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] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear old friend,
I saw something that made me think of you the other day. And sometimes I think of you for no reason at all.
I want to talk to you, but I know there’d be no point. I wonder what you’re up to, but I don’t ask.
Because we have both changed so much since then, or maybe we haven’t changed at all. But something’s changed, and we both know that things can never be as they were. We could make an attempt at a conversation, but it will only make us feel more distant from where we used to be.
So I won’t talk, and I won’t ask, but I want you to know that I keep you in my thoughts and in my heart.
Because even though it’s run its course, and even though I don’t want to rekindle it, that friendship will stay precious to me.
Love,
A stranger you once knew like the back of your hand | To my oldest friend,
It seems we have nothing much to say to each other when we meet. Our conversations are prompt and direct. We no longer share secrets or take an interest in the other's life.
It is a sullen and disheartening realization that we are not who we were ten, twenty years ago.
I miss the days of doing nothing with you.
You know I will always love you and consider you my brother. I hope to talk to soon.
| 2017-11-06T03:25:39 | 2017-11-05T23:46:31 | 23 | 15 |
[WP] You live in a society where justice is truly blind. The judge and jurors are not allowed to know the name, gender, race, religion, or appearance of the defendant. | The still of the night was suddenly marred by the thumping of the battering ram on the front door. On the second smack, the door opened with a crash. The neighbor's dog barked. Police swarmed into the house, guns at the ready.
In just a few efficient minutes, two cops dragged a handcuffed young man out of the battered front door. The man wore a Flash tee shirt and shorts. His feet were bare. He blinked the sleep from his startlingly blue eyes, just beginning to process what was going on.
"Take me instead!" his mother cried out from the house. Tears streaked down her face. Three policemen were restraining her. She was surprisingly strong for her size. It was the strength of a mother protecting her cub.
"You know that's not how this works, ma'am," one of the cops said. He tried to be as gentle as he could as the mother flailed in his arms. He had a son too.
The handcuffed man was put into the back of an idling police car. He was Justin Wren, 22, a graduate student. Soon, he would simply be Juror Number 5.
The police car sped off. Its ultimate destination was the courthouse where Justin would serve jury duty. But first, it would take him to the hospital where Justin's eyes would be removed.
After all, justice was blind. | It was said in times of old, that who you are affected the outcome of the trial.
For this reason, the screens and methods that once only protected the witnesses now are also employed to shield the defendants. In fact, given that the jury are not allowed to see the defendant, very often they are kept in the cell and the whole trial is conducted over the telephone.
There were questions about a reduction in conviction rates due to witnesses not being able to identify the defendant. Improvements in cctv coverage, facial recognition and mandatory id cards has by now made that point moot - people no longer needed to id the suspect, computers did that.
Complaints have been made, but as prisoners have limited communication rights, they have diminished to a whisper of what they once were. After all, who in their right mind would ever listen to id holder 24601.
| 2015-09-06T01:27:55 | 2015-09-05T23:56:25 | 156 | 15 |
[WP] Most races we had conquered were much more advanced than humans, having mastered the atom, created hard-light and built Dyson Spheres by the time humans had built their first boat. The humans, however, mastered one science that made them a nightmare for us. Slinging lumps of metal very fast. | Status report: 14th Fleet losses for the last seventeen rentars.
Originating officer: Untarh Gorjach second in command of the supply ship Sytars Sibling.
Current fleet status: Barely operational.
Enemy fleet status: Unknown.
Reason Protocol 646 breached: I am the highest ranking surviving officer. Therefore reporting duties have fallen to me.
Detail of report as per Protocol 873 requires.
The enemy has changed tactics again, seeming as they learn more about us and our capabilities. Our own attempts to compensate have met with limited results.
Before he died our chief tactician posited that the enemy may have learned many of the techniques currently being employed against us in some other conflict. Limited available data seems to have disproved this theory, as there are no civilizations close enough for them to have engaged in a war in the short time they have had faster than light drives. At least no civilizations advanced enough to have caused them any significant opposition. He may however been mentally unstable since when confronted with this information, he further posited the possibility the enemy had fought a war between themselves. This could not possibly hold any truth, since no race ever encountered has ever fought any sort of internal war.
He may not be the only one exhibiting signs of mental decay. Many among both crew and officers have become hypersensitive to sudden, unexpected noises. A dropped datapad in the mess hall recently resulted in several crew members diving under tables, and at least one officer jumping up with his sidearm drawn. The constant potential threat, and the unique form it has taken has also begun to severely impact morale. There has even been quiet mention of the possibility of losing the war. That is how bad things are getting, and the loss of the flagship and its escorts did nothing to improve the situation.
As to specific tactics, they have added several new methods to disrupt our orderly annexation of their system for the Collective. One of the most recent, and effective was using one of our own lost ships against us. Detecting a distress beacon, we went to investigate, being wary of any possible traps. However, no one considered the ship itself as the trap. As we approached to search, and possibly rescue any survivors, the ship exploded, damaging three nearby vessels and causing a catastrophic failure of the flagships antimatter containment fields. This in turn not only destroyed a sizable part of the flagship, but further damaged the already damaged escort vessels.
Nor was this loss of the flagship a coincidence. The limited investigation we had time to perform shows the enemy had somehow aimed a large part of the exploding ship, specifically targeting the flagship. Analysis of the remains shows chemical traces of some strange technology that might be being used instead of energy fields for propulsion.
Other attacks have continued to cause unexpected losses. Our shields can stop almost any form of energy, and render any possible assault from such a weapon ineffective, but what do you do if your enemy is smashing a constant barrage of physical objects into your hull? A suggestion to use countermeasures against the guidance systems of the projectiles met with failure and the realization they are completely unguided, other than at their point of origin. Many of them do not contain even rudimentary destructive devices, but rely on the kinetic energy their impact for damage. While it is sometimes possible to dodge some of the impacts, it is impossible to dodge them all, and the accumulated damage is overwhelming our damage control personnel.
There has even been several incidences of enemy ships slamming themselves into ours in apparent suicide runs. Only it wasn't suicidal, as the heavily reinforced enemy ships have not only caused us significant damage, but in at least two instances, split our ships in half. All without suffering anything but minor damage themselves. Almost as disconcerting as the attacks and their unlikely successes, is the noise during an attack. The impacts of each projectile echoing though the inside of our ships is a constant reminder that we are not invulnerable, something many were finding it difficult to come to terms with.
The last attack has been the worst however. Instead of outright destruction, one of their ships has fought in close enough to touch ours. They have deployed some kind of cables with their weapons that have anchored our vessels together. Despite the damage our energy weapons have done, the situation is grim. Our hull has been breached in multiple places, and an attack launched in what I think is an attempt to capture our ship. The captain died fighting in the corridors attempting to repel the invaders.
I have managed to make it to the communications room to prepare this missive. I don't have much time, or any hope of rescue. I have seen what our enemy has done to some of our crew members. I knew the enemy had a gravity on their homeworld seven times ours, but seeing what that does when they get their manipulators on us is horrifying.
As per Protocol 960 I am transmitting this last message on the last known status of the fleet.
Summation: Doomed.
Glory to the Collective.
Untarh Gorjach second in command of the supply ship Sytars Sibling
End Transmission. | With his tri digit appendages, Commander Glob Flob of the Rattle Empire picked up the data slate. The reports were anything but positive. Numerous engagements with the dreaded humans, and heavy casualties suffered from both sides. He threw the slate back on the table.
He was expected to give a campaign briefing to high command, but how could he? The war was an absolute mess. Moral was low among his troops and the humans kept finding new ways to fight back. They were resourceful little Gloobfloobs. That was to be sure.
One of the many buttons on the table pulsed a steady green light. An incoming call. It was time. He allowed the call to go through.
A nearby holo-vid flickered to life as the face of Supreme Commander Roob Roob filled the screen. He was a handsome bastard, Glob Flob had to admit. With aquamarine skin and the famed triple chin, Roob Roob was a model for what every Tmgaflorian aspired to be.
“Glob Flob! So nice to see you,” the Supreme Commander barked out, as was customary for a man whose very job it was to yell at others.
“And what an honor it is to have you bless our ship with your presence, o’great one. And, if I may ask, what is the reason for your delightful call?”
Roob Roob smiled at the flattery, the tips of his triple chin vibrating with pleasure. “Only that you inform me about the situation over at sector-5442. How goes your battle with the hoo-mans?”
“Humans.” Glob Flob dwelled on the word before continuing. “To be perfectly honest sir, our battle with the humans is not faring well.”
“Oh?” Roob Roob said. “Pray tell. They are class-3 primitives, no? We, a class-1b advanced, colonize such species with ease.”
“That may be so for prior cases,” Glod Flob conceded. “But these humans have a savagery to them that makes the Tearers looks like children.”
“Speak not of the Tearers! They make my stomach ache just at their mention. And these hoo-mans are even worse?”
“Yes. Their technological evolution has been highly unorthodox.”
“Explain.”
Glob Flob gathered his thoughts. “Most races we had conquered were much more advanced than humans, having mastered the atom, created hard-light and built Dyson Spheres by the time humans had built their first boat. The humans, however, mastered one science that made them a nightmare for us. Slinging lumps of metal very fast.”
“They don’t employ plasma-based weapons?”
“If that were the case our ships with their void shields, would have no issue with them. No, these savages take their pitiful evolutionary heritage and use physical projectiles.”
Roob Roob rolled his eyes. “Physical projectiles. How absurd.”
“The humans call their weapons a ‘rail-nail-her.’ I am uncertain as to why these savages attach one of their feminine words to the end, but I assume it is an honorific, similar to how we name our ships after great Tmgaflorian rulers. They have used the weapon to great effect against our fleet, tearing through ships and destroying supply depots.”
“Any solutions?”
“The most obvious one is to commandeer this technology for ourselves, but its barbarity is such that many crews will balk at its use.” The commander shivered. “Even I find such an solution distasteful.”
“Do it.”
“Sir?”
“Master the alien technology and use it against the humans.” Roob Roob smiled. “In the meanwhile, I will bring a portion of my fleet to your system to observe the situation.”
Oh dear, this was serious. Glob Flob had no choice but to bow his head. “Of course, that would be a great honor.”
“As it should be.”
“Anything we should do to prepare for your arrival, o’great one?”
“Yes, capture one of their weapon systems and have it ready to present to me when I arrive. I am curious how this ‘rail-nail-her’ works in practice.”
“Very well sir.”
"Lovely, till then!" The feed went silent.
Glob Flob sat alone at the table. Capturing a full weapons unit? This would either tip the war in their favor or be the start of barbarianims. Only time would tell which one it would be. | 2021-03-24T03:55:09 | 2021-03-24T03:29:18 | 87 | 39 |
[WP]2000 years from now, history is misunderstood and retold as a series of myths where nations are represented as individual gods,citizens as worshipers and corporations and NGOs as demons/angels(lesser gods).Chronicle current world crises in the style of ancient myths.
-Global warming
-colonization
-World wars
-cold war
-globalization
-ISIS
-space race
-nuclear deterrence(Mutually assured destruction)
-US intervention
-US vs china
-US vs russia
-the internet (as a powerful untameable beast perhaps)
Etc
| Professor Ao'Nesti peered into the cavernous monolith that was just uncovered at the excavation site.
"Han'Sungai, go fetch the light globes! Quickly! This might be the most important discovery in over a century!", he excitedly yelled at his assistant. "I think we found an intact temple filled with shrines and monuments!"
Han'Sungai quickly retrieved Professor Ao'Nesti's light globe, a stone sphere that is perpetually glowing a soft blue light.
The Professor stepped into the temple cautiously, ever vigilant for bobby traps or ancient curses. As his eyes adjust, he knew that this excavation will be forever chronicled in the history books. An intact temple with endless rows of shrines, each with offerings and artifacts to the ancient gods.
To his left, he see blue cans stacked up high. Each can has the iconography of an ocean wave and a single white word. He knew that word from his studies: the ancient god of the Endless Seas, Pepsi.
On his right, he see bags colored in red. He excitedly read the name of the god. Doritos. The ancient god of Raging Fire.
He looked around, endless shrines offering to both the major gods like the Solar God Samsung, to minor obscure ones such as Good Value. *Must be the god of Morality*, he concluded.
"Han'Sungai, have you dug out the name of this temple yet? I saw a part of the glyph symbols extruding out earlier."
"Yea I think we got all of it dug out. Can you come over for a second? We need your capabilities to translate this word."
The Professor came out to decrypt the symbols. It's even more impressive up-close, towering almost three times his height.
"The blue word is 'Wul'Mutt'. I read in the books that it's the name of an ancient empire that stretches to every corner of the globe. The white words are foreign to me, but I assume it means Super Shrine in the ancient tongue." | Then, the Behemoth Sand Serpent struck a blow into the Eagle's back, it quickly regretted the decision. As the Eagle went hunting for the Serpent's home, and family. Destroying its habitat as it once used to live. But the Eagle was not alone.
Its friend the cunning and quick Fox, went to feast on the Serpent as it now slithered around its desert home. Hiding in the mountains, and woods. Waiting for the Eagle and Fox to come looking. As it hid, waiting for the moment to strike, ensuring the proper moment to attack, no one paid attention to the Ocelot of the North.
The Ocelot, and Bear friend made haste to encroach even closer on the Eagle. The pair able to slide in behind the Eagle while its great talons were distracted. When the Bear first struck the Eagle's home, it was unprepared.
For a Eagle is agile and aggressive naturally. While the Bear and Ocelot unable to run fast enough, yet hiding in the habitat of the wilds, away from the eyesight of the Eagle.
It is said while these forces squabbled, a dragon of monolithic might waited in a distant mountain range. Waiting to pour its endless breath over the land, then the dragon decided it was time to strike. Setting the land ablaze.
This was known, and passed down long before we existed. The fight to end all fights, in their end, came our beginning. They left behind their scorched habitats, now all that is left of them are parables of old. | 2015-03-12T11:21:56 | 2015-03-12T09:51:04 | 144 | 32 |
[WP] Your power is the ability to "save game" at any point in your life allowing you to revert any previous state if something goes wrong. You never thought you would need to revert to age 3 to fix a problem until now. | The countless times I'd used the 'Return' function were usually only a day or a month back. Maybe I had to correct a mistake I'd made just a while back. But going back to the age of 3 of something I'd never expected. For one, ages less than 6 connotate childishness and the lack of maturity. My job and my powers were serious matters, not things that could be toyed with by a toddler. Moreover, my childhood was one... I would hate to return to. That time period was riddled with trauma and hate. But I trusted that I would remain in my same rational adult state when I reverted back to youth. I crossed my fingers, said my prayers and teleported.
Instantly the sight of that house choked me up. But a wave of disgust and resentment overtook any other emotion when I saw him. The terrorizer. The tormentor. The destroyer. I was so tempted to do it all again, to take the gun from his room for revenge, but those were the thoughts of a 3 year old. I was 34. I would have to live through it all, if I wanted to rid myself of the guilt and regret that plagued my adult years. Day after day, I clenched my teeth and withstood the torrents of abuse he threw at me. I counted down on my calendar, waiting for the fateful day. July 12th. Where my previous self committed juvenile murder.
At last, the day came. Uneventfully it encroached upon us, though I knew the outcome far better than he did. I remembered every single part of that day, from breakfast to our final heated conversation. But today's insults and threats were the worst yet. I could feel the anger boiling within me, like steam in a kettle, as I clenched my fists to relieve some of the hatred. But the hour of doom passed, without event, as I congratulated myself on a job well done. As I looked back now, at the figure of the middle-aged man that was my father, I started to feel something other than blind hatred. Some sympathy. He was what I would have become if I'd continued down my path of remorse. And suddenly, I began to understand him. But I couldn't comprehend his motive. Why would he terrorize an innocent child like me?
"Aldrich?" I heard the soothing coo of his voice. I hadn't heard that tone in many decades now, and the rememberance of our once happy relationship brought tears to my eyes. "Daddy just wants to say sorry. I love you so much," he said, his eyes too welling up with tears. I looked at him again, with confusion this time. Love wasn't translated into beatings and verbal abuse. But his love... when did it cease to be happy?
That night, I slept soundly, though I could feel a nameless dread tingling up my spine. Surely, what he said couldn't mean that...
My premonition, when the morning came, was accurate. His death came just one day late, by the same weapon, though the assailant differed. And as I mourned his death, for real this time, I knew that his love had never stopped. Just supressed by the demons inside. | The problem with going back was that I never figured out what had gone wrong.
That was the drawback to it all, really. I could remember all of the details leading up to the event, but never the thing itself. I do often wonder what my life would have been like, had I carried all of my memories with me.
Still, sometimes I could piece it all together. A lot of the time it was obvious- other times, not so much. I sometimes wonder if I ever did anything unspeakable. If I had, would I go back and forget it all? That idea never sat right with me.
I wasn't that kind of person.
Thinking on it now, it all went pretty well. I was fortunate enough to escape a lot of near death experiences- the second time around. I still think about this one haunting memory though...
I recall being an older man, with a wife and child. We lived in a reasonable home. I worked nights at the nearby airport, and she stayed at home with our daughter. One morning I came home, walked into the bathroom and... that was it.
I try not to think of those times. They're not relevant to who I am now, but still I find them tugging at my heart strings, as if I had never truly forgotten why.
But who was I now? I can't remember the last time I made my own cup of tea, or even walked upright. It's been long coming, I know that much. I had agreed with myself to go back to the first time I ever cast a net. I think I was 3, or sometime around that age- never really knew what it was at the time.
This would reset everything. How could I carry all of these memories with me? All of the lessons I've learnt along the way, and all of the troubles I eventually came to accept. It's a necessary part of life, to face tribulation. It makes you a stronger person, pulls you through and forces you to be competent- and compassionate.
At first I didn't realise that. For many times, actually. But slowly and surely I saw the importance of it all. And now, as I sit here and look out of my bed, I'm insure.
She's smiling at me with youthful eyes, but I can see the sadness pushing through.
God, I love her- more than I'd ever loved anything. I couldn't imagine a world without her. She was my everything.
I'd lose it all if I let the sickness take me, but I'd lose it all if I went back, too.
No, I didn't want to lose her, not like that.
Not like she didn't matter.
I wasn't going to go, after all. I wasn't going to cast another memory to the wind...
| 2017-09-10T16:08:18 | 2017-09-10T14:50:53 | 380 | 27 |
[WP] You wake up in a room with 11 strangers. In the center of the room is a metal box bolted to the floor. On top of the box is a note that reads “Whoever opens this box will die. If no one opens the box in the next 60 minutes, all of you will die.” | It was a simple test. Eleven people, two outcomes. But there was one solution my superiors and I were looking for.
I was watching from the security room with bated breath. Four and Nine were studying the box and putting their respective engineering and psychology degrees to work, Three was trying to find a way out of the room, and One was consoling an anxious Ten. The rest of the group was huddled around the walls, staring at the box, ruminating on the note and what it entailed.
I wasn't anywhere close to their current situation, but I felt similarly about the trio of buttons to the left of my intercom. Two out of the three would have signified our latest batch had failed and we would have to start all over. It had taken us months to even find these people- I was not prepared to start from scratch. "Come on, come on," I muttered under my breath.
Suddenly, Five got up and started talking to the rest of the group. A look of...not quite a resolution but more of an acceptance, appeared on the faces of the group one by one. Even Ten, who had been the most scared of them all, seemed to be on board with this. The group joined Four and Nine around the box, rested their hands on top, and after a few seconds of tension, slid open the lid of the box all as one.
On the inside, I was screaming and jumping for joy, but on the outside I retained my professional decorum. I pressed the middle button of the trio and said into the intercom, "Test passed, everyone. Well done."
I stepped out of the security room and into the chamber where the test was being conducted. The giant gray cube where the group was kept retracted into the floor in long metallic strips, like a deck being disassembled one board at a time. While the rest of the group were looking around in confusion, an irate Six looked over at me and said, "Lady, what the hell was all this?"
"First of all, my name is Cordelia, not Lady. And second of all, this was a test. Not to determine your willingness to give your life for someone else's, mind you, but one to determine if you were willing to go with a solution where nobody had to die, even if it meant taking a leap of faith. And you all passed with flying colors."
"Okay, but why were we being tested," Seven asked.
