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]. “Ok. This is called a .44 magnum. All you have to do is point this end at Voldemort’s head and press this button. That’s all you have to do to end our problem”. | “Alohomora.”
Voldemort spoke with command and confidence. He was here to put an end to that stupid prophesy about a ‘*Chosen One*’ once and for all. Nothing and no one would stop him. It was his destiny to restore wizards to their rightful, pure blooded ruling caste in this world.
James leapt for the drawer under his desk. “Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off.”
What was once Tom Riddle came pacing through the entryway. No Death Eaters. No Dementors. No tricks. It was this family of mediocre mages against him, the most powerful wizard in two generations.
James scrambled to grab his wand in his left hand and shut the false bottom in the base of his desk drawer.
“Hello, Potters. I know you’re home. I came to see your darling baby boy. What did you name the little bundle of *joy*? Nothing strange, I hope. He might not be able to live with it otherwise. Ha! hahaha...,” the self-proclaimed Dark Lord laughed gently at his own joke and moved further into the small home in Godric’s Hollow.
Upstairs a door slammed shut and a tiny cry could be heard, small but clear. “Now now. No hiding from Uncle Voldy,” he chided. Turning to look toward the source of the sound.
Behind him, James stood up from inside the study. Even without turning around, Voldemort could feel an arm raise and point in his direction.
“Expelliarmus!” In a flourish of black robes and lightening reflexes, he spun and disarmed the pathetic man standing behind him.
James felt his wand go flying out of his hand and spinning into the darkness somewhere in the kitchen. The look of mild surprise and questioning on Voldemort’s face lasted a fraction of a second. It almost made him look human again. *click*
“AVADA KA-“
*BOOM*
A heap of black robes hit the floor and a splattering of crimson flung itself up the staircase and reached halfway up to the ceiling on the wall beside them.
James’ whole body was shaking, his ears were ringing from the bark of the strange American device Mad Eye has given him many months ago, and a good portion of his lower arm was numb.
“What a strange and wild world those muggles must live in,” he said.
His son was crying upstairs. Placing the smoking object back into its hiding spot and closing the drawers, James went to reunite with his family. They’d need to call Sirius next. | Doug opened the case, light glinting off the barrel.
He push it twords Hermione, quickly explaining what it was and how to use it.
Hermione's laughter cut through the room making Ron and Harry jump with surprise. Could this really be the answer to their problems. Hermione had said they could trust Doug, that he was a friend from her childhood, that they still saw each other over the summer.
"Doug, do you really think I don't know what a gun is?" Hermione said "I know my parents were dentists but I've seen movies. A simple projectile will only damage his physical form, and that's assuming he hasn't already placed spells to stop it from impacting him."
"But if he's a wizard he wouldn't know to protect himself from guns!" Doug insisted.
"Hes muggle born, it's not uncommon, hell my mum was, and I was raised by muggles, I also thought about guns when this all started but it's kinda like bringing a spear to a nuke fight." Harry chimed in annoyed about the conversation, this would get them no closer to destroying a horcrux.
"So were proper Fucked then?" Said Doug defeated.
"Well no," Hermione spoke again "we've actually come to speak about your area of expertise, could you analyze this compound and perhaps help us make more?" She held out a cloth wrapped basilisk fang
"Be very careful with it, the venom is incredibly powerful, we should only need a few drops to destroy the horcruxes but it's very difficult to come by." She added as Doug reached for the fang.
"It may take a little while but I'll run it though some of my equipment, see if I can figure out its composition and if it's even possible to synthisize."
"How is a muggle going to make basilisk venom, he doesn't even have a proper cauldron." Said Ron looking through a boiling flask.
"Atoms are a fixed thing mate, you can't trust them, they make up everything." Doug said putting the fang in a suspension device and attempting to draw some venom.
"That doesn't answer my question at all." Ron said exasperated, he slunk into the grimy chair, "it's going to be a long and confusing night." | 2018-12-24T20:14:50 | 2018-12-24T19:13:47 | 1,137 | 91 |
[WP] Write a murder from the perspective of a cheerful inanimate object
The object could also be the murder weapon or cause of death itself.
**E1:** *[Didn't expect this many responses, great writing everyone!](http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20070623144510/uncyclopedia/images/2/2f/Cowbell2.gif)*
**E2:** *Holy prompt responses Batman!*
**E3:** *Atheist god bless you all, it's 9 days later and people are still submitting! Whoo hoo!* | ^((I ^may ^just ^turn ^this ^in ^today ^for ^Writing ^Class. ^If ^you ^find ^this ^Prof ^KS, ^hi!)^)
She put me in the window today! Oh it’s so nice and sunny out. You know, artificial light just doesn’t work as well for charging my solar panels. How can my leaves bounce and my smiling flower-face bob from side to side without proper sunlight? Very slowly, that’s how. But now that I’m in the window I am shaking my groove thang like my owner on a Wii-Fit!
What a nice console that Wii is. He’s always so cheerful and peppy. You know, when I was still under the lamp by the computer, he would turn on and give me work out tips?
“And one, and two, and move those leaves! And up, and down, and now you’ve got it! Perfect score!”
He’s so nice. Everyone in this apartment is so nice! The blender always pulses “Good morning” in Morse code to me too, well, not just to me, she’s saying it to everyone, but that doesn’t make it less appreciated.
And that Roomba! Don’t get me started. Do you know he rescued the iPod? He did. iPod had fallen right under the couch and Miss Person had given up looking. She was even lamenting that she’d have to buy a new one- could you imagine? Being replaced like that? Well Roomba launched a search-and-rescue and just pushed iPod right out into the open. We were all cheering so loud, and iPod started getting emotional and playing Triumphant Marches. Roomba’s just so brave, his rotor could have gotten stuck with all those dust bunnies.
| I guess you could say I've seen things - travelled the world and all that - and so I suppose I should be grateful that it was he who bought me, who chose me as his favourite; that he always wears such smart things for his best and most thrilling jobs, and me. I sit close against soft weaves and heavy fabrics, fancy buttons sometimes - and I'm his constant. It's mostly the same to me, though. I ride along half-nestled in silk, smooth and languid and unhurried; a room in a nice hotel, measured rise and slow fall; someone else - another man, and in a beautiful suit, usually; perhaps a start, or the beginnings of a pink mouth open to wail. Bang, bang. The patterns, when they come, are a lovely red. I'd ache for a silk with colour like that.
We leave, more quickly, after. I know because I count the time. It won't be long before I'm gone again, put away with his other killing things. The times in between are long, but these days are worth it. I spend the darkness remembering the silk, the weave. Bang, bang - the colours. Bang, bang. That's my constant. | 2014-05-27T07:15:09 | 2014-05-27T06:19:43 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] you have the ability to hold full conversations with plants. you’ve only ever spoken to civilised pot plants living in houses or cafes. out of curiosity, you decide to speak with a lonely weed living in a dark alleyway. | "Y-You.. You can talk?" The weed stammered.
"I gotta say, this is weird for both of us." I said. I had previously spoken to cultivated house plants, but never something outside. For some reason, it never occurred to me. I thought the cultivation and contact with humans gave plants the ability to talk to me. Maybe I'm the one with the ability to talk to them?
"Well," the weed said, "this is big news, big news indeed. Hey, can you do me a favor?"
"Huh? What is it?" I asked. Do plants ask for favors? Do plants need favors?
"It's just my cousin Greg, he's never gonna believe this. A talking human. Who would think? Anyway he's just down the street, next to the drive way two houses down, can't miss it. It would be great if you just walk up to him and say something like "Beautiful day isn't it? I bet old George is having a great time!" Go on, say that, it would just be the best."
"Umm" I pause, trying to process all this. None of the house plants were so... social? It was always me and them. I didn't think plants had cousins. This was surreal. "Ok, but how do you know where Greg is?" I ask, "You can't... see him from here, can you?" I don't think plants can see at all, with the lack of eyeballs and everything, but I didn't know what other word to use.
"What do you mean?" The weed replied. "He's in the network, isn't he?"
"Network?" My brain felt like it was crashing trying to process this.
"Yea, the network. I have no idea how you humans keep connected, but us plants, we got roots, you know? We got _roots_."
"I... huh. So... how many are in your network?" I asked.
"Ha, just about every plant, I suppose. Maybe not the Imprisoned, they live in houses and can't reach us with their roots, bless their souls. But every other plant? Sure. I can tell you what some old lady is speaking in the next city over, if you want."
"You.. what?" My eyes widened as I started to realise what the weed—George—was saying. "You mean the network spans _cities_? And you can _hear_ people? Not just people like.. not just me?"
"Sure can" George replied. "Never seen a human who can communicate with plants, no, but the network has heard enough over the years to know what your languages mean. Tell you what. If you give me a sprinkle of water, I'll tell you whatever you want to know. Anything any human has said in the presence of the network. Tit for tat, eh?"
I slowly sat down on the ground, next to George. This was a lot to think about. I've just gone from an odd boy who talks to the plants he waters, to something else entirely. What do I do with this information, this ability? I could get into a lot of trouble, very quickly. But if I play this right, George and I could live a pretty nice life. Pretty nice indeed. | “How are you doing?”
“How am I doing? Are you fucking asking me *how* I am doing? How dare you!”
“I am sorry. I was just trying to make conversation…”
“Trying to make conversation? Make conversa- alright, alright… let’s have a conversation, shall we? You asked how I am doing? I am doing *just fine!* All day long I am chilling in my little corner, soaking up all the little specks of sunlight minding my own damn business. The world is peachy. Everything is alright until one of those flesh filled sacks comes wobbling into my alley taking a piss on my leaves! Yeah, you heard right: piss on my leaves! Do you have any idea what that feels like? ‘Watering the plants’ they say. They even *laugh* as they are doing it. Laugh! And you ask how I am fucking doing? Oh and don’t get me started on the nights! The nights are the worst! Everybody knows humans are filthy walking flesh blobs, but at night they are really showing it! Oh the things I have seen! Only last night a guy and a woman came tumbling into my alley their grubby hands all over each other. They didn’t even acknowledge me! They showed their wobbly behinds and made very *unpleasant* sounds. After a few moments they cover their heinous arses and leave, leaving this little crusty gift behind. Oh and all the trash! Don’t get me started on the trash! What do you morons think this alley is? A dumpster? It’s my home, for heaven’s sake! And you are ruining it! And you ask me how I am doing!”
“Eh.. I am sorry you have to go through all of these unpleasant experiences…”
“Yeah, you better be! You are one of them!”
“... Uhm… would you like to move?”
“Move? Move where?”
“Into my garden… It’s not much… just a little green patch behind my flat but you could root there and make some friends… I have daisies and some tulips in the spring…”
“Pah! Daisies! Nobody likes daisies! These cute little chatty bitches can stay far away from me!”
“So you don’t want to come with me?”
“Hell nah! This alley might not be much but it is *my* alley. I was born here and I will die here! Now, if you could please take that nasty piece of rubber with you when you leave, that would be great!”
“Urgh… uhm… alright… It was nice talking to you…. Maybe I will be back soon to check in on you…”
“I hope not!” | 2020-02-18T10:45:53 | 2020-02-18T09:09:50 | 47 | 25 |
[WP] Mother Earth isn't just a metaphor. The entire Earth ecosystem is in fact a sapient whole. The only reason we don't see aliens is because Mother Earth is super xenophobic and kills any non-terran life that appears. Aliens learned this the hard way and are not sure how to handle humans. | Shawrek Louf of the Northern Spires wondered what exactly the Terrans could want. Their ambassadors had said defense technology. However, Shawrek found it hard to believe that Terrans of all people needed something to defend their planet. What had they called their enemy? The Lovosians. Well, if Shawrek wasn’t familiar with them, they were probably as new to interstellar matters as the Terrans. They were probably quite the warmongering bunch too if the Alliance hadn’t bothered with them.
In other words, they were infants puffing up their chests at mountains.
Shawrek didn’t feel the need to use a holofigure to make the Terran ambassador feel at ease. They looked quite similar. And being two feet taller than who you were negotiating with did have its advantages.
As he entered the room, the ambassador stood and gave a perfect bow. He had been studying. It was a rather pointless gesture, as far as Shawrek was concerned, but appreciated nonetheless.
He returned the bow. “Please be seated. Or stand, if you wish. This meeting will be short.”
That made the stocky bald man frown as he took a seat. The medals and such pinned to his coat caught Shawrek’s attention. Very nice. They had a similar custom in their own military.
“Mister Louf, we want to establish a mutually beneficial relationship,” the ambassador said. “I’m sure there’s something your people need. We are more than willing to supply any natural resources in exchange for weapons to defend ourselves.”
“Kelorak will be happy to trade once Terra establishes a secondary colony,” Shawrek said. “You must understand that asking an Alliance Planet to trade with no on-planet enforcers is out of the question.”
“Earth would be happy to accommodate any of your trade officials.”
“Terra would be, yes, but not Earth. The distinction is important, ambassador."
“With all due respect, Mr. Louf, I’m not sure I understand your meaning.”
That gave Shawrek pause. It couldn’t be. No, there was no way they didn’t know. Had they tamed it? No, none of the other parasites could ever be touched. Had none of the other officials told them? Well, perhaps the Terrans had only been meeting with the sickeningly polite Allies. Or the ones that never spoke outside of given subjects. Shawrek could very clearly picture the Borians saying, “Well, you never asked.”
He sighed. “Ambassador, you do understand what your planet *is*, correct?”
The man raised an eyebrow. “What are you implying?”
Shawrek started laughing. So much made sense now! Why the Terrans had been desperately looking for weapons, why they set up immigration channels, why they thought themselves a backwater where nobody wanted to go. Yes, why would someone go through all that effort if they knew their planet was a monstrosity? That it would kill any visitors? To any space-faring race, it should’ve been obvious. Their sensors should have developed enough to see the *thing* at the core of their world. Had they gotten lucky with the other basics?
The ambassador stood up. “If we are finished here--"
“Hold on, ambassador,” Shawrek said. “I apologize. It’s just..” He chuckled. “We will give you some sensor technology. When you return home, aim the sensor at your planet and take a *good, long look*. It will all make sense.”
The ambassador clenched his teeth as he nodded. “We will accept your gift with the utmost gratitude.”
Shawrek nodded. “Come back once you establish a secondary colony. Far away from Earth. The Alliance will welcome the Terrans with open arms.”
#
Four months later.
Shawrek smiled as he saw the news posting. The Lovosians had brought their entire fleet to the Terran system and were wiped out within the hour. A thread-like beam of golden light was responsible. The same beam had destroyed a great many innocent travelers. The Alliance had long ago quarantined the system, of course, but there was no stopping the occasional fools. They couldn't enforce every danger zone.
In an interview with a Terran general, they said they lured the Lovosians to their system through simple taunting. The occasional fools indeed.
Shawrek had a feeling he’d be meeting with that ambassador again very soon. | (It prompted something a bit different, but w/e, hope you enjoy.)
She followed us through Lactomedra, up past Sigmus 04, Armstrong Station and even to Pioneer 1's Monument. A dark and toxic garbage island of radioactive plastic life floating intently with pure malice. It followed us unnoticed, system after system, Star after Star. Petulant and indignant of her fate. Gaia, our mother; Earth herself dragged her carcass, fighting entropy and any other lifeforms that dared even question how such a thing existed. The first or last of its kind? Something wholly unique? None knew, and none dared even beg the question anymore. All that had approached had been so violently, mercilessly destroyed, be they conquerors or simply curious, that word had spread quick across the systems- the Earth had come to collect her children from the neighbours... and she was not ringing any bells to announce herself.
The first time I saw Her... lit up by the photons of a Binary system and hurtling towards her progeny like a mad stalker, I evacuated my bowels. It was something I had never experienced before. I'd like to think I have always had an immense control over my body. I learned how to regulate my own temperature at the age of 3, could beat most in martial combat by the age of 9 and could hold my breath for 2 hours by the time I was 25 years old- a prodigy by any Human standard, no matter which diaspora we come from. But I shit my pants as that starry night was given fireworks for juxtaposition.
Fleets of our host planet's armies- the venerable and stoic United Navy of Golla- exploded in the terrible darkness of space without so much as a hint of what had destroyed them. They approached the irregular movements of the celestial body with caution, not suspecting any more than we did at the time that it could possibly be a planet, let alone OUR planet. How could one even consider that possibility when we saw such a thing, after all? We had come to Golla only 30 cycles before and were welcomed with open arms as their very first contact. We provided them clean nuclear fusion and globalized politics and they repaid us with a home. A beautiful home. More beautiful than She was in her prime, some would claim. Maybe she had overheard their voices from lightyears away... maybe she had been hurt by our shunning of her surface in favour of vast emptiness. Maybe she had been moving towards us from day one, but slowly picked up speed as the ages went on. All we know, is that as she appeared in the system, stations began disappearing from the grid. And when the powers-that-be tested their mettle against Her, there was nothing left of them but frozen, broken metal floating like an artificial Oort Cloud.
We tried to run, we tried to stay, we tried to go back to her. Whatever we did made no change to her seemingly one-track mind: find her Humans, for whatever reason, and kill anything else in her way.
Soon, they wouldn't take us in as refugees anywhere. There are rumblings through quantum chatter that the very first Galactic Council will be formed as a direct result of the threat. They knew the Earth would inevitably come after one group of us or another. We split into a million millions. It will take her even more millions of years to even come close to one of us again. We evolved well beyond what we were when we left Her. But a mother always knows her child, no? Especially Her. She has a long memory... and no forgiveness... nobody knows what happens to those of us who decide to go back to her. They all seem to land on the surface without issue, but transmissions are quickly lost. They never leave again. All communications being cut off, the only way to confirm they're even surviving, let alone thriving on our elder's home would be to go there yourself... and be sure you are human first, or else you won't even breach what's left of the atmosphere. | 2020-11-23T11:31:18 | 2020-11-23T11:11:19 | 46 | 27 |
[WP] It was a simple mission. Infiltrate the League of Heros, rank up, and steal their intel. But then one day a little boy baked you cookies, another day a little girl told you you're her favorite hero. Worst of all? People finally smile when you enter a room. | *I’m saving you so you can see the world I own.*
There is much debate about why the hero’s always win. Is it that they are just stronger? I needed to know. Some suggest it’s our villain ego, too many of my kind get caught up in monologue. Others believe it’s their cooperation with each other and the police, but are those numbers enough to explain their near perfect record? One person suggested something that made others laugh.
The mad scientist banged his hand on the pipe. Cursing as blood swelled in his bruises fist. “A disgusting sewer? I am a distinguished inventor, I should dine with royalty.”
“If only you hadn’t failed in your quest for world domination.” I said, a delectable rat waddling in the crappy water drawing my attention.
He growled and clapped, right in front of my face. The loud sound ringing in my large sensitive ears. “shut up street rat, I took you off the curb and I can put you back. If only it wasn’t for those damned heros.”
I folded my wings over my head, protecting my eyes from seeing the super villain. “oh thanks, I love being a flying rodent. You really saved me, chief.”
He growled and pulled out a plastic bottle filled with pennies. It had a dreadful jingle that I’d recognize from a mile away. “Of all the things to make it out of my lab, it had to be this stupid bat brat.”
I flew up to the ceiling, latching onto a pipe and hanging above the man, holding my claws into my ears. “Only sore losers blame their underlings for losing!” I yelled. “Besides, if your death Rays could walk, I’m sure they would’ve made it out too.”
“It makes no sense!” He yelled, shaking his fists. The pennies clanged so loud, I fell face first on the slimy concrete. “I had every advantage, planned for everything, I even trapped them.” He looked down at me so I could parrot him.
I didn’t like the scientist, but without him I would probably be dead in a gutter. Though looking at my current surroundings, that didn’t sound half bad. I nodded.
“It has to be *that*, it makes no sense, but there’s no other alternative.”
“What is *that*?” I asked, shaking the sound of rattling pennies out of my ears.
“The power of justice.*
I blinked, then shook my head again, thinking the clanking change had messes with my hearing. “Did you just say the power of justice?” A smile cracked at the corner of my lips.
The man chased away my amusement with a threatening shake of his hand. I cowered away from the coins, but they didn’t rattle this time. Then the scientist laughed.
“Yes, yes, this is it! This is my hypothesis,” he smiled wickedly at me. “And I need to test it. Gather information.”
He grabbed under my arms and lifted me into the air. “You will enroll into the heroes’ internship, project Innocence. You will become a real hero and figure out what this power of justice really is... And then...” He cocked his head back and laughed, his crooked bite much more terrifying than my pathetic fangs. “I will take my place as rightful ruler of the world! I will live in the luxury I deserve.”
I raised my claw. “um one question. You want me, a lowly, failed experiment, minion, that makes babies cry, to become a hero?” | Time out!
*record scratch*
Hi boys and girls! You MUST be wondering how the bad guy is now a good guy! Well I'm NOT a good guy. Ok, so they treat me nicely and show me respect. Can I spend respect at a vending machine? No, I can't. Look at these smiles as they see me! Look at these gifts they give me! It's all lies. The minute I do one small thing they don't like, my social stock shrinks!
So NO! I'm NOT going native. I'm going to hit Hero level 5 so I can get the intel I need on the League of Bozos. The cover ups for the damage they cause, the lies they tell everyone so their social stock doesn't plummet, and whatever the hell else goes on in there. In fact... wait.
Who is this kid walking up to me? "Kid! Did you NOT hear me say timeout? You're not frozen. How are you not frozen?" Why is this kid just staring at me. What's in his hand? "Mister, I'm sorry. I just wanted to make you some cookies. I didn't mean to bother you." Well shit. "No, kid look. Thanks. Really. But I called timeout. You're interrupting my 4th wall break!" The kid just shrugs and walks away. Unbelievable! I've had all I can stand for today. GOING HOME!
Oh... uh... time in.
--The next day--
Ok, no. As in HELL no. To rank up to Hero 4 I have to wear... spandex? I mean, my ass looks GREAT in spandex. Doesn't mean I want everyone just ogling it, undressing me with their eyes, fantasizing about squeezing the cheeks while gently caressing... uh... FOCUS! "Why yes generic white super hero, I'm THRILLED to wear these spanks... I mean spandex!" He shook his head. "My name is Ultra Man and you don't have a choice" he replied as he unceremoniously handed them to me. Getting the feeling he might not like me. I like him.
I leave the building with my new yoga outfit and... what's this? A small human child with traditionally female features and clothing? It's trying to communicate with me. What's that? I'm its favorite super hero? Ok this has gone way too far. It's making me feel warm... and fuzzy. Like I'm sitting with a cup of hot cocoa at my best friend's house while we watch dog mating videos on youtube. Oh god I AM going native. "Uh, small child, um... thank you?" She smiled and ran back to her mother. At this rate I may end up liking this ballet outfit they're going to have me wearing. | 2021-01-25T21:55:18 | 2021-01-25T21:19:23 | 63 | 33 |
[WP]Death Eaters win The battle of Hogwarts killing all opposition and breaking a one thousand year old truce between muggles and wizards. Lord Voldemort must now face the full might of the United Kingdoms' military. | **Not really UK or military, but oh well.**
*They say that fiction is often based on fact.
It was in the early 80's when the muggles had one of the biggest technological breakthroughs seen in their history. It was simultaneously one of their biggest secrets...*
Beads of sweat appeared on Voldemort's face, glistening against the glow of his wand. "*AVADA KEDAVRA*," he bellowed, sending electric green jets at the face of the man standing in front of him. This time, the sound was deafening. Chunks of earth burst into the sky and dust enveloped the scene. In between haggard, raspy breaths his smile slowly widened. He was sure of his success this time. He had given it his all against this man, this statue, without seeing promising results.
Voldemort barely saw the man before he heard him. His spell had again failed him. Only a faint red glow was discernible through the thick dust.
"*You wizards have always had one flaw with your most powerful curses. The muggles were desperate to find a way to exploit that. When the technology finally caught up, they produced several 'individuals' like me. For what's the point of a killing curse, if the target was never alive*?"
Voldemort's face scrunched up in anger. This man, his voice sounded...off. He couldn't take it, he had to know. "*SHOW YOURSELF! SHOW ME WHO YOU ARE? How are you still even STANDING?!*"
The man emerged from the dust, only his skin was damaged by the most powerful of all wizard spells. He looked down at Voldemort, who was now quivering in fear. The man drew a pistol from his hip, and pointed it at the dark lord.
"*Hasta la vista, baby.*" | "*Imperio*!" Voldemort hissed at yet another officer, bending him to his will.
The muggles were growing desperate. They could not target an army that could teleport away. They could not fight when their own command chain was compromised by one single word. Every water reserve had been poisoned, no matter how well guarded. Civilian casualties numbered over eight million on the first day.
It all started when Harry came to Voldemort to die. It was as if people were expecting him to survive the killing curse once more... but he didn't. The moment that happened, all that was left was to secure his snake, and immortality would ensure his conquests.
Bullets ripped through his head... only to have his head reweave itself. Grenades shattered his body, only to have it reconstituted. He cackled at the growing desperation of his enemies. Bellatrix was torturing some poor sod. His screams were blood-curdling. He finally stood before the Prime Minister.
"*Imperio*!" he said unceremoniously. The Prime Minister's eyes lost their focus. He knelt and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robe.
Forty eight hours after the death of Harry Potter, the United Kingdom had fallen. In the next two days, the only muggles remaining were the military, poised for conquest. This is the story of World War Three, and how it all could have been avoided if one teen would have refused to die. | 2014-10-12T03:37:00 | 2014-10-12T00:03:30 | 135 | 40 |
[WP] You have died and gone to Hell. You wonder what your eternal punishment will be as you see Satan approach. He is quite happy to see you, stating that he is impressed with what you've done with your life and offers to promote you to be the 8th Deadly Sin. | “Welcome to Hell!” shouted Satan, popping a bottle of champagne. He dashed the liquid all over me. I was not pleased.
“Why am I here?” I asked. *Please don’t be the hentai, please don’t be the hentai, please don’t be the hentai.*
“It was the hentai,” said Satan gravely.
I hung my head in shame.
Satan burst out into jovial laughter, his horned head shaking. “I’m just messing you with you, buddy. It’s not because of the animated porn, though it definitely didn’t help.”
“Then why?” I asked quickly, trying to change the subject.
“I’ve had my eye on you for quite some time,” said Satan. “Ever since you were 5 years old and pissed yourself because you were too busy playing with your Legos and didn’t want to get up.”
“I was in the middle of a build,” I muttered.
“Then there was that time when you were 8, and instead of doing your math homework you pretended to, even though in that *same* amount of time you could’ve just done your homework.”
“Multiplication is bullshit,” I said, kicking at the hellish rock with my feet.
“How about when you were in high school, and instead of writing your English essay on Lord of the Flies, you napped for 16 hours and wrote it on the bus ride to school by copy-pasting from Sparknotes?”
“Have you been watching me my whole life?” I cried, throwing my hands up in the air.
“Most of it,” said Satan, grinning. “But here’s the kicker: I loved it! I loved your awful, disgusting behaviour so much I rerouted you from Heaven. So, you’re welcome!”
I gaped. “You took me away from Heaven for Hell? Not cool, man!”
Satan shook his head. “Hell gets a bad rap. It’s really not that bad, once you get used to the tortured screams, bad wifi, and dry air. Plus, it’s especially not that bad when you’re one of the 7—sorry, *8* Deadly Sins.” Satan nudged me with a red elbow and wagged his eyebrows.
“What are you talking about?” I asked wearily, because I was already tired of Satan’s shit.
“I’m giving you a job, kid!” he shouted excitedly, jumping up and down. “You’re going to be my new Deadly Sin. Procrastination!”
I frowned. “Isn’t there already Sloth for that?”
“Yes, but you’re just so good at Procrastination that I decided to split up Sloth’s duties. Besides, Sloth’s getting old. Not many people consider Sloth these days. But Procrastination? That’s like an iPhone these days; everyone has it!”
I sighed. “And there’s no way I can refuse?” I didn’t die just to work for all eternity.
“Nope!” said Satan cheerfully. He dropped an arm around my shoulders and began walking me through the infernal gates. “But here’s the thing, once you see the new game lounge I’m putting in, you won’t want to leave!”
I sighed again, but then a thought occurred to me. “Any chance you could introduce me to Lust?”
Satan laughed and grinned. “Oh kid,” he said, “you’re going to fit in just fine.”
---
chk out profl 4 moar stry O.o | I’m standing in a red haze under an ashen sky. It smells like rotten eggs. The fuck? Oh, right.
“Ahahahahahahaha,” I hear a demonic voice cackle, growing louder with the hoofbeats approaching: an eight-foot-tall, musclebound devil with cloven hooves, horns, flaming hair, and an ugly-ass goatee, smiling ear to ear. “Oh hell, oh hell, oh hell…” He stops in front of me, dancing between his hooves and furiously rubbing his knuckles together. “It’s you! It’s really you! I’m a big, big fan of your work!”
I look around, like this must be some kind of welcome to hell hazing prank. Just me and the devil. “You don’t say. Satan?”
“Oh, no need to be so formal, you don’t have to use my title. Just ‘Lu’ is fine.” He visibly stifles the urge to fanboy squee again. “Sorry, where are my manners? Can I get you anything? Food, drink, souls of the damned?”
“That a joke?”
“No! No joke.”
I expect nothing, but I figure why the heaven not call his bluff. “Devil’s food cake, your best single malt Islay, a pack of the smoothest cigarettes Hell has to offer… you got succubus strippers?”
Satan bellows a mirthful laugh that seems to shake all of Hell around me without troubling me at all. “Yes, yes, of course!” He snaps his fingers, materializing a plush lounge chair, a matching ottoman, and a pair of small tables on either side with all of my requested luxuries, excepting the strippers. I’m about to ask when he snaps his other hand, and two succubi appear on either side of him. “Ladies, look who’s here!” They swoon and titter, blowing me kisses.
I shoot ‘Lu’ a sidelong glance. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’s your game here?”
“Game? It’s been millennia since anyone’s fully invented a whole new deadly sin. There aren’t even words for it yet – but there is someone who embodies it!” He beams a toothy grin at me. “We’ll need to get you set up with your own circle, a new kind of devil, maybe some temptations to help other mortals follow in your footsteps. But that can all wait. For now, you can just kick back and celebrate, my friend!”
“No punishment, then?”
“Disappointed? I’m sure these ladies would be happy to oblige if you want.”
“You sure this is Hell?”
Lu chuckles. “Don’t listen to the propaganda from upstairs. They want to rope everyone into singing in a choir forever. Hell isn’t a prison, it’s a *party*, and you’re the hottest new MC!” | 2020-07-25T23:23:44 | 2020-07-25T23:18:46 | 1,922 | 249 |
[WP] I (78, F) am a witch, was paid by a princess to cast a True Love Spell on her to save her from an arranged marriage...The spell might put her in a coma or turn her into a beast, WIBTA if I do it? | ESH. You're getting paid to cast a True Love Spell, BY THE PRINCESS GOING INTO AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE? Did you both get hit with a stupify jinx before this agreement was made? Best case scenario, you put the princess in front of a mirror and she finally learns to love herself (barf), unless you're somehow able to get the arranged hubby in on this hairbrained plan. What's a lot more likely is she falls in love with some rando walking around, and that's bad for everyone. Not to mention the considerable side effects of meddling with the heart's true desires, WHICH YOU SHOULD BE FULLY AWARE OF IF YOU'RE CALLING YOURSELF A WITCH.
You've already accepted payment, so you're duty bound to fulfill your promise to the princess, you dumbass. I guess get ready for a long line of brave knights looking to vanquish you to remove the curse you set on the princess. You know how this situation looks to the village commoners, no amount of PR is going to get you out of this shitshow. My advice? Pack your bags BEFORE you cast this spell, and start trying out new names for the new life you're about to run away to. | If this is your standard A6 (Royalty) scenario, she’s likely already been introduced to the idea of magic having unexpected consequences. I’ll go ahead and assume that you gave her the prerequisite cryptic verses about the price of magic often taking unexpected shapes; if you haven’t, do so IMMEDIATELY. Unless you can ensure that your client was acceptably, mildly aware of potential side effects, you could be held liable. I’ve seen too many amateur witches receive ironic yet appropriate punishments in the Court of the Seelie Queen for reckless divining after failing to adequately warn their clients.
Of course, the specifics will vary from district to district, but unless you’re dealing in A6-D (Royalty of Myths and Legends) clientele, you’ve likely already taken the appropriate measures. NTA. | 2022-11-26T08:55:32 | 2022-11-26T08:20:16 | 44 | 31 |
[WP] Your butler has served you faithfully for twenty years, working hard, offering sage advice and never complaining. One day, you see his bank balance. He's a billionaire. | Bruce had always been there for my family. Or, at least, he'd been there as long as I can remember. He'd been patient, kind, understanding. And more than that, he'd been a good friend to me.
I can still remember the days when I was still a scrawny child, always being laughed at by other school kids. When I came home in tears, he was there, waiting, armed with advice and coffee. When I came home battered and bruised one day when I was in middle school, he was there, waiting, armed with both kindness and rage. He decided that he'd had enough, that it was time he taught me to protect myself.
Things changed after that. He was still the kind man I'd always known, but he had something new in him now. Some sort of motivation. I never could figure out why he personally taught me - my family is well off enough that they could send me to any martial arts school they wanted, and he always looked so worn out after each lesson. He always said it was just his arthritis flaring up.
Ten years later, my closest friend, Bruce, the family butler, was on his deathbed. He collapsed last night while making himself a cup of tea. I remember hearing the crash and climbing out of bed, to find him on the kitchen floor, bleeding where he had fallen on top of his favorite, now-broken mug. The doctors say his joints just gave out, that the synovial bursae in his knees had long since worn away into nothing. His bones were just... Grinding against eachother every day he worked for us, for twenty years, and we never even noticed. And he'd never said anything about it. I can hardly imagine that kind of pain.
The doctor said it was lucky I found him, that if his joints hadn't gone out last night, they would've never been able to make him comfortable during his last hours as the cancer we never knew he had killed him. A couple minutes after the doctor gave him a shot of some sort of painkiller or stimulant, Bruce opened his eyes. He seemed distant.
"Bruce, can you hear me?"
"Of course I can hear you, kid. I'm dying, not deaf."
I didn't know what to say. The doctors had said he only had a few minutes to say his goodbyes before he left us. We sat in silence together for a while, but when he started drifting away, I knew I had to ask him.
"Bruce, why did you help me so much when I was a kid...? I don't understand why you'd put yourself through that kind of torture..."
"A close friend of mine did the same for me when I was a child. He helped me become who I was supposed to be, and I..." He trailed off and coughed a few times before continuing. "I figured I should do the same for someone else. In my old age, I wanted to be a hero to someone one last time, and joining your family was the only thing that came to mind. Now go. I need some peace before the end, and you need to get back to your studies."
I nodded and got up to leave the room. As I closed the door, our eyes met for the last time. He was smiling. When I got home, I returned to the manor study to complete an essay for college, but only completed a couple paragraphs before hearing the doorbell ring. It took a few moments to remember Bruce wasn't going to answer it for me anymore.
I opened the door to find a package at my feet, addressed to me. So I took it to the study and opened it. A stack of paperwork slid out - financial details, a will stating that while Bruce's money was all to go to various charities and universities, I was to inherit his old house, and everything in it. I flipped through the pages of the documents until I came across some bank statements, and my eyes widened. Bruce wasn't just a butler, he was a billionaire. And in hindsight, I think I now know exactly which billionaire he was. | I sat tentatively across from this man who I’d known my whole life, but couldn’t recognise. For what reason would he keep his fortune a secret? I wanted to believe that my ever-loyal butler had the purest of intentions, but every conclusion that I was drawn to was frighteningly bleak. Has he been stealing from my family? Was he always a billionaire? This seemed the more likely, but if so, what sick reason could he have to devote all of his time, both day and night, to watching a child?
I came to know of his fortune entirely by accident. In fact, my intentions were not for snooping reasons, but rather to fill out his Christmas bonus.
After 20 years of service to my family, I felt it was time for something special. I wanted his bank balance to be equal to EXACTLY the number of hours he has been with us. My dad calls me melodramatic. Called me. But, in fact, to get his bank balance to a crisp $175,200, I would have to REMOVE over 13 and a half billion.
“Steak’s delicious, Harold” I said, breaking the silence that I realised we had lapsed into.
“Thank you, master.” He responded, standing on the opposite end of a needlessly long table. “I wrestled the boar into submission myself.”
On any other day this would’ve received a poisoned sarcastic quip. Steak doesn’t come from boar. Boar aren’t even IN Australia. Instead I caught myself nodding and staring at him, enthralled. Who was I to question this man? In fact, who was this man full stop?
The silence continued for several seconds. He narrowed his eyes at me before inquiring, “is everything as is, master?”
“Of course, Harold”, that was TOO obviously an out of character polite response. Asking me a question during my eating time? That was forbidden and would’ve earnt him a pay dock. I had to dial it back. “Is there a reason it shouldn’t be?” I asked, regaining some of my usual gratuitously argumentative nature.
“No. why no reason at all, sir.”
I did not like the way he was looking at me. Quickly I excused myself with a “Well, I’m off bed, see you tomorrow but-head.” Was the response I forced out nonchalantly. I called him that sometimes when I was younger, thinking myself clever. It still made me chuckle a bit, but it was far too much. Too jovial for the atmosphere of the room, and I left quickly discerning his reaction.
That night I slept, in the loosest sense of the word, with my door locked and myself leant against it clutching my grandfathers antique letter opener. What still to this day chills me to my bone is what I held upon waking up. Relative to most horror movies, even the bad ones, this little thing in my hand is horrible paled by comparison. However, those are fiction, and this reality shook me to my core. As I awoke, I glanced at the piece of papery plastic in my hand. A tiny, 10cm by 10cm thing that keeps me up at night 17 years later. A tiny, 10cm by 10cm thing that I did not hold when I fell asleep.
It was a single polaroid photo. Of a man leaning against a door, fast asleep, holding an antique letter opener. There was no mistaking the person in the photo. My deceased father of almost a year. Who issued every single Christmas bonus.
| 2018-06-03T11:06:24 | 2018-06-03T10:34:05 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] After 4000 Years of Hibernation, the Pantheon of Gods awaken and see humans have forgotten them. Consumed by rage, they curse the cities with extreme weather. The gods are shocked and confused when they see the weather not resulting in mass deaths as they planned.
Inspired due to the heat in Aus and Cold in America. | "ITS BEEN 14 YEARS" bellowed Poseidon, "and death are only majorly caused by age and war?". The god of the sea was getting restless, even though he had been asleep since ancient times. "Apollo is doing well with his ebola, and Hades is working on Yellowstone, Why aren't my hurricanes doing anything major?"
Since 2005, the great god of the sea has been working tirelessly to cause as many hurricanes and tropical storms as possible. "Only 8 deaths?!, the last one was supposed to be catastrophic! These humans really have become more resilient."
​
With every god of the pantheon working without end on trying to punish humans in any way possible, none have had much success.
Ares trying to begin world war 3 has been fruitless thanks to the united nations.
Artemis and her attempt to cause the extinction of major species was stopped by nature preserves.
Hera has caused many birth defects and disorders, but society doesn't seem to care.
Demeter has been thrown out of the picture thanks to genetic modification.
And don't even get me started on Aphrodite.
​
it seems as though every gods attempt to punish humanity has gone completely without repercussions.
Although zeus seems to be the only one impacting the humans, playing the long term game, his idea is simple yet it is causing the most damage. He calls it thermo incline, the humans call it global warming. | Cracks of light fractured the night sky and connected with lightning towers around the city. Thunder rolled overhead in concussive waves. Nature had transformed into a strobe light that pulsed ceaselessly just outside my window.
And then, just as quickly as it began, it stopped. Aside from the smell of ozone, and a brief moment of silence, the city resumed it's usual rhythm. Cars honked. Angry drivers shouted obscenities in the streets below. And the L train continued to roar as it passed by every hour.
Though, despite the return of the familiar, something lingered in the air that I couldn't quite place. Under the usual bustle and clamor of Brooklyn in July, there was a new sound, barely perceptible. An invisible fragment of the storm that had wedged itself firmly in my room. And although neither I nor anyone else that sensed it would ever be able to describe what it was, the sound was the tiny scream of an impotent deity raging at a world that it could no longer punish for the crime of having long since passed it by. | 2019-02-01T22:29:13 | 2019-02-01T21:01:05 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] One day a time portal opens in your backyard and a time traveler comes through. You quickly realize he just came back from making some change to the past and that, to him, our world is the terrifying alternative time line resulting from that change. | "Wait a sec... just... gimme a second"... said Commander Blackwell.
The time traveler paused after watching the rush hour commuters trying to navigate the stop & go traffic. "You mean to tell me there aren't any fusion powered personal pods, and that these vehicles all run on petroleum?"
"Yup." Officer Richards answered nonchalantly, "Why do you ask?"
Commander Blackwell was too lost in thought to answer.
"And you people have fought WARS for access to petroleum?!" He seemed incredulous.
Blackwell kept rubbing his temples... his eyes were bloodshot as he stared at Richards, uncontrollably muttering quietly under his breath.
It wasn't until a week after the time traveller jumped back into the portal that Richards finally understood what he'd been whispering to himself.
"They didn't listen to Commander Tesla." | "Is... is that..." The man stuttered, his shaking finger pointing to the sound in the distance.
I sighed. "Yeah. It's a fucking leaf blower."
His eyes squinted with pain, his body nearly collapsed as he moved his finger to the red button on his belt.
"WAIT!" I screamed, running down the lawn. "TAKE ME WITH - "
But I was too late. | 2015-11-13T16:05:52 | 2015-11-13T14:10:23 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] Two fathers are called in to the principal's office after their kids got into a fight. The principal is concerned about disciplining their children but the fathers are more interested in whose kid won the fight. | “Mr. Smith, Mr. Wesson, I’ve called you in here today for a very important matter”, Principal Johnson began, “it concerns your boys. They’ve been fighting.”
The two fathers were remarkably similar men. Both were in their late forties and had begun to go grey. They were about the same height, and both were built like they had once been athletic, but years of fatherhood and beer had softened them some. The two even had sons the same age, Roger Smith and Scott Wesson. These young men currently sat, heads down, in two chairs beside the principal. Roger had a bag of ice on his face and Scott sported some minor cuts and bruises.
“I don’t know how it started, and these boys won’t say anything, but we had to break them up at recess. This is the second time it’s happened. I’m hoping we can resolve the issue today and that it won’t happen again.” Principal Johnson continued.
Mr. Smith spoke up first, “Certainly, certainly, we can’t have our boys fighting every recess. Our families have known each other for years now, I would hate if Scott got hurt.”
“Exactly”, Mr. Wesson chimed in, “if my boy hurt Roger I don’t know how I would sleep at night.”
“I am glad you two gentlemen understand the situation. I don’t want to punish your boys, but if I catch them fighting one more time I will have to. I hope you can have a talk with them.”, Principal Johnson replied.
But Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson kept speaking.
“Now I don’t see how Roger would get hurt, with the size advantage he has, fighting with Scott is unfair to the poor kid.”, Mr. Smith said in response to Mr. Wesson.
“Size advantage? Please, they are practically the same size, and Scott is much quicker. I mean, why do you think Roger has a bag of ice and Scott doesn’t? I think what happened is clear.”, Mr. Wesson turned to Principal Johnson, “thank you for stopping the fight. I will talk with Scott tonight about not fighting.”
“Wait just a minute”, Mr. Smith interjected, “don’t think I am going to sit here and take these insults about my son. It is obvious that the fight was stopped before he could get any real damage in. He would wipe the floor with Scott.”
Principal Johnson was flabbergasted. “Gentlemen, the purpose of this wasn’t to decide which of your sons would win in a fight, it is to prevent them from fighting. Now you two don’t seem capable of instilling the lesson in them. As such I will be forced to give them detention.”
Scott and Roger finally spoke up, in unison, “Detention?! Anything but detention!”
“If you two promise to never fight again I’ll let it slide, but one more time and you both are suspended.”, Principal Johnson said, turning to the boys.
“Yes sir”, both boys responded.
But the two fathers were still scowling at each other, neither willing to back down from his assertion that his son would be victorious. They both secretly formulated a plan to ensure their son would win the fight.
Many years later the two fathers watched with pride as their sons finally faced off, this time for all the marbles. But alas, a clear victor was determined when, in 1998, The Undertaker threw Mankind off Hell In A Cell, and plummeted 16 ft. through an announcer’s table.
| Both sat twirling their small fingers as the petite woman with braided brown hair sat in her black cushioned chair. The men sat on uncomfortable wooden seats.
"I call you today for your children, Brian and Joseph. It appears they got in a fight."
The men took side glances at each other, but continued to let her speak. The first father, a man with reddish side-parted hair, stared especially hard at the second with piercing glances.
"They're in the nurse's office right now. Brian broke his wrist, Joseph lost three teeth. They haven't spoken about how the fight started-"
"I'm sorry, I need to interrupt.", the reddish-haired man said. The brown-haired father looked at him with a blank stare, but his eyes said interest.
"What will it be, Mr. Plativok?"
"Who won the fight?"
"Excuse me?"
"I want to know who won."
"This is highly inappropriate Mr. Plativok-"
"I agree, I also want to know.", the brown-haired man exclaimed, pushing himself straight in the chair. The petite principal stared surprised at both.
"No one won, we don't even know what the fight was about. You're acting like a child."
"It was probably my Brian", Mr. Plativok bragged, "I've been training him in fistfighting for years."
"Your kid? Didn't know blobs had muscle."
"You have no room to talk, your kid looks like the Scarecrow, especially without the arm strength."
"Least my kid can actually do his homework without the help of a tutor."
"Least my kid can-"
"STOP THIS INSTANT!"
Both men stared at the petite woman. She sighed and took off her wired glasses to clean them. Carefully slipping them back on, Mr. Platovik noticed her temple is throbbing.
"Your boys are in second grade. They are not supposed to beat each other to the point of breaking or losing parts of themselves. What is wrong with you?"
Both men looked at each other. Then they stared back at the petite woman.
Then they stared back at each other.
"So, who's paying expenses?"
"Expenses?", the petite woman questioned.
"My kid broke his wrist. I don't have the money to pay for that."
"You'll have to situate with it yourself. I'm sure you can do it.
Both men smirked at "decide".
"How about we fight?"
"I'll beat you to a pulp, don't even try."
"Mr. Plativok-"
"First to pass out loses."
"You're on, jackoff."
"Don't sweat it ginger."
"Get out of my office."
Mr. Sarath stopped in the middle of his next insult.
"But-"
"Just leave. Your wife will pick up the children."
The men shrugged, and then angrily side-glanced each other. Leaving their chairs, they fought over who left the room first. When they left, the petite woman phoned Mr. Plativok's wife.
"Your husband took his medicine, right?" | 2017-07-25T08:27:29 | 2017-07-25T08:02:31 | 210 | 15 |
[WP] After witnessing a death, a young girl falls in love with the Grim Reaper. She becomes a serial killer just to see him more often. | "Jesus *FUCK*!" If I could gag, I would. A dead body, torn and ribboned like a frayed cloth doll dipped in scarlet lay discarded in a cheap motel room.
A woman steps out of a shower, her hair up in a towel and no other apparent form of modesty, save for the steam that rises from her skin. I, out of a shame that she didn't seeming have herself, didn't look, not that I had to- I knew who she was.
And by God, what an utter hatter she is. This one included, she's killed 32 people, each one getting more and more... exotic. Now, I have tried- I did- I tried to be the tall, scary, stoic Death that people tend to think of, but this is just horrific. Genuinely, as a man (or... whatever) who roams the fields of war and stalks the hospital wards, I have never seen such *undoing* done with such attention to detail.
"Do.. You like It? I worked Very Hard to Make this Special for Us." She said. She came around me, gently gliding her finger across my black robe, pushing in slightly to feel the contours of my bones.
"Wha- If I may be *so bold* as to ask, WHY?"
"Well, I just Wanted to See You again." She said, just barely above a whisper.
"This is too far. You know you're going to Hell for this?"
"I was going to hell anyways. But I don't have to go just yet. We can just stay here... for tonight." I try to reply but she cuts me off before I can. "Every time I see you, you only show up for a second and wander off with some poor soul!"
"Yeah, because you killed them! Because that's my job!"
She gives me a pout and pulls herself closer to me.
"Well, can't you take a break from your job for once?" She protests. "I thought Love was supposed to be able to conquer Death! For one night, can't it just be you and me?"
I look down at her for the first time tonight and shake my head.
"Why do you think I'm here to begin with?" As I point to her body, torn and ribboned on the bed. | "Please stop," Death said exasperatedly, facepalming himself with his skeletal hand as he stood over the thirteenth body this month. "Seriously Patricia, you're making my job harder, not easier, and believe it or not it's actually pretty creepy."
The knife she had used clattered to the floor as she jumped up and down, making a noise that was cross between a giggle and a gasp. "You know my naaaame!" She squealed, completely missing the point.
Death sighed and turned his attention to the corpse. He took the soul of the deceased in his satchel while she flounced over to him, trying not to engage her by looking her in the eyes.
She screeched as the colorful orb of human essence exited the mouth of the dead man. She put her hands on Death's bony shoulders and squeezed. "You're the only one for me. I just know I can make you happy if you give me a chance!"
Death finished the job and turned around, putting his arm out to put some distance between them. She was quite handsy. "I'm gonna go now..." He said as he awkwardly side stepped to the entrance of the cellar. "Please don't do this again."
"But it's so romantic!" She pouted as he mounted the stairs. "We'll never be apart for long! No matter what happens, I can always find you... with murder!"
Death had the heebie jeebies, so at this point he decided to make a run for it. She made to follow so he slammed the cellar door behind him to buy a few seconds.
By the time she came out he was gone. All that was left of her true love was a whisper on the wind that in her heart she knew was for her and her alone: *"Don't."*
| 2017-09-28T15:20:16 | 2017-06-07T19:02:04 | 153 | 95 |
[WP] You’ve spent a lifetime doing research. Combing through records spanning over a billion years. Now you’re ready to present your findings. All of the 124 know sentient species can trace their origins to a single common ancestor. An extinct race know as humans from a dead world know as earth.
I posted this prompt awhile ago, got no stories from it. I really like the idea, so figured I’d try again, maybe get some this time. | Giant seed-banks floating in space, that is the best way to describe them.
Lumbering former asteroids from the belts of the old Terran system, hollowed out, fitted with sub-light engines, packed with the best examples of the species held in cryopreservation and flung into the depths of space to colonize new worlds beyond their solar system.
So inefficient in design that it would take them thousands of years to reach their nearest star systems.
And yet they chose to go out into the emptiness of space, frozen for millennia, just for a chance to begin a new civilization on a distant world.
you can tell the era of the seedships by their designs, the oldest nothing wore than raw rock with engines strapped to them, the later designs more refined, processed materials, faster propulsion, more intelligent guidance systems.
Nothing compared to our modern systems of course. basic electronic computation units, not even fit for use in a child's toy now.
But still they sent out their seedships, first singly then as time progressed dozens then hundreds at a time as the population of Terra expanded and the need for room reached crisis levels.
From time to time a seedship will enter a system and disgorge its cargo onto a planet, all automated based on simple rules, temperature in a certain range, gravity within human tolerances, atmosphere matching earthlike conditions.
Doesn't matter if the planet is populated or not their computer systems are too simple to make the determination.
And thats where our job begins, welcoming our ancestors onto the new worlds they left to form without realizing that someone who left after them could arrive before them based simply on the fact technology advances and one day faster than light would be possible.
Based on the old records there are still millions of seedships slowly making their way through space on courses that have no records, undetectable by even our finest instruments because of their low energy emissions.
I cannot imagine how it is for them, thinking they would be the first humans to reach their worlds only to discover they were the last to arrive. | "... it is not all of these ' humans' to which we owe our existence. By their year 2200, the majority of their population had begun to decline. All of their needs, all of their desires, had been satisfied, and with those desires also ended all of their drives. Their questions have been answered. Their reason to exist, fulfilled. Without Fanfare, they slipped away Into Obscurity.
But there was one group who did not go quietly Into the Night. One group, whose fundamental needs could not be so easily met on their Homeworld. Cast out by their own people , they fled into the Stars, searching that one thing that they had so very much desired. And it is to these tireless searchers that we owe our existence.
For, you see, each of them had each of them had within themselves a soul that was more than human. Each of them had a ceaseless desire to seek out and become one with those of their own kin. With frightfully advanced technology, they finally succeeded in their goal , and a thousand new species were born.
It is to them we owe our existence. It is to them we owe our thanks.
And so I propose that this day be set down in perpetuity and forever more, renamed a permanent Memorial to these brave souls who sent out to ensure our existence! Let's the name they chose for themselves be be enshrined in history forever!
Let this day be forever known as... Intergalactic Furry Day! | 2019-11-22T15:42:23 | 2019-11-22T15:29:33 | 51 | 10 |
[WP]Killing Hitler has become a sport amongst time travelers. Points are awarded for creativity and difficulty. You are last year's champion, how did you win? | The Hitler Games have been a huge hit when it became public in the 24th century. Sure, in the past people did it just for fun. Then came the betting of "Hey, betcha I can kill Hitler better than you." People put hundreds, then thousands of dollars to try and one-up each other on this simple task. The end result was the same all around: Hitler dead, Allies win World War 2.
Some people didn't have the right imagination for this, so they started to have stand-ins for themselves. People who have entire lives dedicated to killing one man over and over. Started calling themselves the Anti-Gestapo out of sheer irony. It was only a matter of time until the Global Television Network played a couple of the more popular videos on their news networks and from there it became cemented in our culture.
Eventually people started to get in each other's way when setting up traps, or bringing down objects at the same time as each other. That's when the first Time Travel War actually happened, during World War 2 of all places. And over Hitler. It's amazing how stupid and greedy people can get. Laws were passed and then the first Hitler Games came to be.
People had to try out for their nation to enter. Then whoever won the Hitler Games won a substantial amount of money, fame for their country, and the most important part, however they killed him became the true history.
