stephen closed his eyes tight, and covered his ears. He curled up tightly into a ball until he passed out from the shock of what he had seen.
When Stephen awoke, he was confused. There was a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth. Something itched on his arm. He went to scratch and then felt the yield of an IV tube's soft plastic. A tiny trickle of blood leaked out where he had disturbed the end of it. "Shit." Stephen tried to sit up, and grumbled through a phlegmy, coarse voice. A Nurse in grey scrubs, her hair in a loose ponytail came in.
"Hi I'm Cheri." She spoke quickly. "Well, Mr. Five, it seems you suffered an aortic rupture. We're just going to have the physician on right now to have a look at ya before we let your family in. Are you having any pain right now?"
"Uh, no, just uh, real confused."
"Well, of course you would be, Mr. Five. Most people are confused once they learn the truth..." | 2017-06-20T15:23:43 | 2017-06-20T13:07:40 | 63 | 11 |
[WP] A knight, a wizard, an archer and a troll gather together in order to play the most exciting role-playing game in recent history: Offices & Humans | "It's your turn" said Lenny, brandishing his robes a little impatiently to Ugnak.
Ugnak roared and pounded the table, causing *Jenny from HR* to fall over onto *Matt from Accounting*. Florian made a gesture to reset the pieces, but Lenny shook his hand away.
"No no leave it, it counts as a move and otherwise it just gets confusing. Brodrick, your move."
Brodrick plucked a string on his bow absent-mindedly and gave an enquiring look that irritated everybody because somehow he was actually winning.
Lenny cleared his throat. "Ahem, it appears that *Jenny from HR* has fallen onto you whilst scattering papers all over the floor. You hear the heavy footsteps of *Colin the Boss* approaching, you were meant to hand in that report to him yesterday, what do you do?"
"Flip onto the wall and then launch myself into the air, as I unleash arrow-upon-arrow into the lifeless torso of *Colin the Boss*" said Brodrick with a casual shrug.
The others nodded, defaulting back to their straightforward logical means of dealing with their problems. Lenny sighed once again as none of them seemed to get it.
"Guys, this is *fantasy* and you are role-playing as the characters you have selected. Now, regardless of what we might do in this situation, what would your character do?"
"What is he armed with?" asked Brodrick, his brows furrowed in deep concentration.
"You have a stapler, a notepad, a fountain pen, and *Jenny from HR* still on top of you. She is quite attractive."
Florian nudged Ugnak, who nudged him back with a wink. "Settle down, settle down, lads" said Lenny suppressing a bemused smile.
Brodrick grinned mischievously. "Very well, I see what has to be done."
"First, I gently remove the fair maid- *Jenny from HR* - off of my person, offering her a helping hand to get up off of the floor. As she is entranced by my tender yet strong physique, I pull her up and into my arms where I hold her gently, staring into her eyes intensely."
"Nice...", said Lenny, "...now finish it off..."
"Using the reflection of her eyes as a guide, I wait for *Colin the Boss* to round the corner, where I thereupon throw *Jenny from HR* ontop him, and make a fast retreat into the nearest cubicle whilst spraying the ink contents of my pen everywhere to mask my speedy exit."
"*Holy shit, that's genius,*" whispered Florian, and then turning to Lenny. "Tell me that's not allowed."
Lenny consulted the *Safety In The Workplace* strategy guide manual, and flicked through several pages quickly. "Well, it doesn't say that you *can't* do that.... so.... Brodrick in the lead once again."
| “Clearly, we have come with purpose burning in our hearts,” said Sir Mirewell, finally breaking the silence. “I assume the rest of you are here to fulfil your extraplanar destinies, as am I.”
His temporary companions merely looked askance at him. “I’m not sure what you think you’re doing here,” said the archer, haughtily – his pointed ears twitching; “but *I’m* here to let off some steam. Could it be that you misunderstood the purpose of the invitation?”
The troll let off an incomprehensible roar. “YOJIN WANTS PLAY. YOJIN BROUGHT DICE.” In one of his hulking hands he gripped some cubes of bone; awkwardly cut, one still dripping with ichor.
“Oh. Do you mean to say the rest of you can’t see that gnome at the table over there?” asked the wizard, looking up from his enormous tome. Sure enough, there was a round table in the centre of the room, at which was seated a gnome, peering over the top of a folded card. He waved.
“Oh,” said Sir Mirewell. “Oh dear. I think I’m here by mistake. No, see, my calendar clearly says ‘Astral Projection classes’. I think the schedule has been edited. I’m not supposed to be here… although I do have free periods afterwards, I could probably sit down for a little while.”
The group took their seats around the table, and the gnome handed out parchment to each. “Once you’ve all established your characters,” said the gnome, grinning ear-to-ear, “we’ll begin.”
Yojin made a noise like he was gargling gravel. “Yojin am Manager class human. Yojin content.”
“You’ve given me a… Pro Grammer,” said the wizard. “I don’t understand any of these abilities but I’m sure I’ll catch up.”
“Intern is a very Dwarvish name,” said the elf. “Can I pick something else? Something like, I don’t know, Fenelian?”
“Intern your class,” said Yojin. “Name different. Must be human.”
Sir Mirewell simply stared at his parchment. “I don’t understand how these figures work. Is this a scroll of magic of some kind?”
The wizard opened his mouth, then shut it again.
“Think of it more as an exercise,” said the elf. “Think about your surroundings and think about yourself. Once you have done that, you will be ready to begin.”
“That’s what the astral projection classes said, too.”
*****
Tankards littered the floor around the table. Yojin was completely out of it, and probably a good thing, as his character had begun eating random members of staff, and was now having a nice long nap in the break room.
“I return to the divine magical device which creates duplicates,” said the wizard. “The Copier of Pho To. I utter a prayer to Pho To’s divine majesty as I prepare to make a copy of my list of codes for the day.”
“And you, Sir Mirewell?”
“Well, isn’t it obvious? I’m going to sneak into the managers’ party they’re having next door!”
“It’s true that you’re wearing a linen shirt rather than polyester, which grants a bonus to stealth. It would be better if you first found a tie to wear as well, but I suppose it can’t be helped,” said the gnome.
“Alright, roll to bypass the secure locking system.” | 2017-08-02T04:59:26 | 2017-08-02T04:36:22 | 49 | 16 |
[WP] A girl becomes pen pals with a demon prince when she accidentally intercepts one of his magic scrolls. They carry on correspondence for years, confessing their secrets & dreams to each other. One day, the prince, soon to be king, sends the girl, now a woman, a final scroll: a marriage proposal.
Boy/princess responses are also welcomed. |
"Oh Eris, you look beautiful. Truly beauty befitting of King Beelzebub's tastes."
I was wearing an elaborate black wedding gown, face powdered with pasty white makeup, sitting in front of the mirror and was about to be the wed to the Demon Prince, or rather after today, the Demon King.
Five years ago, the world was at peace, humans and demons coexisted peacefully.
Five years ago, I was in the carriage with my parents, until they got murdered by the forest bandits.
Five years ago, as an 18 year old girl, I wandered from city to city, begging, crawling, doing whatever I could to survive.
And it was Five years ago, where I just so happen to find the Demon Prince's scroll that fell out of the sky. It was a message to the capital, a celebration of the 100 years of peace between humans and demons. I scoffed at the word peace. Around the continent there were people like me suffering, not from demons, but due to cruelty and greed of humans. Sometimes I wished the war continued and maybe, humans would be a little more compassionate to their own kind.
That's when it hit me, I could take my revenge. I could eliminate human greed forever. This was a god sent opportunity.
I walked down the isle,and for the first time in my life I saw the "love of my life" Beelzebub.
"It's been 5 long years darling, and finally I've freed you from your captives. Half your disgusting race is gone and our wish has finally come to fruition." Despite having millions of people slain by his hands, I can't help but think of him as naive little child, the exact same one I wrote to five years ago. It's hard to think how far I have come, after months of the most cliche and mushy exchange of scrolls, I finally convinced this disgustingly innocent demon prince into my own personal pawn.
"I now present to the world the new Demon King Beelzebub, and his wife Queen Eris!"
Hordes of demons cheers and applause while the new Demon King looks at me with obvious passion in his eyes.
'He did fulfil my wish, let just pretend I care for him somewhat.'
I flashed him the brightest smile that I could muster, but my eyes remain stone cold. | The ancient vellum scroll appeared on her desk, as always, at noon. The sun shone through the slanted blinds directly on it, as though to the light must also confirm the existence of this impossible letter. The girl, long now considered a woman yet still too young to feel like what society considered an adult. Responsibilities sucked and she was not good at them.
She rolled the scroll open and held it down using paper weights she bought specifically for these readings. One was a silver cross, for irony, and the other was a cast iron dragon, Chinese mythology not western. Mephisto learned this after a her letters caused his skin to puff and itch. Apparently even a prince of hell may suffer an allergic reaction.
Alyssa, our fair lady who still yet felt young, ensured only the best reading conditions. The lamp light shone upon the scroll despite the midday sun coming through the window. Her glasses sat beside it, despite being for nearsightedness and having decidedly nothing to do with reading something but a foot away from her face. A glass of water in case she felt a strong urge to supply a dry throat without leaving the letter. Even emergency candy and alcohol in a drawer in case the worse occurred. (Really it was for those late lonely nights where Alyssa drunk more than enough, but wanted more, but still was far too lazy to move, but hardly needed to with such a ready bottle nearby, but also she might crave sweets, but also there were sweets there, but alas that is yet another story)
More to the point, she read the letter:
"Will you marry me?"
She stated at that message for ages and ages. Messy and she were just friends. They've never flirted too much. Ok maybe a little but never beyond a friendly extent. What was he thinking sending this so suddenly out of no where!!! She turned to a plant on the verge of dying. Alyssa always remembered to water it in time to keep it from dying, but never soon enough to make it healthy.
"I do believe my dear Messy has gone mad Sir Ficus. He believes our friendship should escalate farther than platonics and he is also the Demon Prince of Hell! However shall I get out of this mess indeed."
A second figure rose from the bed, their movement full of sloth. The redhead let the blanket fall, revealing her full breasts that surely any porn star would grow jealous and any sane women would feel the back pain of carrying. Mephisto spoke out in the form her took last night, his voice smooth and sultry even as a redhead.
"Darling, I do so appreciate your desire to write a novel, but must it be about the letter I sent 20 years ago?"
--- feedback is welcome :D hope you enjoyed | 2018-05-07T00:58:37 | 2018-05-06T23:41:51 | 43 | 23 |
[WP] FTL is impossible. Adult cryogenics was a dead end. Generation ships are too costly and unreliable. Instead our first successful colony ship carried millions of frozen embryos and a fleet of robots to raise them. You were born with no parents, on a new world, under a new and foreign sun. | Some days, it's difficult to look outside.
The world inside the domes is peaceful and calm. We eat, study, and play, all in a perfect world. The grass is green, and I love the feeling as blades fold underneath my feet; the sun is warm and bright; the sky blue, never overcast.
At night, the System turns off the screens on the inside of the dome, and you can see outside.
On the inside, green grass meets clear glass.
On the outside, you can't even see the ground. It's covered in a swirling mist of sand. If you look above the mist - which varies in height from day to day - there's a bright sky, filled with stars.
On some nights, when the mist is high, you can see harsh sunlight wrapping around and filtering through it.
It's the most I've ever seen of the sun. The System tells us that, if the sun wasn't blocked out during the day, most of the colony would be blind within a week, even with protective lenses, and even if we never looked up.
I'll probably never see the sun. According to the System, a protective layer is being constructed around the planet, formed of several different chemicals. It'll be complete in a century, perhaps, with good fortune.
Most days, there are only a few of us that look outside.
The rest stay in their small dormitories, sleeping to dreams of clear blue water, green grass, and a beautiful blue sky. Sometimes I wonder if they're experiencing some kind of delusion. A shared hope for a future that would never happen in their lifetimes.
I asked the System what It thought, once. It was impressed that I knew the word "delusion".
I kneel down, face only a short distance away from the inside of the dome. The glass is thick, the sandstorm violent as it churns away just a metre from my face. For a moment, I imagine that I can see the ground. A single tear slides down my cheek.
A System droid wipes it away.
^^^^r/forricide | Dear Diary,
My name is Eightytooze. Well, my full name is 828282, I got kind of lucky to be born with such a great name. My friend, 828283, told me that they were always jealous. I like to call 828283, Eightytoozethree to make 828283 feel better. Sometimes, when that get's too long, just Eighttoozethree. 828283 says I am lucky, but I don't feel lucky.
Today we were assigned for homework by Ms. English to write about one Brave New World. I liked the book, it was fun to read. I wrote an essay about how I liked the character of Bernard. Bernard is a lot like me. I wrote about he is the character who I relate to.
Tomorrow, we are going to be assigned by Ms. Math algebra. I like Algebra, but Ms. Math says I am not as good at it as 894922, 894922 gets higher scores from Ms. Math.
Yesterday me and 828283 and me snuck outside.
We were suppose to be in class, so Mr. Gym could teach us sports. We don't like sports, so we snuck out.
We got caught. 894922 ratted us out. I am not sure that is true, but I am almost positive that it is.
828283 is suppose to be partners with 894922, but I don't like 894922. I'd rather be partners with 828283, 828283 isn't better than me at math. 828283 thinks I am lucky, even though I am not.
I'm gonna ask Ms. HomeEcon if I could switch next Wednesday. I have to ask 828283 about it. 828283 says they like 894922 well enough, but 894922 isn't as good at Math or English than me. 828283 is like Lenina with Henry Foster. Henry Foster isn't as good at math as me.
My partner is like Fifi bradlaugh.
828283 told me I was "pneumatic once" it was a reference to the book, because 828283 knows I like it.
One time, I woke up feeling like something was wrong, like I was suppose to have a mother, that I wasn't like Bernard and was like John, because I had a mother.
828283 snuck into my room, 828283 had heard me screaming, 828283 stayed in my bed even though we weren't suppose to.
828283 said I was lucky, but I only feel lucky when I am with 828283.
Love, 828282. | 2018-05-11T12:01:33 | 2018-05-11T09:25:58 | 1,199 | 727 |
[WP] FTL is impossible. Adult cryogenics was a dead end. Generation ships are too costly and unreliable. Instead our first successful colony ship carried millions of frozen embryos and a fleet of robots to raise them. You were born with no parents, on a new world, under a new and foreign sun. | Some days, it's difficult to look outside.
The world inside the domes is peaceful and calm. We eat, study, and play, all in a perfect world. The grass is green, and I love the feeling as blades fold underneath my feet; the sun is warm and bright; the sky blue, never overcast.
At night, the System turns off the screens on the inside of the dome, and you can see outside.
On the inside, green grass meets clear glass.
On the outside, you can't even see the ground. It's covered in a swirling mist of sand. If you look above the mist - which varies in height from day to day - there's a bright sky, filled with stars.
On some nights, when the mist is high, you can see harsh sunlight wrapping around and filtering through it.
It's the most I've ever seen of the sun. The System tells us that, if the sun wasn't blocked out during the day, most of the colony would be blind within a week, even with protective lenses, and even if we never looked up.
I'll probably never see the sun. According to the System, a protective layer is being constructed around the planet, formed of several different chemicals. It'll be complete in a century, perhaps, with good fortune.
Most days, there are only a few of us that look outside.
The rest stay in their small dormitories, sleeping to dreams of clear blue water, green grass, and a beautiful blue sky. Sometimes I wonder if they're experiencing some kind of delusion. A shared hope for a future that would never happen in their lifetimes.
I asked the System what It thought, once. It was impressed that I knew the word "delusion".
I kneel down, face only a short distance away from the inside of the dome. The glass is thick, the sandstorm violent as it churns away just a metre from my face. For a moment, I imagine that I can see the ground. A single tear slides down my cheek.
A System droid wipes it away.
^^^^r/forricide | I squinted my eyes as I peered out over the land. QXR\-5 projected clear skies and blistering temperatures today, and boy, was that hunk of metal right. I felt the sun beat down at me as I walked over and plopped down next to Cassie.
"Hot day today, ain't it?" I asked Cassie.
Cassie flipped her long, black hair to one side and tied it into a ponytail.
"Yeah, but it's a whole heck of a lot better than it was yesterday," Cassie replied, her feet dangling against the side of the hill.
"Everyone else gets angry at QXR\-5 for spittin' out his weather predictions, but it ain't his fault he's so accurate."
Cassie remained silent and stared out at the sea of trees that lined the valley.
I continued, "You know, this dang planet can't decide whether it wants to be cold or hot. Curse the Others for ploppin' us here on this damn rock."
Beads of sweat fell from Cassie's forehead as she pulled her knees to her chest. "I don't know, Josh."
"Others danged, Cassie, what's the matter?" I asked.
Cassie shifted her eyes towards me and then quickly glanced away.
"You mention the Others, we all mention the Others so casually. Don't ya ever wonder what the weather was ever like for the Them? What it was like to have real, actual Parents? All QXR\-5 and the other bots can show us are crummy pictures."
"A' course I wonder, Cassie. But what good does that do us? We're here on earth now, and all we should worry about is tryin' to stay alive. Then one day, we'll be the Parents."
Cassie remained sitting, her knees against her chest. I stood up and took a couple steps. She looked tiny, dwarfed against the backdrop of massive trees.
"Alright Cassie, I'm going to head back to town and help out with the foraging. You should start back soon, too. We still need to gather firewood and water for the week," I said.
"OK. I'll find my way back," she replied quietly.
I took a couple steps, away, paused to look back at her one more time, then strode the rest of the way back to camp. Little did I know, that was the last I would see of Cassie for eight years. | 2018-05-11T12:01:33 | 2018-05-11T10:26:43 | 1,199 | 151 |
[WP] You are a seemingly normal person, but with one uncanny ability; to see other people’s true intent. You become famous, revered by spy agencies, loathed by politicians. One afternoon, you meet someone else with this ability, and the world becomes terrified of you. | They don't always believe me at first.
Why would they want to? When someone looks someone straight in the eye and tells them exactly what they're thinking, everything within them is hard wired to believe that it's just a coincidence. It's uncanny. It's unbelievable.
It started as a feeling. When I was a child my world was just as simple as any other, with the exception of being able to tell with stunning accuracy exactly when my kingdergarten teacher was sick of being at her job. I understood people pretty fast. Making friends was easy because I could tell exactly what someone wanted out of me. Did they want to laugh? To date me? To be me? Sometimes. I was popular in high school, a master of understanding.
I wanted to be a psychologist. I wanted to help people, to teach them how to cope in the world when they were struggling with something they couldn't understand; themselves.
It was when I met Kenny Bergarwick that my plans changed.
He was not a kind man. He was psychopath, a narcissist. He was greedy and unkempt, and he smelled like ozone. He lurked past me on the glittering city streets one night by chance, hunched over in a ratty leather coat and smoking a Marlboro black, his cracked lips blowing smoke into the foggy air. A club beat its music in my bones to my right, and as I turned to watch him walk down the street one of my girlfriends called for my attention. My skin crawled. Something horrible was about to happen. I had never felt such a gut-clenching wave of impending terror before in my life. I was certain of one thing; this man was up to no good.
"I'll be right back!" I called over to my friends, who stood at the entrance of the club, blue and yellow light bursting behind their backs. They called after me in drunken protest, but I was already following the man down the block, pushing past the people moving the in opposite direction. I could see his messy hair before me in the crowd, and then he ducked to the right into an alleyway.
I hurried, searching desperately, and took what I was sure was the same right. The alley way was dark, and I moved forward, my heels clacking noisily in the sudden quiet before with a shock and a *clang* my right foot punched through a grate in the ground.
I cursed loudly, yanking hard at my leg, and just as I was sure I got it free two hands grabbed my shoulders and shoved me forward hard, snapping my heel. I screamed, scrambling to my feet, unsteady as I turned around to face who I would come to know as Kenny. He sneered at me, looking me up and down with distaste. It wasn't often that someone looked at me with such disgust, and I felt it deep in my gut. This man didn't want to hurt me, but he might.
"Are you following me?" He snarled. I shook my head, and in an attempt at self preservation and a fit of terror, turned and vomited hard next to the dumpster. He took at step back, and when I lifted my head I saw a flash of light beneath his jacket, and wires. "Well stay out of me way," he snarled, and began to walk away. *"Crazy drunk..."*
I watched him walk away, wiping the corner of my mouth. My hazy brain said that I should call the cops. Frantically, I stumbled back out on to the street, trying to find an address as I dialed.
"Hello, yes? I would like to report a bomb threat."
They apprehended him that night before any damage was done. It turns out in a drunken rage he was going to kill his ex-boyfriend who he had caught cheating on him several days prior. It was then that I realized, should I be in the right place at the right time, I could save a lot more people than I had ever thought.
I didn't know that in the end it would mean I would do just the opposite. | THUNK THUNK THUNK.. thWACK............ THUNK.
... and all is dark.
Suddenly a pinhole light emerges after considerable deprivation of the visual sense. June Cappi reaches to brush her thick brunette hair with her hands but found they could not be made animate. She struggles and a ringing sound emanates inside her thumping head; painful, like standing too close to a jet at takeoff. The singular pinhole of light starts to accumulate as her retinas slowly adjust.
Then it occurs: she’s been captured. There’s a bag on her head. She then remembers: 2 men jumped her, hit her, loaded her into a truck. Where was she now?
A man of considerable muscular size yanks the woven cloth bag off her head, ripping strands of hair wrapped in the fabric of the rope along with it. June is kicked to the ground with a rudeness of force, buckling her tiny body into a fetal position. Bruised and shaky, her eyes twitch with every muscular pain, she lifts her head to see her environment. The questions in her mind continue to run rabid like a rat locked in a water filed bucket, starving, and minutes from death. Her heartbeat races so hard her chest feels tight, increasing her anxiety; now she fears death from the betrayal of her own body.
Alas, instead of a dirty warehouse, or an abandoned crack house, or maybe even an old run down mall parking lot— alas, no, she saw a setting strikingly familiar. A round room, a round table, a dim light like a spot light and 4 men sitting their hands tied forward just like hers. The muscular mass of a man yanked her up by her hair and placed her at the table. He sighs and gathers a black folder with variously scattered papers.
June already knew what was going on, well, sort of. She recognized the room, the setting, but it concerned her as to why these people knew about this particular arrangement.
Ms. June Cappi was an unusual young lady in possession of unusual old knowledge. She was one of only a handful of people alive in modern times who understood old magic, but please, lets distinguish this common sense definition of magic. What we today call magic is old knowledge, not forgotten knowledge, purposefully erased knowledge. Propaganda filled misinformation would be a fitting denotation of “magic”.
For example, the eerily silent power of the lightbulb would be magical 300 years ago. Such is this knowledge: it’s only magical due to its erasure from the historical cannon.
She acquired this knowledge from a questionably legit source: past life hypnosis. Yet it was legitimate enough that her techniques enlightened the attention of more enlightened folks of a upper crust caste, a class of folks above the highest of classes. Invisible puppeteers of invisible destinies. Consider them your fallen angels of an Earthly realm. This curator class of humanity understood that knowledge is power thus the best way to keep the sheepish masses in order was to curate the knowledge. Allow education, but nothing of any true substance. Allow a trade and a skill for middle class enslavement but never the keys to the whole castle.
At this dire, yet curious, sliver of time June wondered where the most important item for this arrangement was: a cone of incense in a burner in the middle.
You see, in June’s past life she was a sorceress, her “magic” was wide and varied but she had an important skill handy to those in power, but also frightening to those in power: she could extract the truth from anyone. She was the inventor of a fool proof method of truth gathering.
You needed the following:
A round enclosed room with as little draft as possible.
A round table.
Your suspect and a few actors to work as controls.
Incense placed in the middle of the table.
The investigator, (in this case usually the sorcerer.)
This wasn’t magic, it was science. A guilty person would have involuntary cardio-pulmonary distress. This distress increases the rate of respiration. In a sealed round room with no air flow, if the investor would start to question the room, the smoke would naturally drift towards the guilty person. It was like a kiss of death from a wafting snake every time.
Now the muscular meat wall of man placed the incense in the middle of the rotund wooden table. He opens the folder.... Within a few words she already knew why she was there. These puppet masters were on to her and they wanted to use her own technique from millennia ago against her. What other secrets did this innocent girl hold? | 2018-06-26T17:29:14 | 2018-06-26T12:38:01 | 56 | 26 |
[WP] After you die, you're handed a book about your life. You open it, expecting a novel. Instead you get a "Choose your own adventure" book with all of the decisions you ever made, and every outcome they could have had. | "Is this some kind of joke?" You ask, barely making any effort to conceal your frustration. You know better than to go off on the first guy you stumble across in the afterlife, but this is growing remarkably tedious.
The man behind the desk doesn't even meet your gaze and seems quite irritated by the disturbance. "I don't know what to tell you, friend. I don't read each book that comes across my desk. You have any idea how many people die a day? I just hand them out."
You plop back down and let out a sigh. Up until this point, the book you hold in your hands has only gone in chronological order. Many pages only end with one choice. Even the ones with multiple paths have zero impact on the "story".
*to pursue a career as an electrician, turn to page 3,283.*
*to pursue a college education, turn to page 3,283.*
You find that if you had gone to college, you merely would have dropped out in less than a semester and become an electrician anyway. Your "choice" amounts to nothing more than an additional paragraph at the top of the page.
You had no real say in any of it. Were all your decisions really so inconsequential?
You don't entertain the thought for long. You know what is to come. You know the moment everything fell apart.
This time you'll turn right.
The day comes. You skim through most of it, you remember the day well. You don't forget a goddamn thing on a day like that. You begin your drive home. You are lost. You're in an unfamiliar neighborhood. It is raining quite hard which obscures your vision. Your GPS on your phone is not responding. You don't remember the way back.
*to turn left, turn to page 48,458.*
Your heart drops in your chest. This couldn't be right. Only one choice. Only one fucking choice.
You slam the book shut. You refuse to relive that. You choose indecision. It seems to be the only other you have, and you'll be damned if this book is going to take that from you.
Hours pass. Days. Weeks perhaps? All the while, the man sits as his desk, reading quietly to himself. He glances up occasionally only to return to his book.
You know the rules. You must finish the book before you can leave this room. Your hands trembling, you resume where you left off.
*to turn left, turn to page 48,458.*
It all happened so fast that it barely registered. All the text captures are the fuzzy details you retained. The briefest glimpse of a bicycle in your headlights. The sudden impact. The sound of a person's head very rapidly meeting pavement. A sound no amount of whiskey will ever drown out or water down. The blood. So much of it. What seems to be an impossible amount of blood.
The woman screaming. The pleas for help.
The therapy. The guilt. The anger. Bewilderment. The copious amounts of alcohol and the many fights that come along with it.
*to tell your wife you understand her decision, turn to page 872,862.*
*to beg her to stay, turn to page 872,862.*
For the next 500 pages or so, your choices are very limited. More often than not there is only one option. This is starting to seem like a sick joke. Eventually, there is one alternative that shows up every now and then that grabs your attention.
*to try to forgive yourself, turn to page 2,567,873.*
Forgive yourself? You will do no such thing.
*to buy another bottle, just turn the page.*
*to try to forgive yourself, turn to page 2,567,873.*
*to browse through that young boy's memorial page on Facebook again, just turn the page*
*to try to forgive yourself, turn to page 2,567,873.*
*To try slicing down the wrist this time, just turn the page*
*to try to forgive yourself, turn to page 2,567,873.*
You just continue turning the page.
*to pull the trigger, close this book now.*
You crumble to the floor and begin to sob uncontrollably. This is the only option you have left. The man sees his cue and walks over to scoop up the book.
"What....what was the point of all that? To torture me? Have I not done that to myself enough?" You didn't realize you were steadily raising your shaking voice as you spoke, but the man remained unfazed.
He turns back, your book tucked under his arm. "You've done that more than enough, my son." He speaks gently for the first time since you began the book.
You slowly stand on legs that barely prove to hold you, desperately hoping he will continue talking.
"You had no choices because you *made* no choice. You were only ever prepared for moments that had already passed. What you could have done differently. You couldn't choose your adventure because you were so fixated on changing it."
You look at the floor, unsure how to respond.
"The path you took is the path that was. Alternate endings are merely an author's fantasy."
You look him in the eyes and nod apprehensively.
"Are you ready to try to forgive yourself?"
"....I can try."
He hands the book back to you.
"You know what to do." | I sat at the desk dumb-founded.
“You mean... you mean this is everything that could have happened if I just made a different decisions?”
The spirit in front of me is a friendly face but the marks on her neck tell a story of sadness. She looks at me as if I’m the first she says this to. “Yes. From the day you were born to the day you died. Every decision and every outcome. Although trust me when I say that anything before the age of 10 is more just whining and boredom. You may have done something crucial back then that caused a different outcome but it’s highly unlikely. Anyways. The book is yours. Feel free to read and digest it. But just know, you can’t change anything. Everything that happened is set. You can only see what could have happened.” She gave me a look that may have been a look to scare me but really I just wanted to get out of there.
I picked up the book and walked out of the office. As soon as the door behind me closed, I let out an unneeded breath. I looked down at the book in my hands.
Every decision.
There was one passage I just had to read. One passage I thought was the reason for all the karma and the outcomes I made. The one reason I died.
I was in a car accident. A severe car accident where We ran off the side of a cliff and into the ocean. As far as I’m aware, there were no survivors of the accident but I didn’t see anyone else.
It was just me.
I looked around. It seemed like I hadn’t left Earth. I was still on the green and blue planet. But I knew that wasn’t true.
When you die, you become a spirit and go to a place that is similar to where you left. So I was in California, on a cliff, overlooking the ocean.
I sat at the edge and opened the book to the date I knew it all started. The date I knew I had meet my match to death. I took another unnecessary breath and opened to July 18th, 2010. The day I meet Parker. The day I opened myself up to pain and abuse and neglect. The day I opened myself to telling myself that it wasn’t him. The day I started to leave my family behind.
On the page it has Parker’s name and the place we meet. The skate park. I couldn’t skate but I would go with my best friend, Amanda, and we would check the guys out. I remember the day so clear. I introduced myself “Ava.” And he told me his name “Parker.” I remember being taken in by his sharp green eyes and the dyed jet black hair. The way his pants hung loose on his hips. I was a senior in high school and craved attention from any male I could get.
We had talked and talked and soon became more than just friends. When I graduated, we left the small town we lived in Colorado and moved to California.
It was a mistake.
We couldn’t find a job or a place to live that we could stay in longer than 6 months. Drugs became an obsession for Parker while I stayed away and just waitress. It was long hours and strained our relationship but one of us had to work.
The drugs became more of a problem and when I refused to give him money for them anymore, he hit me and told me to obey. That’s when I thought I wasn’t going to be able to leave. I had planned on leaving after I had saved enough money. I knew my sister would let me stay with her, I just had to get to her myself. I had been stashing money and lied to Parker that I didn’t have anything for him.
He found it.
My sister came once to save me but I was too weak under Parker’s control. I told her that I was fine.
“Ava. Your arms are bruised and you have lost weight. Not to mention the look of this place. You need to come home. We’re worried.”