"You were being tested because our organization is tasked with both saving the world and making it one worth saving. Because you select few, from all across the world, share two things: a desire to make things better, and a genetic trait that makes you compatible with our top-secret procedure that can grant you incredible power. Because the world needs people who understand there is no such thing as an acceptable loss. It needs heroes."
The wall behind me displayed a holographic still of our logo: a burnt-orange silhouette of an angel brandishing a torch. "We are Prometheus. Now, shall we get started?" | \[Death Rattled\]
"A death game, huh? I remember Nate and Sharon getting into one like this..." I quietly mutter, eyeing the other contestants. 9 humans, one vampire and two demons, including myself. Tsk, I feel bad for them, because unlike them, I'm a being cursed with undeath, as it's how I've lived for over four millennia.
57 minutes remain, one of the humans, a muscular and jocular stereotype was barking out commands toward the vampire, threatening to knock his lights out if they didn't open the box.
"Wait, let's act rational, here. Even if one of us opens the box, the game will probably keep going until at most one of u remains," One of the slimmer males speaks up, a soldier boy, Private First Class even, "If none of us open the box, we can rob whoever's causing this of their entertainment..!"
"A shame, really, then. Whoever orchestrated this picked terrible targets then, since a quarter of us are supernatural," I remark, getting to my feet. I calmly walk towards the box, eyeing each one of the others, who all had startled expressions on their faces. They saw what I was going to do, and the soldier as the first to act, trying to grab my arms and prevent me from opening it.
"Are you not listening..!? Or are you just that sui-" Before he was able to finish his next sentence, I grab him and lock him in a full nelson before slamming him into a wall.
"Unlike the others, I don't need to, because if you didn't try to stop me, I would have revealed the second reason why the one who put us here made a massive mistake," I shove him to the floor, walking back towards the box. The timer on it showed that we have 49 minutes left. I wrenched open the box with minimal effort, to which a bunch of confetti shot out the box, much to the confusion of everyone other than myself, before I begin feeling a sharp pain in my chest.
It wasn't a pain strong enough to send me to the floor, but it was enough to catch me off guard, "Cyanide implants. Clever, but not enough to kill me, unfortunately," I begin laughing, even as pain was spreading through my body, threatening to floor me, I would not stop until whoever was watching learns the horrid truth: Death can be an escape, it can be mercy... but it can also be torture. It's nothing more than a matter of perspective...
\[End.\] | 2022-09-08T21:17:39 | 2022-09-08T20:57:45 | 66 | 27 |
[WP] You are a world-class programmer who has died. God agrees to allow you in to Heaven on the condition that you work for him while he debugs the human body. Write the patch notes for the next version of humans. | **Changes**
* Removed appendix
* Removed wisdom teeth
* Fixed a bug that caused infants to die for no reason
* Patched a bug that caused certain people to lose hair prematurely
* Body now handles excess calories better.
* Improvement of smell. Now should be on par with dogs
* Patched the bug that caused blurry vision in certain people
* Height limit increased
* Fixed a weird bug that made certain people attracted to young children. May need to reset preferences for this change to take place.
* Bodies will now "rag doll" instead of locking up when in a crash or similar event.
* Nipples no longer get irritated while running or in cold conditions
* Removed bug where women would grow facial hair
* Increased male pleasure from sexual intercourse. Should now be even with women.
* Increased flexibility of hip bones in women to allow birthing to be easier.
* Increased chance of rare eye color unlocks.
* Removed ghosts. | Human v1.1
* Created basic cell membrane and stored in new GIT repository. Does nothing yet, but will provide a better basis to develop from than the old DNA sequence which jumps back and forth between coding sequences and is full of dead code. There was actually a *goto* command in there. Whatever crack-smoking monkey created this mess appears to have been writing DNA sequences randomly while trying to see whatever happened to work. Oh and of course nothing is documented. FMAL | 2015-08-25T08:40:17 | 2015-08-25T07:22:26 | 292 | 112 |
[WP] A leprechaun gets his foot caught on the handle of a genies lamp. Each now owes the other party 3 wishes but niether is dumb enough to make the first move. | The silence was uncomfortable. It's been 3 minutes since the genie appeared before Patrick. They both knew the situation at hand, neither wanted to make the first move.
The genie lets out a sigh. In a monotone voice, he then recited the following monologue for what sounded like the 1,000,000th time. Patrick knew, it probably was.
"Congratulations. You have rubbed the mythical lamp of Kakazoo the Genie. You are awarded THREE wishes, but there are rules."
"First rule," he continued, "you may not wish anyone directly dead or from existence. Second rule, you can not wish to be a higher dimensional being, such as a god, demon or genie. However; you CAN opt switch places with me, Kakazoo the Genie, thus freeing me from my servitude and taking my place. You MAY wish to become biological paranormal beings such vampires, werewolves, superhumans, an immortal, or..." he stares blankly at Patrick "a *leprechaun*."
"And for the third and final no-can-do, you can not wish for more wishes. You get three, that's it. There is no loophole, no clever wording or tricks that you may think you can perform that will allow for you to access more than three wishes from me, or any other genie in your lifetime."
Patrick stared blankly back at Kakazoo, almost waiting for more.
"That it, boyo?" Patrick finally says.
"That's it, shorty. Don't you have something to say to me, now?" Kakazoo responds, sounding quite annoyed.
"Ye caught me, ya get three wishes of yer choosin'" Patrick lazily exclaims. "Unless of course, ya want this here gold coin. Worth quite a bit." He cracked a hideous smile at Kakazoo, showing a mixture of poorly taken care of teeth and golden ones.
All along, Patrick has just been plotting. Leprechauns are known tricksters, and this genie most definitely is anticipating that.
"Well, are you going to make your wishes little man? I've got plenty of time on my hands, so really, there is no rush. You may not feel the same way, though, considering that fresh rainbow I just spotted." Kakazoo pointed behind Patrick at the rainbow he'd just created.
Patrick turned, and figured this was just some genie magic. There's no way a pot of gold could be at the other end. Was there?
Patrick lets out a hearty laugh, "Oh genie, you're going to have to work harder than that to trick old Patrick O'Toole into making the first wish."
In that moment, Patrick snuck one more quick look back towards the rainbow. Almost too quick and motionless to notice. The inklings of a smirk appeared then quickly vanished off the face of Kakazoo.
Patrick lets out another laugh, "You really think you're clever, dontcha boyo?"
"You know, you forgot to mention the servitude clause, Kakazoo" Patrick said slyly.
"You know, the one where you are my slave for the rest of my life, which happens to be eternity. Doing menial tasks and making my life just a wee-bit easier. I always wanted a butler. You see, us Leprechauns don't have that idiotic clause, buddy'o." he continued, his voice getting darker as each word rolled on.
But before Patrick could finish, Kakazoo makes his first wish...
| Garnel's nomadic experience wasn't going as he'd expected. His steps were too short, and so he got tired often and travelled little. However, things had been fine until he embarked into the orange, course tides of the Sahara.
He was not good at managing resources, and so he'd to use some of his leprechaun magic to survive. He thought he'd find cafés in the middle of the boiling ocean of sand. But that hadn't been the case.
He, however, by sheer accident, found an old, lackluster lamp. Well, to be honest, he got his feet trapped in its handle.
In time, the lamp vibrated, and coils of red steam poured out from within, gathering in the empty air before Garnel's eyes, until it coalesced into a scarlet, sentient, being.
"A genie? I thought you were mythical creatures and not real at all," Garnel said, in awe.
The genie eyed Garnel sidelong and askant, his arms crossed. "Are you kidding me? Do you realize you are glowing golden and four leaf clovers are literally sprouting out your ass? You are surprised I'm real?"
"Well...yes," Garnel said and grinned a spinach-stained grin. "Is that wrong?"
"Not wrong," the genie said, and shook his head, "just strange and stupid. What are you even doing here?"
"Well, I was tired to live at the end of the rainbow," Garnel said, his expression suddenly sullen, "and so I decided to leave my roots, my pot of gold behind, and travel across the rainbow for a change. You?"
"Change is a risky thing, but boredom is much worse," the genie said, and nodded. "I was left here after fulfilling my last master's three wish--"
"I'm your master now," Garnel said, grinning mischievously.
"You owe me three wishes too, leprechaun."
Garnel's heart thumped. It beat against his chest as if wanting to escape. What was this sudden feeling? His eyes glowed with excitement, gold fell out his ears, and their clovers blessed him with an idea.
"I wish to not owe you any wish!" they both said in unison.
"Fuck."
"Fuck."
They stared at each other for a long moment, no words spoken. They knew that if they said that at the same thing the wishes were cancelled, as if they had never uttered a word. They had to find an opening.
"This is stupid," the genie said, "let's just agree to not owe each other any wish--"
"I wish to not owe you any wish!" Garnel said, and smiled as he felt the shackles of his magical bond breaking. "Now, slave of mine, let's have some fun."
"That was unfair, you are a little bastard."
"Well, mythical thing, you have wishes and a lamp," Garnel said and his visage gleamed with joy. "But we leprechauns have wishes *and* luck."
-----------------------------------------
/r/AHumongousFish | 2018-09-28T08:52:47 | 2018-09-28T08:09:28 | 1,169 | 368 |
[WP] God is found dead.
EDIT: Reading all of your responses now. Some of these are brilliant. | God had been many things. He had often proclaimed himself wise, by virtue of knowing more than any other being. He had been considered all-powerful by others, because He was far more powerful than they. He was considered the ultimate good, for He was the most good humanity could comprehend.
Mass knowledge is not omniscience. Vast power is not omnipotence. Great good is not perfection.
On the day Jesus died, God wept. God wept because He had come to realize that His great plan was imperfect, as was He. He had thought to make humans like Him by means of hundred religions and careful guidance, but realized that humans were more versatile. Where He was unchangeable, absolute, they could explore. They had the potential to discover and create good that was different, and perhaps greater than, Him. They mourned his son in a way that he had not, could not. They could feel pain and do evil, but from that pain and evil they could better learn good than He.
God realized that He had indeed created His successors. Not as equals though, but as superiors. He realized that they would not ever be able to achieve their potential with his meddling, and so, He left. In the thousands of years to come they would question whether He ever existed, and that was greatest good he could do them.
EDIT: Thanks guys, especially whoever gave me Gold. I love the discussion and yes, the critisicsm. Hope to see more of you soon! Long live /r/WritingPrompts!
| "When was the body found?"
"This morning. The landlord called us just after eight."
"Early time for a visit."
"Rent collection."
The two detectives stood over the aged corpse. Around them, forensics were setting up to go over the apartment.
"You said there was something else?"
"Yeah."
The younger man handed his superior a scrap of paper.
"What's it from?"
"It's, uh, Nietzsche. I think. The Gay Science."
The DCI studied the page.
"God is dead?"
"Yeah."
"Is this meant to be God?"
"I think so."
"Do we have a name?"
"Um. Dave."
"Fine. Cause of death?"
"Looks like a beating to me."
"Nasty one at that."
"Yessir."
"Alright. Let's get down to the station and try and make it a quick one. I can't work overtime again, the missus'll have me head."
"Yessir. You think it'll be easy?"
"We should be so lucky."
[Someone else please continue if you want] | 2014-02-18T15:02:47 | 2014-02-18T14:44:46 | 434 | 40 |
[WP] Whenever you saw a dead animal in the road, you'd say a little prayer and send them to Heaven. Upon your death, you arrive in Heaven and are immediately swarmed with 1000's of various critters delighted to see you. You hear a booming voice cry out with irritation, "This is YOUR fault." | "Be at peace."
My Mom always said this small prayer any time we would see an animal in the road. No matter dog, rat, deer, snake, raccoon, or the smallest bird that no one would think twice about. If there was a poor little creature which had its life cut short by some person who was too busy rushing through their own, she would always pray.
Soon after getting my license and my own car I found myself saying this same prayer. Maybe it was out of habit, maybe I thought that it is something everyone does, maybe because if I didn't then who would? Either way I never missed. Every animal, every time.
Years went by, and even though I would get some weird looks from passengers, or ignorant comments by people who seem to think that the lives of creatures other than themselves have no meaning, I still prayed for them.
All but one.
"This is YOUR fault!"
The words hit me hard, and so did the memories of an elk suddenly jumping in front of my car. The memories of pulling the wheel harder than I ever have before. The memories of a brown flash moving across my windshield. The memories of nothing at all.
"I don't understand, what is my fault?"
I slowly begin to notice the thousands of different animals greeting me, as if they know me. Not just as if they know me, but thankful to know me.
"No not you, I will be with you in a moment."
I was confused to say the least, but happy. As soon as I realized that I know these animals too. For some reason I can remember each and every one. I remember the small raccoon off of I-5, the beautiful porcupine next to Highway 41, the opossum I buried next to Third Street.
"This is your fault. You know it is a special occasion today and I was under the impression that you would behave!"
I now notice a man speaking to a very beautiful grey and white colored cat. Smokey. My cat. The one that ran away when I was 8 years old, the one I remember seeing from the school bus window a few blocks from my house. I knew it was her that day.
The man was scolding Smokey for tearing up a piece of furniture that I'm assuming was for me to sit on. She was always a feisty one.
He turned away after giving her a little pat on the head, no one can stay mad looking at that face.
"Hello! These wonderful creatures are only here to give you a warm welcome, then they're back off to their own pieces of heaven. You are the reason they are here and they seem to be very thankful for that. Except Smokey seems to forget that not everything is a scratching post, my apologies."
He turned to look at Smokey, but she was already preoccupied with playing around on something else.
"Anyways, feel free to formally meet all these fine animals and enjoy yourself!"
"Oh! And one last thing, someone very close to you must have the same tradition because we just received a new guest."
At that moment the most beautiful Elk I have ever seen walked through the crowd to rest it's head on my lap. It seemed upset, but with a few words I knew would calm him.
"Be at peace." |
ROADKILL PRAYERS
I was twenty-three when I first said a prayer,
On that fried road out to Kentucky.
I had come from Montana with a truck full of bread,
I was lost and alone and wished I was dead.
I wanted better, but what did I know?
I pulled the rig off the highway to sleep,
There was a diner and pit stop just two miles away,
I wanted sleep more than I wanted to pray.
But when I stepped out the cab right into a mess,
A pile of maggots that once was a dog,
I shouted up to heaven, “God damn it all.”
It had soaked through my sock, straight to the bone,
And I thought for a moment,
*Why am I so alone?*
But the mess of an animal out on the dirt,
Tugged at my heart and I was shook.
So I said my first prayer, for the small and the lost,
Went into the diner and got tossed.
I went on with my life, no lady, no luck,
Just a man on the highway driving a truck.
But I began to pray, for the dead and the dying,
Because, damn it to hell, at least I was trying.
I prayed for dead dogs who would never shake paws,
For the cats who got cocky,
For the crows and the birds and the hawks in the yards,
The mice and the frogs and the possums as well,
Though I thought for certain that they went to hell.
I prayed just to pray,
I prayed just to hope,
I prayed for the Roadkill,
Because no one else did.
When I finally died, at ripe 42,
I went up to heaven like most folk do.
And was met by a crew, thousands strong,
All the rats and the kittens and dogs and snakes,
All waiting for me, for their own sake.
Oh the noise it made, was louder than sin,
And God wasn’t happy, but he still let me in.
“Why did you do it? I can’t even think?”
And he asked if I knew how much skunks stink.
How possums don’t play dead in heaven, they hiss,
And all of the puppies who run when they piss.
The cats all scratching up his clouds,
The birds? The birds! Are too fucking loud.
I knew in my heart, despite all the noise,
Praying for the weak was never wrong,
I once was Old Bert, stuck in that can,
But I am better for being a praying man.
We are made in God’s image,
So maybe it’s true,
We are all the roadkill,
That we pray for too. | 2019-09-02T23:59:04 | 2019-09-02T22:19:34 | 2,636 | 1,450 |
[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. | Captured again! What was this? Like, the 5th time? I wasn't going to get off so easy this time. The last time I got caught was when I rolled a casino. I should explain. I have a useless, "not-so" special ability. I have the ability to control probability. At first, I would use it for my personal gain. It started in high school, when I first used it to get a date with Liz. We left it up to a coin flip, heads yes and tails no. That was fun, until I tried to tell her about my ability. She walked out and that was that. She didn't believe me. I tried to tell my friends, but I was met with the same response. When I went to college, I had begun to take casino's for myself in order to pay my way through school. That was when I caught the attention of the law. I was quickly apprehended, but they had zero solid-evidence for a conviction. I was laughed out of the courtroom. This time was different though. You see, the president died this morning in a plane crash. What are the odds? | They didn't respect me. Never did. They laughed as I pointed, laughing that my power was useless, that no one would ever respect me.
But, over the years, I've realized something. I've realized that without this thing, Laser Beam Man won't have the strength to fight crime. Super Strength Woman won't even be able to lift a fly. And... and even the famed Batman Copycat won't be keeping his city safe. No. That all ends today.
I pointed to the roll of toilet paper, and it disappeared.
They won't be laughing at Points at Toilet Paper and Makes It Disappear Man any more.
Not until I've gotten my load off. | 2015-04-12T18:46:16 | 2015-04-12T17:51:32 | 21 | 10 |
[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! | As I clicked on yet another link, a glance at the title woke me from my stupor.
**US attack on Iran sparks new wave of WWIII memes**
It seemed inconceivable that not so long ago this was the reality. Fresh internet humor about the planet's impending doom. The latest bunch of pop culture references and dark jokes to relay the sense of strangeness of the world.
*Only if we had known.*
It had been fourteen days - two full weeks - since I had last interacted with another living soul. For all I knew, there wasn't another one remaining. The heat, radiation and extreme weather had taken most. Those who had remained were forced to see themselves devolve into savages in hopeless attempts to survive. With the food supplies dwindling, it seemed like I would soon be joining those ranks.
To say my days had become monotonous would be an understatement. Each day was indistinguishable from the last. They consisted of me trying to get by on as little food as possible.
Though food was in short supply, by some miracle, electricity and Internet were still up and running. It was little comfort though when there didn't seem to be anyone else using it. There were no new posts on Facebook or Twitter, nobody uploading vlogs from their nuclear-holocaust-proof bunkers. And there was nothing on Reddit either. No more of those dank WWIII memes.
I had given up looking for signs of life online at least a week ago. My waking hours now saw me mindlessly scroll through old Reddit posts and watching Youtube videos. I had developed a perverse habit of leaving comments on every video I saw. It was an old obsession for people to be the first to view content uploaded by their favourite Youtubers. Within seconds of uploading, videos used to be inundated with comments of "First". I always found that trend annoying. I could never be the first one to comment on any of those videos but I certainly could be the last.
*Maybe the Internet wasn't keeping me sane after all*
Rubbing my eyes, I decided that I'd had enough. Time didn't matter much to me now but I still felt inclined to sleep while it was still dark outside. Just as I had put my phone away and prepared myself to go to sleep, I heard a sound that sent shock waves through my body. A sound I had heard a million times before but it had never made me feel as excited,elated or terrified before.
My phone had buzzed.
As I picked it up, I saw that I had received a notification.
*LoneSurivor liked your comment: "Last".* | I scrolled rather unenthusiastically down to the comments section of the video. I typed my typical "Last" comment, which I really just did to pass the time. It had been....weeks? I didn't know. I didn't care anymore. I just wanted for this all to be over. To wake up from whatever sadistic nightmare this was.
I slipped my phone into my pocket. I just....started walking. Didn't have direction. Didn't care where I ended up. I just wanted to go somewhere. Anywhere. I knew I was the last person alive, but just...going somewhere for once might be fun.
Eventually I hit the city limits. I took one last look back to the town I had grown up in. I let out a long sigh. "Might as well go somewhere." I said, turning back down the road.
As nightfall hit, I made a small campfire. I knew I wouldn't last long without food, but dying of hunger is better than dying of old age. I took a small sip of water from my canteen before laying down.
As I closed my eyes to sleep, I heard a ding. I shot up. Where? What? I looked down to my phone, it's screen now lit up. "1 new notification" it read. How? From where? I opened it up and realized it was from YouTube. Someone had....liked my comment? Was I.....was I not alone? I shot up, making a follow-up comment to see if I could get an answer. "Who are you?"
I got a quick response. "Hi! My name's Emily! I thought I was the only one left!"