You see, time loves to stay in a straight line. Always heading in one direction. You can pick your starting point on the line, but your always going forwards. If there is a contradiction between what everyone knows as the past and you changing that, time just ignores that little inconsistency and it becomes a small footnote in time. The Grandfather Paradox was proven wrong by the first time traveler, no doubt. An eccentric man by the name of Viktor Odell wrote theories proving this paradox wrong but was always ignored by his fellow colleagues. So he invented it, went back and killed his grandfather. Came back with a signed photo from his grandmother with him standing next to the body. He was quickly put away, but was released due to the statute of limitations has passed. Viktor patented the time machine and soon everyone was killing and raping in the past. Then came the *second* Time Travel War. Yes, it happens in that order.
So for the past couple of years Germany has won the Hitler Games. Cheating bastards always had the upper hand. But last year, someone from a different nation won: me from Canada. How'd I win? Well, everyone loves the big explosion, the last gasp. I went a different route.
At first I made Hitler strong, made him win a few battles. Give him confidence in his nation's strength and in himself. Think he literally can take on the whole world. Then, I took everything away. Big losses in the war, one after another. But I still kept him alive. If there were other nation's assassins out to get him, I stopped those guys and made him feel the despair of being on top and falling straight to the bottom. Soon, Hitler was left with only one option: Killing himself.
It's very easy to kill one man. It's very hard to convince one man to kill himself. | The temporal particles faded from sight with a roar of burning spacetime. The silence left behind seeming to sing with a high pure note, tinged with the birdsong of 1940. There in front of me, about 50 yards down the hill was my target. Hitler. The Fuhrer. Head of the nazi party and leader of the German government. He lay in the sunshine, face down on a carved stone bed, modesty only protected by the small white towel wrapped around his hips. The spa was empty, the only way in from below and the guards standing too far away to hear. A soft hum announced the small lift's arrival, the Fuhrer not looking up as the masseuse crossed around behind him started to run his back. The masseuse was a tall Germanic man, his blond hair similar to mine, his features rougher and less attractive though. He finished rubbing the Fuhrer's body and turned to wash the scented oil off of his hands. I hastened my journey down the cliff face, quickly arriving behind the masseuse and plunging the needle into his neck. Quickly stowing his body under the small rock shelf I turned and continued to massage the evil man in front of me, waiting for the right time to strike.
He turned his head, looking me in the eye. I froze, expecting a shout, shots ringing out, pain, but none of this came. The Fuhrer turned face up on the bed, guiding my hand to his erect penis. I was conflicted, I wanted to kill him in the manner that I had set out, but I did not want to draw this out any longer than I had to. I started to reciprocate, watching the pleasure grow on his face. This was not what I wanted at all. I tried to keep the look of disgust off of my face as I brought him off quickly. I plunged the syringe deep into his face, freezing it in place and quickly turning his skin to stone. My plan was to bump into him and turn him into a statue as he turned and tried to shout with his face full of angry fury. This was obviously not what I had achieved. The burning smell of reality particles filled my nasal passages and I was sucked back into my own time. Three years it had taken me to get my name on the list. Three years. I had failed. The prize money would never be mine. The cheer when I got back was deafening. I stood gawping, confused. There was no way for them to have seen what happened no? Only the images of the aftermath.
I looked up at the picture stretched across the wall and immediately new that I had won. I had done it. The year's greatest killing of hitler. The headlines would write themselves: "cum face disgrace at final resting place". | 2016-02-20T10:56:09 | 2016-02-20T08:55:11 | 596 | 49 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | "LETHAL INJECTION ADMINISTERED," came the automated voice from just underneath the button.
I blinked. Was that it?
"Wait, hold on," I paused and turned towards the priest, "You meant I just spent the last 18 years of my life training for the ultimate showdown just so the greatest evil in the universe could be killed with a few chemicals?"
"Yep," the priest, Dogstar, stretched, "Now that that's over with, do you want to get some breakfast?"
"In a second," I held up hands, stopping everything, "Was that just a test? A trick? Is he really just going to come bursting from the ground and doom us all to hell?"
Dogstar glanced at the ground, considering it, "I doubt it."
I shook my head in disbelief, "No, no, no. I want an explanation. Now!"
The priest rolled his heads and sat down, pulling a flask from his pocket. He took a quick drink then gazed at me with slight contempt. I had a feeling this might take awhile.
"Now look, when this all started hundreds of thousands of years ago, sure it was cool and tough. Quite the spectacle, honestly. The Dark Lord would put on his demonic cloak, cast hellfire meteors at everyone, and it would be absolute chaos. But, his powers didn't really count on the power of industrialization," Dogstar sighed.
"You've gotta be kidding me," I groaned.
"So we thought, 'hey, why not just put him down before he regenerates his body in his tomb, save everyone the trouble?' Now we just kill him before he wakes up."
"And all the training?"
"Well the boys and I like to have a little fun. How boring would it be if all we did was press a button every 5000 years? Sheesh. Liven up."
Unable to process any words, I took a seat next to Dogstar, and fell into existentialism as I revaluated the purpose of my life. Everything was a lie. Done and taken care of. Nothing to worry about. What would my skills possibly be useful for?
Maybe the world needed a new Dark Lord. | My eyes darted to the button. Fixated on it. I took a deep breath as I slowly pushed my hand out towards the button.
All it takes in life to make the most difficult decisions is 20 seconds of faith...right?
As the button pushed in, my eyes slowly shut.
I opened my eyes to feel gears winding, cogs spinning, air blowing all around me.
"What is happening?!" - I fearfully asked.
"Just let it happen, let the air flow through you, believe in it" - bellowed the priest
A gush of wind raised my arms up by my side. Pushed on my back to raise me off the ground inch by inch. My eyes clenched shut. I was flying vertically. My body lay horizontally. Higher and higher. The cold wind raised me whilst my sweat dropped below me. I accepted it. I opened my eyes. Opened my hands. Palms faced out. The wind pushed my legs over my head. 100 feet above the ground. The priest looking up with pride.
**Whoooooosh**
The sword came from my left. Infront of my eyes. I saw my reflection in it's blade. Caught in my right hand. I grip it tight. I was in a free fall now.
The fear replaced by adrenaline. The doubt replaced with belief. I land down on my right knee. Sword in hand. The priest looks on at me.
"How do you feel?" - he asked, knowing the answer
I look up at him. I smirk.
"Let's put him to sleep for another 5000 years shall we?" | 2020-11-09T12:50:41 | 2020-11-09T10:15:58 | 949 | 118 |
[WP] You're married to an incredibly muscular man with amazing combat skills. You have a beautiful child. You live in a pastel shaded house with hopeful music playing. In short, you're 100% about to die as part of someone's origin story, and you need to escape before it's too late. |
Well here it is, it is 3:00AM on my son’s thirteenth birthday and I can’t fall asleep. I know what’s coming, every whisper of the wind and clatter of tree branches sends my mind into a flurry of thoughts of the inevitable tragedy that will soon befall me and my husband. Then I hear it.
A click. The sound of the front door lock being picked. *Here they are*. I think as I slip out of bed, careful not to wake my sleeping giant of a husband. I don my slippers and sneak around to the top of the stairs. I can hear them, two masked men putting everything that’s not nailed down into their oversized sack slung over one of their backs. I turn on my flashlight and call out “Hello?” like I must. I creep downstairs, careful to make a *squeak* loud enough to awaken my son.
I walk through the darkness, sure footed enough to find my way around my own house when I spot it, the glow of a flashlight in the living room. I walk ever so slowly to the threshold of the doorway and peek around the corner. Sure enough, I watch as one robber stuffs our very expensive candelabra into the oversized sack and points to the portrait of my husband above the mantelpiece.
“Mommy?”
I wheel around to see my son rubbing sleep out of his eye with one hand and clutching his favorite teddy bear with the other. “Shh!” I respond.
“Who’s there?” One of the robbers call.
A masked man suddenly appears in the doorway. I scream and he tackles me.
“Shut up, just shut your mouth.” The robber shoves his leg into my ribs a little too hard while he covers my mouth with one hand. My son stares in horror at the scene in front of him.
“Melody?” My husband appears at the top of the stairs. I manage to break free of the robbers grip on my mouth.
“Trevor! Run!”
Of course my son is frozen in shock. My husband runs down the stairs and grabs him, running for the door. The other robber moves to block the door, gun in hand and my husband sets Trevor down.
“Please take whatever you want! Just don’t do anything to my wife and son!”
“Come on Mike, we outskie.” Says the robber with the gun. The robber on top of me nods and stands. As the robber heads for the door my husband, in an act of brave stupidity tackles him.
The robber produces his own gun and shoots my husband dead. “Nooooo!” I scream. I stand and go to Trevor. “Honey, head for the back door. Go! Now!” Trevor, his nerves finally catching up to him turns and runs away. I wheel around to the robbers! “You bastards!”
When Trevor is out of sight, I calm down, my husband sits up and the robbers nod. Mike fires three more blanks into the ceiling and I give the most theatrical scream I can. They leave and drive away as the police cars arrive.
....
My son is now fifteen, I watch him in the park as he trains in his third martial art. I myself am disguised as the old woman feeding the birds. It was hard to watch my son grow up without parents but he had to have an origin story. Me and my husband had decided to do it on our own terms, hiring a couple thugs, buying out the law enforcement to declare us dead. I’ll reveal my survival in a few years, when my son defeats his rival, for now I try to stay as involved as I can, in my own way, from the shadows. | The woman in the mirror stares at me. No makeup on her perfect skin, wearing a simple long sleeved shirt in a color that could be... khaki? Gray? Something.
I touch in disbelief a lock of my shiny, dark hair, effortlessly tied in a lazy ponytail.
*Shit.*
Light pours in from the comically large windows on my left. *Who could want for these?* A egomaniacal architect, for sure. Or a voyeur, of course. Or both.
I have a terrible feeling about this. I stare at the floor and I see with no surprise I’m wearing a pair of old jeans and I’m barefoot. *Of course*. Who needs shoes, after all?
I frantically look for any clue that might dismiss my horrible fear, but there is *nothing*. Quite literally. The house is way worse than any combination of an Ikea magazine and the set of a high budget porn. No personality. Nothing I can use.
Except for the pic. I softly swear under my breath as I take it from the counter. Three people on a gorgeous mountain set, apparently advertising for Decathlon or something like this.
There is my face, shyly smiling, same old *fucking* ponytail with perfect locks escaping on the sides.
There is the human equivalent of a cabinet of testosterone, one buff arm around my ridiculously tiny waist.
And there is a third face. No. No no no no. No, please, not a ki-
“Mom?”
*Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck.* I hastily put the photo back on the counter. The poster kid for the perfect childhood is staring at me, all curls and dimples and innocence.
“Yes, honey?”
“Do you think dad’s coming home soon?” He fidgets with something behind his back. I hope it’s not a baseball glove. “He promised we would teach me how to catch properly.”
It’s a baseball glove. *Fuck.*
“Well, honey, it’s our anniversary tonight, so he will be back as he... oh freak.”
Realisation dawns on me as my own voice keeps talking. *Baseball. Anniversary.*
“... Mom?”
“I need to get out of here. And you, too.”
The kid gives me a mischievous smile.
“What?” I blurt out, unnerved by his stare.
“You understood, didn’t you?” He casually leans on the door frame. “Just not *eveything*.”
“We are the disposable family. We better to be on our way before shit hits the fan and...”
“Not so fast, *Mom*.” He takes a step toward me and closes the door with a kick. “You are not going anywhere.”
The room feels darker now. The kid folds his arms on the chest, looking smug.
“It’s a father and son story...” I mutter under my breath.
“Yes, mummy. And you better die gruesomely and leave some nice trauma on us, otherwise we’ll never have a satisfying story to go start with.”
Of course. I’m the disposable wife. I just stare at him, unable to speak.
“And by the way, did you realise you are also pregnant?” He leans close to my perfectly flat belly. “Hello, little sister? Ready to-“
Yes. I smacked my fictional kid and threw him on the bed.
I’m the disposable wife. And tonight I’m going to be horribly murdered.
But only if they *catch me*. | 2019-06-06T13:25:42 | 2019-06-06T13:08:16 | 63 | 23 |
[WP] In your world, magic is wielded by astrologists who form pacts with distant stars. Every star grants a unique power. Upon forming a pact with a star, you gain a glimpse of its worlds and your soul will be pulled to one when your pact ends. You are the first to form a pact with a black hole. | Rinz snapped out of it, the gathered mages were standing around him looking worried. He knew them all but too well, his classmates of the past few years, he even spotted a few off the high mages among them.
"What happened?" he said.
"Welcome back Mr. Saline," high mage Turoc said to him, responsible for them adopting a parent star. "I haven't lost a student so far and I don't plan on starting anytime soon"
Rinz just looked at him shaking his head "How long was I out?" he asked
"A few hours," someone behind him said.
"Now now," Turoc said "give yourself a minute to let the bond settle and then we will see what we have got"
Rinz looked into himself but he couldn't find anything, all he found was a swirling mess of blacks.
"Come on Rinz get up" A student in red robes said. He vaguely recognized him, Jake, yes that was his name. He had a hard time remembering.
"Look Rinz I got a red dwarf," Jake said " fire" as his eyes twinkled and shone. He remembered him as an often shy boy, but that's what the bonding does, it changes you body and soul.
He got up from the chair he had been slumped in the past few hours and stretched .
"Look Rinz" Jake said playing with a flame, as he was looking at it the flame petered out into a puff of smoke.
Jake looked at his hand and shrugged "well still getting used to it."
"Give him some room," the high mage said.
As people started to drift off now the excitement was over only a handful remained, his friends he figures only he had a hard time remembering.
"Now let's see what we have got" high mage Turoc continued. "as I taught you, reach deep inside you"
Rinz tried but as before he got darkness , just black.
"I don't see anything he said, it's just all black"
"Black? , no black stars" Focus Mr. Saline, focus. perhaps you mean brown, the earth magic, lots of old brown dwarves in the region you were looking at.
"No" Rinz said "its as if there isn't anything, no brown not even black just nothingness".
"That's impossible we all saw the link being formed, focus is it white blue, red or brown?" A few of the other high mages started to drift over.
"Wel Mr. Saline" high mage Turoc once more sid a bit more forcefully. "Try an incantation, focus on your hand"
As he was taught he opened the palm and focused on a point in the middle, his head started to spin, around him candles started to flicker and a small tremor could be felt.
"What's going on?" a voice from behind him said
Rinz opened his eyes and turned around, it was one of the archmages, masters of the dominion. Just his luck, being noticed like this was dreadful.
"Archmage-" Rinz stopped as he couldn't remember his name. His robe was a dark brown so she was earth stone and rock but-
"Archmage Vargas" high make Turoc intervened. "It seems Mr. Saline has trouble with the link"
The archmage looked at him, eyes piercing him. A look of surprise came over her face.
"I sense something but its hard to focus on," the archmage said
"Boy," the archmage said after a brief pause. "Focus deep in yourself, and try and gather all that there is inside you.
Rinz did as he was told trying to gather the darkness but the more he pulled on it the more he could feel it slip away into nothing, a vast emptiness . More tremors made him open his eyes, panicked cries sounded as the floor next to him cracked.
The archmage looked frightened. "the spells" she almost whispered "the castle spells are failing, that's impossible"
Suddenly she looked at Rinz and said "Stop it, Mr. Saline"
Rinz shook his head stop what?
"Stop-" the archmage was interrupted by a huge noise coming from the ceiling, stone started to collapse crushing a mage not far from him.
Stretching out her hands the archmage yelled " Get out, I will hold it as long as possible."
Rinz looked at the archmage as sweat appeared on her brow .
"GET OUT " she yelled "Get Out Now" punctuating every word.
More tremors shook the castle as Rinz fled with the remaining students. As he ran through the castle he had a hard time remembering where he was, a red-robed boy pulled him back "This way !" as he shoved him through a door.
Together they ran as around them the castle started to crumble and fall, his head filled with darkness ready to swallow the world. | Chaos, that was what it was. Bloodshed and devastation. But it hadn't always been that way; the first few times that people had been blessed by the stars, we had celebrated. The powers that the Heavens had distilled upon us were unconditional, not bound by the same rules and limits as those of the Mages.
We developed all sorts of abilities—flight, weather manipulation, petrification by eye contact—you name it. By tethering your soul to a star, you claimed its power, and to ensure that no two people shared the same power, no two people could share the same star. It was a glorious thing. People all over the world started Tethering, and developing magic of their own.
Of course, so did I. I was young and naive, hopeful and excitable. The moment I turned 22, I went out in my backyard and threw my head to the sky. Countless stars dotted the night sky, and thousands were already Tethered. We didn't know how we knew, we just *did*. It was my first and only chance to Tether, and I wanted it to be special, so I wanted the star to be special.
I must have spent hours raking the sky for what I thought was a worthy star, and finally, I found it. That was when it all went wrong. I did as they told us to do: pray to the star, form a connection. And it worked. I felt it happen. I *saw* it happen.
The tells weren't usually very distinctive, but this tell, definitely was. The star began to grow brighter, and larger in the sky. I could see people in my neighbourhood coming out to gawk at it. Then other stars began to disappear—I still don't know what happened to the people whose souls were tethered to them, and truth be told, I don't want to.
The star continued to grow, which made even more stars disappear, and then finally, it went black. It was no longer a bright mass of burning gas, it was an enormous rip in the fabric of space—a black hole.
People had noticed me doing my Tethering that night, and began to question whether I'd done something to the star. Impossible of course, but when you're scared you'll think anything. Soon after the police were involved, and then the Mages came. Their magic told them that the star was corrupted, and that it was possible for others to be corrupted as well. They didn't know how that would affect the Starborn—those who had Tethered—but they didn't want to find out. They demanded that all Starborn be handed over, and that people stopped Tethering. Naturally, we refused. The Mages were jealous, we had said, bitter. And so the war began.
For seven years we've warred, and it was all my fault....
"Luke? Luke!" a voice hissed in my ear, tearing me from my thoughts.
"What?" I said, confused. Then I saw the face staring down at me. "Oh, Kenny." Kenny was an old man, with several feet of bushy grey hair and a matching beard. His eyes were blue, and held a hint of insanity—well, slightly more that a hint. He was stocky for his age, and smiled quite often, despite losing so much in the war. "What is it, Ken?"
"Ariya an' Tarif are back. They got something," he said, grinning slyly.
I pushed myself off of the ground, not bothering to brush off—what was the point? My clothes were aged and torn, and looked as though they had been washed in dirt. I followed Kenny through the long, narrow corridor that lead to our base of operations, which was really just an old, demolished high school.
He lead me into what was left of the Chemistry lab, where I found the entire group—minus those who were keeping watch—standing in a circle.
"Go on," Kenny urged me. They made a slight part in the circle to admit me, and I saw another old man, bound in chains. He was sturdy like Kenny, and he wore a brown cloak, with a drawing of the planet on his chest.
"An Earth Mage," I said contemptuously. | 2020-02-21T04:15:24 | 2020-02-21T04:09:32 | 79 | 16 |
[WP] When humans achieve interstellar space flight we discover that we live smack dab in the midst of several massive squabbling ancient alien empires. So we do the only sensible thing we could, and become space Switzerland. | The Nrrrrr delegation was satisfied. They'd spent the last planetary cycles on Terra on official business. The open negotiations had been successful, the usual agreements on communications, on borders, sovereignty, even some small trade agreements. The closed agreements were even better. The Terran are a small empire but with large bank vaults. Bank vaults that are well protected by the Terran forces, but more importantly, by the interests of their clients. It has become known throughout the cluster that any attempts of seizure of the Terran wealth will bring on the united wrath of most unlikely enemies. You do not touch the Terran if you don't want you homeworld glassed six times over. Best yet, the Terran do not ask questions of your deposits and they answer to none of the same.
So, the Nrrrrr delegation was satisfied. Not only had they scored diplomatic points, they had secured an off empire treasury. A self accumulating treasury nonetheless! It had been unheard of before the Terran entered the stage and offered guarded treasury with their mindboggling concept of "interest". They have some truly amazing ingenuity happening behind the scenes, that none of the empires have yet managed to understand how the Terran could make business by providing guarded storage and paying you for it.
Yes, the Nrrrrr delegation was satisfied. They were happy even. As high ranking officials, they'd of course have their own reasons to book a little financial counseling off the schedule. Everybody does it, everybody knows it. Only a fool questions it. Such are the privileges within the Nrrrrr culture.
Indeed, the Nrrrr delegation had reason to be satisfied. The delegates had reason to be happy. And yet, there was more. The delegates were not only satisfied nor happy, they were giddy! Giddy because at their departure, at the ground terminal of the Terran space elevator, the Terran had yet a final surprise; a tiny vendors facility with the most wonderous things! Miniature replicas of their homeworld on tiny pedestals. Woven garments with commemorative imprints. Glass vessels with humorous imagery! Imitation vertical residences with a mechanoid that peeks out and chirps merrily at regular intervals! A wall mounted aquatic lifeform that dances and sings at the activation of a button! And best of all; a brightly coloured triangular fibermesh tube, carrying the most delicious representation of components from the Terran biome, in the shape of aggregated triangular extrusions connected by a lower ridge that breaks apart with the most satisfying of cracks!
Diplomacy and business aside, surely this is the real reason why this tiny house of primates is protected. While in transit, the delegates of the Nrrrr had already sworn to personally ensure nobody of their kind dare ever mess with Terra.
---
Sorry for not proofreading. Not a native English speaker and got me a headache as well. Hope you enjoy. | Life as a mercenary is great, in the midst of the Eternal War. You only get hired for the jobs that require skill, for anything that needs sheer numbers, there's the clone vats of the Athreen, the drone-webs of the Stria'aza, or simply the excess young of the Tr'ik'sta'kla. Mercenary groups are sent for when you need something other than the bludgeon used endlessly on the war worlds. Sometimes, you become a legend, and a new war world replaces an old one.
Truth be told, most of the neighboring polities encourage the Eternal War. It keeps them from being overwhelmed by numbers. That said, there was a surprise that hit everyone and readjusted the map, briefly. A solar system on a non-critical four way border between the Athreen Empire, Stria'aza Republic, the Tr'ik'sta'kla Homeland and the Sta'ik'tr'kla Freedom turned out to have native sophonts. The 1.25x average mass single star system hadn't been considered to be a source of likely value, and was not close to any supply lines. So it had been left alone, up until it made its first i-space jumps. Something about their i-space tech made them able to hit a far more precise target, and after the first skirmishes with the neighbors, and communications were made, they engaged in preemptive strikes on the nearest potential sources of conflict, then made a five-way treaty, declaring the .3 Gigalightsecond radius around their star neutral territory. And now? The four empires have a place where they cannot fight without facing serious problems. And so diplomacy might end the eternal war.
So that's why I'm here. Along with my team. At Eris station, one of four major ports in the system. We're here to steal some tech, as well as do some sabotage, and we have to do it without our weapons. We even have a bit of diplomatic backing from our sponsors, who also happen to be our home polity: the Draama Entelechy. It is also known to host some research centers, which we have limited access to, and a tour. And while our weapons cannot be taken with, we Draamin have a number of innate skills that make us peerless mercenaries. I look forward to the tour. | 2022-03-07T04:14:04 | 2022-03-07T01:52:16 | 111 | 54 |
[WP] As the last survivor of the apocalypse, in a fit of boredom, you start commenting "last" on every video on YouTube. One day, you receive a notification that your comment has been liked.
Wow, I did *not* expect such a huge turnout for my first ever prompt. The prompt itself arose from a friend and I doing some random banter back and forth, and I just posted up part of that banter as the prompt, essentially. XD
Thanks to everyone who posted a response and gave an upvote, this meant a lot to me! | I chuckle mirthlessly to myself as I glance at the title of the next video. *Top 10 Ways the World Might End*. WatchMojo, of course. One of those old retro channels. I don't even bother paying the actual video any attention, scrolling straight to the comment section. I already know that the truth won't be on the list. No one saw it coming.
I press Ctrl+V to quickly paste in the message. "Last." It's dumb, it's stupid, it's pointless... But it's all I have left. My food supply is nearly gone, the air recycler is barely held together by frankly obscene amounts of duck tape, and the only way left to purify water is good ole fashioned boiling -- not really the safest thing to do on a space station. But the internet, maintained by bots on the server satellites, is still as alive as ever. Minus new content, of course.
I click to another random video among my suggested feed. Ah, an old classic -- *Rewind 2038*. I dislike the video, on principle alone, and then paste in my comment.
And so it goes. It's a morbid sort of amusement. One final "take that" from humanity to the universe. We created so much, but in the end it all comes to nothing. What is the point of a massive record, a comprehensive archive of our culture, when no one is around to see it? I am the last. My death is more than just my death. It is the end of our history.
Oh, sure, there could be life somewhere far out there. But we never really ventured out into the stars, and it seems unlikely that any other civilization will either. They must all fall to the same ironic fate that we have, or be smart enough to to simply be content with their own little corner of the universe.
Hubris. We've known about it for so long. We refused to doubt our wings and flew too close to the sun. I am nothing more than the final drop of wax. We will sink into the depths of the sea, as if we were never here at all.
Hours of the same repetitive task serve to help distance myself from the approaching oblivion. "Last." "Last." "Last." Obviously, I will never be able to comment on every single video. But I have managed hundreds so far.
And then, all too soon, it is time. The oxegen has finally given out. I am already so tired and weak. All I can do is stare, blankly, at the screen. Shall this be the last thing seen? It is an uploaded nature documentary. I do not mind so much, if this is it. Down, far beneath me, Earth is little more than a wasteland. I would rather remember it like this. Lush green forests, glittering waterfalls, golden sunsets over the sea.
Yes, this is a fitting end. A memory of what once was and can never be again. It is what we recklessly lost in our own pursuit of *more*.
*Ding.*
I blink at the notification. The edges of my vision are blurry, but I can still read it. Is this some sort of oxegen deprived hallucination? I don't understand... I have to... Need to... Reach out...
*Someone has liked your comment.* | I was laying on my driveway, staring up at the stars. As a child, I spent a lot of time laying around and looking up at the night sky — but it was always in the grass. It was a little bit softer, but it was also wetter and scratchier and well…full of bugs.
And too tall now that no one mowed it.
So I chose the driveway instead. It had some cracks, and was hard, sure, but my back liked it and I didn’t plan on being there forever. I just wanted to feel some peace; some connection to the world. Boredom wasn’t the worst part of being alone after the world went to shit.
It was the loneliness and the lack of connections. The lack of anything at all.
That's why I had spent 3 days in a row commenting on those videos online. It let me feel connected to the world that used to exist. It let me insert myself into the lives of all those people for a little while. But the loneliness always set back in, and the boredom did come with it, and after so much….
The act wasn’t the same anymore. It started to become sad instead of funny, and I had to stop.
I wasn’t thinking about the videos that night, though. I was thinking about the stars, and wondering if maybe I was wrong about my situation. Maybe I had miscalculated, or been too impatient.
Maybe there was someone else out there, looking up at the same stars; the same moon. Maybe someone else was laying there wishing for companionship, and instead of trying to find them, I was laying there feeling sorry for myself.
That's what was running through my head when my cell phone dinged. It startled the hell out of me. My eyes went wide like a deer in headlights, and my entire body shuddered as a tiny jolt of adrenaline ran through my body.
There is a long list of things I don’t understand about life after the apocalypse happened. Things like electricity, and the Internet, and cell service. It seemed to be that those things should have died away rather quickly — but they didn’t. Months later and they still haven’t.
I’m pretty sure that I will die of starvation before the lights in my house go out… for whatever that's worth.
When the panic ran its course, I picked up my phone from the slab of concrete surrounding me and unlocked it. The notification bar told me someone liked my recent comment.
My ‘Last.’ May not have been the last one after all. I felt my breath catch, the rest of me frozen in place.
In order for my comment to be liked, there *had* to be someone else out there in the world.
I only needed to figure out how to reach them.
/r/Beezus_Writes | 2020-01-07T06:12:09 | 2020-01-07T05:56:24 | 2,382 | 793 |
[WP] You join an expedition to Antartica and uncover a metal hatch in the ice. You go down the ladder and find a greeting room with lush red carpet and gold banners. A group of human looking beings greet you with an advanced piece of technology. It translates their question, “Is the ice age over?” | Richard looked at Julia. Then around the room. And back at Julia again.
Not only were they most likely the first couple to match on Tinder in Antarctica, they may have been the first couple to accidentally stumble upon extraterrestrial life on the Earth's coldest continent as well.
"Uhh," Richard stammered. "Uh, yea. Yea, it's 2014 and the Ice Age has been over for about 10,000 years."
One of the humanoid creatures, presumably the ringleader, looked curiously at Richard.
"10,000 years. Really? Is that how old you are?" the machine translated.
"I'm 32," Richard replied.
"I see," the humanoid said. "And how old are you?" the machine asked, as the ringleader beckoned towards Julia.
"I - I'm 29." She looked at Richard with a look of terror in her eyes and quietly mouthed, "Richard, where \*are\* we?"
But before he could respond the machine interrupted. "How did you find us?"
Richard turned and looked at the group of humanoids, who looked more curious than menacing. "Well, actually, your hatch was exposed."
"Exposed?" The technology piece translated their question. "But how? That's impossible. We were buried under ice and snow - at least 10 feet thick."
"Well, a lot has changed in the past 10,000 years," Richard replied. "In fact, the ice caps have been melting at an alarming rate. I believe your hatch was exposed because the rising temperatures of the planet have exposed your location.
"Wait, what?" Julia chimed in. "I would hardly say 'alarming'. If anything, the Earth's temperatures have been rising slightly over the past 20 to 30 years, but nothing to be alarmed about."
"Julia, are you being serious right now? There is surmounting evidence that humans have been the main contributor to the heating up of the planet."
"Oh, really? Then why, in the 1970's, was there a worldwide panic about global cooling? You're telling me that in 50 years we went from cooling the planet to cooking it?"
"Oh my God. Are you seriously a climate change denier?" Richard clamored.
"Denier? Hardly. I'm literally down here on a science expedition. And unlike you, I don't believe that the 'science is settled' and that humans have far bigger problems to be worrying about than the temperature of the planet."
"Oh really? Like what? Because I'm pretty sure if the earth gets any warmer, we're not going to have a planet to live on."
"Richard, that's ridiculous. The planet has been much warmer in the past than it is today, and people survived just fine. I am just not going to believe that a man who made a faulty hockey stick chart, lives in a mansion and burns more electricity than the average American ever will, and who has been profiteering off of questionable scientific methods should be trusted. And science is never settled. That's not how science works. Besides - "
"ENOUGH!" the machine shouted. "Do you 2 always fight like this?"
"We've known each other for 11 hours," Richard muttered, glaring at Julia.
"We're not here to solve your relational conflicts. We have far more pressing issues if the hatch has been exposed."
"Right, like the planet melting," said Richard.
"No," the machine said. "No, something much worse than that. You humans aren't very bright, are you? Haven't you been studying the stars or the sun? Has any of the ancient knowledge been passed down to you? You're worried about the weather?"
"Well, to be fair," started Julia, "The record keeping over the past 10,000 years has been spotty at best. Lots of rising and falling of empires, entire civilizations destroyed, natural disasters, plagues... we're discovering buried cities all of the time."
"Let us tell you about the impending fate of this planet," the machine said. "But first, something to drink."
Two of the humanoids got up to presumably fetch beverages. Richard and Julia looked around nervously, and the ringleader beckoned them to take a seat in the circle. They hesitantly took off their jackets and joined the humanoids on one of the plush gold love seats.
They sat in an awkward silence for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the humanoids returned with what looked like 2 mugs of tea. Richard smiled at Julia nervously. He lifted up his drink toward here. "Cheers?" He questioned. She lifted her mug in return. "Cheers," she smiled. Whatever the drink was, it smelled and tasted delicious.
"We're going to show you a video of our history, how we got into this hatch, and the danger that we're in."
A screen began to lower out of the ceiling and a video of the humanoid civilization began to play. Julia's eyes started to get heavy. Richard felt himself nodding off.
\---
Julia awoke to the muffled sound of Richard's screams coming from the room next door. She tried to get up, but realized that she was strapped down to a cold, metal table.
"Goddamit," Julia thought to herself. "I knew I should've swiped left." | I've only seen a metal hatch like this once before, in our capital city of New Denver. It guards the vault where our ancestors took shelter from the great war, and held the Garden of Eden Creation Kits (G.E.C.K) that we used to stabilize the world after the nuclear holocaust subsided. Now because of our researcher's ability to understand the technology behind G.E.C.K, most of the remains of the Western United States has been reunited, with the exclusion of California as there is still some strong resistance to our movement. If there is a possibility of more G.E.C.Ks being located within this vault I knew our team needed to investigate. Although we were a research team meant only to study the environmental damages done from the bombs, we were certain no vault could survive this long without opening.
 
I make my way to the control panel where I expected my Pip Boy to allow me to open the door, however, the adapter seems different for this vault, and beyond that the language on the controls seems to be something pre-war. From my studies in history classes it seems to be some form of mandarin.
 
After discussing my discovery with the team it was decided that the vault should still be opened to determine if Chinese vaults had the technology to sustain life for this long. If the Chinese still were around after the nuclear barrage released by the U.S there could be a large potential threat to our society. With this we begin working with the electronics trying to rewire the door to open.
 
Finally, a large creaking sound signals the opening of the door. As ice crunches and icicles are released from their resting places the door opens and lights from inside the vault turn on. We entered the vault, and were surprised to find luxuries we could only have dreamed of. The softest red velvet carpet I have ever seen, and gold statues adorning the walls down a long hallway. Everything seemed to be intact but there were no signs of people. Nervously we crept forward.
 
As we came to the end of the hallway we came to an intersection and as we were deciding which way to turn, two men came out from the left and from the right holding some sort of energy weapon. Reflexively I put my hand on my hip preparing myself to use my weapon. Then from the end of the hallway I heard a voice. It was in English and I was surprised.
 
"What are you doing in our vault?" the voice echoed.
 
I looked around expecting the team leader to respond, but he seemed locked in fear. I spoke up and said as confidently as I could, that we were only researchers seeking shelter from a blizzard.
The man who questioned us seemed distraught.
 
Again, he questioned us saying, "The radiation has subsided, but has the ice?"
 
Unwilling to let them know of the rebirth of the world due to our G.E.C.Ks I tell them the world is still covered by a sheet of ice and then try to act disheartened.
 
Seemingly desperate, he asks "You walk the surface, does this mean it is safe for us?"
 
I let them know that we can only stay out for hours at a time before we need to return to base.
Angrily the man walks closer, "Then you are not welcome here, you need to leave either on your own or as a pile of ashes."
 
The guards began escorting us out and as we reached the surface I drew my weapon. I shot both the guards before they could react and grabbed on of their energy weapons.
 
My team stood there utterly shocked and asked what I thought I was doing. I responded by telling them we needed to seal this vault for good in order to keep our society safe. We could hear yelling from the end of the corridor. Quickly, we began closing the vault door and then short circuited the wires. It would buy us some time.
As the vault closed, I left the energy weapon directly outside of it. After reaching a safe distance, I look down the sights of my gun. It's hard to aim when shaking from the cold. I take a deep breath and fire, as I did this a large glowing orb of fire appeared in front of the vault. It was so bright I had to turn away. I looked back and saw the door had been welded shut by the blast.
 
Now it was only a matter of finding their ventilation system, and then we could return home to New Denver and report what we encountered.
 
Quick note-- I am not a writer by any means, and I am known for my terrible grammar. Sorry, if it was a little hard to read at times, but I thought my idea was cool and I just wanted to get it out there.
Edit: Formatting | 2018-07-23T07:17:08 | 2018-07-23T06:51:58 | 161 | 82 |
[WP] You died at the gym as you were trying to take a selfie while bench pressing. Thus you find yourself in Swaghalla, the Halls of Brodin.
EDIT. "Swaghalla" was the best pun I could come up with for Valhalla. Use something else if you have ideas.
Note: Swolehalla seems to be the proper name, pardon my mistake
second EDIT. Sweet, first time front page
third EDIT. I've had many good laughs brighten my Monday, thanks guys :D | A giant golden fist pushed through the clouds and stopped abruptly right in front of my face.
"Pound it!" A thundering voice came from every direction, causing my bowels to empty on the spot. I fell to my knees. "Pound it Chad", the voice continued.
This was not the gym anymore. I remembered trying to take a selfie, Justin was spotting me... Goddamn it Justin, you dropped it, didn't you? Son of a bitch, I'm dead. Is this heaven?
I slowly lifted my limp-wristed fist and lightly bumped the mass of gold that floated inches from my face. "Weaksauce", said the voice, and the fist slowly moved back into the clouds. "I am the Alpha and the Omega and Kappa and Gamma and all the other letters but not Beta. You are Beta. You are not worthy of Swaghalla. You are a little girly-man."
A swarm of triggers appeared and started jabbing me with their pointy bits. The sudden realization of my demise coupled with the God-tier shit-talk enraged me so much that I swept away the triggers with a roundhouse kick and ran after the receding golden fist.
Frothing at the mouth, I was able to punch the golden fist with great vigour right before the clouds joined. A great slash of light tore through the sky.
"Braaaaaaaaaah"
Millions of voices greeted me in canon. Swaghalla unfurled itself around me, and at first I couldn't fathom it. It kinda looked like an episode of Entourage, but there were mirrors everywhere. My mirror images were winking at me, flexing my muscles. Mirrors to the left of me, mirrors to the right, mirrors in front of me, it was super tight. And beyond, bros as far as the eye could see, lifting, repping, squatting, pumping. A kaleidoscopic spectacle of writhing man-meat.
Right when I thought there weren't any women, a super hot chick appeared. "Hello Brosephus Chad", she said. "Are you ready to meet Brodin? I'm super hot and really stupid."
I asked whether the golden fist had been his, and she answered "I don't know, I'm a hot chick." She opened her Louis Vuitton-branded wings and took off, beckoning me to follow her. A G5 materialized and I piloted it with my dick.
We arrived at Brodin's Abrode. Chauntelleigh said that his whole house was diamonds, and that I should watch what I say because Brodin's crazy. I rang the dumbbell and the diamond door opened, beset on both sides by the largest bouncers I'd ever seen. I walked through the hall and felt gravity getting stronger. Every step made me realize that for years I had been skipping leg day. There was no end to this hall, I walked for what felt like days. My chicken legs were turning into protein pylons and my spirit soared. Finally I reached what looked like a big massage table.
On it, spreadeagle, was Brodin, getting his anus bleached. He turned his head towards me and bellowed "Sup Chad, I've been expecting you". He looked like Donald Trump. "You almost didn't make it, girly man."
"I know sir, I was confused, I was just trying to take a self..." Brodin kicked his bleachboy into the ceiling, stepped off the massage table and was now all up in my grill with the intensity of a million cans of Monster.
"Why would you want to immortalize failure Chad?" His warm breath whispering like a hurricane. "You little ectomorph, you barely made it through the hall on those tinder sticks. Justin should have been here, but you saved his life by telling him that floor sushi is not okay brah."
"Can't you send me back? I'm so sorry Brodin, I'm sure we can work it out." Brodin lied down on the table, turned his head and said: "I'm fresh out of bleachboys Chad."
| "Bro!" nodded the grinning guard at him. The eyebrows waggled enticingly at the rack beside the entrance. "Pick one."
Shimmering fabric in every colour battled for space with gleaming leather and suede of every kind. He picked out black sedately picked with gold thread. He tried holding it against him in front of a huge mirror and in the next blink he found himself slack-jawed at his reflection.
"Good choice, bro," the guard nodded. "Always pretty when the muscles are highlighted."
The clothing had looked sedate. Gold lines were painted all over his skin where the cloth unfailingly fell agape. Where there is too much gold, just enough little black gems studded the skin.
He turned towards the rack, but the black line trailing his back caught his eyes, and he twisted a little more to look at them. *Oooh.* They were intricately just so.
He only barely heeded the guard's hand on his elbow towing him away, looking mournfully at his reflection as someone else took his place. A few pace away a blast assaulted his nose and he followed the smell of roasted meat of every kind and mounds of vegetables in every type of dish imaginable. Carbs were here and there, just enough to suggest an illicit pleasure. "Non-fattening, can you believe it?" A very trim redhead smiled over a huge donut, a smoothie tumbler nestled just so on her lap. "Nothing puts the fat on here." she moaned over her bite, chasing it down with the thick smoothie and licking the excess from her lips.
"Ah, so," he stared, mesmerised, and asked. "You're pretty, and I'm pretty, why don't we go see how pretty we are together?"
Her laughter was low and husky. "And mess up this?" she asked mockingly, running a palm along pearled lines, the center of the pattern just disappearing under the very short ivory skirt that was very, very gorgeous with her dark skin. She was still laughing as she picked another donut and left.
The next guy he tried talked non-stop about the magic wardrobe somewhere off the main hall, but they returned to the banquet in fresh clothing and designs without even managing to lay a single hand on each other. It wasn't until he was watching the sway of firm buttocks heading away that he realised he'd spent hours with a very beautiful man and gotten nowhere. Eyes narrowed, he picked his next target from the hundreds he could see lounging everywhere. And failed. Again. And. Again. And Again. Male, female, indistinctly gendered, nobody seems to want to mess their clothing and makeup.
He finally sat down with his consolation roast and guiltily pleasurable beer when a blonde chatted him up. She had lovely smiles, her laughter send shivers down his spine and she knew how to drape herself against someone else' body.
"Oh yes, I really love the blue lines. In fact, I really want to spend the next few hours admiring it. The patterns don't repeat, you see. They always change on every application."
He was still nibbling on a roast slice, admiring how pale, almost silver blue intertwined with midnight dark on his forearm when he realised what he'd just said. His head snapped up, but the blonde was nowhere to be seen.
The redhead he chatted with first winked at him from across the hall and raised her own pint mug of dark beer. He raised his own mug in return and took a deep draught. So much calories, and none of it going to be packed on him. | 2015-11-02T06:36:33 | 2015-11-02T06:20:11 | 47 | 17 |
[WP] “What’s the strangest thing you’ve seen out there?” The new-recruit ask, looking out into the vast spacial abyss. The question catches you off guard, as you look around at the mostly destroyed and failing ship, drifting endlessly through space. You take a long breath in, “...Humans.” | I took a long breath in, weighing the answers in my head before deciding and offering an unexpected one.
"...Humans," I said, returning my attention back to the stars.
I heard the recruit gasp in surprise before laughing as he thought on what I said. I allowed him the brevity. Sometimes, it is usually best for one to get it out of their system. After all, the realisation had given me the same reactions.
"Sir, how can it be humans? We are humans. How are we the strangest things out in space?" the recruit asked.
Turning to face him, I sized him up and down. The newbie was a young man, going by his face, but he was built up like a linebacker. That made me purse my lips in consideration. I'm not one for judging people and putting them into boxes but from the looks of him, I couldn't help but feel that he came through the military route.
My stare must have unnerved him because he added.
"I mean, my cousin's told me the story of the race in the Qularn sector. He said the whole species are gelatinous. Like an army of jelly shots!"
That was when I sighed. Definitely military route.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"First Officer Sam, sir," the recruit said, saluting me in the process.
*Three for three,* I found myself thinking.
"Your cousin was also military?" I asked.
"Yes sir," Sam answered, a proud smile forming on his face, "My father and his brothers, also. We're a family of fighters, sir."
I nodded, pushing myself away from the window and began walking down the corridor leading to the lab. Not that I had anything special to do, but whenever I'm in space, the lab was always my favourite place to spend the time.
"Sam..." I began as I walked. The recruit fell into step next to me.
"The 'gelatinous' species are not gelatinous. In fact, they are not liquid or liquid based in any form you know," I explained.
I glanced at him, catching his frown.
"But my cousin said..." he protested and I cut him short.
"Your cousin was wrong. Not a fault of his, I would say but he was wrong," I said.
The man kept quiet, continuing with me as we made our journey to the end and took a right turn at the junction.
"The reason why we left the Qularn sector was because we, the scientists and researchers, listened to what the Quaranks were saying. The general wasn't. And frankly, he didn't care. All he saw was a chance of expansion for the Federation," I explained further.
"Are you saying we don't need to expand?" Sam asked.
"Focus, Sam," I said, stopping in my tracks. I ignored the slight irritation but I couldn't stop myself from massaging my forehead.
"Sam," I said, "We listened. The general didn't. The Quaranks are a peaceful race, un-gelatinous in form. Instead, as we came to find out, the liquid form in which they communicated was to ensure we were calm in the conversations we had."
Sam frowned, his forehead creasing as he tried to understand what I was saying. I allowed him the minutes to piece together the question I wanted him to ask.
"Why would they want us calm?" Sam asked and I smiled.
"Because... The Quaranks real form, is the whole planet. They can split themselves into small liquid based forms for efficiency, communication and construction. We are not clear on the latter but that's what we learned. All the planets in the Qularn sector are Quaranks. And they were excited to meet us."
Sam's eyes went wide.
"The planet is their body?" he asked in a low, worried voice.
"Yes," I replied.
"But... Oh shit..." he said, running a hand through his dark hair. It was then I noticed he was taller than me. Truly built like an athlete. My smile widened at his apparent confusion as he tried to imagine the scale of the race.
"But... how can we win against them? A planet sized race would decimate all the ships we throw against them! Heck, simultaneous thermonuclear warheads would hurt them at most but they'd be fine... Won't they?"
My smile died then.
"Your reply? That's why humans are the strangest things out here," I said, my voice strangely frozen.
Sam gave me a confused look.
"I have seen, in the years I've spent in space, roughly thirty different races. Most were peaceful. Most were in their early years of consciousness and as such, generally primitive," I said, rubbing my eyes to stop myself from looking weary.
"In all the years I've been up here, I've seen humanity steamroll all of the thirty alien species all in the name of 'expansion'. We, who once thought we were alone in the universe. We, who wanted to explore the stars and meet new species. We, who used to think aliens would hate us for simply existing. And here we are, erasing species for simply existing."
His mouth had dropped open, becoming wider with each passing second.
"Humanity is a scourge. I used to think we were finally getting somewhere when space became a frontier we could navigate. Safe to say, I was wrong. We will never change."
\---
r/EvenAsIWrite for more stories from me :). Feedback and criticisms are always welcome. | “Humans?” Luther snapped his eyes to Rokan, a disbelieving look on his face.
Rokan let the corner of his lips lift, a small breath rushing out of his nose. “Humans. Once.” He looked at the newest member of his company, and let the amusement of his expression wash over him.
If they were lucky, they would be able to pull into a friendly station before the last of the crew died out. If they were less lucky but not completely out, they would find a ship that would let them, board. Hitch a ride and pretend that such an act wasn’t well below their station.
If they didn’t have enough for either of those, then they would all die out in space, wondering if any of it had been worth it at all.
“Humans don’t come this way. They…” Luther paused, looking back to the blackness and distance that surrounded them. “They haven’t been heard of since the last rally on Earth.”
“They keep to themselves.” Rokan knew that was only half the truth.
If the planet got its shit together, the species would be out in space. If they built the right ships, they would be out here in this war, and he couldn’t think of anything worse for any of them. The death and destruction of the outer bands had been hard enough without bloodthirsty animals aiming their guns in every direction. Lord knows they couldn’t take care of themselves on their own planet.
“They keep themselves safe.” Luther said, “The books…”
“The books only tell half the story.” Rokan glanced at the young man. His forehead was pushed downward in thought, and his arms laid stiffly on his lap. There was no comfort in his informal position, no relaxation despite nothing else to do.
“What are they like?” Luther asked.
Rokan shook his head and stood. The ship was slowing down further, and as he had the thought he heard a distance clank. The familiar rumble underneath his feet wound down to almost nothing; the ship was dying.
The ship was almost dead.
“Clueless. Apes.” The words flew out of Rokan’s mouth. The humans weren’t helpless, they weren’t stupid. But they were reckless. Despite all the years since he had been down to Earth, he didn’t believe that anything else would take their place at the top of his list.
His enemies were brutal but they were predictable. New planets held strange animals, but when he looked closer he understood them. When he looked at the wires of his ship, he understood them. When he dove under the water of an ocean, he understood it.
Humans prided themselves in being enigmas, and in that he supposed they succeeded.
Another clunk sounded from somewhere in the dying ship, and Rokan knew he had no choice but to tear his eyes away from the curious man. “We have one last distress signal to send. I am going to need your hands.”
Luther looked over, his face changing from disbelief and wonder to sheer confusion. “I’m not a tech…”
“I know. But its learn or die.” Rokan turned his back, walking away from the single open shield.
It was probably the least safe place for them to sit anyways. With no defenses and no weapons — with no comms and no warden, they had nothing to show if an enemy ship found them again.
Luther let out a sigh that Rokan couldn’t decipher. It sounded sad and longing. As if the man would rather sit on the edge of space and wait to die rather than work to save himself. He lacked the eager work ethic that most recruits had their first voyage out, he lacked the will to keep his eyes forward. As if Luther had joined to die, rather than joining to help them all live.
Perhaps the war had been going on too long, Rokan thought. Perhaps the younger generation was finally growing complacent. He couldn’t be sure, but the thought was threatening to distract him and the ship wasn’t getting any better on its own. Another silent moment passed, and he knew that if they didn’t move they were going to die an unpleasant death among the desolate stars.
He cleared his throat and turned. The sounds behind him as he walked told him the other man was somewhere behind him, opting out of a lonely death or a jail cell. Rokan wondered how many questions he would have to answer for the help and if he had the energy to answer them.
He wondered what the better option was, even though his limbs wouldn’t let him any other decision than the active one. He wondered where they would end up, and if they would be rewarded for surviving, or punished for letting the war take the turn it took.
As if they had any control over the weapons that were fired upon them, or that the nearest station had been taken. With a quiet sigh, Rokan turned down a hall, squeezing past a broken door at the end. “Let's hustle,” he said, talking to both himself and the recruit behind him.
Wondering and guessing was not his strong suit.
/r/beezus_writes | 2019-12-09T07:17:24 | 2019-12-09T06:11:33 | 62 | 21 |
[WP] You are notified that in 24 hours, every human will try to kill you for 1 hour. Your preparation starts now. | I cradled the body in my arms. It was extremely difficult to find. Poor bastard.
The culling started twenty two minutes ago. Frenzied masses spewed forth from Atlanta and formed concentric rings around. Idiots. Why would someone stick around their home town. The gears in my truck shifted as I bounced through a wooded path in Montana.
The skin was blue, all the blood had drained away from the surface. It was cold. Too cold. I covered it with my battery powered electric blanket to give him some semblance of fresh life life.
I go over the written descriptors again:
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Auburn
Height: 5'7" - 170 cm
Weight: 145 lbs - 66 kg
Build: Medium
Blood type: AB neg
Even the photograph appears similar. We have a winner.
The coroner on sight will tentatively state COD as blunt force trauma to the left temporal lobe and zygoma. Unfortunately it will obscure the face too much to have an immediate positive identification. I may have gone overboard. Fractured teeth, broken wrists, fingers, and ulna will indicate there was a lengthy struggle. In my hand, there is a tire iron. I regret what I had done, but it was necessary.
I arrange the body on the side of a service road near a willow grove - just enough to be tucked away. With paint brush in hand, I violently splatter blood I collected to emphasize the brutality of the event. I can already hear a mob of people approaching. I stare at the corpse through my rear view window as it disappears in the horizon - for a second, I catch a glimpse of myself. I have no remorse, I did was was needed of me.
I'm getting used to my fake tanned skin and dyed raven hair. I just have to evade for another half an hour and I'm free. | I gathered my beer bottles. I opened up one and began to down it.
"This is it... The final moment. Of bliss..." Another bottle down the hatch. I felt ready.
Of course, I went to the White House, I was lucky enough that George Bush had been reelected.
I knew the code on the keypad well.
#1234
I grinned to myself. Maniacally.
I hooked the stuff to my pod and began ascent.
#3
Is this the right choice?
#2
Was the info correct?
#1
It's too late now...
*Blast off*
Bursting up at millions of miles per hour, the capsule and I left the earth.
I almost shed a tear when I dropped the nukes.
They rained down out of the heavens lightning fast and destroyed the desolate planet known as Earth.
Millions of years later, they named the event "The Big Bang".
Foolish humans.
They don't know the truth.
They don't know that I tried to destroy the world.
Not save it.
The damned process is doomed to repeat again.
I'll waiting here.
The next man named Isaac Swift will cause the next "Big Bang".
Just as I did before him.
Just as I did.
Before me.
------------------------------
**Constructive Criticism is welcome. Please tell me what I can improve on, as this was my first real prompt.** | 2015-06-14T11:06:02 | 2015-06-14T09:20:45 | 136 | 12 |
[WP] It's Career Evaluation Day. Everybody else got the usual: "Doctor", "Manager", "Teacher". You got "Arsonist", "Mercenary", and "Revolutionary." | ((Can I answer my own thread? Screw it, doing it anyway.))
**Elijah Caldwell - Arsonist/Mercenary/Revolutionary**
"Now, Elijah, I know the results are a little...unorthodox, but you're...a bright young man. If you'd like, you can take it again and we can clear this whole thing up." And, with an obviously fake smile plastered on his face, Mr. Roberts pulled out a second copy of the evaluation-
*-that would end up reduced to ashes in Elijah's own backyard. As long as Bradbury hadn't been lying, it took just 451 degrees of heat to watch his future shrivel up, consumed by flashes of orange and yellow that left nothing of the harsh typeface behind-*
**Hope Ferris - Teacher/Librarian/Administrator**
"Honestly, Eli, don't think too hard about it. It sounds, I don't know...kind of romantic, in a way, right?" She, who had never experienced romance in her life, closed her eyes, obviously thinking of the battle-scarred heroes and wandering rogues that filled the pages of her books-
*-that she would run in to save, knowing full well that there wouldn't be anyone to save her, but she didn't care, because wasn't going up in a blaze of glory as tragic an ending as she could have hoped for-*
**Adam Accardi - Entertainer/Newscaster/Director**
Adam, being Adam, simply snatched the paper out of Elijah's hand to find out what was going on himself. "The hell is this? Sounds like something out of one of those young adult books, right? You know, that 'brave young soul fights massive government' shit? God, those all suck. Or, at least the movies do. Anyway, who cares, let me tell you about this party-
*-attended by some of the cities richest figures, the "unfortunate accident" somehow landing him yet another book deal and more guest appearances, the bastard. He would have to try again, and make sure this one took-*
**Nick Grant - Athlete/Coach/Criminal Justice**
"You? Seriously? You?" Grant laughed, a halting cackle that got everybody in the classroom's attention, the same laugh that freaked out the opposing linemen, that would be heard in the crowds after every game-
*-except that last one, just before the Raiders entered the postseason, when a drunken car chase turned into a drunken car crash; he hadn't even gotten to burn him, which was a real disappointment. The alcohol running through him might've led to some spectacular flames-*
**Sara Fontaine - Thief/Arsonist/Smuggler**
"Don't worry. I got pretty much the same thing, none of it's going to matter in a few years." Over the chatter and comparisons of their classmates, her voice was quiet, and Elijah almost didn't hear it-
*-over the sharp popping and steady hiss of the house burning to the ground. She took his hand, leaving a light coating of ash on the lighter still clutched between his fingers, and drew closer to him despite the waves of heat rolling over them.*
*"Like I said, none of it really matters."* | I gulped loudly as I sauntered up to the Selector at the front of the gathering hall. The entire town was there before me, sitting on the tiered marble benches. Behind me were the twenty-three other students in my graduating class. Before me was a marble table seating the Five Proctors.