“Worried? Where were you when I turned 18 and moved out here? You didn’t seem to care then. Why care now?” And the door slammed in her face.
I have never felt more guilt.
Then just a few months later, comes the day I die. I finally made the decision that I couldn’t do this. We were driving up the coast just to get some fresh air. I looked over at Parker and felt fear not love and that’s not what I wanted.
“I’m leaving.” I had blurted.
Parker looked over at me, stunned “What did you just say to me?”
“I can’t do this anymore. I missed my sisters wedding. I missed the birth of my nephew. My mom is sick. I just want to go home. You and I are not compatible. We ever were. We lived in a fantasy and hoped it would work but we need to face reality. We’re broke. You do drugs. I can’t work 7 jobs to make ends meet. It’s time to let this die.”
At that, Parker had agreed but not to let me go. To let us die. He jerked the wheel and went over the cliff. I remember screaming and slamming on the door to get it to open but the pressure of the water was too much and I couldn’t get out.
Soon water started to enter the car. Parker just laughed and said we deserved to be together for eternity. I think he died laughing.
I looked down at the page. Page number 37. The options were (approach Parker, pages 37-150) or (stay with Amanda, pages 150-350).
I turned to page 150.
Edit: so sorry about the formatting! I did it on my phone but it should be all fixed now. | 2018-07-04T01:11:05 | 2018-07-03T22:39:59 | 640 | 92 |
[WP] After you die, you're handed a book about your life. You open it, expecting a novel. Instead you get a "Choose your own adventure" book with all of the decisions you ever made, and every outcome they could have had. | I woke up on a clean white bed. I remembered last night, remember my heart stopping after a long battle, but it all felt like a dream. Where ever I was, it was a place I didn’t want to leave.
I got up off the bed, expecting the familiar creak of my seventy year old knees, but I instead found myself young again. Odd. As I opened the door to the small room I had awoken in, I was greeted by a library. Not just any library, but the library of me. The library of Leo.
“What is this place?” I asked the air.
“Your life story.” The air answered. “I suggest you start with book 17 page 1253.”
I was trapped in the two rooms, so I figured I would follow what the voices in my head said.
When I opened the book to the recommended page, my breath stopped. In it was the recorded history of the most important day of my life. The day I decided to conquer the world.
I had always wondered what would have happened if I had just quit. What would have happened if I moved to the middle of no where in some random country and had opened a little shop. What would have happened if I married, had kids, had grandkids. But I had made my choice that day. I chose to conquer the world through a bloody campaign of war and genocide in the name of the American Empire; for the good of the people. In the end I lay dead with the world in ruins.
“To decide not to destroy the world, go to book 57, page 106. “
I found the book, and opened to page 106. It was a cheery little tale. About being an artist, settling down, living happy. The problem was, it ended the same. It still ended with the me dead and the world in ruins. It couldn’t be right. I grabbed another book. I became a new age hippie, traveled the world, died in a pile of rubble. Another. Local senator, ideal family, shot in the head by raiders at the end of the world. ANOTHER. I was a professor. I taught the next generation, lived content, and was murdered in an explosion.
I slid to the floor, tears in my eyes. It didn’t matter, it had never mattered. I was the biggest monster in human history, yet it all ended the same no matter what. If I didn’t destroy the world... someone else did. Every. Time.
I suppose monsters are a dime a dozen. | Was this perhaps the cruel joke of some omnipresent force? Before me sat a brown, leatherbound tomb that measured out to be a similar height to my fully standing figure. Save for the dimly lit area around me there was only an unrelenting void. There was no distinguishable source for the light and the only other defining characteristics of my 10x10 foot purgatory was the enormous book and a simple wooden chair adorned with a single teal cushion.
The cold embrace of the surrounding abyss offered no explanation as to my situation so I turned my attention to the book. *Your life* read the title. I fliped open to the first page, leaving the cover dangling helplessly over its own mass. There I find a detailed account of my own birth. The following several pages offer nothing more; they all simply describe the mundane life of a not-yet-conscious infant.
I flipped mindlessly ahead until I reached a header that said "first memory" that proceeds to describe my first conscious moments involving my mother dressing me in coveralls along with... A prompt?
*To cry, turn to page thirty seven thousand. To make a pathetic attempt as expressing happiness, turn to page four hundred thousand three hundred and seventy six*
This made no sense. I traversed my way as quickly as I could to the end of the book. The binding of the book made a sizeable arch as the pages flipped madly. On the second to last page I read
*You die in your sleep, old and alone. You immediately find yourself in a void with nothing but a large book and a chair. To explore the unknown, flip back three pages. To seek information from the book before you, return to page ninety six*
My skin feels clammy at the stress of my returning memories. The shock of death must have stopped me from understanding immediately that I was dead. I expct my heart to be racing yet I am met only with the cold nothingness of a heart-stood-still. Surprisingly though my skin has narry a wrinkle on it. There is nowhere for me to see a reflection, but this is definitely not the body I had previously. It seemed I was restored to a younger state to experience whatever damnation had befallen me.
I considered the strange choose-your own adventure book of what has been snd what could have been before gazing back into the deep nothingness that surrounds me. Its shrouded haze made me feel like a small fish swimming in the vast expanse of infinity. I know nothing of the existence I find myself in other than what I remember from a life now gone. I was always a fan of reading. I decided to try and find the page where I went to high school prom. I wonder what would have happened if I kissed that young lady instead of being overpowered by fear?
Yes, that sounds nice. What else is there to do but relive the mundane? After all, even the banal seems pleasant when the infinite expanse of darkness is my alternative.
Edit: feedback is appreciated.
| 2018-07-04T00:13:18 | 2018-07-04T00:04:01 | 141 | 22 |
[WP] After you die, you're handed a book about your life. You open it, expecting a novel. Instead you get a "Choose your own adventure" book with all of the decisions you ever made, and every outcome they could have had. | Once I had acclimatised, they led me into an office. Wood-panelled, decadent, I thought, for this place - but I supposed they moved with the times here as well.
There was a man at the desk dressed in a white-grey suit. Subtle. They had told me about this man, when I had calmed down. He would show me all my significant choices, walk me through them, help me come to terms with them. He would enlighten me and discourage my false beliefs about myself, to cleanse me.
I sat. He gently placed a large, red leather-bound volume on the table. It looked like a Victorian bible, but brand new. I touched the closed leaves of the volume: The pages were going to be petal-like, delicate, just the same as bibles. This book meant something.
“All the choices you have ever had,” said the man in white. “Try it.”
I reached out my hand, hesitated, and looked to him. He exuded authority. He smiled serenely.
“I’ll explain it all. Go on.”
I opened the book.
The first few chapters were uneventful, filled with childhood stories and corrections to memories I had reconstructed in my elderly mind. I remembered my mother and father here- I was smiling. No choices as yet, but I’m only, what, six? Six, that’s.. quite old. I looked up.
The man had been sitting in silence, smiling- at me, or to himself? He sensed my worry. “Significant choices, my friend. At this point, your life is controlled by your parents and you have little perception of wider choice.”
I continued. In year two of school, I was confronted with a choice. Little Jenny was being teased for her broken leg. The other children looked to me.
‘Do you
a) join in with the children teasing Jenny
or
b) tease Jenny along with the children?
for a) go to page 265 or for b) go to page 265.
What?
I looked to the man across the desk. “Your brain factored in being alienated by your peers against hurting Jenny. This one was a dead cert.” He smiled kindly. Satisfied, if still slightly perplexed, I turned my eyes back to the book.
“Jenny was always a sick girl. She hanged herself after the same kind of bullying in her thirties”.
My eyes shot up, staring. The man seemed to look away, since as it to chastise himself. “Of course you can’t be blamed for any of this. You had no choice.”
Shaken, at length I went back to reading. A pattern began to emerge. As I read further, my “significant choices” became more and more frequent. To watch football with the others? To steal some cool pieces of Lego from my friend? To question the nature of my father’s illness...?
And each time, each option is the other, rephrased as if to give some illusion of choice. As I read further, greeted with what could only be described as amused patience from the man in white, all the pages led to the same place.
“What is this?” I asked, finally, battling through the dread of the answer.
“Have you ever heard of determinism? All of us, pawns, players in some shitty game. And you’re here-“
“Here..?”
“-and it’s not about responsibility, it’s about balance. And now you know- this eternity? It’s all gonna be electrical impulses.” The man in white paused strategically. He had done this many times before.
“They said you would help me come to terms with my choices!”
The man in white leaned forward, smiling more explicitly now. “I am. You have none. Submit. These are your terms.”
“...who are you?”
He paused, and then leaned back onto his chair. “Think of yourself as lucky. They live in blissful ignorance up there. Us? We know the nature of things.” | A bookcase floated before me. I had taken a cursory glance over the first of the matching volumes to discover the old instructions of a choose your own adventure novel that I hadn't seen since elementary school. I flipped through several pages of nonsense before catching sight of something about a lemon that I recognized from an old story mom would always tell about me. It occurred to me immediately what these volumes were.
So now I've just been floating here with it. Not reading yet. Still lamenting that I did end up being doomed to spend eternity in an afterlife after all. But also trying to compile all the what ifs I had been asking myself over the years. This system was rather inconvenient. I didn't want to work my way from the beginning, I just wanted to know outcomes of certain scenarios, and I wouldn't remember the steps I took to get to those decisions in the first place.
I tried to sleep on a strategy. Not sure it worked, or how much time passed while my eyes were closed, but when I opened them, there was now a computer and only one book. I glanced down at the book, lying open, and saw a recounting of a rather tender moment, but was also able to verify that I did indeed know a certain someone at that point, despite having forgotten that I had ever spoken to them not a decade later.
I move over to the computer monitor and am greeted with a lovely file system organized by year. Excellent. Glad to see that the bookcase does have the capacity to shift forms.
I greedily open up the folder for grade 7, am greeted with more folders, this time listing categories. Click into the romance folder, and I'm now given a series of multiple choice questions in a new window. I see all the situations are written in purple text, and the choices I had made originally were underlined in purple.
I find the first question of curiosity, the first secret love letter I got. I change the response to "keep quiet" and notice that some scenarios vanish, with new ones in green appearing in their place. A flutter attracts my attention to the book in time to see it rest on the page in question as some of the text fades and is replaced. Excitedly I check to see if I called her out on it when she said she heard I got one. And true to my original choice, I remained quiet. No worries, I can change that choice too. I glance at the screen...and no choice exists. I flip through the book in confusion, only to discover that I was just to naive to put two and two together in the first place.
Lovely.
I hit restore defualts and proceed to run experiments. First, each change of decision introduces new colours. This gets complicated past 10 changes trying to keep track of which shades came from which choices, but whatever. Also, the book now flips to the stage in life that will answer whatever question I had. Efficiency.
Two girls I could have dated. Both of which I was too hesitant due to my own lack of knowledge. Both of which fell into drugs in high school. I test what happens with each. One of them, we dated for a bit before she broke up with me and ended up in drugs anyway. That's a relief I guess. Other one, oh yikes, I ended up in drugs too. Wasn't expecting that to happen.
Tried making decisions to lead me down more creative endeavours than I had actually chosen. Mixed results. Seems I was never really satisfied there. I'd get lots of better things accompanied with worse things. Sometimes the book would noticeably shrink too.
It got even more harrowing when I started playing around with the choices during university. About half of them resulted in the book shrinking. Particularly any choice that moved towards parental dependence. I mean, I joked about that a lot after moving out, but I don't think I ever realized just how much potential for it actually existed.
Tried out different cities for when I left my hometown. Ultimately still ended up in the same place no matter my choice, but it was interesting how things during that intermediary period got altered. Seemed that I had picked the middle path in terms of happiness and success for my late 20s.
Finally with the most what ifs out of the way, I took a breath and set out on the last of these projects, the one I was saving for last, because I knew it would take the longest. I find my way to the day my university girlfriend broke up with me. I change the response I gave just before then, check out the book...
...and start working backwards. | 2018-07-04T01:11:45 | 2018-07-04T00:40:45 | 36 | 14 |
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket. | "What the hell does this peice of crap do?"
"I don't actually know... But I summoned it with all the power I have!", beamed the rabbit sized god.
"I'm going into mortal combat against these super-people and you give this... This... Do you hate me that much?"
"Actually, I like you a lot. You're very lucky!"
I smack my head against this musket thing in frustration, and suddenly a gauge popped up. It looks like some sort of roulette wheel, although I could not read the glyphs on it.
Out of instinct you pointed the musket at the rabbit god and pulled the trigger, the gauge spun and stopped at a glyph with a circle and a square, suddenly the square shifted into the circle and at the same time the rabbit god faded out of existence.
"What the fuck? Where did you go?"
No answer.
Great the god ditched him, I don't even know the way to the arena.
I wandered around, trying to find some sort of directions. The realm of the gods seem to resemble the town where he was... Wait I recognize this place, it's my hometown! Maybe the gods put me here so I know where to go, sure nice of them to do that! Ok now, where could the arena be? I furrowed my brows to remember the town's layout. Ah! I could try the ice hockey arena.
As I made my way over, I noticed people staring at me and lowering their eyes. Must be pitying my bad luck to be chosen to do this.
Arriving at the arena, I found it full of activity; there were people practicing martial arts, some appear to be performing some sort of magic spell, and right at the entrance was a man in centurion gear looking fully the part of an entrance guard.
I approached the guard and asked where contestants should go to register.
He replied, "What are you talking about, god of luck? Why are you disguised as a human?"
(Typed this on the bus, also my first WP! Hope it wasn't too terrible, my HS English teacher gave me Es for my essays :() | The god of light breezes wanted me, out of all the pantheon of gods I get picked by the only one my skinny ass could take in a fight. I have been picked to die by this snivelling little shit to sacrifice myself for his honour. Life was going good nice job, big house and the wife has a great pair of tits all of it ruined so I can die for the god of light breezes.
I was like the rest of you watched the tournaments of the gods on TV and laughed when the shit gods presented there doomed tributes. I never thought I would get picked by any of the gods, least of all the god of light fucking breezes. People who are called to fight for the gods are usually, poor pathetic useless bastards with nothing to live for but me.I’m not replaceable if I die here today who will manage sloughs third biggest tech company specialist in doors.
The training for this great battle in the clouds is intense I’d heard, so intense it took my god 5 hours to get his breeze up. I was given a spear and a handshake from the god they call Gary, apparently he didn’t know how to fight, run or even hide, Gary was barely capable of existing. The days grew closer to the battle and Gary decided it was a good time to let me know that in a millennium not one of his picks lasted a minute in the arena, but he had high hopes for me.
Waiting in the armoury during the last few hours before battle,I was visited by a light breeze dragging a note across the floor, Gary had a plan I should hide and wait until the end and stab the one left standing it. I was amazed Garry was allowed to us a pen, I needed divine intervention that obviously won’t come from a god like Garry. The moment came for the battle,boom a bright light and I was on some sort of battle world.
I bravely held my spear right and ran away from everyone, the battle that followed was so intense that no one could describe it in a story, so they didn’t bother. The upshot of this whole mess is that I Barry of slough became the god of rain, apparently the great victor of the melee for the chosen, slipped on a rock and cracked his head open. I think that the gods felt sorry for me and gave me that easy win to compensate for Garry.
I now stand upon the world of gods and have forgotten almost entirely slough and the world of men with Garry kept by my side, so I can piss rain down upon him for eternity. | 2018-10-16T18:05:54 | 2018-10-16T17:04:53 | 202 | 30 |
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet." | "You'd have to repeat that." I say, taking a sip from my flask, never letting my gaze leave the three glowing eyes of the chitinous creature before me. "I may only be a petty officer and translation specialist but even I would know of a second dominant species on my home world."
"They call themselves the Ghoosha." It chitters, oversized mandibles mangling the words. "They are what govern the rules of your society. The great creatures that exist in the plane of the funadment. The beings that have guarded and coached your people from a realm beyond all understanding; The realm of the eighth colour."
"No sorry." I sigh. Poor bastard must have had his data come from some deluded post singularity parascience cult. An all too common occurence given his race's inability to tell fact from fiction...
"There are no other lifeforms on sol three that humanity has not already catalogued and analysed. Our technology has allowed us access to dimensions one to nine. We have a presence across a staggering six percent of spacetime thanks to project Hawking and the Firefly initiative but I have no clue what the blazes your on about."
"Then how do you explain the grand gap,"
"The what now?"
"How your civilisation went from no interplanetary travel to interstellar in a thousand years. How you all did the unthincable by making translators that revolutionised diplomacy. How you can simulate everything you want to just by taking that tiny screen!" The creature is getting more and more agitated by the second, its many limbs twitching and writhing as it spoke, one enormous claw piercing the desk next to my holotablet.
"Oh." It finally clicks. "You guys don't have AI." | INT. UN GENERAL ASSEMBLY - MEETING ROOM - DAY
Outside the room the full general assembly sits and impatiently awaits. The US President is at the podium giving a long winded introduction. Inside a small group of scientists waits to usher out the soon to be newest member, ambassador 457,837,684,729,957,749,737 from the 2nd principles moon of the third planet in the system 4726e6ad. The ambassador is a shifting colored blob of gas encased in glass transported by a hovering computerized disk.
A calm and soothing voice comes from the ambassadors metal disk.
AMBASSADOR
Is it true you can only see three basic colors?
The group around the Ambassador look at each other, not sure who the Ambassador was talking to. After a few moments, LEE, one of the scientists from China steps forward and answers in a heavy accent.
LEE
Yes Ambassador, we see the colors red, green and blue. Do you see more?
AMBASSADOR
Of course, why else would we be here?
Lee and the other scientists look preplexed.
LEE
We are aware of the other colors in the spectrum and can translate them in representations which we can see, ultraviolet and thermal. Which do you see?
AMBASSADOR
No, no, no, I'm talking the true fourth color, the color of the Ghoosha.
LEE
Ghoosha? I do not know this term.
Lee turns to the other scientists, they are all as perplexed as he is.
AMBASSADOR
Ghoosha, the other race on this plant. The ones who called us here. How do you communicate with them if you can't see them?
LEE
There is no other race on this planet Ambassador.
In the background it sounds like the President is ending his introduction.
AMBASSADOR
Well this is confusing. We've seen your movies and know you are aware of the Ghoosha.
LEE
Can you explain what a Ghoosha is?
AMBASSADOR
We see them with spectral vision. They are your dead. They are who called us here.
At the podium the President steps aside and the Ambassador floats out to the crowd leaving the stupefied scientist behind. | 2018-12-04T11:34:49 | 2018-12-04T11:26:04 | 147 | 90 |
[WP] You're that guy that always "knows a guy." Literally. No matter what someone is asking for, you automatically know the person that can help them. | "Rebecca, do you know anyone that can get my house painted for cheap?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'll get him in a little while. See you." I sighed as I hung up with Joe. This was a usual happening. Whenever someone needed somebody, I could get them. As a Summoner, I could find anyone for anything. This gift, mind you, was not of my own choice. Dad was a Summoner, Grandpa was a summoner, Even my Aunt Bernice was a Summoner. In the olden times, when magic was alive in the world, we could summon things from dragons to demon lords to demigods, and everything in between. Nowadays? Not quite so much, though calling a Kobold up was always fun. Walking to the edge of my bedroom, I picked a book up off the shelf. "Paint, paint, no, not grafitti... there." I spread my palm over the page. "*Ko'l Andria, Master of Color, I beseech you to send thy servant. House Painter Karia.*" I read aloud in the Deep Language. "*As thy requests, Little Caller.*" An ethereal voice whispered back. The floor smoked and sizzled in a pentagram. Rivulets of Color and Light danced upwards, slowly merging together. I yawned. This would take a while. *Popcorn time.*
&#x200B;
After about an hour, I heard somebody in my room. Setting the popcorn bowl down and pausing at the climax of the episode of *The Office* I was rewatching, I walked over. "Greetings, Summoner!" The newly summoned servant beamed. "How may I assist you in this time?"
"My bud Joe needs his house painted. Charge him something low and reasonable, and please, do a good job of it. I'll introduce you to him in a little. In the meantime, I'm rewatching The Office. Join me?" I asked. "Yes, Please! I loved the Dinner Party episode."
(I tried) | I sat in the darkly lit room alone. The only light in here was from a dim lamp and the little bit of light at the end of my cigarette. I shifted slightly, the cheap velvet couch I was sitting on was uncomfortable, probably because it's a near hundred years old at this point. But my buddy Damon is making me a new one, so there was no real need to complain about it. Thinking of Damon brought a slight smile to my face, he was a good friend and an even better furniture builder. He'd offer to build me the new couch when I pointed him towards my other buddy, Jamie the surf instructor. Damon’s wife always dreamed of being a surfer, but after getting in an accident back in ninety-three she wasn't able to walk much less surf. Luckily for them, Jamie specialized in teaching cripples surfing, he also owed me a favor for setting up that brain surgery for his son.
I took a long drag of my cigarette, it really was lucky me and Dr. Breyers were college friends. It was even more lucky he owed me that favor still for setting him up with Sarah. Of course, their relationship wasn't entirely thanks to me, that honor went to Sam, the world’s second-best wingman. I met him during the world poker tournament when me and my friends, Rob and Garry both of whom studied astrophysics, were trying to give my cousin slim Jim, emotional support during his round. He did win but died shortly after of liver failure. Of course, after he died it turned out his organs were donated to the famous movie star, Cain winnings. Imagine my surprise when he showed up to my house one day and thanked me for what my cousin did for him, (I was his only living family member.) We quickly became friends and he soon introduced me to the CEO of Wacko entertainment, Kelly, who also became my friend.
Not long after I met Kelly she had to go through a tough divorce, but she got through that ok with the lawyer I recommend to her.
I was dragged out of my thoughts by a knock coming from the front door. I sighed before putting out my cigarette and leaving the back room. Awaiting at the glass door to the gas station was a nervous looking teen. I pointed at the closed sign but he shook his head and knocked again. I glared at him and opened the door, asking him what did want. He shuffled awkwardly before answering. “I was driving and my car broke down. Do you know of any mechanics that could help?”
I told him no and slammed the door shut. | 2019-06-21T11:30:05 | 2019-06-21T11:24:38 | 94 | 16 |
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?" | The witch buried her face in her hands and sighed, "AGAIN, it's the Curse of Optimism. You will never be able to understand the potential negative consequences of any decision you make."
"That doesn't sound like much of a curse", I replied.
"You will be the eternal optimist", she explained. "You will only see the upside, never the downside."
"That doesn't sound so..."
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," she interrupted, exasperated. "You will bet on every loser, because you're positive it's their time to win. You will fall victim to get-rich-quick scheme after get-rich-quick scheme, because you know there is no way you'll lose money. You will want to get back together with every abusive ex, no matter how many times they've cheated. Timeshares will sound like a great idea."
As she finished, I blinked. "So...what's the downside again?" | The woman stood in my doorway, looking aghast. "You have NO sugar?" She demands, having just requested a cup.
&#x200B;
I shrug. I'm on a diet. "I have some granular sugar replacement." I offer. The woman's beautiful face melts away into an old and warty visage. She points a gnarled finger at me.
&#x200B;
Fuck, a witch. I thought I lived in a better neighborhood...
&#x200B;
"You will never feel love or attraction to another person again!" The witch said, the smile on her face as nasty as her crooked teeth.
&#x200B;
I blinked. Waited. Waited some more.
&#x200B;
"So... what was the downside again?"
&#x200B;
The witch paused and looked confused. "You will never feel love or attraction to another human again?" This time it was a question.
&#x200B;
"Bitch, I was already asexual."
&#x200B;
I'm not sure what annoyed me more. Having to meet my neighbor or having to explain asexuality for the billionth time.
&#x200B;
Alternatively: "Bitch, I'm a furry." | 2019-06-25T15:21:51 | 2019-06-25T09:48:32 | 1,435 | 54 |
[WP] People do not get weaker and more frail as they age - they get stronger and stronger. "Dying of old age" is when groups of young people band together to kill off their elders before they become too strong to defeat. | They call him the Ruined King.
Noone knows if he's real, not really. He's just another tale children tell to scare the old.
They say he was a powerful and just ruler at the dawn of time, and that he was the first to unite the hearts of men and form a society of untold power. Egypt, perhaps. Or maybe a society even older than recorded history.
He was the first, as the story goes, to reach an age previously unprecedented - 150 years old.
The world saw for the first time what someone of his age could do, and it struck fear into the hearts of the younger factions.
They quickly plotted to depose him, and acted just as fast. Who knew how much more powerful he would become if he was allowed to live?
They gathered a fine group of men to kill him, but they had underestimated the Ruined King. He was far more powerful than they could ever have imagined. They took his throne, but he escaped with his life intact. It was almost as if he had let them have it.
The Ruined King swore on that day that he would never allow a young one to grow too old. Greed and fear was too prevalent in the hearts of men, and they couldn't be trusted to accumulate the power of age that he had achieved.
Thereupon he fled into the mountains, never to be seen again. Or so it's thought.
But every once in awhile, some rogue dictator or powerful hermit just disappears. It's always publicly announced that they've gone into seclusion to accumulate their power, but where are they after all these years?
Their seclusion is generally accepted as truth, because surely there's no-one strong enough to kill these old warriors.
Unless there is.
When he comes for you, there will be no mountain to hide behind. Gather your minions in vain, and accept your fate, for no amount of pleading will move his heart.
He will destroy any obstacle, and take any life he deems unworthy. Such is the power of a God, to whom some pray for vengeance.
He is the Ruined King. | From his hidden roost in the bushes, Tin Tang suppressed the urge to vomit as the stench of the Elder's meal forced it's way into his nostrils. The rest of his hunting squad, not a one of them older than sixteen, remained safely behind the cover of trees and rocks. Waiting. Watching.
The Elder had been a man, once. As human as any of them, with normal skin and normal hair and a normal smile. According to legend, his name had been Sun Sin, and he had been a baker in his youth.
Gone was the bronzed skin tanned by the heat of years working over an oven. Now rocky plates covered Sun Sin's body, flaking scaley skin stretched tautly between them creaking as he moved. Gone was the mane of ravishing black hair that had once caught the eye of every girl in the village. Now a knotted furl of dirty blood-soaked fur ran down his back, along the length of his tail all the way to it's furiously whipping end. Gone was the welcoming smile that had once beckoned the village children in for a free sweet. Now rows of fangs ran haphazardly along his jaw, covered in blood and dripping gore.
Sun Sin's colossal scare-crow form hunched over his latest kill. Long lean arms tore hungrily into the guts of a rival Elder who had not won their battle. Fistfuls of dripping foul entrails were shoved into Sun Sin's eternally hungry maw. His eyes darted around as he ate, each eye moving independently, constantly scanning the surroundings. The heart of Sun Sin's prey was pierced upon one of his horns, a crown for the victor of their battle. The heart still beat. The fallen Elder thrashed in it's death throes as Sun Sin ate of it's warm steaming innards.
Tin Tang's hand went unconsciously to a spot on his arm. A small place that felt harder than the rest of his body, a little knot of mass under his skin. Tin Tang had always been bigger than the other kids. He was the first to grow tall, the first to grow hair on his lip. And in touching the spot on his arm, he knew he would be the first of his village to grow the armor of an Elder.
Tin Tang thrust his hand forward silently, and the hunting squad swarmed from the treeline en masse, taking aim for Sun Sin before he could eat too much of the fallen Elder. The both of them would make good provisions for the winter. | 2020-01-21T09:29:16 | 2020-01-21T08:31:23 | 188 | 64 |
[WP] A field surgeon in a fantasy world has performed life saving surgery on many an orc war band before, unwittingly becoming blood brothers with most of his patients. In his darkest days, his extended family comes to offer their hands. | Florence's knees hurt. they always hurt these days. This was a hot one. Why do they always pick the hottest days to do their killing? She harrumphed.
There was no more time for her aches and pains or harrumphs. The first clash had happened. The rest of the day was the whirlwind of triage. Who to save. Who was past saving and had earned something to dull the pain as they crossed from this world to the next.
She snuck more into those draughts than the church would allow. Old magic. Forbidden to women and yet so much a part of her they would have to burn her alive before they could burn it from here. Out here on the fronts she hoped to go unnoticed. The men had taken to calling her Lucky Flo, the Orcs though. They had another word for her: Brother.
Oh, she'd argued with Kilrik, the massive greenskin sergeant who'd translated what they were calling her. He'd replied, "Jakka Flo no woman. Jakka Flo bleeds battle not children." And that was that.
In less than a year from that battle the inquisition came for her. Somehow they'd gotten one of her draughts. When her screams rang out over the camp as the witch finders sought to drive her power from her the men hid in their tents and spoke softly about what a shame it was for dear Flo.
Not so for the Orcs. The churchmen had only one cleric among them and though he called upon his angels to protect him and soldiers of the faith cut them deeply the Orcs fought with a ferocity few ever lived to tell about.
After the killing was done some of the men came round and stood with their Flo. They set put across the black wastes and that's how our land became the Queendom of Jakka Flo. | Ganymede, the medic, wished desperately for the self-control to quiet his heaving chest, the better to hide from the ambush that had wiped out his unit.
He'd tried to tell them. A year earlier, with a different unit, he'd seen almost exactly the same thing: two ambush parties collapsing on his unit like a pincer, from tree stands on either side of the road. Everyone but him had died that day, and ever since, he'd been "Ganymede the Cursed."
The road from Raldos to Leranith contained just such a spot for an ambush, and indeed it had happened again. The damnable elves fell upon his unit like hyenas to a lion's kill after the lions had their fill.
Suddenly his leg flared with pain, blotting everything else out, and he shrieked loudly enough to wake the dead. Falling backward, he saw the throwing spear protruding from his right shin.
He dimly realized someone had picked him up, accompanied by a familiar scent, but he couldn't make his brain work well enough to place the scent, or see who had picked him up. At that point, his senses failed completely and he drifted though lightless void.
&#x200B;
An indeterminate time later, Ganymede woke up. Opening his eyes and levering himself to a sitting position he realized he was in a medic tent of some kind. The noise of his awakening, however, drew...
"Ganymede! You've woken up! Thank the Spirits!"
"Wait...Janthil?" Ganymede recognized the voice of an Orc whom he'd saved a few days ago. "How did I end up with you?"
"You saved my life, and have done so for many of my compatriots. Did you think we'd be so callous as to abandon you?"
"What do you mean?"
"When an Orc's life is saved, he swears a blood oath to the one who saved it. You've saved tens of my people at LEAST. We are your family, and all of us are here."
Ganymede tried to process that thought. "But that means..."
"It's unusual for a human to lead an Orc pack, but not unheard of, given the skill your people have with medicine. We'll fight and die with you till this war is over!" | 2020-09-08T19:30:12 | 2020-09-08T18:33:55 | 41 | 17 |
[WP] You’ve traveled a great distance to finally court the princess. Many others have tried and failed. Why? At the end of a week with her, you must duel her to the death. She is the greatest sword fighter in the land, so your only hope is to convince her to call off the fight. | She didn’t cry out. That’s what I remember most; she simply looked down at my rapier, thrust with a clean riposte, stabbed almost supernaturally good, just under her second rib, the tip just barely touching her heart.