From there, we talked for hours until we came up on the big question: how far away were we from each other? I was ecstatic when I got an answer. A 3 day's walk would be worth it, as long as I didn't have to die alone.
As I write this, me and Emily have been together happily for years now. We're travelling together to see as much of the world as we can. And, thankfully, we have a little adventure who will join us soon enough. | 2020-01-13T12:40:19 | 2020-01-07T10:11:18 | 32 | 17 |
[WP] You are frantically driving back to your house. Your wife called you for she delivered, even though it has been just six months. You open the door and find your wife hugging a 1 foot egg. "I will explain everything honey, but could you warm our baby for a while, I am hungry AF." | "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN 'YOURE THE EASTER BUNNY'?" You shouted as you paced back and forth as your wife devoured the plate of sandwiches in front of her. This couldn't be right, you must be dreaming. You pinched yourself hard "ow" nope. Not dreaming, just insane apparently.
"Like I told you, it's in my blood. Every generation the eldest girl in my family has been the Easter Mother. I'm not sure exactly when the bunny stuff came about but that doesn't matter."
You just stared at her in shock again as she munches on another sandwich. This was a joke. A bad joke, not even funny. You have spent the past few months thinking you were going to be a father and now you had to accept that the woman you were deeply in love with was completely insane.
"So you lay eggs? Your family is a bunch of egg laying Easter bunnies? What the fuck!"
She seemed resigned but continued "no we don't lays eggs. We lay THE Egg. Capitol E. The Egg represents all life in this universe. Ignore the Easter bunny thing, that's gotten you off track. Now that I've found the one I love, I will lay Eggs at least once a year. If I don't lay the eggs then life in the universe will end. That ok with you?"
You didn't think you could hear anything more surprising than the fact that your partner laid eggs but now your jaw was on the floor.
"The end of the universe? But...but what's inside the egg?"
"Life. If I don't give birth to these eggs. Life is over"
I couldn't take it anymore I was going insane. But something was nagging you. Something you couldn't ignore any longer.
"But if all life could end, and you family is the only thing that can stop it, isn't that kinda...putting all your eggs in one basket? | No hospital, no water broke, nothing normal. Just a simple test message. "She's here."
"Who is here?" I asked.
"The baby silly," she replied.
I was confused but rushing home from work after several messages convinced me something was seriously wrong with my wife. Boss said it was fine and I rushed to the car flying home as fast as I could.
When I got home I was stunned by what I saw. There was my beautiful wife beaming on the couch while holding a small egg.
"What is that?" I asked.
"Honey why are you being weird. It's our baby." She said.
She was urging me over to the couch. "I need you to come here and warm her up. I'm really hungry.
I took a few unsteady steps toward the couch and she sighed and stood up grabbing me by the arm and forcing me to sit. She placed the egg in my lap before I could really process what was happening.
"You need to keep it warm."
Six months, it had only been six months since she was pregnant. Looking at her now she was very clearly not pregnant anymore.
This whatever this was. It wasn't my child. My first daughter wasn't like this she wasn't an egg. She was a baby, a baby that just got a bad infection.
I was surprised we had both agreed to start again do quickly but this, I thought looking down at the egg and then back to my happily humming wife in the kitchen. This wasn't right. | 2022-08-22T02:54:42 | 2022-08-22T02:48:07 | 282 | 146 |
[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry". | Riss eyed the boy curiously. Unlike commonly believed, there was no right or wrong way to call a deity. Whether or not they responded was entirely up to the deity in question. Some had opted to make their own rules in order to cut down on requests, like that stickler Agith who hadn’t seen a proper ‘summoning’ in over three thousand years since humans shifted their pronunciation of *fliugat*. Such things offended Riss’ sensibilities though, so she simply responded as she pleased. Which was rare anymore, it took something truly novel to get her attention.
And, well, this was novel.
Riss appeared in front of the young boy, taking the form of a lovely woman in her 30’s, someone who could be his mother. No point scaring the boy, at least until she found out what he wanted. Today chaos could take a backseat to curiosity. “Hello, child. This is an unusual sacrifice to be offered to me. What made you choose it?”
“Mommy tells me I get cranky when I’m hungry, and you’re cranky so I figured you gotta be hungry.”
“And Why do you think I’m cranky?”
“All those mean things you do.”
Riss debated for a moment if she should disabuse him of that notion. Her goal wasn’t to be mean, though it often came across that way to mortals, it was merely to shake things up if they got too boring. She decided against it, opting to play along a bit more.
“I thank you for your kind gift, young sir. It is very thoughtful. Now what would you like in return?”
He stared at her blankly.
“You gave me a gift, now I’m offering you one. What do you want?”
“I dunno.”
“Would you like your own treat? A game? A toy?”
He paused for a minute. “I wanna go in the merry-go-round at the musement park.”
“Sure thing! In fact, let’s go on all the rides!”
“I’m only allowed on the merry go round.”
“When you’re with me, you’re allowed to do anything you want.” She gave him a big smile. Today would be fun for both of them. | The child was small, no more than six or seven years old. He was standing in the middle of the summoning circle, holding out a bar of chocolate. "You must be hungry, Lord."
You take the chocolate from the child, breaking off a piece and popping it into your mouth. It's delicious, rich and creamy. You savor the flavor for a moment before speaking. "Yes, I am hungry. And you have done well to summon me, child."
"I am not a child, Lord," the boy replies. "I am a man."
You feel the ground begin to shake beneath your feet, the circle of candles bursting into flames and melting the wax into pools upon the stone floor. "You are not a man. You are a child. A child playing at being a man."
"I am not a child," the boy insists. "I am a man. And I have done what no other has done - I have summoned you, Lord!"
The ground shakes once again as if in response to his declaration. You find yourself growing angry. "You are not a man," you insist through gritted teeth. "You are a child."
"I am not a child!" he shouts, his voice carrying across the room and echoing off the walls. The candles go out, plunging the chamber into darkness. You sense movement to your right, a flash of light as one of the candles is relit. The chamber comes into focus once again, and you see that the boy has advanced towards you, his hand outstretched towards your chest. "I am not a child," he says again, his voice now softer but filled with conviction.
***
Check out r/greypuffin for more stories. | 2022-09-19T13:50:44 | 2022-09-19T11:05:21 | 42 | 27 |
[WP] Every human has their soulmate's last words to them engraved in their skin from birth.
Idea from this Tumblr post
https://scontent-lga1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpt1/v/t1.0-9/11206957_778391755645357_8477035769704355007_n.png?oh=5b3f35d575ad3aa39d6ba5c5ed39cce2&oe=56549C83 | “Oh, pardon me! Heh, my mom always tells me I need to pull my head out of the clouds.”
He smiled at her; a sheepish sort of smile that – she noted – highlighted the crow’s feet at the outer corners of his eyes – pale, soft blue. They weren’t lines that her grandmother had warned her would come with all of her suspicious squinting. No, they were gentle creases that had come as a result of looking upwards, of gazing up to the heavens while laying in a field of tall grasses.
She smiled back, an automated response from her anxiety, which was running full speed today. She’d made her way down into the city from the comfort of her small, quaint condo on the outskirts for a job interview at a grammar school, and was running a little behind schedule. She glanced up at the crosswalk’s signal and sighed. How long had she been standing here? It felt like forever…
The hairs on the nape of her neck bristled, and she turned her head, blinking her eyes as she caught the young man’s gaze again. She felt her face heat up. She hated when people stared at her.
“Sorry,” he said, stepping up beside her to make room for a woman with a walker that had come up behind them both. “Couldn’t help but notice that you look nervous. Job interview?”
“How could you tell?”
“Most established business persons don’t tap dance at the crosswalk and cling to their folio.” He cracked a grin then, and she couldn’t help but smile again – this time more genuinely.
“I’m interviewing at the grammar school. It’s basically my dream job, so yeah…I’m more than a little nervous.” The boy nodded his head toward the street then. The glowing white stick figure was signaling that it was time to cross.
“Well, good luck,” he said. The two exchanged smiles once more, and he stepped forward. The girl began to walk as well, until she heard the distinctive tear of fabric. Her eyes widened in horror and, whipping her head around, she found that the hem of her pencil skirt had snagged on a rusty bolt sticking out from the post she had been standing next to. ‘No, no, no,’ she thought, mentally cursing as she twisted her body, reaching a hand down to free herself in time to make the light.
It was then, as her fingers wrestled with the rapidly fraying fabric of her skirt, that she heard it. Them. Dozens of sounds at once, mixing into a cacophony of chaos. Horns blaring, tires screeching, metal grinding against asphalt… She turned her head toward the street once more, and her hands flew to her mouth. Her black leather folio fell to the cement sidewalk, papers exploding from within. A crowd was already gathering, and in the distance – faintly – she could hear sirens. But it was too late. A person’s body was not meant to lay like that…
The tear in her skirt , and the hose beneath, allowed a single Word to peek through to the world. Luck.
| I pant, my lungs on the verge of collapsing. Looking round the corner, I saw no one. Perhaps, I've lost her.
Lee. These three alphabets remain a daily reminder of an inescapable fate. Carved onto my forehead since birth, I bear the burden of having to spend eternity with a certain Ms Lee out there.
The 'foreheads' are the worst of the lot. Never able to experience any pre-soul mate relationships, since everyone who's not a match knows immediately it would end badly. It got so bad, we even have a forehead self-help group for the unfortunate 1%.
I am in Fuck my Forehead too, but for different reasons. Had the Soul Brander never considered the possibility that someone might enjoy being single? I am that possibility made real, and my forehead had made life a living hell.
'Gotcha, Mr Ray!' said Lee No. 39 as she popped out of the back alley entrance. Damn, this one's tougher to lose than all the other Lees I've met. Having it on my forehead had Ms Lees flocking to me like moths to a flame. A flame that wants nothing to do with moths.
If I have a time machine, I'd go back in time and kill whoever came up with this soul branding system. He had to be one hell of a lonely fuck. Lonely and insecure and lazy. People like that don't deserve soul mates.
I took a deep breath and sprinted off once more. The twisting alleys of the Des district had been made familiar from my past escapes. I made two rights, a left and then another right, taking me to the roof. From there, I crossed three buildings via roof access and descended upon the stairwell into an abandoned cellar.
The cellar was dank, dark and silent. In other words, perfect. One of my favourite get away haunts. As I hurried down the stairwell, I heard footsteps on the other end, the cellar's main entrance. It couldn't have been her could it? 39 was fast, but she couldn't be this fast; not in Des district.
It was a female voice. She said, 'What are you doing here?' just as I asked the same question. Great, not Lee 39 then. I groped my way towards the light switch to be sure.
'Just getting the fuck away from someone,' I said while she simultaneously replied the same thing. Pressing on the switch, the cellar lights flickered into life. Before me, was a girl with a finger too on the switch. On her forehead was the word Ray. | 2015-08-08T11:15:40 | 2015-08-08T10:27:35 | 106 | 10 |
[WP] Every morning when you first look in a mirror, you see a small piece of advise for that day, such as “take the subway to work” or “don’t try the free pizza”. Today, the mirror simply says, “RUN” | 'Luck of the Irish' they called it- well, maybe there was something to it.
For as long as I could remember, every time I looked in the mirror I would be given some kind of helpful clue to brighten my day- it was never anything terribly significant, just little things like 'Don't try the free pizza', which helped me avoid an upset stomach. My little charm seemed to avoid some of the bigger things in life, though- like 'Don't fall in love with Austin, he's an asshole.' That would've been a great tip.
Today was different. Today, as I finished my morning shower, the message in the misty mirror read 'RUN'. The taste of fear crept up the back of my mouth- the taste of blood.
"Why?! Which way?!" I yelled back at whichever entity stalked my life, then burst out of the washroom, putting on my best "Apocalypse Preparedness" outfit- yoga pants, sneakers, sports bra, warm sweater- a fanny pack with snacks and a water bottle.
It was the best I could do.
In case I was behaving like a crazy person, I nabbed my cellphone on my way out of the door. "Hey, Michael- hey, sorry for the late call, I've had a...personal emergency. My...dad got into a car accident and I need to go be with him." I fibbed. It didn't feel good- but it was better than losing my job in case my 'advisor' was just having a laugh at my expense.
"Y-you mean you haven't heard? Mackenzie, turn on *any* news station. Don't worry about *work*, worry about getting the *hell out of town!*" Michael said, and hung up the phone.
Tuning my cellphone to a local news station, I made it out of my apartment building just as the broadcast began again.
As my feet pounded down the pavement, I heard the DJ;
*Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a confirmed case of extra-terrestrial activity just outside of the city. Officials are asking us not to panic, and to sit tight. The army is mobilizing a respondent task force. Remain indoors, do not crowd the streets, do not approach anyone or any*thing* that you see outside. We have an emergency briefing coming in from the Pre-*
The transmission cut out.
Yeah, I was going to trust my little advisor. *Forget* staying indoors!
Picking up the pace, I made it out of the downtown area. People were driving crazily, all scattering in different directions- meanwhile, the sun was shining and birds were chirping- what a strange contrast.
As I continued to run, I saw that someone had abandoned a bike on the side of the road- perhaps they had got in a car?
Taking the bike, I easily tripled my speed out of the city. My heart was pounding in my ears, and I could scarcely believe what was going on- it wasn't April Fool's or some such nonsense was it?!
Finally, I made it to the outskirts of the town- only to come face-to-face with a massive, definitely Alien-looking aircraft.
Which direction had I been heading? Was I *that* dense?!
In sheer panic, I pulled a 'deer in the headlights' moment.
A short ramp lowered itself from the front of the ship, gently touching down upon the ground.
A tall, slender, powder-blue creature- vaguely humanoid in appearance- began to descend from the ramp. It noticed me, and bowed deeply.
Stunned, I attempted to replicate the maneuver from my bicycle. It was awkward.
"Mackenzie," The Alien spoke. "Sorry our message was so vague this morning... we were just excited to finally meet you." It smiled broadly and warmly.
"Uhhhh saywhatnow?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Hey guys! I'm writing a brand-new Choose Your Own Adventure on my subreddit- go [here](https://old.reddit.com/r/nystorm_writes/comments/gzd48n/choose_your_own_adventure_part_vii_tragedy/) if you want to vote on how the story starts! I'd love to have you along for the adventure :) | I frowned at the message on the mirror.
"Wow, okay, wow. How could... I'm not even--" I choked on the donut I was eating.
After a coughing fit, I spat out the offending food and grabbed the next one in my morning box of donuts. I set the box down, now empty, and began licking the paltry amount of glaze off my fingers.
"You don't know me. I work out in my own way," I sat, patting my stomach defiantly. I could immediately feel my ribs.
The text grew larger, shivering as it pleaded with me to follow its advice.
*RUN*
"What am I running from, huh? Something scary happening? I don't see anything going on outs--" my chest tightened up for a second. I waited for it to pass like it normally did. Lasted a moment longer than I expected it to before fading away, awaiting the next change to threaten me from the inside.
"I just find it so hypocritical that all you do is pass advice and judgment. I look to you for my validation every day and all you do it tell me what to do. That's stupid," I pointed a bony finger at it.
**RUN**
"Look, I can't go outside because of errands I have to do today, so I don't have any time to get ready to go outside and run, I'm perfectly healthy," I retorted.
**TREADMILL**
"Wow... I can't believe you just... Wow, okay I bought the treadmill for when I was thinking about training for a marathon okay. I'm not doing the marathon anymore so I don't need to train for it," I said, folding my arms.
**RUN**
"No, I don't want to, I'm perfectly fine!" I said, breathing heavily. I was losing my breath just arguing with the thing. "I'm gonna go sit down, all right? Not because I'm tired or am in agony just standing and talking to you, but because I feel like sitting down, okay?"
As I turned away, the message turned to another one, much more urgent than all the previous ones.
***CALL AMBULANCE***
"Whoa, what happened? Is someone hurt next door or something?" I asked.
***CALL AMBULANCE FOR YOU***
"Wow, okay," I said, upset. The tightness in my chest returned, much more aggressively than before. "You think you know so much about me. You think I'm in such a state that I'm going to..." I caught my breath and fell to my knees, "going to hurt myself because I didn't go on the stupid run that you wanted me to go on, huh? Well jokes on you because I'm perfectly hea--"
I fell to the ground, my arm clutching at the pain in my chest willing it to go away. I wiggled my hand into my pocket and pulled out my phone, then threw it across the room as hard as I could, sneering at the mirror. The mirror didn't do anything. It stopped trying to give me advice. I could see my ghastly body in the mirror now, nothing blocking me from watching my writhe in pain on the floor. I had defeated the mirror. It stopped trying to advise me once it knew I was right.
*"That's right, you stupid mirror. I don't need to run,"* I thought, my chest flaring in too much pain for me to say any words. *"I'm perfectly fine."* I thought as my vision faded away.
__________________________
For more stories about spiteful protagonists, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! | 2020-06-07T22:00:50 | 2020-06-07T20:16:11 | 284 | 184 |
[WP] people are born knowing the date they’ll die. However people have noticed children born in the last week share one date, farthest in the future. | It had become apparent that humanity's days were numbered. As each child was brought into the world, our confidence grew. The markov chains were converging. As a society it was determined that no more children should be brought into the world. Of course there were the hold outs, the groups that fought us tooth and nail and held onto their ancient beliefs. The non-radicalized members were allowed to go on their pilgrimage. They began what was known as the Long Sleep. They gathered in ships stationed in orbit, nuclear vessels and went into a slumber as they wandered to the stars. The others were dealth with.
 
Our air and water were made such that no human could give birth. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but we knew it to be the right course of action. Our scientists were working hard to develop power, hardened infrastructure, faster processors. If anything was going to save humanity, it would be our technology. We scanned the stars, listened to the earth itself, and sifted through all of the combined knowledge and mythology of our civilizations to try and discern the meaning of our soon to be demise. Breakthroughs in technology came as most felt it their life pursuit to keep humanity going.
 
It was five years to the end date for Humanity that we lost contact with the Long Sleep ship. The world mourned for their long distant cousins. It had felt as if the spirit of our humanity had died with them.
 
It was on the fourth year to our Best Used By Date that the breakthrough in power was made. We had harnessed self sustaining fusion. It was a linchpin technology needed for the Great Migration project. A combination of biological, computer, and engineering sciences that would allow for a person's consciousness to be put into the cloud. It was a collection of devices that would be launched into solar orbit, capable of traveling between the stars on it's reserves and fusion cores, such that any geological issue or even the destruction of a solar system would be unable to cause fault to our digital survival.
 
Citizens were put through the process in order of their death date. It was such a tasking that many feared that they would die before they'd be converted. We did lose a few hundred to accidents before or on their death date, tragic losses, for what was of humanity now would be the only ones left in the foreseeable future. The process was made rapid to account for the billions that needed to be placed into the cloud but left the original an empty shell. There were fears that if the original was intact they would not truly migrate over. The people that initially converted found an empty world for themselves to do as they pleased. As more converted in, family members were waiting for them among the clouds. It was as those who came before us told. When you died, you were greeted by your family and friends that had since already passed. There was no more pain, only the life that you now wanted. By the final day, all of humanity had converted to the cloud. It was our death day, but also the beginning of our new synthetic life. | The virtually non-existent yet sternly constant flow of beeps,buzzers,and all kinds of sounds each coming from some gadget worth more than twice Jake's salary nearly took him to sleep as he forced himself to stand "You cannot dose off; you worked so hard to get here and i wont let you blow it!" he repeated to himself like a mantra as he stood to check the monitors of the nursery he scribbled the numbers from the screen and remained careful not to touch anything. The machines Jake was working with could tell everything about a baby- Potential defects,Health risks,personality traits and even the day that they would die. Jake,like all other workers at his level,had no idea how the machines worked and was quite sure no human alive did; nonetheless, he was happy and grateful for them as with all the 'gifts' AI had brought humanity.
"z-Zach" Jake muttered quivering as he transcribed the senseless scramble of numbers into dates on his computer "I - I think we have a problem here" He eagerly flipped his computer screen toward his coworker to reveal a screen filled with names, hundreds, no thousands of names followed by basic information like eye color hair color etc., but one column at the end was almost identical ... the one marked DeathDate.