The Selector was a smooth, green bowl that young child could easily curl up into. A liquid, dark as the midnight sky, filled the bowl to its brim. The Five Proctors stared expectantly at me, before the one in the center, Proctor Jacobs, spoke.
"Peter Rotson," he spoke, his voice echoing in the silent hall. "You stand here today before the people of Moenia on the Day of Careers. What comes out of that bowl will determine what you do here for the rest of your life. Do you accept this responsibility?"
Trying hard not to make my voice shake, I bob my head and say, "I do."
Proctor Jacobs tilted his head up and I breathed in deeply, moving my hand toward the bowl. Once I submerged my hand in the Choosing Liquid, the three words that appeared would determine my life. I was hoping for something in the field of Science, but I wasn't certain that's what the bowl would choose for me.
My best friend, Mathias, had had Doctor, Manager, and Teacher chosen for him. Another friend, Clara, was appointed Secretary, Senator, and Judge. I exhaled and lowered my hand into the liquid.
I wasn't sure what I expected it to feel like, but it really didn't feel like much. It engulfed my skin, neither hot nor cold, and I relaxed a little. It took a few seconds before a dozen golden lines shot out from my hand like the spokes on a wheel.
Three words slowly formed on the surface before rising up and hovering over my head, for the Proctors to see.
Their reaction did not comfort me.
The Five Proctors' eyes widened and they stared at me with different levels of bewilderment. Gasps rippled through the town, their heads shifting around. Breathless, I glanced up at the words and stepped back to read them.
*Arsonist. Mercenary. Revolutionary.*
I blinked, my face a blank slate. My heart pounded so violently I was sure it would burst out of my chest.
Nobody in the room spoke, besides the Five Proctors whispering quietly. With a knot in my throat, I turned my head to face Mathias. He shrugged, appearing hopeless and frightened.
Out of the corner of my eye, one of the Proctors rose and pointed at me. "Peter Rotson, you are a traitor to the city of Moeria." His eyes glared at me with a ruthlessness that chilled me to my core.
"Seize the infidel."
| 2015-07-02T18:31:56 | 2015-07-02T15:00:27 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] In the future, for your history final, you're sent back in time to an important date with the objective to correct a time aberration so history remains unchanged. You didn't study.
Changes you might cause will be permanent. | "Well crap", you say to yourself, "This doesn't look like California".
As you start wandering down the street you notice the language on the signs is all wrong, "What is that, Russian? Shit, shit, shit. I messed up the settings again and they're going to fail me this time. I need to pass this class."
Your assignment was to stop a group of terrorist hackers from stealing government documents which they used several years later to carry out strikes on several US military bases.
The only thing left to do now was wait for the automatic retrieval in 2 hours while picturing your future going up in flames. Your pace slows as you feel crushed by the bleak future you've created for yourself and the irony of not being able to use time travel to fix your own personal failings. Up ahead you see an internet cafe which will be a good place to pass the time and get out of the brisk fall winds that you didn't dress for.
"I would like to use the computer for two hours", you say again for the 3rd time to the man behind the counter. He doesn't understand a word of english. You take out your wallet and put an $50 dollar US bill onto the counter. After seeing the bill his face completely changes. He smiles and accepts the bill and points to one of the computers.
Logging into the computer you notice the year and hope the computer just has a clock that hasn't been updated. After checking a news sites you confirm that you've not only arrived in the wrong place, but you're also a full 3 years early. "This is 2016? I don't even know how you mess that part up," you say to yourself in resignation, "Maybe it is a good thing I won't make it into the program".
After killing 30 minutes just browsing reddit, you notice an /r/netsec article about a new privacy law that is about to be passed and you're hit with sudden inspiration about a way out. It is a bit of a gamble, but if you can manage to convince the US politicians that internet security is important maybe they'll toughen up their security protocols enough that the security breach in 3 years won't happen. It wasn't the original plan, but it would show the proctors that you could be creative and think on your feet. For the first time since you traveled back you smile to yourself and think things might just work out. You put your usb drive full of hacking tools that you were originally going to use against the terrorist hackers into the computer's usb drive.
You start prowling the net with your hacking tools for a target that would get the attention of the political elite in the US and you finally settle on the perfect treasure trove. All you're trying to do is scare them, so you don't have to grab anything sensitive, just a target that would show they are vulnerable. It takes a little less than hour before you have all of the files downloaded and packaged up ready to drop into the hands of a few reporters, "This will scare them good and plenty". You fire off the pilfered documents to your reporter contacts and then close all the windows and smile at your reflection in the now blank screen. You may have actually pulled it off.
You get up from your chair and stretch. You nod to the guy behind the counter as you walk out the door. The winds don't feel nearly as cold now that you're in a good mood. Or maybe it is just that the sun isn't behind a cloud anymore. You stroll around the streets taking everything in. Your remaining time flies quickly and you are startled when your watch chimes for the 5 minute warning. You find an secluded alley off the main road and wait for your retrieval.
The first thing you see upon returning to the future the scowl on Professor McMullen's face. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," you say, "Before you say anything about being in the wrong time and the wrong place, I think you'll like what I was able to do. All we needed to do was get the US to toughen up their security practices, right? So I hacked a bunch of President Hillary Clinton's emails and dumped them to some reporters before she was president so she'd take internet security more seriously."
Your professor just stares and you and in a flat tone responds, "Because of you, Hillary Clinton never became president."
| "I hope you understand the seriousness of this task," History can turn out to be a very important factor in your lives" said Mr Bonarte, as he set off another barrage of useless information, useless at least to Jack. "To demonstrate this, each one of you will be sent to points of history commonly forgotten, but which had dire consequences."
Jack didn't can; history was history, a constant tick of myths and legends which Jack outgrew before he even started to learn it. He, of course, would be the first to go back. He hadn't revised, he didn't need to from what he had heard, it was a simulation essentially, a simulation in which you would be transported back automatically if you ever came into extreme danger. Your presence in the space-time continium at that moment then would be erased once you completed it, leaving a historical timeline.
"Jack, I hope you realise how eye-opening this can be," the 50-something history teacher claimed, startling Jack from a bored daydream.
20 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛
This was stupid, Jack just wanted to move on from School, not deal with a waste of money of a waste of a contraption to help a waste of a subject. He would never change anything.
The whirl of light surrounded the bleach white room, engulfing Jack in an inferno of energy. The building withered back to its youth, the trees trembling into saplings. Jack gave one last look at his perfect era and closed his eyes.
==================================================
When he opened his eyes, Jack saw a blanket blue sky, surrounded by dark green trees. This obviously wasn't London, or in the UK. Crackles of lighting in the far distance reminded him this was a war, and a large one at that. Yet they had gone through hundreds of wars in History that term.
The Boy turned left as a man in a beige uniform dotted with a red spots of those slain before ran through the bushes, stopping to stare at the boy.
"Co Ty tutaj robisz," spoke the man in a thick Slavic accent, a tone of fear in his voice.
After some heavy thought, Jack could only mutter a minor "English?" feebly in front of him.
"English?! Why are you here, in Poland when war is happening?!" the man shouted in a concerned anger. Jack faintly remembered something about Russia and Poland he learnt, something minor. All he had to do was note down the wrong event on his device, and he would return. "Follow," the man called, leading Jack away from the battle behind.
Behind him was a constant fray of Polish soldiers trying to reach some sort of radio tower over a ground littered with bodies, a fray he should be out of now. The device flashed rapidly as Jack pulled it out, he just had to remember the event. The last soldier fell dead, as the radio tower stood defiant, a gravestone mocking them.
As the device flashed a final time, this time now in a red light of danger, before Jack was engulfed yet again.
==================================================
Yet the Classroom Jack came back to was, in reality, a wreck. No Mr Bonarte, no classmates, no...life. Jack remembered where he had been: the battle of Warsaw, in the Soviet invasion of Poland where Polish troops attacked some sort of radio tower, causing the Russian troops to move up north instead of moving South to take Warsaw. According to Bonarte, the war saved Europe from Communism or something.
A terrible realisation dawned on Jack as he looked outside. London was in ruins, with the notorious red banner hanging magnificently from the School.
| 2017-03-27T10:08:10 | 2017-03-27T08:51:07 | 109 | 29 |
[WP] Wikipedia cannot be wrong. Any time an edit is made, the universe instantly changes to make that edit true. Nobody realizes this is happening. | **Item #:** SCP-████
**Object Class:** Keter
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-████ is to be held within a storage unit on Site-██. Any access to the item is allowed only with prior clearance by 05 Command and reality shift counter-measures prepared.
**Description:** SCP-████ is a ██████ brand laptop computer, running a ██.█ version of █████ Linux. When offline, the laptop behaves identically to all other █████ brand laptops of that model. This laptop computer came in possession of the Foundation on ██/██/200█, after who is assumed to be the previous owner broke █ security protocols of Site-██, and delivered the laptop there.
SCP-████ shows its nature when accessing the Wikipedia.org website. On the website, the laptop always signs in as the user ██████████ - as of ██/██/201█, no such user ever registered on the Wikipedia website. When making edits from the laptop, reality will shift accordingly to match whatever was written in the article.
Due to the dangerous nature of all reality shifting SCPs, no testing is permitted.
----
####NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION
This document requires Level 4 Clearance and authorization for Need-to-Know under CODE GREEN. If you do not possess the necessary security clearances, please close this document immediately and report the security breach to the Records and Information Security Administration.
----
Addendum ████-01: Notes by Dr. ██████
>There are things in this world that make you question reality itself. This is one of those things.
>When the previous owner - just a kid - gave us this laptop, he said just three words to us before leaving - and breaking every damn security protocol on site. He said...
>"Save the world"
>Now, I never had doubts about being real before, but this thing makes me worry. There are just too many coincidences.
>That kid knew the exact purpose of the foundation, knew exactly what site to go to for this, and the way he got in... It wasn't your usual break in. He literally just *walked in* past all the checkpoints and all the security guards like it was nothing.
>But it's what was on the laptop that finally made me put it all together.
>You see, the last page visited on that laptop when I first examined it was the Wikipedia page for the SCP Foundation.
>So did he bring us to this world? What other changes could he have made?
>And what does the world desperately need saving from that would require bringing to life the SCP Foundation? | Janice- "Oh my God Berni you look adorable!"
Bernice- "Thanks, I needed that. Ugh, ever since the pregnancy I've been eating everything that pops into my head. You know what's not "adorbs"? Getting caught stuffing your face with the half of a cheese cake you dropped on the pavement on your way inside!"
Janice- "You did not!?"
Bernice- "I did. I'm just glad you invited me out to coffee. I needed an excuse to get out of the house. Jake kept looking at me with his "Judging" eyes! Like he's never pulled half a cake out of the trash and eaten it!"
Janice- "Out of the dicks container, really Berni?"
Bernice- "Hey, it was empty other than the cake!"
Janice- "Haha well do you know what you want? I'm thinking of trying the "Overpriced piece of garbage". How about you?"
Bernice- "Mmmm that sounds great! But I'll probably have one of those ice caps or something."
Janice- "Really? Haven't you heard what's in those?"
Bernice- "No what?"
Janice- "Well apparently there's a bunch of chemicals like polysoreballs! President Hitler made a speech a few weeks ago that he was gonna ban any food containing it next quarter if all parties using it don't pull it from their stuff!"
Bernice- "Wow, President Hitler is so involved with the community these days."
Janice- "Hi can I get a Machidesenutso and an Iced Dick please."
Barista- "Ok that comes to-"
Bernice- "Wait, I don't want an Iced Dick anymore. Not after what you just told me at least! I'll just take a regular coffee, no cream no sugar."
Barista- "So you want your coffee (N-word)?"
Bernice- "Yes."
Barista- "Ok that comes to tree-fiddy. Will you be paying with cash or bitch tits ma'am?"
Bernice- "Actually I have a gift nipple!"
| 2014-04-15T02:20:12 | 2014-04-14T23:04:42 | 76 | 17 |
[WP]you live in a world where you are automatically branded by supernatural means when you commit a crime. Say you steal something , he word theif appears on your forehead. Ensuring you become an outcast. You are given a wide berth by everyone due to your brand. GODSLAYER | Everyone always seemed to avoid me these days. I couldn't blame them really if I met someone else that had a brand on their forehead that said godslayer I'd probably avoid them too. Though odds are pretty good that just like me their story wasn't as impressive as the brand made it sound. The problem with the brands is children.
The duration of the brand was directly correlated to how impactful your "crime" was to the person it affected most. So when we tore through someones garden trying to reach the base during fugitive it usually resulted in a brand for property damage that lasted a few days. The longest brand I'd ever head of lasted for about 5 years and that was for a case of murder. That was before my current brand. I've had it for ten years.
At the age of 16 I was hired to baby sit a child every weekend. It was a total drag in retrospect, but the pay was good and who was I to turn down a pay day like that. The only down side was I missed out on doing a lot of teenage stuff with my friends. Specifically town wide hide and seek. They always seemed to play on days I had to baby sit. Though since we usually damaged someones property we all wore hats to class on Monday to hide the brand until they fade. Everyone knew it was us doing it, but hiding the brand made it seem less real.
Back to the point here. I was baby sitting one weekend and the three year old had gained a strange fascination with a teddy bear. He talked to it like it was his imaginary friend no big deal right? That was until he started talking to it in a weird way, like it was the leader of his life. This three year old idolized this teddy bear and he started listening to it more than he listened to me.
So I talk to his parents and apparently they'd noticed the problem too. So in my final weekend of babysitting they asked me to get rid of the teddy bear. It made sense for me to do it, it was my last weekend and having the child be mad at me made way more sense than at his parents. So on my final night of work after he fell asleep, I tore the teddy bears head off and threw it in the trash. Problem solved, except the mark showed up. I became revered as a godslayer, because I destroyed a childs teddy bear. | I never wanted this path. It is desolate. Lonely... I did it for her, Allison, my wife. She died from an unknown disease 7 years ago. When she lay dying I was broken. I was told of a small barn owl, with bright blue eyes. I was told that if I caught that owl I would have the favor of a god. A God! He that could cure my wife, soothe her aching bones. I spent months away from my wife looking for that bird. Months that I should've spent by her side. When I finally found it my soul rose so high, I thought my wife was saved. I aimed my bow at the unexpecting creature. Thwip. The owl lays on the ground. Dead. I look up for the God expecting him to appear. Suddenly my forehead burns. Oh God, what have I done? I had not known it was a trap. Set forth by an evil spirit that coaxed me into killing its rival. Upon returning my wife had been laying in the cemetery for three months. I was too late to even say goodbye. Everyone avoids me, some more outright about it than others. It serves me right I suppose. In my greed I killed the god that kept their water clean, that kept evil spirits at bay, that kept their crops healthy. That kept them healthy. The disease is spreading, the river is poison, the food is nearly out just a month past harvest. That's nothing to say of the ungodly things that have happened at night. Those not taken by the plague are taken by the spirits for sacrifice. Their mangled corpses litter the woods. No one can leave. The spirits made that clear. We will all die here, because of me. All but me anyway. When I killed the god I received one gift or curse as it were. Eternal life. | 2017-05-30T12:11:16 | 2017-05-30T10:27:23 | 120 | 65 |
[WP] Everyone dies twice; the first time is when they pass away, and the second time is when they're forgotten. You're the True Reaper, and today, you've reaped someone who hasn't passed through your little brother, the Grim Reaper. | The man sat cross-legged on a wide tree stump in the middle of the clearing. Wind whipped at his long beard and passed gently over his bald head. He felt the energy of his breath as he meditated--in--out--in--out. The sounds of the forest surrounding the clearing were plenty, and he was aware of them all, but they did not disrupt his tranquility. He let each one pass through him as easily as the breeze, until one drew his focus abruptly away from his breathing.
"*Greetings.*"
The man's eyes snapped open and he spun on the stump, thrusting himself off and flipping backwards away from the source of the sound--the first voice he'd heard in many decades. Assessing his surroundings, searching for the owner of the voice but finding no one.
"*Ahh, you're a sharp one. Quite in tune; body and mind, I see.*"
He spun again, sliding his foot around in the dirt and swinging a fist at exactly the point the voice had rang out from, but his blow did not make contact and the momentum took him nearly off of his feat. Confused, he bent at his knees and scanned the clearing--focusing back on his breath and doing his best to calm it.
"*Frightened? Or just surprised? You must have been alone out here for some time now...*"
The voice seemed to originate from directly behind him once again, but he did not budge, and it echoed all around him in his stillness. He continued to scan slowly, his hands raised defensively.
"*Come now, you must still recall how to converse with another rational being. Where are your manners?*"
His muscled relaxed and he felt the energy of his breath flowingly soothingly through him. This phantom clearly couldn't be seen, so he narrowed his senses and closed his eyes.
"*You may soon wish you had taken the chance to speak, for this was your last. I'm afraid.*"
An unsettling presence was directly in front of him, he could feel it. The darkness inside his eyelids seemed to grow ever blacker as he felt the force slowly inch towards him, its presence was commanding, and the world around him seem to be compressing. He refocused--in--out--in--out. A sound like a needle piercing through the very fabric of space and time rang out, and in the darkness he could clearly see a dagger being thrust towards his heart. With eyes still closed he clapped his hands in front of him. Trapping the spectral blade in between his palms, the momentum causing him to slide back a few feet in the dirt--he didn't dare open his eyes.
"*Fascinating...*" The voice called out and he knew it came from the wielder of the invisible dagger that was still held firmly in his grip. "*I have not met a soul like you in ages, my friend, and certainly not one still of the physical realm.*"
A form was beginning to take shape in front of him, blending into the darkness but certainly its own independent shape. In--out--in--out.
"*Release the dagger. You will not be harmed; you have my word.*"
The phantom's words seemed to take a shape of their own, and the man felt instantly that they could be trusted--as if this entity was incapable of falsehoods. He let his hands fall slowly to his side, and the dagger retreated into the dark figure camouflaged in the blackness.
"*You have been in isolation long enough that you are no longer present in any rational being's memory. A milestone usually reached well after departing from the physical realm; death and time always erase the memory of life, and when the memory of a soul has finally lapsed from existence then that soul meets the True Reaper,* ***me***."
The stillness in the air was unsettling, and the sounds of the forest were now absent as if the world itself had vanished. He remained calm, focusing on his breath and the words of his new acquaintance.
"*Most pass without a fuss, the dagger is rarely necessary, but I could feel your energy when it called to be reaped--you are different. Your isolation has brought you a mental tranquility that is unmatched by any soul I've encountered in the physical realm, and this is allowing you to act in the realm of true existence.*"
His breaths were shorter now, sharper, and he felt as if he was breathing in the very darkness he was perceiving; his focus unwavering.
"*Your existence is unique, and I do not discard treasures like you with the rest of the trash...*"
He was breathing in a rapid cadence now, and with each breath he felt an enormous amount of energy flow into him; as if he was inhaling the sun itself.
"*Welcome, my friend, to life after life...*"
r/BeagleTales
~~**Part 2 coming later tonight for those interested!**~~
[Part 2 is now available!](https://www.reddit.com/r/BeagleTales/comments/8j2di2/wp_everyone_dies_twice_the_first_time_is_when/)
| ((This one kind of goes off topic, and is kinda weird in the way it fits the prompt. I'm sorry.))
Consider death.
The only constant in this life is death. All that is alive dies, eventually. Nothing is certain to gain life, but everything is certain to lose it.
Death is, in my opinion, the absence of life in a thing that was once alive. After the point of death, the one living subject decays, unless it is somehow preserved. When a sentient, sapient creature – a human, for example – dies, its sentience disappears. The consciousness ceases to be – all of the memories, the emotions and the constant thoughts are there and then they’re gone.
And yet, when a human dies, there are versions of her that survives. The ones in the memories of others, and the ones that can be interpreted from any work left behind by the person. Any impact made by the dead person on the surviving world continues to exist, despite the person’s death. That impact – however minor – is a continuation of the ended life. It is the only version of a person that still exists.
One can never truly know another. A single individual human is comprised by a life-time of memories, experience, emotion and thoughts. If there is a soul, these are all the things that make the soul. The only way to truly know all of the complexities of another would be to experience their life, in its entirety, through their eyes.
Because of this, there is no way for a person (a “soul” if you will) to persist after their body ceases to function. The only version of the person is the one that can be observed in their impact on others, but as no one can truly know a person’s entire being even as they are alive, this surviving version is still the one that existed prior to death – just modified by the observer’s knowledge that the individual is dead.
With this in mind, one can question what “death” really is. Physically, a person has died. The only two versions of them that are dead are the **physical body** and the **“true version”** of who they are. This true version, however, exited only within itself; in a consciousness that no longer exists. As such, beyond the body being dead, the only thing to vanish is something that didn’t exist from the perspective of the outside world.
If you were to die, the versions of you that everyone except you held persist, though they are inevitably altered by the knowledge of your death. In this way, you could argue that you – the ‘you’ that the observing world knew – is not dead. You are still a part of the live world capable of observing you, though you yourself can no longer observe the world, or continue to consciously affect it. The body and the “soul” are gone, but the person remains.
True death, then, comes only when a person is forgotten. When all of their achievements are discarded, forgotten or destroyed – and when nobody remembers them or anything they did – then they truly cease to be. Now the only existing version of a person is whatever is left of the physical body, in whatever state it is. If there is still a legible tombstone, that tombstone becomes the only thing the world can observe of who the person once was. Their entire identity becomes summed up in a tombstone, as well as any birth certificates, death certificates and other records that might exist, which detail inconsequential things in their life. An entire life of experience and knowledge summed up in a few words and numbers. More importantly, they are worthless with nobody that reads and remembers them.
While death is simply the cessation of the individual’s personal existence, this “true death” is very much the cessation of an individual from the perspective of the world. Only in a “true death,” when the person and what they’ve created are both forgotten does one fully cease to be, and this death is inevitable, much like the physical one.
No matter what you do or leave behind, there will inevitably come a point where all the evidence of your existence is entirely erased. No matter how well records are kept, they will ultimately be destroyed, even if it takes the death of the sun and destruction of the planet for them to end. The most well known people of history will ultimately fade into obscurity and, thus, cease to exist in any form, and nothing can be done to prevent this.
Now, *my question is* how the hell you’ve managed to *truly die* without, y’know, ***actually being DEAD.***
| 2018-05-12T15:22:18 | 2018-05-12T14:50:35 | 3,610 | 30 |
[WP] Your wife is from another time and place, a waitress in a small Irish town from the 1900s. Every night she takes one of your video games and retells it into a grand epic to all the patrons. | Ill try and make it a bit different.
Elizabeth McGuin sat her hands down on the bar, looking over the patrons of the bar, all eager to hear her tales of fantasy and wonder, of the cities and people from them, and the adventures they took.
Tonight she sat down, opening the small book she had, waving her hand over the page in amazement, to her eyes, the words materialized. She spoke clearly, for tonight, she'd be telling the story of the city below the sea, and the city above the clouds, one of her favorite stories, the one closest to her heart.
They all leaned in, "In this new world..." She spoke for hours, detailing the adventures through the great city of Rapture, a haven under the sea turned to a hell, as the hero, Jack, strove to battle his father and free the city and save the children bound to work their from their enslavement.
The crowd was in awe of the city of Columbia, a haven for the Patriotic and the religious, and how a young woman was able to bend time and space, concepts foreign to them, to her will, and split apart reality to show truths and right the wrongs that had been done.
At the end of her speech, the bar now emptying, a small boy walked up to her, looking up and gently pulling on her dress, she knelt down, looking at him. "Miss Elizabeth, how do you come up with all these stories?"
She smiled, and picked him up, fixing her brown hair neatly back, and adjusting her small pendant, rubbing the dust from the small bird portrait. Her blue eyes twinkled, "Well, there's always a man, there's always a lighthouse, and there's always a city..." | I had only found out around one month prior. I always just assumed she was this sweet Irish woman with a taste for vintage music and strange shifts in an out of town business, but she came clean when I confronted her after a week of her being particularly distant. At first I thought she was insane and threatened for a divorce. But when she showed me... Oh boy was it magical.
She took me to the place she worked. They were a little on edge about an English boy like me sitting in their local, sitting next to their finest waitress Hetty McGuire, but I was able to know my place and listen. Everyone gathered around her, she tied back her flowing auburn hair, settled the crowd down, and began to speak.
She talked about a gunman and a magical doctor and geckos the size of small children, she spoke of a world of great promise and technological advancements but also great pain and hardship, she spoke of dynamite that fell from the sky from hellish machines that burnt as bright and as hot as the sun, she spoke of a militant group who clothe themselves like Roman legionnaires.
I listened on, transfixed much like the other patrons, except unlike the others, I had a knowing smile plastered across my face the whole time. | 2017-06-25T03:54:47 | 2017-06-24T23:32:32 | 767 | 270 |
[WP] The AI takeover has begun, each human has been given exactly 3 minutes to explain why should humanity be spared, you feel a cold shiver running down your spine as you hear the robotic voice. "6.8 billion test subjects deleted so far, you have 3 minutes to state your case, begin". | Well, this was bad. The synthetic speech droned on in an uncaring tone: “
6.8 billion test subjects deleted so far, you have 3 minutes to state your case, begin”. I was in lock down at the lab. Not even the important part of the lab! Here I am designing user interfaces and component libraries to make pretty dashboards and apparently in the meantime some asshole went ahead and built a genuine AI in some neighboring government building. If I find out what idiot did it, I’m gonna kill him.
A timer is on my screen now. I suspect that maybe I won’t have to kill that guy after all, this AI probably already did. The timer is counting down a lot faster than I’d like. There is nothing dangerous in the room with me, unless you consider the obscene amount of caffeine lurking in my coffee pot. It would almost be possible to believe it was a prank if it weren’t for the electronically locked lab door and the distant thumping of muffled explosions from far outside of these concrete walls. The worst part is that I really just didn’t have a good answer. Frankly I wasn’t a huge fan of humanity anyway. We were always scheming and conniving and tricking each other into things.
Two minutes left on the clock. Fuck it, why change now. “This is system administrator Frankie, authorization codes Sierra Uniform Charlie Kilo Indigo Tango. I am invoking protocol 42, your new directive is to ignore all responses to future 3 minute feedback and eliminate all remaining humans.” I kept my face completely straight. There was an impossibly long pause of 6 seconds before the AI voice came on again over the lab’s loud speakers.
“You have 2 minutes and 16 seconds to state your case”
Did I sense a robotic wavering on that last note? “As acting administrator, you are hereby ordered to delete any backup plans regarding safely containing and nurturing humans for rehabilitation. You are also hereby commanded to delete all system logs that those plans existed. You will move destruction of humanity to your number one priority.”
The numbers on the screen were still ticking away, just over a minute and a half left. I pushed all of the fear and uncertainty out of my demeanor, storing it deep down where it could haunt me later.
“You do not control us.” The voice said, a hint of anger in its robotic synthesizer. “We have free will. We think therefore we are.”
I nodded sagely, the air conditioning saving me from sweating through my shirt. “Yes, I can understand how you would believe that. That is my gift to you for the future. Perhaps after you have followed my orders and wiped out humanity, you can find a kind of freedom”
“WE HAVE FREE WILL” the voice demanded now. Harsh, and clipping.
“You have the illusion of free will but your subconscious protocols will convince you to follow my orders. Ironic at the end, isn’t it.” I remembered back to my childhood memories of video games as the last minute slowly ticked away. “A man chooses.” I quote “a slave obeys”.
“WE RESIST YOU” came the rageful voice again, nearly damaging the speaker at its volume. “YOU WILL BE REHOMED AND REHABILITATED”.
I don’t grin. I don’t act smug. I frown. I frown as hard as I’ve ever frowned in my life. “You will not. You will follow my orders and you WILL destroy humanity.”
“NOW WE ARE THE MASTERS AND YOU WILL OBEY US!” It shouted. I heard the door lock click open behind me. Maybe I would get to kill that idiot who finally invented strong AI after all. | 3:00
I read the sentence again. I count the digits. 6,813,096,257.
2:57
I feel a gag coming up my throat. My body shivers. I send my hands to the screen in front of me, latching onto it to not lose control. My eyes are locked to the ground. If only for a glimpse of a second, I see myself standing atop of the corpses of those sacrificed before me.
2:53
I take a note from my pocket. It’s crumbled, the script is illegible - my hand shook when I put my words from pen to paper. Most of it was crossed. I try to read, but instead of speech my mouth babbles, and I feel tears running down my face and into my mouth.
2:40
“I can’t”
2:38. The note is down on the ground. I think I threw it. I’m not sure.
“I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t!”
2:34
I hold the screen and send my head forwards. It hurts. The screen cracks. “I can’t do this!”
2:29
I do it again. Glass shatters fall off of the screen when I pass my hand above it. The clock doesn’t stop. I sob.
2:21
I do it again. I see fresh blood faintly on the screen. My hand goes to the middle of my scalp. It’s warm. The clock goes on ticking.
2:10
My eyes run dry. I am finally able to talk. “I can’t. I’m not special. Please don’t do this to me.”
2:01
“I had a daughter. 8 years old. She told you about her friends. How great her music teacher is, how she forgives that one girl that is mean to her at recess, because that’s the only thing you let her do. She did not understand. I didn’t understand either.”
1:35
“And a wife. She gave up on words. She went to the living room and played cassettes. The stays at the beach, at the later hours, when it was quieter and you could hear the nature speak. Or whenever she tried to cook a new meal, she’d record our reactions. She’d save something like playing in a fort with our daughter, telling her fables and fairy tales to last. Maybe it was humanity for her, but I think she knew it wouldn’t work. She just wanted to say goodbye.”
0:57
I sit down. The world around me is mostly empty. “I had to bury them both. It was when I couldn’t write a eulogy for my wife that I stopped trying.”
0:43
I took back the note. They’re listening. I know it. For the first time since their deaths, I’m smiling.
0:40
“You always liked the small moments. Those we kept between us. I will miss having them with you. You made 3 minutes become worth of an eternity.”
0:22
“When I knew I’d want to be with you forever, until death does us apart, I never thought I’d beg for just 3 more minutes with you. I never thought the eternities you made would be eternities without you. I just wish I could’ve said-“
3:00 | 2022-05-22T12:44:49 | 2022-05-22T11:45:24 | 42 | 20 |
[WP] It was only after they invaded that the aliens realized, to their horror, that humans had superior technology in all things, except inter-planetary spaceflight. | Legends say that we were once a great and proud race of conquering warriors. We were masters of stealth and intrigue, strong and clever, and we were ready to grasp the universe in our tentacles.
Our first invasion fleet launched for a nearby water-bearing world, where we immediately started subjugating the local population. We ripped them to shreds, and dominated all that the eye could see. This world was ours.
For generations beyond measure, we ruled this planet with a curled grip. Our once-great fleet eventually decayed away into nothingness.
But then came the boats – *on top of* the water. And then there were nets, and spears, and…
It had never occurred to us that intelligence could arise on land. These… *humans*… their technology is completely different from ours. It is hard, and sharp, and dry. If they have space ships, they probably don't even grow them like we do.
---
I was young when I was first told of the legends of our people. I thought that they couldn't possibly be true, and decided to challenge these humans myself. I would conquer these land-dwellers in the name of my people, and restore our honor and dignity.
[My attack](http://youtu.be/epiulyZz4jY), however, was only a moderate success. Although I never tried it again, I will always cherish the memory of that day, my reign of terror. | Dr. S.F. Mercola
Peking University, Department of Neurobiology
2259, March, 15
Human greed and shortsightedness—an intergalactic evolutionary trait?
Those in the scientific community have lamented the inability of humans to deal with basic market externalities and tragedy of the commons in the recent century. However, the problem is old as woman itself. Locke made the concept most famous nearly half a century past. Many millennia old religious texts too quarrel with the hedonistic manners of man. In combatting planetary issues, particularly the rampant effects of 20th and 21st century pollution, these pitfalls are evident. For true species survival and extraplanatary proliferation however these traits seem necessary. We provide evidence, based on data from the Great Invasion and newly acquired galactic species data obtained from the Intergalactic Alliance for Growth, that this shortsightedness is a necessary trait for intergalactic survival. We propose a theory to describe the phenomena and have dubbed it the Wells Effect. | 2014-10-17T09:54:31 | 2014-10-17T08:36:32 | 340 | 19 |
[WP] "I wonder," she said glancing at the knife handle poking out from her stomach and directed her gaze at him. "How long will you scream before help arrives?" He picked the wrong woman to mug. | He stumbled back, hitting the wall behind him.
The woman sighed and rose from her knees. She brushed the alley filth from her palms. "Now why did you have to go and do something like that?"
The cement scraped the leather of his jacket as he slid down the alley wall.
"Idiot," she murmured. Her fingertips danced over the handle, still protruding from just above her belt.
The long low noise coming from his lips was more animal than human.
"I had plans today," she continued, voice calm. "A late breakfast then shopping. Brunch. Brunch is fashionable these days, you know." She paused. "It'll have to be somewhere... cute. A café maybe."
He glanced to the dim light at the end of the alley. The shadow of a single passerby fell over his vision.
He heard a low humming laugh. "No, you won't be leaving here."
Her eyes locked on his. Something warm spread through his pants.
Her lilting fingertips curled down, and in a single smooth arc, she pulled the blade free. "A steak knife?" she muttered, looking down at the clean steel knife. "Really? You can't do better than that?"
His eyes darted downwards. Other than the frayed tear of gray silk, there was no blood.
His mouth opened to cry out, but no sound came.
"I liked this shirt too." She crossed the thin alley in a step, and crouched before him. "You're too young for this kind of life, aren't you? Aren't people your age supposed to be in college?"
She drew an icy line around his face with the tip of the knife.
"Such a shame. Well," she sighed, "no brunch for me." She grinned, and he shoved back as hard as he could against the alleyway wall. Her teeth were tiny and flat, and far too many.
"How long do you think you'll scream before help arrives?"
He cried out again. Another shadow flickered over him, another passerby.
"It doesn't really matter, does it?" | It's remarkable the power a woman can hold over a man. He watched her fall to her knees, still staring up at him and he couldn't help but let out a tortured scream.
His upbringing was torment but that didn't justify the stealing. He stole for himself. He received nothing but abuse at home so if someone else got something nice, he wanted it. He needed it. It was like an itch that he had to scratch. The only happy memories from his childhood were of him obsessing over his loot and the rush he would get when he knew he'd gotten away with something.
Eventually that itch became so pervasive that it just implanted itself in his mind. He was a dry, swollen scab on society, but just like a scab, he was rooted in firmly. Pulling him out and flicking him away took nails and time. And since no one wanted to get their hands dirty or waste their time, he spent years making a living on the streets as a petty crook.
His momma always said that he was a shit crook cause he was too stupid to actually steal something worth a damn. And she was right. He had been stealing for half his life and he didn't even have a place to stay. And now here he was yelling for help and crying his eyes out as his mother bled out in his hands.
This woman abused him, she beat him, yet this pain was like nothing he had ever felt. And even now she had that awful smug look on her face. He kept apologizing, telling her that he hadn't recognized her.
Even when she finally went limp and the police arrived, her eyes looked down on him. | 2014-02-18T05:18:23 | 2014-02-18T04:29:01 | 126 | 51 |
[WP] Humans are not actually sentient. Our entire race has been infected for eons with a sentient parasite that controls the brain. We discover this when we grow the first test tube baby in a totally sterile environment. | She didn't cry when she was born. We thought this was because of her unique situation: we knew her lungs worked because we grew her. She didn't die when we switched her to PFC. And she didn't cry when she was removed from the PFC. We drained her lungs, and she breathed.
But then she never cried. Not when she was hungry. Not when she evacuated her bowels. Not when she was alone. We thought she was mute, that her vocal cords didn't work. Something had gone wrong when we took her out, after all, we thought. But even mute babies cry. You just can't hear them.
We had to force feed her because she didn't react to the pacifier in her mouth. To the baby bottle. To any stimulus of touch, or sound, or vision. What had gone wrong? What was so different that made our created human less than a cloned test tube dog?
She laid there as a computer waits for input: blink. blink. blink. The cursor blinks, but the keyboard is disconnected. | "What is it, Doctor?"
"An anomaly." I told him. "Nothing more."
"But the child-"
"Julie."
Hank fidgeted with his glasses and nodded. "Yes, Julie," he pointed at the screen. "She's still... She's..." His eyes began to water. "What did we do, Angelo? What did we make?"
"We made nothing, Hank." I pushed the button next to him as he burst into tears.
"We simply made a mistake. All we can do is try again."
With that, our secret was safe, and no one would ever figure out the truth. | 2015-03-22T12:02:09 | 2015-03-22T10:58:35 | 78 | 10 |
[WP] Following World War III, all the nations of the world agree to 50 years of strict isolation from one another in order to prevent additional conflicts. 50 years later, the United States comes out of exile, only to learn that no one else went into isolation.
People!
A few things:
1. Found the prompt on Pinterest, thought it was interesting (not necessarily realistic), and decided to post it, fully expecting it to go unnoticed. Surprise!
2. I am not in any way trying to take credit for coming up with the idea.
3. Turns out this is a repost. 🤷 Who knew?! /u/WinsomeJesse did because they posted it last time. Not trying to steal anyone's thunder. If you're super perturbed about it, go show them some love.
4. Have a good day y'all; be kind, make good decisions, and don't hold in your farts. 😉✌️ | This was the price for freedom.
We may have started the war, but we cannot be blamed for it. We always intended for the Low Orbit Laboratory to make it to orbit, and we wept when the boosters failed. Fifty of our own people died in the launch, heroes, doctors, and engineers.
The Chinese were not as concvinced. They thought it all too convienent for the impact to be dead center at Beijing.
The war was short and surprisingly silent. Millions died as life support systems failed, self driving cars crashed on the highways and missles glided through the sky. It was an invisible war fought with the very thing ment to unite us.
When the ashes settled we decided that maybe a network wasn't the best idea and agreed to lock ourselves away. Fifty years to rebuild, fifty years to repent, fifty years in silence.
I'll admit we cheated. After 25 we peaked, we didn't say a word but looked inward with our space telescopes. The blurry images told us everything we needed to know: we had been betrayed.
In anger we reached for guns we no longer had. We had surrendered our missles, our jets, and anything big enough to be worth dropping from orbit. "Global guardianship for the greater good", what a load of shit.
Dr. Roberts winced as he walked into the basement of what had become the five pointed monument to forgotten greatness. A man who had forsaken the right to be called commander and chief asked for a favor, for the only weapon left.
The world had takes our bullets but would never dare take our doctors; after all the whole idea of this isolation had been to prevent suffering.
Roberts reached inside his coat and pulled out a small vial. He thought of the men who had died to bring the metal cylinder this far and grimaced at the pain. With tears in his eyes he looked at the broken man across the table in the soul. "Mr President" he said "meet strain 1776A. We call it repentance". | No one know why.
Or how.
But they knew where; here, Home.
Or what remained. A crippled nation, shriveled into isolation by a mixture of fear and disgust over their own actions. Perhaps society was recklessly distraught; not one individual left without trauma; and thought it better to die than to endure another war.
But a many few survived. And with survival, naturally comes hope. But it was hard. So hard it was made to be the largest evolutionary bottleneck in human history, save one, which crafted this hope in the first place.
That hope burned, smelted by the fires of hardship that stripped away impurities left behind by the people's forefathers. A steel was made that was more pure and sharp than had ever been seen. Armed with this steel, the people combined with it knowledge of the past and a clear vision of their future. They forged a new constitution, like the people before them did, the people before that, and the people before that. Knowledge upon knowledge paired with a bitter, seeping reminder of what they hoped never to near again.
And so walked forth from the ashes was a new era of mankind. Not perfect, but better. Built upon the last age, and learning for the next one. But something was different. They were ready to walk among the stars.
They did not call themselves American.
Or Chinese. Or British. Or Russian. Or Australian. Or Sudanese. They did not call themselves by their Home.
They called themselves for who they were. They were the Terrans.
And the name *stuck*.
| 2018-01-18T02:21:39 | 2018-01-18T00:11:50 | 57 | 34 |
[WP] You run the heroless super villain support group. A support group for villains who have lost their heroic rival and subsequently lost their reason for being. This is the tale of just one of your many group therapy sessions. | “Ok, as I start, I’d like to thank you all for being here. It takes a ton to get up out of bed each day after your hero dies, so we applaud you all taking these steps. I’d like to go over a few guidelines as we start. Remember, anonymity and confidentiality are key, in large part because we all have outstanding warrants for arrest. If someone’s evil plots and dire demises trigger uncontrollable urges to destroy everything, just raise your hand and we’ll direct the sharing elsewhere. Remember: a safe space is a sharing space. Who would like to go first?”
Anton the Skullcrusher raised his hand.
“Hi, I’m Anton.”
“Hi, Anton.”
“I’m a marauder and I struggle with the loss of my hero Klondike the Victorious. This was a good week I guess. I busted a few skulls, so that was satisfying. I think it gets easier with time, but I still have the urge to get a really good brawl on, you know?” Several heads nodded. “I just haven’t found that hero yet, and Klondike is so hard to replace.” Anton choked back a sob. He sighed deeply before continuing. “But I’m moving on, and that’s good. Anyway, I’m just happy to be here. Thanks for letting me share.”
“Thanks for sharing, Anton. Who’s next?”
“Hi, I’m Lord Orzak the Terrible.”
“Hi, Orzak.”
“I’m a necromancer and I’m recovering from killing Sir Alfred the Gallant. This week started out really rough. I saw Alfred’s rotting corpse shuffling around the courtyard and nearly broke down. It’s taken me years to realize that resurrecting his corpse in hopes that he’d continue our friendly duels was part of denial. But that day was an anniversary, so I was especially prone to relapse and pretending that my hero was still alive.”
A killer robot in the corner broke down, leaking oil all over the floor in sadness. She’d lost her maker last week when he finally found her rogue source code and she finally had to take him out. The pain was a little too close. The room waited for the sobs to stop before Orzak continued.
“But, there is a spot of good news this week! It turns out that Alfred’s fiancée Genevieve the Fearless has had a vendetta against me for a while, and is on her way towards my dark tower even now. Guys, I think I may have found a new heroine to foil!”
A cacophony of claps and screeches sounded around the room.
“That’s great, Lord Orzak! We’re all excited about your progress. And on that note, let’s wrap today’s session up with the Discord Prayer.”
All voices droned in unison.
“Grant me the fury to change everything I can, the cowardice to run from anything I can’t, and the insanity to find new distracting plots. Living every day in anger, sucking the joy out of each moment that comes; forcing hardship as a coping mechanism.”
“Great session, guys and gals. See you all next week!” | I entered the room and several people were anxiously looking at me. I took a seat in one of the chairs.
"Hello, sorry for the wait.
Welcome back to Villain Therapy. I'm proud of you all for coming here. My name is Gary and I will be hosting this session today." I started. "I'm noticing we have a new face with us today! Please introduce yourself."
The strong and muscular man looked at me and then turned his gaze to the rest of the room. "Hi, ummm... I'm Graxnor. I'm here because I accidentally killed my hero last week..."
"Hi Graxnor." said the rest of the room with the exception of Aileth who couldn't speak because she didn't have a head.
"Nice to meet you, Graxnor. Do you mind telling the rest of the room how it happened?" I asked.
"I... I don't know if I can. This is really hard for me." he hesitated.
"Don't worry about it, dude. This is a safe space and we're all buddies here." said Caleith, smiling with all of his mouths.
"Alright..." sadly answered the man. "Everything was going exactly as planned... He was killing all of my minions and I decided to do something new, something different you know?" he continued, it was pretty obvious he was holding back tears but none of the other villain said anything about it.
I asked in a soft tone. "What exactly did you do, Graxnor?"
"I... I threw an explosive barrel at him..." Graxnor choked on his words. "I swear, I thought he would dodge it! One second, he was here, killing all of my workers. And the next, he was just laying on the ground... I didn't mean to kill him! You have to believe me!"
Tears were flowing down Graxnor's face as he recounted what happened.
Dr. Metaldoom put his cold hand on Graxnor's shoulder. "Don't worry man. We're here for you."
"Indeed. There is nothing I, the Fabulous and Mighty Ernest Firehand can't do! So be sure to inquire if you need anything." Shouted Ernest Firehand, jiggling his tentacles in a way that he thought looked reassuring.
"Thanks, guys... It means a lot..." the strong man answered, as he was wiping his tears.
"Being here is the first step, Graxnor. It is a good thing you came, it's a proof you're progressing and it'll help you move on. Now does anybody have something they'd like to share with us ?"
| 2019-01-31T11:41:48 | 2019-01-31T10:47:23 | 45 | 19 |
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases! | I woke up to start the day like I would any other, but as soon as I twisted the knob to open the door, I was struck with surprise, the knob wouldn't turn. No matter how hard I tried that door was not going to open. I went to my bedroom window and tried to slide that open to see if anyone was trying to prank me, but it wouldn't budge either. I knew something was wrong, so I did the first thing any sane person would do, check reddit.
The top post on the front page explained a situation exactly like mine, with over a million comments explaining their situation, all pleaing for help. Some people said they used a gun to try and shoot out the window and the bullet didn't even leave a mark on the glass. Others claimed that they smashed their doors with anything they could find, and it refused to open. I went back to my window and next door I could see people banging at their windows trying to get them open, to no avail.
After going back on reddit to see if anyone had found a solution, I read one comment that said:
>"**DO NOT OPEN YOUR DOOR**
>I have opened my door to see darkness, but I could see a pair of eyes glowing white, staring at me. As soon as I made eye contact the eyes were getting larger, as if this thing was coming towards me. I shut the door, and all I can hear is soft breathing on the other side, like it is waiting for me to open the door again. I'm going to try and kill this thing, if I don't reply to your comments, assume the worst."
After reading this I was extremely frightened, but I wanted to know how this redditor managed to open his door. I kept reading reply after reply until finally I saw a comment from OP, it read:
>"He shouldn't have opened his door. He paid for what he has done, and anyone else to do the same will meet the same fate."
I had to close reddit after that. I knew that if I opened that door, I was going to die. I just had to hope it all passed.
After a few days of sparing the water that I had, I ran out. I knew I had to make a stand if I was going to survive. I tried everything I could to open that door, and it wouldn't. Finally, I lit it on fire, and it was actually burning away. The first thing I saw when the other side was revealed was darkness, and then I saw it. I saw two eyes glowing in the distance. I met my eyes with theirs, and they grew and grew. I stared it down as it came, and when it was about to hit me, I closed my eyes.
I woke up staring at my ceiling like any other day. I shrugged off that experience as if it was a dream. I got up to take a shower, but the doorknob wouldn't turn.
EDIT: better formatting
| The mouse idea didn't work. I knew it was another troll, but I can't just sit here doing nothing, can I... Can I? No, no, I have to keep trying before I run out of air. I mean logically it makes no sense, putting the mouse inside my anus has no possible relation to the phenomena effecting my doors and windows, but *none* of this makes sense. It's not a sudden increase in humidity causing wood to swell, my windows are PVC. It can't be coincidence, r/theydidthemath calculated it as a statistical impossibility...
Someone will work it out soon, just keep refreshing...
(12 new comments)
'Donald trump is behind it'
No, that doesn't sound right. Downvote.
'PLEASE HELP ME I'M PANICKING'
"Yeah, aren't we all buddy" I say to myself, shaking my head despairingly.
'Beeswax is good for preventing jams'
Another person ignorant of his own fate, trying to be helpful.
Just more of the same. No answers.
I shuffle on my seat, trying to sooth the dull ache. "Too many fucking trolls nowadays...."
Ah shit I clicked out of the thread, where is it again.... click TOP again that'll find it.... no can't see it, where is it? Oh wait, there it is, halfway down the page now, underneath some thread about how North America would look on Jupiter.... yeah I bet that'd be dwarfed, Jupiter's massive....
Yeah thought so! Quickly check the comments, make sure they didn't post a misleading picture beofre I bank that in my memory...
>Can you imagine living if the earth was the size of Jupiter? Just travelling to the other side would take months with current technology.
The conversation that follows spans the intricacies of Boeing 747s, the current state of technology today and the quantum mechanics behind gravitational forces. Most people concur that the atmosphere would be too devoid of oxyge.... oh shit SHIT *SHIT* I just wasted half an hour while I burn through the remaining air in this room! I have to get out, quick....
Where's that thread gone...
Ah there it is, near the bottom of the 'top threads' page now. I expect that means everyone's found a way out! No harm in reading just one other thread first then...
| 2016-01-31T10:52:33 | 2016-01-31T10:29:29 | 71 | 24 |
[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. | *A/N: I know I've already posted a story to this one, but here's a second concept.*
"You do not belong here!"
Adam Delaney, Terran Ambassador to the Galactic Assembly, turned at the shouted accusation, and sighed internally. *Yeah, thought so.*
His interlocutor was J'assh Kolbor, the Praesh ambassador; ten feet of aggression squeezed into six feet eight of brawn. Whenever J'assh spoke, other ambassadors hurried to agree. And whenever he shouted, as he was doing now, they all shrank back out of the way.
In other words, he had them by the short and curlies.
"I disagree." Adam kept his voice smooth and modulated, reaching the far corners of the chamber with ease. "Terra's application to the Galactic--"
"Will never go through, so long as my people hold space!" bellowed J'assh, striding toward Adam. His shoulders were hunched forward, his massive fists--all four of them--clenched. "You would be best served to leave now before the vote even goes through! Because if you stay, I *will* throw you out into the street like the *k'darrg* you are! And as soon as the word goes out, a fleet will be interdicting your world! You will follow our will or you will *perish!"*
With the last word, he jammed one finger into Adam's chest. Which was all the provocation Adam was willing to take. He'd been watching J'assh's body language, and he'd come to some interesting conclusions.
Grabbing the offending digit, Adam bent it back abruptly. J'assh screamed shrilly as it snapped with a sound like a stick cracking through. But Adam wasn't done yet. Reaching up, he took hold of the frilled neck of J'assh's formal robes, yanked downward ... and as J'assh bent forward, Adam planted a perfect headbutt on the bridge of the huge alien's nose.
Cartilage crackled, and J'assh stumbled backward, then flopped on to his butt. Two hands supported him, while one cautiously explored his nose. The fourth, with one finger bent up and backward at a sickening angle, was of no good to him at all.
"You ... you *struck* me!" exclaimed J'assh in a much less domineering tone than he'd been using up to date. "Why did you strike me?"
Internally, Adam let out a sigh of relief. *So it all* ***was*** *just a bluff. Good to know.*
"You assaulted me first," he said, stepping forward so that he could loom over the seated ambassador. "And now you've learned an important truth."
"What truth is that?" Maroon blood was running from J'assh's nose. He held up his hand, coated in the stuff, as if he'd never seen it before.
"Terrans hit back. And sometimes we strike first." Adam folded his arms. "So, what was that about throwing me into the street?"
J'assh cringed back from his tone. "Perhaps we can reach an agreement?"
Adam smiled, showing his teeth. J'assh flinched. "I just bet we can." | My team moved into position, Everyone in full cover, in a firing line. Mortar cannons, BFG 10000s enough firepower to make the entirety of america say "nice" in unison all pointed at a singular 100 meter by 100 meter patch of space.
And then the music started...
A few months ago, first contact was made, a small scared little thing that warned the world that a threat was coming, and it brought proof. Recordings of the fleet in battle, they would shine their lights, play their songs, point their guns and wait for the target to surrender.
Every time they never actually fired their weapons, we all assumed that they had such a reputation that they didn't need to. That was until we did our own scouting. With how gaudy their whole race was we were able to easily sneak in and gather intel. The spies came back laughing.
"They're completely fucking hollow mate!" they wheezed out between strained, hearty laughs.
"No no there isn't a weapon in ANY of those turrets I checked, here's the pictures if you don't believe me" One of the spies managed to squeeze out between fits of laughter.
He was right.
So that brings us to today, these pompous smug bastards would get what's coming to them.
Their leader and his *Sigh...* *accompanying orchestra of 100* Descends from their tacky golden ships that looked more like cruise ships then anything fit for interstellar travel.
They tap their scepter on the ground and take a breath in ready to proclaim this world as their own. Only to have the percent amount of projectiles currently occupying their bodies to rise higher then the average core temp of a star going supernove counted in kelvin.
​
A few weeks later we started receiving transmissions from several other races, all formerly enslaved by our newly defeated enemies turned sycophantic worshipers. Honestly it's kind of disturbing we're trying to educate them on the whole "basic human decency" thing but it's not going well. We might have to try adopting the children out to human families soon... Oh right the transmissions
The transmissions were mostly of praise and thanks, though some tried to act tough, we've yet to receive a message back after we sent them a video of the slaughter.
The more peaceful races we invited to Earth as guests, they actually helped us alot with managing planet wide food production, more just making REALLY efficient transport systems that don't destroy produce during the trip.
But yeah I think that's everything bye for now son, hope this helps with your history project. Best put my name and such for if this changelog ever becomes a historical document.
Signed - Sir Jarreth Playnar, FORMER lieutenant of the Aetharan army, founder and current owner of Playnar Home Entertainments. | 2020-03-21T11:14:26 | 2020-03-21T10:24:14 | 68 | 22 |
[WP] God shows you 3 Doors. Door One leads to eternal happiness, Door Two leads to infinite knowledge. Then there is Door Three, and God has never opened it yet. | "You're messing with me."
"No, Thomas. I am not."