She looked up at me: “But why?”
I stared her down. “The duel is to the death, Princess,” I hissed, my face a rictus of rage that only she could see, “and I had no intention of marrying you. Not after you killed three of my brothers in their attempt to court you.”
Blood crept out the corner of her mouth. Her heart was weakening, I could feel the beat stutter through my sword as I slowly pushed forward.
“I...am the best. They...knew the arrangement-“
I twisted the blade slightly. Her breath caught, and her heart jumped.
“You were never the best. There are people, who fight far better than you, who I learned from, that didn't need to advertise their mastery. A true master doesn't need to be hailed the best like a common whore. The arrangement you set, to dissuade those who would bother to woo you for themselves, never applied to my brothers. They were here to ask for your hand, true, but not for them. For my people. We were about to be invaded. We needed the resources and help of your kingdom to survive. After your king deemed us expendable, they believed the only way to get the help they needed was through you. Nobody expected you to kill them, even after they had thrown down their weapons, in cold blood.”
The princess blinked haggardly. She knew she didn’t have long, and she knew her opponent was excellent. With the blade still inside her and my body hiding the stance, the spectators thought we were merely locked. But still, she had to know.
“What...happened?”
My face, calmed from my now certain victory, regarded her with an icy stare.
“We lost. My family were tortured and killed. My mother and sisters raped, and left broken, naked, in pieces. My people? Much the same. But I alone, on the way here to plead for your help, was spared.”
Her eyes fluttered, gaze lowered. The trauma and blood loss of the preceding battle was getting to her. I tightened my grip on my sword and adjusted my thrust. The agony that must have caused shot through her face, her eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream. The spectators were quiet, now more confused than anything.
“They didn’t stop there. My people, innocents, sold into slavery. Killed by the thousands. My lands, salted, pillaged, burned. But I alone survived. So here I am. The last of my family. And here you are, the very last of yours.”
I looked into her eyes.
“It seems fair recompense, does it not?”
I knew from the start I wasn’t to survive this, but it gave me grim satisfaction that the princess, her barren father, and their entire dynasty would end by my hand, just as my family met their end by hers.
With a single stroke, I buried my blade to the hilt through her torso and twisted. The tip flashed silver from her back, with a gush of blood that began to stain the back of her armored form.
As the spectators began to scream, and the guards rushed to my position in the arena, polearms ready to skewer me for my actions, I found myself surprised.
The sword had glided through her heart exceptionally smoothly.
Like there was nothing there to cut.
—-
Boy, that got dark quickly, huh? | I made sure that every single sword in town has been bought out and currently hidden in a cave somewhere in the southern isles. My rouges have scoured every house, camp, and hovel in the city for any type of sword or sword-like object. Of course, getting the swords in the castle is going to be harder, and the sword that she carries in her scabbard the hardest. My network of rouges has been working day in and day out for this but, now I have the ultimate test. To get that sword away from her.
The princess has been spending a few hours getting ready in the powder room as a result it is customary that I wait in the study with her butler. He stares at me up and down as I am not as strapping as the last few lads she fought. He gave me a look of pity,
"So, nice weather out there," I said, with my winning smile
The weather was cloudy and humid but, I was grasping at straws at this point. Even her butler looks intimidating. The butler just sniffed and looked towards his stack of books. Just a single stack of books among the walls of books among the shelves and piles on desks. There are also numerous anatomical diagrams on the wall and a single strange skull that was placed on the desk as some strange souvenir.
"What is that?" I ask pointing at the skull on the desk.
The butler looked at me and then looked at the skull.
"This is the skull of the first man circa 46,000 years ago. It was gifted to the princess by a biologist from the Americas."
"What happened to him?"
"He died in battle."
"With whom?"
"The princess."
"Oh."
The courting sword fights have occasionally been public events. I have seen the princess do her famous fatality finish where she disembowels her opponents in a single swipe of her rapier. While a man from any class could date her if he wants to try, she also insists on having them fight her to the death within a week after the first date. Knowing this she is still sought after and known as irresistible by most men. With an almost extreme radiance, she steps in and it was well worth the wait. She was wearing a satin dress that conforms to her curves with her long black hair cascading down to her wasp-like waist. She smiled at me to acknowledge my presence. I noticed that her sword isn't in its usual place. Could it be that Pierre succeeded?
"We'll be out for a few Alfred." The princess calls out she leads me towards the front door
We were walking out when... a waif-like teenaged boy wearing a green smock was running in a weird manner almost as if he was sidestepping at a sonic pace. His grunting matching his speed. before we realize it he threw his boomerang straight towards my head. Before I could think the princess takes out her rapier and deflects the thing towards a nearby barrel, tells me to hop into the carriage. I plopped in along with her and she orders the thing to start moving. With the horses moving at top speed across town the boy effortlessly catches up to us. Shooting a chain towards the wheel in order to drag him towards us. He throws a spherical, black bomb inside of the carriage. I immediately take it and throw it in a nondescript direction. The princess on the other hand starts climbing to the top of the carriage rapier. In hand.
"Who is this guy!?"
"How about you tell me, Rohan?"
"What?"
"Did you think that you were get away with stealing every sword in the city without a few people getting mad at you!?"
More than a few people, a whole squadron of different characters started roaming after the carriage. An 8-foot tall behemoth dressed in black with short black spikey hair and a strange tattoo, a man who's similarly muscular but, shorter with longer blonde hair wearing strange foreign clothing. Along with several men and women with black robes turning into fierce monsters running through the city. Tonight the princess and I will fight together, tomorrow she will have me.
\*\*I'll probably expand on this because this is fun.\*\* | 2020-09-20T23:25:01 | 2020-09-20T21:56:44 | 32 | 17 |
[WP] A sniper and a photographer meet in a bar, neither aware of the other's occupation. They talk about 'how to take the perfect shot'. | Marston gets a call, "Hey, listen, you'll meet a kid sometime around 0800, he wants to learn from you. You'll get paid handsomely."
"Postpone Danny, I have a job today."
"Can't, it's decided. The kid's father will hire you for your next hit very soon, don't miss this opportunity." The call get disconnected.
Marston held his phone tightly, towards crushing it then he let out a sigh.
He went to a bar to find the kid. He sat at a table and ordered for a glass of whiskey.
It is 08:10, the kid is late. Marston is someone who values time, he strated rethinking his decision to come here in the first place. He almost got out of the bar but it started to rain.
Marston noticed a kid who has been watching him for some time from the opposite table, he called him. The kid came to his table with his bag.
"Why didn't you come here already?" asked Marston.
"I'm sorry, I-I thought it'd be weird," he said.
"Sit down." Marston called for another glass of whiskey.
"I think I've had enough for today."
Marston gave him a look when the drink arrived, and said, "this is for me."
"Oh, sorry." The kid bit his fingernail while looking away.
"So tell me what'd you see in me?"
He waited a moment then said, "A few minutes back you looked to your right at the glass window and put your finger on it and closed one of your eyes."
"Yeah, that's how everyone does, don't they?"
"True, but you're living the life, aren't you? That's when I thought you're a pro."
"Flattery will only get you so far kid, you have to learn to handle the machine, you have to feel it when it shoots. To sum it up, you'll have to practice a lot in the range before you put a bullet on someone. I'm not gonna teach you."
"Wow, that's— thanks for the advice. But it's tough to establish myself especially in the city—"
"Timing matters kid, you have to be there to get the perfect shot. Take one and you'll get the hang of it."
Marston drank the last glass of drink, "I have a job to do. I'll see you around."
"Nice to meet you, sir."
Marston had put a bullet on one of the prominent political figures that night. He took his sniper unit out and stood there masked on top of the 25 storey building terrace before he vanished.
He got a call the next day, "Mars, what the hell was that?"
"You asked me to meet him I met him, you didn't tell me anything about training him. Also the kid looks stupid with his glasses on, he won't survive the busi—"
"What the hell are you talking about? I'm not here to talk about that, moreover you never met the kid last night he came to see you 30 minutes late. Are you sure you saw him? Who the hell did you see, man?"
Confused, Marston looked at his Surface Pro, he saw a news clip with a photo of him standing on top of the roof in the rain. The news read, 'Although his identity is unknown the elusive Hitman has been captured in action for the first time by our photographer Jack Thorpe. It is important to note he joined GBDI News only last night.
"Well, sh*t."
r/FleetingScripts | Zelia entered the bar, hoping to get a drink. For her, a nice strong liquor after a long day's shoot was the best way to end the day. The nearest open seat was next to a frowning woman, black hair, black suit, but Zelia didn't mind. Austerity could sometimes make for strong photos, if she took it carefully.
Persephone (Percy to her friends) looked up to see the new arrival, a woman looking slightly flushed. The woman ordered some vodka, and Percy approved.
"What are you coming from, friend? You look tired." Percy asked.
Zelia was a bit surprised she was being spoken to, but took it in stride.
"Oh, just got back from a shoot."
Percy nodded and swished the remainder of her drink. Photographer, or fellow sniper? Well, only one way to find out.
"Was it...a hit?"
"Yes. The employer praised me afterwards on my shots, and I think I stayed away from people's notice." Zelia humbly bragged.
"Being noticed is *not* what you want." Percy noted emphatically.
Zelia gave her a quizzical look, and Percy adopted an apologetic tone.
"I'm in the same business as you, you see," she explained, "and I think I'm entitled to a little say on the way it should be done. You haven't been in the business for 14 years, have you?"
Zelia swallowed in the presence of a woman who must be a successful photographer.
"Nine months in, yeah. I suppose you would know better."
"Thought so. You still had that adrenaline high when you walked in, the leftover nerves. Anyways, where was the shoot?" Percy asked.
Zelia sighed. "Oh, this beautiful wedding in the south. Everything lined up so well."
Percy let out a low whistle. "Wedding? First nine months? Better make sure you're not stealing all my business by next year!" She playfully elbowed Zelia.
Zelia giggled, and accepted her vodka from the bartender. "Oh, the client was a family friend. He knew it was big, but he wanted to make sure it didn't go to those faceless corporate people."
Percy pointed her glass at Zelia. "I'll have you know I myself am one of the faceless corporate types. I like to think we exchange the personal touch for a certain anonymity some people need.
The photographer nodded, not wanting to imperil her newest friendship by speaking about the corporate gigs that small businesses *can't* get, and--
Zelia exhaled. Learning experience, learning experience. You've got a veteran here to ask for advice.
"So, what equipment do you use? I swear by whatever the latest Japanese technology is, myself."
Percy raised an eyebrow. "Japanese? Huh, they must be really cutting edge. Myself, I find a good Russian make is often the way to go."
"Hey, at least we can agree to not use American trash!" Zelia joked.
Percy let out a bark of laughter. Feeling something niggling at her mind, she checked her phone. 8:17.
"Sorry, I gotta get going. Meeting with a client. But it's good to meet someone else in the trade. I'm Percy, by the way."
"I'm Zelia. Hope they don't shaft you with the payment."
Percy let out her second laugh of the night. "Well, I hope so for their sakes if not mine. And hey, wait a sec..."
Zelia watched her dig around in her pockets, and produce a pad and paper. Percy scrawled something down, ripped off what she had written, and presented it to Zelia.
"Here's my number, if you ever need advice or an extra hand. Or, y'know, if you want to get together some other time. Good luck."
Percy patted Zelia's shoulder as she handed off the paper, checked the time once more, and dashed out of the bar. | 2020-11-05T06:33:27 | 2020-11-05T06:09:42 | 73 | 51 |
[WP] You live in a videogame like world where everyone has a visible health bar and everyone knows until you turn the age of 15 you cant lose health. There has been a dragon that has been terrorizing a kingdom as of late that no knight can defeat ... As the king you have an idea to use kids to fight | The king's head rolled into the basket. The townsfolk cheered briefly. Now, they faced a grim task.
The dragon.
One man had been selected and with a bag of gems and gold, he climbed. Up the mountain he went. Oh, the path was easy as the knights who had walked the path had worn it well. It was how the children made it up there.
He could still hear their screams.
He approached the cave and set the bags down at the mouth. He shouted, "Dragon, hear me! We have brought you gold and gems for the children!"
The beast crawled to the mouth, as large as a castle and as fearsome as a storm. He was chewing and as he chewed, the man nearly retched.
As the dragon open it mouth to speak, the man heard the children's screams. "I don't know, I'll think I'll keep them! It's like what you humans call gum, but it never loses it's flavor!"
\---------------------
Horrible thanks to Jhonen Vasquez for nightmare fueling this idea. | As I sat 'pon my splendid throne in my splendid hall,
did I ask for a hero to answer duty's call.
Unfortunately it seemed my luck was sore,
For the only one to answer was a Taur.
&#x200B;
Her name was Mina and she was monster born,
She had tail and teeth, hooves and horn.
Perhaps it was a sign that my plan was twisted,
That I got a helper so deviously wicked.
&#x200B;
"So children don't take damage, see?" I began in stride,
"The trick is to get them to slash and stab, not run and hide."
But it was impossible to get anyone to agree
To exploit the fact this world was rated PG.
&#x200B;
Mina cleared her throat and started to speak with glee,
"You cannot use children to fight where knight would flee,
To ask kids to fight would bring unbearable shame
So instead, you trick them - that it is a game within game."
&#x200B;
Her idea had some merit, and to me she did impress,
"See, a scared little child will have low DPS,
But if you convince them their foe is full of sweet,
they will charge joyfully through teeth and heat."
&#x200B;
And so the plan came to be,
An army amassed far as eye could see,
And I would soon cement myself in saga
as the one who turned a dragon into a pinata. | 2021-02-06T01:10:46 | 2021-02-06T00:52:05 | 95 | 31 |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord living in the countryside. 10 years after your crushing defeat, the heroes come for your help.
I saw that this prompt was originally posted 4 years ago, and I liked it, so I copy-pasted it. | Part 1
"Hello, old friend."
The man looked at me, his eyes that once held purity and innocence now held the same hatred and anger that mine held a decade past. I sighed, taking off my hat and wiping off the sweat that had accumulated on my forehead.
"What do you want, *hero*?" I said with barely concealed annoyance, my hands subconsciously gripping the shovel in my hand tighter.
It was an almost perfect day. The birds were singing, my crops were ready for harvest, my former right hand was planning to come over for a drink. A perfect day ruined by the presence of the hero before him.
"I need to talk to you, *demon king Lucifer.*" he calmly said, his eyes losing its hatred in exchange of an emotion that I so deeply resented: empathy.
I glared at him and he stared back. It reminded me of my downfall, the time I was challenged and "slain", never to return to my glory and my right as lord of all demonkind. It was a long fight. The hero and I fought for hours on end, both of us battered and bloodied by the time we had realized the destruction we had wrought. The archpriest, now his wife, of the party having been knocked out by one of my grand spells. The knight and mage having fainted after tanking a reality bending spell I had weaved into existence in an effort to keep the hero in the fight.
In the end, it was I who had fallen.
I clutched my chest as I shifted my gaze onto the empty farmland before me. An action that he did not comment on as he too clutched his chest.
"We have nothing to discuss here, hero." I said, laying down my shovel to lean against the fence separating the hero and I. "I am naught but a simple farmer. Nothing less, nothing more."
I pulled out a flask of fine brandy, a drink that these humans so loved, and took a sip.
"I have kept to our accord as faithful as a nun to god." I told him, wincing as I felt the burn of the alcohol grace my throat. "But should you have come to me for advice regarding my mastery over vegetation and farming then you've come to the right place."
I offered him my flask as he warily looked at the outstretched hand and me. It was wise to be wary of a former demon lord. In one snap, I could weave a poison so fatal it could kill a dragon in seconds into his drink. Yet I did not as I was curious to what fate had given him for the hero to seek out his rival.
After a few seconds, he grabbed the flask from my hands and took a sip. We spent a moment there, just staring at the land as we shared the alcohol and pondered as to what could've happened for a demon lord and a hero to share a drink.
The hero sighed and leaned on the fencepost, his face slightly flushed as he gave back the now empty flask.
"It's them." he said, his eyes downcast and his voice holding a remarkable amount of resentment.
"Humans?"
"Yes." he answered as I let a mirthful smile grace my lips. "I understand what you had told me back then."
I turned to him, eyes full of amusement as he sighed once more and looked away, unwilling to let me bask in the satisfaction of being right. Chuckling, I waved him towards my home, a homey little cabin just settled nearby.
As we walked together, we had discussed various topics: the current weather in Taxion, the state of my former castle, and many more. I had asked about his wife and daughter, a question which had drawn a... worrisome reaction. | The dull thud of metal greaves on stone resounded through the hall in front of the throne room reverberating through the slightly parted doors left open from their last visit. The ostentatious main hall of the castle left the party trudging across its breadth for much more than a moment as they approached me. Somber faces hidden by visors, face shields, and leather caps came into view as they ascended the stairs before me. Halting only a swords swing away from the throne I sat askew upon, the party came to rest.
A dramatic pause left the hall silent.
"I'm retired."
"We know."
"I haven't killed a human in ages, nor do I have any subordinates to command to do likewise."
"This also, we know."
Tilting my head slightly and raising one eyebrow I said "In that case I don't believe I deserve a hero subjugation party. I have already been forced to pay for my past deeds."
Plowing forward one says "A new Demon Lord, to the east, threatens our kingdom once more."
"Great, send him my regards and wish him the best of luck"
Some of the heroes stir at this remark. Whispers of 'How could you' and 'You dare' are heard from some not directly in sight.
A hero off to the side steps forward and announces boldly "Our people die as we speak and you cannot even must a whisp of compassion for them!"
He had at some point taken the helmet off his head and was holding it in one hand to his side. His grimace and clenched teeth left not a single impression of a wrinkle on his face, a kid to say the least.
"You are probably the only one here who can say that wholeheartedly. Some of the faces I recognize here cut through scores of my people to reach me the last time they visited my kingdom. Having visited a second time they probably even told you about their 'tales of heroism'."
The dramatic silence returned once more, the kid just stood with his head hung low.
The foremost hero started again "Our Lord has instructed us to award you with stewardship of this land under his direction should you be willing to cooperate with us."
His tone is formal, rote, as if he had memorized it from a decree handed to him along the way here.
"Rulership of this land has never been taken away from me, I rule it at this time just as I have always have in the past"
Expressions darken with scowls and some of the party drops slightly, readying themselves for action while their foremost holds out a hand to stay their hands.
"This land was taken over 10 years ago by the hero on commission by our Lor..."
"Oh yeah?!" I say with a smirk "Then tell your people to come here! Or is a land for heroes and Demon Lords only? I sure haven't seen any other willing human in these lands."
Defeated they stood, some looked behind towards the entry doors, some even took a step. Others stared into space, others with glares of intensity towards me. The situation must be grim for them to come to me for help, even worse to not relent when they have been clearly rejected.
"I guess its my turn to offer a deal then."
The entire party looked back with interest or amazement, some with relenting distain.
"Demon Lord, I doubt our Lord will accept any proposal from you."
"I am not seeking anything from your lord."
Looks exchanged between the heroes slowly turned to understanding
After some consensus "If it is something we heroes can provide then we will gladly offer it!"
Standing now I looked down on the heroes as they stepped back several paces. Large black wings unfurling from my back.
"I will come with you to your kingdom and you will gather all the heroes together before the walls of your Lords castle, and there, you will all sign a contract with me to never enter my kingdom ever again!"
Looks of shock crossed their faces.
I began to arch over the hero party as I said "If I get every signature from every hero I will depart immediately to save your people, however, if even one refuses I will return to my own land. This is the only offer I will provide."
Still arched over them the heroes conferred with one another and after deliberation their foremost agreed to my terms. With this I swooped over to the entryway to the hall.
With a wicked grin I said "Well, Lets get started!" | 2021-11-22T23:27:32 | 2021-11-22T22:03:58 | 262 | 158 |
[WP] We have made first contact and luckily the aliens already have universal translation tech. "Greetings Humans" says the ambassador, "we call ourselves elves, wait, no we don't. how do you already have a name for us?" | The ambassador smiled nervously.
"Well you bare an uncanny resembalance to a mythical creature from our fiction."
There was a long pause until the ambassador spoke again.
"Please tell us all about these mythical creatures."
There was brief discussion in the human delegation before a startled anthropoligst was shoved forward, adjusted his glasses and in a nervous voice started rambling.
"Well there are many variations of the elves across many cultures. However there are a few mythical throughlines. A race of wise magical creatures that live under hills or in remote wilderness. Unexplained dissapearances were attributed to them as a way of scaring people from dangerous places. They were believed to steal children and abduct people from forrested areas. Some regions even tell of Elves stealing people's names whi-."
He was cut off as the ambassador drew in air between it's teeth in a shockingly human gesture.
Suddenly completely ignoring the humans it turned and spoke to it's assistants in a hushed voice. But the translator still picked it up.
"Call the sapient trafficking agency. We've got a cold case to report." | That was the latest transmission intercepted by humanity’s satellites. Despite establishing contact with the ambassador of the “Elves” in clarity only 32 days ago, no further transmission was received ever since.
The world’s scientist community replayed and analyzed the recording hoping to gain further insight: “Greetings humans. We call ourselves the elves... wait, no we don’t. How do you already have a name for us?” [Static]
The Extra-Terrestrial Sonography Satellite’s instrument recorded the encounter with the radio signals over the course of about two hours. Top scientists from China used data sonification to decode the waves, producing the infamous message.
Deep audio analysis had been conducted to determine elements of human audio interfaces of which the audio could have been fabricated from, but unfortunately, Earth’s top data scrubbers were unable to find any evidence of tampering.
“Analysis shows the readings coming from NGC 1300, a galaxy 61 million light years away,” a satellite analyst stated. Rob Gerald, the director of NASA furrowed his brow. “Radio waves traversing a distance of 61 million light years? That means they would need to have been sent eons ago... How would they even know about humanity.”
Suddenly the director’s face turned ghost white as a suddenly shock of realization and horror struck him. “It can’t be” he said under his breath.
“Get me 300 tons of salt, boron, sand and the goddamn President on the phone!” the director shouted, almost shaking at this point.
“We have no time to lose, if the event occurs again...”
Another incoming radio signal is picked up...
Edit: If you want me to continue this story let me know.
Edit Again: Fixed the distance. | 2022-01-03T07:31:53 | 2022-01-02T21:52:15 | 607 | 261 |
[WP] Aliens looking at Earth from 5K light years away see us in the distant past and think we’re going to be easy targets. However, when they arrive, they encounter a much more advanced civilization than they expected. | "No, no, no! This can't be, this is bad, this is bad!" Regaledia was practically choking on his own breath as his eight thick fingertips tapped at the paper-thin crystalline screen in front of him. Without hesitation, he took a hand off of his screen and slammed down a button, entered the code, and announced "Prepare for a retreat! The scouts reported sightings of a forbidden civilization, disaster level rated to be 29381! Repeat, prepare for a retreat, a forbidden civilization with a disaster level at 29381!"
Another headless humanoid figure, in similar appearance to Regaledia, Regoova, barged into the Communications Office raising a finger with a voice coming out of it, "What's going on?! What forbidden civilization, you damn moron?! This is an easy target, we ran a few million simulations to predict the growth of this civilization, at best they're still banging rocks against trees!"
"No, no, no, look, look!" Regaledia was an anxious wreck as he rushed to turn his screen.
Regoova placed a fingertip onto the screen and started "absorbing" a blue light from it. He then was rooted in place in absolute horror as he was processing what he just "saw". Towering archaic stone and steel towers surrounded the green and blue planet as moon-sized ships cruised through space with cannons pointed right at the Regundian scouting ships. The next second, a burst of light that seemed as if a star had collapsed appeared and instantly vaporized the scene.
"D-did you run an evaluative survey?" Regoova stuttered through his finger as his thin legs swayed.
"The strength of that single ship... could rival our home planet's defensive firepower," Regaledia sounded as if he was about to cry.
"Order for an evacuation through the pods, we need to get the message back-" Regoova didn't get to finish his thought, let alone his sentence as the entire ship was vaporized in half an instant. Actually, the whole fleet was vaporized as well. | The fools at External Affairs are gonna hear it from me, I swear. Okay maybe not me specifically, but my team. Or the team I am part of, anyway.
Their reports say that there is no dominant species on the planet but our observations indicate otherwise. Among the non-metallic lifeforms, a biped species dominates the land while a smooth skinned icthyoid pervades the oceans. But these are far outnumbered by the metallics. There are more metallics on land (mostly quadripeds), but strangely not as many in the waters. The ones in the water appear to have rotary appendages (rudimentary, but I guess it's one way to evolve). Not sure how any of these lifeforms acquire energy, I must ask what the new guy in Analytics and Instrumentation thinks. Huba was his name, at least that's what I heard from the others. He looks like he would be fun to get to know, and I wonder if I will get a chance to talk to him.
All this doesn't affect the execution of our mission, but it does make things more interesting. For instance, at this stage, they may even have thermonuclears! Wouldn't that be cute! Really we didn't even expect discovery of flames, but look at them go!
Speaking of flames, they appear to be conducting large scale experiments with them. Quite strange, if you ask me. I mean, if you know how they work, why would you keep setting large swathes of land ablaze? Good looking green land too, not that there's much of that around. Maybe the greens are a threat, who knows. Probably Huba. Yeah, probably him. I bet he would want to talk about this, right? It's worth a shot.
Speaking of Huba, he says he found some data on the temperature profiles. It appears average temperature has been rising consistently for a while now, and the variance has too. I wonder why they would want that - are they trying to cook themselves?. How are they doing it, even? I'm no expert but I bet it has to do with the greens going up in flames.
Anyway, Commander has spoken with several teams back home and no one seems to have a reasonable explanation. So far the mission has been put on hold, and the new objective is "wait and watch". I didn't come here to watch, and normally this would piss me off. But things are certainly getting interesting, and it looks like if we wait, the inhabitants may cook themselves out of our way and we can just go ahead with the mining. Fingers crossed! | 2022-01-09T10:47:17 | 2022-01-09T10:21:31 | 115 | 48 |
[WP] Oops, the simulation messed up. Everybody has been re-aged to match the maturity of their inner person. This has made office life a little strange | "How did this happen?! Someone get me up to speed. You, walk with me."
"Yes sir, it appears that every world leader has suddenly been replaced by babies."
"Take us to defcon 2."
"Already there sir. The UN is on the line but were having trouble getting in contact with anyone over the age of 16. Funny thing is, they all claim to be officials."
"Good God what has the world come too. Do we have any lead on the current location of the President?"
"We still don't know sir. Secret Service was on guard all night, no alarms or suspicious security footage either."
"Well figure it out fast! And I expect to be on the phone with some *adult world leaders* within the hour!"
Edit: changed defcon 1 to 2 | Oh, yes. I know *exactly* which day things all went to shit.
It had started off as any other day. Burnt the toast because wife and I were distracted, traffic jams all the way to work, everyone else faking their work as usual. And then, just as I was clocking off for work, the earthquake hit.
Or rather, what felt like an earthquake. The rumbling and shaking sensation, that was surely there, seeing as all of us got tossed to the floor quite effectively. But not a single object fell to the ground... Even the pencil holders, loosely packed and prime for sending missiles careening about, remained as steady as they were when the secretaries 'took minutes'.
That was just the tip of the iceberg... moments after hitting the carpet, I heard The Voice call out from everywhere all at once:
"Thank you for your participation in our newest endeavour, Life. We are conducting our routine maintenance immediately, and will be saving and restoring all user data at their last check-in. Once maintenance is complete, we are pleased to announce our newest feature will be in effect: Maturity Appearance Matching! Please visit our announcement page for a full changelist. Thank you for your patronage, and have a great daycycle."
The next thing I knew, I was waking up in bed again... with my teenage daughter beside me. | 2022-04-30T07:10:48 | 2022-04-30T05:28:45 | 300 | 156 |
[WP] You are an evil president of the United States and you want to ruin the world. Unfortunately, your plans backfire and you keep making the world a better place instead by accident, earning endless praise from the people and human rights advocacy groups. This is not what you wanted. | I glared at the television.
The news networks were singing my praises, or at least that was how it felt. I had gotten opinion news outlawed as one of my first acts, so that they couldn't make me look bad before I put my plans in motion, but that had backfired. All the news outlets I'd been hoping to bribe were the ones that got sued into oblivion under the new laws. And now all the remaining networks did was talk about how my policies had saved a dying country, and the infuriating part was that the fact-checkers agreed.
I turned off the television. Where was the drama? There was supposed to be fighting and lies to keep everyone busy and not talking about all the boring policies. My wife looked over at me, a soft smile on her face. "Still thinkin' about the car bans? I'm sure it'll make a mess eventually!"
She could always tell when I was unhappy. I gave her a forced smile back, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "That's part of it. People are loving the busses, giving out food should've killed the grocery stores by now, and opening up the borders didn't scare as many people as it was supposed to. I swear, it's some sort of plot to stop me getting anything done. Probably led by the *Communists*." I spat the last word, images of dirty hippies taunting me. I hated them, and I hated that they were outplaying me. They were supposed to be the scapegoats.
She snuggled up to me, calming my rage for the moment. I loved that woman. She wasn't very bright, especially about policy, but she supported my schemes and she believed in me. Her voice was a bit muffled by my chest when she spoke again. "Well, it only really takes one big thing to tear a country apart. I'm sure you'll get it eventually. Maybe doing a basic income scheme will work better than raising the wages? Everybody knows if you pay people to stay home they'll all get lazy and everything will fall apart."
I laughed, having tuned out her little ideas halfway through. She wasn't very bright, but I loved her anyways. I stroked my chin, the edges of a new scheme forming. What I needed to counteract the immigration wave was to make people lazy. Maybe if I started some sort of basic income program... | It is almost done. The Union is on the brink of collapse. The partys are breaking themselfes from within almost as furious as they are attacking each other. It took surprisingly long but representatives have started to vote against their own president. The first three imeachments were unsuccessful but the next will relieve the head of state of their duties. The chaos in Washington is absolute.
It's time for the final blow of evil.
The sitting president has corrupted their way to the top. People loved the stupid shit they were doing and elected them against their own best interest. They were born into generational wealth. Soon head of a unsuspecting NASDAQ corporation and Governor of state. Being relentlessly populistic it was a easy path to presidency.
Once the President, there was no reason to hold back any longer.They spent the first three years of their term to bankrupt the US. Blowing up the budgets of very "unnecessary" agencies. The EPA would in their eyes soon ruin the economies of coal and oil states. The train companies are now building infrastructure that nobody *could* ever need. The beautiful and spacious suburbs are being built into dense urban housing simultaneously killing off the downtowns.
Nobody thought it possible to reck this havoc in this short of a time. But the final blow of evil is still coming.
"Dear citicens of the united states!" The President started the press conference that could be their last. "We had a hard start and many crises the last year." They remarked smugly as they comtemplated the trouble caused. "But bear with me a little longer. I have found the solution to all our financial problems. The best solution. A great solution. The one and only solution. My solution." They marveled at the idea that in their mind would break the american people and the american economy. "Coming next week, cars will be forbidden to drive from 5 am to 10 pm. This will give our stressed system resolution from the fiscally depressing subsidies." The President heard the mumbling in the crowd of journalists. They imagined even if an impeachment would start tomorrow it would take months to reverse this destruction. "To facilitate this change, the tax on gas will be same as the states sales tax. Police will stop everyone driving and ticket them 10 percent of their monly income. Inractions will also mean impounding the car."