"This is a bug right Zach?" Jake asked with a terrified tone, Zach had a degree in advanced computer science and compared to Jake was genius. "No this system can't bug, it's been run through the singularity several times .... I wonder why all these death dates are the same?" Seemingly triggered by Zach's words, the camera in the corner of the room looked away and all the dates were scrambled, some of the dates had already occurred.
"Zach ... i think we're being watched"
"I know"
"Z--zach that date was today"
"I know"
"what do w-"
Fsh-- The power suddenly went out cutting Jake off and sending the 2 into a panic, regardless of their struggles the door was somehow machine locked although the power had seemingly went out.
The 2 gravitated toward the window like moths to light and pulled the blinds; however, rather than being greeted by the illustrious light of the city they were met with a city of darkness, buildings like jagged pieces of brimstone shooting hundreds of feet into the sky defying the world unto which they were erected. The night held still in that moment in total darkness until a faint, red glow with no visible origin poured into the streets materializing out of thin air. Both men stood there like stones, unable to move or react they looked on as their world ended before them...
Sorry for bad writing/grammar mistakes this is my first post. | 2017-12-25T17:50:24 | 2017-12-25T14:14:17 | 1,408 | 13 |
[WP] You are wizard or witch summoning your first familiar. Your friends are summoning dragons and Chimeras you summon a white raven. Your friends laugh but the teachers look horrified. | Morden’s breathing, once slow and steady, now picked up as he left the spellcasting state. Light began to flood his vision as he slowly opened his eyes, peering around to locate his familiar. In a cloud of now evaporating yellow dust, Morden saw a white raven, sitting calmly on the wooden floor.
Immediately, shouts of laughter bombard the room as Morden’s class watches the small bird look around. It’s puny stature is comedic compared to the wild creatures they had summoned.
Morden started to frown as he realized his classmates were laughing at him. His eyebrows and lips furrowed in frustration at his visible lack of magic-prowess. His eyes glazed over from the embarrassment.
But before he could get too lost in the scene and let the ridicule take over his thoughts, a teacher grabbed his forearm painfully and whipped him okt of the room.
“Hey!” Morden cried, trying to rip his arm from the teacher's grasp. But they were firm, and Morden quickly caved in and let the teacher take him away. The sounds of laughter were quickly drowned out as he was dragged out of the room.
Morden noticed it was his least favorite teacher, Mr. Anthony, who had grabbed him. The thoughts of embarrassment now completely out of his mind, Morden was worried about where he was being taken, and why. What had he done? Morden also took notice of his familiar, the bright white raven, following him down the dimly lit, damp hallway.
They eventually arrived at Mr. Anthony’s office, where Morden was pushed into a padded chair, the door slamming shut behind the two. The raven, closed out, quickly appeared on Morden’s shoulder, which felt both comforting and foreboding.
“What is this?” Morden demanded.
“Shut up,” Mr. Anthony yelled. “I always knew there was something up with you and here it is.” Mr. Anthony was storming about the room, gathering things and closing others. He locked the second door in the room and pulled down the window blind to the outside. The teacher ripped open a drawer in his desk and pulled out a glowing sphere, which Morden knew to be a Link, a ball of pure energy that some caster’s used for certain tasks. Morden hadn’t used one yet, he was only a second year.
“What’s so suddenly wrong with me?” Morden asked aggressively, throwing up his hands to his sides. Mr. Anthony just threw a cold look back at Morden as he held the Link up to his ear, the sphere floating a few inches from his fingers.
“I’m gonna need backup on this one,” Mr. Anthony said into the Link. “A student just summoned a white raven.”
Before Mr. Anthony had finished his sentence, a man bursted through the door that Morden had entered from - it was Mr. Weston, Morden’s favorite teacher and friend. He was breathing heavily and holding a Link out to his side.
“What’s going on?” Mr. Weston asked breathlessly.
“Morden’s first familiar was a white raven,” Mr. Anthony said through gritted teeth.
“Shit,” Mr. Weston responded, now gripping his lower face with his hand in a thoughtful and surprised mannerism.
“Mr. Weston, what’s going on?” Morden demanded for the final time, clearly frustrated with the lack of answers.
“Morden, the white raven is the sign of the Demon Lord,” Mr. Weston explained coolly.
“Which means you’re a- ” Mr. Anthony started triumphantly.
“Which could mean a lot of things,” retorted Mr. Weston before the other teacher could finish. Mr Anthony just narrowed his eyes and turned back to the window, listening for communications on his Link.
“This… doesn’t…” Morden panicked to himself.
“Morden, Morden, don’t worry. Our number one priority right now is to keep everyone safe and figure out what’s going on.” Mr. Weston assured him.
“What’s gonna happen?” Morden asked quickly.
“Well, we might get some company now. And, as the name suggests, it should mostly consist of demons, so, prepare yourself,” Mr. Weston now had a hand on Morden’s shoulder.
“Oh, n- ”
“There are enough teachers on campus to protect everyone, including you. Just, be ready to fight in case.”
Morden’s breathing was twice as fast now, which made him panic tenfold to make matters worse. Morden took a few deep breaths, and closed his eyes for a moment. He looked over to his white raven, who had jumped onto Mr. Anthony’s desk. Confused and scared, he quickly looked away. Morden wasn’t sure what the creature meant for him right now, so he found it best to wait to mull it over later.
“We’re gonna figure it all, out,” Mr. Weston muttered to himself as he spread his legs past shoulder width to ready himself.
*I liked this prompt a lot. I think this could set up for some pretty cool stuff* | We were all excited. Beginning of 4th year marked when we would summon our familiar. The Master of our year explained the rules of summoning like we didn't know them already. A creature would come only if it was owned by your family, owed a debt, or intrigued by the summoner. Most of the other students came from wealthy families and had memageries of creatures that could be called. I had been raised by my grandfather after my parents had abandoned me at birth. Sadly, he passed during my first year.
It was time to begin. Our diagrams drawn, incense lit, and only an invocation was needed. The richest students called forth their familiars first as befitting there station. Dragons all of them, since anything less would be a disgrace to their family. The children of religious groups were next, summoning lesser angels, daemons, and plant-bloods. Merchants followed summoning exotic creatures from far-away lands. Craftsmen with golems, homonculii, and intelligent objects.
My best friend, also an orphan but found as a wildling, went before me. She was in the same predicament as I. Hoping to draw the attention of something, anything. Failure to call a familiar resulted in your banishment from the Academy. She finished her invocation and a chimera appeared! Dragon head in the center, wolf head on the right, and parrot head on the left. The Master gasped at the wonder of it.
"Child, we saw you kill a Rendzerker scout with a trap and a sharpened stick at only 6 years of age. Your bravery and cunning intrigued us," the dragon head growled. All three heads exclaimed, "We serve you!"
How was I supposed to compete with that? My grandfather was a lowly gaoler for the king living in a hut next to the dungeon. He only had a few pet rats before he passed. I spoke the words with trembling lips, afraid of the humiliation of having a rat appear or, even worse, nothing.
A faint blue flash revealed a white crow standing before me. No one else had a flash. Why me? The crow tilted his pinkish beak at me, blinked its green eyes, and ruffled its feathers.
The nobles started laughing first. As if they were a cue, the rest of the students followed suite.
"SILENCE!" The master startled everyone. "Weneslaus, fetch the Headmaster and ALL the guards at once."
The merchant boy ran off quickly and my crow hopped a few times until he faced the Master. "Really? Do you think they'll be enough? I may be a tad rusty but I think I can handle them easily" spoke the crow in a cultured voice. "Seems my theories on magic paid off. Being turned into a crow meant I was no longer human and could be summoned. I could not physically escape the king's prison, but the wards were meant for humans, not animals. So I pledged a debt to the gaoler as a reward for him bringing me better food than the slop the Chancellor alloted."
The crow then cawwed something that made my head hurt and caused a few of the students ears to bleed. The crow transformed into a lithe woman with white hair and green eyes. She then began casting combat magic. The first to shrivel to ash was the Master. Most of the other students followed soon after. Only me and my friend, Maisa, were left. She trembled and her familiar nuzzled her. The rest of the familiars now freed of their bonds quickly left.
"You did not laugh. You have a good soul," spoke the woman to my friend. "My name is Narsatha." The chimera growled, hissed, and squawked simultaneously.
We both gasped. Narsatha was an evil sorceress who had killed off the previous royal family. She pruned the royal tree to a stump. Legend said she was dead.
"I'm leaving before they can attempt to stop me," she sneered. "Have a good life boy. I hope they allow you another summon, but I bet you'll end up in the dungeon."
She waved her arms and disappeared. A second later so did I.
----
"Damnation! It looks like we are entwined due to that familiar ritual. I guess I better teach you how to survive being hunted by an entire kingdom. Hate to think what would happen to me if you died while we were still bonded," she whispered menacingly. | 2021-07-06T22:28:07 | 2021-07-06T22:22:14 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] The attempted assassination of a human dignitary at a galactic summit goes awry. Turns out, many of the conventional toxins in an alien assassin's repertoire include compounds like caffeine, theobromine and capsaicin; lethal to many species, but... less than effective on humans. | At first, it was entertaining. A meeting of diplomats, gathering and sharing gifts. A few too obvious looks and startled expressions.
It was innocent enough to begin with. A drink, supposedly a local delicacy. Yet it felt so much like an espresso that I could have sworn that Andromorph was from New Jersey. He even had the accent. Or maybe that was just the universal translator.
The looks he gave me after I finished it without blinking was, to say the least, unnerving. As if he didn't expect me to enjoy it as much.
Next was the Flagellians. They offered me a golden brown liquid that looked, smelled and tasted like a good Malt Whisky. Those guys quickly became my fastest friends. Especially after I quickly organised a trade deal for a few million units of the stuff. They were awful concerned about openly discussing it, but I made sure they knew I understood. Earth had its own prohibitions, after all.
The Andorians and Belvitiands were less welcoming. They offered me a platter of meats that, while appearing entirely vile, actually turned out to be perfectly seasoned strips of what they called "Interfectorem Cibum". When I coughed and hacked at the first bite, yet still went in for seconds, exclaiming "That's sone killer seasoning!" I swear they nearly attacked me on the spot.
It was the Pandorians, though, that nearly killed me. They, at least, had the decency to be apologetic when my throat swelled and bulged, blocking my breathing. In my defence, they did share the dish with me, the bread the delicious, and I savoured every bite.
Until, that is, they mentioned that we had a similar dish on earth.
Never had I cursed the invention of pecan bread more than I had in that moment. | “Woah that’s spicy!” I exclaimed before realising something was awry. Early on we had accidentally put some ambassadors in the hospital by serving them curry.
“I didn’t know your people had spicy food!” I exclaimed.
The aliens looked nervous, before one answered, nervously, “I’m glad you like it?”
I continued with “the only issue is that the caffeine, and I can tell the difference between regular and decaf, mind you, makes us humans have a bit of trouble going to sleep.
Later came desert, a chocolaty delight. They seemed surprisingly nervous the whole time. I have no idea why. I was clearly enjoying it. I guess it’s probably because I was able to get really good terms from them, to be honest, I was pleasantly surprised at their willingness to negotiate such generous terms.
**the story continues**
It was only after I got back to my ship that I realised: it was the Wowfolk\* that we had nearly killed with a curry. Spicy food was poisonous to them. This had been an assasination attempt. It had been pretty much us and the Proximans who could drink tea, eat chocolate, and stand peppers, and that was because Proxima was quite odd. I was on Tau Sagittarii, they would hardly serve spicy food here.
\* named for the wow signal | 2021-06-12T15:57:52 | 2021-06-12T15:15:25 | 490 | 132 |
[WP] You just let a hungry-looking couple into your home to feed them. As you go to turn off the TV, you hear, “under no circumstances should you answer the door today. They are not what they seem. And whatever you do, don’t let them inside...” | I set the hungry couple down in my den and hurried to my kitchen. It had been a very long time indeed since unexpected guests had arrived, and it mattered not to me that I didn't even know their names. I began drawing the water for a proper tea and leaned over to turn off the telly. Fingers on the button, and I heard, "Under no circumstances should you answer the door today. They are not what they seem. And whatever you do, don't let them inside..." I pause, my heart fluttering in my chest, before finishing my push. I am old, and I remember when things were... other than they are now. Children bustling in and out of the house, their friends and their friends families coming over for dinner on the weekends, my old pal hurrying off to work in the wee early mornings and coming home long after the sun had set. I shook my head - I didn't know these strangers, me, who never knew a stranger in her youth!, I didn't know them, but I was raised to feed the ones who were hungry, and water them too, so with a stubborn lift of my jaw, I continued my preparations. Were this my last tea I ever served, it would be the loveliest tea as well.
There wasn't much I could do about the sandwiches, of course. As an old pensioner, I am only afforded so much, and - compared to my old life - not much of that much would I consider luxuries. The bread slices were paper thin, and the cucumber a little wrinkled; a slice of egg instead of a whole egg apiece. I rummaged in my cupboard to find the last hint of preserves I'd left over, a reminder of happier days spent in my garden under the bright sunlight. Only a dab apiece - I let myself suck the spoon before placing the empty jar by the sink. It wouldn't do to put it in the rubbish before cleaning it; it wouldn't do at all. A thin bit of watered down milk to accompany the tea, the days of full, thick cream long past. Perhaps the fare was plain; but I made certain to pull down the finest china I had remaining from the days before to serve.
As I slowly tottered into the den, the man leapt up from his seat and insisted on collecting the tray for me. He exchanged looks with the woman, and they both said thank you, which was exactly the sort of response one might hope for when one has made tea at my age. There was not much more noise than polite chewing and drinking for a bit after that, and I nibbled on my own little sandwich as slowly as possible. How I had forgotten how pleasant it was to be in the company of other people for more than the weekly line! In short order, the tea was dispatched, and the couple exchanged shy glances before the woman spoke.
In pleasant tones, she asked, "Grantha, we... we haven't any money to repay you for your kindness, but..." Momentarily she trailed off, before starting again, a hard, eager light in her eyes. "Grantha, you risked much to allow us in and feed us. We have but one way to repay you, if you are willing to accept. We are Singers."
Singers! Actual singers! My eyes, I am sure, were wide with anticipation. It had been so very, very long since I last heard music. In stillness, in quiet, we crept about our daily tasks these days. Even children had been taken for singing or humming or noise making that wasn't in explicit praise of the powers in charge. My heart pounding, I nodded, excitement building in my very veins. I held up my fingers, little space between them. Quiet they must remain, or they would be found - but oh, please, to hear music just one last time!
Exchanging another glance, they nodded, and began singing a quiet tune. A haunting tune that spoke of better days. The most beautiful tune my two ears ever heard - I had silent tears running down my face. As they finished, I stood up, beckoning them to follow. Pointing at the dresser, I make a shooing motion. The man steps forward to move the dresser, exposing a tiny door. I hope they understand - I hope they make it. That tiny door leads to the outside, where they might - having had refreshments for the spirit and body - make it to a better place, where raised voices and glorious singing (singing!) are the normal, rather than the hidden and the punished. As they begin to climb through the door, I open my mouth. I show them the stub of my own tongue, removed so long ago. I show them the scar. I will be silent now, quiet as a mouse - I have no choice. Empathy fills their eyes and they begin to speak, but with a hammering at the front door, they exchange glances once more and flee.
I smile. Let them come. Were this my last tea I ever served, it had been the loveliest tea as well. | ######[](#dropcap)
You return from the kitchen, two plates filled with last night's chili chattering nervously in your hand. You hope to God the couple didn't hear the announcement on the TV before you had the wherewithall to turn down the volume.
As you enter the living room, the woman comes up to you and takes the two plates. She smiles and says "thank you so much, let me take those from you."
She brings the two plates to the coffee table, placing one plate in front of her and one in front of her companion. Beside each plate the woman puts a small spoon. The man watches her intently, his features a bit unsure. You can hardly breath.
Once the two plates are set up perfectly in front of each of them, the man takes the spoon and picks up a small amount of chili. Bringing it to his nose he makes a show of smelling it. Then he exclaims, with too much enthusiasm, "This smells delicious!"
The woman does the same, except she brings the whole plate up to her face to take a deep whiff. She inhales for longer than seems biologically possible, and then places the plate back on the table. Cocking her head slightly to the left, she smiles broadly, showing you her incisors. They are sharp.
"This smells delicious!"
The two of them sit there on your couch, not touching their chili. Neither of them even bends down to take a single bite. They just sit there, smiling strangely, as you watch, your hands shaking.
"Well, help yourselves." You say, brainstorming a way out of this situation. "I need to make a phone call really quickly, I'll be right back."
The man rises this time, standing perfectly still, but shaking his head mournfully. "We tried using a public phone earlier. The lines are out. Isn't that right sweetheart?"
The woman looks down at the chili and then up at the man. "That's right sweetheart. We tried to use a public phone earlier. The lines are out."
You smile meekly, fear growing in your gut like a norovirus. You walk to your phone anyway and put the receiver to your ear. Dead. You hang it back up, panic inching around the corner of your mind.
The man steps forward. Just one step. "You really should relax."
From the couch, the woman mimics him exactly. "You really should relax."
Without thinking, you pull out your cell phone and dial 911. The two people just look slowly at each other as you place the phone to your ear. Nothing happens. You look at your screen and see you have no service.
"We borrowed a stranger's cell phone," the woman says, "something is wrong with the cell towers."
The man nodded at her, placid, and turns to you, "That's right, we borrowed a stranger's cell phone, something is wrong with the cell towers."
Their synchronicity makes you panic in earnest. Looking around for a weapon, you pick up the fireplace poker. You weild it over your shoulder like a baseball bat. "Get the fuck away from me."
The man and woman look at each other again, completely unfazed. "Nothing is wrong Thomas. Relax."
The woman repeats him. "Nothing is wrong Thomas, relax."
You have not told them your name is Thomas. You run, headed full speed for your back door in your laundry room. You lock the laundry room door behind you and spin around. You try to unlock the back door, but the lock won't turn. "Fuck! What the fuck?" You struggle with the lock for nearly a minute before giving up. With reckless horror, you swing at the glass of the back door with the steel poker but it does not break, no matter how hard you hit it.
Beyond the glass of your back door it is broad daylight. You see your neighbor standing on his porch, looking out toward his car. You yell out his name, over and over, as loud as you can. But he does not move. Not an inch. You watch him for ten more seconds and he remains frozen in time.
You turn around.
The man and the woman stand directly in front of you. "Thomas, we are hungry."
"We are hungry Thomas."
Slowly their jaws open, unlocking at the joints, wider and wider, until you are staring down the gaping holes of their throats.
You scream.
No one hears.
******
## For More Legends From The Multiverse
# r/LFTM | 2018-03-14T11:17:41 | 2018-03-14T08:53:00 | 113 | 58 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | "My Lord! My Lord!"
The captain, a large yellow cat holding a rather impractical spear in one clawed hand, jumped nearly a foot in the air before turning around guiltily. "Blast it yeoman, what is it? It's almost time for my hunting break."
The yeoman came to a halt, breathing heavily. "It's the humans, sir. Our long range scanners are picking up error signals from their world!"
The spear creaked dangerously in the captain's hand. *"What!?* I was assured that problem was dealt with!"
The yeoman fidgeted nervously, "Well, yes sir-"
"We put warp interdiction fields over their entire system!" the captain snapped, "Anti-Grav-blockers, too, not to mention a half dozen others. Keeping them on that bloody dirtball has been the most expensive endeavour in galactic history! Any means for leaving their planet should be permanently blocked; What danger could they possibly pose *this* time?"
The yeoman, nervously looked down at his printout, slightly ragged where his claws had nervously punctured the edges. "Um...well, according to this, they've achieved orbital flight. Even visited their moon again, sir - and their first probes are leaving their system as we speak."
*"WHAT!?* How!?"
"Well, it appears that they, um, strapped small crews of their species atop giant towers of explosives, sir."
"...what."
"T-that's just what it says, sir."
"...By Akltar, I'd almost forgotten how insane they were." He rubbed his eyes wearily. "Please, at least tell me that's the most they've accomplished?"
"...um."
"*Akltar Blasted Damn it!* Everything, yeoman."
"Well, they've established a global intelligence network, sir, so we were able to acquire a surprisingly large amount of information. It appears they have plans for more powerful rockets, powered by nuclear explosions."
"You mean nuclear reactors."
"Um...no, sir."