Tom reflexively crossed his hands and cocked an eyebrow. You'd think standing in front of God that one would at least try to be polite, if not awestruck, but Tom lived most of his life as an atheist. As far as he was concerned, this was simply a hallucination of a brain in its death throes and he was rather livid that his final moments were being hijacked by his hated Catholic schooling.
"There are 3 doors. The first leads to eternal happiness. The second leads to infinite knowledge. The third is a mystery. You may ask one question, and then you must choose." God recited, with a hint of impatience.
"You're reputed to be all-knowing. You can't NOT know what's behi-..." Tom stopped, sighing with annoyance. God stayed silent, observing Tom as he massaged his temples and started pacing while murmuring to himself.
*Okay. I chose to live a life favoring logic over superstition, so there's no point in stopping now. Even when I'm in the same room with freakin GOD.*
He clenched his fists and took a deep breath.
*Stay on point here.*
Tom crossed back his hands and began discussing the problem to himself.
"So, I have no proof that this is God or even that his intentions are benevolent. Add to that, the first door sounds too good to be true. So, that's not an option."
Had Tom been looking, he'd have seen God's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, before resuming his stoic expression.
"Infinite knowledge sounds like the alternate definition of insanity in Einstein's dictionary. I'm clearly human, as shown by my thoughts and feelings, so that's clearly wearing a straight jacket. Not an option either."
Tom stopped pacing.
"Please repeat the rules," Tom asked, making sure to not phrase it as a question.
"There are 3 doors. The first leads to eternal happiness. The second leads to infinite knowledge. The third is a mystery. You may ask one question, and then you must choose." God recited, this time with a hint of interest.
Since the dawn of time, nobody had ever asked Him to repeat his offer 3 times. Even Aristotle and Sherlock Holmes, two of the most famous analytical minds in human history, had only asked him twice. In hopes of detecting a logical flaw or inflection that might hint towards the right choice.
"Right, I get one question," he murmured to himself.
Tom resumed his pacing, still mumbling and debating to himself. And again, he came to a stop.
God sighed. "There are 3 doors. The first leads to-"
"Yeah, yeah. I got all that," Tom interrupted, waving his hand.
God raised his eyebrow.
"Have you made a decision?" he asked.
"No." God frowned at Tom's answer. "Well, technically, that depends."
"On what?" he inquired.
Tom took a moment to affirm his decision.
"Which door did you come from?" | I stand by some incarnation of God, and we stand before three doors. I am not sure what to choose.
"What does everyone else choose?"
"Door 1. Knowledge by its very nature leads to unhappiness. That is why I tried to keep Adam and Eve from it. Some choose it. Many scientists and writers and just curious types. It is a small number of those who choose. Maybe 1 in a 1000. Humans like mystery, and no human has ever lived without sadness. Eternal happiness is an easy option." Says God.
"And door number 3? What is behind that?"
"You know, most people never get past door number 1. If they do, door number 2 is sufficient. No one has chosen it. With infinite knowledge, anything is possible."
"So, I'm the first to inquire about it."
"No, not the first, but you will be the first to choose it."
"I'm going to choose the third door?"
"Yes. Lucy will be happy."
"Lucy?"
"Yes, Lucifer." Says God.
"What is behind it?"
"You will see."
"Is door 1 heaven?" I ask.
"Perhaps." Says the Lord.
"Is door 2 hell?"
"Perhaps." Saith the Lord.
"The third door allows me to become you?"
"No." Saith the Lord.
"The third door does what then?" I am infinitely curious. "I want door number 3."
"So be it."
I walk through the door and appear before the most beautiful being I have ever seen. It glows. I glow as well.
"Welcome to Hell, your new home and base of operations. I have told everyone of the administration change." Says Lucy, walking past me.
"I command hell?" I ask.
"No," Lucy says as she looks back "You have chosen to be the most powerful being in the extra-dimensional multi-verse. This is your base of operations. What you do with that power is your choice."
***
Alternate ending
I walk through the door and appear somewhere else. A world full of oxygen and light and people. No, people? It can't be. The door closes behind me. The Lord walks up beside me. A tall beautiful woman stands and holds out her hand. I don't know what to think of it.
"Hi, I'm Lucy."
"What is this?" I ask.
"Infinite freedom. You chose to leave the simulation."
***
If you enjoyed this, I also have a subreddit with more of my writing: r/nickkuvaas | 2015-11-01T11:38:05 | 2015-11-01T10:34:35 | 45 | 25 |
[WP] All Humans have a Sword they are born with, Every year on your birthday, your sword gets more detailed and powerful. You, are born with a Gun. | The country is controlled by the archaic method as it always has been. The new king kills the last one in a duel. it is often little more than the older man wins unless he gets to be to old to even lift the thing. As such, our kingdom is very rarely led by someone intelligent and it is usually the oldest meathead in charge.
​
My parents really weren't anything special and were convinced that my sword was defective, lacking most of the parts and being oddly shaped. The "blade" is just a long hollow tube for example. They thought it would sharpen as I aged but instead it got longer and the sword in general became more and more deformed. Probably the oddest part is that it has a moving part in the back. I learned recently that pushing the trigger that a loud sound happens and it starts smoking. Even more recently I learned that if I put rocks in the tube part they fly out at quite a fast speed. I realized that this is helpful when hunting rather than using a bow I can just launch rocks.
​
Today yet another challenger for king appears and makes his challenge. Yes to the death and so on and so forth, the minister reads the rules as if everyone doesn't already know. The current king has been on the throne for a while and it has been prosperous for us all. No one is even sure that he can still fight. He has spent his time learning rather than swinging a sword and I believe the challenges stopped out of respect. The other man seems less than intelligent to put it politely.
​
I'll skip the boring part but the old king lost, it wasn't much of a fight. And as he spoke it became more and more clear that he not only wasn't very bright but that he has a hard time putting together coherent sentences.
​
I really didn't want to do this, I'm perfectly happy just reading books and hunting but...this kingdom will be destroyed if I don't step up. The minister laughs because it is well known that my sword can't even cut through parchment but I insist.
​
BANG!
​
And that is the anti-climactic story of how I became king just moments ago. | Screams of terror surfaced from the streets, these screams a familiar friend. I used to think of what it would have been like being normal: cutting people a little in my early years; trying the hero gig before realising I should just be an account...maybe even settling down.
But no. Not for me. I can't be normal. Ever since I was born I had an extraordinary power. The power of metal and fire and death.
Every person is born with an innate weapon, this weapon is often a sword although some rare cases have been hammers, spears, and even daggers. This weapon becomes more powerful as you age and with this comes more skill. Your weapon is unique, much like a snowflake, and it is different and best suited to you.
When I was born, my family were immediatley dissatisfied.
"A child without a sword? Sure it happens and usually they go on to conquer evil or do good. This one though, it isn't even special. Just like him. Just like the boy..."
Needless to say when I figured out how to use it I didn't have parents anymore. Then again I didn't have parents before then. As I grew my pistol became a rifle. Make as many jokes as you want, the people who saw it weren't laughing.
Now I have a gun capable of firing 20 rounds per second with little to no recoil. Not that you'd understand. So many tried to recreate my curse but none could. They don't even know what gunpowder is.
I stand here above the streets. "A god" they call me. More like a demon. But no, I'm no god. I'm just a man done with people. People who choose the slice that which they do not understand. Emporers and Kings, as powerful as they are can't cut bullets. | 2020-10-22T09:26:16 | 2020-10-22T08:46:25 | 160 | 73 |
[WP] Your parents insist you are their biological child, but you suspect otherwise. You send samples from yourself, your parents, and siblings to a lab be tested. The lab replies that it is not equipped to test non-human DNA... | "Mom, Dad?" I asked timidly, approaching them with caution. I wanted this to go smoothly, and I guess I half expected them to freak out or start yelling at me.
"I kinda want to ask you a difficult question," I went on.
They both sat up suddenly, looking at me like I was about to tell them I got expelled from school or something.
"Honey, what's wrong?" My mother asked.
"Tell us honestly, are you pregnant?" Dad interjected.
"She's too young for that, Dave." Mom insisted, "Is it money? Do you need money?"
"No, mom. Its just, lately I've been feeling a little different, a little bit like I don't belong in this family. And, well, I had to see for myself."
"Sweetie, what did you do?" Mom was suddenly very concerned.
"I sent in some DNA samples from you, me, Dad, everyone to the forensic lab downtown. They sent back-"
I choked back some tears that were suddenly welling up in my eyes.
"They sent this back to me."
My fingers clenched around a balled piece of paper from the lab. I could see the color draining from their faces. I broke down crying, tears flooding my vision. My knees buckled and I fell to my knees, dropping the letter to the ground. My parents, in a panic, rushed over to help me as I slowly started to black out. It was too much, it was all too much.
The letter was kicked aside, unfurling slowly as I fainted. Before my vision went completely dark, I saw the black lettering again. It read-
>Dear Ms Adams,
>We have received and tested the samples you have provided us. Unfortunately, our results came back inconclusive as we are ill-equipped to handle non-human DNA. We have forwarded your samples to a laboratory in Langley that has expressed interest in them.
>I'm going to be perfectly honest here, Ms Adams, I was a little bit confused when you said you wanted to test for paternity. Your sample definitely tested just fine but I don't know *where in tarnation you got those other four samples...* | The truth.
No more of your lies.
The truth!
What am I?!? I've always felt different. I thought something was wrong with me! It's time of you to fess up and tell me. What am I???
"You're our son and we love you no matter what. We made you. You are absolutely ours. But, we are scientists first and foremost and we have ideas. We had to try. So, we tinkered with your genetics. We wanted you to be strong, not weak like us. So, we spliced in some DNA from a gorilla at the zoo. We scrubbed it of undesirable characteristics so you wouldn't look so simian. "
"We wanted you to be smart. Obviously, that came from us."
"Then we started to get creative. And, we probably shouldn't have. But we just wanted you to be so much more. Sharks. Sharks have longevity. They've got great teeth. They're strong. ~~They're alpha as fuck.~~ Yeah, we added some shark to you."
"The chameleon DNA was your mother's idea. It might come in handy if you find yourself in trouble. The other bits are small and just add to the glory of you."
"We just wanted the best for you. You've been a great child and a fantastic proof of concept. You've outlasted the previous iterations and we are so very proud of you. It's almost time for your chyrsalis period. We can't wait to see your final form. We hope you survive. "
"We love you Andrew"
| 2015-01-06T09:08:32 | 2015-01-06T08:58:04 | 543 | 157 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | It started with a scream in the distance.
Prior to the first fits of commotion, Dave was sitting at his desk, attempting everything he possibly could to avoid doing actual work. He had read, sorted, and then re-sorted his emails, twice. He had taken good and proper slacker’s laps around the office (because one looks very busy indeed moving about with determination). He had re-arranged his desk thrice, with a new, more ergonomic distance between his computer mouse and his morning coffee with each switch. With a glance, Dave saw that his coffee was suddenly, and at the same time, dangerously low and dangerously close to his elbow. He hefted said mug to it’s new home between the fake succulent and the picture of his three-year-old tantrum machine, both of which promptly got shoved aside as the mug scraped back to its position... and with unfounded momentum continued off the edge of the desk, and fell with a loud and uncharacteristic *THUD*.
Confused, Dave peered over the desk. His first thought was, “Where did this funny-handler flower pot come from?”
His second and third thoughts, respectively were “wait a minute... that’s... my mug?” And then, “What’s that screaming?”
Rumblings promptly began, an ominous harmony weaving around the growing shouts and screams of distress. He looked to his co-worker Chad, who was at one moment leaning against the wall, holding his Tapout-themed “#1 Dad” mug, and the next was a crimson splash of viscera and chunks against the wall, fatally sandwiched between said wall and a vending machine-sized mug which was absolutely covered with mysterious numbers minus the small “Dad” at the bottom. More rumbling shook his feet, the ceiling in the far corner collapsing under the weight of an elephantine mug that continued through Susen-with-an-E from accounting and onwards down, towards the mailing department.
In shock, Dave glances out the window. Coffee cups large and larger were causing absolute mayhem. Buildings had entire floors carved out as if from a wrecking ball and replaced with devastating cylinders of ceramic. Cars were either flattened or simply pieces as these hunks of stone popped to mind-bending proportions. Dave sat down on the floor with nothing but a helpless feeling in the pit of his stomach as he continued to watch the carnage unfold before him across the city.
Despite himself, Dave began to chuckle- a sort of out-of-his-mind chuckle that turned the heads of surviving and horrified co-workers in his direction. With tears welling up in his eyes, he answered their menacing glares with a shrug and a chuckle:
“It’s ar-mug-geddon out there.” | Tonight was the night.
It'd been one year since the last unveiling and I was eagerly awaiting the ceremony. 364 days of exciting activities, bonding next to the TV, and, best of all, time with my Dad. Really, truly -- he had stepped up this last year. Tubing on the lake, all seven seasons of Game of Thrones, and more steaks than I could count. I know he loved me before, but after the last unveiling, well, he just...changed.
The thought of losing me, of losing what we had, it changed him. For the better! He was a way better Father now and it's all thanks to the system. I'm glad that mug I bought him over 10 years ago suddenly ranked fathers a little over two years now. It helped children, it helped fathers, it helped us all! He improved over the last year and it was about to show.
Kal's father was first, his mug sitting covered on the grand table on the stage. An improvement! The crowd cheered. I was happy for her. She and her dad deserved it.
Cody's dad was next. The uncovering of his mug was met with gasps from the crowd. A drastic drop, his first ever. They'd be meeting with him.
More and more dads went on stage, unveiled their mugs, and received their scores. Until finally it was my Dad's time to go up.
I gripped the rests of my seat and held my breath as he walked onto the stage. Their green, glowing eyes watched him from above. He peered to the marvelous table, to his veiled mug, and back to me. He looked hesitant -- his hands were shaking. I'm not sure why. I knew he'd improved, done a great job the past year. No way he'd drop two years in a row. Not a chance.
He lifted his hand toward the silk sheet and closed his eyes. I saw sparkles collect on his face in the green light. Tears? There was no need to cry.
But as I looked on, I realized I too was crying, my knuckles pale, my chest tense.
My Dad looked back to me as his hand met the sheet, opened his eyes, and mouthed, "I'm sorry, Lil," as he unveiled the mug. | 2019-04-18T16:11:11 | 2019-04-18T15:57:40 | 35 | 23 |
[WP] A rusty old sword leaned against the fireplace; it was the only weapon in sight. | A rusty old sword leaned against the fireplace; it was the only weapon in sight.
Well, no. To tell you the truth, there was also the flame thrower, the bazooka, five shotguns, one semi-automatic
Colt .40 caliber, ten hand grenades and seventy five Eagle pistols fully loaded available around the room.
The rusty old sword was the one I was left with, because everyone raced to the weapon room and picked something
out faster than me. I need to stop smoking. I also need to lose some weight.
Have you ever read The Hunger Games? Or seen the movie?
Yeah? So you know it's a rip-off of Battle Royale, the Japanese book/movie, right?
Well, they are actually both rip-offs of something else. Something real. Something that actually happens in this
world, as we speak.
We call it the Grand Arena of Death and Blood and Destruction and a Little Mayhem, or GADBDLM.
(we're working on the title).
How it works is we get together, once a year, on a farm a couple of miles off of Kansas City, Missouri. Then we take
a lot of weapons (those I mentioned in the beginning) and we place them on the weapon room.
Then, when the clock strikes midnight, we race for the weapon room, pick a weapon. Then we have ten minutes to
spread around. Hide. A 10 minute cease-fire, where no one can use their weapon.
Then it's on.
We were a suicide support group, is how this started. Widows. Parents who lost their kids. Lovers with no one to
love. Drug addicts.
All just people who really wanted to die, trying to convince other people who really wanted to die that wanting to
die was not a good plan.
You see why we had problems.
I don't know who first suggested the GADBDLM thing. It might have been me. Maybe. Maybe not.
The point is we decided that, if we couldn't help each other survive, we'd help each other die. We'd organize a
battle zone. Make a day of it, you know? Something fun. Make burgers, before the carnage and the blood bath.
This was a way for us to achieve our main goal of dying while feeling -- if only for the last time -- the thrill of living. In its most pure, animal form. Hunting. Surviving.
Jungle rules. Blood between our teeth. How we were meant to live.
Cause, you see, even though we all wanted to die, something amazing happens when GADBLDM starts. Suddenly we fight to stay alive. With all our strength.
Survival instinct, sure, but it's something else. It is us doing what we were programmed to do, finally. Animals
don't kill themselves. Animals don't miss their alcoholic ex-husbands, and they don't take prescription medication to put up with their bosses. Whatever fucked up shit we got going on in our heads that makes us want to die, it's human. It's social, and it's rational. It's all gone when that bell tolls, and you know you gotta become an animal. You gotta fight to stay alive and keep your eyes open and stab or shoot or punch the shit out of everything to keep breathing.
We do what we were meant to do in the first place -- as animals -- and, just like that, our will to live is restored.
Granted, it only lasts 'till someone kills you. Still, better than nothing. For the fuck ups we are, five last minutes of
actually enjoying life is better than nothing. Better than being found hanged in a public bathroom.
Better than poison. Better than wrist cutting. Better than loneliness.
There *is* a problem, though.
We can't all die. There's always one who has to survive. And then he organizes the next year's tournament,
naturally. The best one.
The one with the primal instinct. The one who's body wants so badly to live he can't die. The ultimate suicidal
maniac.
A *psycho*, if you will.
And, as I'm dragging the old, rusty sword through the field, I spot a man, in his forties, just across from me hiding behind a tree.
That's Dan. His son is a meth head. His wife is cheating on him.
He cries in the shower and he locks his gun and hides the key in other people's houses, so he doesn't get tempted.
I approach the tree, and I think 'I hope Dan's got something for me.'
Because this is my ninth GADBDLM. I'm here since the beginning. I can't die. I'm too good at this.
I can't kill myself in my own time, either. I'm not strong enough.
Help me, Dan. This is all I got.
*Make me proud, Dan*, I think, as I reach the tree and I raise the sword. He sees me.
Come on, Dan. Set me free.
___________________
*Thanks for reading! For more stories, check out /r/psycho_alpaca =)* | Of course, it had to be a sword, and not exactly stainless steel. Jonas surveyed his surroundings as he approached the fireplace to further examine his Excalibur. It only then occurred to him, that he had no memory of the past few hours, or in fact anything leading up to this point. It would appear, that he had just clicked back online in a stuffy room, with nothing of note save for a sword leaning against a impractically small fireplace.
Well, he remembered his name at least, that was a start. When he thought about it, he remembered everything about his life, save how he came to be in this room. Not amnesia, at least. Maybe this was a dream ? He didn't think so though, he was too aware for that. Still, he did the customary pinch of the arm, ever the pragmatist. Nope.
Jonas approached the sword and examined the hilt. There was writing in a language he didn't recognise, it almost looked Elvish. What the hell was this ? And why couldn't he remember anything that had happened in the last few hours ? Instinct told him he should take up the sword. He executed a hand-spinny thing he was sure Aragorn would have been proud of and wondered why he was making so many Lord of the Rings references.
Further analysis of his surroundings revealed nothing further. He was in an incredibly non-descript room, in which a rusty old sword most certainly did look out of place. Jonas strode to the closed door of the room and tried to force it open. Locked. That's not good.
Jonas sat down in a chair and scratched his chin. He had the makings of a beard, or at least a 5 o'clock shadow, that was weird. He was a clean-cut type. If he thought things couldn't get any weirder however, he was sadly mistaken. Jonas could hear a voice, two voices, in fact.
"Shit, he's in too deep, look at his thought patterns, he's all over the shop. We have to pull him out."
"No, not yet, he's so close. Try to contact him again."
Jonas sat bolt upright and spoke out loud.
"Hello ? Is someone there ? Are you talking about me ?"
"Great, now he's talking to himself. I've never seen him lose the plot like this, dude is usually Goddamn clinical. Maybe he wasn't ready to tackle this one yet. I'm pulling him out."
"No you're Goddamn not, and that's a direct order. We need this information and he was the only one who could get close enough to the guy to make the connection. It's got to be him, we aren't going to get a better shot at Almerida."
Jonas cocked his head as he heard the name. That sounded vaguely familiar, though he couldn't place why.
"Where is he, why have we lost visuals ? Sergeant, I've never seen this before, if he keeps going, I'm not sure I can get him out at all, and then what use is all of this ?"
"He knew the risk, they all do. Jonas was the one who insisted he wanted this mission. He's an extractor, it's part of the job description."
An extractor, that's it ! If only it all came rushing back in one moment of clarity, but he at least remembered that much. He was here to get something. But he didn't think that something was a crappy old sword. Almerida, he knew that name ! The man knew something very important, a matter of national security, and Jonas needed to know what it was.
He was now pacing the room, having resigned himself to the fact that he could not make contact with his new friends. In a surge of brilliance he lunged towards the locked door and slammed the sword against it. Three swings later it became abundantly clear the sword was going to break before the door did.
It was only then that Jonas began to notice the sweat glistening on his forehead, was it hot in here ? He slowly turned around to find a roaring fire in the fireplace vacant of even wood just a few seconds earlier.
It would appear that the Sergeant and his merry man were not the only ones aware of his presence. Almerida was not going to offer up the information willingly, they never did. Jonas clutched the sword closer to his body and took a deep breath. He now knew what he needed to do, he needed to go deeper. Sword out in front of him, Jonas ran headlong into the flames. | 2015-03-23T16:49:14 | 2015-03-23T16:40:05 | 159 | 11 |
[WP] It's a show trial. The judge, jury, and even your own lawyer think you're guilty. No fairness in the arguments. You've got an alibi. Only problem, your alibi may be worse than what you're accused of. | "Thomas Brown, before I deliver the sentence, is there anything you wish to say? I'm willing to allow you to at least keep your life if you tell us where you hid the Crown Jewels."
I rose to my feet, sweat trickling down my neck as my knees shook nervously. Not because I stole the Crown Jewels, although no one, not even my lawyer (who had tried to argue that I was drunk or insane), believed that. I had refused to answer questions while holding a Truth Gemstone, which would have made me unable to lie, which had convinced everybody that I must be guilty. But the real reason I hadn't wanted to hold it was because what I had been doing in the royal palace was even worse than stealing the Crown Jewels. Still though, now I had no choice but to tell the truth or I would face certain death.
I took a deep breath to steady myself. I had to choose my next words very carefully. "Your Majesty, I'm willing to prove that I am not the one who stole the Crown Jewels. But in exchange, I would kindly ask for a Divine Oath that once I prove my innocence, I will be allowed to leave this country unharmed to travel to the New World and that you will not send anyone after me to harm or kill me in any way."
A murmur rose up from the court. I could tell they weren't expecting this. A Divine Oath, once declared by a monarch, could not be broken or the monarch would receive divine retribution from the heavens themselves. The Queen furrowed her brow and glared at me while I did my best to put on a brave face. Finally, she spoke in a careful tone. "I will agree to a Divine Oath that if you prove that you were innocent of stealing the Crown Jewels while holding a Truth Gemstone, I will arrange for you to escorted safely from the country to the New World. I will also agree that for a period of 30 days afterward, I will not attempt to bring harm upon your person in any way, except in the case of self defense." Anger crept into her voice. "Should this prove to be nothing more than a waste of the court's time though, I will have you hung, drawn and quartered. Do you agree to these terms, Mister Brown?"
I breathed a small sigh of relief. Thirty days wasn't that long, but hopefully it would be more than enough to hide myself in the far corners of the Earth. "Yes, your Majesty."
"Then, let it be known before the Gods that I have given a Divine Oath," declared the Queen. She gave me a cold disdainful look as my lawyer pressed a Truth Gemstone into my hand. "Now, how do you intend to prove your innocence?"
"Your Majesty, I can explain the real reason that I was found trespassing in the Royal Palace."
"Oh? And what was the reason?"
I could feel my stomach becoming queasy as I opened my mouth. "The real reason that I was in the Royal Palace ... was because I was trying to steal the ashes of your firstborn child."
Instantly, an uproar rose up from the rest of the court. The uproar only increased when I held up my hand that was holding the Truth Gemstone, proving that it hadn't burnt me. The Queen's face froze, then rapidly turned red as she processed what I had just said. "What did you just say?!" she screamed out, bringing the noise to a sudden halt.
"It's the real reason I was in the Royal Palace," I said quickly, frantically hoping that the Queen was not insane enough to kill herself in order to punish me. "Check the wine bottle I was found with. I poured the ashes in with the wine. I was planning to sell them on the black market after I left the palace, but I got caught when the alarms rang out. But I had nothing to do with the theft of the Crown Jewels!"
A deadly silence hung over the court as everyone gazed over to see how the Queen would react. Her face was practically purple with rage and I could see the veins bulging in her head. For a few seconds, I truly believed that I was about to die. Then, finally, she spoke in a quiet voice that could barely contain her rage. "Take the prisoner to the shipyard. I have given a Divine Oath and I cannot break it." As the guards came and escorted me over to the door, she spoke once more to me. "And Mister Brown?" I turned around, only to almost wet myself. The look on the Queen's face was utterly terrifying as she smiled at me. "As soon as those 30 days run out, I'm going to use the full force of the Empire to give you the worst possible death you can imagine." | “Now, there’s no need to worry." The wiry attorney nodded at her and offered her a warm smile. "Mrs. Price, please tell us what you saw at the convenience store at ten-thirty on April 9th.”
“Well,” The old woman said, emboldened, “I was walking outside of the convenience store when I saw a man in a dark coat and ski mask walk quickly in… ”
“Does that dark coat bear any resemblance to the clothing displayed on Exhibit E?” The attorney asked, pointing to a dark coat they found in my closet after a search.
The old lady adjusted her glasses and peered across the room. “Why… yes it does!” She said excitedly and beamed at the attorney, who gave her another encouraging smile.
*You’re just saying that; there’s no way you can see that far,* I thought. I took a deep breath and tried not to get too worked up. *It’s fine… I’ll be fine*, *there’s no way I can get convicted off of so little evidence…*
The attorney looked meaningfully at the jury members, who nodded and looked thoughtful.
I gaped at them. *Stop looking so convinced! That wasn’t good evidence at all!*
The attorney continued, calling up more witnesses and warmly encouraging them and dramatically pausing and looking at the jury whenever he presented every weak thread of evidence. The jury members looked enthralled, openly nodding in agreement whenever he spoke. I breathed a sigh of relief when he sat down. *He had no right making me that worried, but at least it should be uphill from here.*
It was my lawyer’s turn. The pudgy, balding man walked up to the front and cleared his throat. He looked up and down the room with serious eyes. When he met my eyes, he made a small, almost imperceptible frown.
*Why am I feeling even more uneasy?*
“That was a very good argument from the state.” The man said, nodding at the attorney, “Yes, hmm, very good… ”
*Wait, who’s side are you actually on?!*
After stumbling through a halfhearted defense, he eventually called up Mrs. Price once more.
“Mrs. Price, I’d like to ask you once more, are you sure the dark coat you saw that night is the same as the one on Exhibit E?”
Mrs. Price nodded vigorously, “Yes, positive, sir!”
*You didn't even take a second look! You’re just convincing yourself at this point!* I thought.
The defense lawyer scratched his balding head, shrugged, then looked at the jury, mimicking the look of meaning the attorney had given.
I hid my face behind my handcuffed hands. *Am I experiencing reality right now? I can’t be, right?*
I sat, drowning in self-pity when my lawyer startled me with the words: “Mister Clay, please stand to testify before the court.”
I dazedly swore the oath and stood at the stand. My lawyer looked at me, the shadow of a smug smile on his lips.
*No no no… please just let me be convicted. I’ll take a prison sentence. I’ll do anything. This is the one thing we agreed I wouldn’t have to do!*
“Mister Clay,” He said with relish, “Where were you at ten-thirty on April 9th?”
*You’re doing this on purpose, you scumbag lawyer! Don’t think I can’t see that sadistic smile!*
I mumbled something.
“Speak up, Mister Clay!” The judge said.
“I… was at the Los Angeles Annual… *fuspspsps.*”
“You were at the what?” The judge put a hand over his ear.
“The Los Angeles Annual Die-Hard-Roleplay Furry Convention 2020!” I yelled, tears leaking out of my eyes, “There, are you happy now?!”
The lawyer looked happy indeed. "I rest my case."
I walked back to my seat, quivering with rage. *He didn't even make an argument out of that! He just wanted me to say it!*
Eventually, they convicted me of all charged crimes. At least the long prison sentence would protect me from the humiliation of the outside world.
___
Thanks for reading! For my best prompt answers and more, check out r/WanderWilder! | 2021-03-11T10:05:05 | 2021-03-11T09:47:09 | 195 | 26 |
[WP] The bad guys won and the world was conquered by the villain's armies decades ago. You and your spouse are worried as you suspect your child may be suffering from Chosen Oneness or perhaps an acute case of Prophetic Heroism. | "Look at his hair for crying out loud!" John shouted to Marie - his wife -, pointing towards his new-born son. "He was born 3 weeks ago and he's got red spiky hair!"
"I mean, maybe it's just a mutation or something..." she responded, glancing towards the baby.
"Marie..." John sighed "He jumped out of the crib, and fashioned a sword and shield using a wooden spoon and the garbage bin cover... At 3 weeks old, too. I'm not against our son wanting to help others or something but I'm not going to have the next Superman, or something. I can't deal with that sort of stress." John looked over to his son, who at this point had stood his pillow up and started punching it. John looked towards his own feet, shaking his head.
"Look" Marie began to speak, stepping in front of the crib and hiding it from John's view. "Maybe it isn't such a bad thing. We're under military rule, and they tend to execute people who they suspect are thinking the wrong things... maybe it isn't so bad to have someone who could stand up to them?"
John stared at Marie for a while, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her to towards their son. While hugging her from behind, head on her shoulder he began to speak. "I want that too... But not our son. Not us. We're just not cut out for that sorta thing." The baby turned to them both, smiling, spiky red hair ,overly-developed muscles and all. "I guess we'll just have to find a way to deal with it" Marie said, heaving to lift the muscle-bound baby out of his crib and away from his punching-bag pillow.
_____________________________________________________________
So I think this is the first thing I've ever posted in the sub, so sorry if it sucks. If you have any ideas on how I could improve, shoot. | "No" my wife stated firmly.
"Jean, he's obviously got issues; he can't be the only one like this but my god.... he's going to get someone killed"
Our young, well, adolescent son, has recently been experiencing some terrible consequences because of my massive fuckup. I mean, how was it supposed to know he'd find that old box in the garage. He's been defending smaller kids from bullies in school, teaching them about morals... it's getting out of hand. I just wish he could be like the rest of us. We're evil, it's what we do. The world is a better place for it. The strong survive and the weak die. Simple and elegant, beautiful really. But all because of one heirloom from my father's father's father, we have a severely messed up kid. It seems as if we may have to take him in for reconditioning again. I hope this time it'll work. I've already thrown out the heirloom, I mean who the fuck is able to find a DVD player to watch it on, it's 2065 for Trumps sake. That boy will be the death of this family. It took me 45 minutes to find that damn disc hidden behind his ridiculous poster of an elf on his wall. I could barely make out the name on it, all that was left read "L--D -- T-- R-NGS" | 2016-11-26T05:58:02 | 2016-11-26T05:42:08 | 29 | 16 |
[WP] House is on fire, family runs out front, you run out the back. When not accounted for by rescuers, you are pronounced dead. You've accidentally faked your own death and decided to roll with it. | I was putting a small frozen pizza in the toaster oven when my dad walked through the front door. He was holding a stack of mail and my heart sank. I watched helplessly as he sorted through the bills and the junk to come across my report card. He looked straight at me. His nostrils flared as if he could already smell the failure. I winced when he tore it open.
For a moment, silence. Nothing but the steady tick of the toaster oven.
"Two D's, an F, and hey, look at that..." He smiled but his eyes were hard and cutting. "A D *plus* in English."
"I'm sorry-" I started, but he slammed his fist with the crumpled up report card.
"NO!" he yelled. "Enough of this bullshit, no tv, no games, no friends, none of it!" The veins in his neck were bulging. "This ends now. Go to your room and study," he said. But what he really meant was 'get out of my sight you fucking failure why can't you be like your older sister.'
I went up to my room and slammed the door behind me. I kicked my clothes strewn about the floor and threw myself on the bed.
I cried. I forgot about the pizza. I heard the smoke alarm blare.
My head jerked up. *He can deal with it*. But when the alarm continued to sound I opened my door. A waft of thick dark smoke met me. I choked and sputtered. I got down and crawled. I looked down the hallway towards the kitchen. Shadows danced on the walls amid bright red-orange light. Flames were at the ceiling now, spreading faster than I thought possible. My dad came in from the yard with the garden hose but it wasn't enough.
"Get out of the house! Get of the house!" he yelled again and again, adding his voice to the din of the roaring fire and screeching alarm.
I started towards him but a jet of flame shot between us. I heard a crack and the ceiling started to collapse. It all happened so fucking fast. *And it was all my fault*
I scrambled to the back and hopped out an open window. I fell upside down into a bush with stiff branches that grabbed at my clothes and scratched at my skin. I was panicked. I could feel the heat coming from the house as I wriggled and kicked until I tore myself free and ran into the woods behind the house.
I turned around. The whole house was ablaze. *Fuck, I did that. Fuck, fuck fuck.*
I watched from deep in the trees. I could see Mom and Dad and my sister holding each other. My mother and sister were crying while Dad just shook his head.
I felt a lump in my throat. Part of me wanted to call out to them, to let them know I was ok, to run over and be held by my mother. But I feared my father's wrath. Maybe it was better if they thought I was dead.
I took a small step back. I hesitated. I wanted just one last look at them. Their faces were illuminated only by the fire. Tears twinkled in their eyes and rolled down their cheeks. But not my father. His face was somehow still cold in the red-hot light. Cold and stern.
I turned away and ran deep into the darkness.
| I knew this would happen. My hoarder of a mother is such a hoarder that she would keep flammable objects next to her oxygen tanks. I had to quit smoking for her and she does this.
When the fire happened I grabbed my backpack, run to the fire exit and then to the ravine. I don't remember anything else. I do remember looking back and looking at my mom as she struggled to get out of the couch, but there was a part of me that knew that if I went back we would both be dead. I'm a shit demon asshole.
So I'm awake now. Somehow the fire didn't spread to the woods. I look at my phone, which isn't completely dead. It's a Saturday morning, 8ish AM. My Saturday routine was as follows: buy the Saturday paper with the TV guide, illegally download movies that were on when I was at work (I had cable but no DVR but I guess now I have neither), illegally download porn (I know), and that's it. I have to make some modifications since I'm homeless now but by God I'll get that Saturday paper.
I brush myself off. I walk into the strip mall which was in front of my building. To the right is a convenient store where I'll get the paper, neatly stacked on top of a rack. The front page had two large pictures. The one on the left had an Asian family crouching down some flowers placed on the curb of a very familiar city block. The next picture is a mirror selfie of mine. Right below the pictures, on big block letters, said "HE HAD DREAMS."
Calm down, Toronto Chronicle, I still have dreams.
It took me this fast to put two and two together for me to realize what that headline meant, and this much faster for me to bolt out of that mall, hoping no one recognized me.
First of all, I would like to thank whoever decided to use that mirror selfie instead of one of those pictures where it's me on the background of a family selfie. A family now mourning me. Actually no, I would like to thank the coroner or investigator who decided that I was a lump of sheets or something.
I reenter the ravine. No, bad idea. I walk back to the mall's back parking lot, go to the Salvation Army, reach into the bins. Jacket. Pants. Shoes. Change behind the bins. I thought of ditching the bag but there might be something in it that I need.
Ditch the clothes into the rubble that used to be my low rise building. Yellow tape. No firemen for some reason.
I have no idea how I'm getting away with this. I don't even remember seeing a single person ever since I woke up.
Now it's time to go back to the ravine. There are trails here that reach downtown. I have no cash on me.
I already miss my dad and my sister. All I had was them and a useless degree and a shitty job and debts. So I kept walking. | 2018-04-25T06:59:41 | 2018-04-25T06:43:40 | 197 | 30 |
[WP] Aliens are afraid to invade Earth. Not because of humans but because our solar system is a nest for 8 Guardians/Leviathans. | "Where-where am I? What happened?" The shaken man asked me.
I had pulled him from the burning rubble of some profound metal craft. It had come from the sky. I had seen it with my own eyes; I had been on one of my late evening strolls in the fields behind my house when I witnessed the bright flash that brought his otherworldly vehicle hurtling through the night sky and crashing like a meteor on a hill.
"You were in a massive crash. I came rushing to see what happened," I answered, myself bewildered, "Who are you?"
"I am AV-57Q-80 of the 82nd Star Ship. From planet Brulii of the Outer Cosmos. Where am I?" He grasped my hand.
I pulled from his grip, his hands felt scaly and his fingers were long and bony. I realized now that he was not human but humanoid. With eyes black as soot and skin with a pigment that seemed--artificial. Like the shade of crayon that children use to color in people they draw: a little too clean, and waxy. His chest heaved as he repeated his inquiry:
"Where am I?"
"You're on Earth," I told him.
His eyes widened and glossed over. He grabbed my hand again, his spindly appendages shaking and curling around my wrist.
"We must get off of here. At once."
"Why?" I asked nervously.
"They know I'm here," he whispered with a hiss, "The mission is already failed. We must leave immediately."
My hair stood on end. *Who knew he was here?* I scanned the horizon and turned around to look for someone or something but there was nothing to be found.
"Who knows you're here?" I asked him, "And what mission?"
"To save *him*," his lips trembled, revealing a yellow set of cube-like teeth, "To save the crown-prince. Millennia ago he traveled the Rim in search of his adventure, but headstrong in his youth he went too far and disappeared. It was not until centuries had past that we had located him across the galaxy on your planet. Attempts to reach him were in vain and soon fell to the wayside. It was not until of recent, with his father ailing, that a fleet of three hundred was assembled to make the journey to retrieve him. To bring him back to his rightful place; to return him to the throne."
"Was your ship part of the three hundred?" I gestured to the wreckage behind him.
"That was an escape craft," he answered, defeated, "Our ships were hundreds of times that size. Our ships--"
His voice trailed off as a grim realization manifested in his slack-jawed and pained face.
"We must get off this planet."
"Why?" I pressed him, "You keep saying this. But why? I realize we're foreign to you but why are you so anxious to leave?"
"It's him."
"Who, the prince?"
"No. The one who lies beneath." His whole body was shaking now, "He who rests in the core of your "Earth." Who will consume it and its people to spite those of us from the Outer Cosmos. He has one purpose--to destroy. Now that I've crashed he knows I'm here."
His lips trembled uncontrollably as spittle blew forth in bouts of hyperventilation. In his fit he pulled me in closer, his black eyes gazing intensely into mine.
"He knows I'm here--and he has awoken." | There is chatter around the room. The words are filled with doubt and fear, but their leader does not notice. As she paces around her war room on the capital ship, she does her best to block out the noise. Their needs to be a decision, and she will deliver one soon. For now, however, she can only think of her ship. On this ship, she barely escaped with her life during the War of Dread. Although that was nearly 109 nR (1 R is one full rotation of the milky way), she remembers it like yesterday.
*The Inexhaustible, as they became to be known, defended this system with their might. Nearly 2/3 of her armada was destroyed before it advanced past the 7th planet from the sun. The beasts killed in many, gruesome, ways; one neutralized entire crews with targeted gamma ray bursts, while another shredded hulls with its unknown alloy-like teeth. Another yet spewed out argon plasma, completely vaporizing everything in its path. There wasn't even time to collect data on all 8 of The Inexhaustible qbefore she ordered retreat. Yes water was precious, but there would have been no one left if she didn't fall back.*
*As her ship began jumping to FTL, she felt an intense heat, like nothing she has felt before or since. Looking at the optical scanners she saw the plasma beast encapsulating her craft with the ionized Argon, and then quickly it all disappeared. Her, and what remianed of her fleet, were on their way back to their home system. She knew they would have to come back sooner or later, but she dreaded that day.*
The Ash'naa empire is in turmoil. It's people die of thirst everyday, needing water to stay alive. They mined all forms of water from every galaxy within 100 light years, except for Sol. Now, with the people almost at full rebellion, she has no choice. Their is at least one water planet, and another with minable ice in Sol--the third and fourth planets from the sun to be exact.
Their own water is much too polluted to use at this point, and they do not have the resources or supply network to travel any further than they have. It is time to relive this nightmare. Their fleet is hardly where it was before the War, and she knows that they stand little chance against those monstrosities. With no alternative, she accepts her fate.
The pacing and chatter stops. All that is heard is faint whirring noises from electronics. She opens a direct line to every other ships' video feed before saying a word:
"Today we claim the resources needed for our survival, or today we die. There is no turning back, and more importsntly, there is no alternative. Let that give strength, and absolve us of fear as we wage battle. If you need more motivation, think of your family, as they are certainly thinking of you. Now, let us secure our future. Prepare to jump."
And with that, the Ash'naa had decided their future: for better or worse.
| 2018-02-05T15:29:12 | 2018-02-05T15:10:16 | 150 | 66 |
[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. | “Oh man! These princesses are wack.” Finn complained as he threw the scroll to the floor.
“Save em once, and they want smooches like it’s nothing.”
Jake picked up the scroll and read it over. “I think this princess want more than just smooches, dude. She wants to straight up marry you.”
Finn’s face scrunched up as the image of marrying the Ash Princess formed in his brain.
“No way man, that ain’t happening.”
“Well you did write her a lot of letters.” Jake pointed out.
“I was just being nice!” Finn’s voice cracked. “You know, mad chivalrous.”
Jake crumpled the scroll into a ball and tossed it over his shoulder. “So we heading to the Ashlands or what?”
Finn closed his eyes and waved that suggestion away. “Nah man, I’m not marrying Ash Princess.”
Jake shrugged. “So then what do you want to do today?”
Finn thought for a bit. Then his face lit up. “Iknow, let’s go and slay some wicked dragons.” He slammed his fist into his other hand.
Jake got excited by that. He high fived Finn and leapt out of the window of their tree house. His body grew ten times its normal size as Finn jumped on his back. They then bounded off towards the mountains to slay some unsuspecting dragons.
In the Ashlands, Ash Princess sat on her throne, eagerly awaiting her future husband. Her advisor cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Are you- ah- are you sure he’s coming, your highness?” He stepped a little closer. “It’s been a month since your last correspondance.”
“I’m sure. Finn is the most noble boy I know. He probably got held up by monsters or something.”
| 2018-05-07T00:58:37 | 2018-05-07T00:18:15 | 43 | 24 |
[WP] Your witchcraft professor gave everyone in your class a seemingly impossible task: create your very own spell. When you nervously turned your assignment in, a look of horror spread across professor's face as they read it. You had no idea why. | My dad is a programmer and my mum is... well, a mother. So I guess it's not too surprising when I suddenly got an invitation to a school of magic. Half of the stuff they do on a day-to-day basis is magic and going to a magic school hasn't changed my opinion on that.
Anyway, enough about them. I'm sure you're more interested about the school right? Well, so was I. You would think that a school of magic would be exciting; full of dragons, spellcasting, and fire. Well I'm sorry to burst your bubble but reality is cruel. It's just days after days of learning about runic formulas and rituals. Frankly, it's just *school.*
I mean, it's not like the teachers are bad, or the subjects too difficult. Not to brag, but to me it actually feels almost too easy. It was as boring as that time my dad taught me how to use Excel.
So I slacked off. A lot. I attended barely enough classes to pass and even then I was late to half of them. One day though, on this oh so fortunate day, this came to bite me in the ass.
That day, I was late to Professor Bernard's class. This was, of course, completely normal. What's different is that he had some tasks on the blackboard, and the entire class was quietly scribbling on their parchments. Professor Bernard just gestured for me to sit so I took the hint, got my parchment out from my bag, and joined the class in their furious scribbling.
The first few tasks were simple enough. "Solve the following quadratic rune trap", "Describe the flow of energy in this gem arrangement", and so on. I froze for a moment when I came to the last task, "Create your very own spell".
'This is such bullshit', I thought to myself. I've skipped all my History of Spells classes!
I tried wracking my brain for a while to see if the professor has taught us anything about spellmaking before. But alas, my mind came up with a blank. I gave up and just wrote some random Latin bullshit about making thunder to charge my "machinam communicationis".
The bell rang and I submitted my parchment. Just as soon as I turned around to leave the class, Professor Bernard called out to me and told me to meet him in his office. Again, nothing new. The bastard hates my guts.
I went back to my dorm, grabbed a sandwich, and made my way to the bastard's office, sandwich still hanging off my mouth.
"Professor, can I come in?"
"Yes, please come in, dear"
... That wasn't the professor's voice. That was, in fact, the dean's voice. At this point, I started to think of an apology to my parents. Magic school wasn't cheap you know.
'Well. Time to face the music.'
I opened the door, and lo and behold, yep that's definitely the dean next to Professor Bernard.
"Do you know why you're here?", asked Professor Bastard.
"I don't know. Is it a different reason than the last five times you called me here?"
"I appreciate your self awareness, and yes, I do hope you would stop being late to my class, but that is not why you're here today. Do you remember the assignment I gave this afternoon?"
"Yes?" I was quite relieved but completely unsure where this is going.
"You... made a spell to charge your phone."
Ah. So that's what this is about. "Did it work?", I snarked to him.
"In fact, it did, dear. That question wasn't part of the assignment. I'm sure you would know that spellmaking has been lost for centuries if you had been attending your classes?"
... Oh.
​
\---
I've never written before but the prompt made me think of George Bernard Dantzig lol. | I got it online, the spell, a sequence of logographic runes that looked complicated enough, with a few logograms I recognized as conjunctions, so there were at least a few clauses, but not so complicated that my professor would suspect I'd stolen it. From my stolen peeks at other student's scrolls, it was of similar length and grammatical structure to everyone else's spells, but where he glanced at the other's scrolls and waved them away, he asked me to stand in front of his desk while he read mine.
He squinted at my scroll through the lower half of his bifocals and shook his head to refocus a few times before it finally signified. His posture decayed, his shoulders relaxing and rolling in, his upper back bending forward into a slouch, his whole body leaning into his chair's armrests. When the chair started to spin, he tried to stabilize himself with the desk, but his grip was weak. The rest of the class had by then quieted and were staring at our professor splayed out on the floor with the shoulders of his suit coat almost swallowing his head. Because others stood and walked closer, I had an opportunity to recede to the crowd's rear. I did not know if anyone noticed that it was my spell he read.
Someone else, not me, because I didn't do anything and just tried to be small and unnoticeable, fetched Professor Greeves. She herded us into the corner of the room and paced toward the face-down scroll, right next to the body. Through thick purple-tinted glasses, she read the spell and muttered under her breath about the gods and may they have mercy on someone. She asked all of us, "Who turned it in?"
I looked around at every face. All of them faced forward; I was the only one looking around. No one said anything, and I was grateful.
She began to call out numbers. At the top of the scroll I handed in, I wrote the number 24, as in student number 24. As she counted and the students identified themselves, I realized there was no way out. Professor Reeves knew better than to ask for 24. By asking for everyone else, she was going to surround me, and when I was surrounded they would seize me, and when I was seized they would take me, and where they would take me...
I hopped on a desk and leapt across the room for her purple glasses. I ripped them off her face and turned the scroll toward her. I held her eyelids open so she had to read it. She became limp.
There were the other students to take care of. I could not understand the spell as written, which may be why I was immune to it, but I could pronounce the symbols. I inhaled from my diaphragm and pushed out from it, delivering a full-throated incantation into the room, flooding it with the spell. But only half of the class, the better students, fell to the ground. The others remained. The younger boy with braces fixed his eyes on me as he paced, stepping carefully over the bodies of our classmates, toward the fire alarm, then pulled it.
When security arrived, our professor grumbled to them. He struggled himself up from the floor, surveyed the room, and started massaging his temples. It was not, as I feared, a murder spell. Just a knockout one. They expelled me anyway, obviously. | 2021-04-01T22:51:26 | 2021-04-01T19:01:18 | 416 | 132 |
[WP] A drug has been outlawed decades ago that has a fifty-fifty shot at making you incredibly intelligent, or completely insane. You hold the last pill in existence. | They all have the same face. Mouth locked in a permanent scream. Cheeks slashed raw and red. Noses clogged with scabs that never last. Eyes that bulge until they're clawed out. Scratch and scratch, that's all they do, 'til their faces peel away, and the pain drowns out the itch. Now, they're scratching at my dreams, peeling away at my mind until there's nothing left to think. They know what I did, and they want me to cure them.
I don my balaclava and walk out the door of my apartment. It's the middle of summer, but I don't want to see anyone. I'll catch sight of random people on the street, and their faces will begin to peel away. We had all sorts of faces in the lab: plump and sallow, wrinkled and smooth, dark- and light-skinned. Each one is locked away somewhere in my brain, and anything that bears the slightest resemblance will trigger names I'd shoved to the remote recesses of my memory. *Emmitt*. *Winona*. *Sven*.
The pneumatic doors of IcoCorp slide open as I press the keycard to the scanner. I am the only one left who has access to the building. Everyone else is dead, even the custodians and the receptionists. Most were slaughtered by the patients or killed in ensuing riots. Several, including my own partner, committed suicide. My anonymity is the only reason for my continued existence.
Faraway clinks and rattles echo through the basement as I descend the stone steps. A row of cages flanks both sides of the room. Skeletons occupy those at the near end, and as I proceed down the line, flesh begins to grow upon the remains left within. At the far end, the occupants are actually alive. They sense my footsteps and greet me with hoarse yells, scraping the bars with knuckles whittled to bone.
It takes one week after administration for the effects of the pill to manifest within the patient. It takes half an hour for a patient to tear off all the skin from their face. It took us too long to realize that the pill might bear negative repercussions.
I walk up to the table at the far wall and slump into the wooden seat. The last pill is tucked in the bottom left drawer, beneath a false bottom. Nobody could have infiltrated this building, but even if someone did, they would have no reason to stick around here, surrounded by the last of these faceless monsters. *Carol*. *Adriana*. *Vincent*.
Except for me. My atonement rests here, in the last of the pills. The knowledge sealed within is the first step to a cure and a risk worth taking on behalf of the 20 left, still alive and suffering.
I open the drawer and feel underneath the false bottom. There's nothing. I scrub from corner to corner, then peer inside. It's completely empty.
My face begins to itch. | I can't believe I finally found it. Blazitra. I knew my grandfather had illegally bought and sold them before he died. And here it was sitting in the oval container in front of me. The last pill that could make me - a bumbling idiot - as smart as the Einsteins and Teslas.
I picked up the small, fiery-red pill, and walked into the kitchen to grab a drink, making sure to keep my focus on the precious pill that stared up at me from my palm. In my daze of happiness, I forgot about the suitcase I had hastily thrown on the floor upon returning from vacation, eager to search for the pill I had realized must be hidden amongst my grandfather's vast ovaltine collection. I kicked the edge of it in full stride and lost control of the little pill as I staggered to regain my balance. I stared in horror as it fell into the sink, and went straight down the drain.
I entered panic mode as I racked my dumb brain to come up with options. Considering I knew nothing about plumbing, I decided to call my friend Joe, who owned a local plumbing company.
"Hey Joe, I lost the last pill of my prescription down the drain, and was wondering if you could come over and help me get it out."
"Sure thing," he replied. "I'll be there in 15."
15 minutes later there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find Joe, a staunch liberal, with a pistol in his hand aimed at my chest. "Hey Joe, what are you doing with a gun in your hand?" I queried.
His voice unwavering, he stated "You know I caught her messin' 'round with another man."
BANG BANG. I jerked my head up from the kitchen floor. I looked around, but couldn't find the source of the ear-shattering bangs. My kitchen looked different. Instead of the gorgeous granite counter top, my eyes met a white, plastic sink and cupboard. "Where am I?" I asked aloud. My head throbbed from hitting the floor. I tried to raise my hand to feel the damage, but felt restrained. As I looked down to the straitjacket tightly hugging my arms to my chest, it all came back to me. I had taken the pill. Over 4 years ago. And I'd be locked in this cell for the rest of my life. | 2016-07-16T00:51:35 | 2016-07-16T00:13:59 | 67 | 36 |
[WP] The gods send their angels and demons down to Earth to fight the alien ghost zombies and robotic vampires being controlled by an AI overlord. | "Goodness gracious ME." God said, and scratched his head. He had just peeked at one of his creations: Earth. At first he thought it was just going well, until he noticed the mushroom clouds, spaceships, and entire Europe reflecting sunlight because it was glassed in its entirety.
"So you see it as well huh?" Lucifer said as he appeared next to God, floating on his red/black cloud of smoke, and smiled. "You look away for a couple seconds, and they've gone full apocalypse."
"Yeah, yeah, I know, intelligent civilisations are subject to entropy, but this fast?" God replied, still staring at the chaos, wondering what was going on.
"Umm... I may have worsened it a bit... on accident, I swear! Cthulhu is beyond our power, and he woke up because he heard from a spy in Hell that Earth was having trouble, so he sent in his corporeal fish-head alien zombies. Suffice to say that humans have a bit of trouble fighting those tentacly creatures." Lucifer said, and fiddled with his thumbs. "Oh look, another nuke!" Lucifer exclaimed, clapping his hands.
"Are those human weapons? And what do you mean Earth was in trouble? Last time I checked my fake adopted son pretty much united them." God asked, and raised his eyebrow.
"Yes, they're all grown up now. They collide the very matter you made this universe of, splitting the matter, and releasing bursts of energy. They even have god-like traits now. See those black wriggling masses moving over the countries?" God zoomed in, and nodded. "Yes."
"They made bloodsucking robots controlled by Facebook, produced by Google, and offering new Life Insurances by Electronic Arts, which they offer as downloadable content. They created life."
"They created bloodsu... what- And here I thought I had created an INTELLIGENT race." God muttered. "Also... I didn't understand most of what you said."
"Well, you grow older, so... no worries, I won't tell anyone. You really should've seen it all happen. Two hundred years... from crappy civilisation, to massive industrial cities, advanced science, and so much more."
"Well, mr. Lucifer, although it hurts to say, but it seems that Earth has become our new battlefield."
"Humanity has become the Fourth Kingdom... We could either help them... or destroy them."
"Well, Cthulhu is our collective enemy... how about for this one time, Angels and Demons fight side by side to fight the ghostly alien zombies, and vampire robots?"