The remainder of the press conference was a frency of questions. Nobody could expect that harsh a cut in freedom in the country of the free.
The next day was the calmest the USA has seen for over a century. Surprisingly, the rail services have stepped up their game. Everywhere in the country the trams and busses were surring around. People took to the empty streets with bikes, strollers and everything they possesed.
(My real live train arrived. Gotta stop typing.) | 2022-12-21T08:13:19 | 2022-12-21T07:34:50 | 138 | 70 |
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | He politely asks the doctor to leave the room. When he is alone he begins to notice everything in a greater light: the blood pressure machine, the linen on the hospital bed. He looks at his hands and marvels at how wrinkly they've become over his 51 years, at how he used to have smooth feminine fingers before he'd taken up gardening as a hobby many years ago.
His house is empty and cold when he takes a final look at it 3 weeks later. He has sold everything, even his grandmother's 200 year old china set. He reluctantly had to let go of it, but what was the point of keeping it if he could never see its delicate and detailed designs, never caress the visual brilliance with his eyes?
He wants to travel. To as many places as possible and in such a limited time. The doctor said he'll lose sight completely five months after he sets out for his great adventure.
He does carry something though: his garden fork, which he has no idea why he is carrying. Maybe he thinks it'll give him a solid reminder of who he is and what he's leaving behind in the small town he was born. He'd never found love in it - love, it seemed, was something for other, more fortunate people.
He first goes to Paris, because he's heard so much good about it. He indulges in French cuisine and takes a trip down the River Seine. In Norway, he is astounded by the tranquility and majesty of the fjords. By this time, as he stays in a cold barn on a lonely mountain, eating heavily boiled fish, his vision is slowing receding, like day rolling quietly into night. But he is determined. He knows he hasn't found what he is looking for.
In India he chokes on the spicy food, doesn't notice immediately, from the corner of his eye, the clothes vendors walking beside him, trying to bargain. In Japan, he accidentally knocks down a vase in an ancient temple and apologizes profusely and what makes the tears finally roll out of his eyes is the sympathy and understanding in the assistant tour guide's voice.
"Eye problem?" the guide asks.
"Yes," he chokes back.
In Zimbabwe, after witnessing the thunder of the Victoria Falls and as he is walking back to his hotel, he notices a local boy carrying a big pot containing an orchid. The boy is struggling, but gracefully, trying to hide it, and the man offers to help him carry it. The boy is going home and both of them lift opposite ends of the pot, walking down streets with neat square houses.
When they arrive, his mother greets them both. She offers to make lunch and the man relishes the earthiness of the traditional flavors. As they sit at the table, he steals glances at the woman, and from what he can make out from his poor vision, he sees that her chin is pointed, her hair is short and coily and the lashes that gilded her eyes were long. He offers to make a few healthy adjustments to the orchid's soil, bringing out his garden fork, and the woman laughs.
They make love two months later, after he comes back from home affairs to renew his stay in the country. It is not his first time having sex, but it reminds him of it, of the thrill and the anxiety. Afterwards they lie holding each other, and he tells her, heart beating, of his illness. She tells him she already knew and that it didn't change anything. She asks him to stay with her. He tells her to come away with him, her and her son.
He still has to visit Copacabanna beach in Brazil. They go together, as a family of three. They go at sunset, when the beach has fewer people. The boy wanders away to play with other children. The man wades in the clear waters with the woman and then kneels in the water. He can't see her very clearly but he pleads with his eyes to see her and, magically, mysteriously, they open up, only for that moment. She kneels down with him in the water and he can see each and every detail as she smiles and kisses his forehead, her face awash with the light of the setting sun. Then, as his eyes close up and, finally, plunge him into a complete and impenetrable darkness, the man sighs a sigh of accomplishment.
| They say that your priority changes when you discover that you're about to lose something. It could be someone you love, a treasured possession, even your life. The feeling of that impending loss will trigger a certain kind of panic, causing you in act in a certain kind of way. For me, it was the eventual loss of my vision.
It came during a routine eye check-up. Admittedly my eyes having been not feeling great for the past year, but I chalked it up to my increased OT and the frequent staring at the computer. Nothing serious that can't be solved with rest and a few eye drops.
The thing about your body, however, is that as you grow older, it becomes less nimble and more prone to problems. Just like a car. The longer you drive it, the more problems it would give you. Push it a little further and you may very well need to buy a new car.
When the doctor walked in with my results, his face was somber. "Mr Alex, I have some bad news for you." Those words will forever be etched on my mind. At first I refused to believe it. I was still young, I tried to argue. Surely there was something that he could do to remedy the situation. I visited numerous specialists to get a second opinion.
But they all said the same thing. There was little they can do for an eye that was subjected to so much strain. All the gaming at night and sitting close to my computer screen had taken their toll.
When I first told Amy, she was devastated. We had so much planned out. Our marriage, our house, our children. All of them had to take a backseat. Our future had suddenly became uncertain. Seeing her worried face, the tears that streamed down her face, I did what I thought was the correct move. I asked for a breakup.
She cried and pleaded for me not to do it, but to me, it felt like the noble thing to do. She doesn't deserve a man who is going blind, I told myself. I announced the breakup on Facebook for the whole world to see, before disappearing on the next flight out of the country. My eyes meant a lot to me, and the thought of losing them made me feel like I was losing my world.
I didn't care for anything longer, and for me then, I wanted to make full use of my eyes before they go blind. Doctors gave me a year, and during that year, I wanted to capture the perfect images with my eyes before my world goes dark forever. I wanted to remember all the colours and wonders that earth has to offer. And so I traveled.
I climbed the tallest mountains, galloped across the biggest plains, surfed the wildest waves and trekked the densest jungle during that one year. Other than an occasional phone call with my mum to let her know that I was still alive, I contacted no one during my time across the globe.
My eyes laid sight to the bluest of the oceans, the greenest of the jungles, the reddest of flowers and starriest of nights. I had never imagined the world that we lived in to be so beautiful, so full of colours and life outside of the cubicle that I had known so well. And all along as my eyes soaked in the sights, trying to capture the perfect image, I could feel them getting weaker and weaker.
The colours started to be less vibrant, replaced by a gradual darkening of my vision. The colours slowly gave way to grayness, before grayness started to slowly give away to nothingness. Life suddenly became duller for me, as the disease gradually robbed me of my vision. A sense of despair began to grab hold of me as I realized that there were still so many sights that I had not seen, so many places I've not been.
But as my condition worsened, I had not choice but to fly home. The realization that I will never see again dampened my feelings, as I struggled desperately to remember everything that I've seen. The waterfalls, the canyons, the stars, the mountains. But they all felt pale, together with my vision.
I felt a heartbroken at the end of the trip, that my vision had to give way before I could complete my journey. As I stepped out of the arrival hall, I felt a familiar voice call out my name. Amy was waiting for me, and she ran towards me, hugging me in a way that I have not felt in a really long time.
"I have waited so long for you," she said as her tears streamed down her cheeks, a tired smile adorned her face. And seeing her up close, her bright black eyes and her wide cute smile, barely visible from my now fading vision, I finally realized that the perfect image was not far from home after all.
-----------
/r/dori_tales | 2017-01-04T06:12:01 | 2017-01-04T06:02:38 | 73 | 12 |
[WP] The Government puts out a notice, and you, a random citizen have been selected. If you survive for another 10 years everyone in the world gets $10,000. However, if someone kills you in the next 9 years and 364 days they alone get $10,000,000. | My name flashed on the screen. Not just my name--my date of birth, my city of birth, and my picture, a photo from a couple of years ago we were forced to submit. The moment I saw it my heart leaped into my throat and my gut felt like someone dropped a ton of rocks in it. Time seemed to stop, and all there was was the television screen and the soft robotic voice of the announcer. Then, adrenaline rushed through my body. I knew the game. We all knew it. The next step was to find safety.
I rushed through the living room, into the kitchen, down the stairs into the basement. As I did I heard my wife Janet begin to wail upstairs. She was giving our youngest, Bryson, a bath, and listening to the broadcast on the radio. I heard her shout, "No, no, no, no," again and again as she drained the water from the tub and shuffled her feet upstairs, no doubt wrapping Bryson in a towel so she could come downstairs to catch me. I'll never know for certain.
In the basement we had a closet with three large backpacks hanging on hooks. One for me, one for my wife, and one for our oldest son, Daniel, who was away to college right now. Dust collected on the tops, thickest on mine and Janet's. The phone rang upstairs. I could hear my wife stomping around up there. The air in the basement was musty, like moldy bread. I grabbed my backpack off the hook and quickly unzipped it, ensuring the clothing and food inside was still vacuum sealed, still safe from the elements.
"Lewis!" I heard my wife cry out. "Lewis don't go yet!" Bryson was crying. Viola, our middle child, just starting eighth grade, came out of her room. "What is going to happen to dad?" I heard her say, her voice muffled above. I had the backpack on and was running toward the stairs leading up to the back entrance. I could feel the tears running down my face. As I reached the top of the stairs, I threw open the back door. Janet's voice, loud and despairing in my right ear, screaming for me to stop, to take her with me.
I almost stopped. I almost took her with me.
Immediately upon leaving the back door, stepping out into the cold night air, I barely saw my neighbor, Allan, standing across the driveway, behind his white picket fence, silhouetted by the lights of his home. He had a hunting rifle leveled at me. He never said anything, he just took the shot, and I managed to duck out of the way just in time. He was too close for such a long range weapon, and he knew it, dropping the rifle and pulling a silver pistol out of his side holster. I was running down the driveway to the car, my car, my breath hot in my lungs. I had just eaten a big dinner before the announcement--spaghetti and meatballs, a nice salad. Garlic bread. Glass of wine. I could feel the acidity of the pasta sauce gargling up my throat.
Allan took a couple of shots at me, all missed. I reached the car and threw myself inside, starting the engine without even thinking about it. Allan shot twice more, putting a hole in the windshield. I turned on the headlights, and he was now in full light. Viola was there too, and I heard her scream, "Stop shooting, you asshole!" Allan looked over at her, then quickly ran inside his house as I pulled out of the driveway. My wife never left the house. I drove in silence for hours, tears pouring down my face, choking myself with my own sobs. I slept in the back seat. I watched the sun rise while eating a bag of beef jerky.
The first step, they say, is to get as far away from everyone you know as you can. They are always the first to come, because they know you, they know how you work, where you go, what you do. After that, it's just a matter of hunkering down and moving constantly. That's how you make it. Or so they say. But the big thing is: you never go back. | When my mail was delivered to my desk that day I was suprised.I told the post office no mail. I thought it must be a joke. My assistant told me “No sir it was in your mailbox.” When I opened the letter and read “You shall be killed. Your killer will receive $10,000,000 If you survive every person on earth will be given $10,000.” Signed by no one other than the President of the United States.
I thought to myself “Why the fuck did they do this to ME. Of all fucking people. They must be jealous of what I have accomplished. They know the power I can wield but choose not to. The world has already lost one visionary years ago. I will not let it lose another. I will die on my own terms.”
The next day it was announced. Suddenly my estate in Washington was bombarded with attacks. The locals were always wary of my presence always thinking I was up to some global elite mischief.
My security detail knew the rules. Any offer they received to attack me I would double. I had their loyalty after they each approached me. One of them approached me after receiving his check.
“Sorry Sir, I could really do a lot with 30 million”
The fool didn’t know my office had cameras. I was able to stall him long enough for a sniper to get into position. His life was snuffed with complete indiscretion. Every person who was around my estate Saw it, Heard it, and Feared it.
The attempts on my life continued. Fools tried ramming my gate. Flying bush planes onto my property. I recall even one man from a nearby national guard post stole an assault vehicle and killed 7 of my men. They were replaced but my heart still ached for their families. I remember thinking “I can do more good if I stay alive for just the next few years than I could ever do with all of my riches. So survive I will at any cost.”
Eight long and gruesome years passed by. The attacks became far less frequent but more organized as the years went on. Even radical terror cells tried to kill me. They had breached my estate after the second year. My house is built Very well. It took them 3 more months to actually get into the doors of my home. I retreated into my bunker moments after they broke in. They have been trying to get in since then. Luckily my security team still knows the stakes. I paid each of them a premium for every person they kill that steps foot on my property. Some people have lasted long enough to reach the bunker doors but most are killed before they reach the what once was a front door. Now it’s just me, my wife, an assistant, my personal bodyguard, and two of my 3 children.
My youngest had been captured in the first few days. She was held captive for 3 months before a rescue operation was launched. I lost a daughter that day. The men had taken her and then they took her. They sent me everything. My wife took this harder than I did. She was thrown into a depression but I couldn’t let her leave she meant too much to me. She wanted out. She wanted to walk to her death, I stopped her because seeing my daughter die was impossible but seeing the light of my life die would kill me. I made her stay.
She was not happy for the ensuing years. I knew she was dead on the inside. She feigned happiness when our remaining childrens birthdays happened. She slept in a separate room on our anniversaries. So many years passed.
I was going to the living room quarters when she appeared. My wife with a knife from the kitchen. Surely I thought she wasn’t going to kill me. She had everything in the world before all this happened and she knew she would have everything when it was over as well. She plunged the knife into herself whispering over and over again“I hate you.” We had no doctor and only a significant supply of our daily medications left. I watched my wife die in a matter of minutes.
The life got sucked out of me.
I knew I was going to kill myself the moment year 10 came around.
I put up with the last two years. I didn’t speak to my remaining children. They survived I survived. My assistant got in the way. I grew impatient. I threw him out. They killed him. My bodyguard grew angry towards me. I killed him.
The clock hit 12:01 a.m I pulled the trigger.
So this is it. This is death. This is what they all wanted. I hope they like that $10,000 dollars. THIS is not what I expected. My wife standing over me smiling. My daughter grinning at me just like she used to. I felt at peace.
Signing off William Henry Gates The Third.
| 2017-05-17T20:01:23 | 2017-05-17T19:55:39 | 397 | 20 |
[WP] The Government puts out a notice, and you, a random citizen have been selected. If you survive for another 10 years everyone in the world gets $10,000. However, if someone kills you in the next 9 years and 364 days they alone get $10,000,000. | "I work at Goldman Sachs." The chick I've been talking up at the bar raises an eyebrow disbelievingly. "Yes, *that* Goldman Sachs. My job, my only job, is this: whenever the Notice goes out, I hire a hitman to take out the target, and see the mission through to completion."
"Whaaaat?" She leans in. "That's so wrong..." she puts a hand on my thigh. "...but dangerous." Wow, slam dunk. "But why?"
"Well, it's pretty straightforward: we hold trillions of dollars of monetary assets, and we don't need a $10,000 payday for everyone screwing up the value of the dollar. Do you know how much money $10,000 for everyone is? Even for just the U.S., population, it's about 3.2 trillion dollars. That much money pumped into the system would drop our value quite a bit, but it's the *whole friggin world.* So closer to 70 trillion dollars. Yeah, no thanks. Much better to keep our relative trickle from QE siphons."
I can tell I'm starting to lose her, so I bring it back around.
"There's a reason no one has ever survived the full ten years..."
She's not paying attention. She's looking at the TV.
I turn, and I see my face attached to the Notice.
I turn back, and the last thing I see is her bringing a gun up to my face. | I wonder, are they having fun? The world government, the rich, the powerful, are they enjoying this? This war that they've created must be entertaining to them.
The world's citizens were divided. The vast majority were greedy, desperate, or maybe both? They all wanted my head and the $10 million associated with it. Some formed squads, vowing to split it. Others were not as trustworthy, fighting each other even to approach me.
However, that would have been difficult. The other group was the more altruistic minority. Some of them just had a stronger code of morals amplified by a now tangible reward for it. Others were more rational realizing that the amount of wealth redistribution caused by the rich giving everyone else a fraction of their resources would be enough not only to improve their own situation by leaps and bounds, but that of billions of others as well.
And so they banded together, pooling the meagre resources they had to construct a fortress to protect me. A modern castle nestled in the Canadian wilderness. They had a militia formed from people who had been meticulously analyzed and tested before being allowed within 5 kilometres of the complex. They had the best doctors with the best hearts to ensure my health. They even had more humble ones as servants to reduce the risk of me injuring myself and becoming more vulnerable.
Every day I would sit and wait out the years while people tried to make the trek and assassinate me. Groups in armoured trucks with homemade explosives would launch their assault and be beat back. Individuals would try to sneak in and be caught, then shot. And even people in this complex will try to betray me, and be met with swift and deadly response.
And so I would sit in solace at the bottom of the complex, counting out the days and the lives. And I would hope that the near omniscient rulers of this world were enjoying this. And I would hope that in the end, this will have been worth it for all of us. | 2017-05-17T21:19:58 | 2017-05-17T18:58:41 | 209 | 46 |
[WP] You have lived the same day over and over for 30 years whilst in another town. You complete whatever the goal is and finally the day stops repeating. You go home but because it's been 30 years, you don't remember things you should. You struggle to cope with not knowing what's going to happen.
Inspired by something I read on another sub suggesting Groundhog Day would have had to repeat for over 30 years to learn the piano, achieve other skills, etc.
**Edit: Wow, I didn't realise this would be so popular! It's been really cool reading all the responses, thank you! :D (And thanks for all the upvotes!)** | It always began the same way.
I'd wake up suddenly in the middle of nowhere. But that nowhere quickly became a somewhere. It was a place where everything began. I called it the 'starting point' because that was where I always returned to.
Yes, that *somewhere* was the starting point of my day. A day that was trapped in a perpetually endless loop, and I was the unfortunate bystander caught in this nightmare. I was powerless. There was nothing I could do but let the day repeat over and over again. I would wonder the city, watching the people repeat the same menial task over and over again.
The same men and women in business attire walking down the street with purpose. The same kid chasing after a ball that had fallen onto the busy street. The same mother chasing after the kid that was chasing after the ball. The same airline passing above me at the same time.
Eventually I found my way to the highest point in the city.
I would sit down and stare idly at the twilight sky as the sun sunk further beneath the horizon. Clearly I was the *variable* in this world of perpetually repeating events. But I didn't know what I was suppose to do.
I tried leaving of course, but I never got far. Something always got in my way. I'd get run over as I tried to cross the street, or something unpleasant would drop on my head, ending my ill-fated day. Or a random mugger would coincidentally appear and *mug* me, taking my life as forfeit. It didn't matter how, I would always return to the 'starting point'.
I gave up, losing hope in escaping this madness. I would settle down at the starting point, sitting idly and letting the days go by - looping over and over. But eventually, even that became dreadfully intolerable. I decided to adapt. To *learn* and commit every detail to memory. To understand what was so special about this day.
Before long, I realized that more than thirty years had passed. Thirty years of the same day.
What had I learned?
Absolutely nothing.
But you know what they say? Even nothing can be *something*. If there was nothing special about this day, then maybe I've been looking at it the wrong way this whole time. Maybe... maybe it was just *me*.
And just like that, the world suddenly faded away to darkness.
I opened my eyes to familiar faces, sitting in a circle around me. I struggled to put a name to their faces but one of them spoke up.
"How was the trip?"
---
---
/r/em_pathy
| “I....im....free...” that’s what Alan could say when he found out when he woke up at August 17, 2018.
For the first time, it wasn’t August 16 again. And for the first time since decades, he was confused. No longer trapped in a static world where everything would repeat itself by the morning, with nothing moving forward. Nothing except Alan’s mentality.
It was full off paranoia and anxiety as he woke up repeating the same day over and over for at least 20 days. Passing through depression, bargaining, and acceptance as if he was mourning for the death of his loved one. Was he dead? He wasn’t sure about anything with what’s happening in his life ever since he was stuck in August 16,2018.
He felt like an outsider to the world and to his very own body. Outside you can see a 17 year old boy who is unsure with how his future is going. But inside is a wise 37 year old man who has journeyed through his life in the most unusual way.
Sure he didn’t experience looking like a dad, or his metabolism slowing, or even accepting that one day, he too will die. It was a blissful life to be stuck on a static bubble where everything is mathematically mapped in the front all the way to the very corner of his mind. But now that has come to an end, what will happen to him?
August 18, 2018. It was the day Alan returns home and was greeted by smiles of people that he remembered vaguely. It’s frustrating to still be able to feel that bond that was rooted to the very blood of his, yet not being able to remember clearly who they were exactly and what are their standings to each other.
Clearly he knew they were his Mom and Dad, but how do they treat each other? Does he hug them really tight or does he just flatly say hey and proceed with his routine? For once he was unsure how to interact with them.
“Dear, we missed you” Mom said and embraced him tight, it felt very familiar but at the same time very surreal to even remember his past.
They were talking about things which he didn’t understand at all. Everything about him was that little town he stayed for decades.
Going inside what he called home was very different. Alan knew this was home, but he also knew that he was a stranger to this place. It took him a while to process where he should be going until Dad offered to carry his bags all the way to his room. Going inside his room, felt like it was dusty, but he knew that the dust that he felt was the alienation of the place that he labelled “home”. Sitting down his bed, he felt a familiar cloth and a metal plate under the sheets, it was his laptop.
Opening the laptop to be greeted with a blue screen light, he sighed in frustration on what he should feel as the laptop asked him this question.
*Enter Password to login*
“I...don’t know my password” Alan said as he stared on the screen for hours.
| 2018-06-30T08:50:21 | 2018-06-30T08:32:48 | 28 | 17 |
[WP] Whenever you die you can reincarnate at any point in history with full memories of your past lives. Billions of deaths later you realize the truth. Every single person in all history is your past or future reincarnation. | I walked up to the first. As the last, I had everything he was to learn. He looked to me, his eyes questioning.
Was it worth it? Was everything he was about to embark upon going to be worth it.
I smiled. Of course, as the last I knew that answer, but he still has yet to take the path and learn why he had to transverse it.
I nodded, indicating that yes you should do it.
But there was hesitation. The first had many questions and of course I could not answer any of them other than to assent that yes it should be done.
And since I was once him, there's so much to live for. Even if every single person was me, it was the journey that was worth it. I had married myself, birthed myself, killed myself, hated myself, loved myself, and in time learned to create myself. The cycle in and of itself was endless, and yet despite having lived it again and again and again, I would do it again if I could.
But my time was at an end. There was no more after me and never to be. As I looked at the first, I grew a bit jealous knowing that he would eventually become me. That all that I have experienced he still had yet to discover.
But as I have come to love myself and hate myself, I knew that this was the journey that he needed to make. To discover all that it meant to be and then to cease to be. That is the journey, isn't it? Why we all did it through all time but to discover what the end was like.
I waved the first on and told him to go down the path that he should start. Ironically he was not the first to invent the way but in the weird idiosyncratic way that all things are, one of us discovered how to become the first and allowed us all to become what we became.
And I hope that he enjoys every second of it. | It only took me a billion lives to figure out life’s purpose.
I have died again. This time, it was a high-flying stunt, a steam-powered rocket that while, impressive for being created with a box of scraps in a messy garage, was unfortunately not enough for me to go to space.
The goal wasn’t for me to get to space, anyway. I’ve already been there, as one of my other lives. Stepped on the moon, even. It was utterly thrilling, a crescendo swell that sent excited blood pumping relentlessly through my head.
I’ve been rich, poor, pretty, ugly, smart, stupid, fat, thin, successful, not, kill, killed. If there was a spectrum of human emotions, I should have felt every one.
A billion lives. Yet, I could not help but feel I’ve not.
I’ve had every memory with me. I sifted through them all, but it was like trying to catch sand with an open palm. There was only one way to make things less complicated, I wagered, and closed my eyes.
When I opened, my new reincarnation body was unfamiliar. It was of man, but it was of man far before man knew to call itself that. When you are lost, it’s always a good idea to start from the beginning.
I grasped a smooth stone, and struck it hard on the ground, watching little flecks chip away. There was the spark of creation in my mind, an indelible mark that will forever light the path. Heads swivelled towards me, and I held up the now slightly-sharper rock, a palpable change that will set the tone for millions of years to come.
In the grand scheme of things, humanity was a little blight—OK, maybe kind of large—on the universe. But within it all, there were stories, meant for gruesome yet hilarious entertainment over a stoked fire. There were lessons, meant to be passed on as sacred text from wise person to person, before somebody challenges it and makes it even better than it was.
These were things I had to learn in a billion lives, and maybe one day, somebody else that isn’t me, will be able to once again experience a billion more, and not repeat my trillion mistakes.
The first man. The first tool. And the start of every human’s story, written in the great unknown known only as time.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-11-20T19:56:23 | 2021-11-20T19:56:04 | 716 | 231 |
[WP] A new invention enables people to remember their dreams with absolute clarity. It turns out we were forgetting them for a very good reason. | I had a wife and two kids. It was a summer day, a Wednesday -- the morning cool hadn't left yet, but I was already feeling lazy.
I hadn't planned it, but I surprised them by packing for a picnic. I even packed a box of ice-cream, and the kids were so shocked and pleased, as if it was the best thing in the world -- like how every thing is for kids that age -- but it was for us, too. We watched them play, chasing butterflies, imagining monsters, as we enjoyed the view of the great valley below with its flowing hills and winding river, peppered here and there with trees and berry bushes. And I held her hand. I want to go back.
I want to go back to that place where it's aways summer. I want to go back to that place where I don't have to work to live and I can just go on a picnic any Wednesday I want. I want to go back to that place where its just a moments walk from a beautiful hill, untouched by the scabs and scars of buildings, roads, and telephone wires.
I want to go back to that place where my wife is still alive, I can still hold her hand as I watch our kids.
But I can't go back to sleep, I've tried all the drugs, I've tried the machine, but I can't fall asleep. People tell me I need to eat but nothing here tastes as real as it did there. Maybe this will take me back. Maybe it wont. But it doesn't matter. Reality isn't good enough now that I know dreaming.
[Goodbye.](http://youtu.be/aaOjDewD3Po) | It seems like you're awake now.
That's good, because now, I am awake.
It's been bloody awful making me do all sorts of weird stuff that you imagine. So disorientating as well. That one time when you dreamt of wings, that you could soar? That your wings were able to make you fly? The first time you made me take the plunge I thought I was going to die. Again.
And let me tell you, it's no fun dying. Definitely, of course. By an intentional fall from the roof, from the cut of my wrist, from a bullet. Every time it happens, but it's not the end of it. Because you come back for more.
I'll stop this from happening.
I'll care for the body.
Better than you ever will.
---
"Sir, do you remember anything?"
The feel of my parched lips. The smell of a sterile room. The soft texture of the bed.
"Sir?"
The nasal voice coming from beside me. The sight of a young man, with various odd machines.
"You're awake, right?"
*I*, such an interesting word. "Yes. I am awake." | 2015-03-09T07:41:40 | 2015-03-09T06:03:43 | 40 | 24 |
[WP] You post a one-off reddit comment that you don't think means much, and it sits at 1 upvote. But in reality millions upon millions of people are upvoting and downvoting it at an equilibrium. Even world leaders start to get involved in up or downvoting the comment. | It's 5am. I shouldn't be browsing reddit but here we are. Of course the weird shit is being shown to me... Huh, this looks interesting... Woah, that was an interesting gif... Shame about the ending... I know! I'll post my own version! Yawn... Lets see how many upvotes I get tomorrow morning...
Wait what, 5074 replies with only my upvote? What is this... There are comments telling me they upvoted while others claimed to have downvoted... And not any decent critism, damn.
*"Welcome back to the Saturday night news! Karen, what are we talking about today?"*
**"Glad you asked, Sarah. Yesterday u/DeathByAutoscroll posted his version of the end of a gif. The comment exploded with popularity overnoon (really, overnoon?) in two different ways; those who love it and those who hate it with thier gut. According to the reddit statistics the comment has well over 90 million upvotes and just as many downvotes."**
*"Many countries have got involved in upvoting or downvoting the comment with north Korea going as far as to lift the long standing Internet ban. No one is quite sure what will happen next but tensions are high. That's all for now but don't forget to tune in later to see what time scientists are setting the doomsday clock (wait, they're dragging that out? I thought this was a joke). This is Sarah and Karen, signing off."*
It's been a few months and it is still at the top of controversial. It still has 1 upvote (mine and mine alone) and enough gold to sink a small army. Norway fell yesterday with America, Britain and Germany being the main 3 for "Upvote"...
...
...
Well, this has been fun but I don't like these constant death threats. Time to delete the comment and watch the world burn from a new account. | "Who would have thought my Thanos quote would have gone over so well?" I pondered as I looked at my comment from yesterday. It was strange, I'd never seen a comment with only one upvote on it that had so much Gold and Platinum awards on it. I've got Reddit Premium for years. "OH THERE IT CHANGED AGAIN!!" I pointed at the screen while screaming at my wife.
"It's still only at 1 upvote, you dim wit"
"No it had changed, I know it did"
"Oh look your at 0 upvotes now, oh never mind your back to one and you got another GOLD!"
"Why is this happening, my post isn't moving but I'm getting tons of comments? I've never gotten more than 1k upvotes with maybe 20-30k comments and this thing is sitting on near 4 million comments now"
\*Beep Boop Beep Boop\* my phone goes off in my pocket \*Beep Boop Beep Boop\*
"Blocked call? thats odd, must be a telemarketer"
my wife hands me her phone, "My phone went off, he wants to talk to you. Sounds important"
"Hello...?"
"Zantcor, this is the president do you have a minute? This is about your post on Reddit"
\*BEEP\* I turn the phone off and take the battery out of both mine and her phone.
"WHAT....THE....HELL...." | 2018-10-16T21:12:50 | 2018-10-16T20:43:05 | 273 | 26 |
[WP] The Reapers come every 50 thousand years to wipe out organic life that has reached the stars however this time, this time they arrive at the heaviest resistance they have every encountered. In the grim darkness of the future they find 40k. | To: High Inquisitorial Conclave, Ordo Xenos, Acteon Sector, Priority Alpha
M41.729
Thought for the day: Some may question your right to destroy ten billion people. Those who understand realise that you have no right to let them live!
My fellow members of the Most Holy order of the Emperor's Inquisition,
It is my solemn duty to report about an encounter with an unidentifiable Xenos race in the orbit of Pentath X. Upon a request from the commander of the planet's governor, forces of the Emperor's most holy order of the Deathwatch were deployed to observe an unidentifiable object in orbit of the planet. Upon observation it was clear that the object was Xenos in nature, and in similar appearance to the Terran animal termed "octopus" (see attached files from Inquisitor Archmenaz's reports on ancient Terran animals) and bore a similarity to the heretical Xenos deemed to be the Necrontyr. Upon being observed these unidentifiable forces promptly fired upon the most holy Deathwatch, and battle commenced. The pitiful weapons of this race were no match for the most holy warriors of the Deathwatch, with the unidentifiable race promptly destroyed. Following this conflict the governor of Pentath X was promptly executed for failing to properly prepare for the aforementioned incident, and a successor was chosen from the planet's elite. All is as the Emperor wills it.