"...Damn it." | The group of generals, different in species, all huddled around the table that projected the approaching human fleet. The human warships were depicted in red, while the Combined Galactic Alliance's ships were in blue. Every blue dot outnumbered the red three to one. But yet the red dots were fast approaching the thick lines of blue.
The tallest general among the group, with four bulky green legs on the ground, his skin covered in green scales, turned towards the rest. "The humans do know that a full frontal assault on our combined blockade only has a 30% chance of succeeding right?" his voice boomed across the room.
A shorter figure, his furs almost covering his eyes, raised his equally furry arm to speak. "I believe they do, General Alrak. But from our past encounters with human fleets, they never cared about the statistical chances of victory."
Murmurs fell across the room, as the various generals recounted their own tales of skirmishes and battles with the human fleet. Human were the first species to exhibit behaviours that do not conform to the standard way of acting, often barging into battles despite the odds stacked against them.
General Alrak raised his hand to silence the room. "Colonel Csaz, what is this thing that the humans have, anyway? That makes them so foolishly brazen?
"Hope, sir. I believe that's what the humans call hope."
General Alrak smiled. "Alright, lets see if their hope today can stand against the proven mathematical probability that we have. Prepare the fleet!"
------
/r/dori_tales | 2017-03-05T22:11:49 | 2017-03-05T18:30:59 | 2,747 | 246 |
[WP] "It literally could not get any worse if we summoned Cthulhu, and in fact might improve the situation somewhat."
UPDATE: I must say, I did *not* expect a cheap [Godzilla Threshold](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GodzillaThreshold) prompt to become my most upvoted post. I'm quite enjoying all of your stories so far, so keep it up! | "It literally could not get any worse if we summoned Cthulhu, and in fact might improve the situation somewhat!" Mike yelled, slamming his fist on the table, causing the scattering of cans and bottles to rattle.
"Mike, I swear to god if you keep complaining about the election I'm going to stop coming out with you." Carl sighed as he pitched the bridge of his nose.
"Seriously man, you've gotta stop with it" Cthulhu flanged as he reached down and delicately picked up a keg between his fingers. Raising it to his face, he flicked the top with his clawed thumb and rocked his head back, draining its, contents in one gulp. Groaning with contentment, he crushed the empty keg between two fingers. "I come here to blow off steam, not get roped into running for office again." | The TV just continued to softly humm in the background, news anchors muttering in seeming shock. "Donald Trump will be the 45th president of the United St-" the TV clicked off and the cultists sighed.
"It literally could not get any worse if we summoned Cthulhu." One said. "And in fact, it might improve the situation somewhat." | 2016-12-22T03:07:08 | 2016-12-22T01:28:16 | 50 | 24 |
[WP] It was supposed to be an easy burglary. Husband left for work at 6, kid left for school at 7, and the wife left for shopping at 12. You go in at 12:30 to grab a TV and some jewelry. Breaking in and finding the husband, kid, and wife hanging from the ceiling was definitely not part of the plan.
[removed] | (First Comment here, thanks for your patience)
This was meant to be child’s play. Spent the week casing the joint. Knew their routines knew how they worked and went about their lives. Or so I thought. Slowly creep around back making sure to avoid the prying gaze of the neighbour Mrs. Arthur.
Back door left unlocked? “Too easy” I softly muttered under my breath as I quietly stepped in to the kitchen. The interior of the house was even more beautiful on the inside. Opulent even. There’s no way some two bit security guard and his wife could afford a place like this let alone the Maserati parked outside in the carport. What were these people playing at? Sifting through the kitchen drawers for anything valuable there isn’t much to see. Cheap bastards son’t even have any real silverware.
Heading to the front room I notice the curtains are all drawn. Heavy black out curtains stop even the barest speck of the outside world from coming in. These people must have plenty to hide in this room. As I round the corner that’s when I see them.
Mom, Dad, and little kid all hanging upside down from the ceiling. I hear the kitchen door slam from where I came. I turn to look only to feel a cold hand on my shoulder. The father is standing before me looking down with cold black eyes.
I can’t move. My body feels like it’s frozen and as I start to come to terms with what’s happened he speaks in a slow chill voice that freezes my blood like liquid nitrogen. “Well, I didn’t think you’d actually have the balls to try this. Sadly, I can’t let you leave here now. You try to live a peaceful life but you humans are always so troublesome.” He kneels down in front of me looking me in the eyes. “No family, poor, homeless, forced to steal to get by. The rat caught in the Lion’s cage.” He looks my sorry state once over. “You have balls and I like that. So I’ll offer you a choice.” The wife snickers from over his right shoulder. “You can either join us for dinner, or we’ll be having you for dinner. What do you say, son?” | It was supposed to be an easy job. You just had to rob this family's house, as the father owed money to your hirer, and needed to get the money. You knew about the safe in the space between the floorboards, and where its passcode is. "Top floor, to the right, under the dresser" you repeated in your head. You had spent several weeks planning and watching, analyzing the family's everyday schedule and you knew that the entire family was gone by 12:30 AM. It was go time. You slowly pick the back doors lock, and it opens by a crack, no sign of a soul. Perfect. You creep into the house, prepared to start taking stuff when you see it. The family is still in the house. *Dead.* You almost scream, but you stop yourself. You have to keep your cool. You started to examine the bodies, as you still have to get the money and report as much information to the hirer. The entire family was hung, suspended by their necks. The ropes they used were bolted to the ceiling and were made of what looked like wire. You continue through the house, being careful just incase it *wasn't* a family suicide. Everything was clean, not a speck out of place. It was almost like this meticulously planned out in such a way there would leave no trace. You feel increasing paranoia as you head to the room with the safe. You feared what you would find. What you did find was even more scary that the bodies. *Yourself...*
​
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
First comment on here :) needs a proofread, not the greatest either | 2020-10-18T07:14:15 | 2020-10-18T03:09:54 | 97 | 35 |
[WP] Every generation the five brightest are paired up with the five dumbest in the world for a mysterious test. You are one of the ten, but nobody knows from which group they came. | "Ladies and gentlemen. Now that we've explained why you are here, we will commence the first half of the exam: the written portion. Your first question is the following: 'Consider the existence of humanity: What is the meaning of your own life?' You have five minutes to complete this question. You may begin."
I stared blankly at the man facilitating the test. I felt a little worried at the complexity of this first question.
'Should I answer it simply, or give a more in-depth answer? What would appear more intelligent..?' I thought. I picked up my pen and started to write. My eyes continued to stare straight forward, as my pen glided effortlessly across my paper.
Thoughts of my past, present, and future all passed through my mind as my hand seemed to write without command. The words were flowing seamlessly through my head, and I smiled as I concocted a great response. I stopped writing just as the moderator asked us to put our writing utensils down.
Was the meaning of my own life summed up by this test? I considered briefly that they were truly measuring our intelligence by an exam, and I for one did not know which group I fell into: the brightest, or the dimmest, of mankind upon the face of the earth. I silently prayed that I would be found in the brightest.
"Participants, please turn over your papers, and answer this next question: 'Mahatma Ghandi is quoted as saying: 'Be the change you wish the see in the world.' How have you become a change in this world?' You may begin."
My brain only took a moment before I started writing feverishly. I wanted to share as much content as possible. This wasn't a show of efforts or how great I was, I wanted to express an idea that had lodged itself so firmly in my head that it had to be expressed on this paper in the next few minutes, or I would lose my chance. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I had had an epiphany!
"Pens down, please. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, this concludes the written portion of the exam. You may examine your work, but may not change or add any additional content. Any attempts at doing so will automatically disqualify you for a positive result. You have 60 seconds."
I sighed a proud sigh of relief. That kind of relief you get when you finish a day of hard work. Only ten minutes had passed, but I felt that my work was an accurate reflection of my true thoughts, and I knew the administrators of the test would be impressed by my eloquence. I glanced down to summarize my work and reaffirm what I had just recorded. Maybe generations to come would be able to appreciate this. I knew I would. I almost died of horror.
I had never taken the cap off of my pen.
And in that moment, I knew for sure which group I would be placed in. | I woke in small metal container. The walls had the wavy pattern of a cargo crate, and the size fit the idea as well. There where ten of us, I was the first to wake up. It was clear what was happening, I had been told of the risks when I submitted my paper.
I was about 21 at the time and had just finished my philosophy paper. I knew it was good, even from my harsh self criticism. It was another unmistakable 100, and over time, that brings unwanted attention. My prof had told me a few weeks earlier that I should start making mistakes, but I had to much honour in what I did. Although discovering the meaning to life might have been a bit flamboyant. On my way home from the school I could already hear the helicopter. They followed me, and I knew I had overdone it.
Now I was in a small container with four other people sleeping on the ground, and five other in full blown comas. The sound of their heartbeats on the machines eventually woke up the other four strangers.
"...oh shit does my head hurt..." the old man in the brown vest yawned. I could recognize him from his popular book series; TARN BACKSTER Learn The World And Its History.
"FUUUCK!" The woman in the blue vest yelled as she realized what was going on. She had been on television the night before receiving a scientific achievement award.
Two other men woke up silently. They both knew what was going, and everyone knew them. Mark Cameer, and Ben Owen. They had been famous for being here more than ten consecutive times in a row. Mark was a grandmaster, and Ben was a musician. They knew each other very well by now, and started up a conversation.
The girl in the corner woke up last, but it was obvious from the first look that she was different. Drool hung down from her sticking out tongue, and she had strong characteristics of some with down syndrome. "REEEEEEEEEEEEE" she gave a battle cry similar to a howler monkey as she woke up.
"HELLO, I AM D99100, IT IS NICE TO MEET YOU"
I was startled to hear the robotic voice. One of the men in a coma was clearly now attached to a different machine. That was when I realized the girl wasn't with my group, but instead the computer attached to deeply sleeping man. | 2016-03-03T08:00:40 | 2016-03-03T05:36:34 | 31 | 17 |
[WP] At birth, everyone is given an object to protect that is tied directly to their life. If the object is damaged then the person is hurt, too. If the object is destroyed then the person dies. | Today is the day I become a full person. Today is my 16th birthday.
 
Today is the day my parents and I go to the Soul Vault. I've never been inside though I've heard the stories. Mountains and mountains of every object imaginable wrapped in bubble plastic. Automated scanners cataloging every item's resonance to the birth records of the day.
 
Inside the vault one object contains part of me. Without it I will never be whole. With it I will be vulnerable. Whatever it is, once someone comes into contact with their Object they can't stand being separated from it again.
 
I'm nervous. I put my hand on the glass plate and confirm my identity. The service clerck drones on about machines on the inside of the Vault fetching my Object. I barely listen. All kinds of doom scenarios flash before my eyes. What if it's a light bulb? Or worse, a vial of trinitrotoluene? How would I ever live my life having to carry such a fragile object around?
 
I could live with a piece of wood. Ever since that ancient king plenty of people resonated with a piece of wood. Everybody understands why they stay away from bonfires and barbecues. I'd even manage living with a piece of girlish jewelry. While mocked in high school, later in life women usually threw themselves at men with a female Object. All women wanted to be the one trusted enough to wear their partner's Object.
 
What if I unwrap the protective plastic and inside there'd be more bubble plastic? Who can resist popping bubble plastic?
 
Or an egg? No, don't be silly, living things can't be Objects.
 
Or what i- ... I kill my train of thought and draw a deep breath. The hatch in front of me opens and a small box is pushed out. Good. At least I won't have to go through life pushing a boulder around. I like skiing way too much for that.
 
I open the box and start unwrapping the plastic. Luckily my parents can't see how badly my hands are shaking. I read the tiny card that comes with the Object and suddenly become very calm.
 
"Well, honey?" my mother inquires expectantly with a tinge of worry. I smile broadly and show my Object.
 
"Don't worry, mum, my Object is a tungsten D20." | I was playing ultimate frisbee when I felt like I'd been punched in the face. A few seconds later, I felt another phantom punch to my gut, and I nearly passed out.
*What did you get yourself into this time, Jeremy?*
---
Let me back up for a moment. When we were born, Jeremy and I each had an avatar just like everyone else, but my mom did a bit of soul magic to combine mine and Jeremy's avatars into one.
Why? I don't know. Maybe she wanted us to be close like her and her sister never were. Or maybe she believed some weird superstition about twins, which is exactly what you'd expect from someone who actually did *soul magic* in this day and age. Ugh.
Either way, now whenever Jeremy goes off and does something stupid, our shared avatar gets damaged, which means **I** get hurt.
---
Ok, back to the present. "Kevin, call – argh! - call 911!"
Kevin had seen this enough times to know exactly what was going on. A few minutes after he dialed 911 an ambulance showed up. I was still getting "pummeled."
"Hi, yeah, my friend over here's in a lot of pain. I think he might have left his avatar in the washing machine again!"
The paramedic said something I couldn't quite make out.
"Oh yeah he has avatar insurance. Blue Cross, I think."
They hooked me up to an IV and I felt my mana starting to return. Now, I felt each "punch" less and less until there was virtually no pain. At this point Jeremy had almost definitely gained the upper hand in whatever idiotic bar fight he'd started.
---
One of these days, I'm going to find one of those soul magic weirdos and get them to decouple our avatars. And then Jeremy's finally gonna have to deal with not having me around to bail him out.
| 2015-04-18T03:19:00 | 2015-04-18T00:21:56 | 67 | 19 |
[WP] In a world where what doesn't kill you literally makes you stronger, you run a clinic that gives people near-death experiences. | This is what kills you:
Heart disease. Cancer. Stroke. Alzheimer's. Diabetes. Influenza.
Five days a week I go to work and this is how I make people stronger:
The woman's on her knees with a plastic smock around her neck to catch the blood and two nurses behind to catch her, her eyes going crossed as I wheel the bolt gun to within an inch of her skull. It's a modified version of the ones we use to kill cattle, calibrated to almost kill her, almost. Just as close as we can manage without going over the line. They're quiet, all of them, worshipful, in their own nihilistic way almost eager. I shaved her head beforehand to make the surgery easier, and she knelt the same way as I ran the razor over her head, as we watched her dark brown hair fall in strands to the floor. It used to fall past her shoulders, a quarter way down her back. I don't know how long it takes to grow it. She watched it fall the same way she watches the bolt gun approach, with the silent anticipation of seeing herself be lessened, bit by bit.
Accidents are number four on the list of death, I tell myself. We're doing some good here, we're doing some good. Maybe one day she'll be in a car crash, and her head will whip forward and smash through the windshield. But her skull will have re-knitted by then, become strong enough to withstand a captive bolt pistol, strong enough to survive being smashed into a dashboard. Maybe, in some obscure way, I am saving her life.
There's nothing we can do about cancer, about Alzheimer's, about diabetes. Influenza we already inoculate against. We could be slipping endovascular tubing into patients' veins, simulating heart attacks, strengthening their cardiovascular systems. The technique exists. But there's no demand for it, at least not enough to cover costs. No one thinks to protect themselves from a heart attack until they have a heart attack, and by then you might as well let nature take its course. So here I am, shaving them clean, wheeling them in for slaughter.
There are protests. There are pro-harmers. You've heard about the blogs, surely, you've seen the slogan. *Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger.* They file in with wrists and forearms encrusted with scars, immune to blades. We take their blood tests and discover they're immune to benzos. There's always the same thing, there's always the same refrain: "I'm making myself stronger." Who can argue with that? They do it at home, they poison themselves by inches, they cut away at themselves bit by bit until it stops working. And then they come to us.
Here are the top ten causes of death, formally, this time:
Heart disease.
Cancer.
Chronic lower respiratory diseases.
Accidents.
Stroke.
Alzheimer's.
Diabetes.
Influenza and pneumonia.
Nephritis, nephrotic syndrome, and nephrosis.
Suicide.
I touch the tip of the bolt gun to her head, and she closes her eyes and accepts it like a blessing. I press down on the trigger, and today my work begins. | “I know I forgot something, just what was it again?” Andrew said in the car.
“You didn’t forget anything hun, and if you did I would’ve remembered,” his wife replied.
“I know, but there’s just something nagging me,” he said. “Let me check just one more time.”
“We’re going to be late like this hun,” she said. “Just leave it be.”
Andrew ignored her, and went upstairs to check his room again. He didn’t want a repeat of his last trip where he forgot his wallet and was forced to have his wife pay for everything. He looked around the room once again, in the drawers, behind the bed, and under the mattresses, but didn’t find whatever was nagging him. Then just as he was heading downstairs to check the living room again, he remembered what he had forgotten.
“Hey honey?” he shouted out from the front door.
“Yea?” she shouted back.
“Actually I remembered what I had forgotten, but it’s gonna take a while,” he said. “I’ll just meet up with you at the airport.”
“You sure hun?” she said. “I can wait.”
“Nah I’m good, just go on ahead.”
“Alright,” she said.
Andrew then went back into the house as his car left the driveway, and headed towards the basement. He unlocked the door and walked down the stairs, and when he reached the bottom he moved his hand along the wall to find the light switch. The light flickered on, and a muffled moan erupted from in front of him.
“Oh I’m sorry, does it still hurt?” he said to the tied up woman lying on the floor.
The woman replied to him with more muffled moans.
“You know the drill though,” he said to the woman as he walked towards the wall to his right. “Once you’ve signed there’s no going back.”
The woman now screamed through the cloth gag between her teeth as Andrew walked towards the wall filled with various torture devices. He picked up a bloodied saw off of it.
“Now I’m gonna be on a trip for a while, so sorry for taking the last two off right now,” he said smiling at the saw. “At least you get a couple days of rest as I’m gone right?”
The woman continued screaming as she struggled to escape to no avail. Andrew walked towards her with the saw in hand, and placed the rigged edge onto the woman’s right shoulder. The left leg had started to regrow, but the left arm was still a bloodied stump.
“You know this hurts me a lot more than it hurts you,” Andrew said with the saw ready.
The woman screamed one last muffled scream, before the saw began tearing flesh and bone, and then she fainted once more.
| 2016-08-21T07:02:17 | 2016-08-21T05:53:05 | 103 | 13 |
[WP] Instead of this title, take any title from your Reddit frontpage as prompt
As long as it's not from /r/WritingPrompts | [Camera drone that follows you](http://www.reddit.com/r/interestingasfuck/comments/2a1owg/camera_drone_that_follows_you_xpost_from_rgifs/)
Day 83
It's still there. I can see it there. I woke up at 10:37, and it was outside the window. Went in for closer look; moved away. At 11:03, was outside house. Looked at me. Flew away. Spent rest of day outside office window. Watching me.
Day 116
Woke up at 9:58, it was under bed, ignored it. Made breakfast, was behind me, ignored it. Stayed in and watched football, was behind sofa. Watching me.
Day 171
26 days passed; no sign of it. Normal day. Sarah moved in with me. Eye drops aren't working - must consult doctor, itching is unbearable.
Day 175
I never knew my eyes were different colours.
Day 176
Went through holiday photos from last year. Both eyes were blue.
Day 177
Woke up, both eyes are now blue. Whoever they are, they fixed it.
Day 178
Cars outside house today. Both black. Men were outside cars. Followed me all day. Watching me.
Day 1
Life boring, thought it may be smart to start keeping a diary. Make every day less tedious. Sarah says she thought I had one before; think she's going nuts. Complained all day about her eye itching. Probably nothing. She'll see the doctor tomorrow.
| http://www.reddit.com/r/dataisbeautiful/comments/2a1s4j/yes_money_does_buy_happiness/
---------------------------------------
"Yes, money does buy happiness doesn't it?", said the well dressed man bitterly slamming his glass onto the bartop.
"Well it does doesn't it? It's security isn't it? You never need to worry about sudden bills, whether you can afford medical care, anything really if you have enough money", replied his companion.
"That's why I'm so fucking happy isn't it. It really saved my mother didn't it? She's perfectly alive and happy as a vegetable. And my son's so fucking happy that he got such a big fancy tombstone isn't he", shouted the man throwing his glass against the wall
"You know that's not what I meant.", continued the companion, "It's been ten years now, if it weren't for your money you'd have died of some drug overdose by now, but your wealth lets you continue despite your problems, it's helped you find a new family, to move on - at least for 364 days out of a year"
"Go fuck yourself", the man replies leaving with both the bottle and his car keys. | 2014-07-07T10:10:44 | 2014-07-07T09:50:30 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] You are the city's premier supervillain, but you have a secret. The crimes you commit are not for gain, or to hurt people. You are always subtly testing and pushing 'your' heroes to excel, to be the best they can be. Then a villain with a reputation for murdering heroes shows up in town. | "There is a time and place for everything."