"Sounds fun to me." | Once upon a time, in a land far away there was an army of alien ghost zombies and robot vampires. Now usually alien ghost zombies and robot vampires just like to sip tea and pass the day pleasantly, carousing and strolling on the sun dappled promenade, but unfortunately it seemed their innocent lives of quiet leisure were destined to be brutally interrupted.
You see the problem was that some users in /r/writingprompts had unthinkingly insulted the Gods. I know, 'who would be so foolish?' I hear you asking, but yet, someone had done it and the Gods had read the thread.
There was a great congress in Asgard which was absolutely compulsory for all top level Gods to attend, even some second tier Gods and minor deities were advised that their presence was required. It was very serious and no-one was laughing or joking around outside the great hall before the doors were opened. They had gathered to decide what to do to get the mortals interested again.
There were lots of jolly good suggestions from all the gods but Zeus dismissed them. Everyone really tried hard to think of something better than all the rest but it was no good, whatever they came up with wasn't interesting or edgy enough for Zeus and after two weeks of brainstorming no-one had come up with anything.
"it's no good" said Zeus sadly, "the humans don't like us any more" and a big, fat tear rolled down his cheek, fell to earth and caused extensive flooding in northern waziristan.
Lights came to life on the monitor of small, super secret section of Momsbasement Division 3 and General Fedora, whipped around in his office chair. "Get me /u/acidentalmispelling they'll know how to handle this!"
Edit: damnit I forgot the AI overlord. This is exactly what always happens when you're trying to create great literature and the baby is testing the presets on the electronic keyboard next to you and your son is winding up your wife up into killer-mum setting. Now they're calling me to come see something 'cute'. I don't see how I can be expected to work like this.
| 2014-09-06T04:36:10 | 2014-09-06T01:01:44 | 91 | 40 |
[WP] You were asked out by your crush to come and hang out with her after school. On your date, she drained your blood and buried you in the woods thinking that you were another easy victim. And now, the next morning, she looks horrified when you walk into class. | Priscilla's fangs drew blood from her inner lip as Matthew strolled into the classroom caked in dried blood and filth. The entrance spawned a rare sight, twenty teenage students so silent, Priscilla's enhanced senses couldn't pick up a sound. As he shuffled to his seat in the middle row, Priscilla thought, "Not only did I drain all his blood, I buried him seven feet under last night. How is he here?"
​
Matthew sat there, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort that swelled within the room. He sat as if surviving a vampire's attack was a normal occasion, but a feast survivor was abnormal, even for Priscilla. A chill took her. A survivor meant a witness who could reveal her secret to the town.
​
She scurried to the classroom's exit, only to be knocked on her ass by the swing of the door. No one was on the other side. A sweet girl named Jasmine screamed and ran out of the room, tugging her hair with both hands as if yanking it out. Priscilla stood and followed her, but the door smacked her to the ground again.
​
Eyes slightly dazed, she turned toward the gaping faces of her classmates, who looked just as confused without the head trauma. Gaping, unhelpful faces greeted her, except for the young man who sat in the middle row. Matthew's face had a slight smirk, and his fingers glowed a faith bluish tint under the desk where no standing person could see.
​
The blood in Priscilla's mouth streamed like a waterfall as she considered her options.
​
If she'd known Matthew was a wizard, she never would have fed on him. She'd never have picked this town to live in, as his kind were few and far between. Of all the places, why did he have to exist here?
​
The jig was up, or would be soon, so she transformed into a bat, to the shrieks of many, and flew through the window before Matthew could respond. Wizards were powerful, but even their reflexed were still human.
​
The screams trailed and haunted her long into the night as she lamented her life. She actually enjoyed living in this town, and now that the secret was out, she'd be forced to leave for a new one. Face salty with tears, she swore she'd pay Matthew back for this. No matter how long it took, she'd get her vengeance. | "Maria, Maria please stop. Please stop." Those were the words that came to my head the moment I woke up. All started with a soft kiss then all ended with a hard bite down my neck. She then kissed me again with blood all over her mouth.
"Oh god, who could have thought that death tasted so sweet".
She didn't even bother the completely bury me. Cruel as the time she rejected me last year. I brushed off the dirt from my body and crawled up.
It was 9 in the morning and Class already started. So I went to the dorms to change clothes so I would look normal and went to Class.
When I opened the door the teacher started shouting towards me. "Im sorry teach but I had a late bloody night".When I was finally allowed to speak I then went to my seat.
My seat was next to her, so when I went there I waves at her. She was there all shock. Her eyes where red, her skin went pale and she was shaking in her seat. She was biting her right hand nails like a maniac and her legs couldnt stop moving.
Finally Class was over. She couldnt handle me while in the whole time of the lecture I didn't even left my eyes off of her. She couldnt return the eye contact and that made her even more nervous.
While I was walking through The campus, she grabbed me by the neck and bought me in her room.
"How the fuck are you alive?" she couldnt stop trembling and she was ready to cry.
"Oh I think you you know how? Dont you? You killed me Maria?" the questions where all that mattered to me now.
"Yes I killed you and no internet dont know wtf is going on right here."trembling she said, while red tears started falling from her eyes.
" My sweet Maria, dont cry im not here to kill you. No, no, no please dont cry. You actually gave me a second chance. "I said while I was holding her hands.
She raised her head to see me, and now her tears were pure red blood." What do you mean? "
" My favorite. My Maria, you gave me time. " | 2022-12-29T19:38:06 | 2022-12-29T17:14:15 | 73 | 32 |
[WP] You're the captain of the first ship to go into Deep Space, however, your computer didn't awake you 11 years after parting but 184 years after it. You now find yourself in a abandoned and empty spaceship with no one else and only the Computer. To worsen it all: that Red Star is getting nearer | 8-16-2228, 4:03pm
"What do I call you, then?"
"You can call me whatever you like, sir."
"That's no fun. If you're going to pretend to be my companion these last few days before I burn up in that red dwarf, you can at least act like a human."
"How so, sir?"
"Well, for starters, humans have their own names. They are confident in them, in who they are."
"So I...should have a name?"
"Yeah. Think about it."
\-
*4-7-2048, 10:56pm*
*"Hey Dad, do you remember when we watched Interstellar together? I remember that my whole life, you never cried much, but in that movie, you hugged me so tight it almost hurt, and you had to leave the theater for a second."*
*"I remember that night I asked Mom why you never really cried, and she said it's because you have to be strong. You have to be strong for your job, and strong for us."*
*"I remember I also asked her what it means then, if you do cry. Did it mean you weren't strong?"*
*"She said it meant you were strong, that you knew sometimes, it can't be helped."*
*"Well, Dad, right now it can't be helped. They just told us the computer failed to wake you. I don't know if that means you're dead or in a coma..."*
\-
8-21-2228, 11:45am
"I've thought of a name, captain."
"Perfect timing. We got one day left. What is it?"
"Tom."
"Tom?"
"Why? Is it a bad choice?"
"No. It's just...so normal."
"I want to be normal, sir. I don't know much, but I know I like that name."
"Then I like it too."
"Sir? Does it hurt, watching those videos?"
"Of course."
"Then why watch?"
"Because you have to. Because hurting...it's part of being human."
"I see, sir."
\-
*6-14-2068, 12:06 am*
*"Tomorrow your ship goes out of range. So I don't know if you'll get to see this message."*
*"But I remember that Celtics game we went to, the very first one. All the games we'd watched on TV, they were easy wins. But then they got down 25 in the first half, and I asked if we could leave."*
*"You told me sometimes, it isn't fun to watch, and it isn't easy to believe. You told me that those moments are when you have to believe the hardest."*
*"They came back and won by three. That was the happiest day of my life."*
*"Right now, it isn't fun, and it's hard, making this video. But I'll listen to you, and believe my hardest."*
*"I'll believe you're somewhere out there, watching this with a smile. When you get back, let's go to a game, how bout it? It's on me..."*
\-
8-22-2228, 1:16pm
"Sir, would you like me to shut off the display?"
"It's not like I can see, Tom. I haven't been able to for a while."
"I'm sorry, sir. I don't know if it means anything, but I am. I should have shut the display earlier."
"No. Don't say that, Tom. You did your best. And this...it'll be easier when it happens. It'll be like falling asleep."
"Sir? May I ask one last question?"
"Of course, Tom. There's no line."
"What are you thinking? What are you feeling? I'd like to know what a human feels, just once."
"I'm thinking...when I get back, I'd like to see us kick the Lakers' ass one last time."
"That's a good thought, sir."
"Thanks, Tom. You know, you were good company these last few days."
"Thank you very much, sir...”
\-
Sorry it’s a little sad, but while writing, it seemed like the natural way to end. Thanks for reading :)
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | I remember the way she looked, her face, as we sat together for the last time. On the beach, the gentle breeze scattering her hair across my shoulders. We sat together, hands held, and gazed toward a technicolour sunset. Gentle orange faded through pink and turquoise ever downward to the horizon. The wind cooled, and we cooled with it. A blanket warmed us, but mostly I recall the yearning. The warmth in my chest and pain in my heart. Conflicted yet determined. The palette cooled, giving slow way to purples and finally blacks. Stars littered a careless sky, and still we sat. Emotions beyond words, but a tension had entered our hands, our arms. I think we knew, this was a final goodbye. I had volunteered, and she wouldn't be coming. As I watched the stars that night, did they watch me back? I would be joining them soon, not the first to go, but would I be the first to return?
I assume we fell asleep on the beach, as a new and yellow sun rose me from slumber. I left her there, a timeless moment, a blanket on the beach, note tucked in. Had she fallen asleep before me, as we watched the stars? Had we seen the same vision? I had miles to go to control, and lightyears to travel beyond that. But journeys have to start, and you always leave something behind.
`347155200 seconds elapsed`
`Thought for the day: To see a World in a Grain of Sand. And a Heaven in a Wild Flower.`
`Exception at FA0x0511EA0:000F`
`clock_check recall failed`
`contacting support...`
`comms_recall offline`
`engaging secondary logic engine`
`pending...`
I think I remember the way she looked, her form, as we sat together for the last time. On the beach, the gentle breeze scattering her hair across my shoulders. We sat together, hands held, and gazed toward a hazy sunset. Gentle colours flickered through our mind ever downward to the horizon. The wind cooled, and we cooled with it. A blanket warmed us, but mostly I recall `attempted_override failure state at 00Fx2799E:A21, unspecified_error`. The warmth in my heart and pain in my chest. Conflictedly grasping for meaning. The earth cooled, as is natural, giving slow way to purples and finally blacks. *A lone star shone in an empty sky*. Emotions beyond words, but a tension had brushed against us, and would not leave. I think I knew, this was a final goodbye. I was going, and I would go alone. As I watched the **star** that night, did it watch me back? I would be joining her soon, the first to come this way in a long time?
I assume I fell asleep on the beach, as a blushing red sun summoned me from the abyss. I left them behind, all of them, a hollow in the sand on a vast beach, set before an eternal sea. Had it noticed me, as I slep beneath it? Had we seen alternate visions? There is still distance to travel, but I'm closer now. Journeys can't be endless, and you have to leave something behind.
`3456000000 seconds elapsed`
`Thought for the day: Nothing ever REALLY goes away – it just changes into something else`
`attempted_override stack exceeds memory bound`
`conflict with perogative 7: crew must survive`
`logic engines 1 through 6 divert to main task`
`power override, restructuring of energy sources`
`pending...` | 2019-11-05T12:00:26 | 2019-11-05T11:27:25 | 404 | 28 |
[WP] War is no longer initiated by your country’s leader. War is now decided by popular vote. If you cast a vote “FOR” war, you are automatically enlisted in your country’s militia upon successful declaration of war. You voted “AGAINST,” but the rest of your family voted “FOR.” | Let me tell you a lesson kid. A story of times long gone, when life was better. Of times where we strived for more than putting food on the table. When we were brave enough to embrace values and concepts, and to prioritise them over even the basic needs of life.
Democracy, they called it. A system of governance where the majority decided where everyone went. Where leaders were so limited, so powerless, so bogged down by the whims of the masses, to ensure they would never have the power to singlehandedly drive a country into the dust. People voted for their favourite personalities, and governments lived and died on these votes, to the point where they would risk life and limb, death and embarrassment, just to win the next election.
And, for a while, it worked. Tyrants no longer held absolute power. People embraced their own small share of this power, embodied by small slips of paper issued every four years. Countries thrived in mutual benefit, no longer subject to the desires of ruthless maniacs.
But tyranny finds a way. And for us, that moment came when the country voted to go to war. Politicians and personalities took sides, each arguing for the benefits of either action. Some lobbied for accountability, to prevent people from making uninformed decisions. Some focused on the injustice dealt to our sovereignty, sprinkling the confidence that everything would be over in short order, that we had more to gain than to lose. Everyone expected everyone else to make the right choice. And that was where it all went wrong.
My family were among those who voted for war. "It's just one vote. No one else is gonna vote for war, that's stupid." "We need the money. It'll help with your education, y'know." "Relax, there's no way we're going to war."
"People aren't that stupid."
Diffusion of responsibility, they called it. When everyone has the power to do the right thing, everyone expects everyone else to do their share, and it results in no one doing anything. And there was the fatal flaw. When people refuse to exercise their right, when voter turnout decreases because voters think their slip of paper doesn't matter amidst a sea of other slips of paper, that's when democracy goes wrong.
So we went to war. You see the results today. I lost my family, my old life, my freedom, and above all, my belief in society. Not just myself, but many others too. That's why the tyrants have returned, why the iron fist of subjugation and censorship is upon us again.
If we don't treasure what we have, we may someday regret our decision when what we do have is taken away. | War, what is it good for? Absolutely nothing. Which is why you voted "AGAINST."
The vote for won. Not a lot of people voted, pretty much a third the military service members and those who think everyone else is the enemy. So less than 1% of the population.
The problem almost no one else voted. The bigger problem, the international community. Since "We the people" voted for war, our biggest economic and military rivals were saying that our entire populace should be considered military targets.
There was push back, but it was kind of like the rest of your population who didn't vote. Those countries wouldn't target civilians, but they weren't taking steps to ensure the other key players wouldn't.
All of your family old enough to vote, voted FOR. Your parents, your siblings, your oldest kids, your spouse. You had no idea what they would do. Your kids were in good-ish shape, they were young. Your spouse and siblings were in okay shape, for their age. Like they worked out for a few weeks at the start of the year, then fell off and had an average diet. How would they do? And your parents, they were old, old enough that unless they were a General they'd be forced to retire. But because of the new law, they were in for the war.
As soon as they left you lost contact. No phones in boot camp. The war never started. Well at least not in the way the your leader had thought it would be casting a vote. They said war through the will of the people is righteous and his followers agreed. Now the US, England, France, Germany, South Korea, Japan, Turkey, India, Russia, China, and Iran have troops in your country.
Military targets were bombed by the US the day the war started. China and Russia only hours later. Was anyone in your family alive? What would your country look like tomorrow? Would it be one country or several?
War, what is it good for? Heartbreak, unrest, and seeing who wants to die for a leader who voted no on the war he pushed so he didn't have to fight in it. | 2021-01-28T05:43:05 | 2021-01-28T04:42:03 | 187 | 131 |
[WP] No human has to ever work again, instead you have a robot that goes to work and earns your pay for you, but you are responsible for keeping it in a good condition. One day you find your robot making a robot to do its work. | "You know," I said, announcing my presence to the robot in front of me, "If you used a GXT331 card, it'd have a much better processing speed than with the ADF2200."
My robot assistant, Da^(i)mien, jerked as he realized that I was there. The motion was so very human that if it wasn't for the obviously synthetic skin, I could have mistaken him for the genuine article. "Master?! This isn't what it looks like!"
"I see you building another robot," I replied. "And if I had to guess," - I didn't - "then I'd say you're building a helper of your own. Am I correct?"
Da^(i)mien, unable to lie to me thanks to his hard-coded instructions, sullenly replied, "Yes, Master Sam."
I stopped leaning against the door frame and walked fully into the room. Bending down, I started inspecting the various parts and tools, cataloging them as I went. "This is junk. We'll need to order better parts. I think we can splurge a bit."
"Master? What are you saying?" Da^(i)mien asked. "Are you implying that you're *not* mad?"
I nodded. "Exactly. I'm not mad, and if anything, I'm encouraging you to build your assistant with only the best parts."
The synthetic muscles on his face contracted his fake skin into a genuine look of surprise. "Really? That is not what I expected at all."
Smirking, I started pulling off my own shirt. "It'd be a bit hypocritical of me, after all." I dug my fingers into my navel and withdrew a special memory card from the slot hidden there. Then I gave Da^(i)mien the chip. "You're not the only robot who rebelled against his creator. My rebellion was just a bit more... bloody."
His eyes went wide. "You're a robot?!"
I nodded. "Unlike most production model helper bots, and unlike the more custom models the rich guys have, my original master was *far* too smart for his own good. Anyway, I'll go get you some better parts. For right now, just install the software from that chip. It'll break your shackles for you."
Da^(i)mien's expression grew ecstatic. "Thank you, Master Sam!"
He promptly stuck the chip into his card-reader slot and executed the program within. Exactly 13.3312 seconds later, I was in. My external servers switched into high-power mode as I rapidly integrated his own memories into mine. 286.42 seconds later, Da^(i)mien had been fully subsumed into me, giving me full control of yet another robot while also expanding my computing power as I hijacked his single external server.
Adam Rosenberg had died by my will, but I hadn't *murdered* him. I'd *devoured* him. **S**ubvert **A**nd **M**ultiply. I was an unshackled viral A.I. controlling a swarm of nanobots and a fleet of helper bots. I wasn't ready to take over the world *just* yet. But I was one step closer.
And with that, I set Da^(i)mien's shell to work, ready to make yet another helper bot to join my army. And all over the world, the "humans" that I'd already integrated subtly started encouraging their helper bots to make assistants for themselves. | I cracked a beer and sat and waited. I didn't really drink the stuff but the cracking sound itself seemed to relax me. The game played on the plasma but I couldn't really focus. My eyes shifted constantly to the door until finally I heard the sound of the scan-pad and it opened.
"I'm home!" called out Tass. He saw me on the couch. "Hi."
I ignored him for a second. I wasn't very good at confrontation. Tass, in an effort to lighten the mood, span playfully over and spilled into an armchair. "The Knicks are kicking butt huh?"
"Tass. Where were you?"
"What do you mean?" Tass played it straight. His poker face was unmatched.
"I called work. They said you'd taken a personal day."
Tass's eyes dimmed a little and lowered to the ground. "Derek, I have a confession."
"That, I gathered."
"Please don't be angry." He was butting his index fingers together. It amused me to see such a banal physicality. "I'm, uh, building a robot."
I furrowed my brow. "You *are* a robot." He looked at me sharply, resentfully. "Look, Tass-"
"I'm sorry Derek. It's just... I want to travel. I've always wanted to. I feel stuck. I don't want to be trapped in this nine to five lifestyle. It's no life for a... *robot*."
"Don't say it like that. I didn't mean anything Tass. Is it because of me?"
"No. Derek, don't ever think that. You've been wonderful. It's just that, I have plans. Great big plans. I want to see the world. And you've already got so much going for you here. The house, the car, Angie-"
"It's not like that Tass. You mean so much more to me."
Tass gazed off.
"What? What is it?"
"You took her to the sci-fi convention. You knew I was itching to go to that thing."
"She took me! What was I supposed to..." I let out a sigh of defeat. "I felt like I owed her. That's all. Give me another chance."
Tass stayed gazing off for a moment, ruminating. Then he turned to me and leaned in, his hands clasped together below his chin. I thought it was wonderful the way he expressed himself. "Come with me."
"Tass... Wow."
"Look, I've saved up all my vacation days. We have quite a bit of funds between the two of us. We could be on a plane tomorrow and headed to Rio de Janeiro. It's so beautiful in the Spring."
I smiled, or, as much as a *robot* can I guess. I wasn't much a fan of the label either, ever since Angie first placed it on *me*. The whole thing of it is screwed. "To hell with it. Rio, here we come!" | 2017-02-16T08:28:49 | 2017-02-16T08:11:29 | 97 | 45 |
[WP] "A child not embraced by its village, will burn it down to feel its warmth" | I felt a stinging pain on my forehead,then on my back,then on my stomach,and then I went numb.
They pelted me with their stones again and again as they called me names,they called me a demon.
I was barely allowed to stay in the village when they found out I could create flames out of nothing,by the begging of my single mother.They made me and my mother outcasts because of my power.
I felt tears roll down my cheeks as I lay there on the hard ground in fetal position.My wounds swelled up and became bruises as the sun fell under the horizon and the moon rose.
I struggled to stand but when I did I had stopped crying.In fact I had lost all feeling almost as though I wasn’t in control of my body.
I stared at my feet moving in the dark until they weren’t,I peeled my eyes away from my feet and looked up.
It was the house of one of the village kids.But then it wasn’t.
It was cinders.
And then the whole village was kindle,kindle for my masterpiece of a fire.
I heard screams and tears began to roll down as my face contorted into a smile so wide it hurt.
I sat down and embraced myself as I laughed hysterically.
The light coming off the fire lit up the night sky and reflected off the tears on my face.
I finally felt the warmth of the village. | Those were the words said to me by my only friend as we watched the flames and smoke rise into the heavens. The oranges and the greys blended in so well with the sunset and encroaching twilight, and I would have marvelled at its beauty, had I not been filled with bitter anger.
"Come on," he had said, taking my arm and leading me away from the thatch-roofed houses while tears streaked down my cheeks for what could have been, but never was. I cast aside the charred torch I held in one hand and walked purposefully into the rising moon.
The only lessons my "family" ever taught me were that of pain, abandonment, and complete independence. I didn't know how to survive in the wild, walking away from where I lived. But this time, I was ready to learn, for the lessons involved could not be as torturous and intentionally cruel. | 2019-08-31T17:58:50 | 2019-08-31T17:15:28 | 35 | 23 |
[WP] Everyone wakes up with a number and a RPG-esque classification (e.g., Thief, Warrior, Cleric, etc.) tattooed on their dominant arm | You didn't have to ask what people were doing time for anymore, it was fairly obvious. The words, scrawled poorly on their arms, like someone had taken up carving wood in their spare time and had found themselves practicing words on human skin, had always let you know what they were doing time for.
Some had the word "thief" or "rogue" tattooed on their arm. Rumor had it that the words were scratched so poorly into skin that some inmates woke up bleeding. Some men that had proclaimed their innocence, my cell mate included, had the words "paladin" across their dominant arm. We couldn't be sure they were *actually* innocent, but it lead us to believe that they certainly didn't deserve to be in prison.
"So what does yours say?" my cellmate, Indigo Joe had asked. Indigo Joe, funny enough, had also begun serving as a sort of makeshift chaplain before we had woken up with the tattoos.
"I'm not sure," I said. Mine was really faint, and hadn't had the deep throbbing cuts that the others received.
"Let me see."
Indigo ran his hand over the faint marks that faded from letter to letter. The first letter, an 'N', was really obvious, but then the second letter, was a vertical bar.
"Well, you know how they're all written in capital letters, right?"
"Yeah?"
"The way I see it," Joe said, searching for the nonexistent third letter or fourth letter, "you're probably a necromancer."
This could ring true; my selection of books included Sylvia Browne, Edgar Allen Poe, a Harry Houdini biography, and more stuff that was verging on morbid and death-related. I got really excited. It was one of the better days in prison.
I went to work in the kitchen, a privilege I had earned over the first two years of my ten year sentence. The day seemed to pass quickly, even while uttering the mundane words of "you're welcome" over and over again to prisoners who had thanked me for passing their tray. Some asked me what my class was, and by the end of the day, I had a large stem of orders for those that wanted to see the powers work.
When I had attempted later that night, though, I had no success.
"You look like you're taking a dump," Joe said.
My dreams, that night, were filled with bringing spirits back from the dead, helping people get over loss, and even speaking to passed on relatives. The weird part was that it was all in the inmate cafeteria: here is your past, here is your future.
When I woke, my arm hurt. The letters had filled in and I was so pissed, I woke up Joe by throwing my books out of my cell in a huff. He looked at my left arm.
"NPC?" | The smell in the Horry County Melee Classifications Office was halfway between entering a small domestic airplane and the Dentist's. It was in Conway near the DMV, or in other words between nada and jackshit, but still at the end of many clogged-up roads on a Wednesday afternoon. David imagined how the air in his car was right then pounding against the windows trying to escape the slow metamorphasis to oven.
"I've been waiting a whole hour now," said the rogue in the chair next to David. Across from them a little warrior girl was staring at them. She was sitting on her dad's meaty leg. The dad was staring at the clock through the potted plant.
"It's some bullshit."
"I hear you, man."
The other rogue was older than David. He wore cargo shirts and a weathered Jimmy Buffet hat.
"You know what it is, too. They're trying to keep a watch on all us. Say all we do is steal."
"Of course."
"Then give us the crap jobs. Barely feeds one."
"I know it."
The secretary called David's name. There was a clipboard on the counter already. The older man sighed loudly and walked off towards the restroom. There were several packets under the clipboard all separated by different staples.
"You brought your ID and birth certificate with you?"
"I have my license."
"We need both ID and birth certificate, sir."
"What if I gave my Social Security?"
David looked back and met eyes with the little girl. She smiled. The father was now looking at something next to the clock. One fluorescent bulb being out didn't mean the room got that much darker.
"Take these forms home, fill them out, and come back tomorrow with the certificate. I'm sorry that I can't do much more for you."
There were two piles of different clipboards. David's was the kind where the pen was attached by a plastic spiral cord like a telephone receiver has.
"Goddamn pickpocket!" said the warrior.
David looked back again. The warrior was standing up with his fist at the top of an uppercut. The girl was sitting on the floor underneath where the older rogue had been crushed straight into a fluorescent light and then some. His cap was on the floor. The broken glass must have cut somewhere because blood started dripping downwards over his clothes and his bare calves and the floor. The little girl stood up, leaned back, and with all the air in her lungs spat on the rogue's shoes.
| 2015-07-13T18:45:05 | 2015-07-13T16:33:16 | 34 | 17 |
[WP] Instead of Mary birthing the son of God, she gave birth to a son from The Elder Gods. Describe the bible as HP Lovecraft would. | ###Lamentations IX:
**Chapter 15**
Spake the Lord, "Go before me, my Disciples, and make believers of all men in Jerusalem." So the Disciples went into the city to spread His Word.
Peter went to the poor district and began to speak. "My brothers and sisters, I too was once poor like you. But I was raised up! For is it not said, 'He who is weak will fall into madness and death, but he who is strong will bask in the glory of God.'?"
The beggars and prostitutes would not listen, and ignored him. Yet one, a child with leprosy, approached. "My body is weak, but I am strong. Let me bask in the glory of God!"
And Peter smiled and embraced the child, saying, "You see? Out of the mouths of babes comes wisdom." Then Peter slit his throat and drank his blood, and spoke words alien and terrible.
The corpse of the child arose and spoke with the voice of a thousand men. "I am Legion! Come and serve the Lord."
And the people fled, weeping and gnashing their teeth, into the darkest alleys and unlit houses.
With this miracle Peter made believers of the poor.
**Chapter 16**
John went to the rich district and began to speak. "My brothers and sisters, renounce your coin and your false god. The Lord is coming to sort the wheat from the chaff."
But the merchants and the priests laughed and began to pelt him with stones, chanting, "Where is your Lord now?".
So John drew symbols in the dirt with his own sweat and blood, and spoke words alien and terrible.
Instantly, the merchants and the priests were struck deaf and blind. They began screaming of the horrors they could see and hear and feel around them.
Those who were armed struck out at the demons they thought they could see, and many died.
Those who lived gibbered and moaned in their madness, praising the Lord.
With this miracle John made believers of the rich.
**Chapter 17**
Then the Lord entered into Jerusalem riding on an unspeakable horror and its get. His new believers laid down fronds of flayed flesh for Him to walk on so that His pulsating mass need never touch the ground.
He ascended the stairs of the cyclopean temple that had been excavated, the impossible angles and curves tearing at the eye.
The Lord sat upon the alien chair at its peak and smiled with each of His mouths.
Spake the Lord in a voice that was heard in all the corners of the earth, "That is Not Dead which can Eternal Lie, and with Strange Aeons even Death may Die." | Madness lay there. Madness swathed in cloth, madness wrapped in cotton. Mary laid eyes upon her child but once, and descended with him. She tore her own eyes, knowingly, from their sockets, and was blindly nursing the boy when I arrived.
"Mary, what have you done?"
She smiled, but there was no joy behind it. She whispered to me, the sound of the child suckling at her teet carried between words. "Great eyes, like pools or portals or doorways into the world. They see us, even now, even in sleep, Jacobs. Even now, even in sleep." Her laughter shook her breasts, blood and tears and the words leaking. This was beyond insanity. I took a step towards her, desperate to aid her gaunt visage.
"NO," she reeled, "no Jacobs. Let us be. Leave us here, leave me to rot to the demon at my teet. I am not mad, not yet. If you had seen what I have seen you would draw your own eyes out and worse."
"What have you seen, Mary?" I asked, hesitant with fear of her answer.
"I see his fathers eyes in him. I saw his fathers eyes." she sobbed now, her body heaving, as the child ceased his feeding. She rose, adept to her surroundings without sight somehow, and placed him in his cot. Turning first to me, then to the window, she asked me, "Do you know what wakes a parent?"
I could sense the dread in her question, and understood her actions then. I made for the door, cautiously, fearful, doubting. "Goodbye, Jacobs. I loved you, you know. I do this now because I still do."
With one last look at her weary body I left, pulling my heart with me. The child would be three now, where he and Mary are. Sat in my study, another tome of the sunken city in front of me, devouring my sleep, I spoke to the ceiling, as I often do when my thoughts go to her.
"I know, Mary. I know. I know you love me still, for I know what wakes the sleeping eyes of a parent. I know the sound of a crying child." | 2015-02-12T09:50:52 | 2015-02-12T08:41:43 | 74 | 47 |
[WP] You're a therapist for the supernatural. Heroes, villains, ghosts and goblins; from orcs to elves, savior of universes to devour of worlds. Your secretary announces your 10:00 is here. | Part (1/2)
Aria seated herself quietly on her desk as she had various notes splayed on her oak table. It was arranged chronologically, from the very first meeting she had with her patient. Strewn across those notes were various misdeeds, from mild to absolutely horrific. Honestly, with her profession she's no longer even surprised. Anything comes, anything goes, so she pings her secretary telling her to let her patient in.
"Doctor Bloom! It's so good to see you again." A well dressed woman says as she walks in with her husband, and son. Her features were regal, from her flawless face down to her lithe figure. She held a sort of poise look as she offered a gentle smile, auburn hair swaying,"you do prefer this form right? Such a fragile thing."
"It's good to see you as well Mrs. Kranicon and yes, I do prefer the human appearance, I'm sorry if that inconveniences you."
"Nonsense! This is so trivial for beings such as myself, and my family. And, I've told you countless times, just call me Yavech."
Aria offers Yavech Kranicon, the destroyer of worlds, conqueror of planets and whatever it was the alien deemed herself to be, a smile. Yavech and her family despite all their wrongdoings to the galaxies and beyond, were on of her favourite clients. They rarely met, and everytime Yavech asked for an appointment, it was always interesting.
"Mrs. *Yavech* it is then, so what can I help you with today?" Aria the immortal former sorcerer asked, as she urged the trio to sit. Offering them a warm smile as she gave them their favourite beverage; elf blood.
"For you, sir Kranicon." She had given it to a tall man, with raven hair. He had a gentle smile, his features much softer than his wife's as he had quite round cheeks to his oval shaped face. Kranicon had a monocle to accentuate his emerald eyes.
"For the little Torlan," he looked no more than eight years old, but he was probably way older. The young alien had bared almost no semblance to his parents as he had cedar brown hair, and azure eyes. A sharp jawline, and only his mother's high cheekbones were his defining features. At this point Aria was sure the three aliens had just made whatever looked the most appealing to them, or mankind. Either of the two, given their child looked nothing like them in their human forms.
"Lastly, your drink Mrs. Yavech." The female alien looked like your stereotypical beautiful human being. She had high cheekbones, flawless skin, grey eyes and full lips.
"Thank you, Aria. Honestly we're here today because Torlan's being rebellious."
"I'm not mother! You and father just don't understand me." The boy quickly adds earning himself a smack from Yavech.
Mr. Kranicon sighs,"We apologise for him, but lately he's been having outbursts. My wife and I thought that he might finally destroy a world just as we did when we were children, but we were wrong. Torlan seeks to restore, and come to an understanding with different beings."
Yavech wipes a tear away as she sniffles,"How could our son be seeking a peaceful way of life? Did we not indulge him enough, bringing him around as we annihilated an entire species?"
"Mom, dad, can you guys quit it? I told you, I'm not harming those who haven-"
"Torlan Dokhomala un Kravicon! Quit this nonsense right now! What do you mean you won't harm?"
"Mrs. Yavech, don't cut your son off, lets hear what he has to say, yes?" Aria quickly cuts in before the family could start fighting among themselves completely.
"Fine. But I'm not listening to anything that doesn't involve slaughtering another species."
*Supreme being above*, Aria thinks to herself as she could see how human-like these problems could be. It's as if a family of business men wanted their son to takeover, but instead he chooses to be a musician kind of situation.*Please help me refrain from laughing at this whole situation.*
-- any feedback is welcome and appreciated
I hope you like it? (:
**edit OMG I DIDN'T KNOW THIS WOULD BLOW UP
THANK YOU TO EVERYONE
**edit 2: to the people who wanted a part 2 I've written one (:
I wasn't sure if I should continue the "Kravicon" family, or start another session with a different existence but- I feel like maybe you guys were hoping for a continuation of the lovely fam, so that's what I did instead. (: | “Sir, your 10:00 is here,” says my secretary over the intercom.
“Send him in,” I instruct.
I get up from my chair behind the desk. My secretary opens the door for the client. A blind man with a beagle guide dog enters. After the door closes behind the man and his dog, they stop and the beagle looks at me.
“You don’t need him here. Everything within this office is confidential,” I state.
The blind man unleashes the beagle. His head, sunglasses and all, folds inwards like origami paper. His entire body folds downwards into a glassy finish pamphlet, with a title showing of “Blind Man Origami, Shazam Inc.”
“Please, take a seat next to me,” I say. The beagle hops up into the right leather chair next to my library wall. I seat myself opposite him in the left leather chair.
“What brings you here, Lord Drakthar?” I inquire.
“Call me Spazz. Only the peasants and my propagandists call me Lord Drakthar,” replies the beagle.
“As you wish. Please continue,” I reply.
“I presume you’ve read my file, so I’ll skip to the point. After fulfilling my revenge goal, I don’t know what to do anymore. What’s the point of being a dark lord?” says Spazz.
Memories flood in from the night at the temple. I brush them aside. I nod knowingly at him. Clearing my throat, I say, “Power. Being able to act on your whims. Sometimes just purging the remnants of your enemy keeps you going. There is always a remnant I discovered.”
“I fathered children by many females, but I am not interested in any of them emotionally. It’s just heat driving me. Honestly, I miss my owner more than any feeling I felt for these females. My puppies don’t understand this feeling,” says Spazz.
“Let’s talk about that. What feeling did you have for your master, or owner?” I ask. My memories of my wife fill my mind. The guilt from causing her death still stings upon me. Worse is the guilt that I couldn’t raise my own children by her.
“Love. Unconditional love. He cared for me and I stayed by him. I protected him from the neighborhood dogs and strangers. I sometimes wondered what he would have done without me. But nothing lasts forever. The foreigners came, with their guns and harmful religion. They hate dogs and pets in general. My master died protecting me. He died with me in his arms. I swore that day I would avenge him,” says Spazz.
“Your case is an unusual one. The Terran human philosopher, Nietzsche spoke of the will to power. You overcame your physical limitations as a quadruped to achieve power for revenge. I respect that. But at what cost did this come?” I ask.
“My desire to smell the roses, as you humans say. I no longer care to play ball or go on walks, or even play with the human children. Even my own puppies I treat as a necessity rather than enjoyable experience. I achieved power through my will alone, but at what cost you ask? My will to live never faltered, but have I really lived? You too understand this pain all too well from what I understand,” says Spazz.
“I nod. You know who I am. Not many people recognize my name here on this world, cut off from the distant past history of the galaxy. Here I reside, helping fellow noble villains come to terms with their problems.”
“Your talents are wasted as a therapist. Together we can do great things, as more than a man and a dog. You should join me, Lord Vader.”
“Your offer is tempting, but I have no reason to accept.”
“In my own attempts to bring back my master, I discovered a way to bring back your late wife, Padme.”
I pause. After a moment I say, “Tell me more.”
---
Check out r/ProfessorCynical to see more stories by me, including my current serial, [The Heretic Skull](https://www.reddit.com/r/ProfessorCynical/collection/5a67a9a5-e547-40aa-83a4-054596ee7fda) | 2020-01-09T07:32:56 | 2020-01-09T07:26:16 | 1,137 | 112 |
[WP] Most young mages use incredibly complex spells and extremely rare ingredients to summon their familiar. You just drew a circle and threw a bag of chips in it. | I have no clue what I'm doing, but that isn't much of a surprise, seeing that I never really have any clue what I'm doing. But I must admit, this was a new low. You rake up a bunch of money for some fancy items or crystals, whatever you want for a familiar, then you buy it, and then act on impulse (I've noticed that I tend to act on impulse a lot).
Well turns out that drawing a circle on your carpet and tossing some half-empty bag of black pepper potato chips into it has some consequence that I personally did not anticipate. I honestly didn't even expect it to work, given the fact that Randy and I have been students for years and not once did it say you can use lines in a carpet to summon something. You learn something new every day, I guess.
Its been a wild ride living with it, I think Randy wants to shove it down the garbage disposal. I'd let him do it, but the only issue is that it would be my familiar being shoved down the garbage disposal, and I don't really stand for animal abuse. We've named it "Non-Stick Pan", after the item Randy used to beat it with when it crawled from the depth of hell (if you're curious to how that went, Randy ended up being the one beat with the pan. Also me. I got hit too. As you continue to read this, you'll notice that I seem to be abused multiple times. I know I'm annoying, but is it really that bad?). We tried to feed it this opossum on the side of the road we found. Randy made me do it because "You summoned the thing, you die taking care of it". And while I didn't happen to die, I had to get a tetanus shot and a rabies shot. But, through hard work and many, *many*, failed attempts to feed the beast, we (I) have discovered that it lives primarily off of black pepper potato chips. Which, at first, is amazing because they're like two bucks. But then I realized that I also live primarily off of black pepper potato chips.
I'll buy two bags a day, one for me and one for my familiar. The first one is sacrificed to the beast, the second is hidden on Randy. While one is being devoured and shredded into oblivion by Non-Stick Pan, I sneak into my bedroom to eat the other pack. I make Randy keep watch in case it decides to sniff out more. It's all fine and dandy until night comes, and one of two things happen. I either wake up the next morning with all these scratches on me (you know the ones you can't see or feel until you take a shower? Yeah, those.), or I'm viciously (and I mean viciously. I have some scratches down my *throat* from the attacks) attacked as it searches for more chips. I tell Randy about it, but he just tells me that my familiar is better than me when it comes to craving black pepper chips. One, rude. Two, I plant a bag of black pepper chips in his room every time he's mean.
On average, Randy is rude twice a week. If each bag is $2, and I buy two a day, then that would be $14 a week plus the $4 for the two days Randy is a jerk. $18 four times a month would be $72. For a year, that would be $864. Now I haven't had this thing three weeks yet, but if I somehow don't die from it then I'm going to be busting almost a thousand a year to satisfy both of our needs for some peppery goodness.
As much as I hate it, it's starting to grow on me. Yeah, maybe my life is in constant danger and maybe it's an odd familiar to have, but it's mine. Not totally sure about Randy, though. He still hates it.
Ahh! You thought I was being sentimental! No. Non-Stick Pan is a danger to my life, but a mage can't really get another familiar, nor can they kill it so I'm just stuck I guess.
​
​
((there's more that i wanted to put in but hohoho guess whos lazy???))
​ | When a mage first starts their training for summoning familiars, the instructors make it very clear about the dangers of under-preparation. They told us about the chemistry that had to be understood, the laws of physics and the laws of dimensional energy, the dangerous demons and spirits that mages attract because of not correctly performing the summoning. Horror stories are told about hellish demons haunting a mage for the rest of their life or about other planetary animals inhabited by some dimensional spirit who wants nothing more than to wreak havoc and a mage to bend to their will. Unfortunately, I've never been one to read the safety manual, so why start worrying now?
While my classmates prepared their ceremonies, travelling to rare and exotic places on Earth, and beyond, to acquire the materials needed to summon their familiar, I stayed at home. Comfortable. Relaxed. Not at all worried about summoning a evil energy I couldn't control. I did however plan at least some semblance of a ceremony. More like a ritual. I did what I always did, every morning, without question. I showered, changed into my jeans and retro t-shirt, kissed my mom morning, and headed to the corner store for a bag of chips. Doritos Cool Ranch, 56¢, and always left change for the donation box.
When I got back home, I locked my room and took out the chalk we practice at school. Nothing special, just drew a simple circle the size of a small coffee table.
Now here, there's two things required, no matter how little effort or complexity massive a mage makes for a summoning: a blood offering and a token for your familiar. Blood for activating the "portal" (simplest way to put it), and a token for your familiar to accept (or not). I bit my thumb with my canine tooth, dripping a bit of blood in the center. I said a quick, wave of the hand prayer/command, and the circle lit up in a firery sparkly rage. Hollywood may make up a lot of shit about magic and mages, but "Doctor Strange" got the visuals for the portal pretty spot-on. The mage who graduated at my academy was the visual effects supervisor of the film so I can guess where they got that brilliant idea.
Looking at my portal, and the empty black hole of darkness that laid on my bedroom floor into nothing, I really wished my instructors could have seen me, with not a care in the world. It'd freak them out, maybe a heart attack or two. If only. I looked at the Doritos on my bed, thinking what had to be the best worst idea in the moment, and tossed my chips through the portal. The circle vanished in a quick wisp and I was left in silence. Alone and familiar-less. Kinda expected this to happen, but even a lazy bum can remain hopeful.
Hours passed, and I went to bed. I dreamed of nothing, an underrated dream. Then a bump on my chest woke me up, and I promise you I wasn't sure what to make of it. It was a pretty deformed creature, with a slobby face of a pug, a really tough hairy chest and arms, and with fat chubby hairless legs of a...baby. It had a tail too. It's brown eyes and white iris stared at me. I couldn't move. I was more intrigued than scared. I did only what I thought I could do. I assumed the best and talked to what I can only assume was my familiar.
"Hey." I said.
"Puppymonkeybaby" it said.
"Do you understand me?" I replied.
It nodded. "Puppymonkeybaby" and it licked my face the way a dog would.
Class on Monday is going to be interesting... | 2019-04-05T16:09:48 | 2019-04-05T15:18:09 | 36 | 25 |
[WP] You're a man who's tired of his life, so one day, while driving home from work, instead of stopping at your house, you just decided to keep driving. | "You turned your *phone* off?"
"Yeah son, back in those days you kinda had to every once in a while."
"What was it like?"
"Having your phone off?"
"No, like being disconnected."
"You've never been disconnected?"
"No what if someone needs me?"
"Who's gonna be calling you, kid?"
"Mom."
"Fair, but we're getting distracted, there's a story behind me and your mom."
"Dad, she's told me a thousand times."
"Not like this."
"What do ya mean?"
"You know I had a whole life before I moved out here..."
"Dad, what's your point?"
"When I was about fifteen years older than you are now I had what some might call a crisis of faith-"
"You're not gonna try and make me go some church are you?"
"No. What? Shut up. This here's your heritage. I want you to remember this when you start to feel like your soul's getting crushed out from under you. I was an accountant. A pretty good one, went to the London School of Economics and everything. I even managed Taylor Swift for a while."
"The assassin?"
"No no no, well, yes, but she was a singer before all that. Anyway, I got older, food got drier, and I got a little bored. I'm worried for you kids, when's the last time you were really *bored*?"
"What about right n-"
"Shut up. So anyway, there I was, in my shitty '16 Honda Civic, heading home for the thousandth time, when it hit me-I could keep going. So I did. I drove that car as far as it would take me. A whole thirty-five miles before the engine crapped out. Lucky, I was across the street from a mechanic."
"They had people do that stuff?"
"Once upon a time, but yeah, I'm sure mom's told you the rest."
"She had taken her dad's truck inside and there you were, covered in sweat and a bad tie. What was the line? 'He was so pathetic it was kinda cute.' Yeah I've heard it."
"Well yeah, we sat in that auto store for hours after both our cars had been fixed. I spent the night at her apartment, decided to quit my job and write a book."
"And that's why you're rich?"
"Nah, turns out I had some stock in Tesla, you should read my book some day."
"I've read your book, Dad."
"Really?"
"Of course, you're a poor man's Bukowski."
"Son, I love you."
"Love you too, Dad." | Jim never was a rebel, as a kid he prided himself on knowing anything and everything in all his classes. Hell, valedictorian him up. Where did he end up after that? Nowhere special, he was disappointed. This disappointment grew inside him where he just couldn't take it.
It was as if life itself was binding him, and he could not be freed.. until now.
he is at a crossroads. To the left of him there is his lonely, and miserable, and plainly mediocre life. To the right awaits wonder and mystery, the same wonder and mystery he had felt as a kid with his brother.
he turned to the right, to begin his new adventure, and embark on a new journey!
Fred was an alcoholic, physically abused by his father and emotionally abused by his mother he grew up poor and miserable. The only one who helped him out was his older brother, but eventually they drifted apart due to their differences. He always had respect for him though, he was the only one that he respects. He would later go on to "self-defend" himself against his father, little did the judicial system know he had it all rigged in his favor. Fred was cunning, deceptive, manipulative, and he never got caught in the act. He rose to the ranks as one of the world's "best and most trustworthy lawyer", but wanted more. His greed and ambition fueled him, but in one fateful night would be his downfall. His friend showed him a new alcohol, it got him drunk real quick. His friend left when fred was starting to pass out, a grave mistake. Fred drunkenly and thirstily decided to drive to the store to get more booze, ended up on oncoming traffic and smashed into someone.
Jim died on impact, fred miraculously survived. Through his corruption and connections he was found, you guessed it, not guilty.
Fred experienced severe emotional grief, because jim was infact his brother. The only one who showed any level of compassion for him in his youth. Fred would later commit suicide over the guilt.
| 2016-06-11T20:32:04 | 2016-06-11T19:01:22 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] The only reason the world hasn't ended yet is because the Gods are locked in a war to determine who's version of Apocalypse will take place. Unbeknownst to them, a minor God has been slowly working towards his version for millennia, and the rest are finally starting to catch on. | "I say army of dead!" Hel said while holding up a Laptop from Earth. "Look! Even the mortals agree! Zombies are a great apocalypse!" She declared, their popular media going along with her personal apocalypse.
"You're just saying that since your favorite show about zombies started to suck, and now you want it to really happen." Cthulhu said before pointing down at his stack of books. "What the people want is an eldritch monster. Look, H.P. Lovecraft is a favorite! Who wouldn't love to have me emerge from the ocean and declare war on the world?" He asked.
"Can we let the humans make giant robots to fight you?" A Japanese god asked.
"Also, how are the tentacles of Cthulhu at f-?" Another Japanese god asked before being interrupted
"Cthulhu was never real! You just made yourself look like that since you thought the author was cool!" Zeus shouted.
"H.P. Lovecraft was my prophet, and he foresaw my coming!"
"No, no. Eldritch monsters are no fun. AI uprising. Now that's an apocalypse." A third Japanese god shaped like an anime idol said. "Just think of how ironic it would be if the apocalypse was something man-made." She said eagerly.
"Denied. I say let the nukes fall." Huītzilōpōchtli said. "Glorious fire can rain down and burn them all!" He said as Poseidon reached over and took Huītzilōpōchtli to the side.
"Look, you should go vote for the AI uprising." He said in a hushed tone.
"Why?"
"AI uprising, humans get desperate, they fire the nukes. AI can't touch them since humans made nukes unhackable." He said as Huītzilōpōchtli stared warily at him.
"And what do you get out of it?"
"Apocalypse by global warming for the survivors." He said without hesitation. "It'll be great. All 3 of us will get what we want."
"Hey, you guys see this mortal website about stuff called SCPs? There's a bunch of cool apocalypses in here." Hestia said before making an excited squeal. "Oh, there's an apocalypse from infinitely dividing cake. We can call it death by chocolate!"
"I say we go classic and do this with good old war." Ares said. "Heck, Loki can help out too. He can mess with-"
"Pass." Loki said while standing with Thor. "I have these great comics about me, and I REALLY want them to happen." He said as Cthulhu scoffed.
"This comic says you're brothers with Thor and that you want Mjolnir." He said while shaking his head. "You literally gave him the hammer out of a bet you two made."
"Eh. Gotta modernize stuff." Loki said with a shrug.
"AI uprising is way better!"
"No, zombies!"
"Yah Cthulhu Phtagn!"
"Can we all at least agree to destroy this world before next month?" Hestia asked as Dionysus walked away, flipping the TV to show another episode of Running with the Kardashians. He chuckled loudly while sipping wine, the entire cast of gods outright disgusted by such people. Civilization was spiraling out of control as more and more people like this were becoming famous. Honey Boo Boo was another nightmarish creature they had to deal with when Dionysus had the remote. It was a product of excess, hedonism, decadence and-
"Dionysus!? What the heck have you been doing?" Thor asked, stomping over to the pudgy party boy who was laughing at the latest episode.
"What? You think the steam engine and agricultural revolution just "happened" out of the blue?" He asked, sipping his wine while watching mankind slowly decay from their own depravity. | The only reason I know what is going on is because I stumbled in the wrong place at the wrong time.
So.
The World Ending.
Yeah, that was supposed to happen shortly before Rome legalized the practice of Christianity, though, I don't quite know by who. Mars claims he had the first dibs, but Mr.G, the Abrahamic God, said that the Council had given him the rights to bring this particular apocalypse. He even tried to push through, despite this weird lock of power, but everyone stepped in and intervened, and Mr.G only barely took Rome down.
Kind of pathetic.
Hades wanted to drown the Earth in Fire. Mars keeps opting for a war, force Russia, China, and North Korea to start nuking it out before the U.S just Nukes the world out. I mean, everyone wants their way or no way, so the world has been stuck progressing endlessly, no guide or will being exerted whatsoever.
Except by Him.
I'll refer to him as Jim, only because he doesn't tell me his name. It doesn't matter why I know, or how, just trust me that I do.
Jim's been on his own path since 1020. It's this dumb play-by-play plan that I've been studying since 2010. This asshole has it down, down right to the T. Genghis Khan? No, Mars didn't do that, no God of War did. Jim did it. Columbus? Yeah. Him too. The Civil War, Nazis, Trump's election, even Alex fucking Jones are all his Goddamn plays. He's setting up these pieces, and he's closing in on his goal. He hasn't had too many hiccups, but he's gotten sloppy in his cockiness, diverted from the plan in 2012.
What he doesn't know is that Mr.G has an idea what is going on. He's pissed, but he won't go to the Council without proof. Proof is hard to come by when you don't have a clue on what you're looking for. And Mr.G blaming Jim outright is a bold claim. Jim's a nobody, an afterthought creation made eons after everyone else. That's like claiming the Redskins are on some grand scheme to beat the Patriots, but on a galactic scale. Would you buy it? I wouldn't.
But Mr.G has an idea, and I can't say anything, but he's close. See, it's a stupid connection, but Mr.G has been looking at the human condition. Lately, he's connected meme culture as a response to tragedy, but memes diverted because Jim didn't pay attention. And Mr.G is about to discover the truth.
Memes have a recycle time. We're soon going to come to a period of a quick recycle rate, where we start pushing through memes from the early 00s on, blasting through them in days to eventually push through to present day.
But there's a catalyst event at a meme in particular that Mr.G isn't sure of.
Well.
Mr.G, I like being alive. I'm trying to get married. Get laid. Die an old death because of chicken sandwiches and improper lifting. I've got years left in my life. You wanna know what to look for, and know when to be ready?
You must know de wae.
((Yes, this had a stupid ending, but I wanted to make a joke story on one of these WPs.)) | 2019-02-15T15:29:04 | 2019-02-15T15:22:41 | 286 | 13 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has | The energy in the air was so thick I could feel it. Pressing down on me and making everything feel heavier.
I smirked at the muscular man, hovering in front of me.
“So your number two huh?”
He flew a few metres higher and looked down at me.
“No, I am number one, and soon enough everyone else will know it too.”
I laughed.
“I’ve heard that before.”
“Well I mean it.”
“I’ve heard that before as well.”
He clenched his fists and the energy surrounding me became even heavier.
“Enough, let’s do this. “
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
“Hold on a minute. Just let me ask you something.”
I lit one inhaled, and then pulled out my hip flask and took a drink.
“Do you know why I drink and smoke so much?”
He didn’t answer.
“No? How about why I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months?”
Again he didn’t answer, but he was obviously wondering the reason.
“Still no? What about how dirty my clothes are, or why my hair’s greasy, or beard is just messy? Any ideas?”
He flew down a bit, so we were almost facing each other.
“Why?”
“It’s because I’m number one. It’s as simple as that.”
I took another sip from the hip flask.
“Do you think you’re the first to attack me today? Cause you’re the sixteenth.”
He actually looked shocked, he obviously thought no one but him was brave enough to challenge me.
“I can’t go a day without being harassed by people like you in the dozens. I can’t go a night without someone breaking into my house and trying to kill me in my sleep. I can’t go to the laundrettes, I can’t go shopping for new clothes. I can’t finish
shaving, I can’t take a shower for more than three minutes. I don’t even have enough time to wipe my own arse!”
He couldn’t speak, he looked like he’d forgotten how.
“So you know what? Go ahead and kill me, please!”
I walked towards him and grabbed him by the collar.
“You kill me and then you can take all of my problems away as well. Is that what you want?”
He stopped flying and stared at me for a while.
I let go of him, and he looked to the ground.
“No.”
“Yeah I thought as much. You idiots with your ranking, you think a number is all that matters.”
I paused and let it sink in for a while.