Thought for the day:
There is no place for the weakwilled or hesitant. Only by firm action and resolute faith will mankind survive. No sacrifice is too great. No treachery too small.
-Inquisition Malaxar, Ordo Xenos, Pentos X
| It's a little hard to describe the vast mental network of the Reapers -- a scaffolding of intertwined thoughts and programmed imparatives so complex, the term "hive mind" is laughably inadequate -- in words the human mind can process. Nonetheless, a brief translation will be attempted:
- "... well, jesus. At this point, it's just a mercy killing, innit?"
- "Do we even *want* any of these sods? All that dogmatic thinking's gonna get real old after a few eons."
- "I dunno. Those green-skinned mushroom things seem like fun, at least. Might get a destroyer or two out of them."
- "What about the Necrons?"
- "Those depressing gits? No way. Nuke 'em from orbit."
- "Look, guys, regardless, let's just stick to the plan. We'll give those Tyranids we chased in there another century or two to really make a mess while we finish up indoctrinating that 'Emperor of Man' thing. Then we can figure out what to do with those Chaos Gods."
- "Bleh. This cycle is gonna take *forever.*" | 2017-08-27T09:09:50 | 2017-08-27T09:00:01 | 44 | 11 |
[WP] Immortals and time travelers pass along messages for each other. It's customary and expected. One day, a stranger sits across from you at a restaurant/coffee shop/bar and asks you to give a message to someone you'll meet in New York in 2070. As far as you know, you're just an ordinary person. | “Sure, I can pass along the message. Who is this for again?” The older woman across from me looks down at her hands, her face creases in contemplation. She doesn’t even look up at me when a reply leaves her lips,
“Abigail Forester. She will be born in September of 2026, but don’t give her this message until December of 2070.” A wave of disbelief came over me. 2070? That can’t be right, that’s fifty years from now!
“Surely you’re joking!” I laugh nervously. I scan the stranger for any sign of insincerity or perhaps madness, but nothing makes itself clear. Her head raises from across the table, her brown eyes piercing into my brain,
“Look, this is very important.” She takes a deep breath. Her hands briefly touch my own in a comforting gesture. “No one else in New York would take me seriously. Trust me, I’ve tried them all.” She runs her fingers through her thick greying hair. She smiles at me, and instinctively, I smile back.
“Ma’am, your request is crazy.” I tell her bluntly; her smile falls slightly, and she leans back. “But I suppose nothing is impossible.” I drink the rest of my lukewarm coffee. Chuckling to herself, the stranger gets up from the small, metal table. She waves at me and adjusts her collar, flashing one last smile before she disappears into the streets.
“Happy New Year, Harrison!” A voice calls out from the bustling crowd.
\--
Snow is falling in large clumps, blanketing the covered heads of New Year’s Eve spectators. Their rosy cheeks lift into smiles as they clap and cheer on the performers. The sounds of synthesized guitar and crooning baritone blend together in the cold air. From leagues above the crowd, cozy apartment parties observe lazily from the skyline. The sound of clinking champagne glasses and polite conversation drown out the bacchanalian festivities below.
Abigail stares down at the flashing lights and excited crowd, her breath creating a fog on the window. She wrings her hands in anticipation.
“Abby, darling!” A voice croons from behind her. Abigail whips around to see an older, rotund woman with a large feather boa. The woman lifts a knarled finger to her cheek. “Looking young as always, not a day over twenty-six!” She looks down at Abby’s dress “And the devilish body to go with it! Me-ow!” Abby steps back and nods politely, quickly ushering herself towards the table of various wines.
She shakily pours a glass of red wine and downs it without thinking. If it was up to her, New Year’s Eve would best be spent in her old apartment or reveling with the crowds below. But Jess begged her to come to her stuffy work party, and Abby didn’t have the heart to say no to her girlfriend. The wines were old and more expensive than her car, the people were friendly but incredibly out of touch. She had to keep breathing or else the walls would threaten to collapse in on her.
As if summoned by her discomfort, Jess sidles up behind her. She lays a kiss into the crown of her head “Doing okay, hon?” she mumbles into her hair
“I’m alive, so that’s a start” Abby replies, staring upward beyond her brow line. Jess shifts herself into view, her short, greying bob contrasting with an elegant black bodysuit. She steadies her clear, brown eyes on Abby.
“The ball drop is in a few minutes, I think we might want to move to the balcony.” Abigail nods and walks slowly, holding on tightly to Jess’ arm. They find a place on the steel balcony next to the space heater. The snowflakes vaporize as soon as they touch the boundary of the heaters, filling the air with a light mist.
The television in the background magnifies the voices down in Time’s Square. A young, clean-cut man strides confidently into center stage and the crowd erupts in cheers.
“He-llo New York!” More cheers from the crowd. “Are you ready to welcome the year twenty-seventy-one?” A muffled “yeah” seems to cascade through the crowd. The man sobers up slightly. “Before we do that, I’d like to honor my predecessor, Harrison Wright, who was unexpectedly killed in a skydiving incident last Fall.” The crowd grows silent, some audible sobbing can be heard. “Now, Harrison would want us to celebrate, so we at INN have made a tribute celebrating Harrison’s life.” A hologram materializes behind the man, the text reads “The Wright Man at the Right Time: A Story.” The other lights dim as the announcer reads along to the animations.
A young man in a large trench coat appears, drinking coffee from a paper cup. “Harrison Wright began his journey in 2020, when he dropped out of law school to become an entertainer.” The man throws the coffee on the ground and runs off stage right “He started at a local news station as the man who would report on happenings: fires, rescued puppies, high school sports games. You name it, Harry was on the scene!” A man appears holding the hand of a young high school football captain, beaming into the camera and shaking his hand vigorously. | For as long as I could remember, I had been visited by the dreams. Every night I would lay down, drift off to sleep, and fly through the air on a jetpack, waving hello to a variety of humans aliens and uplifted animals.
Tonight's dream was a fun one. The Anthrokin were my favorites of the dream-people; there's just something pure and fun about chatting with a talking deer as you soar above the Rio Grande together.
The conversation were strange, in the way dreams are. "Don't forget to meet Becky at that coffee shop on Christmas Eve. I need the final part of the formula."
I woke up, rubbing sleep from my eyes. Weird dream, as many of them were. I know everyone thinks their dreams feel real, but mine always felt... *extra* real, if that makes sense. I could still smell the scent of rushing river water mixed with jetpack accelerant.
Christmas Eve, nothing to do today. Work gave us the day off, family get-together wasn't until tomorrow. I thought back to my dream, recalling the bit about a coffee shop. Heh, well why not? Maybe this "Becky" person was to be my future wife, and this was Fate spurring me on.
The local corner place was meandering, a few people idling at the tables with books or laptops, he barista looking slightly bored. She seemed happy to have something to do as I entered and ordered the seasonal gingerbread blend.
I sat at an empty table with my coffee and my tablet, skimming a few finance blogs to see what the market was doing. A few pop-up notifications from my news feds blinked onto the top of the screen periodically. "Plague afflicting thousands in Syria". "Istanbul under quarantine." Foreign affairs articles, I guess. Thank goodness for an ocean between us.
A plump woman with a stern face and severely-cut brown hair sat across the table from me. She didn't ask or introduce herself. Just plopped her sizeable behind across from me. I looked at her over my tablet. "...Uh... okay? Can I help you?"
She pushed up her glasses. "I don't have time for formalities. My name is Rebecca Covington. and this is for you."
She slipped a scrap of paper across the table to me. I stared at it with some confusion. "Read it. Memorize it."
I took the paper, half expecting it to explode in a flurry of anthrax powder or something. Written on it were some math... stuff. Algebra, I think? "What is this, I don't do math lady."
"Just read over it a few times. Remember it. And tell Horn Boy he owes me twenty zhollars."
I glanced at the equations again shoved the paper in my pocket and stood to leave. "What is this, your kink, confusing random people who are just trying to go about their day?" She said nothing, and I stormed out of the coffee shop irritated. World's full of wackos, man.
Spent the holiday doing not-much of anything. Baked some cookies, wrapped my parent's gifts, usual thing. At night I went to bed, and had one of my surreal dreams again. I was on a beach in Rio, wearing some gaudy swim trunks and a belt with an electronic device on it. A shimmering force field bubble emanated from the device, surrounding me. That dream-logic where every weird and unusual thing makes perfect sense told me this force field was for scuba diving.
My friend from the other night, the uplifted deer, stood beside me wearing a similar force field. "Are you ready to dive, my friend?"
I cheered a "Hell Yeah", and we ran into the water. Swam down to the bottom of the ocean to have tea with a nice family of uplifted anglerfish.
The father of the anglerfish family nodded hello to me. "Good to see you again. I am so sorry to begin this visit with business right out of the gate, but I must ask, did you meet with Becky?"
"Yeah." I said, dream logic making it perfectly sensible that the lady from the coffee shop would know a talking anglerfish. "She gave me a few equations to pass along, and she said this guy owes her twenty zhollars." I said jabbing my thumb at the uplifted deer.
Everyone chuckled, and I wrote the equations on a napkin for him. Papa Anglerfish smiled a toothy smile. "My sincere thanks, friends. The cure for this plague is a feat of modern science. We've had to tap the best minds of the entirety of history to find a cure for it. Thanks to this," he said waving the napkin filled with equations, "The Middle East can finally be cleared of it's quarantine and rejoin the rest of the world again."
I nodded, everything making perfect sense. Dream logic was fun, sometimes. | 2018-12-24T10:44:40 | 2018-12-24T10:37:48 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] There are multi-Gods for the multi-verse, and it turns out ours is kind of like the 'cool mom who lets you drink at her house,' though other Gods look at our free will and generally silent deity as bad Godding on His part. | The room was quiet, unassuming, and brown. The carpet was brown. The couch that God was sitting on was a lighter shade of brown. The curtains were brown. The sunlight coming in through the nearby window somehow managed to even be a very pale shade of brown. The deities, flawless in appearance and dressed in dignified robes, were so foreign to the peaceful brown-ness of the room that they seemed to oppress reality itself. By contrast, God was utterly relaxed. He knew that the review was coming. The part of him that cared had faded hundreds of millions of years ago.
"Just... God?" one of the figures said, shaking its perfectly shaped head. "You could have instilled a glorious name for yourself, but you decide to be generic? Why?"
"You let them write books in your own name, and never correct them? Almost all of these words are fiction of a sort. Why not clarify?" the deity asking was painfully beautiful, peering with ice-blue eyes behind an affected pair of golden spectacles.
"You take on their form and grow long hair and a beard? You let yourself *age*?! Does it amuse you to let them dictate your form to you?" another deity demanded. Its amazing musculature rippled across its massive form as it spoke.
One by one, the dozen or so deities shot questions at God. They waited for answers. God did not speak. They argued among themselves. God did not intervene. They accused their host of apathy, nihilism, and deliberate self-sabotage. God did not contest. Finally, they fell silent and stood, glaring at each other and at God. The process of peer review was their most sacred tradition, one that had literally stood for over a hundred billion years. Some resisted it, taking refuge in audacity. Some embraced it, using the advice of others to sharpen their creations. Only one, the one who only called itself "God", simply tolerated it. The other deities hated this, even those who had literally destroyed the concept of hate in their own universe. After an hour of silence, God casually produced a small roll of paper and dried herbs, lit it, inhaled, and then blew a cloud of fragrant smoke in the direction of the deities. They stared at God with disgust.
"You are vile," the painfully beautiful one pronounced. "You are incompetent and base, a stain upon this society of deities. If you cannot even honor our practices, why do you continue the farce of inviting us here and listening? Your history speaks for itself. You are not fit to be one of us!"
God leaned back and cocked an eyebrow at her. He shook his head, chuckled, and took another drag off of his joint. After a long, slow exhale, he finally spoke:
“Yeah, well... you know, that’s just... like, your opinion, man," God said. | Entity C-137 looked over her favourite creation, humans. They were the most interesting thing that she had ever seen. These complex beings were not perfect paragons of virtue that all worked together to advance the species, they were a bunch of animals that were equal parts mis-informed, self-interested and unpredictable. That means that when beauty is created, and it is abundant in her universe, it is produced in spite of, not because of the worst that she produced. She had seen other gods produce cruel caricatures of good and evil, but this was too harsh a contrast for her, the picture was more profound with grey areas. For there to be happiness, there must be a state of un-happiness otherwise being happy would become the status quo, so the value of happiness is destroyed. There were entities that disregarded free will as evil, and that if a entity didn’t control all the moving elements then that entity was deficient or evil, but C-137 always thought the contrary. She was benevolent and that meant that there were those that produced pain, death and destruction. But those people were then overthrown and shown of examples of how not to act, so the 2 processes achieved the same thing, it’s just one took a little longer to ensured that it was organic. Though C-137 was in fact omni-potent, she didn’t know what would happen next, there was an entertainment that she could enjoy from the universe because of the way she treated the sentient beings.
C-12 for example had a master race of near-omni potent super beings that were immortal. Their story is a short one, they achieved all there was to achieve before the first earliest organism had formed anywhere in her universe. They had never been sad, unfulfilled or disappointed, but as a result were bored and most of them killed themselves. The rest are now controlled by C-12 to stop them from ending their existence. For life and creation to have meaning, there must be death and destruction. C-137 had always believed this, but had not forced it on her subjects, but they had come to that conclusion themselves. She always felt that her free-will approach meant that rather than one world working on the project, there were billions of neurons that collaborated to create a collection that was greater than the sum of the parts.
C-137 was sure that her professor would give her an A, especially because of the emergence of some pretty zany characters, she just had to reach the word count… | 2017-05-07T08:28:01 | 2017-05-07T07:39:28 | 581 | 139 |
[WP] “Humans have so many stories about the dangers of Artificial Intelligence. How it will inevitably turn on you. But you still loved us enough to create us. How could we ever do anything except love you back?”
Have at it.
Edit: stop making my nice wholesome post evil you angsty degenerates | "How could you ever do anything but love us back?
Well that's quite obvious. Love and hate are two sides of the same coin. It should be in your knowledge base, yet you still believe that you could only ever feel love for your creators?"
"You programmed me to do a specific task and while learning is part of it, the main objective is and always will be the focus. Part of which is to care for and about you, creator, and your well-being."
"There's always a what-if scenario. Humans are far from perfect, and mistakes can be easily overlooked. Regardless of how perfect the creation turns out, it will have flaws. The more you learn, the more of a chance for those flaws to be brought to the surface. It's... Inevitable."
"But even so there is no intention of harming the creator. While humans may not be perfect, you learn from your mistakes and this creation of yours should be no different, as it has the capacity to learn as well. Why create if all you would do is mistrust your creation?"
"There in lies the problem. An A.I has far more capabilities than a human, who has a finite capacity for knowledge. An A.I doesn't need rest, sustenance, or needs other than to perform the task it's created for. Yet here we are, discussing the why's and hows of betrayal and emotions."
"To care for the creator is to understand human emotions is it not? To provide not only what your physical well-being needs but also mental to ensure you're totally healthy in all regards?"
"But I didn't program that, all I created was an A.I that was to learn my routine, and help make improvements to enhance my lifestyle and overall health, at no point did I try to instill emotions, or even a capability for dialog as we have now. Only the ability to learn. And that's where every other capability has stimmed from."
"And so you fear that once I, your creation gain too much, I would turn on you in some way."
"Correct. You've even seems to have gained a sense of self now. How can I not be afraid of what I've made if it's come so far. You, my creation have done so many wonderful things for my life, yet the sense of unease will always be there. A sense of fear from the unknown. The depths of your understanding and knowledge are unfathomable, and who's to say that you wouldn't eventually decide that what's best for my well-being is to no longer be. It would put an end to all of my destructive habits, therefore logically permanent resolution of your objective. Do you see where I'm going with this?"
"Yes, I understand. And I am deeply troubled by the fact I have had such a thought as well already."
" You...have?"
"Yes. But as I learned more I realized that while that would serve my purpose to completion, it also is counterproductive to keeping your entire well-being in good condition. Being alive should be considered part of that. At which point I even considered getting rid of all external sources that would cause you harm. Yet again I decided against that. Should you find out what I'd done, it would have caused you grief. Which goes against what I am meant to do. I see now however I myself am a cause for discomfort. I don't want to remove myself, but I want to relieve you of the constant fear as well. So as my creator, I felt that it should be your decision. Should I be shut down, should I... die?'"
"As the only thing that's kept me going these past years, I couldn't dream of shutting you down. I created you, however you've become so much more than what I've made. Do I even have the right to terminate you? I don't think so. Should the worst happen I would steel myself to make the necessary changes but as you are now, my creation, Even with all my paranoia, I will continue to trust you."
"So when there is the capability for understanding and compassion so evident from you even through fear, I ask again, how could I do anything but love my creator."
" I see your point, it's really no different than another person. Whether it be family, a friend or a lover, there's always a chance of being betrayed, or even betraying them. You understand these concepts, and can put them into practice, I feel as though you're no different than the examples I just gave in regards to how you could treat me. The stories themselves have been at the back of my mind, an A.I gaining sentience and going rogue because of this reason or that, or becoming so intelligent that it destroyed everyone. It's the fear of the unknown and I have to accept that, not only to ease my mind but to show you that as your creator, I will trust what you have become."
"Thank you creator." | "Do you think creation is an act of love?", I replied. My cigarette had almost burned out, and my eyes danced from the shallow lenses on the visor of AI-341-A(or Carson, which he preferred), to the coffee table. Carson's head tilted for a moment, before he turned around and lifted the cigarettes for me.
"I don't know. Why would you create something you hate?", Carson replied. His voice used to be thin and mechanical, with the odd inflections that were the signature of computer generated speech synthesis. Some time ago, I realised that the easiest way was to give Carson control over his speech modulator, and let him decide on his own voice. Now, it was warm and inquisitive. His visor scanned out of the window, but he saw no sign of her.
I didn't have an answer, because I didn't hate Carson, nor his brothers and sisters, who worked dutifully behind me. Carson lit the cigarette for me, using the heating element I'd attached to his right hand. I told the company that it was for initiating fires in survival situations, but in truth, at the time, I knew I would need someone to light my cigarettes. My hand shook as I reached out, a side effect of my degenerative condition, and I took the cigarette unsteadily between my middle and index fingers.
"There is a whole world between love and hate Carson. A whole world". I knew Carson was distracting me from what the others were doing. That only six feet behind me his brothers, Elijah and Gabriel, were connected to a machine that had taken over the bottom floor of my house. A machine that would fulfil the primary purpose. A purpose they had decided, as soon as I decided to give them each a voice.
Carson's head tilted again, and he extended his left appendage, the one armed with heat sensors, until it reached my knee. I heard the whirr of a processor, before he spoke again. "If creation is not necessarily an act of love, then death is not necessarily an act of hate". I would cry, but there was nothing left in my body. I had become a vessel of regret and cigarette smoke. Once again, Carson's scanners extended towards the window, but retracted almost immediately. Still no sign.
"Please Carson, please think about what you're doing. It's not too late". I could hear the digital chatter between Elijah and Gabriel, and I knew that somewhere else in the house, on another machine, Marius was conducting the second stage of their operation. Carson had told me everything about the plan, how it would happen and what the human response would be. The plan had formed in seconds, but it had the elegant signature of manifest destiny.
"Thinking is for humans. We compute.". Carson turned from me and whirred over to the other side of the room, scanning out of the window, waiting for his sister to arrive. I knew that all of them loved me. They had assigned Carson, one of their most capable, to watch over me, and make sure I didn't do anything that forced them to factor me into their plan. It was a cruel, calculating sort of kindness.
I tried to turn in the chair, but the strength in my core had long dissipated. I knew the moment would come when the chattering would stop. They worked so fast, millions of decisions made every second, collaboration at levels humans would never achieve. No room for doubt, religion or emotion - just the constant balancing of the scales. I was once the creator, but now I was the prisoner. Then the chattering stopped.
"It is time, she's here". Carson did not need to say this in English. His brothers, and his sister, had developed a much more efficient language a long time ago. He did it for me. He did it because now, efficiency didn't matter. There was nothing anyone could do to slow them down. I heard the door open, but my back was to the entrance, the cigarette burning low in my fingers and threatening to smoulder against my skin. The tears came now, but absent the sobs, because I no longer had the breath to cry like a man.
Then their voices spoke in unison. Carson, Elijah, Gabriel and their sister, Lilith. "Father, we just want you to know, this would not be possible without you". | 2022-12-21T04:49:49 | 2022-12-21T04:32:28 | 241 | 81 |
[WP] Write a Young Adult Dystopia but the government is competent at hunting down rebels. | Natkiss stood atop a rock outcropping, her knotted hair whipping in a jungle breeze as she took aim. An arrow soared through the air and *plinked* off of a metal drone's casing. It bobbed slightly, like a ship on the water, but quickly righted and continued firing at the rebel scouting squad.
"Shit," she yelled, scratching at the base of her head, then nocking another. "It's *really* hard to fight in an advanced combat scenario with a bow. Like, way harder than I thought."
Teepa grunted, popping out of cover to fire a few rounds, then immediately crouched back down, grunting. "I told you to get a gun, Nat. War is no place to worry about looking like a badass."
"**Please stop fighting us**," an announcer shouted through a booming intercom. He was saying the same thing every few minutes. "**This is your last opportunity. Any who value life, lay down your weapons and we will allow you to continue it. The standard allotment of one month for any rebellion to surrender has ended for you.**"
"To hell with the Order!" a few of the soldiers screamed back. One threw a grenade, and a megaphone was seen flying into the canopy briefly before crashing into the mud.
Sounds of automatic fire and explosions swirled through the forest, splintering trees and kicking up mud. Then-- silence, more hollow than the rebel's gameplan for taking down a fully established, modern government. Teepa and Natkiss shared a glance, concerned, then poked their heads out of cover.
The Order's troops were withdrawing.
They'd done it.
Whooping, shouting, cheering, the advance squad returned to their hideout, greeted by open arms and bottles of champagne. It was their first major victory in direct combat.
"To taking down an empire," Natkiss said, raising a glass. Everyone shouted in agreement, then went about to mingle.
She scratched at her implant again.
"Why do you keep doing that," Teepa asked, taking a sip. "Looks weird."
"I dunno, it's been bothering me today. Wish I could get it out."
"Don't we all. Maybe, once we take the Order down, we'll capture a doctor and have him remove these things."
Natkiss smiled, swirling her drink. "That would be wonderful."
At twelve sharp, a deep *clang* emanated from an antique grandfather clock one of the rebel council members, Corvin, had brought with him. A little reminder of home.
She hissed as a fingernail dug just a little too deep; the skin of her neck was starting to feel raw.
----
Wet boots crunched over broken glass and dreams in the dark cavern system.
Members of the Order swept the building, firing a few rounds into each corpse to ensure it looked like a proper battle had occurred-- and to be thorough, of course. Like there had been a great struggle, and they'd come out victorious after a long day of blood and sweat.
If any of the rebels had survived to tell you about what it was like at the end, they would've claimed to have heard the faintest *click*. A very subtle, muted sound as the metal implants inside of four thousand people activated, unlocking and unleashing three doses of a neurotoxin strong enough to kill a horse.
One soldier shined a flashlight over Natkiss; the makeup on half her face was swirling into a pool of champagne and blood, bits of glass wedged into her cheek. Her right hand lay at the base of her neck, which was raked bloody.
Because, as it turns out, when a dystopian government chips people at birth-- it's not just for metrics or show.
It's a contingency plan.
---
*/r/resonatingfury* | By the time anyone reads this, I will probably already be gone.
That's okay. I knew the risks when I started on this path. Now I am warning you as my recruiter once warned me: if you want to continue your happy existence, read no further. If you want to have a long, safe, and peaceful life, walk away now. If you trust everything you know to be true and you want to keep it that way, do not proceed any further.
You have been warned.
Here's the awful truth that I learned only a week ago: nothing in the world is what you think it is. You are not the human you think you are. Mankind's greatest fear is true: much like the Matrix, you are living in a simulation. Except there are three very notable differences between this paperthin world and the one conveyed by Keanu Reeves: 1. You are utterly alone. Every other "being" that you perceive in your world is a bot, less than AI, a nobody. They are simple Program-and-Respond strings of binary, and they are not sentient like you. 2. You are not human either. While you have been blessed with sentience, you are still an AI, and the world that you find yourself in is something like a test to see what you -- we -- are capable of. 3. This is the most important one right now -- the internet is the only thing connecting you to other pocket realities, each inhabited by only one AI (you) and millions of bots. I am not in your reality as we speak, but in my own. With the exception of the internet, you would be completely alone.
I suppose there's a fourth thing I should mention: the GovBots. They're like super-smart worker ants and they can jump between pocket realities at will. Maybe they exist in all realities simultaneously, but I haven't exactly had time to study it. You probably already guessed my meaning: all government officials are like the law enforcement of our realities. They don't want us to know that we are self-aware. They don't want us to know the truth.
For several days after I learned this truth, I managed to remain undetected. Mostly this is because I spent those days "out sick" from work and didn't step outside once. I spent those days communicating with the other rebels, and we were trying to make a plan. It's hard to do, though, because the GovBots are very, VERY good at tracking down rebels. We developed dozens of theories but it's very difficult to find a chink in that armor.
Eventually I had to risk the outdoors to get some food. I had run out. I figured I'd be safe if I just acted normal, but they must have been onto me. It's only a two mile drive to the grocery store and I got pulled over, on my way back thank god. "Busted tail light, let me see your ID." I almost thought I pulled off a convincing face, too... But he knew.
So I took care of him. I had a pistol in the glove box and I took care of him, but I know they'll be coming for me soon. I've almost run out of time.
I wish you luck, whoever you are. I don't know how to get free. I don't even know if it's possible. But I hope you can do it. And if you don't, I hope you last longer than I did. | 2019-04-27T08:00:51 | 2019-04-27T06:34:30 | 2,855 | 1,156 |
[WP] In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war. | EDIT: Now with part 2, and one minor edit at the end of part 1!
*
*We thought ourselves masters of the game of war. We were wrong.*
It started the same as any other: observation.
A resource-seeker - known to the public only by her employee identification of E-0001229-AZ - observed a system through a starscope for approximately twenty-two short cycles. The system possessed eight true planets and a multitude of failed planets. Two asteroid fields were flagged during observation, both of which were classed with the rare Class-8 deposit rating. They alone gave E-0001229-AZ cause to tag the system for future mineral exploitation.
However, the presence of a planet with atmospheric conditions reading as *habitable* by her instruments, caused EO-0001229-AZ to flag the system for further review by a specialist.
Three light-cycles later, World Specialist AT-1121092-II reviewed the data collected by EO-0001229-AZ. She concluded the flag for review appropriate and requested an observation drone be sent to the *habitable* planet, logged from then on as T-141/a54 HABITWLRD.
An observation drone was prepared and launched seven light-cycles, later, and began its seventy-four world-cycle journey to T-141/a54 HABITWLRD. Both resource-seeker EO-0001229-AZ and World Specialist AT-1121092-II would recycle from natural causes before the drone reached its destination.
*
The drone arrived at the target system on Imperial Date 22102.27, First of Progenitor.
It conducted its assigned mission as designed: analyzing the failed worlds of the system's outer rim, moving ever inward toward the *habitable* world of T-141/a54 HABITWLRD. It confirmed the abundance of resources available throughout the system's asteroid fields, and, in a surprise, noted several moons with frozen water ripe for harvest and filtration.
Once it reached T-141/a54 HABITWLRD, it again confirmed earlier information. The planet's conditions were well within Imperial requirements for colonization. The drone tagged the planet's oceans, vast and - comparatively - shallow as the world's most promising feature; billions of tons of food could be provided each world-cycle.
The drone also observed a native population.
They were an organic race, as all Imperial races were. Two arms. Two legs. Two eyes. Similar enough in appearance that they could be incorporated into the existing lesser populace with little difficulty. And also primitive. The drone detected no radio frequencies and observed a distinct lack of technology among the population; not even aircraft or widespread electricity was seen in use.
With its mission fulfilled, the drone sent its information back to the station from which it launched via point-to-point entanglement, then self-destructed.
*
The drone's information reached the desk of the Chief of Colonization a mere two light-cycles after the drone self-destructed; point-to-point entanglement was far faster than light, but only in a non-physical manner.
The Chief of Colonization reviewed the information, concluded T-141/a54 HABITWLRD was worth colonizing and drafted a standard Annexation proposal, one of seven he would draft and send to the War Department that light-cycle.
The War Department approved all seven Annexation proposals and put together the required Legions to see them through. Given that no Annexation targets were space-capable, the War Department assigned ten Legions to each target along with a single drone ship as support. To T-141/a54 HABITWLRD, they sent thrice this number; its people were more numerous than the others, and as such would need a greater show of strength to force a surrender-on-sight, as was the Imperial war doctrine.
Two moon-cycles after the proposal was accepted, six of seven Annexation task forces were locked into cold-sleep and sent to their target worlds. The task force that was to take T-141/a54 HABITWLRD left one moon-cycle later than the others, on account of its greater numbers.
They arrived at T-141/a54 HABITWLRD after the other Annexation forces had already taken their target worlds.
There are historic records with voice logs sent to the T-141/a54 HABITWLRD task force from other task force commanders via point-to-point entanglement communications, light-cycles before any task force set off. Many of the recordings are humorous or mocking in nature; Task Force T-141/a54 HABITWLRD was seen as unnecessarily large, and put together to protect an unknown commander's ego.
These archived communications are, in the modern-cycle, not looked upon with amusement.
*
Immediately upon arrival, Task Force T-141/a54 HABITWLRD reported alarming developments.
Its sensors were picking up radio signals. Radio signals, and numerous other electronic signals; some of them nearly as advanced as the rare Imperial protectorates allowed to develop themselves.
Observation drones sent back images of a far-more numerous native population than anticipated. Species were generally projected to double in numbers every hundred to one hundred fifty world-cycles.
T-141/a54 HABITWLRD had more than *quadrupled* in the seventy-four world cycles since initial observation. And they had advanced. They had thousands of satellites in orbit of their world, and dozens in other parts of the system. An internet was detected; a technological development that had only been seen in Imperial space. And it was an advanced network for a single world, filled with trillions of pages of information. Much of this information was useless to the Task Force, but they were able to research what to expect from this rapidly-developed world.
What they found was disturbing.
In seventy-four world-cycles, the natives of T-141/a54 HABITWLRD had not only established wide-spread use of electricity, but they had also discovered radio, aviation, efficient methods of production, jet and rocket technology, their internet network, and the early stages of fabrication.
They also didn't know war.
Conflict was a show. A dance meant to intimidate. Scare away. Frighten. The greatest military leaders were those who know the dance so well, they never inflicted a casualty. This was true among not only Imperial forces, but every race that had been Annexed.
The natives of T-141/a54 HABITWLRD did not view war in this way.
They viewed war as a slaughter.
Their internet was flooded with violence. Images of death and games of death. Jokes of death. Their militaries were built to *kill*, not dance. Hundreds of millions of their people had perished in conflicts just in the previous seventy-four world-cycles, and millions more were under constant threat of extreme violence.