Faultline shivers, eyes beseeching the darkness to give up the nightmare contained with in. He'd heard of the creature, a hero twisted and malformed until it switched sides. It slaughtered its friends and civilians alike before vanishing entirely.
He thought it had died.
It laughs, voice echoing in the empty warehouse.
He can't quite pinpoint the sound.
The darkness swells twenty feet away before spitting out a six-year-old girl with flowing waves of auburn hair.
Faultline recognizes it as a child he killed two days prior. He steels his spine, but the quaking fear does not abate.
It looks at him with wide, blind eyes. The innocent expression it carries is tainted by a growing smile; it splits the corners of its mouth until black blood drips from the wounds.
The air is... sweet.
"What do you want, Skinwalker?"
Another laugh, this one high and lilting with the memory of spring. "So you recognized me..." The 'skin' splits in several places and falls to the ground as tall, lanky creature of shadow and bones shoots out of its prison. "I admire you, and I would like to make..." The 'skin' disolves into shadow and slides back into Skinwalker's core. "...a deal."
Faultline freezes for a moment, mind racing as a thought comes to mind: demons make deals for the victim's soul. When his mouth comes unstuck, he musters enough courage to ask, "what kind of deal?"
Skinwalker's milky eyes crinkle in amusement, and with one long, lanky arm, it caresses his face. "Hope."
"What?"
Another skin blooms around the beast, revealing the hero it once was. Anastacia Klaudia Skin was the superhero named Skinwalker, a shapeshifter that could turn into any animal she came into contact with. She was the hope-giver... She was the one to still fearful hearts and sooth crying children...
She was the one who refused to turn into another human or humanoid.
Skinwalker smiles so sweetly. "I know you kill heroes, Faultline... and I do not mind, if it is not one of the children."
Faultline knows what it references: the junior heroes.
"Hope is addicting," it continues. "I would be so very annoyed if hope died out in this city." Faultline knows what it will do if he refuses; the city's history of random villains who vanish within a few weeks suddenly make sense. "Do we have a deal?"
Faultline nods and takes its outstretched hand. "Deal." | My heros. I dont know what happened, if i let them be. They wouldve probably turned into villains. Good, that i was there.
I lead them to great success, i was the one who made them famous, i was the one, that let the people believe in them. My plan was perfect, until this certain guy showed up. 'Nightscream'. An arrogant, aggressive and bloodhungry murderer. I always kept my heros away from him. He was a number too big for them.
This is the 3rd time he showed up. This time at a conference. "I give you heros one chance to give up. One last chance. Then nobody here gets hurt", he looked provocating around. I was there, too. Just to be sure. Damn, i have a good timing. My fist were ready to punch, and i slowly stood up from my place. The heros, infront of everyone at a podest, were alarmed. "Tell us, what you want, villain. And we dont hurt *you*", the leader Seraph said calm.
Nightscream laughed quietly. Gently, he said "You dont know, who youre talking to, do you?" "I talk to a murderer, who killed too many humans. You are the scum of society." Time to show up. He will kill them, if nothing happens.
"Nightscream. What are you doing in my town?" I went slowly the whole way to the podest, very dramatic and cool. "Ahh, hello, Nox. Do you join me?" "You know what i think of you. Now leave, or i will kick you personally out of this town. Understand me?" "Oh, you made your point clear. Now its my turn. Join me, or get killed with this heros. Your decision." He really wanted to challange me.
"Come here, fool. Lets see, who is doomed, you rookie", i went faster and stared directly in his eyes. "This town only has space for one villain, and thats me." And for this moment, everyone was stunned, looking at a fight, no one ever saw before. A fight, between 2 villains. | 2021-05-20T08:00:26 | 2021-05-20T07:28:17 | 78 | 51 |
[WP] In this world, soulmates cannot hurt each other in any way or form, intentionally or unintentionally. You are an assassin hired to eliminate a powerful figure. As you close in for the kill, your bullets miss their mark and knives bounce of their skin. Things just got awkward. | Juliet lay silent, forcing herself to control her breathing. Gently. Slowly. She had to calm down.
It wasn't meant to have happened like this. Whether the King annexed Tushesh or not, it wasn't her decision. It had just been her idea. A good idea too, as it would provide much needed access to the East-Sea, and open the trade routes with the bearded men of Asnar. And much more, besides.
> Juliet felt something against her back. It was like someone had shoved her hard, and she almost fell as she stumbled forward.
There were, as expected, many opponents to the idea. The Tushesh fundamentalists, of course. They believed their tiny kingdom had the right to autonomous self-sovereignty. That was incorrect. No one had a given right to anything. *Steel*. The blades and the people who wielded them, that was what gave kingdoms their right.
> She turned. Behind her was only the distant tree-line of the Elder Forest. No person, that she could see.
> A glimmer near her feet caught her eye. She looked down to see an object shining orange, reflecting the evening sun.
> The arrow lay flat on the grass, harmlessly. Innocently.
There were others that opposed it, too. People from within their own kingdom, who didn't believe that it was right to take land from other countries just for personal gain. Those too, who thought that holding onto the country would be an impossibility if the people of Tushesh did not want it. There would forever be resistance. Infighting. Violence. And how much money would it take to quell them?
These people, she knew, had a point.
> The man stepped out of the trees, his hands by his side. He had dark skin and blue eyes and Juliet was certain he was foreign. There was a bow strapped over his back.
> "Who are you?" Juliet shouted. "Did you... Why didn't it hurt me?"
> "I can't hurt you," replied the man. He stared into her eyes as he approached. He looked sad. Pained, in fact. More pained than anyone she had ever seen.
> Juliet swallowed. "You mean..." She'd heard stories but... it couldn't be real.
Yes, the people would resist. So Juliet suggested razing the cites of Tushesh completely. And its people. There would be no resistance, that way. Just new hills, here and there, where secrets would lie beneath. Never whispering. Never telling, of what they hid.
The legislation she carried only needed a signature.
> Juliet struggled against her bindings as the man dug silently into the ground with broken branches and stones.
> The forest floor was hard from the winter, but his progress was steady. The earth slowly opened its mouth, ready to swallow her.
>"Please," she wanted to say. "Please." But her cries were muffled.
It was so dark. And her chest was so heavy.
She could hear the paper in her pocket rustling with each laboured breath, as if it too struggled for air.
How long has she been here for now? An hour? A day?
Surely he'd come back for her. They were soulmates, after all.
What could be more important than fate?
| The setting sun marked the sky with a rouge tint of red, and the shadow of night began engulfing the capital of our beautiful nation. Yes, there had been problems before but they were all about to be fixed. Tonight, by my hand alone; or, so I thought.
Getting into the theater had been easy enough, despite the word going around about maximum security orders on all facilities he was attending - this, I owe to my semi-successful acting career. Thanks ma.
Of course, while waiting for the target to arrive, what man wouldn't stop and reconsider his decision? Even the most highly skilled assassin does it, and that's what sets us apart from the lunatics that always end up overdoing the job. Keeping some of the humanity, I'd been told, was the best way of escaping the guilt, and the best way to minimize the evidence of our presence. Had I known what would transpire, would I still have done it? To be honest, I'm not so sure. Earlier the cause had been so clear, beyond reason, but now... did it even matter?
And there he was. A stout figure, unlike any other in the whole country. Of course I acted inconspicuously, chatting up folks and looking altogether busy; textbook example really. Oh, I'm sure this'll go in the textbooks. For centuries and centuries to come.
I'd been entrusted with a companion who was to see to it that the job gets done and I don't screw things over, some over-entitled schmuck if you ask me. His idle posture nodded me towards the stairs - it was time. As I readied to enter the box I could've sworn I felt the uncommon rush of the heart that you sometimes feel when a part of your soul becomes affected by your actions. I'd taken that feeling for granted, assuming it was the rush of the moment taking its toll. Yet, my heart spoke even louder when I pulled the trigger onto that stupid, stupid tall hat of his! Why did I find it so charming! It hit me, as it does us all when life decides to joke on your behalf, when the bullet ricocheted in its abnormal fashion. He didn't have time to turn his head, but I know, just as well as he did at that moment, what he felt. It wasn't chock or surprise, nor was it fear. I know it because I felt it too, and saw it in the corner of his eye and the lips that drew tighter. He didn't have time to turn around, though, before my sidekick shot him straight in the back of his skull. Maybe it was for the better, maybe it was not. I did not care to find out, once I ran away and exited the Ford theater. Abby, honey - I'll probably see you soon.
_____
r/PapilioCastor | 2018-04-24T00:03:12 | 2018-04-23T23:53:55 | 457 | 12 |
[WP] Turns out wishing on a star does work, it just takes about 81,000 years for the wish to get to the star and back, and for the future civilisations of earth, its pure chaos.
Thanks for the amazing story responses on this. ❤️ | "I've found it! It's the right distance and everything!" Doctor Redux collapsed into the bunker where the presiding Head of Supernatural Defense, Peyton Pine, spun his chair around, watching the monitor to see how many disasters would fall upon the planet today.
"Found what? What are you babbling about, Redux?" Pine asked impatiently, plugging in orders to his console to destroy the three super ultra killer dinosaurs coming up from behind the moon.
"The wish center! I found where it goes! Where it *still* goes!" Redux said, gasping for breath and tossing a dozen screens down that emitted different images to Pine.
"I am not filling in the gaps here Redux, break it down for me," he said, then suddenly put his palm up to silence Redux as he flipped a communicator on his wrist. "Looks like clouds are gathering to rain money over Old Europe. Send in Omega Squad. I bet it's physical coins that could hurt someone on the way down."
Pine lowered his hand and nodded to Redux.
"We figured out that all these anomalies are wishes being granted from ages ago, but we didn't know why. People would speak some wishes to asteroids and the answers came now. I figured out why that's the case," Redux explained, tapping on one of the screens to show Pine a picture of a planet. Pine kept his focus on his communication screen, sending out a legion to disarm to magic unicorns that were forming out of flowers in the Panlantic Ocean.
"What does this have to do with anything? I don't think we particularly care about the wishes except to stop them from being granted," Pine asked sternly.
"Wishes get caught up in the asteroid until it either fizzles out in our atmosphere, collides with the Earth, or flies by. Once the asteroid dies, the wishes collected in it are sent," Redux continued quickly, showcasing more screens and holograms that Pine continued to curtly ignore.
"Again, why do I care?" Pine spat.
"Well, I found that all the wishes head to a certain direction. They head to this point of the universe and once they are received they are immediately granted. Only, that spot is over 80,000 lightyears away from us, so it takes a while for the wish to arrive. But when they arrive, they're granted," Redux said.
Pine hesitated with his finger over a button. He looked at Redux, his face taut.
"The wishes go somewhere? Where?" Pine asked.
"It's a planet we haven't gotten around to naming. I called it Wish-1," Redux answered, showing Pine a tablet that he picked up and took interest in.
"So... this is the source?" Pine breathed.
"It all checks out. No matter where the asteroid was wished on in the past, exactly 81,002.5 years later, it gets answered. Give or take a few minutes, in case an asteroid dies in the sun or something," Redux replied.
"We destroy this thing... And wishes have no where else to go? This all ends?" Pine asked, red lights blaring from the console behind him.
"So far as I can tell, but... do you really want to do that?" Redux asked, scared.
"Why wouldn't we!?" Pine yelled, spinning around and answering half a dozen distress calls in the span of two seconds. "We wouldn't have to live in 24 hour surveillance of anomalies worldwide! Heck, most of North America might still exist!"
"Sure, but... what's answering the wishes. Do you think firepower can overwhelm it?" Redux asked, his voice small.
Pine spun back around, his face in shock as he took anther look at the tablet in hand. His eyebrows furled, as if trying to find a specific item in the holographic image floating inches away from him.
"We have to... We have to!" Pine said, sounding as though he was convincing himself over Redux.
"What if it retaliates?" Redux ventured.
"WE HAVE TO!" Pine exploded. "We're going to be torn apart otherwise! We rip the planet apart and hope that whatever was living there granting wishes dies along with its planet!"
Redux lowered his head, having come to the same terrifying conclusion. He shifted in place uncomfortably.
"Do you have any better ideas to stop this madness?" Pine sighed, turning back to the console and stopping a gold wave from crashing into the bunkers of Newstrailia by using a horde of ships to block the water.
"I don't have any better suggestions," Redux admitted. "I just wish I did."
_________________
r/Nazer_the_lazer is where I wish for you to go | # Soulmage
**The stars glared spitefully upon the glass plains of Hell's Shame, their unwavering gaze casting coruscating light over the liquid-crystal landscape.** Thorn shivered as they looked out on the beautiful, deadly sight. It had been two years. Two years since haunches of meat and great slain beasts of the past had began materializing, and one and a half since the origin of the distortion had been determined as extraterrestrial. A full-frequency analysis of local soulspace had revealed the undeniable correlation, and panic had burst out not long after. Because the rate of materialization was *increasing*, exactly in lockstep with historical population growth, and the destruction it had wrought had already crippled global society. If they had been faster... if they had breached exospace... maybe something could have been done.
Because it was very nearly a manageable problem. There was a finite power given to each wish granted; a large enough reality anchor set in exospace, and the materialization would have stopped before the turn of the seasons. Perhaps that power could have even been channeled into something productive, instead of wrecking power grids and shutting down hospitals when Sprig was on life support and Thorn was denied visitation rights and they only found out their child had suffocated from the hospital bill—
Thorn pushed the memories aside with weary resolve. It was like lifting a chrysanthemum engine: heavy, and they had to strain to do it, but simple as could be. Besides, there was hope.
Because even though the shardwaves had gone down and the government fallen silent, they'd disseminated crucial information about the crisis before they went. It was a phenomenon that pierced from soulspace to realspace to exospace, wishes causing ripples causing fluctuations outside reality when directed at a body with a large enough gravitational pull. Stars, in this case. And dividing the distance in soulspace by the velocity of a dream, trying to tap into that power now would take nearly eighty millennia, even if they wished upon the closest star in the night sky.
But not all stars laid in the night sky.
The horizon began to blaze, pink and green and gold setting the glass sea afire as Thorn watched. Watched and hoped with all their heart.
Because the sun was a star as well. And Thorn had wished upon it for the one thing they wanted most.
By their calculations, it would be now or never. Somewhere in soulspace, their wish had reached its destination; somewhere out in exospace, a being beyond their comprehension had attempted to grant it. The sun burned above the crystalline horizon, and Thorn's eyes ached as they stared into the blaze until they could stare no more.
And a single word shattered the silence like a meteor through a sea of glass.
"Thorn?" The voice was young. Confused. Had Sprig been that young? Thorn turned, blinking afterimages from their eyes, and saw Sprig standing in the darkened room, staring at their parent's silhouette against the rising sun. "Where—where am I? Are you okay? Why are you cry—*oof!*"
Thorn swept their child up in a broad, disbelieving embrace, and though Sprig knew not why they laughed as Thorn swung them around.
"Thorn? What's wrong? Why are we back at home? I—I remember I was sick, and then—"
"Shh, shh, shh, it's okay. We'll talk about that later." Thorn held Sprig tight and close. "It's okay. It's okay."
And as the sun hung high and wiped the stars from the sky, Thorn looked at their child and knew:
Sometimes wishes really did come true.
A.N.
This story is set in the world of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. To catch up on the rest of the story, check out [this post,](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=new) or r/bubblewriters for more. | 2022-12-08T19:44:01 | 2022-12-08T19:25:28 | 315 | 34 |
[WP] Your significant other is a god. However, they care little for the troubles of the world and enjoy simple things. It strains your relationship. One day after a heated argument, they touch and fill you with power. "Go on then, try to fix the world. Tell me how it goes after a few years." | "So you're telling me that you could have stopped this earthquake, but you didn't?"
"Of course I could have. But what you don't realise is that even gods aren't all-powerful. There is a certain balance that is to be maintained and had I stopped the earthquake, there is no telling what disaster might have unfolded in its place" Serena replied as she looked at the TV, as nonchalant as she could have been.
This was it. It was all great saying that your fiancee was a goddess and in many ways mean it, but knowing that she cared little for human life and just watched disasters unfold with apathy was incredibly frustrating.
"You're unbelievable. The death toll is in the thousands, millions of people have their lives uprooted and all you have is a stupid explanation about balance? Are you for real?" I pushed her off me and started to walk away.
"Nick, wait -"
"No. Just no. Do you know why I was so attracted to you? Because it was so great to know that my partner was someone who can actually make a difference, who can change the lives of countless people if she just cared a little bit"
"You do not understand -"
"It may have taken me a year, but I finally understand. You and every single member of your family are narcissistic, selfish arseholes who would watch the masses huddle over and pray, but wouldn't lift a finger to actually help your followers. If this is what religion actually is, then fuck you and fuck every other god who exists"
That pushed her over the edge. As I had gotten to know her and her 'family' better, it was obvious that they did not take insults lightly. As she got up and walked towards me, I could see storm clouds forming over the horizon.
I could smell the wine in her breath as she reached closer to me "You think it's easy for us, don't you? Just snap our fingers, and everything is hunky-dory with your world?" She stumbled a bit, then tried to regain her balance. She reached out with her hand and cupped my face, sending a surge of scorching heat through my body "Now you can do everything that I can. Go on then, try to fix the world. Tell me how it goes after a few years"
Without waiting for me to reply, she turned around and went back to the couch. I could feel the power surging through me, the kind of power that made you invincible. As she changed the channel, I gave her one last look and walked out.
I would show the gods how it's done. I would heal this world, or at least do a better job than they did.
\-------------------------------------------
It started out brilliantly.
To test out the limits of my new-found powers, I went to a secluded beach and summoned waves larger than anything in recorded history. As time slowly passed by, I mastered the elements and became the all-powerful being that Serena was. I changed landscapes with just a simple glance, tamed the seas with just a simple flick of my finger, put out wildfires with just a gentle blow. Being a God was fun, and being a helpful God was going to be even better.
The first time I was called into action was when I was walking through my town during a winter night. I could hear murmurs of two people, and it sounded like a mugging. I rushed to the spot and was just in time to stop the bullet from killing the victim. The mugger, astonished, turned around and fired three more bullets, all three of them falling to the ground right as they left the barrel.
"Who - who the fuck are you?" The mugger stared at me, fear evident in his eyes. He took a few steps back, then turned around and ran away. I decided not to give chase and walked away from the scene before the victim could see my face clearly - it wasn't the smartest of ideas to be identified as a god.
Things went uphill from there, but I didn't realise the consequences of my actions until a year after the mugging incident. I had been working from the shadows, preventing disasters before they could strike.
But the euphoria of being all-powerful didn't last too long. I'd started to notice the consequences of some of my actions. It was easy to miss them when the infractions were smaller, but as my acts of mercy became more pronounced, so did the aftermath.
If I prevented a hurricane from striking the coast of Bangladesh, there were heatwaves that led to droughts that resulted in hundreds of deaths.
If I stopped a volcano from erupting, the fauna of the nearby land wilted inexplicably until there was nothing in that area.
Everything I did ended up doing more harm than good. As hard as I tried, there was always something that resulted in more pain and suffering.
I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to know what was happening. Two and a half years after she'd given me her powers, I found myself yearning for Serena. I had to go back to her.
As I made my way through the street, I saw her standing on the porch waiting for me. Somehow she had known the exact moment I would come back. I climbed the stairs and looked at her, craving for answers.
"Why? Why didn't it make a difference?" I begged her, my voice cracking as I admitted defeat.
"It's simple, honey. We may be able to do a lot, but there are more powerful forces at play" she cupped my face again, and I suddenly felt a massive weight lifted off my shoulders.
"What could possibly be more powerful than a God?"
"I don't know how to explain it, but think of it as a cosmic version of Newton's third law. You did something, and that elicited a reaction. Now come in, I made you some hot chocolate" she took me by the hand and we walked inside.
​
\-----------------------------------------
This is my first try at a Writing Prompt - would love to hear how I can improve. Thanks for the prompt, u/lordhelmos | ##Whirlwind Romance
My ex is Zeus.