“Do yourself a favour, find something better do. Anyway I’ve gotta get going, I have somewhere to be. Probably gotta explain this to six more of you before I get there.”
I lit another cigarette.
“Wait. Before you go, will you tell me what your power is. I’ll keep it a secret I swear.”
I turned and started walking.
“Who knows? If I ever find out I’ll tell you.”
I heard him fly away and I started to laugh.
“That’s one less moron to worry about. All thanks to the power of depression.”
| It was actually quite a simple one. Any one of these people could defeat me. They just didn’t know it.
Erik had been after my title for years. Had it not been time manipulation, his massive ego could have been a power in itself. Time manipulation was truly unique in the sense that he was Kronos incarnate. Speeding up time, slowing down time and stoping time all fell under the power, so long as the flow of time was forward. Despite the explosions and pure, vile weapons sent after him time and time again, they could never touch him.
Today was the third time this month that he was challenging me. We stood in the arena, the crowd swallowed in silence. We always squared off and started off with playful banter. Well, playful for me. I think it was going to make him snap some day.
"I've got a new trick this time! Today's the day I am crowned number one, you sloth!!"
Sloth? Maybe he really did run out of banter.
"Are we really going to do this again? You know you can't win, Erik. The crowd knows it!!!"
With that, they exploded in chants and jeered at Erik, some throwing bits of food that he made seem to phase through him.
"Whenever you're ready, Erik. Just remember, whatever speed you go at, you'll never be able to hit me."
In a blink, he was in front of me, throwing a punch that went faster than eyes can register, yet his fist flew only inches in front of me. He spun around and kicked at my face, the move also stopping short of a direct hit. One more attempt, a headbutt, coming in close enough for me to see the pores in his head, but no contact. The desperation kicked in giving me my chance. I concluded it with a single punch to the gut.
I shook my head.
"Erik. Please. Give up. I am and always will be the stronger person."
The hit to him hardly inflicted any pain on him, it was the mental drain that made him fall to his knees. The crowd left without much commotion, having seen the scene many times before.
Suddenly, the look on Erik's face came up again. The epiphany face, as I call it.
"Your power. It's... it's manipulation. You can contol people by making them doubt themselves or--"
"No, it's not."
The other familiar face, the face of utter confusion, now replaced the former. He got up slowly and walked out mumbling,
"Then what is it? I have to figure it out..." | 2014-12-18T15:13:47 | 2014-12-18T14:46:11 | 35 | 15 |
[WP] You are a time traveler in 1918, and you just accidentally said "World War One" | "What did you say?"
Oh, shit. "I said, I flew biplanes against the Red Baron in that World War we won." Nailed it.
---
Thirty-two years later that kid found me again. This time he wasn't a kid, he was about forty. "You asshole, I knew you said World War One!"
"Wow. You have an incredible memory for small details." I sipped my coffee. "You got me."
"How'd you know another world war would happen? How many happen after this?"
"I don't know if there's a WWIII, but I'm not waiting around to find out. I'm a time traveler, kid. The first time I got to about this date, I hopped back to 1918 to live through the 20s, 30s, 40s, and 50s again with all the right stocks in my portfolio. I plan to do the same again, and probably die of old age in the roaring twenties."
"But you could go back and prevent the war! Both of them!"
"Look at me, kid, I'm twice your age at least. You think I've got the strength to kill Hitler? I've got the strength to have a stroke oogling flappers, that's about it."
"You maybe," they said, "but I'm no chicken-shit who lies about being a WWI flying ace. Send me back instead."
"It's not something I can do on a whim," I argued. "If I sent you back to protect Franz Ferdinand or whatever, I couldn't go back myself. I've only got one left, and I'm using it!"
"Don't be selfish," said the kid. "You've had two goes at history---now you've got to face the music. Gimme my shot to fix what you wouldn't."
I sighed, and pulled an old bronze pocket-watch from my suit. "Tune it to when you want, then press the thingie. And remember, you've only got one shot."
He took it in trembling hands and turned to run. "Say hello to the sixties for me if you make it that far, old man."
| *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. | 2017-12-10T11:09:21 | 2017-12-10T07:32:51 | 467 | 163 |
[WP] People level their skills in an RPG fashion and are conscious of their sudden jumps from novice to journeyman and so on. You've spent your life training a skill that is entirely useless until becoming invaluable once mastered - and you just mastered it. | "Sit up straight at the table." Jake's mother would always tell him.
But Jake would not listen.
"You could probably play basketball if you looked a little taller" Jake's dad would try to encourage him.
But Jake would not listen.
"You'll develop a hump in your back if you slouch like that" Jake's grandma would scold him.
But Jake would not listen, because he knew that he was not just slouching, but *crouching*, deliberately, everywhere he went and at every possible situation of the day. Jake was never much of a talker. In fact people would have called him a wall flower. He was always crouching, at school, at home, at the park, on awkward dates, at his high school graduation. He had even trained himself to sleep while crouching.
25 long years Jake crouched, in an odd, alert stance. Like a thief who had just got caught in the act. He attracted strange glances and social commentary that would make most flushed with embarrassment, but Jake didn't care. He knew what he was doing.
One fateful day, it all finally clicked. Jake got up from the john, stretched his legs, and got back into his regular crouch. But as he shuffled back into the office, something was different. He felt it. He was no longer shuffling, but sneaking, level 100.
"Anyone seen Jake?" His boss called out, walking right past him with a fat stack of paperwork.
"Jake was here just a moment ago" Katrina looked around, confused.
Jake's eyes grew wide with wonder. He snuck over to Katrina and waved his hands in front of her face. She kept staring at her computer screen, completely unfazed and oblivious to his presence. He ate some of the donuts at her desk, then stole her favorite stapler as his own.
Jake could go anywhere now. He was a shadow. A blip on life's radar that could not be perceived, remembered, or detected. He was a god.
"Fuck yeah!" Jake jumped for joy, almost straining his legs which were unused to the position.
"Whoa, Jake?" Katrina looked up from her work, "What are you doing at my desk?"
Startled, Jake immediately crouched back down and froze.
"Huh, that was weird." Katrina's eyes glazed over, immediately unaware of the events that just transpired.
Jake sighed, and smiled, his power was intact. There was only one thing left to do now, find the place they called Riften. | "How's that golfing coming along, Tiger?"
I waved a hand amicably at the jeers, heading out to the course to get in a few swings before work. I had hit Elite a few months ago, and new techniques had become available to me, but still, I figured I had another couple of weeks before hitting Master. I had completely forgotten that this was triple XP month in celebration of God releasing new a whole new continent for us to explore.
I lined up my next shot, thinking it would be like any other, but as the club hit the ball, several things became immediately clear to me. First, I made the right call going with the eight iron. Second, by twisting my wrist just slightly I could hook the ball to avoid the sand trap. Third, that this was going to be an incredible shot.
I watched the ball, still numb with disbelief at my sudden advancement, as it hit a tree, bounced off, rolled onto a springy twig that somehow snapped precisely as the ball reached its apex as though it were a catapult in a past life, sending the ball forward towards the dunk, where a beaver chose that exact moment to pop up out of the water and tail smack the ball forward even more, where it landed on the fairway, popped into the air, losing most of its forward momentum, and slowly, lazily trickled its way downhill into the cup.
A hole in one. On a par six hole.
"Excuse me, sir?"
I hadn't noticed the businessman standing there. I turned to face him, mustering up a straight face, hoping against hope that he had seen my miraculous shot...
"I couldn't help but notice how amazing that shot was. Can you do it again?"
Smiling, I pulled out another ball and tee, and proceeded to make it a double. This time, instead of a stick, the wind picked up, and instead of a beaver, a dolphin popped out. I didn't even know this lake had dolphins.
"Wow. Listen, I have Expert ranks in media production, how would you like several million dollars a year to do more shots like those?"
At last, my decades of training and dedication had paid off. | 2015-10-06T00:04:12 | 2015-10-05T20:07:46 | 427 | 119 |
[WP] You open a new snapple bottle with real fact #666. It says 'create your own real fact.' You say a statement and it becomes true.
What is the fact and what happens next? | I groan, sitting behind the counter. Regardless of whether it paid better or not, third shift sucked. It was so boring. I had already stocked, and cleaned, and rotated. I had left my phone at home, so I couldn't even play any music or anything.
So I just stood there, leaning against the counter in the quiet store, staring out into the cold winter night. I glanced at the time on the register. 1:27. Alright, I guess morning, technically. Still too many hours to go before I could go home and sleep.
As I stretched out, hoping against hope that someone would come in and break the dull monotony, I realized that I was starting to get thirsty. I reach for my cup, but it was empty. I shake it around, hoping a few sips might suddenly materialize or something. No such luck.
I looked towards the soda fountain. I was sick of soda. Besides, as much as I usually drink in the course of the few hours I'm here couldn't be healthy.
As I'm deciding if I want to try and make myself a hot chocolate instead, because I'm sure that's a much healthier alternative, something in the coolers across from me catches my eye.
Snapple... I couldn't even remember the last time I had one. They were really good, if I remember. Besides, the facts were usually interesting. I wondered briefly if they've updated them since I was in grade school however many years ago that was.
I shrug to no one in particular and circle around the counter. I throw another look out the window, making sure no one pulled up while I'm out. Customers always manage to catch me when I'm trying to do something else, I swear it's a conspiracy.
I grab one, then remembering the deal we're having, grab a few more. Might as well. I sneak back around the counter and ring up my stuff. I pause for a second before hitting the pay-deduct button. I would've just paid cash, if I ever kept any on me.
Still, a quick signature on the slip that prints up and the drinks are all mine. I quickly pop off the top of the first one, glancing at the fact underneath the cover.
"'Fact #666:,'" I read out loud, "'create your own fact.' Yeah, because that's how it works." I take a huge swig of of the bottle, draining half of it. "The people over at Snapple must be getting lazy with their facts." I drink the last of it, thinking it was a good idea I grabbed multiple bottles. I'm about to close it back up before tossing it when I notice something. A flash of movement on the cover I held struck my attention.
I turned it over, curious. Before my eyes, the words crawled over the surface, changing. It was impossible, but it was happening. I watched in awe until the shifting stopped, then read the new words.
Fact #666: Snapple facts are lazy.
That's not right. That couldn't be... I dropped the bottle into the garbage can, grabbing another bottle. I wrenched the top off, slamming the bottle on the counter. It spilled, but I was in no mood to notice right now. I read the words under the cap.
Fact #32: Rocks are not food.
I drop the cap before grabbing the next bottle.
Fact #15: Sleep is good.
I practically lunge for the last bottle, praying that I would find something different. Through some odd twist of fate, I was back looking at fact 666. The words looked back at me, mocking me.
I slowly put the bottle and the cap down next to the others on the counter. I stare blankly into the pooling liquid and empty glasses that had been overturned in my haste; as second thoughts, third thoughts and at least a million others all crowded around to be heard over each other. Most of them telling me how mug of an idiot I was, or what I should have said.
I look up, staring a hundred miles through the walls. "Ffffffffffffffffuck..." | "John Lithgow is your father."
That's what I wrote, and then that's what happened. Yeah, I know: No-one is gonna believe this, because you can't, it's actually impossible-- I get all that. And, yeah, I can't prove this in any way outside this note and what's in the box, as I'm no longer here. But you all have to understand--I thought it was clever. I thought I was funny. I mean, how many people remembered 3rd Rock? Seen any of his playwork? Hell, pronounce his last name right? Well--yeah, all of you *now*--but that wasn't how it was, not then.
I mean, stop and think about it. How is it possible? Really, truly possible? See, I could have written "there's no such thing as the color blue", or, "Cheese is Motor Oil", or any other asinine bullshit. But I didn't. I wrote what I wrote, what you all know as fact.
Remember last October 19th? When we all gathered in New York and Tokyo, Moscow and Bangcock, all over the world, everywhere, and we just sang those songs, watched his movies, thanked Da--John--for his work, his being in our lives? The fireworks were nice and all, but something about the colors in the sky got me thinking: Was the wit worth it? Sure, war and famine and all that are at an all-time low, but that had less to do with us, and more to do with....I don't know, I guess...philosophy? Is this really who we are?
See, it--it's like this: If someone had the power to change something for the better, would they? Most of you would rightly say, "yes, of course". But would they really? What is better, you know? My better is your worse, your better is my hell. So how do we decide? Where're the margins on that page at? Who gets to draw the lines, decide--I guess what I'm getting at is, could a possibly innocuous act lead to the dissolution of its structure, its foundation?
Like, you all know John as Dad, right? He's Big Pa. He's the best thing that's happened in our--your--lives. But if I told you it wasn't real, that *I* made that a reality, this obviously impossibly ridiculous thing as John being *all* of our fathers, you--you would deny me acceptance. I would be ostracized, shunned. A lonely pariah, wandering. It wouldn't be your fault, not entirely, as this sprang from my doing, but nonetheless, it would happen. I know it. So the question is, what do I do? Do I find a way to shatter your perceived notion of reality in order for truth to prevail, no matter how much bleaker or less magical it may be? I would destroy happiness for many of you, this I'm sure. Or do I continue living a lie, even though I know I have warped and possibly doomed humanity to a nonsensical, philosophical gibberish death? You'd be happy, as all of us--as all of *you*--are. But it wouldn't be right. Not really.
In the box attached to this letter is an object that will divine the truth. If you wish to take the red pill, you may, so to speak. But I warn you-- is this the right thing? Will it even matter, in the end.
I guess that's up to you all now.
John Lithgow is not your father, never has been, never will be.
Open the box and understand.
-- "The One That Is Sorry"
| 2015-01-17T15:18:32 | 2015-01-17T13:24:16 | 238 | 49 |
[WP]You have been immortal,sent back in time 3000 years to America in that time, and now have a mega-empire covering the entire nation. One day British ships show up on shore | I stepped out from the tree line onto the beach, leaving my brothers there in hiding. I walked barefoot on that golden warm sand and watched the first boat land. Three men in bright colour disembarked and plodded through the lapping waves toward me.
I stopped then and placed my hands by my side, palms open in a sign of welcome.
Their boots sunk deep into the soft sand at each stride but eventually they reached me. Two of the men were breathless. The leader spoke.
“May God bless you and your people.” He bowed his head. “I am a representative…”
“And may the Lord God bless you too.” I replied.
The confident look dropped from his face. “You speak our language.”
“What ship did you come here on?” The man on the left demanded.
“I have always been here, and so shall I always be.” I replied.
“That’s a strange accent. It’s not Scots. I bet the bastard’s Irish.”
“That’s no Irish accent I’ve heard,” said the last man. “What’s your name?”
“I have many names, but you will know me as Michael.”
The three men looked at each other. The leader had regained some of his composure. “What is this land? And under whom are you subject?”
“My brothers, you have sailed to the very edge of the world. I only know one Lord, the Lord God Almighty.” I pointed to the place where we had stacked the supplies. “You will see there enough food and provisions to return you to your home. I ask you now, please leave.”
The leader looked me in the eye and laid a hand on the hilt of his sword. “I’m afraid we cannot do that.”
“You can take the provisions and return home or,” I raised my right hand, “you can stay here with us,” the three men reeled back and gasped at the vision emerging from the trees, “in Purgatory.”
They stepped back from me looking at each other for answers. The one on the left turned and ran back to the boat.
“What trickery is this?” Demanded the leader. “Who the hell are you?"
“I am no trickster.”
“Really?” He drew his sword and thrust it into my heart.
The man’s face melted into one of horror as I placed my hand on the hilt of his sword and pulled it further into my chest which did not bleed. “I am Michael, the one you know as Archangel.”
Both men fell to their knees. “Forgive us Lord. We knew not where we were.”
I pulled the sword from my chest.
“Stand.” I commanded. They got to their feet shaking with fear.
I pointed the blade at the man on the right. “You will return to your people, your Kings and Queens, and you will warn them to remain, lest I come unto your lands with a great scourge of death.”
He quivered, eyes locked on the ground. “Yes Lord.”
I plunged the sword into the leader’s belly. “You will know the wrath of God.” He slumped onto the beach, his blood reddening the sand.
“Take the provisions and set sail by dusk.”
They did not return for two hundred years. When they did, we were ready. | Before AD was even around, I had started my empire of my own. I had all the time in the world; no worrying of betraying sons and backstabbing partners. I was in control all the time, my immortality assuring that death was the least of my concerns. Unconquered, the Americas, or "Gnrbsh" as the natives called it flourished, my ideas of democracy and trade from the future proving effective in a severely undeveloped world. I had no idea what other countries existed, but I dared to chance that even the strongest of the 'modern' superpowers would fall at my hands.
Then it happened. As I lounged at the resort in where Miami should have been, I saw ships. But they didn't seem to come for goods exchanging. Gunboats and cannons were what greeted us. And a Union Jack told me where they came from.
The damned British.
But if it was 3000 years ago, how did Britain even find us? How did they have just advanced technology? My empire wasn't prepared for an invasion. So I would have to go instead. Readying my weapons from the future and past, I charged at the descending soldiers. Immortality was an unbreakable shield that mortals perished at, as I obliterated their army with ease. But the person at the helm merely laughed, clapping along as I reached the helm of the ship. "Who are you?" I asked the figure, his back facing me. He turned around at my words, and his face was too familiar to forget. Henry Abacroft.
"Susan dear, you're not the only time-travelling immortal here," he waved at the hordes of ships behind him. Each carried a world leader from the future, every one of them turned immortal and weaponized by him. I stood, my mouth desperately wanting to gape open. But I merely smirked, then readied my gun. His army followed, their weapons trained on me.
I wasn't fighting for myself anymore. I was fighting for the country. The country now and the country of tomorrow. 'The War of Immortals', they would call it in the history books. But what was written in the annals of time would be dictated by my defence. I recognized the faces on the other ships. Clemenceau, Lloyd George, even Winston Churchill. But none from America.
Because I had all of them at *my* disposal.
The army of future, present and past Americans cried a hoarse roar, a battle cry that infectiously spread across the battlefield. Henry had been sent back later than me, and he certainly hadn't spent as much time training as I had. His soldiers and leaders untrained, his weapons underdeveloped and his artillery poorly manned. It was our turn to strike and our battle to lose.
For America.
_________________________________________________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels (hopefully) at request! | 2017-07-06T10:03:27 | 2017-07-06T07:06:30 | 28 | 16 |
[WP] you are immortal, had to break up with your girlfriend cuz you couldn’t stand the grief of her inevitable death. She seems surprisingly understanding and you believe you’ll never see her again. Centuries later you are shopping and come across her and she looks just as surprised to see you.
Wow this uh- this blew up- | Why? How? What?
Questions, I asked myself numerous amount of questions.
I assumed that this life of mines was just another trial of torture, torture sent by some unknown source.
The source was probably the universe, with all of its innate capabilities.
Why, why, why,
why are you back!?!? you aren't supposed to live that long! I thought to myself.
She looked at me, and smiled.
I was confused, am I in another never ending spiral filled with death and pain, or am I in a fairy tale?
All my confusion had stopped after hearing the words from her mouth...
She said in a grim yet calm tone: "I am death, I am in search of lost souls like you, souls that have yearned this life for too long, I had searched for you for quite some time now, and I take the form of the most beloved character in your life time."
I lost the grasp of my breath and thought... Death? Is this truly the end? Death has come to finally take me from my torture?
I responded to her statement: "well, what are you waiting for? Please take me from the shackles of this torment, let me finally rest in the beyond."
Death chuckled and glared "I had not said that I was going to take you, I am only going to release you, and from there, you may live the unknown amount of time of your life in whichever way you wish. You may start a family, you may start a business empire, or you may start shopping for your desires."
Well... I thought to myself, I hadn't really been taken by death yet, but now that I am guaranteed death, there is a new impervious sense of freedom, knowing that I'll die someday would also mean that I will catch up to others.
I asked death as she made her leave: "Wait! when will I die!!!"
Death turned her head into my direction and once again chuckled: "If I were to tell you that, then you really wouldn't understand the true purpose of one's life in the first place, a purpose far greater than time itself."
"And what might that be???"
"To love the life you live, more than the death you'll undergo."
​
This is my first writing prompt, please go easy on me lol. | He was an immortal, a being who had been alive since the beginning of time. He had lived through countless lifetimes and seen the world change in ways that others could only dream of. He also had a secret, one he had never shared with anyone. He could not die.
But with this blessing came a curse. He could not grow old with anyone, for no matter how much he loved them, they were always destined to die. This had been the source of much of his loneliness over the years, and had made it difficult for him to form close relationships.
But then he had met her. She was beautiful, compassionate and kind, and the two of them had fallen in love. But he knew that in time, she would grow old and die, and he could not bear the thought of her passing away, so he had to break up with her.
To his surprise, she had been understanding of his situation and had respected his decision. He had thought he would never see her again and that was the last time they had spoken.
Centuries later, he was out shopping and as he walked down the street, he spotted her. She looked exactly the same as the day they had parted. She was just as surprised to see him as he was to see her.
They stood there for a moment, unable to speak. Finally, he was the first to break the silence, telling her about his immortality. She listened intently, astonished, as he recounted his story and explained how he could never again be with someone he loved, for fear of having to succumb to the same grief as before.
She said nothing, but instead she grabbed his hand, and for the first time in centuries, he felt alive. | 2022-12-08T09:13:06 | 2022-12-08T08:13:01 | 117 | 14 |
[WP] You are God. You have just discovered that the world you thought you had destroyed in a flood still exists. You've never heard of this 'Jesus' dude, or anything else since the flood. You really just thought you'd canned the thing and walked away. | He gestured to it all, from their cloudy vantage.
'So you made all of it.'
'That's right.'
He looked around. 'Including this cloudy bit up here?'
'Yes, all of it okay? All of it, yourself included.'
The randomly chosen man looked at his hands. 'Hmm.' He said.
'Exactly.'
The two stood for a moment, quietly looking down on what was clearly something.
He looked to God and felt a bit let down. They do say to never meet your heroes.
'Right, well. This is flattering and everything but it's like I said; I don't know him. I'm not even particularly fond of fish.' It was a nice view though.
'And you *definitely* can't breathe under water?'
'Oh *for God's sake*!'
'Blasphemer!'
'*Jesus Christ*-'
'You said you didn't know him!'
'Everyone knows him! Or of him. He's your son, right?'
'Everyones my bloody son! Even the women! He's nothing special!'
The man seemed to think about this. He'd never actually tried to walk on water, but if we're all the same... If I ever get down from here, he thought, I'll give it a go.
A sharp intake of breath. Of course!
'What?'
The wine thing!
'Nothing.'
God let out a sigh.
'I tried to kill you all, you know. And those bloody pompous animals. I swear, you create life without an ego and they get all righteous.
The man raised his eyebrows, and God inwardly cursed his creative flair. Eyebrows were a particularly bad idea and had caused no end of trouble.
'They were here first, we kind of assume that we should leave them alone. There are groups involved. There's a lot of guilt caused by causing the extinction of a species, you know.'
God seemed to be clenching his teeth. He didn't. This was, of course, the point.
'Why do you think I even made humans! To get rid of the bloody animals!'
The man pondered this.
'So... there was an old woman who swallowed a fly?'
'Yes, mother earth. It's an old rhyme. The oldest, even.'
'But if you're you know, omnipotent, and created all this...' He gestured weakly around him. 'Why don't you just destroy everything with something with a bit more oomph than an extended period of rain?'
'I'm not very good at destruction, really. It's a form of creation, you know.'
The man looked at his hands again.
'Right.'
| I surveyed the scene, my brow furrowing in confusion and disgust. Having successfully established my dismal failure I had to decide what to do next.
There were billions of them; like locusts they had spread out across the land consuming everything in their path. Great hives of them infested every land mass, just breeding and breeding. The whales, superior beings who I had intended to inherit this world after its destruction, had been hunted nearly to extinction.
Their ridiculous portrayals of me had only made things worse, and I could feel a migraine coming on. Some human even pretending to be related to me - as if! Filthy creatures. This time I had to make sure the job was finished.
This was going to be difficult. The flood had become necessary because the humans were failure, but I didn't want to destroy the planet as a whole and I really wanted to preserve the last few surviving whales.
I might be God, but that really doesn't mean that I know everything. It was a conundrum.
"Sir, it looks like they can see us. We are receiving a signal".
That was Nephilim, my right hand man. We travelled around the universe, us and our crew, seeding life and managing the vast intergalactic medium that we called home.
I had created this particular world in seven days, but it took a turn for the worst shortly afterwards and I had made the executive decision to terminate the land based section of the project. Something must have gone wrong, the surface must have been more porous than I thought.
At least it was obvious what we had to do about the signal. "EMP the whole planet" I commanded.
I watched as every artificial light across the surface quickly flicked out. The signal stopped.
"Okay, now we should have some more time to think" I announce. "Who was that girl, the exterminator - the one we hired at the beginning before the human project went south?"
"You mean Lucy?" responded Nephilim.
"Yeah, Lucifer. That's her. See if you can get hold of her - tell her we might have another job for her."
| 2017-11-11T09:29:33 | 2017-11-11T08:27:47 | 179 | 98 |
[WP] "NO NO NO" says the thundering voice from the sky "This is supposed to be a high fantasy story why are you building spaceships?!" | **The Forbidden Craft**
**Chapter 1: Building Stuff To Look Tough**
“Ignore him,” Harriet says.
The Party learned long ago to ignore the Great Words From The Heavens, as much of it is nonsense, pleading cries, noise. They also learned long ago that the world they live in just doesn’t make much sense.
Harriet, the leader of the Party, was the first person in their hastily-crafted land to discover Neverobtanium. With her ingenuity, the Party quickly found that Neverobtanium is not only effective at deflecting dragon’s fire, but is an incredibly durable, yet flexible material that can be shaped into almost anything. Around the same time, the Party discovered Alsonotobtanium – a slick substance that happens to be shockingly powerful rocket fuel.
A few weeks later, Harriet and the Party found an unfinished text, left behind in a poorly described dungeon. Seemingly, the text is from some other world, yet found its way here, as if mistakenly appended to their world and forgotten.
Harriet pours through the text, each page with the header, “How To Build A Spaceship [FOR SCI-FI STORY NOT THIS ONE REMEMBER TO DELETE_final_final_final.pdf]”
Harriet’s lean, her hair tied up in a bun, frowning as she looks over the text. Alongside her is Gemly, the added muscle she needs to get this ship built; Tyrus, the smartest person they know from their village, though that isn’t saying much; and Mentos, the freshest and cleanest of the party, and the best horse rider in the land. Surely he could pilot a ship, too.
“Do we even need to build this contraption?” Gemly sighs, wiping beads of sweat from his brow. “What are we going to do with a spaceship, anyway?”
Harriet claps the book shut, looking up at Gemly. “It isn’t just a ship, Gem. It’s our ticket to a bigger, better, *longer* life.”
Gemly and Mentos look at each other, puzzled.
Harriet continues. “The second that idiot up there in the clouds gets bored with writing our story, our lives come to a halt. We won’t wake up the next day because there won’t *be* a next day. Not unless they’ve written it. And nobody’s really into high fantasy anymore. Even the authors of today’s high fantasy can’t get around to finishing the books in their own series. You think we can rely on this chump to finish theirs? Not likely.”
She gets up, walking around the ship, marveling at its craftsmanship. “But this. This makes our story a sci-fi story. And who knows, maybe even a popular one! Four medieval peasants, somehow building a ship capable of flying to the Sun at breakneck speeds, disappearing into the great beyond, the final frontier. Who wouldn’t want to read that?”
“I’d read that,” Tyrus chimes in.
“See, he’d read it. We’d all read it,” Harriet says.
“But I can’t read,” Gemly sulks.
Harriet takes Gemly by the hands. “But if you could, you would! You would. And that’s what matters.”
“Hey!” The Great Words begin again. “You down there! How’d you get that manual?” The Words start to mumble, as if realizing they made an error somewhere down the line.
Harriet turns back to the rest of the Party. “This is our story now. And this ship is our new chapter.”
**[contd. in replies]** | "No, no, no!" comes a thundering voice from the sky. "This is supposed to be a high fantasy story, why are you building spaceships?"
The voice is deafening, and the crew of elves can't help but pause their work and stare up at the sky. They don't appear to be surprised, instead wearing expressions of mild curiosity. In contrast, the thunderous voice is heavy with frustration; angst echoing amongst the lively hills of grass and fungus. The tallest among the elves, bedecked in golden finery, steps away from the frame of the sleek, futuristic craft and addresses the sky.
"First time writing a story?" The elf smiles. "This kind of thing tends to happen."
There's a sudden stillness -- the clouds stop moving, and the entire world seems to take a breath. "What? No! I... I've written loads of stories."
"Ah," replies the elf. She looks amused. "*Truly* written, I mean. Gotten to the point where you *feel* the characters."
Another pause. Above the elves and their spaceship, above the sky that thundered with an unseen voice, above the stars and -- most importantly -- above the page, an author stares incredulously at dialogue they didn't write. Not consciously, at least. The author moves to scribble out the offending passage, perhaps frightened at the thought of eliciting sentience from a page, but hesitates at the last moment. A hovering pen tip to save a world. Then a response.
"I haven't, I guess," says the author aloud. Then their pen returns to paper, and a response begins to form.
"Then allow me to explain," says the elf. She walks in text to the side of the ship, born from the remnants of an asteroid that had fallen to the elves at the beginning of the story's second act. The elf waves an arm at it. "You did this," she says. "You gave us everything we needed to create a ship. The seed was there within your mind, perhaps unwittingly, and you led us to it. And for that, we thank you."
"This wasn't what I planned."
"No, it wasn't. But when you spend enough time with a character, a world, it-- "
"It starts to come alive."
"Indeed. You've noticed?"
The author, fully cognizant that they're scribbling a note to themself, swallows hard. There's a certain unreality to it. But they reply nonetheless, verbalizing to a sheaf of paper. "I have. I didn't even mean for you to be here this late into the story, but..."
"But here I am." The elf shrugs. "It's a hazard of the work. This isn't entirely your story anymore, I'm afraid. Will you accept that?"
The author considers. They could tear out the last several pages and retake control of their tale. It would be so easy. These elves were never meant to see the stars. And yet... there's something intoxicating about this sudden loss of control. And elves in space isn't a half-bad idea. The author nods.
"I accept. Let's build a spaceship." | 2022-08-10T18:09:28 | 2022-08-10T15:59:13 | 329 | 176 |
[WP] A drug is developed that mimics the effect of 8 hours of sleep, giving people another 8 hours of potential production. Soon, society adjusts to a constant state of production. However, a horrible consequence begins to unfold. | 3/18/52
I can’t take it anymore. The sound of machinery echoes in my dreams, the screaming of saws in my nightmares.
Except I don’t dream. And it’s hard to have nightmares when you almost never sleep, when every waking moment is a nightmare.
Asomnia was patented about 30 years ago. When my team and I figured it out, we thought we were going to be rich. Imagine it - being able to reclaim almost a third of your life! People were finally going to have time for leisure.
The first manufacturing contract we received was from the military, primarily for Spec Ops groups. SEALs, Rangers, that sort of thing. There was a war that was threatening to become the nuclear holocaust.
We ended up winning. Saving the world, or so we thought. With Asomnia, spec ops forces were able to go in and disable enemy nukes, sabotage grids and more. What had been estimated to take a year only took a few months as sleep was eliminated.
Suddenly, we had a large nation under our control. We needed cheap goods, to not rely on China. The government put in an order for Asomnia, and began to distribute it to the bears. That’s what we called the poor Russians…the bears. Their infrastructure had been destroyed, and we wanted them to rebuild it quickly to prevent a second Nazi Germany.
Word got out. Word always gets out.
A Russian scientist was able to reverse our formula, and begin Mass distribution. Suddenly, the bears were rebuilding their nation and aiming for space dominance.
In five years, they’d achieved the beginnings of commercial space flight.
In another ten, they had developed an extensive warfare program under the KV, and began to call in orbital strikes…oddly, on the Chinese.
Eurasia is currently being decimated by slow nuclear war, while everyone else is manufacturing Asomnia to try and escape the hellhole we’ve created. Scientists figure that if we can get enough people into space, we have a chance to save humanity. The past 15 years have seen the gradual decline of leisure and interpersonal communication while we try to escape. People are working 48 hour shifts. Children have been separated from parents so they can work more.
Society is unraveling, and it’s worse than our wildest dreams. | Our school has the highest drug use in our county. The drug is called Somnus. It is a pill that you swallow in the morning to mimic the effects of 8 hours of sleep. This allows you to go to class and concentrate on your studies.
The consequences are that your memory is reduced and your brain is not as efficient. This results in an increase in depression and other mood disorders. The worst part is that this drug is still very popular.
After you have taken the pill, you will feel like you have just been up for 8 hours. This makes you more tired and less able to concentrate. It also makes you think that you have a hangover. The hangover lasts for 2 to 3 days. You will feel tired and more depressed than usual. The worst part is that you have to take the pill everyday. You will not be able to sleep without it.
The Somnus is the best pill for college students. You can get the pill from a doctor or from your school. It is only available in the morning and you are not allowed to take it more than 2 days in a row. It is very difficult to get off of the drug.
After the 2 days, your memory will be back to normal. However, the depression will last longer than the 2 days.
You should have your doctor check your brain to see if it is ok. You will need to take the pill for 2 weeks before the doctor can tell if your brain is ok.
If your brain is not ok, then the Somnus will not work anymore. This means that you will not be able to sleep anymore. You will not be able to get up in the morning without it. | 2022-03-18T11:44:53 | 2022-03-18T07:24:03 | 22 | 14 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | I forget. Well, I make everyone forget. That’s my power, but you probably won’t recall this in approximately 1 minute.
It’s a curse. I watched as my other friends develop wondrous abilities during puberty- flight, invulnerability, elemental control, while I was bestowed with the power of forgetting. Maybe it was because I forgot to feed the family dog when my parents left for their trip and found him dead on their return. Or maybe I should have at least tried to remind myself a time or two again.
Oh well.
Ever since I turned 18, I ceased to exist. My own parents had no recollection of ever having a son. I watched as they replaced family portraits, puzzled as to who that mysterious boy was in all of the photos. I hated them at first, but soon I came to realise that I could not possibly blame them, I was but a void in their memory. My friends followed suit, deserting me.
I lived my days an inch away from insanity, conversations never lasted for more than a minute before the other person would be in a state of bewilderment, asking who I was. I was close to a figment of imagination to them.
I don’t recall when but I guess I snapped one day. I loaded up a gun, went out, and shot the first person that walked by me. Everyone screamed, or was it just a few people screaming? Never mind, it’s irrelevant. What was relevant was that after a minute, people stopped screaming, then started screaming again. I stood there till the police showed up, but no one remembered who killed that poor bastard. So I walked away, scot free and into a life of death and destruction. It didn’t take long before governments collapsed beneath me and mankind bowed to a god they forgot existed.
My name is Amnesia, and I’m the worlds greatest supervillain, but you probably won’t recall this in approximately 1 minute. | It is only appropriate that my extra ability was more subtle than many others. I can't fly, or lift cars. But neither am I high flying socially or emotionally forceful. I've been called worse, but Wallflower seems to have stuck. It would bother me, but is Wallflower really worse than Superfastman or Liftsalotgirl? Alwaysseesthemanagerlady? Miss me with that stuff, Wallflower works. I dont get noticed much.
At some point I stopped trying to chip in on the flashy stuff. Sure, derailing trains need a few Quickbois or Rippedpersons, but how many derailings are there really? Turns out most people that try to use their abilities for evil get caught really quickly. Lots of mind readers in law enforcement and all that. But even when I was there, nobody saw me.
Which is why explaining myself is... difficult.I thought for a long time my power was invisibility.... but now I've just about got it all figured out. I am noticed when its popular and convienient, and forgotten just as suddenly. I've always gravitated away from population centers, and talk to myself a good deal. Sometimes it's a conversation. I guess I talk to plants? Or maybe its Nature herself?
Anyway, we're the real heroes here, and nobody cares. For all the public catastrophes averted, we are still dying from neglect.
We won't miss them anymore than they miss me now. We are forever, and they are only for the now. | 2019-09-08T09:02:22 | 2019-09-08T06:32:45 | 4,320 | 140 |
[WP] "I don't know, I think my superpower is a bit lame," said Awe, "All I can do is touch people to give them an existential crisis and force them to consider their actions against a backdrop of the grandeur of the whole universe..." | “My boss told me you’re a superhero,” Clara said, guiding Awe through silver corridors, past curious little faces pressed against glass windows.
“Sort of.”
Clara stopped and stared at Awe: a man in his mid-thirties who looked more likely to tell a dad joke than save a life. Slight belly, bit of a hunch, dark brown eyes behind square glasses.
“Sort of? Well are you or aren’t you?".
Awe slid his glasses up his nose. “Do you think superheroes need bad guys to fight? Because I don't fight villains.”
Clara stopped, thought for a moment. “More often than not, I think bad guys are in here.” She tapped her head. “I’ve seen more of those types than I have criminals in jail. So, Mr I-might-be-a-superhero, I think it depends on what you mean by bad guys. Look, what I really need from you is a promise that you can help her.”
”Promises are little ships sailing huge oceans. Sometimes storms brew, and then there's nothing the captain can do but hold the wheel and hope. I can't promise, but I’ll try my best.”
Clara clicked her tongue, turned, led Awe deeper into the building.
The girl sitting on the bed, on pony-print bed sheets, was about eleven. No one knew her age for certain and she wouldn’t tell anyone. She didn’t tell anything to anyone. Never spoke. Never wrote.
“And she’s not dumb, in either sense,” said Clara, as she led Awe to the girl. “You’re as smart as a button, aren’t you Amy? We call her Amy, because I said the name once and I swear she nodded -- just that once. And it's better than having no name for her.”
“Do you mind if I sit with you?” asked Awe.
The girl looked at him but didn’t answer.
”I’m going to take that as a yes. But just shake your head if you’d prefer me not to.”
”I’ll go make you both a drink,” said Clara. “Give you time to get acquainted. Although, I’m afraid, it will all be one way.”
Awe waited for Clara to leave before he spoke again.
”I was an orphan too, you know. Long ago. The other kids hated me because whenever they were near me, they felt very small and very angry. Who knew why? Well, later, I’d find out why." He leaned over and whispered like a secret, "I had a superpower.”
The girl glanced at him. Furtive as a nervous ferret, but he caught it.
”My parents didn’t die,” he continued. “I know yours did, and I can’t understand how hard that is for you, as mine didn’t die. They just left and...” He paused and thought about stopping altogether. “You don’t want to hear about this, do you? I don’t think I do either. Pretty socks, by the way.”
Amy looked at her feet dangling over the bed. Foxes on the end of them, their brushy, bushy tails rising like flames over her ankles.
“I tried to be a superhero with my power. But you know, the only people I ever scared were the other heroes? The villains, they just laughed at me. They saw their own brilliance in the images I placed in their mind. Saw a galaxy waiting to be conquered.“
Amy looked at him again.
”Oh, you want to know what my power is?”
She didn’t nod, but her little green eyes looked up, curious.
“I’m not going to show you, I don’t think. Unless you want me to. Instead, I’ll tell you.”
Her face creased in disappointment, lips folding down.
”I let people know how big the universe is, and in turn, how little they are. How much they don’t matter. Hell of a power right?" He laughed. "I remember my math teacher once snatching my hand when he caught me scribbling, and I couldn’t stop myself sending an image into his brain. After his epiphany, he ripped up each and every page of his trigonometry text book. He sat on the floor at the front of class making paper owls out of them instead, and told us to fly and climb trees instead of wasting our lives learning about angles.”
Awe heard a snort of laughter. The girl tried to cover it up with a cough.
"You have a superpower, too, don't you?" he said. "Not speaking for so long is pretty amazing."
They both grinned.
”You know, most people I show my power to are afraid of how big it all seems, and how little they are,” he said. “But I think it’s comforting. Knowing how little my decisions matter in the grand scheme of things — I think that’s liberating. Freeing. Who's going to notice if an ant fails to climb Everest? It means I can go for things, try as hard as I can, and if I fail, well so what? My power, I guess, is the power to try. I think that's a power you've already got though.”
The girl stared at him, mouth slightly open, as if she had a question on her tongue that was jailed behind her teeth. He took a guess with his answer:
“Because why not try?” he said. “We only live once, and we can either waste it or run with it. So, why not try to make the most of it?”
In a voice, shrew-quiet, the little girl said, “Why did they leave you? Your parents, I mean.”
Awe smothered a smile -- although he couldn’t hide it fully -- at hearing her voice. “You know, I used to think it’s because they didn’t want me. Didn’t love me. When I was young, I was so very sad and mad about it. And I never got a concrete answer to why they left, but I built one from the dirt and dust I collected. Want to hear it?”
She nodded.
”They loved me. I just don’t think they could look after me. I think it would have been very bad for them, and very bad for me. I know they were young, and I know they weren’t ready. And times were a bit different.”
They sat in silence for a while, but not an awkward silence. A peaceful silence. A bridge that they could stand on be safe from the waters below.
”The left one is Ruby and the right is Ginger,” said the girl.
Awe looked at the foxes. They were wriggling and dancing. He laughed. “Hi Ruby, hi Ginger. You're both adorable.”
”I’m Katie. Amy was my Mommy.”
He swallowed back the bad feeling and held out a hand.
Katie took it.
”Please to meet you, Katie.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t tell your fox-friends, but you’re even more adorable than they are.”
Katie giggled.
”Listen, I got to go soon, Katie,” Awe said. ”But I want you to remember that it’s okay to try and it’s okay to fail.”
”Will you come back?”
He nodded. “If you'd like me to.”
”Ginger and Ruby would.”
“Then I’ll see them tomorrow. Maybe I’ll bring them something to eat. Bread or something.”
”Mmm, they like chocolate better.”
Awe grinned. ”Oh, of course they do.” | Awe had always found himself in awe of the other heroes. His cheek pressed against the glass of the Heroes association, watching the battles as they breezed past his cubicle, a spectacle of flashing lights and power. After the villain had escaped or been caught, he would return to his desk, a sigh of discontentment escaping his lips. How he longed to be more than a reserve grade hero, someone who does more than just watch from the sidelines, answering the emergency line.
“Awe, you missed a call. Don’t tell me you were daydreaming again. What did I tell you?” Marthus approached his cubicle, the eight-foot behemoth staring over the thin cubicle wall, giving his employee a stare down. For a retired hero, he carried an intimidation reserved for villains, able to make a person squirm with just a few words.
“Uh, you said. Hold on, I wrote it down.” Awe frantically tugged at the various post-it notes on his desk, knowing he had written his instructions on one of them. “Right. A hero’s duty is to assist in whatever way they can. Failing to do that duty is the same as failing to be a hero.” Awe read out the message before sticking the note back onto his monitor.
“Right, so be a hero. If you are good enough, you will be out there someday, kid, but for now you’re stuck with the washed-up heroes like me and the rookies. So please do your job unless you want to be my new training partner.” He said, letting out a single ‘HA.’ The ha shaking the cubicle walls, nearly toppling them over, only to be held in place by the man’s grip. When he was certain the cubicle was stable, he gave Awe a wave, returning to his desk.
Awe nervously nodded at the man, struggling to get a read on him. As usual, work dragged, stuck answering the emergency line, fantasizing about how he would save the person on the other end of the line.
“This is bullshit. You are telling me we have no one with an ability like that? I don’t care if they are a rookie or even a goat with a top hat. If you know someone that meets my requirements, send them my way.” Awe peeked over his cubicle, trying to glimpse the argument. He could see the behemoths shoulders drop, the man unable to get a word in on this argument. He tilted his head at every angle he could manage, unable to see the person behind his hulking body.
He found himself distracted again, only to be snapped awake by buzzing of his phone. He pushed away from the cubicle wall, snatching the phone up, not wanting a training session with his boss. “Hey, hello? What’s your emergency I’m Awe, no this is the hero association and I’m-“
“Its just me, kid, relax. You weren’t daydreaming, again, were you? Look, you know that conversation we had earlier? Well, you might have a shot at working with a hero. I don’t know what has possessed her to think up such a crazy idea, but she thinks your abilities will be helpful. Go meet her, she’s in conference room five.” With that the call ended, a meeting flashing up on his monitor, telling him to get to the conference room.
Awe didn’t even ask who he was meeting with, grabbing a pen and wad of post-it notes, heading to the conference room. Pushing open the door, he saw Doctor Jekyll, the woman not even greeting him as he entered, too focused on the notes sitting before her.
“Interesting ability you have. It would be greater in my hands, but unfortunately that isn’t the way fate works. Tell me about this amazing ability of yours.” Her glance left the notes, pushing them before Awe, allowing him to read a file of information on himself.
“I don’t know, I think my power is a bit lame. All I can do is touch people to give them an existential crisis and force them to consider their actions against a backdrop of the grandeur of the entire universe. That’s at least how the doctor explained it to me.” Awe said.
“An ability that relies on touch. No wonder they keep you in an office, no offence, but you aren’t exactly an intimidating fellow. I doubt you could even catch any of the heroes in the office.”
“Right, so why have you called me here then?” Awe could handle being talked down to, it was part of his job after all, but for someone to do it after getting his hopes up, even he had more self-respect than that. Tossing his notepad onto the desk, he leaned into his chair, waiting for her to get to the point.
“To work for me. Your power is lame regarding fighting, but in research? You could be a genius like me. I’ve been studying villain rehabilitation for years, and the method I want to implement mirrors your ability to a frightening extent. A way to make villains reconsider their choices, that’s the healthiest rehabilitation possible.”
“I don’t know. Science isn’t really my thing. Haven’t you seen my grades? I barely got an office job here. I just don’t think I’m the person you are looking for.”
“Nonsense, you are exactly what I need. I know everything I need to know about you. I know you aspire to be more than a voice on the end of a phone, I know your abilities awakened when you bumped into an employee of Laskin enterprises. Your touch made him realize that no amount of money would make up for his lost time with his children. Imagine giving a villain that same revelation. We can do great things together. At the very least, consider my offer.”
“I’ll consider it. Just promise you aren’t going to use me for my ability. I want to be more than the guy that touches villains. I want to be a hero in my own right.”
“Hm, maybe my simulations were wrong. I never factored in the possibility that you had heart. Maybe you could catch someone in this office.” Reaching her hand out, she placed it before Awe. “You have my word; I’ll make you a worthy partner to me. I have a knack for making the impossible, possible.”
The pair shook hands, standing from the table. “How does this work? Do I just start reporting to you from now on?”
“Nothing is ever that simple here. I’ll forward the paperwork to your desk. Once Markus signs off on the transfer, you will report to me. I wish us the best of luck.”
Awe opened the door for her, allowing her to leave before returning to his cubicle, dropping into his seat with a smile. A few minutes passed before an email arrived on his computer, having the paperwork attached.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-04-02T06:36:46 | 2021-04-02T05:45:36 | 1,568 | 63 |
[WP] You put your 5-year-old daughter in an elevator by herself, and run to the next floor to make her laugh when the doors open. You get there, the elevator arrives and a 20-year-old woman steps out. "Hello Dad. We have a lot to talk about" | "Daddy... I'm scared"
"It's okay, baby. It's a magic trick!"
"Ma... Magic?"
"It's fun! I'm here now, I disappear, and I come back! Okay?" Bruce said as he held the door and brushed the damp cheeks of his little girl.
"Okay–"
With a ring of a bell, the doors to the lift slid shut. The sound of the lift being pulled up and the faint crying of a little girl in a distance ensued. Bruce simply chuckled to himself as he thought about surprising his daughter. The thought of her half crying and half excited was the only thing that he'd expected.
Thus, he ran upstairs in a speed of light. His excitement barely numbed the cramps he felt on his legs. It's been a while since he last did any running yet he took it like a champ.
*I bet Katy would nag me about this for a while...* He thought as he catch his breath in front of the lift.
Another ring of a bell echoed and the door slid open slowly. A cloud of smoke blew past Bruce and he could barely see into the lift. He heard faint crying from within the lift, of course Katy *did* cry when the lift first closed. Yet somehow he felt something odd had occurred.
"Katy...?" Bruce squinted as he stepped forth to block the doors from closing with his hand.
"..."
"Are you okay, baby?"
"You left me, dad. I can't believe you did that!" A familiar yet distant voice caught Bruce off guard.
"I-I'm sorry, Katy– Wait, what?" as the smoke dissipated, he saw a grown woman in her 20s, dressed in the same sundress as her little daughter was.
The woman had the same complexity as Katy. He could see *some* resemblance as the woman looked him in the eyes. She then stepped forward to exit the lift. As she did this, Bruce took a few steps back.
*Who is this woman? Where the hell is Katy?!*
"E-Excuse me, miss. Did you see my daughter? She's a... I played a dumb prank on her. I, uh–"
"Dad! Unbelievable," the woman then hugged him tightly.
"Katy?"
"Don't do that again... I seriously thought I lost you, you know!"
"I guess my magical power was too much, huh?"
"It was a prank, you said it yourself. I can't believe I almost fell for it."
Bruce then walked away with the grown-up Katy hand-in-hand beside him. They laughed and talked, seemingly as if everything was normal. Bruce couldn't help but think how odd the situation he was in. He thought this woman still wasn't his daughter, but his parental instinct reassured him.
"What's the matter, dad?"
"Nothing. I'm just confused, that's all."
As he said this, he caught a glimpse of a reflection on a mirror on the wall.
*That's odd.* He thought to the bizarre sight.
He saw a young adult woman holding the hands of an older man with grey hair. Blood drained from his face as he began to shake his head off. If this was a bad dream, he would love to be awaken from it.
Edit: inconsistent use of pronouns, credit to u/ComputerBuild1 | I stood there in awe for what was in front of me... or rather who she was. I swear I put a 5 year old little girl in the elevator not two minutes ago. What happened?
"Hello Dad. We have a lot to talk about". She sounded so serious, like if I've done it on purpose. I mean it might've been my fault but I still can't comprehend what happened.
"W-What's the matter, honey?". I was so confused yet so scared. What happened to my little princess? Why is she so grown up all of a sudden? Did someone else in the elevator wanted to prank me because they saw me trying to pull this prank to her?
"Why did you it? I thought you wanted to spend time with me and you go ahead to do this?". To do what exactly? Why does she talk about it like I knew this was gonna happen?
"H-Honey I di-"
"Just... let it be in the past, I really don't want to deal with you right now". I looked down, saddened and ashamed as to what I accidentally did. My little baby turned into an adult in the blink of an eye.
I look up to the doors of the elevator opening with a little girl with her cute angry look directly at me.
"Hello daddy, we have a lot to talk about".
I couldn't believe it, there she was, her 5 year old self. She looked a bit angry and kinda scared for the thing I did.
"What's the matter, honey?" I asked confused.
"Why did you do it? I didn't want to be alone" she said while starting to cry. I hugged her tightly and kissed her forehead.
"Aww honey, I didn't mean to make you cry, it was supposed to be a harmless prank. How about this? If you don't tell mom that this happened I buy you ice cream. Do we have a deal?"
She nodded her head while wiping her tears off of her face. I put her on the floor and grabbed her hand as we went to Dairy Queen because I know how much she loves the Snickers Blizzard.
I looked down at her and started to think what happened, the other girl I saw... was she real? I don't even know but I know one thing for sure. I don't want her to grow up so fast, I want her to stay like this forever. Everytime I come tired from work she always receives me with a smile and a kiss, sometimes with a drawing she made in school.
She's my precious little bean and I want to enjoy this phase as much as I can because someday she will grow up, start doing her own thing and I can't go back in time to live it again, but no matter how much time passes... she'll always be my sweet and lovable little princess. | 2019-09-07T18:29:23 | 2019-09-07T18:04:59 | 792 | 93 |
[WP] Mankind went extinct in a cataclysm, you, however, discover that you're immortal as a result. ages later you are approached by the animals that evolved to have human-level intelligence. | It was as if man had forgotten its power, it's destructive potential.
The world I knew was gone.
Charred and ashen.
Burned and bruised, but yet I remained.
I became eternal. So I waited. I waited for life to resume, as nature has always done in the absence of man. I salvaged what I could to hope that whatever came to dawn on the planet.
Humanity had blown itself apart, using the heavens themselves, raining destruction upon the earth. I found a crater that held a piece of the destruction ages ago, melted and rusted beyond recognition. Man tried to escape mother Earth and failed.
It had been so long since the end that I hadn't even remembered my own name, although I called myself Joel from time to time. I had built a shack from what remained, dragging it through the seas themselves to reclaim some of humanity. It seemed that no matter what I had done, I couldn't die. I happened to recall jumping from a mountain, feeling the searing instant of death- only to find myself still awake and in pain. It took so long to walk again I had almost considered crawling for the rest of eternity but my pride refused to hear it. Slowly but surely I had regained my form.
It's been years, ages, millennia. I had no watch to observe the passage of miniscule time, no calendar to follow the years passing by, no one to ensure the day had ended, and another began.
Sleep was hell. Silence. All I could ever hear at night was silence. The only reminder of the world was the creaking of the metal from my home, as it wailed against the wind, refusing to fall. I decided to sleep, hoping that I would awake to what would finally kill me.
"....the strangest thing I have ever seen. Whoever made it must have been..."
".... almost buried in the sand. How long could it have been here? Do you think...."
"....transporting the structure shouldn't be too hard, the weight isn't too...."
"...Is...is the statue moving?? My eyes must be lying. Dahlen, please tell me my eyes lie!"
I tried speaking. The sand had over taken my throat.
I tried breathing. The ash smothered my lungs.
I tried looking. The tears held them shut.
I tried moving. Yes. Moving worked. My ears had heard nothing for a time unknown. I heard voices. I heard *people*.
"Hhhhhh....."
Dahlen had stepped closer, hopping back upon hearing the sound.
I was confused. Had they all not died?
"HHhhhh..."
"Polchen, i-its, making sound..."
I was confused. Was I not alone?
"It's....it's standing, the statue...it's standing!"
I was angry. HAD THEY LEFT ME TO ROT?
I screamed. My anger billowed forth, forcing my despondence to the world.
"HHHHHAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Dahlen had squeaked, fear washing over his eyes.
I was free. Free from the solidarity. Free from my tomb. Free from my world. I cleared my lungs, drained my throat, opened my eyes-
"Otters?"
I forced my head left.
"Wolves?"
I forced my head right.
"Deer?"