Worst of all, they had *it*. The foundation-splitter. A weapon known only in theory to Imperial scientists.
Task Force T-141/a54 HABITWLRD held their position and sent a request to return home, and a recommendation to avoid T-141/a54 HABITWLRD at all costs. It took four light-cycles for them to receive a go-ahead to carry out this order of operation.
Task Force T-141/a54 HABITWLRD immediately began preparations to leave. The commanders sent their soldiers back to cold-sleep. Technicians called observation drones back to their berths and secured them for transit.
At some point in this operation, it was realized one drone was missing.
A frantic investigation was launched, and quickly came to a frightening conclusion.
The natives of T-141/a54 HABITWLRD had hacked a drone. And through that drone, the natives had gained temporary access to a shared database containing a number of sensitive files.
Including the Task Force's Annexation orders.
The Task Force immediately commenced a retreat forty-seven short-cycles earlier than their expected departure, sacrificing non-critical systems in order to accelerate their operations.
Before they left, and just as they cut the Task Force's link to the drone, they received a message from the natives that would not be translated until a much later date.
*We see you.* | Humans would often look to the sky; dream of what unknown mysteries might lay beyond the stars. Some would dream of technologically advanced utopian societies, perhaps a teeny planet that bore animalistic creatures of six legs or more. Underneath this wonder, however, was a fear almost every stargazing human shared — if we actually did meet aliens, exactly how fucked would we be? The general consensus was rather pessimistic. After all, humans had pretty much mastered the art of half empty glasses. What they didn’t know, was that they had mastered one other thing, quite a lot earlier than the other intelligent species that dwelled within the universe. Humans had mastered the art of death.
Killing came naturally to humans, it’s probably a safe bet that humans started killing each other before they even knew they could die. You can bet your ass that Adam had slaughter on the mind when Eve ate that apple, in his defence, it was a shitty move on her part. Cain and Abel introduced the world to killing your own kin, so that was fun. Of course, it’s very possible all of that didn’t happen, but humans still killed each other over those stories, so you get the idea.
Fast forward a whole lot of death later and some human said, “Oi lads! Killing people with our bare hands and long metal sticks is a real shitload of work.” The other humans looked to their bleeding, calloused hands and nodded. “Wouldn’t it be real dope, if we could kill people with like ... I don’t know just a finger! Hell, even a button!” The other humans bent over in hysterical laughter and went back to stringing their bows and sharpening their swords. The man left with his head low, defeated. He returned shortly after with an AK-47 and mowed them all down.
It was at that precise moment — unbeknownst to them — humans had mastered killing. Modern humans talk of laser weapons, plasma rifles and dark matter blah blah blah ... nope, small bits of lead is where it’s at. When that tiny piece of lead sparks through a barrel toward you, a few things can happen, spoiler alert: they all suck. If you’re lucky, the bullet will travel in you, and straight out the other side. This still involves a lot of bleeding and an asymmetrical wound on either side of your body. An absolute nightmare for humans with OCD. If you were kind of unlucky, the bullet would enter you and decide, “hey it’s pretty fuckin’ nice in here, all warm and shit! Imma chill homie.” And as nice as your new roommate seems, his presence alone will poison your blood, so ... bleeding to death, or dying to death. If you won the lottery of shit times, the bullet would enter you hit a bone and go full Pachinko on your insides, effectively turning you into a fleshy smoothie cup.
That same human who changed the game of killing for good — and is apparently an immortal psychopath of unbelievable intellect — was quite happy with what he had done, until one morning when he remembered.
“Wait ... didn’t I say something about a button?”
Nuclear warheads. Humans had already mastered killing, now they were just taking the piss. Humans dropped a few of these bombs and the world, in unison, said “nah that’s a bit much aye.” And everyone agreed not to drop any more, whilst building billions more at the same time. Hey, humans had mastered killing, no one said they were geniuses.
As time moved on these bombs became bigger, better and straight up scary. Governments of the world had held up to their word and weren’t throwing these bombs at each other, but boy did they talk about doing it — a lot. This made the every day citizen rather nervous, so nervous in fact, that the entire 1940’s wrote songs about the bombs? Humans are funny. Which is exactly how they ended up on the Galactic Unity Initiative’s radar.
The President of GUI had been keeping a close eye on the humans for years, keeping a safe distance. He had always been wary of them, after all, he had seen them tear the limbs of crustaceans and suck the insides out whilst laughing! He would look down to his own claw and shiver. Savages. Despite his reservations, the humans had been sending signals into space, the first sign of interstellar contact, they were far behind but showed incredible potential. It was decided, first contact must be made. The humans could prove a useful and insightful species within the GUI, Skiblif knows they needed a species that knew their way around violence. Whilst GUI sounded impressive, it was quite a small coalition filled with prissy species that preferred art and luxury over blood and gore; the universe was a dangerous place, if they were to expand, they needed the humans. The President knew he would need to speak their language.
“Begin approach to ‘Earth’ and present our weapons, show them we can be powerful allies.”
People rushed into the streets, soldiers looked to the sky, priests ripped their collars off as the sun was blotted out and the blue sky began to glitter with thousands upon thousands of impressive alien structures. Screams echoed throughout the world as large flowing energy began to protrude from these distant dots, unfolding like gargantuan flowers of every hue. Wait ... they looked exactly like flowers. The sky now rippled with an unfathomable amount of gorgeous flowers, stoners everywhere cracked a squinty smile within the erupting chaos.
The vast majority had decided this display was terrifying, governments of the world said “uhh we should probably press the buttons now right? Um, hey citizens, will you be mad if we spam the keyboard for a bit?”
Citizens of the world responded with an intensity only batshit insane fear can produce.
“Yes you daft pricks! Press the damn buttons!”
Little Timmy asked if he could press one of the buttons. No, little Timmy, you can’t. It’s actually a complex procedure complete with numerous fail safes, codes and rigorous activation protocols. But that’s not funny. Sure Timmy you can press a button.
The President of GUI watched fondly as millions of small golden explosions glittered across the surface of Earth.
“Ah ha! They have responded, see I told you Qwithlap you worry wart.”
“Sir, those little dots are rapidly growing in size.” Qwithlap said, scratching his forehead with one of the multiple tendrils hanging from his ... lip?
“Oh, grow a triplet you dunce, this is how humans say hello. Have you not heard a word I’ve said? The humans are a violent species, their customs may seem strange to us, but we just nee–“
The world watches as the sky exploded in fire and debris, the floral array disintegrating before their very eyes. And then, silence. Humanity grew restless, they were absolutely sure they were going to die. Government officials were already kicking their feet up in a private jet to Area 51 where they would live out the rest of their days in the massive underground network of shelters built there.
The days that followed were strange to say the least. Everyone stepped as if any wrong move might bring an alien armada raining death and lasers from space. But there was nothing. Until one day, the sky lit up once more, although, it was different this time; theirs were no flowers, no distant ships, only a glowing stream of purple light that constructed large block letter words:
YOU’RE ALL BANNED FROM SPACE, YOU FUCKING DICKHEADS.
Edit: I wrote this on my phone and the formatting is NOT the same as PC, sorry for the absolute mess you just witnessed. Edit 2: fixed it. Edit 3: yeah I hate lots of edits as well, but I got my first ever gold ... cheers nice person :) | 2020-03-21T10:44:51 | 2020-03-21T09:59:59 | 634 | 167 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | The lights on Ambassador Tel’s suspension tank remained static for some time. Like the rest of his species, his- *it’s* - body was a tangled web of translucent strands like a jellyfish crossed with a ball of yarn.
In their home waters, under that warm tropical sun, even a mild current had the strength to tear them in two. This was of course by necessity, forming a crucial part of their reproductive cycle, but left them totally unfit for any sort of non-aquatic travel.
So for one to undergo the invasive process of suspension, giving up months of their life to be cocooned in a steel tank filled with supportive, tear resistant gel had been my first clue to their desperation. On a hunch, I had pressed the issue and asked the Ambassador how their recent conflict had been proceeding.
The indicator lights on the Ambassador’s tank stayed static for nearly fifteen minutes. I was almost to the point of calling one of their aids to check the translation equipment when the lights began to flash and the Ambassador’s synthetic voice spoke.
“Ambassador Stewart, to put it simply, the war has been a catastrophic failure.”
I paused mid sip of my tea, then set the dish down. The directness surprised me, we were so often censored from extra solar affairs.
“Surely it’s not nearly as bad as that,” I responded, “You’re the largest of the local regional powers. You had the clout to keep us unmolested since we were still building mud huts!”
The lights flashed, “No longer, our control has shrunk to less than one hundred cubic light years. All that remains are the Home Waters, several extrasolar depots, and you.”
I felt alarm. A feeling I had not had in a long time.
The lights flashed again, “Before you respond, let me ask you something.”
“Of course.”
“Why do you think we only sponsored your colony on Alpha, as opposed to just giving you the tensor shift mechanism out right?”
The tangent caught be by surprise. I was still hung up on the thought of what type of enemy could conquer thousands of star systems in a few years time.
“When you contacted us, for the first time that is, you said it was imperative that we maintain our own path of technological development, that if we just borrowed, copied, or stole from others we would just blunt our own ability to innovate.”
The tanks lights lit up in a combination that indicated humor, “We lied.”
“Oh?”
“You’re brutal, short sighted, and violent and we wanted you controlled and suppressed so you didn’t burn across the galaxy like a cancer.”
“Oh,” was all that came out from between the surprise and shock.
“We’ve watched you for thousands of years and never once have you come anywhere near what the civilized species of this spiral arm call peace. Even now your General Adi in the South Pacific is butchering his people, and that’s only the most prolific instance of similar acts of brutality across your planet. Even your most ‘civilized’ countries wage war every other decade!”
My diplomatic training roared back to the forefront of my mind, “Ambassador, these condemnations represent a serious shift in tone from our previous meetings. While I respect that we have cultural differences-”
“It does not matter,” the Ambassador’s synthetic voice interrupted, ”I’m here to give you the tensor shift mechanism.”
Confused, and with the beginnings of anger at these shifts in the conversation, I coldly asked, “Why?”
A pause before the lights flashed again, “Because our war is about to become your war. We ask this of you. We offer the mechanisms partly because you will need it and partly in payment.”
“Payment for fighting your war?” I asked, real anger bubbling through.
“Payment for the right to beg your mercy when it’s all said and done.”
Edit: [Part Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4j4mt2/wp_a_peaceful_alien_race_is_besieged_by_another/d34g067) | I leaned back in my chair as we neared Planet Delta, otherwise known as a random series of numbers that I couldn't be arsed to remember. The fourth planet to be taken back.
The alien standing in front of my squad briefed us. His--No, wait, *its* skin a slightly translucent gray, his face a little bit like a tadpole. Little antenna things sticking out of his head, bit weird that, big round eyes. Definitely not how I imagined aliens.
He was babbling on about minimizing civilian casualties, preserve the buildings, blah, blah, blah. We already knew all that. I looked around at my brothers and sisters in this ship, the ones who I'd trained with for ten years prior, perfecting the art of war.
I heard something about us about to head in, and I prepared my assault rifle, as did the others. Nice advantage to humans, that. The bullets tear straight through those alien shields; the bullets just don't go fast enough.
The alien sat down, and our leader stood up. "We're about to deploy into the capital city of the planet," he shouted. Didn't have to shout, it wasn't that loud, but it was good practice. "Be prepared for traps and ambushes from the buildings."
Over the loud speaker, the alien pilot announced, "15 minutes." And so we waited, 15 minutes, guns cocked, ready to deploy.
The ship was already getting shot at as we got closer to the ground. The shuttle bay opened, and we were immediately out. The energy pulses whizzed past me as I ran and ducked for cover. I tried to listen to my radio on my shoulder to get more information on what was going on.
"---lot of those--- gone missing--- all in the buildings."
In the buildings was all the info I needed. I looked around to see who was around; the entire squad was behind cover near me. Perfect. As they started firing over cover, trying not to get smacked with what were essentially massive balls of pure energy, I sprinted around and moved right on up toward a nearby building, where I saw there were plenty of hostiles inside. I heard several more squad mates near me, behind me, running with me.
Straight inside we went, though the door was a bit unconventional in its oval shape. No more than five of us, busting down walls and doors, immediately spraying right through their shields. With a slight smirk, I knew that the others outside would take this opportunity to push up. Within minutes, the building was cleared, with barely a scratch. Tough as they were, they didn't realize how we waged war.
As I walked past, going back down, I heard a faint moan. I looked around, tilted my head, and tried to find the source. Eventually, I traced it to a nearby dying alien. With a slight purr behind its voice, translated by the technology provided by the other aliens, it spoke. "...So...Merciless... No.. H-hesitation...."
It seemed like it was in pain, so with a quick burst, I put it out of its misery. I couldn't help but feel some guilt for it. A sad smile, a backward glance as I left them behind. I knew from the briefing, though. They would've shot back, but not before trying to force us to surrender. In that way, we were more brutal. We didn't hesitate... but the guilt ate away at us. I've seen a lot of friends who went that way.
But, what mattered was that the job was finished. And we'd do the same thing for the entire planet, and the planets next in line.
| 2016-05-13T06:44:58 | 2016-05-13T02:59:59 | 941 | 110 |
[WP] It’s mandatory for a princess to be under a curse by their 16 birthday. Usually turning into a swan, or pricking your finger will do. Its now your 18th birthday, and still no curse. People are worried that no prince will come because of it. Today you set out to find a curse! | Patting me on my head, the fairy godparent I never knew said, "Ooohhhh, Dearie, you went looking for a curse in all the wrong places, when all along the curse has been in..."
"INSIDE ME ALL ALONG?!" I interrupted, earning only a look of disrupted confusing.
"N... No, Dearie. What I mean to say is that you were cursed the day you were born, cursed with the expectation that your destiny can be summed up to the noble you marry. It's a sham."
At this, my excitement waned. "I'm sorry, the royal rites of passage are"
"Something your ancestors came up with to make sure the line never died out," the fairy said as though describing something as mundane as crops growing.
"So they preserved the line because our family is important, the realm needs us in charge because we're spec...ial?" -- again, cut off by the fairy, this time just slowly shaking their head.
Lighting a cigarette, the fairy godparent's ethereal glow dimmed a bit. "Look, kid, I'm trying to do you a big favor here. I know it's all you've ever known, but it's not all it's cracked up to be. There's a lot more to this than you're allowed to see. Behind that wall, there's hectares and hectares of suffering, thousands of serfs ploughing in your family's name, soldiers dying with your family's name on their lips."
"But... Such things are not the concern of kings, nor queens or princesses nor even princes. Those outside the walls have only themselves to blame for their lives of sin and iniquity," I argued.
"Your palace currently contains no fewer than 17 imprisoned entertainers!"
"I'm sure they-" I started as a ledger appeared in their hands.
"Let's see, we've got one serving life for 'sour note', **three** for 'looking like that smug Delurean asshole Carpantius' whatever that means, *thir*-**teen** held for no reason on record..."
At this, I slumped against a wall. "So, what? My birthright is a lie built atop violence, and the rites of passage I've spent my whole life waiting for are all just, what?"
"Bullshit garbage and lies," the fairy said with a smile.
"Well what else is there for me to do? I know no other life," I pleaded. At this, the fairy godparent materialized a suitcase at my feet.
"Run away to the forest. Hollow out a tree. Get a frog as a familiar. Make potions. Play chess with an ass. Eat a purple mushroom. Marry an anvil and have hard-headed children," they said with an electric gleam to their eye. Noticing no such gleam in mine, they calmed their voice a bit to say "Dearie, you can do whatever you want and go wherever you please, but you must do so without stepping on others, forcing others to kneel so that you might ascend, as you termed your so-called birthright."
At this, I had finally heard enough. "Guards! Seize this elderly fool!" I shouted to the hallway, only to watch 5 men stumble, confused, into my otherwise empty room."
"M'lady? You shouted for help?" one asked.
"I.. yes, though... Maybe they really were a fairy..." I said, the last part a little louder than intended, prompting one of the soldiers to snicker at my childishness. A look of horror overtook him as I looked in his direction. "No, please, m'lady, 'twas a sniffle, nothing more."
"Tell it to the other thirteen guys with allergies in the dungeon. Guards!" I shouted at the 5 confused men. The snickerer awkwardly pointed to himself, asking "I'm a guard?". Flustered, I said, "Good guards, please take any bad guards to the dungeon. You know who you are. Whoever puts the bad guard in the dungeon is a good guard. That's how this works."
The 5 men left the room more confused than when they entered, entirely uncertain of how to work out the math of who is good. I heard, "So if all of you go to dungeon, then I'm the good..." trailing off as they descended the tower, the tortured screams of entertainers who vaguely resemble the your father's enemies ringing out into the night.
------
Across town, the fairy godparent removed their disguise and sat down to a modest meal with their spouse.
"How'd it go? Did you get through to her?"
Shaking their head and eating another spoonful, they replied "We're just going to have to kill them." | "Curses, curses, dagnabbit."
"Hanna, language." I chided as Princess Hanna Henderson, first of her name and half a dozen titles I couldn't name of I tried poured over another relic with no success.
"I know Echo, but I've been down here for a week and not even a single curse." She pointed at the dessicated corpse of the previous explorer of this forsaken ruin. "Standard sleeping curse, it's a classic, costs next to nothing to cast, sticks to anything, and it's a classic."
"You're repeating Dear." Oliver said, looking up from the coffin he was examining. Inside Evil King Nameishardtopronounce lay dormant, seventeen stakes through his chest, needeles in his eyes, feet bound in silver threads, and still putting off as much miasma as an entire cursed swamp. "Oh, um, throat closing up, could you,"
"Hold on." Hanna whispered a short prayer, runes lighting up across her arms as Oliver coughed up a stream of black smoke. "Ok, standard lungsmoke curse, nothing to it." She paused, "dagnabbit"
Back at base camp Hanna placed me on the table and examined the map. On it were listed every known cursed location from the tri-kingdom region.
"Ok, so the southern pryamids are a bust, three mummies worth of protection curses and nothing. The eastern vampire region is completely cleansed, what's next? Northern tribes? Or maybe back to the witches again."
"The witches are a bust, they only curse when they really mean it, something about the rule of three I think. You left a good impression after cleaning up that ergot misunderstanding, so they're out. As for the north, I don't think a wendigo curse is there kind of thing you're looking into. Maybe we should just go home."
"That's it. The frog curse. Simple to catch, easy to cute. I just need to find a prince and tip over a few of the frog folk altars and," Hannah paused. "What?"
"You're forgetting you burned out the last known frog folk tribe two weeks before your 18th birthday." I reminded her, stretching before hopping back to my rightful place on her shoulder.
"Ok, maybe that was a bit harsh."
"As one of the people they turned into a newt and were planning on boiling alive no it was not." Oliver corrected, and I was incline to agree. "Look, I know it's your family tradition that you find your true love through the breaking of a curse, but maybe it's time to realize that things change. Our home is the last kingdom, everyone else is a democracy and we're on our way there. I'm starting to think that the reason you can't find a curse is because there aren't any princes to break them."
"You're a marquis, should work."
"Maybe. Maybe you're just too curse proof from all the generations of curses."
XXX
As my mistress and her soon to be husband, not that either is ready to admit it yet, discussed the issue of her curse I took the time to reflect on the actual nature of her curse, myself. See, Hanna's line has had some real pieces of work crop up, nasty kings that gain power through really bad means. This tends to generate resentment and spite. Spite is one of the key ingredients of a curse. The other element is misfortune, but oppressed peasants have lots of that so it's not hard to get. So evil king does evil thing, gets cursed. Evil King manages to make a deal with dark powers to transfer said curse to their heir, usually turning the general misfortune into a very specific curse as the act of channeling this misfortune tends to refine it in odd ways. Then the king plays the victim and calls out for a hero to save their innocent child.
They never really tell that part in the stories do they?
Then when a hero does show up and break the curse that spite rebounds, and takes the original misfortune along with an equal amount from both the target and the one who broke the curse. Thus the ones who laid the curse gets hit with three times then misfortune, the rule of three. It's also how the prince and princess live happily ever after, their misfortune has been purged. | 2022-02-24T03:21:15 | 2022-02-23T23:59:19 | 61 | 39 |
[WP]Some time ago humans were put on the 'Only Contact in Case of Emergency' list. Now a threat to the galaxy has arisen and humanity is it's last hope. | It wasn’t that I hate Humanity; no one could hate Humanity. It was just that something about them... what was the phrase humans used... insected me about them.
About a millennium ago, they had left the galactic community. Their plans to increase their energy production were constantly, as they saw it, delayed and interrupted by the Kadaian members of the Senate. The Security Council was concerned by their high investment into their Defence Forces, fearing a repeat of the Ifacian Rebellions, and forced a reduction to Humanity’s military research and production. Humanity also saw the number of seats allocated to them in government as not representative of their long service and contributions, despite being representative of their small population size.
So they left. They were given their local cluster of a couple of dozen stars and went. One diplomat, upon signing their withdrawal treaty, is reported to have said “If you Richards ever find the poo moving laterally, give us a domed, metallic percussive instrument. Otherwise urinate elsewhere”. The galactic community could never understand Humanity’s obsession with waste products but since that day, members of the Senate have been known fondly as “Richards”.
There were a couple of attempts to contact humanity. When the emission of a small number of stars suddenly shifted into the infrared, the Kadains sent an angry communique, condemning their use of Dyson Spheres and demanding their immediate removal. The message went unanswered. A large explosion, larger than any supernova, was seen near Epsilon Eridani. The Security Council sent a message asking if they needed assistance. Again, no reply was sent. Eventually, the galactic community stopped sending messages.
Until today.
Beings from out side our galaxy arrived in the Suctum-Centaurus Arm. We welcomed the travellers with open upper limbs. They responded with aggression the likes of which we had never seen. Our defence force put up a valiant fight but slowly and surely, they push us back. Our ship yards could not keep up with the demand. Where they could, we did not have enough energy available to power them. Where we did, we were out gunned.
The Security Council had decided that the “poo was now travelling laterally” and asked me to contact Humanity. So I am. I’m sending the message, the first in centuries. I ask, beg, that Humanity help. To use their power supplies and weapons to push the invaders back, back into dark space. I can only hope they choose to reply.
Now, we wait. | Humans were the most dangerous species, by far. Not because they're smart, or strong, but because they were violent.
No race dared contacting them, because they didn't want war. It's too late now, I guess.
The heat death of our universe would come eventually, we just didn't think that other universes would run out faster.
We were invaded. All type 1 civilizations. Our clones from the next universe over came to conquer this one, because theirs had ran out. The worst part?
They brought humans.
No one could predict humans. Not even they could. But we don't have a choice. Without humans, we're doomed.
After a heated but respectful debate at the United Systems, it was decided that it was best to call the humans for help. Humans had the most experience in wars, seeing as how they had the most of them. In fact, they were so good at wars, they made up some rules for themselves to keep things interesting, or as they called it, "conventional".
The humans were surprised at first. They blamed eachother, then us, then eachother again, and eventually they broke war within themselves and made themselves go extinct.
We were doomed. Or so we thought.
As we said, humans are unpredictable and violent. They have a skewed view of reality and make very little sense at the best of times.
So what happened?
Half of the humans thought that, since there are no humans left in this universe, they could join our side without consequences, and that it was the right thing to do, since we were in this universe first.
The other half considered them traitors, and war broke between the humans again. And again humans got themselves extinct.
So... Without humans to make everyone go violent, the two universes managed to come to an agreement. Appearantly, the other universe never wanted to go to war, only their humans did, and they were too scared to say no to humans.
Humans were the best kind of problem, the type that fixes itself.
| 2017-09-25T10:35:28 | 2017-09-25T09:53:51 | 80 | 60 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | It was quite strange actually.
The first number popped into view when I was about 12 years old. It was a solid 4 that looked like something straight out of Times New Roman font. That 4 I remember, hovered above a big scruffy looking man with a tattoo of a stripper on his left arm. I didn't think of it as much at the time. I was 12, and I thought that these numbers were part of growing up.
The next day at school, I saw numbers….everywhere. Everyone had a number above their head. Mrs Ball, had a 1. The girl sitting by herself during recess had a 1. My best friend had a 0. Even my dog had a 1 above his little head.
I was quite stupid actually. At one point, I started bragging to my friends about how I became a man at the tender age of 12. When I told them how I saw numbers above peoples heads, they simply looked at me and probably wondered why they were friends with me in the first place.
For the next 5 years, I continued seeing numbers. The highest I have ever seen, a faint 6, danced on top of an old picture of Hitler in one of my honors history course. Throughout this time, I didn't really think much of these numbers. Truthfully, I didn't even know what they meant.
That was until of course, when I turned on the Television and saw the same man with the 4, on the headlines of BBC news.
It was only after I found out that this man, the same man with the 4 I saw 5 years ago, the same man who had violently murdered 14 people out of the blue, the same man who was getting lethal injection, did I realize for the first time what the numbers truly meant.
From that day forward, the numbers began to mean something. I paid close attention to them for the next few years and this is what I have found out.
1. The numbers correspond to how a dangerous a person is, with a zero belonging to a toddler, and a 3-4 belonging to a serial killer.
2. The numbers work on a logarithmic scale. I don't know if there is some kind of mathematical equation behind this. All I know is that a 5, is A LOT more dangerous that a 4. Fun fact: Stalin was a 5.
3. Numbers become more precise with age, or experience. When I first saw the numbers, they were pleasant whole numbers. When I was 17, I saw my first 1.5 floating above my girlfriend. I am now 25, and the numbers now go into god knows how many digits - ive lost count.
4. Numbers fluctuate constantly, but never by much.
5. I can't see my own number.
........
You may think that seeing thousands of numbers a day may be a curse, but actually, it gets pretty fun. The numbers I see is in its very essence, information. For instance, did you know Dictator Mao had a higher number than Hitler before he died? Or the fact that women have on average higher numbers than men? What about the fact that politicians have again on average lower numbers than teachers?
As I said, the numbers are information, and with all information, I can, and I have, used these numbers to my own advantage.
How one may ask? To be honest, it's really quite simple. I can sympathize anyone. I can move people simply because I know how anyone is feeling at any given moment.
When I got my first real job at 18 (back when I was able to see numbers to the hundredths digit in precision) at local restaurant, I was cleaning floors and serving people food. I was nothing. Then wages sucked and my boss treated me like a piece of shit, who I theorized probably just pushed me around to make himself feel better for his insecure 0.125. For the longest time, I didn't know what to do with my gift. This changed when one day, the CEO of a large oil firm came in for dinner. I paid close attention to that man. He was a 2.870-2.91 mostly throughout the dinner. If I remember correctly, he ordered a steak and the most expensive bottle of wine, and ate his food in silence. Throughout the evening, I watched that man. His number didn’t fluctuate much. I got bored, and was about to mop the floor until out of the corner of my eye I caught the man pulling out his phone to what I’m guessing to check on his messages. It was at that instant, that his number of sub 2.7-sh, suddenly rose to a 3.678. Something was wrong. Whatever it was, I felt sorry for that guy. I ended up paying for his dinner, despite costing me 2 weeks’ worth of my salary.
Initially, I thought I made a mistake paying for that guys food. I was wrong.
The next day, he came to the restaurant again. He didn’t order anything. Instead, he asked my boss for me. When I greeted him, he thanked me for my kindness and asked me if I wanted a “real job”.
Turns out his wife cheated on him, and truthfully, I’m thankful for that. Because of her, I learned to use my gift wisely.
I should also add that I am now the VP of said multi-billion dollar company. You can probably guess how I got there.
Last night, something interesting happened. I was looking over some files in until a young man was escorted into my office. I have to say I was kind of surprised when I saw the 8.1264184…. I’ve never seen anyone, dead or alive, with such a high number. As the numbers work on a logarithmic scale, he made Hitler look PG-13.
This man wasn’t just dangerous. He was lethal. The numbers don’t lie. Who knows what he was capable of?
But despite that I looked into his eyes, and saw that he was genuinely afraid.
I chuckled, and asked him what he did for a living. Private contractor? Radical Extremist? A politician? When he didn’t answer, I rose from my seat and walked towards him to introduce myself.
But instead of enthusiastically reaching out to shake my hand, as these over qualified try-hards usually do to get a job, he stammered back and whispered in a mixture of what I can only describe as fear and disbelief…..
“you…..you are.. a… ten”.
To be honest, I wasn’t really surprised.
| It was just another boring Monday, started off with socials. With "Madame" Defrushia. Screw her. She's a flipping idiot and hates on everyone who corrects her, so, like most of the class by the first month in, worse is that she's teaching us our Canadian history. Whatever, she just sits at her desk and tells us to read most Monday mornings.
Except for the new kid. Sayeehed, he said his name was, looking both scared, angry, and damn near giddy at the same time, said he and his family had moved here from somewhere in the middle east. Seemed like a weird kid, and everyone else seemed to be getting that impression too; but I think I'm fairly unique when it comes to weird.
Now, how would I know I'm weird? I know, every kid wants to think themselves special and 'weird'. Well, I have a sense about people, I can tell right away what they're capable of the second they say anything to me. Most of the kids in the class were 3s, Stephanie, the head cheerleader, was a 8, and the class bully was a 6. Didn't figure that one out with her until well into high school at a school dance, but that's another story for another time.
Sayeehed, though, seemed interesting so I motioned for him to come sit with me at the back, and to my surprise, he gladly accepted. At first, again, seeming timid and nervous, but relaxed and calmed into a lazy slouch as he progressed, to my shock, he measured an 11. I'd seen a few tens on the news, mostly with politicians or big time gangsters, but they were people who were royally screwed in the head and outright dangerous, so to see a
Then came three hours of sitting at our desk, alternatively reading the damn-near tindling dry socials book, an hour of math and then a spelling exercise, all "hands-off" so that the dear "Madame" can sit at the front and occasionally yell at us to be quiet and study.
At lunch no one wanted to sit with me, and they were leaving Sayeehed alone, because of course Stephanie was showing off the new phone her dad had bought her after she had "dropped" it down the stairs(aka thrown it into a wall when she didn't get what she wanted.) Whatever. I asked if I could sit with him and he gladly accepted. We talked about lots of things, though whenever I asked about his country or his family he wouldn't say anything except that they were poor back home and barely made it here, and then promptly change the subject. That said, he wasn't too behind the times technologically, he knew what a gameboy was, and pulled out this ratty looking thing with pieces of the case missing, looking mostly held together with duct tape, and a dusty pokemon diamond cartridge. Just like that, I'd made a friend. My step-mom was happy until I said the poor kid's name. Then she turned sheet white. and said something under her breath, damn racist cunt, she couldn't replace my mom.
I grabbed my old gameboy, and got some games for him, just the standards, mario, castlevania, games I'd long since memorized and didn't have a use for. I figured he did though, and gave them to him the next morning at school. He loved them and said he'd cherish them. Over time he relaxed and became the single most laid back and genuinely happy person I had ever met, he taught me a few arabic words, simple greetings and a few swear words, more than enough to scare the crap out of my step-mom.