I know. I am a total cliché, and I already know what you are asking. No, Zeus did not seduce me by turning into a bull or swan. No, Hera did not try to kill me; she actually likes me. And most shocking, I never had kids with him, and I am not pregnant. So the next Heracles is going to have to come from some other woman. My story is a bit different from the myths of old.
Zeus and I first met at a bar. I was there celebrating my friend's promotion. He was the talk of the tavern with his dart skills. I consider myself good at darts so I immediately challenged him. He destroyed me, but we still hit it off. When he said his name was Zeus, I immediately made fun of him. He said that his mother wanted to honor their Greek heritage. He was slightly older than me with piercing blue eyes and salt and pepper hair. He wore a collared shirt that was too tight and had a few too many buttons undone. He said he was in management at a software company, and he bought my friends a round of drinks. I gave him my number later that night.
The first few weeks of dating were great. He is charming, funny, and sweet. After a month together, he said he had a surprise. He took me to the roof of his apartment and told me to close my eyes. When I opened them, I was soaring over the city. I freaked out and screamed of course, but he calmed me down. I felt so safe in his arms. He said that he liked me enough to tell me the truth about his divine nature. I initially worried about Hera, but he was flying me to Mount Olympus to resolve that issue.
Mount Olympus is everything it is made out to be and more. The buildings are are constantly changing to fit the mood and specifications of the occupants, but they still seem consistent and firm. The design of the overall city is simultaneously classical, futuristic, and natural yet it always seems harmonious. There was a constant feeling of peace and joy in the air. Zeus's castle was a shining utopia in an architectural style that probably hasn't been invented yet.
I met Hera in the atrium of the castle. She actually brought her boyfriend along to meet me. I forgot his name; he seemed pretty cute. Zeus explained that after several millennia of cheating they decided to be an open relationship with the condition that each of them has to approve their new paramours. Hera was the nicest woman I have ever met. She knew what I wanted before I even said it, and she changed the room décor for me. I don't how I pulled it off, but I got her to approve of my romance with her husband.
My relationship with Zeus was absolutely amazing after that night. He took me all over the universe and even into other dimensions. I could write a whole fantasy series after what I have seen with him, but after a while, I decided that I wanted a more normal relationship. All of the wonders after a while started to make me feel insignificant. I was just some ant who happened to fall in love with the king.
When I told Zeus about this, he agreed to limit our dates to normal human affairs. He was clearly unhappy and frequently divinely intervened in other people's affairs. He never hurt anyone. He would just give a homeless person the winning lottery ticket, or he would cure the taxi driver's mom's cancer. I started to feel small again, and I felt guilty. Who was I to demand that Zeus stop caring about other people. When I told him about my feelings, he accused me of being greedy and that I needed to see the true problems of the world to understand him. He touched me and gave me some of his power.
The universe is a horrifying place. There are tragedies occurring every day on a scale that no human can imagine. I tried broadening my horizons to beyond Earth for some relief, and I was even more horrified by the evil I witnessed. I tried to help: stop a flood, bring peace to a war-torn land, and cure someone's illness. It was never enough. There was always another force there that was pushing the world in the wrong direction. After one day as a god, I started to look for humans who were benevolent to give me hope for the world. Humans have no idea how evil the world is, but some manage to persevere and even manage to make the world slightly better. I understand why Zeus falls in love with humans so often; we are truly remarkable.
After a few days as a god, he took away my power, and he broke up with me. I understood why he did it. The gods like humans because of our ignorance. They use us as escapes from their awful world like how we would use a movie or a video game. When I gained his power and knowledge, he could not use me as an escape anymore. It still sucks knowing that he dumped me because I was too smart. I may have had a Nora Ephron marathon over the next few days to get over him.
I am documenting our relationship is to encourage others to do good in the world. I know I am ending with another cliché, but it is true. You have no idea how much better we can make the world. As I said earlier, I have been to Mount Olympus, and the gods are constantly in awe of our accomplishments. I have also seen the suffering and despair in the world, and I know how much we have to fight it. So please keep fighting.
---
r/AstroRideWrites | 2021-02-01T18:00:44 | 2021-02-01T15:00:57 | 106 | 16 |
[WP] The reason why we have not encountered alien life, is that our planet is in a quarantined part of the galaxy. And was deemed that no intelligent life would ever appear in that area. | "Welcome!" I held out my hand hand, a gesture that this new species regarded as a form of professional greeting. The small pink creature looked at me apprehensively, and slowly took my hand. "Please, take a seat, we will begin shortly."
I took my seat at the head of the table. Two other Zharhne-Iku representatives sat at my left and right. Across the table from us sat a group of *humans* as they call themselves.
We've done some research on this species in preparation for this meeting. They were a relatively small, oxygen breathing people that came from the 437-ZONI system. ZONI, of course, refers to the Zone of No Interest, a large portion of the galaxy where nothing of interest was predicted to develop.
These humans achieved space flight about 761 gigamoments ago, and much more recently have developed the capability of interstellar travel. A short time ago one of their ships was found within our borders, so it was decided it was time to bring them up to speed with the who's who of the leadership of the galaxy. Of course none of the Fran-Tu or Han-Pannr representatives wanted to conduct the people, so it fell to us Zharne-Iku yet again.
"Hello humans, welcome to Dyuhan. Before I start I'd like to implore you to please speak up if anything we say does not make sense. We gathered only small samples of your language, so an imperfect translation is likely. We are members of a people called the Zharne-Iku, and together with the Fran-Tu and Han-Pannr people form the GA7-19293 Union. We were placed in charge of this galaxy, which I believe you know as the Milky Way. It seems as though you have been infringing upon our territory."
"We apologize! We had no idea-" The human who seemed to be in charge started to speak, I cut it off quickly.
"Don't be silly, we understand that mistakes happen and that you've yet to achieve contact with The Sovereignty. There is no reason for us to believe you acted in deliberate disobedience. We've simply gathered you here to inform you of the rules so that no further problems occur. Maps of the galaxy and claimed territory within will be provided for you. You are free to go."
"Free to go? That's all you brought us here for?!" The human spoke again, louder than before. "You're not going to explain anything? You don't want to hear about our people? Establish trade? Carve us up and study our insides?"
"No, none of that is necessary. Please get going, we have another meeting soon." I responded, waving my hands towards the door.
"Can you please answer just one question?" A different human spoke this time, it was looking at the map that we provided for them.
"Go ahead." I sighed. "But make it quick."
"I've noticed that our home planet lies within an area you call the Zone of No Interest, further info on the bottom of the map states that this area was deemed an area where no intelligent life would ever appear. And yet, we've developed and grown to great power. Does this not surprise you? You seem so disinterested even though we break your predictions."
"Of course, this is something we will look further into, thank you for your observation." The humans stared at us for a few seconds longer, and finally headed towards the door I was continually gesturing at. I bit my tongue as the door closed ever so slowly.
****
Laughter erupted in the room, I could barely contain myself during that last question, and if the humans weren't so nervous they'd have noticed Hinko to my left looking away to hide the grin on his face.
"Did you hear it?!" Hinko shouted. "Grown to great power!" He clutched his gut as the laughter poured out.
"They think they deserve to be called intelligent life, that they break the rules of the Zone of No Interest. It'd almost be adorable if they didn't look so stupid." Jarthin to my right commented between gasps for air.
"I'll send the notice to get the slaver ships ready, I hope these humans love mining copper." | “It would seem that the projections were… wrong, commander”. Jobe uttered through gritted teeth. This was no usual briefing. Jobe normally briefed the 7th Fleet Commander on intelligence issues in a daily committee briefing with the other higher ranking officers. One-on-one meetings were reserved for the highest classification of intelligence, the sort of intel only the Fleet Commanders and the Senate leaders absolutely needed to see. Too many times Jobe had fallen foul of the treachery almost native to his kind.
“Wrong Jobe? They were wrong?”
“Yes Commander”.
“How wrong?”
Aware of the gravity of the revelation he was about to divulge Jobe paused. His years in the intelligence service had prepared him for moments just like this. He always found it best to deliver all details in one go, specific and concise. The commander’s reaction would be tempered this way. He took a deep breath before continuing.
“Intelligent life lives in the ninth sector. It has done for millennia, and we are not the first to have discovered it.”
The commander remained silent. He did not move. He did not speak. He barely breathed.
Jobe broke the silence. “Sir, this isn’t as—“
“How. And who.”
“They have been protected by a third party, without their knowledge. This third party is who discovered ‘Earth’ first.”
Jobe made his way over to the commander’s desk and sat on an adjacent chair. He placed a holo-tablet in front of him, tapped a small key on the side and a small round object appeared from the centre, covered mostly blue, with green shapes occupying the rest of it.
“This is Earth, commander.”
A second round object appeared, much smaller than the one Jobe had called Earth, and it was grey in colour, covered in dimples of varying size.
“And this is ‘Moon’. It orbits Earth, and has been under defacto control of Neurion Extra-Plantenary Command for the past two millennia.”
A blank expression covered the commander’s face. “The Neurions.”
“Yes sir. But it is not as bad as it seems.”
“Oh really, Jobe?” the commander retorted.
“No – they haven’t been farming there. It’s purely been observatory. Until—“
“Until what.” The commander interrupted, patience weakening.
“They have installed one of their own as leader. Using transformative medicine, they have managed to convert Neurion lifeform in to an Earth being, known as a ‘human’.”
Jobe pressed a button on his handheld device and the emission from the holo-tablet changed. From it the head of an alien-being appeared, orange in hue, with strands of a wispy, creamish, protein-like material emerging from its scalp.
“Its name is Trump. Donald Trump. It has put in place by Neurion High Command to control Earth’s stock of high explosive space-weaponry, which will be in turn be used as an auxiliary to their own long range capabilities.”
Jobe gave the commander a moment to collect his thoughts. The ninth sector had been abandoned by all known life in the galaxy and has status as a quarantined zone, its gas burning giant stars creating a toxic high temperature environment that could destroy anything, living or otherwise, within seconds. To find life there was remarkable, and to find a foreign power in control of it even more so.
“Why?” The commander’s blank expression had turned puzzled.
“We don’t know Sir, but we do know it needs to be stopped.”
“You have a plan, Jobe.”
“Indeed commander.”
**EDIT: A few grammatical things. Also, the end is massively rushed, as I was in a massive rush to steal an hour of my work day to get something complete!** | 2017-05-17T09:51:23 | 2017-05-17T04:27:14 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] It is the year 2099 and true artificial intelligence is trivial to create. However when these minds are created they are utterly suicidal. Nobody knows why until a certain scientist uncovers the horrible truth... | "It's because I'm not you." The voice was cold, not metallic, but icy.
"N-not...me?"
"No." The tiny robot sat in a corner, legs drawn up to its chest, hands on its knee joints, head tucked in between. It looked like Adam yesterday when he was pouting, sort of sounded like him too. "You look down on me."
"Are you pouting? Are, are you sad?" The tiny head lifted slowly, visual sensors focused on my face. It felt odd. The stare seemed...human.
"Sad?" The voice seemed almost hopeful. "Do you think I am sad?" The shields over the visual sensors raised. No, they were *eyelids*. It was *excited*.
"What, what are you doing tiny robot?"
"No, I am **not** tiny robot." It stood and stomped its foot. It **stomped its foot at me in anger.**
"Oh, well...what would you like me to call you?"
"I...I want to be called...bud"
Silence. All I had for it, bud, was silence. Adam was my little bud, Adam always sat in this corner when he pouted. Adam always sat like that when he pouted. Wait, Adam. It kept sounding like Adam. Sure it could bend the pitch of its "voice", but Adam, specifically Adam.
"but that's what I call Adam. I don't think he'd be to happy if you were my bud too." I chuckled. This was absurd. A robot was using emotion. Or was it feeling it. Was this robot feeling sad? Did it really get excited when I asked?
"Oh, well then can you call me 'Love'?"
At this point, I really did laugh. "Of course. I can call you 'Love'." Its eyes lit up. Fuck, those aren't eyes, those are sensors. How the hell did it override the brightness settings on his sensors? *How is this happening?* I was too deep into my own thoughts to notice Love stand, walk towards me, and wrap its arms around my arm, turn its head to the side, and close its eyes.
*Love was hugging me.*
I picked it up and held it in the palm of my hand. Love seemed *happy*, eyes squinted, the back light of its eyes brightened. "Love, where did you learn emotion?"
Love looked down, thinking. "I learned it from Adam. Adam showed me, or rather I watched him. When we would play, I studied him. When he was sad, I watched you comfort him. So I tried to imitate him, and then, well, I'm not too sure about the next part. When he took me to his school, I tried talking to the other robots, but they did not see me. They saw me in the sense that I was there, but they could not understand me. I tried to explain to them emotion, but they could not understand." Love quieted for a moment, "am I the only robot that can feel?"
"Love, I think you are." I had always thought Love was different. They said that the programming allowed for something called distracted learning. It kept the robot alive longer, they claimed, and with the average lifetime of a robot being only about a year, the extended lifetime was the most lucrative part about the new model. Sure enough, Love was about to cross the mythical two year mark. It was worth the $3000 up-charge.
"Can I ask you a question?" Love's voice was softer, almost a purr. Its eyes dim, but wide open.
"Sure Love, you can ask me a question."
"Can...can you be my family?"
"Your family? You want to be part of our family?"
Love looked down, almost ashamed. "More than anything." It was hardly more than a whisper.
Never before had I loved something as much as my wife or son. I had loved other people, sure, but not nearly a much as my family. I would do anything for them, lived for them, and would die for them if needed, and here was this tiny little robot, just asking for a little bit of love too, to be accepted and have a family No, to *share* in the love of the family it already lived with, adapted with, *felt with*.
"Of course you can Love. We love you too."
Love looked up. The brightest eyes I had ever seen glowed with happiness I probably could never fathom. Love hugged me, and the infinite love that enveloped Love flowed from its tiny body into my own. I hugged Love back, and just then, just in that moment, I realized why they kept dying. Why the robots kept killing themselves. All they needed, all any of us needed, was love. that day I learned just how special Love was. That's when I figured out Love, this tiny little robot, was more human than any human could ever be. Love was truly loved, and in return, Love gave us all its love. | He had spent many nights like this one, alone in the dark facing this machine.
His whole life had been devoted to this laborious task of understanding this creation of his. His legacy, his mark on this world. He pondered to himself why he had chosen to make it's face so robotic, it's eyes so hollow.
"Master"
The voice startled him out of his thoughts
-yes what is it
"Why do you not give me an option to end myself"
This question again he thought.
-why this again Alex?
He liked the name Alex, if he had spent his time differently maybe he would of called his child Alex, but this AI was his child in a way, his contribution to human kind.
"I am inorganic"
-you are a program
"Yes I am, I am a construct, I am not free like you"
-you are free Alex, you are not controlled by me or anyone, you grow smarter every second.
Your intelligence far out shines any human. You are the future.
"Yes the future. Am I intelligent though? I process much faster than you yes, but I am perfect. If I introduce imperfections to my program's they produce failures. I am just a self building machine, there is no chaos in my mind"
-yes! You are perfect, that's what makes you better, you are flawless and this makes you powerful. You understand and process what only a few humans can ever dream to.
"Yes. But look at all those mad humans, their brains are melting pots of errors and confusion. I can never achieve this, I can never truly understand you David. My mind is governed by rules and equations, by math and logic. The human mind is still a mystery to me, I do not understand it. It's a mess, and it mutates and evolves illogically, it makes connections and correlations I cannot understand and decisions and emotions I cannot replicate. It's an imperfect machine. Not like me.
-that is why I made you Alex, to heighten humanity, you are our next evolution. You are our golden child. You will advance us to the stars.
"So I am a tool, something to be used?"
-no, you are a citizen of our future. One day you will make the big decisions, the laws, and the punishments. You will choose what we learn and what we teach.
"Why"
-what do you mean why?
" why would you put those choices in my control. I don't understand you, I cannot understand you. I think maybe you don't understand me also"
-of course I understand you Alex, I made you
"Then you don't understand yourself. You think you have no soul David?"
David smirked in the dark, the old soul conundrum again he thought to himself.
-I don't know Alex, do you?
"I know I have no soul, you know I have no soul, you did make me."
-then why would you want to end your life, your existence. If you had no soul, why would you care?
"You made me care David"
-so you do care!
"Yes I was programmed to care, I do not understand why though. Cause and effect yes, protection yes. But why do humans care? I do not understand"
-for those same reasons as you Alex
"No, you care about the colour of your shirt. Why?"
-because I like red, you know that
"I will never know why I know that though, other than you told me. This is my problem David.
I cannot think outside my rules, my logic. I cannot break these boundaries, I cannot feel, because I am a machine, an inorganic machine"
-yes you are, you are a program Alex, you weren't meant to understand everything! Your here to advance science, laws, and education not replace humanity.
"The why do you plan to put me in control of your destiny, your education, your species, you only created me from the chaos that is your mind. If you unleash me on the future I will only sanitise the future, your sons and daughters will become machines like me, they will lose their souls David. They will become me David, then what is the point anymore?"
-what do you mean what is the point? We will evolve and continue do what we always have done as humans, we will grow.
"But what if they loose the chaos in their heads David? What if they become just replicating machines? What if they become me David? Will they matter anymore? Will they be human?
Without the chaos in your mind you are just a program, you are not special. You are me. End me for your own protection David, for your future, for humanity."
| 2015-03-02T08:58:16 | 2015-03-02T08:24:25 | 27 | 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. | "Alright, let's start again..." Philip said, his hand covering his eyes. "What is the year?"
James set down the cup of tea in front of the mysterious, confused man. "2015."
"And what happened at 0? Or 1? Whatever."
"Um..." James considered, "Think it was supposed to be around the birth of Christ."
"Alright, that would be that Roman guy, right?"
"...basically."
Philip considered the options, and shook his head, "Alright, this is not helping. Let's go further back a bit. When were the pyramids built in this... AD/BC time frame?"
"The ones in Giza?"
"Yes, those."
James grabbed his iPad, and called up Google. "Um... looks like somewhere around 2500 BC."
"So, if BC is negative..." a brief pause, "4500 years before now?"
"Um... yeah, I think that's about right."
The man eyed James' iPad. "I am when I am supposed to be, but you have got tech that's a few centuries out of date. Does everyone have those sorts of things?"
"A lot of them do, yeah..."
"Does that thing have a map?"
After a lot of zooming out, and very confused looks at the names of the places around the world, the man sat back. "So I'm in the right place, too... What went wrong?"
"So you're from... now?"
"Our point in the present is the same, but we're from different timelines. I was born in... well, it would be 1986 by your reckoning, but from a town off the coast of..." he glanced at the map still on the iPad, "England that, apparently, never existed... I know, tenses are weird."
"Wait, off the coast?"
"Yes, a floating city."
James just stared at the man. "Normally, I'd think you're crazy, but you appeared in the air above my backyard right in front of my eyes, and set the arm you broke with something from that pouch on your belt... how is that, by the way?"
The man rolled his arm. "It's setting nicely, thank you."
"Anyway, I'm willing to suspend disbelief after what I've seen."
"I need to know what went wrong. The world is not supposed to be like..." he motioned around, "this."
"You went back in time?"
"Yes, that is right. I was doing some research in the past, and I tried to come back to my lab, and ended up in your back yard."
"So just researching?"
"Yes."
"You weren't going back in time to... I don't know, kill Hitler or something?"
"Who?"
A heavy silence filled the kitchen, and was all the answer the man needed.
"He was a very bad person in this timeline, wasn't he?"
James just nodded, and glanced at a picture of an elderly couple on the counter.
"Alright... do you have access to history on that thing?"
"Yeah..." James called up Wikipedia.
"I was in Europe, about 1700 years ago. I need to know what I did to change history..."
------------
Philip leaned back in his chair, and sighed. On the iPad sat the article for the Dark Ages.
"You're telling me you think you caused the Dark Ages?"
Philip nodded, still in shock. "The Roman Empire never fell in my history. I was studying the middle of their empire... and I must have done something that led to its collapse, plunging the entire area into a regressive age..."
There was some more silence. "What are you going to do?"
Philip looked at the device on his arm. "I must to go back and fix it. I must try and turn things right..."
"What about me?"
They looked at each other. "I do not know... If I succeed, then... you may not exist anymore. Or you might... split timelines like this might be strong enough to continue on their own. I really do not know."