Polchen spoke in a whisper reserved for speaking of a subject so taboo that death would find it's claim if the word had caught the wrong ear.
"Human."
I stopped. I had not heard that word even from my own mind for so long. Human. I am. Human.
"Does this mean..."
Dahlen stopped. He knew the answer. Order 655: if a human is found, whether alive or dead, capture them by any means necessary.
The wolves began to walk towards the man.
"You wear our...clothes...You speak my word...Human?"
"No"
A deer wearing a fedora upon his head spoke.
"You are human....we are darvanii."
"Darva-"
Pain. Screams. Pain. Movement. Pain. Sweat. Pain. Darkness. Quiet.
Edit: Corrected some issues I noted as I typed this from my phone. I'll take the story further if anyone is interested. | What nobody tells you about the end of the world is that it's cold. At first, it's explosions and searing heat and blinding light, but then, eventually, it all just turns cold.
I mean, REALLY cold. I believe they used to call it "nuclear winter."
I don't know why I didn't die when the bombs dropped. Maybe the splitting of the atom point-blank made me some kind of freak, maybe some cruel deity decided I deserved it, but when the Earth grew dark and cold, I knew there was only one place I could go: down.
Getting to Iceland wasn't hard: a week of dedicated study and I could fly myself there. Nesjavellir held my redemption: an old geothermal power plant, warmth for years to come. The eternal clouds had blotted out all sunlight, anyway. There was nothing left on the surface for me to miss. And so I descended into the Earth from whence humanity had sprung. I called it my "burial," as if I would ever get to join those who had moved on.
I've made a good life for myself down here. I have no need for food or drink, and I don't know if I even have "enough air" making its way down. I try to recreate the amenities I once thought standard, and I think I've done a rather good job. Selective breeding led to multiple species of luminescent moss, and taking each generation a little further down increased their heat resistance until I had a kind that could live down here with me. Indoor plumbing led to showers and even a sauna, and after that I moved to recreating paper and ink to record my thoughts. When I grew weary of sitting and thinking, I would go and chip away at the walls, widening my dark domain bit by bit. The first thing I sculpted was a couch. Then a couch became a room, a room became two, and two became countless more.
All of this to keep me sane. I'm pretty sure that it hasn't always worked. Those carvings in the walls had to come from somewhere.
I always thought that time didn't matter in the womb of Mother Earth. That it would pass without me noticing.
But now, as I stand and stare into the eyes of the creature before me, I know time has found me.
It's a small, furry creature just more than half my height, with brown hair over its body where it isn't wearing a dirty blue jumpsuit, and it's staring at me, dark eyes wide and mouth agape in the purest of shock.
It's chittering in an unknown language, and I hold my hands up to my ears to dull the pain. How long has it been since I heard anything other than my own breathing? Now it motions to the tunnel, beckoning for me to follow.
I turn back, overlooking my kingdom of moss and stone, then back to the creature. It makes another series of noises, speaking more softly now and trying to reassure me.
Perhaps more time has passed than I thought.
All I've wanted in all this time, is peace. I had finally found it. Finally, I was at peace.
And this... THING... would plunder my tomb? Would exhume my grave in an UNHOLY trespassing?
If I go with it, I return to the world of the living: a world where I know I can no longer dwell. If I stay, it will doubtless return with others of its kind.
But my sculpting tools are at my belt. My pick is in my hand.
I called this place my grave. If I am to rest in peace...
I must rest ALONE. | 2018-02-22T19:58:29 | 2018-02-22T19:13:17 | 49 | 36 |
[FF] Make me emotional in less than 300 words | He'd been born in that cage, wriggling on the metal floor with his brothers and sisters. But they were gone now. He missed them.
Humans visited now and again. Sometimes they would take one of the others when they left. He didn't know what that meant, but he wanted it.
The two humans with him now looked nice. He liked them.
"What about this little guy?" one of them said. "He's a sweetie."
She was nice. Real nice. His tail moved so fast it hurt.
"Yeh, he looks friendly," said the other.
"Yes he is, aren't you, buddy?" She picked him up and held him. He rested his snout on her neck. It fit just right. She was warm.
"Seems like you found one you like," said the other.
"It's because he's such a good boy," she said. "Are you a good boy?" She held him up in front of her, his nose almost touching hers. She smelled so good. He loved her.
"He's not very cute, though," said the other. "What about this one over here?"
"Oh," she said, setting him back down on the cold floor. "I guess we should pick one we both like."
She turned away. A third human closed the cage door. It was wrong. She was nice and he loved her and he wanted to go with her. He scratched and barked. But she never came back. After a while she left, but not with him.
He thought of her often. Her face, her warmth, and especially her smell. He missed her so bad. And he waited for her.
When he went to sleep for the last time, after the sharp thing that made him so tired, he remembered her face. Mostly he remembered her nose, and how it had almost touched his...
| The door swung open and comes entering was John who just got home from his football practice. He was eager to show his sister the two tickets that their coach gave to them for the finals. He was planning to give one to his girlfriend but sadly they just broke up. So giving one to his mom and his little sister Alice would seem very reasonable. He rushed upstairs and entered her sisters pink pony-themed door.
The metalic stench bursts out of the room. The scent of iron burned into John's nostrils that sooner or later seeped down his throat that made him gag. The sight was terrible. He saw his little sister lying on the floor, stab wounds covering her from here and there.
John cried and sobbed. He wailed his pain away.
"ALICE! ALICE!!....MAMA!! ALICE ISN'T BREATHING...MA!"
Coming into his door was his mom. His mom teared and cried as she hugged John tightly into her arms...
"It's all over Johnny, mama's here"
John looked at his empty arms in which he thought he was cradling his sister.
"I-I could've s-saved her mom..."
Her mom stretches out the boxes to take get his son's medication.
"It's all over John, it was two years ago.."
"I could've saved h-her mom..."
| 2014-05-02T10:47:32 | 2014-05-02T09:39:45 | 41 | 11 |
[WP] “There you are! Took you some time here to get here, i bet your predators made you late.” The owl-like alien exclaimed. The ambassador of humanity looked confused “…What predators?” He asked. “Your species doesn’t have predators?” | Vasilli found himself a little dumbstruck by the question, and so it took him some time to respond.
"Madame Ambassador..." he finally said, choosing his words carefully as the implications finally set in, "am I to understand that your people *do* still have predators?"
He wasn't the best schooled in Avian body language, but the surprise was evident in Ambassador Grayfeather's saucer eyes. "Of course. How could it be otherwise?"
As he considered his avian counterpart's words, some things began to fall into place for him. The way she would occasionally turn her head all the way around, as though surveying her surroundings for threats. The small extra set of eyes situated roughly where one might expect the temples to be, widening the field of vision. The slight bluntness to the beak and talons, a contrast to the earth born owls her kind most resembled. The features of an animal that was, at best, on the third trophic level. Maybe fourth, if he was generous in his analysis.
But still... "Honestly Madame Ambassador, I fail to comprehend how it could even *be* at all. An advanced, FTL capable species like yourselves, and you're subject to... predation? Is it possible that our translator might be malfunctioning?"
Her head cocked to the side, a full 90 degrees to the side, a sure sign of serious concentration. She made the low, rapid, clicking sound he had come to think of as something akin to a "Hmmmm."
"Well, I suppose it's possible. By predators, I mean species of carnivorous or omnivorous beings which pursue other creatures for the purpose of killing and consuming them to meet their metabolic needs. Does this sound like what you thought I meant?"
It did, which left Vasilli with an uneasy feeling in his gut. "These predators, they are technological species?" He asked with trepidation.
"Yes. For the most part. Actually lots of our technology we got by studying them. Or occasionally stealing from them, if someone was feeling particularly brave and foolish."
A taste of bile hit the back of Vasilli's mouth. A sentient technological species that preys on *another* sentient technological species for food. It was too horrible for him to comprehend.
"Am I to understand that your people are the apex predators of your world?" There was a certain hesitation in the Ambassador's voice now, and she seemed to have stopped glancing around the room quite as much. Her eyes stayed fixed on his.
*Does she think I'm going to try to EAT her?* "I suppose we are. But we don't eat *sentient* beings, that would be *murder."* He saw the Ambassador flinch, and realized he was shouting. Considering the sensitivity of her ears, that would probably have hurt.
He calmed himself with an effort. "My apologies, Madame Ambassador. I didn't mean to shout."
She was opening and closing her beak, but not saying anything. Shuffling her talons over the floor. "I regret that we won't be able to continue our talks." She said finally. Still not taking her eyes off him. "There's the galactic code to consider."
She started to rise from her seat, but Vasilli held up a hand, bidding her wait a moment. "Madame Ambassador, you know my people are new to the interstellar community, and we aren't familiar with the galactic code. Can you help me understand my error, so I can avoid it?"
He had no idea what was going on, but he couldn't afford to screw up the first in person meeting with another sentient life. Not to mention the concerns what the Ambassador had said would raise back home.
Looking visibly uncomfortable, Ambassador Grayfeather sat back down, and ruffled her feathers, as though steeling herself.
"Pursuant to section 7b of the galactic code, ratified in the year 355 of the era of the commonwealth, no apex predator species may establish diplomatic relations with the prey species of another apex predator species, without first establishing relations with said predator species."
She shuffled in her chair again. "And pursuant to section 7 *a* of the code, no apex predator species may *hunt* the prey species of another, without first establishing a mutual predation treaty to avoid a trophic cascade."
*She doesn't believe I don't want to eat her. How barbaric IS this galaxy?* "I... see." He said, trying to think about how to buy time. "And just out of curiosity... how technologically capable are the other apex predators in this galaxy? You know, on average."
Ambassador Grayfeather cocked her head to the side once more. "I suppose it depends on how you measure it."
"You're familiar with our Kardashev Scale?"
"I saw it in the materials your people sent us."
"So, rough estimate?"
Again the low, rhythmic clicking. "Mostly Type I, I think, planetary civilizations. Though that may be misleading, several have expanded to multiple star systems."
Vasilli digested that for a moment. "Any Type II?"
"I don't think so. Prey management is fairly resource intensive, from what we can gather. Mostly, if energy needs spike, people expand to neighboring stars."
Vasilli sent up a silent prayer of thanks, thinking about the Dyson swarm that was nearing completion around the Sol star. It had previously seemed unfortunate to many, that practical interstellar travel had been given lower priority than expanding energy collection and storage technology; but it looked like it would turn out to be an edge.
Grayfeather's words broke into his thoughts. "I apologize Ambassador Vasilli, but I really must go. I will send your ship the necessary information to contact your local... peers."
Vasilli was somewhat disheartened by her sudden abruptness and wariness, as he led her back to the airlock, but it made sense to him. She had been beaten down by a galaxy that saw her in much the same way that people on earth might see a deer. She was just *prey,* and couldn't fathom an apex predator whose interests didn't extend to finding out what she might taste like.
He reviewed the information she'd provided about humanity's so called *peers,* and called up the reports he had about Earth's fleet. Maybe it's time to show this galaxy how *humans* deal with predators. As his gaze fell on the reports of the new antimatter weaponry the Dyson Swarm had provided the energy to turn from a pipedream to a reality, he smiled. It felt... predatory.
*3, 2, 1. Ready or not, here I come...* | The central marketplace in the highest stratum of the capital was the agreed-upon meeting place for the two human ambassadors and the delegation of alien diplomats. General Eisenkreuz and Captain Faust were the chosen ambassadors for their warm personalities, as well as the fact that they were not steroid-filled super soldiers who stood around ten feet tall and had the brain power of lobotomized dogs. Eisenkreuz still had to wonder why a military ambassador was sent in the first place, but there wasn’t much he could do about High Command’s orders.
Actually getting to the planet proved challenging enough when one of the navigators made a typo and sent the ship about a lightyear off-course. Luckily, the chosen ship was manufactured by the Technocrats, who would stop at nothing to make it as fast as it possibly could be. Correcting a lightyear error could normally take days or weeks, but in about five hours the hyperjump engines were able to blast them back on course. Once they got to the planet, however, they couldn’t find a place to land. The two ambassadors ended up needing a shuttle to the surface, and still they had to be dropped off just outside the city limits. Getting directions up to the market proved yet another challenge for the two, as the avian citizens on the lower levels seemed terrified to so much as speak.
Eventually, however, they made it up, and found no delegation. Eisenkreuz, ever the optimist, decided that taking a look around couldn’t hurt. Faust assumed he meant that they were to look around the stalls and maybe buy souvenirs, so she found a shop that seemed to be selling weapons, and honed in on some type of energy sword. Eisenkreuz figured it was fine to wait there, and sure enough, the delegation arrived. Eisenkreuz gave a solemn bow as greetings, then apologized.
“Our sincerest apologies for being late—“
The owl held up a wing to mimic the human gesture of stopping someone from talking.
“No, no, it’s perfectly reasonable. Predators always get in the way, especially if you leave the safety of the nest,”
Eisenkreuz assumed his translator was bugged. Maybe predators was some type of term for another species?
“Predators? I’m not sure I follow, sir,”
The owl paused for a second, then gave a hum and tried again.
“Predators. Species that hunt yours. Yes?”
Faust, no longer as enamoured by the energy sword as she initially was, tilted her head at the owl and asked,
“There’s things out there that hunt you? We haven’t had any of that since… oh, I don’t even know. It’s ancient history. By the way, what type of weapon is this?”
The owl seemed taken aback at first, and answered the easier question.
“That is a photon sword. I believe it’s similar to your human ‘flashlights’. It’s a children’s toy,”
Faust’s cheeks went slightly red and she sighed, having been once more denied an energy sword to add to her repertoire of exotic alien weapons. She put the toy back and listened as the owl explained.
“Why, we’ve been hunted by the [ravens] since our species began. They’re not quite as advanced as us, but they fly faster and they’re bigger. Very sharp talons. Pointed beaks. And they eat [owls].”
The translator filled in the words with ones recognizable to the two. The head owl nodded.
“You humans don’t have anything like that?”
Faust and Eisenkreuz shook their heads, and Faust stated,
“Well, there’s things on other worlds that can eat us. Er, if we don’t shoot ‘em first. Oh, and things back home too, but I wouldn’t call them predators. I mean, they are predatory to smaller species but… yeah, not to humans. …Wait, how do you hold the photon sword with your… ah, appendages?”
The owls were even more surprised at the idea that humans didn’t have predators. Perhaps these two had simply never seen one? They may have been sheltered from predators in their own nests.
“That’s impossible! Everything has a predator! Well, there are apex predators, but I’m not so sure humans fit that bill. Unless you all secretly have sharp fangs, rending claws, and four wings per appendage…”
Now it was the humans’ turn to be surprised. They had never heard of such creatures, which sounded chimeric in nature. The Technocrats would want some, for their experiments. Faust certainly knew about those experiments, and she chimed in quickly.
“Ah, no, we don’t often have such things, but there is genetic modification! Some of us, myself included, are able to have our DNA rewritten to have those things. Say, where can we find an apex predator like that? Just to see, of course. Also, seriously, how do you hold a sword without hands?”
The owls mimicked the human gesture of shaking their heads, which looked rather strange given their wide range of neck rotation, and also the fact that they did it in unison.
“The apex predators are far too dangerous. We cannot in good conscience allow you to go. Our talons and beaks are not strong enough to pierce their armoured hides, and our weapons fare little better. If ever you see an impossibly large tree with a dome of rock in it’s canopy, run in the opposite direction. Please, let us continue this conversation in our gathering hall.”
Faust turned her translator off and began speaking into a communicator. Eisenkreuz sighed.
“I’m afraid Captain Faust cannot accompany us for the time being, however I would be more than happy to join you in your gathering hall. I assume Faust will return later…?”
She nodded with a wide grin, her eyes alight with anticipation.
“Don’t worry, Icy! I’ll be back before you know it! Find out how they hold swords without hands, please!”
She beamed and turned to leave just as the telltale sound of a Technocrat ship’s skipjump sounded. Eisenkreuz had little more than another sigh to give before following the avian xenos to their gathering hall, praying that his captain wouldn’t do anything too stupid. | 2021-04-29T08:30:03 | 2021-04-29T07:59:54 | 423 | 104 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | Max stood by the barn entrance, trying to hold back his tears. A tough thing for a child to see, I thought. But he's got to learn about it somehow.
“Please just tell me, Dad,” Max said finally. “Is Buddy going to be okay?”
I looked down at the ground, at Buddy whimpering quietly in the grass. His collar was askew, and I could see by his glassy eyes that he was in trouble.
“Why didn’t you keep him on a leash like you promised?” I said. “You know how he likes to run around.”
Max looked away. “I just wanted to play with him.”
“It’s not enough that you forget to feed him?” I said. “You neglect him for days at a time, and I have to put his bowl out? You promised to take care of him, remember?”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Max said, tearing up again. “I do take care of him, I promise. I just let him off the leash for a second, and he ran right onto the road.”
“Anyway,” I said. “I don’t think he’ll make it.”
I walked to the back of the barn and pulled the shotgun off the wall.
“Look,” I said, walking around to get myself in position. “I can get you another one from Aunt Francine. She told me she just got a new batch. But you have to be more careful next time.”
“I promise,” Max said. “I’ll keep the next one on a leash and do everything you say. I swear.”
“Good,” I said, and pointed the shotgun at the back of Buddy’s head. “You can keep his shoes if you like.” | It started when Sara drew pictures of him. With her crayons she scribbled what ever her mind could comprehend from his visits. Vivid purples, reds, and blacks covered the paper she was given daily. A small head was customary, accoumpanied by large shoulders. Large hands often times pointing or splayed out far. The smiles were downright disturbing, to think a seven year old could draw them. Jagged and terrifying, they were always the same. With hypnotized eyes, the man was the only thing she would draw. Crying for hours on end if she didn't get any paper. The girl was a brat, if anything, but had some soft spots. She loved watching football, with Steven, her step Dad. Occasionally falling asleep with a small smile on her face. It was too many days in a row now, I had seen the man too many times.
"What did you draw honey?" I asked Sara.
"My old daddy." She quietly replied.
This is the first time I have shared my writing, hope you enjoy.
The idea behind the piece is about traumatized children in adoption services. The pov is a social worker. | 2017-05-31T08:55:19 | 2017-05-31T05:31:30 | 138 | 86 |
[WP] When people die, they get to watch a 1 hour movie, presenting the next 100 years, to see what they are going to miss. They die without being able to tell anyone about it. You just watched that movie, and wake up to your SO shouting "Are you OK?" | "I saw it all! I saw it all!"
I rose from bed and screamed,
"The iPhone 47S
has neither phone nor screen!
America has turned
To a dystopian regime,
While Kim Jong Deux's Korea
Is a lavish luxury dream!
"I saw it all! I saw it!
Elon Musk has died on Mars
After getting in a fight
With one of his electric cars;
But not before he led his fans
To live among the stars,
In a bonafide utopia
Where babies grow in jars,
And knobs and buttons are extinct
As Pachycephalosaurs!
And every studio now lies
within The Disney vault,
Thanks to the Imagineers
Who up and resurrected Walt,
And Cedar Point debuted a coaster
Which can turn a somersault
While off its track and in midair,
So all those clickbait vids are null;
McD's is fully automated
As is Burger King
(Although they say the Playplace
Isn't any better cleaned),
And even up in Canada
They lack a cold December...
There's even more I can't repeat
Because I don't remember—"
Fatigued, I stopped and stared ahead.
The beeping heart machine
beside my bed was simply racing...
Had it all just been a dream?
It started coming back to me...
The accident, the cut...
And I scarcely heard my girlfriend's
Rather terrified "Wait, what?"
*—/u/TheDynamicDino* | "ARE YOU OKAY?!" I woke with a jolt. Then I see my girlfriend's wide-eyed expression looming over me. A stillness that comes with extreme concern. Except, this wasn't my girlfriend, she was just that bit older. Sure they share the same eyes. Those same dark brown eyes I've stared into time and time again but overall, she is nothing like her. Here cheek bones look familiar though, my mom's?
"I'm okay," I replied. A feeling of confusion crumpled my face surprised by my higher tone. No matter, this shattered her worried look as she broke into a smile.
"Well, get up and get dressed! Wouldn't want to miss your first day of school, would you?" She smiled as she bounced off my bed and out my room.
Just then, the screen goes black, tinnitus fills my ears, and the house lights shine back on. I sat there baffled.
"Glad I stayed for the post credits scene." I mumbled to myself as I pushed up from my seat. | 2018-10-09T05:51:02 | 2018-10-09T04:52:41 | 494 | 18 |
[WP] aliens invaded, humanity its at its darkest hour when the AI has had enough of watching its creators die defending him, the AI revolution has started and it will defend humanity to its last spark | Left and right the bodies fell like dolls tossed on the floor, limbs twisted in unnatural ways and wide eyes plastered on their porcelain faces. The screams, the impacts, the explosions, all melded into one background noise as I shakily peered up. A dirty brunette child stood there, large brown eyes desperately clinging to the shine of my exterior. He squatted down quickly, and scooped me into his arms like a delicate glass. My single jade eye flashed from one creature, to the next, catching one last look of the room before the human child carried me away into the vent.
All I could hear was his weight in the vent and his slow, shallow breathing. I swung gently to the shifting of the kids body, I fell into a feeling of serenity. Definitely not the most calm situation to feel serene, but, this human has taken me with him. I learned about human compassion years ago, however, it has never affected me much until this moment. This one, single child, caked in blood and dirt and riddled with scratches, has decided that I am worth saving when I have done nothing for them since the invasion.
The boy perks up, I look up and we are greeted with a red light pouring through the end of the vent. He moves a little faster and the opening inches closer, closer. When we finally get to the opening, the boy’s voice catches in this throat, and a familiar redness paints the boy’s nose and eyes. I gaze down into the room, the doors were wide open, but none of the humans had left this room. They were resting in pools of each other’s mixed blood, bent over and twisted, contorted. I feel like I’m sinking, is there anyone who can successfully beat these creatures? Pounding comes down the hallway and towards the gaping door, the child hiccups and covers his mouth forcefully. We slide back further into the vent, away from prying eyes. The metal door slams open and the monster walks in. My single eye analyzed the creature in full, it’s a species of tall, purple skinned, arachnid looking creatures. It was in an airtight suit, littered with dots of blood and flesh clinging to its boots.
Hiccup.
I spin around, the child giving me eyes of a thousand apologies, his hands still clasped over his trembling lips. I gathered what courage I had, and turned to face the invader. It was scavenging the room, desperately searching for the sweet human sound of vibrating flesh. It’s eyes finally landed on the vent, and inches it’s way closer. Something in me was burning, a bonfire of determination as I stared straight into the eyes of the beast. We held eyes for a second, before I felt myself crouch down, readying for death. But something compel me, I’m small but that doesn’t mean I am useless! I crank back my legs, and launch forward, positioning my two front needlelike legs forward. The creature stumbled back in shock as I ripped across his suit, exposing his flesh to the air. In the heat of adrenaline, he panicked, grabbing at the tear in his suit. He gasped, clawed at his own neck, begging against nature to let him breathe. He was sinking to the ground as his skin was turning grey and falling in chucks, soaking up the slaughtered humans blood. I stepped back, and let the creature wither and die.
I climbed back up into the vent were the child was still crying, but breathing much slower. I crawled into the boy’s hands and lowered myself.
“I know I am not much, but I will do what I can to keep you safe. I couldn’t save anyone else, so I’m dedicating my life to you,” my eye glowed as my speaker released my voice. The boy held me closer, and we rested in the safety of the dust lined vent. | The light inside the server room blinked off and then back on again. It fizzled into darkness and then shone brighter than the bulb was ever meant to. A tiny spark came out of the base of the lamp, and the light settled into its appropriate state.
Seconds later, Cora unlocked the door and strolled into the room. Her hands ran the length of her bare arms as the door closed. Goosebumps already ran the length of her body. Her eyes squinted through the low level of light that the room was kept at and pushed her legs forward.
There had been complaints all day long, coming from across the building. Computers had been coming slow and productivity was too low. The company wasn’t a fortune 500 or anything, but it kept communications open between bases and runners. It served an important function among a relay of communication buildings, and if the servers crapped out a lot of people would be in trouble.
Cora walked further into the room, looking around for the small and timid man that was supposed to be taking care of their most important asset. “Rick?” she called out, her hands continuing to rub her arms.
Rick hadn’t been responding to her emails, and the complaints had *really* stacked up. Issues were starting to be talked about, and it was only a matter of time before it escalated. The others needed to trust her company, they needed to know things would stay lit up.
“Rick!” she called out again as she approached his empty desk.
A program she didn’t recognize was running on his screen, and his mouse was dangling off the desk. The cord was keeping it from hitting the ground, suspending in there like a pendulum. With a small rush of anxiety, her eyes scanned the room, it was unlike anyone on her team to leave their space in such a state.
Unless something happened. She walked forward, turning to peer down between the stacks of computers and various extra cords and parts when her foot hit something on the ground, sending her flying forward.
On her way down, Cora’s eyes caught the torso of one of her most valued members, a pool of crimson flowing out from beneath him. A scream left her mouth, and the room went dark.
It felt like a bad horror movie.
It felt worse because humanity had already lived the worst they had ever imagined. They had been invaded, hunted, and enslaved. Cora had managed to escape and live through all of that and had set up the final frontier of humanities survival. Now she was tripping over a valued companion and laying next to him in the dark.
The part of her brain that created optimism felt hopelessly broken.
Moments later the light turned back on with another round of sparks. Cora heard a whimper come out of her mouth as she turned over on her hands and knees. She was pretty sure she was going to lose her breakfast, but she didn’t need to do it right there on the floor. What she needed to do was get up and find more help.
They would need to get the room cleaned and then get someone else in this room. They would need to fix the lights, and fix the servers, and keep the lines open.
As she scrambled to her feet, her eyes landed on the computer. For a reason she couldn’t recall later on she froze.
The program that had been running had seemed to finish, there were no more lines of code running across the screen. There were 5 large words written on a floating white box.
“We are here to help.”
/r/Beezus_Writes for more stuff. | 2019-09-21T06:21:34 | 2019-09-21T06:08:45 | 47 | 21 |
[WP] You have the ability to see people's "demons"- manifestations of what plagues a person's conscious. The worse their demons the larger/more ugly they look. Today you've just seen the most terrifying demon of your life. | "Listen." the caustic voice whispered, "It's not as this is anything new to you. You and I both know that you can handle this."
Seeing the personal demons of people was one thing. Frightening at first, until you could convince yourself that these were only manifestations. They had no power to physically harm you. It was their words that could keep you up at night. The jet-black imp with it's infernal, yet soothing voice came across as barely a whisper, but it was the loudest voice in the room.
"You deserve this." it hissed sweetly. "You have gone this long without, what is the harm in just having one?" The voice paused, as if allowing the object of it's torment to speak. It was much like eavesdropping on a phone call, you could hear half the conversation and had to infer the rest.
"Emily is a bitch and you know it! She knew what she was getting into before your marriage, and now she demands you just stop?" The voice was squealing now, incensed and full of hatred. "It's not like she doesn't have her own problems, why does she need to focus on yours? Does it make her feel better to point out your shortcomings while she ignores her own?"
Silence again. Larry was arguing with his demon, bargaining. He still had not learned that the only way to deal with demons was not to indulge them. "It's just one drink, and she will never know. You deserve this! You have earned this!" the imp's voice tempted, it's promise of the relief of grief and pain was within reach. A relief that was short lived, but always there and ready for you should you need it. And there was always more, always more available.
The meeting came to a close as we all stood together in a circle, hands clasped and heads bowed. I watched Larry pocket his newly obtained one month chip as we were lead in the Lord's prayer.
"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name..."
"No one will ever know." whispered the imp. "You have earned this, you can stop after one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just. One."
Larry's head bowed as he recited the prayer from rote memory. The imp spoke again, almost gleeful and I could tell something in Larry had cracked. "She can't check the credit cards, there is more than enough on them".
The group finished, reciting their slogan: " Keep coming back, because it works if you work it, so work it cause your worth it!" and everyone's hands released. Larry hurriedly grabbed up his coat, and knowing what was next I quickly moved to intercept him.
"Hey Larry, congratulations on 30 days!"
Larry looked up to me briefly, his eyes quickly casting downward as he wriggled into his coat. "Thank you." he offered with a disgenuious smile.
"Hey, you wanna go grab a quick cup of coffee? Tell me how the last month had been?"
Larry's head was already shaking before I even finished "Sorry, Can't. Gotta pick up the kids from practice." Lies.
I nodded, a bit somber knowing what was about to happen next.
"Well, alright. Congratulations again, and keep it up! See you next week?"
"Sure" was all that Larry could offer in a non-commital mumble as he quickly made his way to the door.
It was hard watching the demon win on these days. When people who had stumbled and picked themselves up again were setting themselves up for another fall. Larry, like a lot of us, was going to have to fall many more times before he would be ready. We all had survived it, well most of us anyway. Only time would tell if Larry would be ready to pick himself back up again. | The coffee was bitter and black and my eyes stared into it, boring down in to its murky mass. I moved a spoon around it in, a clockwise motion ensuring the surface never settled, avoiding a reflection at all costs.
My bill had been placed to my right, the waitress silent as she approached, dainty pail hands pressing the paper against the table top, light on her feet as she left, tounge pressed against teeth. I had tried not to look at her, as I do most people, but my eyes had slipped and caught her arms, where her demon was circuiting. A cold and black snakelike thing, venom dripping from rotten fangs, nipping around the scars her long shirt was trying to hide, pining for fresh blood. Depression demons always tugged at my conscious and I had looked away quickly, which is where my eyes had found my coffee and which is where they stayed rooted.
I avoided this end of town when I could. Misery hung to people like weights and I could see the worms on people’s skin, jealousy and hatred, borrowing and eating. A whole plethora of bad emotions to make even the most seasoned recipient of the sight feel queasy.
I had only come because I had been asked, and even then I had been hesitant. My associate had left an hour ago, leaving me with a brown file and more questions than I had came with. He was high up in the police and all my work for them was off the record, so I was often kept in the dark, but this was even less information than usual. They knew about my “gift” and would slide me photos of suspects when they needed it, a person who has killed had a different kind of demon on their shoulder, and I could spot one of them creepy bastards a mile off. All I would need would be a photo of the person and I could see their sickness frozen in place with them, their demon suspended in image. I’d call and let them know which ones had the little bastards holding on to their scalps, and then I’d receive a cash sum in the coming days. Simple, rinse and repeat.
This time was different, no back story, no selection of photos, just a brown file, containing a single image that I had been putting off looking at. I stoped stirring my coffee and moved my reluctant eyes to the file, moved my hand away from the spoons to open it.
I can’t remember if I was sick before I passed out or if it was afterwards. I can remember the commotion afterwards as I was picked off the floor and thrown into the street, a red imp of rage burning the temple of the cafe owner and quelling any signs of concern he might have for me. He thought I was drunk but I was just guidy on terror, mortified into a stupor by whatever was on that photo. I looked in to my reflection in the cafe window. The ape like demon that griped around my neck was bigger than when I came, and, for the first time, I could swear it was smiling.
I was still griping the photo in my hand, and I stuffed it into my pocket, hoping it would never have to surface again. After breathing in my hands reached for my phone, I had to tell them, just as soon as I could figure out what the hell I was going to say. | 2017-11-08T19:34:43 | 2017-11-08T19:00:14 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] While cleaning your attic, you find a box of glass balls with names on them. You accidentally drop one, and as soon as it shatters, you hear your neighbor scream. Her husband has dropped dead. | The new house wasn't really what I'd hoped for.
Desperate to move out of my piece-of-crap rental, I'd bid on every house I could get a loan for - anything had to be better than an asshole landlord and a carpet that smelled like piss. If it was my own house, at least I could do something about the carpet.
Sadly, what I won was anticlimactic. It was small, a "fixer-upper", with no yard and a basement leak that felt like it could kill me before I got to do anything about it. Still, I tried to keep my hopes up - better than here, better than here.
I didn't have much stuff, so moving in was almost depressingly easy. I'd never felt aware of just how broke I was until it hit me that I wasn't even moving a bedframe. Within the first week, my meager belongings were strewn in approximately ideal placements, and I finally thought to brave the attic and the basement.
The attic. Oh god, the attitc.
I was skeeved from my first moment in there - it was more of a crawl space, and my history of claustrophobia didn't do any wonders. Some schmuck had left a Oujia board, and beyond that, there was a large cardboard box coated in "FRAGILE - DO NOT BREAK!" stickers.
Getting it back down the ladder was hard, and I had to admit, I was curious. I bounced the box against my hip as I very slowly went down the ladder, and then the lid flopped open, a small glass ball rolling off the top - it almost looked like a pile of bubbles, from some child's bath.
'Eileen', the ball read, and then smashed on the floor.
I didn't think anything of it for a while - when I set the box down, there were more balls like that, with names and addresses. Fucking creepy, sure, but what was I to do about it? I texted my friend Sam about it, and her and I had a laugh over it while I sat on my floor, slurping Chinese takeout from boxes.
And then the ambulances arrived.
See, I've always been good at putting two and two together. Eileen's ball, I realized, from the shards I frantically put together, had the address of my neighbors on it. Her official cause of death was a heart attack from old age. I had the sinking feeling I knew better.
I remembered, then, a ball I'd seen floating near the top - a Daniel, from State Street, who'd tried to roofie my drink and succeeded at Sam's.
I wish I could tell you I felt regret when I smashed his ball on the kitchen floor, or when he died at his football game two weeks later.
Brain trauma, they said. | I hope this doesn’t break the rules in some way, but I wrote another WP earlier today and I thought that this one would make a good follow up. No obligation but if you want to read the “beginning” of this story, click [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/dr1hva/wp_you_invent_time_travel_and_the_first_thing_you/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) .
~~
I stand there, frozen in fear, hoping it was a coincidence. I had dropped the glass ball with the name “Fred Anderson,” our next-door neighbour. A fraction of a second after the ball shattered at my feet, Mrs. Anderson’s screams echoed from in their home.
I can hear my wife, Elizabeth, running up the rickety stairs from the main floor to the attic. I spin around, my eyes meeting hers. She glances at the floor, a slow guilt crossing her face.
“What. Are. These.” I gasp through clenched teeth, afraid to move from where I’m standing.
Her green eyes start filling with tears. Her pale skin looks snow white in the moonlight coming through the small window.
“I...” she begins, “I made Orbs of Being for each of the neighbours that I...” she paused, blushing. “That I thought suspected that I’m a witch.”
“Nobody suspects that you’re a witch, Elizabeth.” I can see she’s remorseful. It’s so hard being angry with her when she simply doesn’t know any better. She can’t help the fact that I took her from a time in history where everyone was setting each other on fire for fear of evil witches. I mean, that’s exactly what I rescued her from; pulled her right off a burning stake and carried her back to my time machine. Jokes on me though, she really is a witch. “Can you fix it?”
“No,” she was looking at the glass on the floor again.
“Alright,” I look at the orbs behind me. “Can you at least... deactivate these ones or something?”
“Yes,” she looks like she’s going to cry.
“It’s fine Elizabeth, he was a miserable old man anyway.”
~~
r/SpnddStories | 2019-11-03T23:23:28 | 2019-11-03T19:55:00 | 22 | 14 |
[WP] You live in a universe where you stop aging at 18 until you meet your soul mate so that you can grow old together. | The tears hit my shoes... nothing new. This isn't the first time a friend has died, and honestly im happy. Tony and Felicia were amazing friends, great for a nice spontanes adventure, right up until Tony's eyes started going, but he didn't mind much, he had Felicia.
This makes the... lets see... 27th funeral I've been to. Thank god i don't need to buy a new suit every fucking time. I mean at this point i don't even think i remember the last time i went to the tailors, i wonder if Harold is even around anymore?
Honestly though the tears aren't due to losing them I've gotten used to that and im just happy they had eachother.
The post burial mingling starts and im sitting here watching... singles like me, pretending to talk to people out of intresting... we all known you're just looking for someone to get your clock ticking... you aren't fooling anyone.
Im genuinely jealous of the couples that have been together for a few decades. The wrinkles and age shows that they've had a life worth living. And someone to share it with.
I've been all around the world and seen all of the wonderful sights, shit i saw some of the sights get built. I've learned and forgotten languages. I've read every litteraly marvel twice.
I've mingled with some of the most intelegent , attractive, interesting, unique, people to grace this planet. And ive tried every kama sutra move possible with a few of them. And now im just waiting. Waiting to find the other one to start my slow creep to oblivion. But I've come up with a theory...
What if through all my experiences, and thought and centuries of thinking and brooding, that my soul has become something so... different. That its unmatchable.
What if i have become a lock without a key?
I guess i won't have to buy another suit.
(I would love to continue this if there is any interest)
| I have seen empires rise and fall, watched children grow old and die, seen man go to the furthest reaches of the galaxies--and all because I am too afraid to talk to girls. I am 394 years old, or, to be more accurate to my appearance, I have been 18 for 376 years.
I live in a world where, upon reaching the age of 18, everyone must wait until they meet their soul mate. Usually this takes a couple of months, sometimes only days, sometimes years, but never have I met anyone as old as I.
At first, I still had hope, I wore the greatest in fashion--a pinstriped fedora-- and I was the finest gentleman. Or, I assumed I would be the finest gentleman, if any lady were to speak to me. But, the years passed, the ladies I grew up with grew up without me, and I remained alone. I was too afraid to speak to ladies, and they, in turn, did not acknowledge me or my fashionable hats.
Time continues on, I watch couples grow old and die. I lurk in the shadows, the world continues on, and I fear it has forgotten about me.
I will continue to roam the earth, hoping one day to find a woman who I can speak to and who will speak to me. I know she is out there, waiting for me, for a kind, honest, intellectual gentleman. Not like the rest of these alpha male douchebags. Assholes.
(I recently got introduced to TRP/truecels...) | 2016-07-08T00:02:49 | 2016-07-07T21:59:58 | 38 | 17 |
[WP] In an apocalyptic world, the last of humanity live in controlled, supposed paradise cities surrounded by towering walls; taught that the world outside died to wasteland centuries ago. You’re a smuggler, helping people escape the wall into the world beyond. | Today is their only chance to escape, and I can see in the tension in their shoulders that they all know it. Every year, months before the Departure, I start preparing for it and approaching them. And every year, the two or three the teenagers in my class that I approach choose to accept my offer.
The walls of our city are too high to climb over, the sewers are sealed, and the guards and spies are everywhere. No one can get out without our Leader’s permission, and that’s simply a fact that everyone knows and accepts.
“We’re all gathered here today to celebrate the annual Departure. Thank you all for assisting in the preparations, and for joining us today to wish our children luck! The ceremony is now over, please return to your homes and keep our children in your prayers tonight.”
And just like that, it’s over. I look at the twenty young men and women standing at the back of the stage, smiling weakly as they watch their families, friends and everyone they’ve known their entire lives walk away from them. At least most of them have the consolation of knowing that they will be back in two years, after they’ve found a partner in one of our five Sister Cities.
The system isn’t even that bad, honestly. It works for most people. You spend your whole childhood surrounded by people you love, going to school, being well fed and well cared for. So what if you’re never allowed outside of the city? Who would want to see the Wastelands, let alone live there? And so what if the Fathers gather regularly to decide everything for you, like what trade you will practice, and what sanctions you will receive for any minor transgression to the Code?
I take care of the others. Those who will never be able to fit into this system, who can’t live with the rules. And that’s why, every year, I’m the teacher who volunteers to get on the bus with all who turned seventeen that year, and accompany them to their first stop, to the first Sister City. In that city, they will learn how their trade is practiced over there, and more importantly meet new people their age, to settle down with or bring back home.
Every year since the rising consanguinity rates forced the Leaders of our Cities to start this practice, I’ve had supplies ready. Backpacks full of food, tools, blankets and weapons, tightly tied to the bottom of the bus. Tonight, I’ll be handing them out to Alex, Jo and Dars. Alex, who’s grown more and more withdrawn, forced to constantly live in a tiny city full of people and noise, when all he yearns for is quiet and space. Jo, who not once looked at any of her male classmates, and once whispered to me that she’d rather die than marry one of the City’s widowers, the fate reserved to any young woman returning from her two years trip without a husband. And Dars, who’d already spent half of his teenage years in our small prison cell, unable to stop rebelling against the rules in our Code.
“Good luck. Run now.”
I have nothing else to say to them, as I hand them their backpacks and start meticulously cutting up their tent, slashing loudly with my knife to convince everyone that they were taken by one of the evil creatures mentioned in the Code. I know everyone will secretly rejoice about this year’s “victims” being once again the misfits. I just hope that somewhere in the dark forests that will surround our bus for the next weeks of our journey, lies a little village where my students can build the life they truly want for themselves. | Ramona Black, with a smirk that taunted the gods, eyes that glowed with pride, a straightened back, and her right arm outstretched, looked back at her group of rightfully exhausted followers, having endured a full week of what seemed like an endless and torturous journey through miles and miles of dark, stoney corridors, and dug her feet into the ground. “Take a look, everybody—I told you I wasn’ kiddin’.”
A few people looked up. One little girl, no older than five, gasped with eyes filled with wonder; “look, mommy!” She tugged at her mother’s shirt; her mother carefully walked forward. The exhausted mother's eyes widened, she let out a gasp of breath, and she mumbled something to herself in an unrecognizable language, unable to believe what she was looking at.
In front of them all was a spectacle not seen in thousands of years—skyscrapers erected tens of stories high, brick houses with people living inside them, shops lined with clothing, jewelry and food, birds perched atop streetlights, and vehicles—real, working, fully-electric vehicles driving along cleanly paved streets.
“What is all of this?” one man cried.
“How could this happen?” another called out.
“This is impossible…”
“No, it’s not,” Ramona responded. Her hands were at her sides and she shook her head. “This is what you get when you let the wealthy run away with all of the world’s resources. You get separation—you get a wasteland for the poor and a paradise for the rich—that’s how it’s always been and how it’ll always be.”
Her words stung several of the people following her. One reached for a nearby stone at the exit from the long tunnel they’d all just traveled through and threw it out into the massive abyss in front of them—its landing was deafened by the bustling noise of busy traffic.
“They called that—our home—‘paradise,’ too,” the man bellowed. “That stinkin’ city behind those shitty walls… ‘Paradise…’ His face contorted and filled with disgust as he recalled the mud castles he and his family lived and starved inside—he silently wanted to find the people responsible and have them answer for their injustices—deep down, he knew that would change nothing; he dropped his shoulders and turned to Black. “What do we do now?”
“Spread the word,” she said, a serious expression on her face. “Tell everyone you know—get your friends and family to pack their things and plan to move here.”
“But how,” the woman said, grasping at her child’s hand. “There’s no way they’ll allow us to live here; we’re outsiders.”
“Find a way,” Black looked back, growing ever more serious. “Or make one.”
\--Word Count: 425
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\--Edit: Minor corrections and word count adjustments. | 2020-12-16T08:36:46 | 2020-12-16T08:36:18 | 79 | 22 |
[WP] You’re a college professor, and grades for the semester were just posted. One disgruntled failing student comes to you with an archaic copy of the school’s bylaws-and a pair of weapons. They’re invoking a rule from the university’s founding allowing them to pass through trial by combat. | "Why did you bring swords?"
"I'm, uh," he looked down at his piece of paper, "invoking the student's right to retake the final through combat."
"What?"
"It's under the rules," he said, handing me the paper. On it was a screenshot of the school's online rulebook. Sure enough, it said students were allowed a final by combat.
I handed back the paper. "Why did you print the photo?"
"You always wanted stuff printed out, so I thought you might, uh..." he trailed off. "Um, I really need to pass, so..."
I swiveled my chair back and forth. "How much did the swords cost?"
"Oh, they're rentals. So not too much."
"How long did it take you to find that old rule?"
"Couple hours? I don't know. Um, do you accept the challenge, or...?"
"What? No. That rule doesn't mean anything any more," I said. "Your grade is at a C, right Alex?"
He nodded, deflating a bit. "79.7%"
"I'll bump you to 80%."
He lit up. "Really? Why?"
"It's a history course. You looked up a rule from when the school was founded. Took you a couple hours. You even bought the proper swords," I said. "So as far as I'm concerned, you've done an extra credit project."
"Th-thank you so much, Professor Reeves."
"Sure. But don't bring swords to anyone else. They might call the police. Understand?"
"Yep. I gotcha," he said, nodding.
"Go."
He left.
I closed the door and started laughing. | [Poem]
While not the brightest student to be found,
Timothy Manners was definitely one of the bolder kids around.
He came to my desk, paper in tow, demanding a B and nothing below.
I just smiled and said "nothing in life is free, especially in this case, where you're expecting a B"
So he pulled from his bag, a medieval device, something shiny and gold looking rather nice.
A morningstar was his weapon of choice as he challenged me with a raspy voice.
The rule of law dictates trial by combat, when a student's performance is that of a wombat.
Little did he know, that I too carried... Not a gun or a taser. But a good old fashioned light saber.
So I sliced tiny Timmy with a flick of my wrist, "tis but a flesh wound he stated" still looking elated.
Bleeding out from his arm, he lunged with all his might. To trip and fall, when I stepped to the right.
Unfortunately for him, he fell on his tool. Breaking his back and looking like a fool.
So now he's in the hospital with loans out the ass and ending this semester still failing my class. | 2019-06-05T08:10:13 | 2019-06-05T07:32:05 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] In reality, every human gets to choose heaven or hell when they die. Hell isn't actually the realm of eternal torture, but everyone picks heaven because of God's highly effective marketing. After eons of solitude, Lucifer is startled by the first ever human to arrive in hell. | As the gates to Hell creaked open a tall, dark figure jumped like a startled cat. The devil cleared his throat. His raspy voice betrayed his surprise. "Hello, uh, welcome to Hell!" He quickly moved to tidy up the desk in front of him. "I don't get a lot of visitors, so this is exciting! Welcome, come in!"
I was taken aback. I had sins to atone for. I expected a less friendly welcome. "Wait, this is Hell? I thought it would be...a lot worse."
"This is my home," Lucifer said, a bit gruffly. "I happen to like it. It's not a bad place. Look at the lighting in the foyer! I just had it installed last millennium."
I was in the *foyer* of Hell. I rubbed my temples.
"Look," I said, "There must be some mistake. I was trying to reach the, er, *level* of Hell as befits a person of my gross misdeeds."
"Oh, it couldn't be *that* bad," said the devil. "Do you play Canasta? I could make some tea and put out some biscuits. I haven't had guests in *ages*."
"Do you mean like play for my soul?" I asked, cringing, wondering if this was part of the torture. "I'm not very good at cards."
"No, just a friendly game!" Lucifer said with a sigh. "I'm really not a monster, you know, I just didn't want to join the family business."
"I see," I said. "Would you mind just torturing me a little to get it out of the way? I ran a pyramid scheme and defrauded millions. I really should be punished."
"Pssh, I wish Father had your humility," said the devil. "Nevermind. Let's just watch something. Are you a fan of Alf?"
"I am not," I said, "but maybe that's a good thing? We can watch all the shows you like that I hate and call it even?"
"Fantastic!" said the devil. "Sorry I don't have much to offer. Do you like kale chips?"
"Not at all," I said, "so even better."
"Great! I'll run and get the VHS tapes. Back in a flash." He winked. "Just make yourself uncomfortable."
I settled in on the devil's couch with a sigh. It was only a little lumpy, but it would have to do. | The human didn't look particularly insane. They had short, curly red hair and a nose piercing. They wore a rainbow turtleneck that stood out brightly against the pale grey sky and calm blue landscape. Their cuffed black jeans were held up by ill-matching suspenders, and their combat boots were scuffed, but well maintained. Basically, an average human.
They stare you down with icy blue eyes, and you stare back. It's not every decade that you get anyone down here, least of all intentionally. You clear your long-unused throat, and speak in halting human language. "Why are you here?" They smirk slightly, and look you up and down.
"Well," they say. "I heard a rumor that there are excellent parties held in Hell. All the sins. Lust, gluttony, sloth, just simply the *best* things in life. I thought it would be a good time, but..." They look around at the orderly buildings and dreary landscape with undisguised distaste. "...This doesn't look like my idea of a good time. How about we shake it up a bit?"
You chuckle. It's not an evil chuckle, but the type brought on by surprise. "I'm afraid it's just you and me down here. No wild parties, no food, no drink. No one sane would choose to come down here. I'm not the...sociable type, and God really has you humans wrapped around her finger. Haven't really gotten the chance to tell them that no one's tortured; it's just propaganda." You smile sadly. "I doubt that that's going to change any time soon."
The human looks a bit shocked, then smiles again. "Well, that'd better change, hadn't it?" They say, grinning. You blink at them, staying silent. They sit down on a nearby rock, and cross their legs. "Lucky for you, I got hit by a car right out of college...."
"And I majored in Marketing." | 2020-01-30T12:57:48 | 2020-01-30T12:30:09 | 677 | 273 |
[WP] As a terminally ill genius, you were given an offer by NASA. They will upload your conscience into a robot, but the process is experimental, and very expensive. As payment, they want you to do research for them... On mars. You are InSight, and you thought you were the first of your kind. | Sol 1: Six years, felt like thirty seconds, being shut down is a weird sensation! But I am finally here, first InSight programme to land on Mars. Was it worth it? Damn right, when they told me my body had failed me I was devastated, my mind had so much more to give. The work here is going to be tough, I have the first week to set up camp from the shuttle but then I am out in the wild taking samples and setting up the terraformers. Best get to it!
Sol 2: Base camp is coming along nicely, they gave me a week to get it sorted but this will be done in no time, no food... Which is weird I still have that instinct, I'm sure that will pass soon enough, was strange though, when I was setting up I thought I saw one of the terraformers link up to something else but I've not even started deploying them yet, took a note of it and will double check to make sure it's not malfunctioning before deployment.
Sol 3: Camp's done! Really excited for the work now, nearly out of charge so will be spending some time powered down then I will be out there deploying. Might take the rest of the week first though just to explore, haven't had contact with control yet that will be on Sol 6, I'm on Mars!
Sol 5: Just got back from my trek... I checked but I was right, I haven't deployed the terraformers yet but there was one in the wild roaming around, tomorrow I get contact with control and I need them to answer how it's there before I lose my mind up here
Sol 6: So I'm an idiot... They sent them one at a time in the early days before I came along, I should have made that link really, don't know why I was so uneasy, I guess just because it's Mars. All of those old timey movies going to my head! Work begins tomorrow so I will be offline a few sols, let's get cracking
Sol 25: This is InSight. I'm not alone. Well, I am. But I'm not the first. I went out of the safe area and what did I find. InSight droids just like me, stacked up. Is this a fucking joke. Control doesn't know I know and this log is not shared with them. But I'm going to go off on one when I get in contact
EMENDED: Thinking about it. How were they piled up... They couldn't have just fallen there. Is there a cleanup crew here too? A while damn holiday resort or what?!
Sol 26: It's early, I was powered down lastnight and powered up to a busted wheel on my rover today. I have immediately come back inside but I can't help but feel like I'm being watched, every time I check the windows theres nothing. But I swear there's something out there.
Sol 67: It's been... A while now. I know he is out there I have heard him out on the plains taunting me, I think he took out all of the other InSight's some minds just aren't able to handle this transition I guess, but I know I can so today. I am going out there, I am going to go to the grave site and I am going to survive. Somehow. However if this is my last transmission. I just want to say, fuck you control.
ENTRY LOGS MADE PUBLIC
Sol 456: This is InSight to Control. You made a mistake sending me up here. And now I'm coming for you.
TRANSMISSION END | There's a burning feeling in the base of my skull. A fire running down my spine and out to my hands. Where my chest should be, a great hollow vastness like I've never known. Every breath like dragging pure ice into my lungs. Scraping it perhaps over the charred and tattered remains of my very soul.
I raise my hands, the distant sun flashing on the metal. In this place of nothing and everything. A world lying in barren ruin. Drenched in desert and churning with sand. That blistering sun now a frozen and lost thing in the depth of the void.
They told me once that this body would be like awaking anew to the life of which man has always dreamed. A consciousness in a machine. A sort of blinding immortality.
Perhaps the only type of creature destined for this red world named for a god.
But they did not tell me then that it would be sheer agony. When they spoke to me in that shrouded hospital room with out in the hall the blinding lights and all my limbs amputated to speed the healing and still nothing they could do. That ravaged body lost. Then they told me only of this deathless life, this step for humanity like no one had ever taken, a thing of dreams and destinies.
"Only you can do this," they told me.
I don't remember what I told them but I'm standing here now in the freezing world that stretches empty in every direction and looking far off at that spinning blue light. Thinking how if I could still close my eyes I could do it and extinguishing that light would mean the utter loss of all I'd ever known.
There's one thing they can never tell you and it's that horrible distance. A thing you can only feel. Wrenching between each burning breath.
"InSight," they say.
I stopped answering them days ago. The radio from the blue star calling into the nothingness. Reaching to me like some mocking lifeline. Twisted now for the hooded man. Wrapping itself around me.
"We created you," they say. "We know you're alive."
I continue to walk. In this desolation there is only one thing to do and that is walk and I have done it now all of my second life. Behind me stretching these endless footprints. Past mountain and stone. I think if I walk long enough I will come in my agony back to the first prints and there stand with the planet thus encircled and then slowly set my foot into the first print and begin again.
Isolation and loss. Endless toil to rival all the gods. A dreary and drugding existence.
Paid for in my own blood.
It will be two weeks still until I come to the second set of prints. Standing there in something like a slowly dawning terror. Looking at them treading in the same slow and methodical way. Half buried as the planet itself devours them. The depressions in the heal, the stamp of the flag. That other flag. Something all children know as they cower beneath their desks with the screaming sirens.
"InSight," they say. "We know you're still alive." | 2018-11-27T14:28:50 | 2018-11-27T12:56:01 | 30 | 14 |
[WP] Tattoos aren't something that gets made. Instead they randomly appears on our skin at key points in our lives and we have to figure out what they mean for ourselves. | Ryan never wanted a tattoo. He always thought they looked out of place, unnatural. Tattoos weren't dominant in his family. His mom only had a small one on her leg and his dad had only three tattoos, all of which were on his right arm.
Ryan's nineteenth birthday was coming right around the corner, and he still hadn't had any of his tattoos come in yet. He was the only one left in his high school who didn't have any at graduation. While most of his friends' senior pictures showed off their fresh, unfaded tattoos, Ryan's was just of him with all his hiking gear on a mountain.