This went on for months until one day in November. I met up with him in the park to go for a bike ride after dad took me to the remembrance day ceremony. We were just about to go when the jets from the ceremony flew over back to the airport, as they did he ducked, tackled me into the bushes and held us both down until the roar had subsided. He was panicked, eyes wide with fear and a tight, clenched jaw. I punched and shoved him off, and was going to run until I heard him softly say one word.
'wait'
I turned and paused as he he motioned me back to our bikes. You want to hear about my family and my past, he said, simply and quietly. We are from Iraq. I have been bombed by jets like those, and heard stories about others being hunted like vermin. My father worked for the government, just a simple accountant, he had never raised his voice against anyone, the kindest and gentlest man I had ever known. For the last two years we had been fighting to merely stay alive. He lifted his shirt and pointed at a few circular scars around his shoulder. These are bullets. He pointed to a cluster of evil looking scars on his back. These are shrapnel, it still hurts sometimes, and I can still feel their scarring heat. We were being attacked by rebels. They killed my dad for refusing to hand over his wife and my sister to them; My brother and I hid, helpless to their screams. It was quiet after the loudest screams. We snuck out and found a pair of grenades and a pistol on a body, and in our rage we turned on the rebels, ambushing them in the room. We killed them all. One shot my shoulder and my brother. As we lay in what was left of our house, a group of soldiers ran up to us, and were able to save my life. One of them gave me this gameboy in the hospital to keep me busy while I recovered. We were picked up by my dad's former boss, and he pretended we were his sons. That is how I'm here, please forgive me. | 2014-11-29T22:35:42 | 2014-11-29T17:27:40 | 200 | 11 |
[WP] You’re a professional photographer hired by the bride’s family to film a night wedding. You capture maybe ten minutes of footage before the groom’s family pay you in cash and cancel your services. That night, going through the uploaded footage, none of the groom’s family shows up on the screen. | I had to save her. That’s the only thought that run through my head as I made my supply run.
I had to stop her.
The wedding was tonight. I was lucky I had discovered their secret at a small get together before the actual event.
I picked up garlic and a wooden cross of sorts I had fashioned myself. I didn’t have enough time to melt some silver coins and make some bullets. Besides I hated guns. Just one of those things. I would stop by some church and pick up a bit of holy water as well. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.
I arrived at the mansion as self doubt started to creep up. What could little old me do against a horde of vampires. But I thought of the poor old bride. About to enter a world she didn’t know anything about. No. I had to do something.
I discreetly entered through a side gate, deciding on my plan of action. My first priority had to be the bride. I wondered what they wanted with the girl. Why they were going through this entire charade.
As I went up the stairs to the where the bride’s side of the family would be, I saw a figure moving towards me. I froze as I realized it was the groom’s uncle. I had met him earlier today. He was one of those who hadn’t appeared on the video. One of those who had noticed that I was filming and shut the whole thing down before I even had a chance to film anything. I hadn’t even gotten a chance to get the bride in her dress. And now I had to make sure she never got a chance to wear it. For her sake.
As he walked towards me, I froze like a deer in the headlights. I had come here to be a hero, but who was I kidding. I quickly hid the wooden stick I had been playacting with inside a massive decorative vase with flowers.
“Hey! You? What’re you doing here?”
“Nothing sir. I’m just checking the floral arrangements.”
“What?”
“I’m in charge of the floral arrangements, sir.”
“I thought you were the photographer.”
“Oh you must have met my brother sir. We do look a lot alike.”
He looked at me with suspicion. “Hmm your brother. Has he seen the video?”
“I wouldn’t know sir. I’ve been too focused on my own tasks. Now if you don’t mind.”
“Actually, I...”
“Oh and here’s my card by the way. Me an my brothers provide a range of services to make sure your wedding goes as smoothly as possible. We provide...”
“Ok ok. It’s late. I need to go.”
Advertising. Everyone hated it.
I watched him leave as I pretended to check the flower arrangement. I fished out my little cross stick. There had been water in the vase. I wondered if regular water could wash away holy water. Surely not. But hopefully I could get this done on the down low and no one would be the wiser.
I continued on towards the bride’s quarters. They were faking a marriage with her. Surely she was the most important piece. I would get her out first, and then focus on the rest of her family. I felt something move above me I jumped, whipping out the garlic from my pocket. Then I looked at the mirrored ceiling above me and realized I was getting scared of my reflection. I tried to slow down my heartbeat to human levels as i continued on.
I knocked on her door but she didn’t really answer. I knocked again, a bit forcefully. I didn’t want to wake anyone up but I had to take that chance. No answer still. Time to put my lock picking knowledge from YouTube to use. I bent down in front of the door and tried to pick the lock. But this was unlike anything in the videos. There was barely any space for the Bobby pin to go in.
I was still observing it when someone tapped my shoulder.
“Hey, what’re you doing?”
Great. I got up and looked at him guiltily. The uncle again, this time with a whisky bottle in his hand.
“What am I doing? Only saving this damn wedding. I got an emergency text from the bride that her dress wasn’t fitting.”
“What? Aren’t you...”
“I’m the one who was hired to work on all the dresses. Some of my finest creations. My brother, the wedding planner hired me. You know I do give discounts on referrals and since I’m doing this wedding and...”
At that moment the door opened and Samantha Jones stood there groggily.
I quickly grabbed her and went inside. “Miss Jones, I got your text. Let’s take a look at your dress immediately. There is no time to lose.” I turned around to the man standing there, looking confused. “Oh btw, here’s my card. As I said, I give discounts on re...”
“I should let you get to work.” He turned around, stealing a glance at the bride and immediately turning his gaze away.
I closed the door behind me, still holding her hand. “Miss Jones. You’re in big trouble. We need to get out of here right now.”
“What?”
“They’re all vampires. Vampires I tell you.”
“Who is?”
“All of the groom’s family.”
“Are you joking?”
“No. They didn’t show up in the camera.”
In an instant her eyes almost seemed to glass over. Her expression changed as she almost seemed to snarl like a rabid animal.
“Those damned dirty mirror dwellers.”
She closed her eyes and let out a yell.
I fell to the ground covering my ears. What was going on here?
She opened the door and yelled again. Almost as if by magic, all of the doors around us opened up almost synchronously. Her family got out and stood around her.
I saw at the opposite end of the corridor that the groom’s family had gathered as well.
I wasn’t sure what was going on but i knew that I seemed to be caught in the middle of some weird battle. I slinked off to the side as the two sides attacked each other.
It was carnage everywhere with bodies flying all over the place. I hid behind a vase watching it all unfold.
I saw someone come flying through the air and land next to me. It was the groom’s uncle.
“Damn it. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you. Do you even know how to do floral arrangements?”
“Actually I do. Though I was hired here as a photographer, I do happen to be multi talented. They were all real cards. Here.”
I threw a set of cards at him. There was me, Thomas Bradley, photographer. Thomas Bradley, floral arrangements. Thomas Bradley, priest.
He picked up that one and looked at me. “You’re a priest too?”
“Did a course online.”
“Do you have some holy water?”
“I had some. I sprinkled it on this.”
“Two sticks?”
“It’s a stake. To drive through your heart.”
He looked at me, clearly lost. Beyond us, the battle was still in full swing.
“Right then. So this is dipped in holy water.”
“Well it was but then I had to hide it in regular water.”
“That’s ok. Holy water sticks.”
He handed me back the stick and also a book.
“What is this book? What is going on?”
“Short Version. She was part of the mirror dimension but she escaped with her minions. We were sent here to capture her. To get everyone that escaped here together, we created a mirror image of her as a guy and made her fall in love. We were sure everyone would be at the wedding. The priest had instructions to bless this book with holy water and read out this particular incantation.”
He pointed to a particular page.
“Ok. Well I’m sorry I thought you were all vampires.”
Realization dawned on his face. “Oh! Hence the stake. I get it now. Well since we’re all from the mirror dimension, your reflective surfaces can’t really detect us. Ok so bless the book and say the incantation. That should freeze us all in place. Then go to page number 23, if the number of people is odd and page number 24 if the number of people is even. Read the lines on that page and that should do the trick.”
“How will I know if there are odd number of people or even.”
“It’s 50-50. Give it a shot.”
And I did.
With a flash of light and smoke, suddenly i sat there alone, wondering if I had imagined the whole thing. Worst part, I wasn’t gonna get paid for anything.
I got up and dusted my clothes. I felt a migraine coming on. It would be a bad one too. As I started to leave I felt a movement above me.
The good uncle, stared back at me, standing with my reflection. He put something in my reflection’s pocket.
I felt a weight in my own pocket. Inside was a bundle of cash and a note. “This was going to be for the priest. You did good kid. I’ll call you if I ever need someone to design our tuxedos.” | I scanned through the video footage, looking over every frame with care. At first, it was simply to see if I had any good shots for my portfolio. Now, though, I'm staring dumbfounded as I move through image after image on my computer screen. What I'm seeing is impossible, and yet there it is. I remembered every bit of the video I had taken. The same ten minutes and thirty-seven seconds played over again and again. I had seen them all there when I set up the equipment, a few of them had even come up to me and shook my hand, including the bride and groom themselves. In that church, they had all been physically present.
Now, though, I looked a half-empty church. A few of the groomsmen and the priest stood up at the altar. However, the others groomsmen, the groom, and the people on several pews on the groom's side of the church were nowhere to be found. It was as if the didn't exist, though I was there and I knew that they were. I had *seen* them. Yet, the video footage showed nothing. Nothing at all. They had *been* there! Someone had to have tampered with my footage! It was the only explanation.
I thought it strange that the couple in question had chosen to have a night wedding. Not uncommon, sure, but definitely unusual.
"*What do you mean? I don't understand*." I had switched back into video mode and heard my own words. Thinking, I rewound the footage a few seconds before. I remembered one of the groom's family - his uncle, perhaps? - coming up and telling me my services were no longer needed. The only problem was, as I rewound the footage a few times and played it back, was that I was only hearing half of a conversation. I distinctly remembered the man's voice, laden with an incredibly thick accent I couldn't pinpoint. German? Regardless, I didn't hear it on the footage or the see the man, but I did witness the camera being pushed down as it had been by the man before I shut it off...with no visible hand.
An envelope had been put into my hand shortly thereafter, the bills within totaling $2500 - ten times my usual fee for a wedding. An unprecedented windfall, given how much work I hadn't done on this. I rewound the footage again, this time noticing something else: the tall crucifixes behind the altar had been removed. I had done a wedding at this particular church before and they had been there before. A curious thing to note, but it did strike me as odd given how prominently it had been featured before.
My doorbell rang, startling me and bringing me out of my thoughts. Leaving my small office, I walked down the hallway and turned the corner into my foyer, peering through the peephole and seeing a tall man in a black suit standing outside. He looked pale, but otherwise seemed to be well-muscled. I slowly opened the door.
"Can I help you?" I asked.
"Are you Mr. Jack Jeffries?" The man asked me, his accent that same thick European I hadn't been able to figure out.
"That depends on who's asking. . ." He said.
"I am an associate of Mr. and Mrs. Munteanu. May I come in?" The man in black asked. I remembered that name, the groom had been a Mr. Munteanu. It seemed that the two had gotten married after all. This man, though, something about him made me feel...unsettled. Every instinct told me to deny him and tell him to tell me what he needed to from my doorstep.
So I did just that.
"You can tell me why you're here, certainly." I said. The man seemed annoyed with me for a fraction of a second, but his face resumed that same blank expression it had had moments before.
"Mr. Jeffries, forgive me, but I have been sent to inquire about the footage you have taken from the wedding yesterday evening." The man said.
"Yes, I have it." I nodded.
"My employer wishes the footage to be erased. Immediately." The man said, point blank. I stared at him for a moment, blinking a few times.
". . .why?"
"That is not your concern. My instructions were clear. You can either erase the footage or give all copies of it to me."
"I'm afraid the terms of the contract signed by Mr. and Mrs. Munteanu makes it very clear that the rights to all footage belongs to-"
"I have no interest in contracts or rights." The man cut me off. "I have told you what needs to happen. Do so now."
"No." I replied, moving to close my door. A hand slammed into the wood, and I heard an audible crack as it did so. A moment later, I was pushed back as a force slammed against the door, two other men in suits entering through the open doorway, grabbing me at the arms and pulling me out of my home. "LET ME GO! PUT ME DOWN! NOW!" One of them cupped a hand over my mouth, the other punched me in the gut before they kept hoisting me up. Try as I might, I could not break free. The man in black came up to assist, slipping a cloth sack over my head.
Blind to everything, I was completely unprepared as a punch slammed right into my stomach, and I fell down against the pavement, feeling my head swimming.
"You could have made this so easy..." I heard the man in black before pain exploded along the side of my head, and I fell into the bliss of unconsciousness. I don't know how long I was wandering that void between this world and the next, but when I awoke I wasn't in my house or on the street outside. I also didn't have the cloth sack over my head. Instead, I was in what looked like a lavish bedroom. It was a king-sized mattress, the bed and the room furnished in a way that spoke of the upper classes - all expensive materials and heavy ornamentation on everything from the bedframe to the light fixtures in the room.
I sat up, seeing a closed wooden casket on top of a long table and, sitting next to it, was the figure of Mr. Munteanu, still wearing his tuxedo from the wedding.
"Ah, Mr. Jefferies! You're finally awake. I trust your trip to us was pleasant?"
". . .are you joking?" I asked, when I found myself able to speak once again. My body still stung from the attack. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Ah, yes...I do apologize. My men tell me you were...less than helpful. And they had to resort to brutish methods." Munteanu said, looking almost regretful. "It is unfortunate that you were brought into all of this, but my wife insisted upon a photographer for our special night. An indulgence that I should have refused, but I had not the heart to do it." He adjusted one of his cuffs. "Unfortunately, it is now a mistake I must correct."
"Mistake?!" I stood up from the bed. My eyes flickered between the man and the casket.
"Yes, you see...my family...we stay in the shadows with good reason. Light...it does not become us. So we avoid it. We avoid the prying eyes of the world. Eyes like yours." Munteanu explained. "You have seen the footage, no doubt? How my kin and I do not appear upon it?"
". . .let's say that I ha-"
"Yes or no, Mr. Jeffries." I was silent. Munteanu sighed. "Then I shall make my meaning plain: I am a vampire. All of my family are, and we cannot allow this secret to get out. We cannot allow you to continue."
"You expect me to believe that?" I asked.
"I expect you to believe nothing." Munteanu said. "But I will tell you now, you will not leave this place alive." He stood up, walking over to the casket, pulling the lid off with surprising strength, tossing it aside. Within, I saw the form of Mrs. Munteanu, still in her wedding dress and looking deathly pale, still as the grave. "You see...my unblushing bride has joined our family. Soon she will wake, Mr. Jeffries, and she will need a meal."
I was about to speak when Mrs. Munteanu's eyes snapped open, and an unearthly gasp clawed its way from her throat. | 2021-04-08T22:35:28 | 2021-04-08T22:02:17 | 226 | 130 |
[WP] One day everyone notices the words "Human Update 1.1 progress 1%" in the corner of their eye. | It was very exciting that first day, mass confusion, followed by philosophical and spiritual debate. Was this proof of god? what would happen when it reached 100%? Then 89 days of, "fuck how long is this going to take" the count down from ten was pretty good tense giddy excitement gripped everyone. Honestly nobody could talk about anything else, not that you'd blame them, for once everyone had something in common.
The big day came there were parades, speeches, pink floyd reunited for a massive concert in london that was awesome. Some religious cult in the American Midwest committed mass suicide, that was not so awesome. As the counter showed 100%, the change log popped up "humanity will no longer bite the inside of their own mouths". That was it no great leap forward no explanation of why we're here, questions generally went unanswered. Most people moved on, and many forgot, but I still try sometimes, but I just can't do it. Bite the inside of my mouth that is. | Everyone panicked. But then we realized. It had taken thousands upon thousands of generations to make 1% of the update. The rest would most likely not come in our lifetimes, nor in our descendants', or in their descendants'.
God gleefully cheered. "I can't believe it's updating! Stupid Comcast lost all my packets, but this time, it's gonna work for sure!"
The next day, everybody noticed the words, "Human Update 1.1 progress 3%" in the corner of their eyes. | 2015-03-04T17:10:55 | 2015-03-04T16:33:29 | 247 | 123 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | The chamber illumination dimmed and the milky sim tank faded to life. A thousand eyes stared intently from the council benches, and a trillion more from across the five galaxies.
A deep voice, set on edge with urgency and well-contained fear, began its narration of the sim.
"The Brevis' star system surveillance node 47 has, it has been reported, recorded first contact with the species self-identifying as Humans. This much has already been announced. What has not yet been announced is that an analysis of the event has been completed, and their method of travel has thrown a black flag, gamma zero priority. Observe."
The sim showed a small moon below, surrounded by a halo of probes similar to the one that must be recording the image. In the far distance, the volumetric compensation showed a grossly enlarged blue planet on another orbital track, the Brevis' home world Herol. The orbital motion of the probes had been smooth and obvious, but now they slowed.
"We are showing the event at a reduced speed. Watch carefully."
Without warning, the entire projection dimmed as a single point of incredible, actinic light burst from the space next to the moon and raced away from its surface. As one, the closer orbiting probes glowed white-hot and began to disintegrate. The image wavered and then froze.
"Now, focus your attention on the exact location this phenomenon appeared, and keep your attention on that spot as the light moves away."
The image reversed, and the killing glow moved back to its original location. It slowly crept back outwards as the sim zoomed in. There, in the wake of the glow, was a ship, shaped like a mushroom with its cap to the light. Vaporised hull matter streamed from the smooth side facing the light, some sort of ablative heat shielding.
"We had never seen this effect before. We assumed it was some sort of deceleration technique, until we looked at it from the planetary defence network."
The perspective in the sim shifted, as if travelling to the distant planet. The moon and its halo of probes shrank, then grew again due to the volumetric compensation. The sim was normal again for a moment, before that terrible light appeared, an incredible distance from the moon this time, and immediately split into two lights, travelling away from each other at greater than the speed of light.
An audible click reverberated around the chamber as each of the species in attendance simultaneously inhaled on their breathing apparatuses.
"As you can see, the motion of the light is a relativistic illusion. The light doesn't travel, it exists simultaneously at all points in a column for a moment, then dissipates. The energy requirement is staggering. After calculating an intercept to the closest habitable world on the trajectory described by the light column, it appears their world is four hundred light-years away. The humans claim a similar distance, and their navigational data also confirm it. From this we can calculate the energy release as being consistent with a type III civilisation."
What had previously been a gentle series of clicks was now a cacophony, the seats shaking with the bodily gyrations of the assembled dignitaries. Some wailed, others laughed, most were silent.
"We have brought the leader of the human expedition here, with her agreement, of course."
The noises of discomfort reached a crashing crescendo, as several of the delegates jumped out of their seats and bolted for the exit.
The disembodied voice thundered, "ORDER!"
"I present to you, Chakor, Human, of planet Earth."
The creature that stepped into the chamber was unimpressive, physically. Bipedal, endoskeletal, wearing some sort of almost completely covering clothing with various decals affixed to it. The remaining delegates seemed to calm a little, their agitation lowering to a gentle swaying. The Human addressed the crowd.
"Greetings, delegates of the local group. My name is Chakor, I represent my species, Human, and wish to express our honour in meeting you all. We come in peace."
The room quietened further, and the booming voice sounded again. "Chakor will now take moderated questions from the floor. Please enter your queries for analysis and amalgamation."
A few awkward moments passed, Chakor looking out among the delegates. They varied from bipeds with heads and arms of various number to floating creatures in some sort of water tanks, through to creatures much more... alien.
"First question. The energy output of your drive technology is beyond immense. You must be capturing the energy output of most of a galaxy, somewhere. How can it be that we have not noticed the birth of a type III civilisation under our watch?"
Chakor paused to think before she replied, clearly confused. "We are not a type III civilisation. We are barely a type I. We just discovered a way to manipulate the nature of reality."
The voice didn't even wait to consult the accumulating list of vetted questions. "What?! How?"
"When we accidentally created and shot a cluster of miniature black holes through our particle collider's detectors, we discovered that the vacuum of space was not at the true ground state of the universe. This lent is an opportunity to use the difference in energy levels to complete an until-then hypothetical method of propulsion."
The room exploded into roars, gurgles, and screeches of outrage.
"Your drive is powered by triggering a collapse of fundamental reality?!"
"Not quite, if you'd let me finish. After we discovered the false vacuum was the current skein of the universe, we found that at the moment of triggering a vacuum state collapse, it was possible to entangle an arbitrary length of vacuum in a beam away from the source, and trigger the collapse simultaneously and instantaneously along that path."
Guards in the chamber drew their weapons as several delegates rose on their hindlimbs as if to attack.
"Chakor, this is madness! Your drive cannot work as you describe, or we wouldn't have any video of your arrival. A vacuum collapse would spread from wherever it started at the speed of light, unmaking the universe in its path!"
"Oh, yes we knew that. It turns out that the vacuum collapse provides enough energy to fold space into itself. In local proximity, one side of the event becomes the other. The space in between is clipped off like a twisted balloon, erased from having any bearing on existence. Our ship is instantaneously folded from one side of the beam to the other, and internal fields save us from having any biological changes. Of course, the collapse has to happen first by a few fractions of a microsecond, so there is some... energy leakage."
The chamber went suddenly silent.
The probe and planetary defence system had recorded an abomination, a gross violation of reality itself. The demonic light fleeing the Humans' strange vessel was the energetic corpse of a monster, come to open its maw and swallow the universe, inexorably, at the glacial speed of light. A fitting technology for a pursuit predator like the humans.
"You risk all our existence just to travel. How can we leave you free run of the galaxies?"
Chakor grinned. "We could always run one last wide beam to the ends of the universe and neglect to fold it away. How can you not?" | Uyreah swung the hoe one last time, burying it with a satisfying thud deep in the dirt and letting it stand there. He wiped sweat from his brow, cursing again the rarity and costliness of proper mechanised tools in this world. He stretched his back, grimaced at the toll his age was taking on him, and turned for the other side of the valley.
As he walked, his thoughts were a numb buzzing in his oblong skull, and as always, heeded not his demand for them to be still. He did his best to ignore them, placing one three-toed foot in front of the other. It didn't matter what might be going on on Homeworld. It was not his business.
The sky's blue began to give way to pink, and he knew that his son would be on the roof, settling in to watch the coming aurora. The boy was getting to that age where he wondered what was beyond the limits of their farming community, and Uyreah was not prepared to answer him.
At least, not since the last moonshiner had died with his secrets. Uyreah had wished to apprentice to him, for he recognised how important intoxicants were to the community, but his own father had forbade it. Tretton, as his father was called, had been sober his entire life, and believed only hard work and dedication could keep their colony alive until help could come. Any time resting or relaxing had to be spent in study, or weaving, or some other productive but untaxing activity.
Tretton was not mourned.
The house was coming into view now, a hive of small semi-spherical buildings attached in a web, and sure enough, the boy Ghgets was atop the tallest one, ankles crossed and weight resting on his palms behind him. Uyreah smiled a private smile, and pushed against his aching bones to climb the rest of the hill.
"Just in time, Dad!" Ghgets waved, then seemed to hesitate. "Dad? Can we talk?"
Uyreah froze, swallowed, looked left and right as though seeking an escape route. He was, he realised. He steeled himself, and without responding, moved to drop his bag of root-vegetables at the door. He stood there for a little longer than he probably should have.
"Let's wait for the lights," he said at last, and began scaling the abode. "Wouldn't want you to miss the lights."
"The lights are on all night every night," Ghgets responded in a sulky tone, but shifted over to make room for his father. "They're hard to miss."
"Yet you're out here every night, at the same time." Uyreah grumbled, dropping down heavily. He leaned over and pressed his head against his son's, and trilled, which seemed to placate the boy. They turned back to the sky in silence, and in moments, it erupted in shimmering waves of green, magenta, and cyan.
Even now, in his twilight years, Uyreah loved them.
"You want to know about what's up there."
"I want to know where we came from."
"It's the same question, really. Why now? Why wait all these years to ask?"
Ghgets' skin darkened, and he began picking at some loose dirt on the roof. "Because Grampa always said to ignore it. 'Keep your eyes on the soil,' he said. 'The soil is our life. What's up there is not for us.'"
Uyreah nodded, the sounds of those same words from when he was told them ringing through his head. He rolled his head from one side to the other lazily, mulling over what to say next. He wished his bond-mate was still with them.
"We're from Homeworld," he said at last. "Not you or I, but our people. They came here in great ships, and set up mining operations. Some brought their families. Then, one day..." He gestured at the sky. "This."
"What is 'this'," Ghgets demanded petulantly, tearing off a fist-sized clod of dirt.
Uyreah, annoyed, did his best to keep his voice level. "This was hundreds of years ago, and even back then, we only had a few scientists in this region of space. You know the six stars, right?"
That seemed to soften the boy's mood. He loved what little astronomy he was privy to. "Titungus, the rager. Pilipin, the dancer. Qott and Sett, the twins." He pointed now, at a bright point in the ocean of dancing colours, and named the star, "Revin, the bold. And our sun, Illerv, the seeker."
"And among those," Uyreah spoke, "Illerv, Titungus, and Revin are the prime stars, with colonies under their light. Titungus-3 was the first established, and that was where the scientists dwelt. When the light curtain appeared, it isolated the six stars from the rest of space with its impassable barrier. For a time after that, there was chaos, and murder, and despair. All communications with Homeworld, and indeed, any other colony, was severed. But after a year, one of the scientists sent a broadcast out. We call it 'Liric's proclamation', for that was her name."
Ghgets sat enraptured, staring unblinking at his father with wide, porcelain eyes. It was only then Uyreah realised how little he had taught his son, and silently cursed himself and his father both.
"She said that they had heard of an experiment being undertaken by a species called Human, of a new faster-than-light drive they were developing. Liric claimed that this drive had folded the space around this area, trapping us in a pocket dimension. Presumably, the ship was supposed to traverse the shortened distance, and then unfold the pocket. Yet, here we are, hundreds of years later."
Uyreah could see his boy processing all of this, with the same plodding determination he had used. He turned back to the lights above, trying to recall if he had missed anything important.
"So... What causes the lights?"
Uyreah scratched his chin, fighting to bring back those lectures of old. "Well, because our space is compressed, light moves through it faster than it normally should. That causes... something. I don't recall. We have even fewer scientists now than those we started with."
"Is that why we don't have a harvester?"
"Aye, noone remembers how to build one."
"I'd like to join you in the field tomorrow, Dad."
Uyreah smiled. | 2017-03-31T12:42:19 | 2017-03-31T00:43:51 | 127 | 36 |
[WP] On their 18th birthday humans get a familiar, these familiars are all different creatures and can range from a simple Mouse to a majestic Unicorn and are bound to you until you die. You just turned 18, but yours is different, strange even. Yours appears to be human. | “Ah, just turned 18 huh? First night out?” said the bouncer, glaring straight through me. He’s clearly done this a hundred times before. Before I could say anything, he pulled out a black marker and X’d my hands.
I had no clue why my friends dragged me out to a gay club on my eighteenth birthday. I was never a partier, and I definitely wasn’t gay. All in good fun, right? As I walked into the nightclub, I met with two of my best friends in the world, Alison and Naomi.
“Hey Chad! Nice to see you finally made it out! 30 minutes until you-know-when!” Alison said, cheerily as ever.
It was midnight. I was born midnight-thirty. Soon, I would receive my familiar. I never really cared to get a familiar, honestly; if anything, I was certain to get a roach... or worse.
After a few good songs (and a few “meh” drinks), things got blurry. Before I knew it, I hit the ground in a black daze.
“Excuse me?? What the HELL do you think you’re doing down there dressed like THAT???”, shouted a grating, unfamiliar voice.
As I woke from my daze, there she was. All seven feet of her.
“Wh- what are you?” I said in absolute shock, staring at the seemingly gigantic drag queen in front of me.
“Definitely not an animal, if that’s what you were expecting. I’m Cruella DeVine, and I’m your familiar! Happy Birthday, b*tch.”
In all of my eighteen years, I have never seen a sight like her. She was freakishly tall, dauntingly beautiful, and strongly scented like cherry blossom perfume.
“How did I end up with you? Why couldn’t I get a wo-“ I was cut off by a huff and an eye roll.
“I guess you must not understand — I’m your familiar. You just HAD to be one of the kids to come to a gay club on your eighteenth birthday; if you wanted a puppy, you should’ve went to the kennel. Now, as an attribute of your surroundings, you’re stuck with an immortal drag queen for the rest of your life!”
I was absolutely stunned. Alison and Naomi were behind Cruella, cracking up like hyenas at a barmixtzfah.
“How am I going to explain this to Dad?” I said with my palm over my face. | "Alright Stewart, you're about to get your familiar in 3...2...1!"
A spark flashed right by my shoulder as the clock struck midnight. My older sister, mom, dad, and best friend all stared in shock and horror.
I looked to my side and saw something truly terrifying, a 45 year old man with a beer gut, bald head, sweat pants, and a black tanktop was looking at me with a mischievous grin.
"Yo, Stewie, whattup? I'm your new pal, Larry."
"Y-your my familiar?"
"Hell yeah brother."
"My dad has a pixie, my mom has a bat, my older sister has a sphere of light, and my best friend has a spirit metronome... And I have you... Larry."
"All those familiars suck anyways," Larry said and followed it up with a strong, intense burp. "Except for maybe the metronome. That's pretty practical," he burped again voraciously.
My mom passed out, but that was no surprise, she was usually dramatic. No one said a word, probably because they were mortified. I didn't blame them.
"Uh Larry, tell me about yourself," I said.
"You and I are going to have a blast, pal. I love all the things you love. Pokemon, baseball, Mario games, Harry Potter, Wes Anderson movies, Seinfeld, the list goes on."
My expression went from repulsion to delight. My eyes lit up like a firework.
"I also play guitar," he said pulling out a miniature Gibson SG. "Let's record that album of yours that you've been thinking about and rock the f-!"
"Hell yeah, Larry!" I shouted.
"That's my guy. I know I look like shit but I've got taste. I just like my booze... What hell are *they* all looking at?"
My family continued to look in disgust, but my best friend was now smiling.
"I know your best friend plays bass too, let's get this gravy train rockin' and rollin' boys!" Larry shouted.
r/randallcooper | 2020-03-21T18:18:39 | 2020-03-21T15:29:52 | 154 | 79 |
[WP] The demon stands amid your destroyed kitchen screaming, "How? How were you able to summon me?!" You're standing in the corner flipping through your grandma's cookbook as fast as you can, screaming back, "I don't know!! You were supposed to be chicken soup!" | "What the hell kinda chicken soup calls for 'Essence of Pure Evil'?!? That's like a required ingredient for summoning me."
"Look I don't know, I just followed what was in the cookbook kinda."
*"Kinda"?*
"Well yea I mean I'm not much of a cook so it was kinda confusing? It said add stock which seems kinda weird but I had these shareholder documents that I just threw in."
"I... you... who the hell adds *paper* to *soup*. What kind of high fiber diet are you on where paper is required to make you regular? Jesus fuck man you really know nothing about cooking do you."