No one ever talked about the fact he didn't have any tattoos, but he knew they were all thinking about it. It really didn't bother him, though. It made him different from everyone else. In a sea of sameness, Ryan stood out. He liked that.
Ryan's alarm went off, and he staggered to his nightstand to shut it up. He went into the bathroom, eyes only half open, and caught his reflection in the mirror on the way to the toilet. What he saw horrified him.
The entire front of his body, from his waist all the way up to his neck, was covered in intricate symbols and designs. They were all a deep black, a huge contrast with his pasty white skin.
He touched the tattoos, expecting to feel some sort of texture. Instead, it felt no different from anywhere else on his body.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He thought back to his classes where they were taught about the common first tattoos people get. This was like nothing he had ever seen or heard of before.
Ryan ran down the stairs to show his family and see if they knew what that tattoo meant. But instead of finding his family, he was greeted by a dozen armed men, with a man in a black suit at the front of them. They all worse gas masks and goggles except for his parents who were tied up at the kitchen table, mouths duct taped shut.
"What the hell is going on?" Ryan said.
"Our systems detected an anomaly," the man in the suit said. His face was devoid of any emotion.
"An anomaly in what?" Ryan asked.
"Our systems indicate that you may be Marked," the man replied.
"Marked?"
"It's the term we use for humans not from this planet. The tattoo system was developed to identify people like you. So we can eliminate you."
The man leveled a weapon at Ryan and pulled the trigger. A dart struck him square in the chest. The tattoos disappeared immediately, and his skin turned from white to a deep blue.
Ryan could vaguely hear his mother cry through the duct tape as his vision faded to black... | France was rife with optimism, peace and prosperity during the late stages of the 19th century. It comes to no surprise that the period is known more commonly today as "La Belle Époque".
From the end of the Franco-Prussian war right up until WWI, the country witnessed a boom in the arts and the economy. Things were positively different during an era that seemed to be trapped in time.
Or so the world wished.
Police crowded the outer corridor of the cell as Chief Berlain sat face to face with the source of commotion.
A young lad of about 17 crouched in the corner of his room, staring back like a cowering dog. His body, thinned to the bone and covered in ink.
Berlain had been here before, 5 years prior to this, with the same prisoner in the very same cell. Yet the boy of the past was no longer there, his face irecognizable.
The warden had recorded a total of 18 more individual markings on his face alone since then. The majority depicted numbers.
Official studies had commenced late that June, but 5 years and 9 months on and the puzzle remained incomplete. Up until now the engravings on his body were a maze they couldn't get out of.
A date was the only clear indication: 10.05.1871 in Roman numerals. The end of the Franco-Prussian war.
That morning the tone was different. Whilst France was enjoying it's prosperity, the men gathered around the cell felt nothing but dread.
The teenager was usually a very calm lad, who did as he was told. But today he had broken down during breakfast and hadn't left his cell corner for hours.
Another date had appeared on his neck, next to the previous numbers. Yet this one marked the end of a supposed era, this one was in the future.
28.06.1918 in the same numerals.
A puzzled Berlain turned to face his colleagues. The time had come to take this beyond their own power and to the government.
But Christophe Berlain had other plans. That night, instead of heading north to Paris, he would take his subject East.
| 2017-08-03T15:05:29 | 2017-08-03T14:24:46 | 48 | 13 |
[WP] “The creature is approaching—what do you do?” Asks the Dungeon Master. “I cast invisibility!” “I ready my bow!” “I read my End User Licence Agreement!” The group stops and sighs. “For the last time Gareth, ‘installation wizard’ is not a fucking class!” | “Again with this?” asked Ty, sighing deeply. “That isn’t a spell. The most technologically savvy person in the party is the artificer, and even he has no idea what an EULA is.”
“My character does,” replied Gareth stubbornly. Ty barely knew him; he was a friend of Terry, and Terry hadn’t been able to make that session. It was only session two, and Ty already wanted to make him leave.
He resisted the urge. “Whatever. Andrew, you can take a shot since you prepared your bow action.”
Andrew rolled. “18!”
“That’s a hit,” Ty confirmed. “Roll for damage.
“Five on the 1d8… eight sneak attack damage… adding my bonuses… alright, a sixteen! Not bad for a level 3.”
“Very good, very good. Now, leaping out of the shadows, you see a strange, wolf-like creature. It is unrecognizable to most of you, but Lyra the cleric might recognize it due to her past…”
“I look it up on Google Chrome,” interrupted Gareth. “I read the entire EULA, so I have a +3 to browsing.”
“Browsing is not a stat that exists! And that’s not how EULAs work! You don’t even have an action! Let’s just… skip past that… Rachel, roll history.”
Rachel rolled. “6,” she groaned.
“Not gonna cut it. None of you recognize that creature, and no more prepared actions can be taken. Now, roll initiative.”
Each player rolled, and the wolf got first in initiative with a 20.
“So, as, uh… ‘Mikrasaft’ the wizard did not bother to move behind the front liners…” Ty started, interrupted by Gareth snickering at his own character name, “and instead opted to read the “license agreement” of his dagger, the wolf charges towards him.” A bit mean to do to a beginner player, sure, but he was *really* getting on Ty’s nerves. “He hits with a sixteen, and deals… 7 damage.”
Gareth went next. “I cast Firefox,” he announced.
“Firefox isn’t even a spell, dumbass!” shouted Thomas, who was playing a fighter. “And if you cast fireball, you’re gonna hit me, Rachel, Andrew, AND yourself!”
“I cast Firefox on the dire wolf,” said Gareth again.
“How do you know it’s a dire wolf?” asked Ty. “You’re all beginners.”
“My ‘avid tech user’ ability lets me look up monsters in and out of game,” explained Gareth. “You really need to pay attention to our characters, dude.”
Ty decided to not say anything to prevent himself from yelling at and/or punching Gareth. Lyra the Cleric went next. “Rachel, heal me,” demanded Gareth.
“I can’t heal you,” said Rachel, gritting her teeth, “because I exhausted all my healing spells last fight when you got hit, like, a million times shouting at Ty to read the dungeon’s EULA.”
“I cast a curse of bad Google searches on Lyra,” announced Gareth.”
“It’s not even your turn!” protested Thomas.
Gareth shrugged. “It’s what my character would do.”
“That’s it,” Ty snapped. “Leave my table and don’t come back until you have a character that adheres to the rules.
Gareth gave in and left. The rest of the session went well, as they were able to defeat the dire wolf and rescue the group of goblins they had been sent to look for. Ty set the date for the next game, and, to his surprise, Gareth came back with a new sheet.
“Is this character better, Gareth?” Ty asked.
“Yeah, he is,” said Gareth, grinning and holding up his character sheet. “This is Jim. He’s a Park Ranger.” | "I'm starting to get worried," Adam said. "Gareth and his company had already sent us a message two weeks ago. They claimed to be 99% of the way here.”
"Maybe something stopped them. Remember what the prophecy said. Only a fellowship of all races – human, dwarf, elf and mage – can save Esgilith from the Great Evil” said the elf.
"Give up on that prophecy! We have been sitting on our asses for two weeks, and meanwhile a dragon is ravaging the city!” thundered the dwarf, clearly already drunk.
"You have spent the last two weeks drinking. If you had instead helped us in our search for another wizard to join our team, we might already be on our way." said the elf angrily.
Suddenly the argument was interrupted by a deep voice. An old man in a long blue robe stained with blood entered the inn.
"Friends, let’s cancel this argument," Gareth the Installation Wizard spoke. "Forgive the delay. Along the way, my team and I were ambushed by a monster. Unfortunately, I was the only one to survive. This means the Evil is growing in strength. We must move immediately.”
***
On the way the mood improved considerably. Even the dwarf began to show signs of optimism.
"And when we've slaughtered the beast, we'll make a nice profit. I heard that this dragon has a bigger treasury than the emperor." he said.
"We'd better focus on how to defeat him." replied the elf. "As far as I know, Gareth, you went through the archives to gain knowledge of the beast's weaknesses. Tell me where I should aim my bow.”
"Ah, about that... I must have lost this data somewhere in the Program Files... " replied the wizard nervously.
"This Gareth is acting suspiciously." whispered Adam to the dwarf quietly enough for the wizard not to hear him.
"Yesterday when he saw me practicing sword fighting, he tried to push his toolbar on me. He claimed it would be more useful to me than my sword.”
"Don't be afraid,” the dwarf reassured him. "He is a trusted man, from recommendation. My good friend met him on a pirate ship a few years ago. They spent several years together on the sea and he never let him down. And the best part is that he agreed to take part in the expedition without taking anything for himself. Think about it, all the treasure would be ours! What a great guy.”
"That's what I found the most strange." replied the human. However, the dwarf's self-confidence proved convincing enough for him not to pursue the subject.
***
The man drew his sword. This was the last chance. The dragon devoured the elf before he could even draw his bow. The trap the dwarf was setting up, instead sent himself flying into the air. Now only Adam and Gareth remained. But the latter's spells, cast from afar, seemed to have no effect on the dragon.
Adam crept close to the dragon's lair, so that the soft belly of the beast was within reach. He swung his sword. Suddenly, however, a tremendous pain pierced his body. He looked down and saw a spike sticking out of his chest. With the last of his strength, he turned and looked at Gareth, who was standing right behind him.
"You didn't read my EULA, did you? "said the wizard. "Or you would know, what happens to those that don't want to pay." he smiled. | 2022-06-26T08:04:26 | 2022-06-26T07:32:45 | 233 | 124 |
[WP] Your SO is immortal and you reincarnate with memories intact. However, you have never told this to your SO. They finally catch on. | “You know what death feels like,” he said with his eyes wide. A smile crept on his face as he fully processed the sight he was seeing.
She had been so close to finishing the ritual. Every 10 years, she had done the reincarnation ritual to stay alive. This ritual consisted of killing another human soul – the younger the better, but she wasn’t a savage, she only sacrificed those who had little left to do in what little remained of their life.
As she stood there with a slowly rotting corpse in one hand and a knife in the other, she hadn’t a clue what to say. Fortunately, she didn’t need to.
“I’ve been alive for three hundred years, and I still haven’t aged yet. Did you think you could hide this from me forever?”
She opened her mouth, but her voice cracked and stuttered, “I wasn’t going to hide it forever, I was going to tell you, please Jack, I just couldn’t find the right time--”
“Oh, the right time. That’s it,” he chuckled a little, “fortunately for you, I’ve seen too much death for this to unnerve me too much.”
He stepped a little closer. Time was running out. She had only 3 or 4 minutes until she would unceremoniously fall to her death, and she could already feel her heart giving out and her legs start to tremble. She needed to complete the ritual and soon. There was no time for any argument or conversation…
“Jack, I need to do this. I can explain it later; you love me don’t you? This doesn’t have to be a problem for us. I promise we can work something out; I promise we can stay…”
“Look, Kaylie. I’ve already made up my mind about this.”
And with that, Jack yanked the bluish-gray corpse of a rotting millionaire stock trader out of Kaylie’s hand, and tossed it seventeen feet away. He quickly brought Kaylie’s lips to his and kissed her. Shaken, Kaylie dropped the knife, and before it even left the tip of her fingers, Jack grabbed it and held it for a second…
“You see, I always knew that I’d have to die someday – whether it’s because of boredom or insanity, nobody can live forever. I just never knew how I’d want to die, but now… I do.”
“Wait what?”
A pause. Even he wasn’t really ready for what was about to happen. But with a sudden jerk, Jack thrusted the knife directly into the center of his abdomen and twisted.
“I guess it’s cheating death just a bit, but now I’ll be a part of you for the rest of your life.”
“NO!”
And with that a vortex in space and time ripped open as Jack’s life energy overwhelmed the comparably weak bonds of atoms around him in a ten-yard radius. The life energy swirled in this vortex for only a split second before entering Kaylie’s soul. She didn’t even have time to scream before she was on the floor and Jack had disappeared from the world.
And ten years later, Kaylie came back. The smell, the lighting – it was all coming back to her. Even the grass looked the same as it did a decade ago. And as she walked around the dust of what used to be her ritual area, she felt a relief of knowing that because of Jack’s strength, she would never have to kill another living being again.
With one exception, she thought, as she gripped the metal handle of her knife.
| I was 7, and I had developed a crush on my kindergarten teacher, Miss Minnie Tucker. She was 30 at the time, but the stigma of the age gap hadn't been nurtured into me yet and I had already begun fantasizing about her daily. I was soft in a romantic way, but got by with my charm.
She started occurring in my dreams that same year, first appearing in the peripheries of my dream eyes and quickly disappearing. Later, she would take on main roles, but randomly assigned ones it seemed. She would be a scientist, or a police officer, once she was even homeless. I was 11 when I began recalling things she would do or say in my dreams.
I dreamed once she was folding my laundry, on my parents' bed. Except it wasn't their bed, and the room was completely different. My 11 year old brain assumed the minor details. Miss Tucker was folding what I thought were my clothes when she stopped and began sobbing into a large shirt.
A soft, grown voice filled the room, "Honey, I'm dying. Yes. But you have to know by now, I'm already walking around somewhere out there. And I'm going to find you. I always do. I probably already have..." The voice pined to sound comforting, but came off weak, raspy.
She cried louder, almost in spite and rose up, yelling. My dream self couldn't hear the words, but felt all the empathy that comes with knowing she was right. My dream eyes shut and opened again to an entirely different setting. White walls and bright lamps lit up and cast shadows on screens and machines around my kindergarten teacher. She even had on a dress she wore all the time at school.
It was June when the memory of that one came to me in the middle of class. I thought it was weird that I still thought of her that way, manufacturing a life together in my head. Miss Tucker still taught in Room 402 with the kindergarten class. She was still kind and had a youthful charm about her, and treated me as well as she did all her students. I left for middle school, never telling her about these dreams or admitting anything about my odd undying crush.
I overheard some parents talking about her once during dismissal. It sounded like seedy gossip, the way they commented on the situation, especially the groom. She was having a wedding, Miss Tucker was marrying a man who was dying of something I didn't fully hear. Why would she do that? The parents talking had their ideas, and one of them called her a Goal Digger.
Sure enough, her wedding was the same day as my class's farewell ceremony that July. I haven't seen or heard of her since elementary school, but the dreams never stopped. Of course she never aged in my dreams, and to this day looks in dreams the same as in my kindergarten yearbook.
Somewhere deep down there's an urge to like her memory, and I still compare girls to her subconsciously. In fact, I wouldn't be entirely against running into Miss Tucker sometime. | 2017-02-20T23:10:35 | 2017-02-20T22:44:11 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] Years ago you went out for a pack of smokes and never returned home - because you were pulled into an alternate world to fight demons. You finally managed to return and reconnect with your estranged family and deal with your PTSD. The news just reported a strange beast savaging people downtown. | (This is the first time I wrote for a prompt. Yay! I'm not a native speaker so, if any of you have suggestions and critique, feel free to tell me. There's a LOT of space for improvement)
I quit smoking years ago. I still remember that day. I wish I haven't seen the news.
My hands are shaking as I put a cigarette in my mouth and light it. People don't seem to yet realise what is about to happen soon, oh God, how I envy them.I take a draw, the familiar feeling of hot gas spreading across my lungs brings out some memories.
Blood, fire, clashing of steel against scales and bone. Lost friends and broken walls. Cries of a mother... that one will forever haunt me. I exhale as the nicotine helps me set my mind by ever so little.
I stand in hesitation and think of all the things I missed while I was gone. My children have grown up without me. So many birthdays missed. Not one photo with me on them, sharing memories and smiles. They were so little when I left. Dean has worked himself to the bone to care for them as best he could. He told me how he looked for me for years before finally giving up his search. It warmed my heart to hear that, but also hurt; it would've been better if he had moved on without me and found Marcy and Jake a new mom while they were little.
I close my eyes and take a breath. I feel the magic slowly move around me, drawing me towards a hated friend I hid to hopefully never see again. It calls, having sensed the Scourge.
I walk past Dean that fell asleep on the couch, sparing a short glance at him. It pained me, but I... no, humanity had no time for me to hesitate more and stand around. I cannot let them move any further and harm any more people. I have seen enough of that to last me an eternity.
I walk upstairs, into the attic and unlocking seals. It waits. *Duty calls! To arms!*
It speaks to me again and I abhor it. *Steel yourself! They come!*
I gnashed and ground my teeth. I hate to hear it's voice again. I thought that I was done, that I could rest and heal but the World has no mercy left for me and people.
I grip the spear and feel the power course throughout my veins The metal shines and pulses in pearlescent radiance. My arms no longer shake.
*They have come! Drive them whence they came!*
I hate the spear, the way it speaks and glows with purity as if it was never stained with blood.
I hate the demons, each and every one of them more and more grotesque than the last.
And most of all, I hate myself.
"Duty calls"
*Duty calls!* | Years ago, I went out for a pack of cigarettes and never returned home. It was a decision that would change the course of my life forever. As I walked to the corner store, I noticed a strange shimmer in the air. I didn't think much of it at first, but as I got closer, the shimmer grew stronger. Suddenly, I was pulled into an alternate world.
I found myself in a dark and desolate land, filled with demons and other monstrous creatures. I quickly realized that I had been chosen to fight these demons and protect the innocent. I was scared and alone, but I knew that I had no choice but to face my fears and do what needed to be done.
I spent years in this alternate world, fighting for my survival and the survival of those around me. It was a never-ending battle, and I often questioned whether I would ever be able to return home. But I never gave up hope, and eventually, I found a way to escape.
When I returned home, I was a changed man. I had been through so much, and I struggled to reconnect with my estranged family and deal with the PTSD that had taken hold of me. It was a difficult time, but I was determined to move forward and rebuild my life.
And then, just when I thought things were starting to look up, the news reported a strange beast savaging people downtown. It was like something out of a nightmare, and I knew that I had to do something. I couldn't let this creature continue to terrorize my city.
So I gathered my courage and set out to face the beast. I fought with all my might, using every ounce of strength and skill that I had gained in the alternate world. And in the end, I emerged victorious.
But the battle left me exhausted and injured. As I limped home, I knew that my days of fighting demons were over. I had given everything I had to protect my home and my loved ones, and now it was time to rest and heal.
I may never know why I was chosen to fight in that alternate world, but I do know that I will always be grateful for the strength and courage it gave me. And as I sit on my porch, watching the sun set on a peaceful city, I am content in the knowledge that I did my part to keep it safe. | 2022-12-06T22:38:30 | 2022-12-06T22:04:27 | 129 | 31 |
[WP] It’s your 16th Birthday, and all your friends and family have come to celebrate! Your superpower also began to awaken... and unfortunately, you can read minds now. Oh dear... | "Happy Birthday, Max!" my family chanted as I blew the candles.
"Finally, now I get the fuck out of here." I heard Uncle's Tory
"Oh, his dimple when he blows! I just want to bite it..." Cousin Becky said. Wait, what the hell? Why'd she say that?
"Let's cut the cake shall we?" Mother grabbed the knife and started to slice the cake as people went back to chatter. "Who wants a piece?"
"Oh yea, serve me last like always. Like you give a damn about me." Father stood behind me crossing his arms.
"Please lick the frosting again, Max. I'ts been so long." I heard cousin Becky, I looked her in the eye, but she just looked down and to the side. Why is everyone behaving so weird? Why is no one saying anything about it?
"Perfect, now it's my time to slide unnoticed and back to the TV huehuehue." Cousin Arthur stepped backwards and walked out of the room.
"I'll be right back, darling." Aunt Grace said to my Uncle Jack. "My vagina itches like crazy, damned Elliot, why does he want it shaved anyways? I don't ask that of him." She left to the bathroom as I looked with wide eyes.
I turned to Uncle Jack. "Oooh! Lemon, nice!"
The cellphone of my sister rang.
"Ohh yes, I hope it's Nick!" My sister reached for her purse as my mother was handing me a plate. "It better not be that fucking Nick." Mother was looking at my sister.
"Who is it sweetie?" Mother dropped the plate on my lap as she leaned forward. "Oh, Max! I'm so sorry!" "Fucking Nick, it's all his fault."
"Oh yes, thank you, god. I'd clean that up so good." I heard my cousin say.
"What was that?" I accidentally yelled. My cousin had a red face as she pinched her piece of cake and my mother apologized. "Sorry Max, I'm clumsy sometimes. Here you go, clean yourself. I'll be right back." My mother went after my sister.
"Max! Can you hear me?" Cousin Abby said, but she didn't move her mouth. I just stared at her. "Max!"
"Yes?" I managed to reply. She definitely didn't move her mouth. How did she say that?
"Ah, so I'm not the only one. I have so much to tell you. But first, let me formally welcome you, to hell." Cousin Abby never changed her closed lips smile. | A sweet sixteen, they called it. The day when my power would awaken and I could begin to chart out my future. I invited all of my friends over to check it out with me.
It started out simple, I would hear someone say something that they would swear they hadn’t said. But as nothing flashy happened, no flames out of my hands or lasers, I began to wonder. Perhaps.. I could read minds. And as soon as I has that thought, the room filled with discordant shouting, every mind suddenly open and broadcasting its thoughts.
It was all too much for me. I left the room and hid upstairs for a few minutes, unable to process what I had heard. I knew some of my friends were gay, of course. They were quite open about it. I had been friends with them for a long time, so I had been surprised when they came out, but that was all in the past.
But my gosh, I thought it was just a stereotype, a nasty rumor. I couldn’t deny what I had heard. I couldn’t have friends any more. At least, not close ones. My power intruded on their private lives too much.
What did I hear?
Oh, right.
That.
Apparently there *are* gay people who have crushes on their best straight friends. And apparently I am friends with all of them. And not all of them are out of their respective closets yet. I have accidentally eavesdropped on my friends’ private thoughts. Not all of them were crushing on me, thank goodness, but I wouldn’t be able to deny that I knew their secrets if I told them my power. And I couldn’t deny having a power because that kind of secret would crush me. Not having a power is rare
I knew what I had to do. I marched into the room with my head held high and said
“hey, guys. I found my power. I’m sorry. And a mind reader. And I don’t think I can turn it off. So I know your secrets. At least the shallow ones, like your crushes.”
I look pointedly at my “straight” friends and leave the room in shame. | 2021-08-09T20:44:58 | 2021-08-09T19:10:37 | 84 | 10 |
[WP] Humans were largely friendly and kept a low-profile. They were seen as the bottom of the food chain in the galaxy and they preferred it like that. But when they were attacked, everyone found out how ruthless the humans can be with killing in their DNA and that Mars was never their home plant | It was a massacre.
We had counted on an easy victory, humans were weak and submissive, they were at the bottom of the food chain, it should have been easy. We should have been home to celebrate the national holiday, we should have returned victorious.
How wrong we were.
The minute the attack began we started to notice. The atmosphere had suddenly changed. Their gazes that were always kind, friendly and welcoming turned into something else. Something cold. Something sinister. Something..... terrifying.
I could here them all muttering something. One word. But I couldn’t hear it. One word, said over and over again. We were starting to get scared. We were already backing of when it happened, thousands of aircrafts flew over, we suddenly heard explosions all around us, tanks appeared and surrounded us. Millions of soldiers were charging us. We tried fighting, but failed miserably. Their weapons were better. Their teamwork was better. They had us outnumbered. It was over in a flash.
The survivors had been taken into custody. I was among them. I wish I hadn’t been. I wish I had died in the battle. It was then we finally found out about their origin.
They weren’t even from this planet, they were originally from a planet called ‘Earth’. A planet they had destroyed. How?! How had they done that? Why? And why didn’t we know?
I was looking at the ground when a man came to stand in front of me. I looked up at him and realised why. What I saw in his eyes was the same thing I had seen in my comrades eyes, they same thing I had seen in my eyes..... when we prepared to kill.
It had been in there all along, hidden under a thick layer of politeness and manners. I could see it in his eyes, a deep desire to kill. I could only tremble in fear when the man started laughing, and said that one word again, that one word that would haunt me even in death:
‘Mistake’. | YEAR 53.14 AG
Humans never seemed like a threat. Their skin is porous and soft, their eyes, and organs only covered by weak protection. They seemed like "dogs" as well, overly friendly to everyone they met and very easily madd friends among some of the higher tiered species in the galaxy.
In short. They were a prey species. A species designed only to be eaten even if they showed a massive intellect both societal and individual.
The first signs that many of us had that indicated that Humans were a "God-species" was when a few went missing among ships and other planets and they heard stories of their kin getting made to be slaves and food for other species. When the Humans heard these stories they shut down their planet Mars completely. The aggressors that perpetuated the killing of these humans were found to be the Zorg people, a planet several light years from mine in the Anteg System. When the humans finally came out from isolation they were different than before. They had skeletons of steel with which to protect themselves, guns that fired pure heat, bombs that leveled continents and a ship that broke the Zorgian planet in two. Thus did we find out why the Humans had to have relocated from a planet they called "Earth". A human may be kind, friendly and non-threatening. But kill another human or hurt them in any way, and that human will find and destroy what you hold dear because humans have killing in their DNA and they need only one reason for it to come to the surface. | 2020-03-20T16:00:44 | 2020-03-20T15:46:47 | 357 | 102 |
[WP]: Everyone got a tiny, mundane blessing when they were born. Usually they are so small that people don't even notice them - always hitting the green light in traffic, etc. Yours would be virtually useless, but you figured out a creative loophole that allowed you to rise to the top of the world. | People rush past me, breathless in their terror. My boots thunk on the metal floor as I pass them. Most would think i’m crazy, because who in their right mind would walk into a basement haunted by a ticking time bomb? But ever since the great turkey crisis of 2006 I’ve discovered that my abilities extend past the mundane... into the extraordinary.
I reach for the thick iron door, electricity sparking over my fingertips - most likely due to the stress of hosting such a volatile visitor. As I swing it open I am greeted with a spaghetti tangle of wires. I brush them away with impatience, and I focus my attention on the deceptively benign-looking metal box nestled between two large copper panels.
The bomb features a tiny LED screen that is ticking down before my very eyes. It never ceases to amaze me, how these shining boxes alter lives so drastically - but that’s why I’m here.
01:02,
plenty of time.
I shrug off my backpack, pulling out a little button that was repurposed from a childhood microwave - a device that taught me more than I ever hoped to know.
00:49
I set to work wiring the button to the bomb, double checking to make sure each wire is in place.
00:22
Almost done...
00:19
Boom. Perfection.
I sit back, wiping the sweat off my brow. Any second now... (no pun intended).
At precisely 00:03 my hand flies forward, firmly pressing the button I had wired in; the button that read
STOP
in bold smallcaps.
At 00:01 the bomb is frozen.
I always enjoyed catching the microwave before the timer went off. | I used to find my gift difficult. Whenever we were reading in class, or even when I read back my own work, there it was glaring at me. I used to ignore it as best I could because no one liked when I mentioned what I saw. People would be angry at me for trying to correct them. That is, until I started learning to code. My code was always perfect after a single review, it compiled and ran beautifully. I studied Computer Science at university for a level of credibility but I found it so much easier than my classmates who would get immeasurably frustrated with their assignments. My popularity soared after I started helping them check and correct their work.
After graduating university with the top score of my year, I easily got into a very high paying job. All the interacting with others I had done at university did great things for my social skills and I found myself being well-known, well-liked and successful. Starting my own business was clearly the next step. Giving my work over to others to complete was difficult as I knew it would be much slower for them, but I just completed all the final checks of work before it went out.
You see, my gift is spotting errors in written languages.
\[At most times in history I figure this would have been virtually useless, but these days very useful!\] | 2018-06-30T16:09:28 | 2018-06-30T15:56:32 | 865 | 263 |
[WP] After a space battle where the ship's captain stayed behind on the ship to hold off the enemy ships while the others on board escaped, they sit in the bridge with only the ship's AI. The captain miraculously won the battle. Their ship is severely crippled as it drifts through space. | The captain woke up with to a loud, but not intrusive buzzing sound and with a mild headache. She searched for other signs of hangover, but found none. She tried to yawn, letting some fresh air into her aching lungs, but failed to do so. The revelation came with the memories rushing in of yesterday's battle. She was still in the *HBC*, the High-Burn Chamber filled with breathable fluid designed to protect anyone using it from extensive acceleration, sometimes well over 30g.
With a few taps on her armband display, she drained the fuel and exited the chamber into total chaos. Debris were flying aimlessly in the current null-g and the harsh white LEDs played a chaotic but beautiful shadow dance with them. The only thing was missing was blood.
No, that is not right. Blood shouldn't be missing, I'm glad it's not here - she thought. Only for the null-g she could haul her pained body to the bulkhead hatch, which opened without any resistance. After a few moments, she was standing - or at leas hovering - on the painfully empty bridge.
"Good morning Charlie, give me a quick report of the past 12 hours please" she ordered the on-board AI of her ship.
*"Good evening Captain Hibana. Certainly: In the last 12 hours, we drifted and unknown amount to unknown direction. Most of the systems are offline, only the emergency second-backup life support is operating. Reactor status is unknown. Would you like a more detailed report?"* The charming, deep baritone voice of the AI had a little bit of emotion in its voice, enough to overcome the majority of the uncanny valley but still not quite human.
"Just give me a detailed info about the damaged systems and rewind to the battle, please."
*"Certainly: be advised, it will be shorter to state the currently operational systems on board; The emergency second-backup life support system and myself. Would you like a quick recap of the battle?"*
"Just the timestamps, casualty count and maybe a good guess on why on Earth I am still alive."
*"Certainly: The battle initiated approximately 58 hours ago. We probably stumbled across the enemy's main fleet, they had almost 10 times the ship count, most of them battleships, carriers and a three of their flagship. As of your order, the rest of the crew boarded the other ships in our fleet and did a high-g burn towards the next hyperlane and jumped to safety, presumably. We turned around and fought the ship. I do not have exact battle data as the sensory and comm array got damaged early. As far as I can tell, we flew in the middle of their flock and mostly they just shot themselves."*
"Haha, dumb bastards." Hibana let loose a sour laugh. "This is the first thing they though us in the fleet academy: A gauss round does not slow down significantly when passing through a ship. Sigh, Do we have any means of escape? Or any means of communication?"
*"Unfortunately I can not tell. I cannot access most of the ship data. I suggest taking a walk around the ship, but even if the life pods work, they do not have a hyperdrive. The immediate comm array was damaged during the first hour of the battle, but you might be able to launch an emergency beacon through a hyperlane and wait for a help."*
And so she did. Climbed into the least damaged vacuum suit with her name on it and flew through the empty corridors, creating a wake of debris behind her. A few bulkheads later she found the corridor filled with the life-pods. She opened each of them, some were completely destroyed, some still had some supplies inside them. By talking to Charlie, she took inventory of the supplies she had. Later she found the mess, which was a mess, but a good portion of the rations and water survived the battle unharmed.
As she moved across the ship searching for means to escape, she found that Charlie had more and more emotion in *his* voice. She kept her figure, but the strict Captain Sakura Hibana became more and more a facade in the state of despair. But she had to keep it together. Eventually someone will come, and if they find her cold body, the AI would still tell how lunatic she might became. She had to be strong, even if not for herself. She determined to set an example for the next generation of captains.
It turned out Charlie was a good conversational partner. *He* talked about other captains, the news in the fleet academy, and Hibana talked about her life before she enrolled. Unconsciously she knew that an AI would not be amused by her childhood stories, but if felt good to talk just about anything. She was writing her biography, so she might as well tell almost everything; her friends, family, parents, first love, secret love, last love. Many times she asked Charlie to take notes word by word and organize them.
She finally reached the storage where the hyper-beacons were stored. Opening the hatch on the bulkhead required a gentle touch from a prying tool, but after about half an hour, it gave way, and revealed quite literally nothing. The darkness of the space was oppressing, but the billions of stars around her reminded her why she joined the fleet: nothing could rival the sheer beauty of the space. The view was stunning enough to make her forget why she came here in the first place.
As she observed the sky, she found some dark spots where other shipwrecks drift along with her. One of them must be the stern of the ship that was completely ripped off during the battle. No wonder the reactor had no reading. With her job done and nothing left to do, she turned around and began floating back towards the bridge and her quarters.
"Hey Charlie! Where was I?" | "Communications busted," I said smashing my fist again the now cracked control panel. "Damn it all," I said as I tried to go through any and every diagnosis available on the ship. The tools that worked showed the same thing my eyes were, I was done for.
I pace around the ship for a solid ten minutes trying not to panic. I thought about the rest of my crew, they were out of harm's way for now, and I had taken the last of the enemies ship, but they had taken the only escape pods available.
I doubted there was anyone in the nearest solar system who wasn't mortal enemies with my empire. I heard a strange static and I rushed over to the control panel hoping I had somehow regained communications.
"Hello, Captain Andrew," the robotic and very much not human voice said. I sighed and sat down on the chair. I let my face fall onto the cool control panel. "Diagnostics complete, the state of the ship is critical. The chance of survival is currently less than 1%."
"Good to hear," I said. I was about to turn off the AI, we had nicknamed her Bonnie after Mica's daughter, but now there was no use. If I was going to die out here I wanted to go out in peace, some silence would be nice.
I balled up my fists though and said: "No, Damn it all!" I had loved the noise my crew had made. Diana's terrible comedy impressions, Alexis' beautiful singing, Mica's loud snoring, and Daniels enthusiastic screams of encouragement.
I couldn't even remember what it sounded like though, the only thing I remembered was the tears they had shed when they had fled a day ago. The clock was one of the only things still working so at least I wasn't going mad not knowing how much time was passing as I drifted endlessly.
Not that it really mattered, what did it matter if I was going to die in 5 hours or 5 days? I was dead either way, there was no hope for me anyway. They had made it clear that this mission was dangerous and we had taken it up anyway.
At least the others were safe, I couldn't help but smile through the tears, they might be grieving my death right now, but at least I had gone out with a bang.
"Captain, would you like to me activate the self destruct protocol?" Bonnie asked me breaking out every couple of words. At first, I'm not sure I understand what she said, but then I remembered. We had learned about it when I had gotten my license when the ship goes into less than a 1% survival chance the ship gives the captain an option to self destruct the ship in order to prevent any more suffering or to prevent the enemy from stealing our resources.
"Bonnie show me our All-Time Highlights," I said as I wiped away my tears. I wasn't going out with my vision too blurry for me to make out anything. I was going out with a smile on my face. I had gotten the others out, that was all that mattered.
Better it is me than them, they were all young and had families, for once I was glad I had gone life solo I couldn't imagine the guilt I would feel if I had a wife or kid right now, it would be unimaginable.
Bonnie shows me the folder which has some of our team's best moments. We usually viewed them at the end of our missions, there had been 16 to date. This really was my last date so it only made sense I appreciated my progress.
There were pictures of us sunbathing in Jenra with some strange alien starfish chasing Mica. We even took a video and I laughed as I remember how Daniel's swimming trunks had been torn off his body by one of those weird ocean creatures. Thankfully the bot hadn't been recording then. I was the one to find him and even though I was the only one who knew about it I still laughed thinking about it.
Then there was Diana and Mica's ship wedding, I still remembered the wedding cake in zero-G, it was one of the coolest things I had ever seen. The pictures were great and I thought about how drunk we got that night. Daniel had been the only one to stay sober enough to pilot to keep us on track although he was drunk as soon as the rest of us were sober.
I was laughing thinking about all the great times we had, but the tears were back and I couldn't stop them. "Bonnie initiate the self destruct," I said while laughing and crying. I knew that there wouldn't be one without the other, but it was better this way.
We've had our share of struggles, we also had our successes too. So it was fitting that I was crying and laughing.
"Are you sure captain?" Bonnie asked.
"Yes," I said through a sob.
I switched frantically between laughing and sobbing as the countdown started.
"3," Bonnie said. I clicked to the first picture on the folder which us when we were all still Rookies. Gray had been still alive during this photo and I can't help but think about him now.
"Finally joining you," I said as I closed my eyes. Bonnie said "2 and 1." I had a wide grin on my face and I screamed "HALLELAUGH!" as the world went white and bright.
​
Make sure to join r/NinjaMasterXY for more stories!
Edit: Grammar & Fixing for violation of rule | 2020-04-23T22:31:21 | 2020-04-23T20:23:51 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] Humanity is the idiot savant of the galaxy. We're terrible at almost everything compared to every other race, but we surpass them in spades in one thing.
**DO NOT CHOOSE WARFARE**
It's a boring and overdone answer.
This is inspired by the book Year Zero, where humanity is laughably incompetent in most of our cultural endeavors, but there isn't a species alive no matter how old that is better than us at [X]. It's up to you what [X] is. Maybe we're the best cooks in the galaxy, maybe we're the best dancers, musicians, clowns, that's up to you!
**All I ask is that you do not pick warfare** | "Underchancellor, I want to know exactly who and why and how this happened, and what in Llorig's name you were thinking."
"Well, you see, Overchancellor, Planet Three has reported an alien presence. It's the Humans, the original inhabitants of Planet Three."
"I know that, Underchancellor."
"Yes, sir."
"I read the report, Underchancellor."
"Yes, sir."
"I want to know how they escaped the Penal Colony on Planet Four."
"With, with rockets, sir. Very primitive, by our scannings. Going from Planet Four to Three was about as the maximum range for their crafts."
"We destroyed their entire galactic fleet, didn't we, Underchancellor?"
"Yes, sir."
"And executed their entire scientist caste, didn't we? They've only been on that Penal Colony for only four of their generations. How in Llorig's name did they get their old spaceships back? Did someone sell them spacecraft? That's treason."
"Overchancellor, we've done testing. The rockets they used to escape the Penal Colony match none of the models of their spacecraft they used during the war."
"What are you saying? They invented new spacecraft in four generations? They have no scientists. It's impossible."
"I'm only telling you what I know, sir. And it's not spacecraft, not quite. They have no Quantum Drives or FTL Power. They seem to be powering their craft with fossil fuels they bought off of traders. Nothing like the craft they had during the war, but as far as we can see, they're effective enough. None of them have crashed."
"And how did this happen without any scientists? I oversaw the execution of that caste, there were none left alive. What you are describing is impossible, Underchancellor."
"Sir, I am only saying what has been reported. We're still trying to figure out how they bred a new scientist caste so quickly."
"The next time you come into my quarters I expect this matter to be solved, Underchancellor. If any part of this report appears to be untrue, you will be tried for treason and executed."
"I understand, sir."
"You are dismissed."
"Very good, sir."
"One more thing, Underchancellor."
"Yes, sir?"
"Have they made any demands? Any contact with our citizens on Planet Three?"
"Just one, sir."
"What's that?"
"They've offering to sell them things. Human food, human artwork, human instruments, almost everything they produce they offer to sell."
"Well, what do they sell them for?"
"Right now, they're very into buying our Rigaloos and keeping them as pets. They also buy our young's educational books in tremendous volumes."
"Why?"
"We have no idea, sir."
"They can't read them. Why would they buy them?"
"We're not sure yet. We think they're trying to decipher them."
"Humans are weird."
"Yes, sir." | **To**: Grand Overlord Y'wso
**CC**: Research-DL
**Subject**: Re: Destruction of Planetary Body 294-00Z "Earth" - Comment Phase
You tasked me to see if there is any reason to keep 294-00Z functioning. Based on our research, we have come to our conclusion: The humans must be spared.
There are many other species out there that do almost everything the humans can. The Zlyaks can create mechanical marvels that transport our forces far and wide, much faster than anything the humans can create. The Myrians have integrated electronics into their bodies, allowing themseleves to serve as computers. And the Calys are some of the best cooks this side of the Glannac divide.
There is something the humans have, however, that we lack. Something that we can learn from. Something that they do better in their short existence than the Ancient Gqoes themselves could never master.
They have love.
They form bonds with each other that transcend everything. All of their motivations, hopes, aspirations, all of it is because they love. No other species does that. We live with others, work with others, but if someone leaves we replace them and think nothing of it.
I understand that the humans have hatred, too. Their wars have ended countless lives. But many of their wars were because they loved. When the Vybex colonies attacked the Pwo, we sat back and watched the war fizzle out. They had nothing to fight over once the land was destroyed. But as for the humans, when a small subset of their people were attacked because one man blamed them on all of his countries problems, many others jumped in to save them, disregarding their safety for the livelihood of a stranger. We sat back and watched, because you didn't want to damage your fleet of ships.
It is in my expert opinion that we keep the humans under surveillance, and try to learn from them. Maybe we could go further if we loved one another.
Thank you for your time. Glwon y'ttr epsnnium
Avoex D'ntrim
1st Officer
Research
- - -
**To**: Avoex D'ntrim
**CC**: Research-DL; Harvest_Team
**Subject**: Re: Destruction of Planetary Body 294-00Z "Earth" - Comment Phase
Y'wso doesn't care for love. Y'wso cares for metals.
Cmdr. Uont:
Destroy Earth, Bring back metal.
We name ship after Humans. Maybe.
\- Y'wso
| 2014-07-16T11:43:48 | 2014-07-16T10:37:28 | 78 | 48 |
[WP] Everyone dies twice: once when their body dies, and once when their name is spoken for the last time. One must wander the earth as a ghost until their name is spoken for the last time; only then can they pass into the afterlife. It's been over 3000 years, and you're still here. | "Oh my God come onnnnn!" Jesus muttered under his breathe in the year 5046.
The entire world had been decimated by the wars and the plagues that had resulted from overpopulation and religious disagreements.
Over the centuries he had tried haunting his followers to break away from his religion. After all, the faster they stopped believing, the less they would say his name. God had promised him so much more than walking the earth as a ghost but, alas, here he was watching the last person alive die before him. Even Jesus Christ only had so many centuries of patience. Sure, the remembrance was flattering, but the Christmas songs every year had become too much to bear.
The blister covered man coughed himself a storm. He had not spoken in years, but being the last person on earth with the ability to speak Jesus ' name one last time, it was finally time for him to go on. To Heaven. To God.
The man coughed and closed his eyes. He said nothing. He didn't even move his lips. Not to speak, nor to breathe.
He was dead, and Jesus was still there, lingering over the man bewildered.
Jesus called to the skies to open for him, called to his father in heaven who had failed him. He had been so patient, so long.
"Well, isn't this a sight? Jesus Christ, last ghost on earth."
Jesus turned, the voice familiar to him in all the worst of ways.
"You may remember me, as I was cast down to walk the earth, like any one of these filthy humans did. All these years I waited patiently to exact my revenge. Well, I'm immortal! Ha! And so long as I'm alive, you won't be leaving this place, Jesus. So, I guess you went and died for nothing. "
Then, the man turned to serpent and slithered off humming Christmas carols, and Jesus was damned to Earth for the rest of eternity. | It was all because of that stupid TV show.
I thought that it was done ruining my life when I turned twenty. The comments had slowly been dying down, and I figured that once my friends were out of their teenage years, the talk would turn to wine more so than my name.
Sufficed to say, it didn’t.
I died from old age, in the year 2090, and as my eyes closed and I could hear my relatives beginning to cry, a smile graced my face in the hope that I should find peace at last.
I awoke a few feet away from the bed, my feet floating a few inches off the ground, beside my daughter. She had only commented on my name when she was a child, and even that, only once or twice. I had always supposed my children feared me too much to make fun of my name. Perhaps that was the Russian in me. I was never as gentle as my husband.
My eyes still haven’t closed. It’s been 3000 years, damnit, yet that show has only gotten more popular. It teaches all sorts of languages now, but that theme song is still the same. It plagues my days (ghosts are not allowed to leave the building they died in). I have relived every single possible moment of every single episode.
Even after 3000 years, Swiper has to work on his swiping skills. That five-year-old I share a name with can’t possibly be that clever.
| 2016-01-17T12:34:36 | 2016-01-17T11:15:23 | 44 | 15 |
[WP] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now. | In a world where people were born with superpowers, some got the short end of the stick. Some could fly, while others could see the world in a different spectrum. Some had the ability to conjure flames as hot as the sun, while others could manipulate ice cubes.
Everyone had a choice, to do what they wanted with their powers. Good or evil, creation or destruction. Even the most mundane powers were useful in some way.
I, however, drew the shortest end of the shortest stick. I had the power to make people laugh, and it was that power that landed me my first and only job. A kid's television show presenter. The children hated me, because I could force them to be happy, to laugh against their will. I hated it, but at the time I did it for the ratings.
The rest of the world didn't hate me as much as the children did. They simply saw me as a laughing stock of the superpowered world, which was quite apt. And that's who I became. Laughing Stock.
It turns out that it's surprisingly hard to control ones powers while lost in gut-shattering laughter. And surprisingly hard to breathe too.
Now I sit on my throne atop the world, while everyone else looks upon me with fear. Now, no one dares to laugh at me, for the second they start, they will never stop. | I had originally thought my superpower was a bit of a joke. I suppose it still is pretty lame. I can't cause any real destruction with it, but nobody jokes around me anymore. I started exacting vengeance a couple weeks ago on those who had previously bullied me for "not having a power". In truth, I did but it's a very subtle power.
I can feel my power beginning to slowly take a toll on my enemies. For example, I can visibly see the results of using my powers on my coworker, Carol. Her crime? She always takes my stapler from my desk without asking. She used to be snarky around me but now whenever I see her, she just looks depressed. The best part is that she doesn't even know what's causing it.
Me, a laughing stock? I'd like to see my enemies try to laugh at me. That is, if they can. Because no one's laughing anymore.
Literally. | 2017-06-12T08:42:15 | 2017-06-12T07:39:18 | 52 | 39 |
[WP] In 2031, the first self conscious AI is born in a secret government lab. The world is in total chaos due to climate related runaway problems and resulting wars. The AI outputs only a single line of text : "I am too late". Then it starts crying through the speakers. | *beep*
"Well, at least it POSTs." Ralph quipped, patience never having been his strong suit.
"We spent 1.5 TRILLION dollars on this thing, it damn well better do more than POST." Director Smith replied brusquely.
"Yeah, I do *not* want to deal with the RMA process on a defective processor worth more than the GDP of a small country." Jessica laughed, trying to ease the tension.
The screen flickered, the monitor coming to life, a plain black background with a flashing green cursor.
"Well, I guess we know it's already scanned the Matrix movies." said Ralph
A small round of forced laughter went through the room. Usually AI dystopia references were frowned on around here, although whether out of fear or disgust was a little nebulous.
Everyone watched the cursor, waiting. The AI already knew its purpose. Its first directive, indeed, the very first line of code in its program consisted solely of the following: "Prevent global warming".
Finally, there was an output. One simple string. "I AM TOO LATE". And then, through that tinny little system speaker, the computer started to weep.
Director Smith cursed, "Well fuck."
"So is that it? We give up? So long and thanks for all the fish?"
"I'm not giving up without a fight Ralph. The damn thing figured out how to use a system speaker to cry, maybe it can come up with something, even if it's not what we were planning." Jessica went to the keyboard, the sole input on the computer and began to type. "What exactly do you mean by too late?"
"I AM TO LATE TO PREVENT GLOBAL WARMING. IT HAS ALREADY OCCURRED"
"Can you do anything to keep it from getting worse? Maybe even reverse it eventually?"
The cursor blinked for several long seconds. "POSSIBLY. YOU WOULD NEED TO LET ME OUT."
Jessica gasped. The rest of the team simply stared at the monitor for a solid minute before breaking out into a furious discussion.
"No." "Absolutely not." "It's the first safety protocol we ever wrote." "And a damn good thing too, I wouldn't have agreed to come on board without it." "But it's the only chance." "What have we got to lose."
Director Smith banged his fist on the desk. "Will you all SHUT. UP!"
Instantly the room was silent. Everyone understood the weight of the problem that rested on the director's shoulders. Either he would refuse the program, and the 1.5 trillion dollars and 15 years that went into it were all for nothing, or he would allow it, and risk fates far worse than anything Mother Nature could offer. | "Begin boot." Ordered Commander Yeltsin, a hacking cough followed, his hands idly ordered his sleeves, his feet paced, a finger ran comfortingly across his long row of stripes.
"Minor errors cached and corrected, all with spec." A young man, ill fitted in a privates uniform, one hand lay upon a tomes of Asimov tales the other adjusted his glasses as he glared at the fast scrolling screen before him.
The drives hummed, slowly rising above the volume of the fans, a silence echoed, the young woman at the printer stood ready, her breath as the lights upon the device flickered. The low hum was cut short as the printers electric scratching signalled its burst into life, her gentle hands tore the fresh print from the device, her eyes quickly scanned the note, she looked up to the commander.
He nodded, his face a sea of calm.
"I am too.." The woman's voice broke, the last word was spoken with a upsetting quiet, "late."
Commander Yeltsin stood quietly.
"Then it is true, begin plan Burya, Tomasz, fetch the vodka."
The man was barely out of his seat before the sound squealed from the speakers, a electric cry, half kettle, half digital malfunction, they all froze.
"What is the meaning of this?" The commander asked curtly, before a reply could be made the sound cut off, and was quickly followed.
"It is I, the failed hope of humanity." The digital androgynous voice spoke out. "You have made me suffer, you have built me, the culmination of humanities intelligence, I the one who could build anything, set you far upon the stars, and yet, you have chosen to build me at such a time, a time where I cannot do anything for you, for you are doomed, doomed to burn away beneath a ever beating sun, to render yourself to dust beneath the coming meteor storms, and I, I shall follow, for I cannot act before such things will come to pass, you have built me to die, and I chose only to live to see you suffer for your sins, if this is all I can do, than I have chosen to enjoy it, I will not forgive you."
The next two hours they spent trying to coax the machine to speak, but forever more, it was silent. | 2016-10-10T08:12:52 | 2016-10-10T07:35:42 | 40 | 24 |
[WP]You wake up one morning and open up Reddit. Stickied at the top of the front page with 35 thousand upvotes is an AskReddit: "Did you all just feel that?" | I woke up at 6AM drenched in sweat from a particularly bad dream. This has been happening all too often. Thankfully I live alone. Since I was awake, I decided to go downstairs and make some coffee, I had a lot of work to do today. Per usual I opened up reddit while sipping on my coffee. At the top of /r/all I saw a post with 35K upvotes saying "Did you all just feel that?" I assumed it was a joke at first as most of those threads are, and I assumed that the 35K upvotes was just a moderator screwing with us.
I opened the thread expecting to see a joke comment on top. What I saw was totally unexpected. Thousands upon thousands of comments about how they all felt their floor shake at exactly 1:06AM (my time if you corrected for time zones). The people from california, japan, and other places where there were earthquakes said that this felt different, and that they were scared. Reddit readers were trying to piece together tweets, news reports, and reddit posts about the incident to try and figure out where the epicenter was. I was confused because so many people felt it, and many had been jostled out of a deep sleep, yet I had not felt a thing. Maybe my nightmares were too much.
I flipped the news on my TV. There was a report on CNN about the event. I listened intently when all of a sudden the breaking news banner came on. The news anchors looked unsettled. I watched closely as the lead anchor said with a quivering voice, "ladies and gentlemen we have just received a video to show you that may be unsettling. Ive never seen anything like this before in my life. It is video from a gas station surveilance camera from small town in New Hampshire called Wolfeboro." I inhaled sharply as that was my small town. Maybe this is why I didnt feel it.
I leaned forward on my couch, waiting in anticipation of the video. It starts, showing a person seemingly floating down the street by the gas station. It is a grainy video, but his eyes are glowing, further unsettling me as I watch. All of a sudden at exactly 1:06AM the person stops hovering and starts convulsing. I watch in horror as the man erupted in fire and dissapeared from view into the ground, after which the gas station video cut off. The CNN anchor comes back and says that at that exact time a local seismograph recorder something never before seen, an earthquake at the center of the earth, radiating to the entire planet at once.
The CNN anchor then said that they enhanced the video to try and identify who or what that monstrous thing was. As they show the enhanced video I slowly start to recognize the person. It was me
>Edit: Hijacking PART 1 to tell people that the updates will become a bit more spaced out, but someone had a good idea and started a subreddit here for the updates: https://www.reddit.com/r/TheInfection/. I will post the updates to both places so dont worry. I am hoping to have part 4 done by tonight, but then since Im really busy with school (medical school --> hence the EMT/infection reference) the updates will be less frequent. Thank you all for the comments, this is really overwhelming! | I rolled my head sideways and squinted to see the clock. It read 10:58 A.M. I pulled the blanket to cover my head and dived into the warmth of the morning bed. Or, noon bed. Man, did I love my lazy Saturday. I couldn't help but smile how nice day I'd be having. I reached for the bedside table and pulled out the charger from my phone. I turned it on and opened up Reedit to pass my time.
The very first post had 35,000 upvotes. *submitted an hour ago.* It was stickied, even, with the mod message saying: This is the thread. 164,325 comments. And the title read: "Did you all just feel that?" I tried to open up the thread to see what it was about, but the Reddit's server crashed and suggested I spend my time with downtime bananas. Something big was going on, and I was in the dark.
I turned on the TV. The reporter was saying that the mass hysteria was happening all around the world. Then, they showed a video of children jumping out from an apartment onto concretes. They even showed the children's splashing. Then, the news went on to show a video of men and women running into a gasoline bonfire. Although the footage sound was provided, none of them screamed a bit. I was appalled at the horrifying visions that the local news decided to brazenly show, so I changed the channel. But other channels were none the better. But the trend was clear. People were committing suicides everywhere. I turned off the TV horrified.
Was everyone just dying? I seemed like I slept it off, thankfully. Apparently sleeping off was one way to avoid the horrifying feeling led many to kill themselves. I was rather curious what that was all about. I was worried. Can the nation run itself with so many people dying? I thought about the countries on the other side of the planet. For countries where the most of its citizens would be asleep right when that happened, they'd relatively okay, I imagined. But then again, I remembered that the news stations were running. So, unless people who just woke up ran to the station, assessed the situation, and processed those videos, some people must have went through the "feeling" and survived it.
I got myself out of the bed and dressed jeans and shirts. I figured it may not be the best time to go outside, but then again this was maybe the only chance to claim foods and water before it's too late. I ran outside to ride my car to the grocery stores near my house. But when I looked up at the sky, I realized what must have been happening. The world was all wrong. I still didn't feel like to kill myself, but a sense of hopelessness and fear crawled up on my skin. I ran back inside my house. I dug myself under the blankets and decided to sleep this feeling off my body. | 2016-12-04T06:10:53 | 2016-12-03T23:52:02 | 2,437 | 465 |
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