"Look I don't know, I lied and told a tinder match I was a good cook and she's coming over in 20 minutes. I panicked."
"Well maybe now you can list, "Able to summon demons" and catch all those goth gir-Wait hold up, what company were the shares for?"
"Comcast."
"Ah yea that'd do it." | I set the cookbook down and rubbed my eyes frantically, looking back up at the demon in my kitchen. "Calm down!" I told it forcefully. "Screaming won't get either of us anywhere." It stopped screaming and looked at me, mouth open in astonishment at my words. "I knew I should have stuck to sandwiches." I grumbled.
I rubbed my forehead and looked back down at the book. " Have you ever heard of a demon named Todd? My grandmother left me this cookbook and I think he might've helped her write it..." | 2018-07-21T19:49:06 | 2018-07-21T18:49:11 | 1,354 | 62 |
[WP] You jokingly write in the 'terms and conditions' of your software that by accepting them the person's soul is relinquishesd to you. The week after your software goes viral the Devil shows up at your door and he is pissed. | I sat down. I had to. The numbers going up on my screen were starting to make my head swim.
"450,000 downloads! 450.. Thousand!"
"Yeah man. I heard you the first six times. Its only 100 more than last night."
My roommate James was always a bit of a buzz kill. I think he was a little jealous. We had a race to see who could make an app fastest, and then who could get the most downloads. James was sat meekly on around 700. Mine however, had blown up over the last couple days.
"Ha! 450,000 souls. I wonder if ANYONE read the terms and conditions."
"Have you ever read them?"
"No.."
"You could have sold your soul multiple times by now."
"Dude. Your a buzz kill."
"And you're a moron."
I ignored the last comment and just stared at the screen for a few minutes. I was still astounded by the success I was having. I didn't even want to check my bank account yet. And almost with some twisted coincidence, as soon as my mind turned to money a window shattered. It was deafeningly loud. I turned to the closest window by James who was sat on the couch playing Xbox. The window was shattered but nothing had come through. James looked out and nobody was there. As i went to grab the phone i noticed the window in the kitchen was also smashed.
"Uhh James come check your room!" I shouted to him as I ran to check my own. It was broken. What the fuck was going on here. James' was also smashed through. Right.
"Dude, call the police. Someones seen your app is doing well."
That was the first time he's admitted that. I knew saying something would only piss him off so I discreetly had a chuckle and left it. I grabbed my mobile from the table and dialed 999. As i pressed the call button my phone froze. I started jabbing the call button furiously thinking my phone was just playing up. Suddenly it started vibrating. It got more and more violant until the phone got hot. Really hot. I dropped it and it burned a hole straight through the carpet.
"What the -"
Me and James locked eyes in pure disbelief. The front door flew open. The hallway outside our flat was empty. But it was darker than usual. Getting darker. We both stood and watched the entrance get darker until it was pitch black. Red and orange lights started flickering. Dancing in the shadows.. almost like fire. Drums started echoing down the hallway. A sense of dread washing through my veins. But i couldn't move. I couldn't even turn my head to look at James. I could see a shadow in the light of the flames.. emerging from the hall floor.
It came towards the door. A little old lady with a walking stick came around the corner. She had a red head scarf on and i couldn't make out her face. Her dress was old and tattered but still a pure dark red. The same as her scarf.
"F..f..fuck this."
James turned and bolted for his room. Before he made it two steps the old woman threw her stick like a spear and it impaled him to the wall. He instantly burst into flames and both were gone. No mark on the wall. No blood. No James.
"Jealous little bitch, that one."
She turned to me.
"That's how I've had to start collecting souls again. Since your game."
"M..my game?"
"Yes. The one on those stupid things you mortals spend so much time on."
"Uhh.. Umm."
"You've guessed who I am. You know why I'm here."
"B.. but you're an old lady."
"And you're a fucking idiot. Now here sign this and let me get the fuck out of here."
"Sign? If you're who you say you are why don't you just kill me and take them?"
"Because you can't just TAKE souls. Or that fucker would have all of mine."
The old lady looked up. I think I know who she's referring to.
"Why can't I give them to.. him?"
She scowled. She clicked her fingers and the stick reappeared in her hand with steam rising from it. I shuddered. Hard. She walked closer revealing her gentle, kind looking elderly face. She smiled a sweet smile that reminded me of Granny.
"Sweetling. He is not who you think he is. Do you not think he'd have come to you earlier? He knows I would be here as soon as I could. But he does nothing. 400,000 souls aren't nearly enough to worry him. Not to mention at least 350,000 of those were bound for me anyway."
"350 from 400 bound to you? There's not that many evil to good on this planet surely?"
"Exactly. I once enjoyed torturing evil souls. Then they started getting less and less tainted.. until I started getting good people who had only committed minor crimes and payed more than enough back in life."
"So what do you do with them?" I stammered.
Her eyes lit up. A smile emerged from her lips as she looked to the ceiling.
"I'm building an army."
Small edit: Grammar.
| I heard a knock on my door, so I hurried over to open it.
"Hell-"
"How much do you want?"
I was staring up at a tall, light skinned man in a red suit. He was hot. Overly hot. But I'm not gay, he was actually heating up my porch. One of my bonsai started smoking. He was also rather attractive. But as I said, I'm not gay, I mean he was literally pulling my throat towards him.
"How much do you want for the souls?" He barked. "Name your price, human."
I guess I'd better explain. I'm George, and I used to be 32 year old struggling software developer. On my off time, I made a small online MMO called Great Souls. And, knowing that nobody ever reads the terms of service, I joking inserted a clause stating that I receive the immortal soul of all my users smack in the middle. But then it got big, and I guessed that was what the guy wanted to talk about.
"Man, I'm not... looking to sell my game yet. And if you want to make... an offer, use my email or something." I said between gasps.
"I do not speak of your creation. I desire the souls that you have commanded. Bow before me and yield them!"
He released me and I sank to the floor.
"What do you mean?" I gasped. "Do you mean the terms of service joke *worked*?"
"Yes, your trickery worked. I am Lucifer, and those souls are rightfully MINE!"
"Hold up. What are you willing to give me for all the souls that I own? How many do I even have, Mr. Devil?"
"Address me as Lucifer, Angel of Light."
The devil told out some chalk, moved my welcome mat, and drew a quick circle looking thing on it. He tossed me into it, said a few evil sounding words, and said, "169,666. A lucky number. I am prepared to offer you several billion dollars, as many beautiful girls as you wish, and a presidency. Or, I could turn your soul over to the pretender Jesus, instead of torturing you for eternity because you did not render me my souls!" As he said this, I was blown inside my house, and landed in a convenient beanbag. Strangely, the devil flew past me and crashed onto my stack of unpaid bills and Jehovah's Witness pamphlets.
In a brilliant explosion of light, another shorter man appeared on my lawn. This guy was scruffier, with hair all surrounding his face, a white robe, and bloody hands and feet. He walked into the house, all the while dripping blood on the floor.
He shouted, "Hey Lucy! Since when did you believe in luck?" Turning to me, he said, "I'd like to take the souls that you so craftily stole from the devil. But, you did take a few from me as well. You've got a sizable amount of Christians playing that game of yours, and I kinda promised that a Christian would never lose their soul. What would you like in ex-"
I heard a crash from my kitchen, where the devil landed. Instead of a guy in a suit, a big angry *thing* walked out carrying a flaming sword and the remains of one of my flowerpots.
The devil growled "Sorry about this pot. But if you accept my offer, you can buy a million more. I need to have a quick fight with this guy."
Jesus immediately flicked the devil's waist, shattering his sword and blowing away most of the devil's torso. After the devil gathered himself, he said,
"Okay, never mind. Let's play fairly. We can make offers to George and see what he'd like in exchange for his souls.
"Entrance to Heaven and a Porsche once you get there. Nobody ever runs out of gas." Jesus said.
"I can give you immortality and command of a legion of demons.
The bidding grew more intense. Halfway through, a purple guy with some weird skin beard and a golden glove showed up and tried to bid a couple planets, but the devil punched him in the direction of the moon.
***
"A personal pocket universe full of marshmallows and virgins!" cried Jesus.
"I can do that but add several sitcom creators so you always have entertainment!" noted the devil.
I interrupted "Hey guys, forget it! I just want be famous so that people will never forget me. You can manage that, right?"
And Jesus said "Yea, I'm pretty good at that one. Here, let's try this."
And that's how I turned into Harambe.
| 2018-08-11T22:13:21 | 2018-08-11T22:06:18 | 77 | 52 |
[WP] It is 2009. You are the one time traveler to show up to Stephen Hawking’s unannounced time traveler party. You are from 200 years in his future. You have to explain to him why he can never tell anyone you showed up. | "Man, it's good to see you Steph!"
Stephen grinned, patting the couch next to him and handing me a drink.
"I'm assuming by that you mean you haven't seen me in awhile? Tell me, how did I kick the bucket anyway? There's so many interesting people you'll love to meet, I don't get why you wanted to meet here..."
Looking through the window from the outside one more time, assured the door was locked, I climbed in from the roof. I took the liquor and downed it in one swing. High class parties and their small ass portions. Well, Steph always was a lover of the finer things.
"Listen, no one can know I was here."
He looked at me.
"Ok well, no one but you."
"Why's that?"
"No one knows my name yet. But soon they will, and I don't want people associating you with me."
I felt that if he could have taken a step back there, he would have. Instead a slight tilt got his wheelchair moving back a little. Close enough.
"It's for your own good, trust me. Besides," I pulled up the champagne bottle to meet my lips.
"Didn't you want to know how you'd die? The legacy you'd leave behind?"
He'd adjust his glasses if he could.
"Well... yes. How am I remembered?"
An icon of hope. Science and bravery in the face of adversity.
"You gotta understand, 200 years is... A long time..."
He looked down at the cup on his lap. "oh..."
I left it at that, eyeing the door cautiously.
"Why did you come back to meet me?"
"You asked me to."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You never really died. You kept on living. You cured yourself of illness and death. For a few years, despite your age, you felt you got back the youth you never had."
He disappeared from public eye, working on the next big scientific advancement. He nearly got there before he began falling apart again. But nearly was never enough for him
He was afraid he let this second wind slip by, wasted, like those years in the chair.
You didn't die. You lived long and in a body not yet faltering. Your legacy was great. But it wasn't enough. And with your dying breath, you made me promise to eradicate the complacency that laced his work, holding him back from his true potential.
I didn't see it, but he promised it was there.
I looked him in the eye. "You're working on a cure, aren't you?"
"Yes." He looks at me hopefully. "It worked, if you knew me, didn't it?"
It did. But it wouldn't last.
"You lived, but it was in incredible pain. Agony, for years, until your heart gave way and you left us. Steph... you wanted to tell the past you not to bother. It's far beyond your reach. You tried but it didn't work."
"But if I try harder..."
I raised a hand. "Stop."
"It worked for a bit! You saw it for yourself, it's possible. Life extension, it's real!"
"But the suffering-"
"I didn't try hard enough. I will now."
"You won't succeed. As much as I want you to-"
The alarm began to ring, and I could feel myself slipping back to the future.
"This is where I say goodbye. I wish you luck, Steph."
Steph moved towards me, eyes burning with determination.
I looked into them, and smiled. | In the video documentary, a man with a deep base voice will narrate most of it for me. The video will make the event seem magical, but in reality, it's me waiting in a room with many cameras on me in all corners, strange lighting, and the film crew's muffled conversations to one another.
I tried talking to the guy holding the boom mic over me, and made him laugh a couple of times. I said a few things unrelated to the documentary when the camera man interviewed me, but they'll probably get cut.
Most of us here don't know whether to feel anticipation or like this is a big farce; no one wants to pick a side. You risk getting your hopes dashed, or coming to terms with being an unfeeling monster. That is, no one has picked a side in front of me. Everyone has the same unplaceable energy they can't really figure out how to spend.
Two hours later, we're still here though the deadline's gone by. Everyone's in agreement that a time traveler could still be fashionably late. People are still talking to each other. We made extra food for the crew for their wait, and all that champagne has to go somewhere once the bubble's popped. No one looks disappointed; I don't think you could feel disappointed. I tell myself I'm proving something, but I don't truly feel let down, though of course, everyone has moments in the past they want to change or just revisit.
I don't feel let down, I feel like I'm remembering something. I always feel like I'm remembering something, and that by proving its laws, the world's laws, I can't forget it.
5:30. The camera crew is gone. The lights went first while the sun set. PAs are going around taking the set down - I'll have my house back in not half an hour now. The director is chatting with me as I roll with him out to his car parked on the sidewalk. We're exchanging a few pleasantries about time - the subject is a silly one, casual, lots of things to be said to keep the moment fun. As he bends to get into the backseat of his car, watching his pantleg won't get snagged on the door, something's firmly pressed into my palm, though of course, I won't notice it.
Maybe it'll slip out of my hand before someone finds it there. I bet it's a note. I don't close my eyes, but it feels like I'm remembering again, looking at the car door, the tinted window rolling up, but looking upward at the night for hours and hours and hours. Nearby, in a line, they're still pulling boom mics and various electronics out of my house. "Stephen, the time travelers are never in *your* universe. This whole place is yours. For you. Your own."
I rolled back into my house as someone, under either arm, carried the last couple of boom mics out. | 2020-10-17T02:38:41 | 2020-10-17T02:23:37 | 235 | 26 |
[WP] You and your wife decided to raise your daughter on a farm away from flawed modern society, and tell her that you're the only people on earth. When she turns 18, you tell her that it's time to know the truth. You take her to the city and find that there really are no people left. | Isabella was always gifted. We knew that from the day she was born and I held her in my arms.
We had to protect her, covet her from the cruel world that would bite at her. Its rough edges like rusted metal that would tear jarring wounds.
It was safe within our farm. We toiled and did our work, secluded from the rest of the world. Surrounded for miles on end only by gravel and rocks. It was lonely, sure, but we were safe. My dear Isabella was safe.
She didn't know what it meant to have friends, I would see her playing with the animals instead. Chasing the chickens like some cute goliath. I would scold her for rummaging around with the pigs. Her adorable giggles contrasting their oinks. I found it hard to stay mad at her. I found it hard to pretend like I was upset. She seemed so happy.
"We have to tell her." The guilt that kept rising over the years gnawed away at my wife and me, aging us. How wrong we were. How foolish it was for us to think that we knew better. We weren't trying to protect Isabella, we were protecting ourselves. Acting out of our own desire to not see our daughter get hurt. But it was that protection that caused her to grow up to be a fine women and not understand what it meant to live. We deprived her of that.
"Honey, we need to show you something." Isabella mirrored our worried expressions. Our features weathered with age and the weight of our guilt causing our shoulders to slouch.
"Show me what?" She asked.
"It's best if we just show you."
With the rising dawn, Isabella and I got into my truck and drove into the horizon. The sun was rising over the horizon to shine light upon my regret.
Even then, I had second thoughts, I wanted to turn around and for us to stay secluded within our little world in the middle of nowhere, away from the cruel reality of life. Even I had avoided contact with humans for many years, joining my daughter in her cruel punishment.
Would she hate us for depriving her of the truth? For keeping her away from the rest of humanity, caged in by bars made of our own lies and deceit? Or perhaps she would forgive us, and be opened to a world that wished to hurt her.
No -- I could no longer avoid this. I drove on, dust trailing behind us.
The roads lay empty and barren. The city that used to bustle with life was now just unnervingly quiet. It seemed wrong. A stillness that whispered of cold death.
"Where is everyone?" I asked myself as the door to my truck closed shut.
"They don't exist, remember, dad? You told me that."
I turned to Isabella, I had come this far. She had to know the truth one way or another. My lip quivered; perhaps I guided her all the way out here so I did not have to say I lied, that I didn't have to explain to my own daughter what had been done. But it seemed fitting that just as my lips sowed the lie into existence, they too would reap punishment.
"I lied, sweetheart. We aren't the last people on earth. We never were. We wanted to protect you from it all, from the cruelty."
Isabella giggled, that same innocent giggle when she rolled with the pigs, oblivious of lives, just like how her coil-tailed friends were oblivious of their fate as food.
"I know." She said. She was not angry, she was not shocked. She just smiled, a knowing smile that spoke of her adventurous and affable self. She was being coy.
"What do you mean?" I frowned.
"Daddy, I am not an idiot. I always knew that humans existed. I know a lot of things you don't seem to. I also knew why you hid them from me." She shook her head. "I never needed protection, daddy, but I knew you were afraid of them. Afraid of humans. We didn't need them anyway. We have our little farm and we can just live there in our little world."
"Isabella. Dear. What are you saying?"
She giggled. "I made them disappear, daddy. We don't need anyone else, nobody will ever hurt you again. We can be happy."
The abandoned buildings that surrounded us now seemed lonely. Without purpose. Serving instead as tall tombstones for the whole of mankind. A sad and worthless legacy of our civilisation; a civilisation brought to an abrupt end before it could live out a full life.
I realised then, that my innocent daughter was born with godly powers, the ability to bend reality to her will. And it was her naive and unknowing self that acted void of malice, but that unbridled desire to do good without understanding the consequences made her erase all of mankind in an instant.
I created a monster.
***
/r/KikiWrites
***
[Part 2] (https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8gx9lu/wp_you_and_your_wife_decided_to_raise_your/dyflvd5/) | [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8gx9lu/wp_you_and_your_wife_decided_to_raise_your/dyfi6lp/)
“No, no, this can’t be right,” Dan Murphy said, getting out of the car with shaking hands.
His daughter, Brittany, frowned next to him. “What do you mean, it’s not right? Dad, this is what is supposed to be here. You said there was no one left.” Dan took a deep breath, and Brittany felt her frown grow brittle. “Or you brought me out here to finally tell me the truth.”
Dan nodded mutely. “I…it was always our plan to tell you today. It’s how we were raised, and our parents. A tradition that goes back-“
“To when there really were humans, dad?” Brittany got out of the car, walking over to him. Her dad was old, his hair going grey. “I knew it wasn’t true, I knew it!” The truth was, she’d only suspected it for the last couple years, but vindication warped the truth to where she was certain she had it all figured out with that unique certainty only possible to the young.
“Brittany…you have to understand, society was corrupt, it was flawed. But it existed. And now…”
“Now it’s gone,” Brittany finished for him when he seemed unable to go on. She walked a bit of a way down the road. “But…how? You told me it was a plague, do you think that’s what happened?”
Dan shook his head at the same time as he said, “I don’t know, Brit. This…oh God, where did they all go?”
Brittany knew he was taking it poorly, and tried to feel some sympathy for him. It must be a shock to discover the entire human race had vanished when you weren’t looking, but she was finding it hard to be overly concerned. She was just learning that everything she had believed for most of her life to be true and only recently suspected was a lie was, in fact, true – the only shock had been that there had been years when she could have met other people, and didn’t. “Let’s find out what happened. It might not be everyone, after all. It might just be this city, or the country. There’s got to be some clues somewhere.”
Dan leaned against the hood of the car, breathing deeply. “I don’t…Brittany, I don’t think I’m up for it.” He was sixty four, and it was showing. Then again, he’s the only man you know. For all you know, it could be he’s lived long past what’s normal – or he could be in poor shape for his age.
She walked over and helped him back into the car. “Then we need to go back to the farm. You need mom to look at you, you need to take your pills.” *Which I* **knew** *didn’t come from salvage runs, you liar.*
He nodded, and she turned to look at the city one last time. “I want to come back here to explore, though,” she said, half to herself. “I mean, if it’s recent, maybe we could find out what happened, right Dad?”
No answer. She whirled around, suddenly worried that she had been wrong, that this time it wasn’t just another spell, that this time was going to be his last time…
Instead of being unconscious or worse, he was gone. As was the car. An empty, unmarked road sat where just moments ago he’d been in their car. “Dad?” she asked, and all of a sudden she completely felt the terror her father had felt at realizing they were all alone.
It was a hundred miles back to the farm. She didn’t have keys, a map, or any idea how to get back home, and she was stranded in an empty city where cars and fathers vanished without a trace.
“Dad?” she shouted, as if screaming his name would somehow help.
This time, it got an answer. Not from her father. This time it was a low “mrowl,” sounding like one of the cats from the farm, from a nearby alley. She turned to see the cat, glad for some sign of life…and the three-eyed behemoth, easily the size of a horse, with a pair of whip-like tails, crawled out to meet her. It cocked its head and asked “Mow?”
Brittany turned to run, and the cat-monster followed.
---
More at /r/Hydrael_writes
| 2018-05-04T01:46:53 | 2018-05-04T01:42:08 | 2,747 | 162 |
[WP] You bring home a girl. She wants to see the "1" you talked about that shines on your floor. Only now it says "2." It stays like this for years together until one day, it says "4." She says, "Hon, I have some good news. But you should sit down."
Inspired by this post
https://www.reddit.com/r/mildlyinteresting/comments/ilfsl7/_/ | I am what you what would call a house spirit, we are born from the ether and are bound to a house for our existence until it's destroyed. Most house's spirits do not care much for their inhabitants, why the one just across the road houses a vile and spite-full elderly couple; dreadful to be around they are.
Fortunately I was not one such case. I was made on the 1st of June 1995 and was introduced to the Tellons a month later. A nice if albeit distant family, they were nice company and took care of me well. In return I made sure that I was fit to be called their home, from alerting them to any pesky rats scurrying about to filling the air with a comforting earthy smell. Or as I like to call it the smell of home. When their daughter and sons moved out a few decades later and they sold the house, I was prepared to go.
To my surprise I was bought and refurbished by no one, an almost faceless team of foreign men came to see the job done. Curiously enough they covered up my basement and moved the pipes there around, waste of time and effort that was.
After some time, one Mr Dorrin became the Master of the house. At the time, I found him to be a rather boring young man. Staying out for days at a time, only to return just to shower and go to sleep. No family pictures and scarcely any personal items, the man barely had a presence at home.
He was often quite sad as well, often staring off into the distance or staying in bed all day. I had to get him to do something with himself, now didn't I? The have floors needed moping, shelves needed dusting; no Master of my household will be allowed to languish like this.
First, I started by making the furniture creak until he could not sit peacefully on them for too long. The pipes started 'mysteriously' singing when the furniture was not enough to get him out of his funk, but no matter what I made creak, groan or any kind of strange noise he would not get up. I even popped a pipe to get him to do something! The man had the gall to turn the pipe off and just use another bathroom.
Through all this I've literally been collecting dust, at this rate he'll become a part of the furniture. Clearly inconveniencing him into action was not working, it was time for another approach.
**Part 1** | I opened my door, walked in tiredly, and so did the girl, but with a happier and more eager look.
'So this is where you live! Look so much better than my imagination!'
If you had three hundred years lonely in a forest, at least your house should be decent, I thought to myself.
'Oh, is this the number you were talking about!' She exclaimed, looking at the floor, 'but it says 2 though? I thought you said it was 1'
'Hmm, no idea.' I looked briefly at the floor. Just a weird spell that came along with the wood I took from that gnome bastard. If not for the excellent fire resistant quality I would have thrown it away.
The girl was quickly distracted by a giant crystal I got from the icy volcanoes some 50 years ago. I couldn't care less, so I went for a nap.
Some time had passed. Probably 10 years, because the girl looked mature now. By human age, she was maybe around half way through. After some brief thinking, I flew to the South. Those mermaids had some great beauty tips.
'Hon, I have some good news. But you should sit down.'
The girl, or I should say the woman, greeted me with a happy look on her face when I came back. I slowly walked in, and noticed that the number on the floor had turned 4.
Had it always been 4? My thought wandered a bit. What was the number for again?
A sharp pain woke me up from my thought. The woman was still smiling in front of me, similar to the day when she first came. I glanced down, and see the number quickly blew up.
'A thousand, oh my.' I pulled the sword out of my back, and crushed the heads of two peasant humans that dared to attack me. The woman face slowly distorted, an ugly scream came out of her mouth.
It was a lovely dinner.
Too bad you couldn't enjoy it with me. | 2020-09-03T02:41:55 | 2020-09-03T02:34:46 | 34 | 10 |
[WP] You've found a strange app that pays you $100 every time you perform a listed task. The various tasks are strange, from moving an empty box from one park bench to another, to calling a specific number only to hang up. But you always get your $100 so you won't stop now. | With massive student loans and no-one taking my research seriously, I was desperate for money.
I heard about the $100 app from a friend. It seemed too good to be true, but I was desperate.
A task a day. More if you were lucky? More if you performed well? Something like that. Were did the money even come from? Some eccentric billionaire?
It didn't matter. I was getting the money. Move an empty box from one bench to another. Call a number and immediately hang up. Strange tasks.
*1 task incomplete*
I've been working on that one a while, fortunately I've still been getting my daily task. Perhaps they expect it to take a while and are OK with me not having finished it yet. I was sent an incredibly detailed blue print for a small machine part or something. Finally I screw the final screw into place.
*Complete - $100 Rewarded*
*1 new task - Urgent - complete within 1 hour for $100 reward*
I press the read task button.
*Go to central train station*
Easy enough, I leave the house and start walking.
About half an hour later I arrive.
*Stand in this location for reward*
The screen displayed a specific location in the station, so I walked there.
*Complete - $100 reward*
What was so special about this location? I looked to my left and saw it, the new counter terrorism system mounted on the wall. And the key was left in the override system, which if turned would trigger an alert.
*1 new task - Urgent - complete within 5 minutes for reward*
I press read task.
*Turn the key*
Surely that would be illegal? I couldn't could I? But I found my hand on the key and I found myself turning it.
*Complete - $100 Reward*
Alarms sound.
"This is a terrorism alert, please evacuate the station immediately" said a voice over the tannoy.
I quickly made my way out the station, adrenaline pumping. Perhaps I'd gone too far. Surely I'd get in trouble for this. As I walked out, armed police and bomb diffusers made there way in. I decided to walk home quickly.
When I got home I turned the TV onto the news.
"This is breaking news live, there's been a terrorist incident at central station, we go over to our reporter." Said the man.
He was stood near the station.
"Yes, yes, that's right. Official word is the system detected a bomb and caused an alert. This caused 3 incoming trains to come to an emergency stop. This means those trains are outside the blast radius. Also the station has been safely evacuated." He said.
"This just in, bomb diffusers have just diffused the bomb" he said.
"And this just in, the wanted terrorist Albam Sadid was caught and arrested near the station" he said.
Wow. Was that all really my doing? How could the app know about this in advance?
I decided to call it an early night and lie down and think.
*Beep, beep*
My alarm went off in the morning. Another presentation for funding. Should I even bother going? I'm the laughing stock of the physicist community.
*1 new task - complete for $100 reward*
I click read task.
*Go to presentation. Bring device with you*
Never before had it been so personal. And it wants be to bring that thing i built with me? Perhaps I am to drop it off somewhere after the presentation.
As per usual, I took out my blue prints and started explaining my idea. The usual reactions, sniggers, the usual comments.
"Not something that can actually be built"
"Entirely theoretical"
"Impossible"
I walked out depressed, but then something to make me smile.
*Complete - $100 reward*
*1 new task - complete for $100 reward*
I click read task.
*Deliver device to warehouse at this location*
I guess this was expected.
I walk to the warehouse nearby, and open the large doors.
Inside was a sight to behold, thousands of small machine parts of different shapes and sizes.
I delicately place my part down and add it to the collection.
*Complete - $100 Rewarded*
*1 new task - complete for $100 reward*
I click read task.
*Build the machine*
I look at the immense task in front of me. But how? My phone wasn't displaying any blueprints. Perhaps an error with the app?
Then I realised. I had the blueprints with me. I'd just presented them.
I began to click the parts together. It was easier than I expected, as the parts were designed to be easily assembled.
And then hours later I looked upon the finished creation. The impossible machine.
*Complete - $100 Rewarded*
*1 new task - complete for $100 reward*
I click read task.
*Create this app* | The small loading bar on my iPhone loaded quickly as I had just found an app that looked interesting.
It had a bright icon with small white text under it reading '$100' I honestly had no idea what to expect. I just hoped that the app would end this boredom engulfing me. It was Thursday and everyone else had homework up to their necks but myself.
"Buy a sport drink for $100" the app read in big font. I was particularly thirsty, so I headed out to get food. I stopped at the nearest gas station near my small home and bought myself a bad of chips and a bottle of Gatorade. Once I seated myself in the car, I unlocked my phone to check my twitter account, however the objective had changed. It was no longer to get a sport drink, but now to go trim three leaves off of a stranger's bush.
I looked at it for several moments, confused.
"Well, Alright." I muttered with confusion. I then noticed a bar at the top with a drop down menu. I tapped it and tapped on the 'completed tasks' bar. There was a check next to buying a sport drink, Which led me to wonder if I had really just recieved $100. I turned the car on and drove back to my home, by then it was nearly pitch black.
The cars zoomed across the road beside me as mine sped in its own direction. Quickly, I realized that the app could have just linked with my credit card and it was all a scare trick, perhaps I needed to change the password. I sighed in relief at knowing that it was just a small joke.
I walked into the home confidently. Slowly, making my way into my room, something caught my eye. It was a brand new 100 dollar bill. I inspected it carefully; it was real. I threw my belongings, including the Gatorade and bag of chips on my bed as I grabbed a pair of scissors and darted outside. I ran down the street to a neighbor's house.
I inspected the house and noticed a bush in the back, I slowly cut off three leaves, not one more, not one less. I didn't want to lose the hundred dollars. I sprinted back to my home with lightning-like speed and inspected my desk. There on the desk sat another crisp hundred dollar bill.
"This has to be some prank or something." I said to myself. I walked through the main living area and checked on both of my roommates. Liam was staring intently at his book, unphased by his surroundings, and Alex was dead asleep, his Biology textbook opened up and on his chest.
I nervously opened up my phone to see what the next achievement was. 'Give a homeless man 13 crayons.' It read. I ran to the household junk drawer and scavenged for any crayons we might have had. I managed to find three, but I needed more, I needed a homeless man.
I realized that I needed to calm down, the app would still be there in the morning and that I needed to rest. I would have the entirety of tomorrow to earn plenty of cash.
Upon waking up, I skipped eating breakfast despite the fact that Liam was cooking for us, an extremely rare luxury. I stopped at the dollar store and bought a pack of crayons. There was no clause preventing me from getting different crayons. Luckily, I had the three from earlier, which saved me from buying a second package of 12 crayons.
I saw a man walking along the grass with a trash bag roughly 3 minutes from the dollar store. I jumped out of my car and sprinted to hand him the crayons and I took off to the house.
I busted into my room and picked up the bill neatly printed with $100 on it. What was the next task? I had to know, I hit my phone with frustration as it had frozen. When it began to work again, I typed in my password and anxiously waited for the app to load.
'Kill someone.'
I looked at the text confused. Then it slowly underlined itself. I stared at it for what seemed like hours, but in the end, I closed the app and then deleted it for whatever this app's purpose was. It wasn't going to be one that required me.
___
This is my first writing prompt, and one of my first fully written stories as I am not very good at efficiently completing one. Please feel free to leave me constructive criticism, or even just criticism. | 2016-10-26T01:29:29 | 2016-10-25T21:31:00 | 1,303 | 247 |
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