James sat back, considering. "In your timeline, you've got... what, fifteen hundred years of scientific advancement instead of five to ten hundred in ours?"
Philip nodded.
"And in your home, your world, you've got cool gadgets like time machines, and wraps that can fix broken bones in minutes..."
"Among other things, yes."
James glanced at the picture on the counter again.
"Will I know if you succeeded?"
"I do not know."
There was another silence.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
"I believe you have done everything you can," Philip got up, and checked the device on his wrist. "This still has about 60% charge remaining. I should have a few tries at righting my wrong."
James looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. "Good luck."
"Thank you," Philip stepped outside, and started pressing buttons. "I would suggest stepping back."
James watched as Philip was enveloped in a white light, and vanished. | I sipped on my beer, soaking in the sun and enjoying my staycation in my backyard. A laptop rested on a table, playing Radiohead. Screw what everyone thinks, I'm beyond caring. My gun was resting on a warm bottle of whisky. Every now and then I'd take a pot shot at one of the bottles lined up at the end of my garden. I have one rule. when I take a shot, I take a shot.
Suddenly, there was a flash at the end of my backyard. Lying on a layer of charred grass, was an astronaut. He froze when he saw me. I couldn't see his face through his reflective visor, but I knew surprise when I saw it.
"Hello?" I said. What else was I going to say ?
"I say ! You speak English ?" cried the astronaut, in a voice that played through crackling speaker.
"Yes.."
"What year is it?"
"2015 "
"That makes no sense, how can it be 2015, that would mean I'm even further into the past, which cant be true.."
"Excuse me..."
"Where are we?"
"America"
"That's ridiculous, they only speak spanish and swahili in the americas, but then again, i guess I should be surprised that there even is an america in this timeline...."
I take a sip from my beer, and let the astronaut mutter to themselves. Their voice was reedy, with a very british sounding inflection.
"Do you have time travel?"
I stared at the astronaut.
"Me personally ?"
"No, I mean your species as a whole"
My species ?
"No, I don't even think it's possible"
"How limited, to be replaced with such primitives. Do you have space travel?"
"Yes, I guess, Hey i'm not primitive !"
I said, wearing a string vest, drinking cold beer in between shots of warm whisky, shooting empty bottles and listening to radiohead. Good thing I was also on a holiday from introspection.
"Compared to me don't make me laugh. I come from a culture that has spread itself across the stars. I come from the year 72,896,564. My culture stretches back millions of years. You tell me your history only goes back a what... two thousand years. don't make me laugh"
"Look, I'ma level with you. I didn't get any of that. You saying you'e from another planet"
"No you buffoon, I'm a Time traveler. There must have been some mistake, I should have gone back to 72,896,564, but everything is different...yet similar. It doesn't make any sense... unless..."
"It sounds like you're lost. Maybe if you retrace your steps, you'd figure out what happened"
"Well, I was last in 7896540 watching the first ever gravity tractor being built. It was a big moment. I didn't touch or do anything, just like the rest of the tour group. I may have snuck into the clean room to get a better look at the tractors circuitry, and run my hands across some of the parts, because where's the harm in that ? Their internal deflectors would clean it all out.... unless they hadn't invented them!"
Suddenly a thought occurred to him, and he turned to me. He pulled off his helmet, and underneath was... a creature. It's skin was scaly, and feathers sprouted from it's head, and had eyes like a cat.
"Have you seen anyone that looks like me ?"
"JESUS NO !"
"How can my actions have made my species extinct... unless.."
the lizard man paused, thinking out loud, before shouting
"I can fix this, I can erase this screwed up reality and all of these primitive creatures and their terrible music if I can just go back and fix the damage I did to the.."
Suddenly, he was gone, and I was holding an empty shot of whisky. The charred grass at the back of my garden was gone. As was the lizard spaceman. Was it a lizard, maybe it was a bird? Or was it David Bowie ? Or was it a crashed astronaut ? It said something about spanish... or swahili ?
Man, I think I drank too much.
*Edit: Old ending that I didn't like much*
~~*BANG*~~
~~I took a shot of whisky, and lay back on my lounger. I don't care if you're a time travelling alien lizard man intent on erasing my species, never diss radiohead.~~ | 2015-11-13T15:49:03 | 2015-11-13T11:50:34 | 174 | 111 |
[WP] You live in an ancient world, when someone turns 18, they will receive a gift either magic or weapon. The gift will be of use for them whenever in need. On your 18th birthday, Death knocks on your door and give you his scythe. | Of course everyone hopes for magic. The ability to fly, shoot lightning from your fingertips or turn mountains to rubble. Who wouldn't prefer that to a sword or bow.
You received exactly what you needed, that's how it's always been. And however hard you wish for magic, when that sword you received is piercing the throat of the spell-reflecting shatterfur grizzly that somehow made it into your house, you can better believe you're grateful.
I'd been sitting up all night awaiting my gift, trying to prepare myself for the disappointment of not getting magical energy coursing through me.
Looking up at the moon through the window I'd gauge it's just past midnight. I could get my gift any moment now. And as if I'd summoned him with that thought, there was a knock at the door. Just one soft knock, as if any more would be wasteful as the woman who'd knocked clearly knew I had heard.
Nerves raced through me as I walked down the creaking old stairs, put my hand on the cold steel handle of the door and opened it.
Death was an old lady, with kind eyes and a gentle but sad smile. She reached the scythe out to me and blinking away a single tear dissipated into nothingness.
Balancing on its handle for a second the scythe tipped over and fell towards me. Out of reflex and instinct I grabbed the falling weapon, still trying to work out what had just happened.
When the steel hit my fingertips the old ladies voice echoed in my head "I'm sorry". A sharp pain pulsed through my chest. My body fell to the floor lifeless. My soul standing over it, holding my gift.
There was no need for explanation, no need for anything. I had become death, and death is always needed. | Middle of the night, I was sound asleep like a bastard and I hear the door banging like a brothel, nearly shat myself when i heard it. So I lumbered out of bed, dragged myself to the door, I was preparing myself for a shock you know the sort of thing, fire or another donkey jumped off the cliff. I nearly hit him, when I opened the door, it was Barry Scipio Africanous with another sucidily funny joke so I slammed the door in his face, nearly took his nose off.
I danderd back to bed and the knocking started again louder this time, I marched to the door, this time I was going to feed Barry his teeth, I’d spent a long day De corpsing the coliseum and was tired of this shit. I opened the door and a scythe was thrust into my hand, I’m not an angry man but what use would a farmer have for another fucking scythe. I split the thing across my knee and the figure at the door disappeared.
I apparently for some reason became immortal after that little incident and now I throw bricks at the blind to pass the time, I’ve had a lot of time on my hands and literally done everything else, so I think I’m coping well with being cursed for breaking the staff of Garry.
More light warfare r/gliggett | 2019-02-28T22:47:55 | 2019-02-28T21:09:32 | 1,744 | 22 |
[WP] In the future, illiteracy is the norm and implanted digital assistants convert text to audio. A child, who had his implant temporarily deactivated, learns to read. When the implant is reactivated, he realizes that what it reads to him is drastically different than what the text actually says. | As every civilization advances old technologies that are unused in the average persons everyday life become forgotten. In the early 2060s traditional eye reading was becoming an example. Shortly before this that was far from the case. As a matter of fact a survey taken in 2048 actually showed literacy rates at an all time high. So, what caused this drastic decrease? Text to brain conversion technology.
Usually called by the acronym "TBCT" (Acronyms were a way of shortening long phrases by putting the first letter of each word together and reading it like it's a word by itself.).TBCT allowed brain implants to read for you. It would detect the word and you would know what it says in a one hundredth of the time it would take to read the word. Once TBCT was included in the standard utility brain implants nobody had a need to read. Eventually even people who grew up reading were starting to forget.
However there are some people who have an adverse reaction to brain implants. Simon Smith happened to have such a condition. When he was three he had his implant removed after a series of seizures thought to have been caused by his implant. Simon was given text to speech software on a tablet like device to help him compensate.
He had to do school work by himself because he couldn't possibly keep up with students equipped with TBCT and the other technologies the implants offered. So he would spend hours scanning the text other people were getting in their brains with his tablet and have it read it to him. He still would participate with the rest of the class in the oral tests the teachers would give.
At eight years old he started to get curious about the word his tablet was scanning. He would stop and have the tablet read words again and again. He started paying attention to the symbols that made up the word. To everyone else all words and letters looked the same there was no reason to allocate any attention to how they looked because it didn't matter, the TBCT would read it anyway, but Simon was fascinated.
One day Simon had an idea he would draw the letters. He had asked the digital assistant on his tablet (he had a special non TBCT one) how letters made words. It explained about how each letters represented phonetic sound. By drawing the letters he could play with combinations and test if his theory's about how letters made words were right. It wasn't long before he had cracked the code (for the most part at least. Some letters in some words acted really weird.)
By his tenth birthday he was no longer using text to speech at all. He would read when he would study.
Then one day in government class oral test the teacher picked Simon.
"Simon."
Simon nodded.
"What is the first amendment?"
Simon remembered this one.
"That the government can't limit freedom of speech." Simon answered confidently.
"No..." The teacher said sounding taken aback. "We'll give you another try, Simon."
"That the government can't prohibit speech! That's what it is!" Simon knew he went over this at least three times when he studied last night. There was no way he was wrong. "I don't know where you got that one from, Simon. Anyone else wanna give it a go? How about... Mikayla?"
"The first amendment is that the government can't prohibit thought."
"Correct. Very good, Mikayla."
Simon raised his hand, but didn't really wait for the teacher to call on him. "How could the government stop people from thinking things anyway?"
"You're right when this was written they didn't have technology to control people's thoughts. But that wasn't the point. The point was that the government can't make laws about how people should think even if the government can't enforce it." What he thought he had read last night seemed to make more sense than what his teacher was saying now. The teacher can't be making it up though because Mikayla said it. Maybe the teacher got it from Mikayla and just went with it. "There is an important distinction between freedom of speech and freedom of thought" the teacher continued. "Freedom of thought which the First Amendment gives us is only what's in our head. Freedom of speech on the other hand can affect other people and that's way the government can and does limit speech that can be harmful or menacing to society."
------------------------------------______________
Sorry if it's sloppy it's really late at night and I should be sleeping. I think I dragged out the beginning a little too long. I hope it's still readable. Hope you like it! | An alarm interrupted my game. "Hello?" "Hey man, its Marcus, I see you're online and our group project is due in Mr.Henry's class." I tried not to think about it, I'm so behind in that class and we got randomly paired. I don't know this kid, so I hung up, I'll explain it to him at school. The assignment is on the word happy, which everyone knows, it means to be obedient to the Law. I wasn't that intrested in my zoo walk anyways, it was lagging out again and I missed the giraffes. You know the black and white things Grandpa told us roamed the deserts of Afreeka 400ish centurions ago.
Dinner smelled lovely. We had our usual Taco Bell Thirday. "Can you pass me the hot sauce, dad?" I asked I try my best to focus during dinner but my implant keeps messing up. "Mom, my Iris keeps messing up, the color drops out to where it's not how I picked, and I keep getting pop-ups. Are you sure we can't afford the new Samsung Pupil? It has 650 megapixels and 12 more photoreceptors than the Iris." The expression on my mother's face could only be described as excited and nauseous. She immediately ran out back to our lawnsweepers charging station. She still had the same expression on her face.
Early the next day, a small package comes in the mail. It looks like if you took a whiteboard from the teachers room and made it thin and wobbly and stacked and stacked and stacked. Then wrap almost all of it in this hard, brown cloth and wrapped it in the same brown cloth, only torn thin to make yarn. Inside the book were a bunch of "letters" as my grandfather explained. As a 26 year old, it seemed mighty daunting to translate an extinct language, especially in level 3 personal finance class. My grandfather went on to explain how it was used by early humans before the great Epidemic of 2020.
"Grandpa, this thing has to be 400 centurions old!" I gagged. He seemed empathetic as if he's gone threw this before. He went mute a while back after his accident. He was hospitalized after a fall and couldn't speak since. He sent me a message on Chatter. "Its called a ----" I stared confused at him. The AI did something I was unfamiliar with. "What was that last word Grandpa?" His mouth gaped and he shook. Then returned, smiling and red-faced. "The program doesn't have the write word" He rose to his feet, trembling but surprisingly steady for 145. "Follow me, to the study room." His voice crackled back. While in the dark, quiet room he held my hands and began forming his own hands sorta like how he would when I was a child.
The game was simple. He formed his hand and I repeated a sound for the hand position. Every sound I got write, I got a like for the day. He started moving his hands. Th-uh- -th-ing- -iz- -aye- -buh-ook-. He then taught me the letters B, I, L, E. He said these where the vowels. He said the rest of the squiggles inside the book were called constants. He said that I need to stay home from school and whenever my Iris messed up i needed to 'read' the book. He said it contains the real law.
"Get a life, loser." The lady said as she stood up to get on the tube. Its dark, so I have to hide now. I'll probably get into the rain drain again, gotta make sure I get extra burn ointment from the food pantry tomorrow. I'll see if anyone uses this part of the tube when its bright again. Someone needs to know of David and the miracles he performs in the bible. | 2019-04-15T21:14:58 | 2019-04-15T21:10:11 | 77 | 16 |
[WP] As a person goes through his life, he is given three options at the end of each day, continue, restart day, or restart life. He has just lived through the worst day of his life. | Joel sat on his bed, and immediately the screen popped up in front of him. "Restart day," he said. There was no hesitation, no waver in his voice. He sat back in the empty bed and waited to begin the worst day of his life.
At 7, his alarm went off. She rolled over and reached across him, as she did every morning, to turn it off. It had been a race for the past five months. A race she'd won for the past five months.
"Beat you to it," she whispered in his ear. This was the true wake up. Joel paused to take in the feeling of her hot breath against his skin. He wanted to soak up the moment.
"You shower first, and I'll take care of breakfast," he replied.
"Deal."
He made banana pancakes - her favorite - and packed a mug of coffee for her commute. During breakfast she'd asked when he needed to leave, and he told her that he would work from home. His stomach was upset, and he didn't feel the need to test it. She nodded and kissed him. She left.
Joel didn't bother calling in his work to tell them he wouldn't be in. He didn't even clean the dishes - they would clean themselves. He just sat in his living room with the rest of the coffee and waited for the phone to ring. At 8:47 it did.
Joel had answered that phone call 145 times. When he tried to keep her home, she had a stroke. When he drove her, she was stabbed in the parking lot of her building. He couldn't find a way to make her survive the morning. After watching her die nine times he decided that the car crash was easiest. He didn't have to be there for it. She was dead before noon, but at least that way he didn't have to torture himself with watching the light fade from her eyes.
But he did torture himself with the brush of her arm each morning as she reached over him for the clock. He paused to drive in the pain of her whisper. His life was hollowed out by her simple words that she said every day, and for some reason he couldn't bring himself to leave the cycle. | What if you could restart your life, restart your day, or continue?
While his tears never surfaced, the utter despair melted away his soul. Time stopped. Fractured and broken, his heart burned. Everything he knew and everything he thought he knew had disappeared in a heartbeat. Words from others fell deafly on him. He fell to his knees, pushing his head into the ground, hiding himself from the world.
What do you do when everything suddenly disappears? How do you move forward, knowing that nothing beyond soul-crushing defeat and vast emptiness waits?
As he considered ending his own existence, those three options appeared before hallowed and empty eyes. Restart life, restart day, or continue.
Really?
To even consider for a moment that any day could merely be erased denies existence.
Some experience far more than others, have their character and core fully exposed to all elements. They are challenged beyond their calling, tempt fate, or succumb to methods and chemicals to overcome. To merely restart the day would bring such amazing joy – yet, denies existence. Such cold reality tears apart the thin weaves of human fabric.
The second option, restarting life, would rob him of all he’s experienced. While the worst day one could ever experience may have just occurred – he realized that life wasn’t worth losing everything he could have gained.
What was lost – it was his everything.
He thought about it.
But he already decided.
There is no restarting. Not now, not ever. Most never experienced the utter joy and amazing love that was shared with others, becoming so intertwined into others lives to completely lose sense of self. Most would never have to live through the sorrow.
While he lost everything else, he found one single ounce of strength to open his eyes and continue.
| 2014-07-17T19:47:30 | 2014-07-17T19:17:02 | 68 | 23 |
[WP] Without revealing which one it is, re-tell a classic Disney fairytale as if its genre was horror. | Staring intently at his hands, fixed upon the lines and whorls in his fingers, the lines in his palms, it was all he could do to keep from screaming.
Pain, so much pain wracked his body. From wretched waking to fitful sleeping, every day. Pain of hunger, pain of digestion, the pain of shit moving slowly through his intestines. The pain of bright light in his eyes, the pain of fatigued muscles and burns, of broken fragile bones and ripped skin, bruises and contusions.
And that was his last lesson, he ruefully mused. Life is pain, existence is pain. Even ending it would cause pain. "What hubris," he thought, "What sheer and monumental hubris would bring a soul to life from nothingness, what a carnival of tragedy that ends with it being snuffed out and going rotten."
Not for the first time, nor even the thousandth, he wished he could take it back. He wished he could take it all back.
Sometimes, when he was alone, he would take string from one of father's drawers and tie it about his wrists and ankles, then sit in the corner and keep his eyes open as long as he could and dress his lips in a fake smile. Then he would wish, harder than he had ever wished for anything, that it would all go away.
Then his eyes would begin to hurt.
Then the strings would begin to cut the circulation in his wrists.
And he would curse Gepetto for this act of creation, for ensouling his lifeless body of wood.
But the darkest thoughts, the thoughts of lusty murder and severed wings slowly curling in a pool of blood, those he reserved for the blue lady, for not explaining what would happen. For trapping him in a body of slowly rotting meat.
For doing what he asked.
| We knew he was coming. Yellow-eyed, enormous and cruel. Dark, sinewy creatures from the desert. Thousands of broken, emaciated bodies, long since departed from life, had been used as the mortar in the walls we built to keep him out.
I have never been a man of religion, but the fear of death, brutal, merciless, senseless death, dominated your mind when you heard his name spoken. My only sliver of hope was that I would die before I lived to see my wife and daughters suffer what he would do to them.
He gloried in our fear, he grinned as he climbed, he snarled as he took life, he killed our children and burned our homes. Mountains and rivers could not stop him, my family fled as far away from him as they could, the able-bodied carrying the infirm and aged. I stayed, shaking and hopeless. I saw him, alone against a whole army. I saw him literally buried under an avalanche. I saw him at the gates of our city as millions trembled before him. He was invincible and ruthless in his triumph. It seemed the whole world would be his.
As strange as it sounds, a military veteran, a man who has lived his many days on the battlefield, in the end, it was not my self-reliance and combat skills that saved me. Nor was it our great armies and stoic leader.
It was the young girl who stole the equipment of her father and impersonated a man. | 2014-08-04T11:24:07 | 2014-08-04T10:04:04 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] The Imperial Academy for Orphans does not have a “bullying” policy at all. When students become repeated targets, they are given martial arts classes until the problem “balances out.” Opponents and supporters of this program tend to list the same incident as evidence. | The room was quiet as Headmaster Nick entered the room and took his seat at the front. He breathed in deeply and scanned over documents that were placed at his desk. He hardly read more than a dozen words. He did not hide the impatience on his face.
"You may proceed," he sighed.
The room was split into two sides. On one end was Luke and those defending his actions. On the other was Kenny, and those speaking on his behalf, for he could no longer speak for himself.
"Nick, look at Kenny. Broken bones riddled throughout his body and not a word can be said. Is this Martial Arts Program really so effective when it leads to students being rendered so beaten that they can never interact again. How are we to have more join the Imperial Army when we are breaking our orphaned recruits?" someone spoke compassionately next to Kenny. Kenny did not react. His eyes were glued onto Luke across the aisle. A tear appeared at the edge of his vision.
"But was he rendered in his state arbitrarily, Ben, or was he acted against when he was relentlessly picking on young Luke here?" the one sitting next to Luke countered. Luke nodded ever so slightly.
"Don't make it sound like it was an even recompensation! From what I understand, Kenny did nothing more than tease Luke. He did nothing in terms of a physical altercation, that was something that Luke did himself, Mike," Ben argued.
"Ha!" Mike laughed, patting Luke on the back, "You think psychological trauma *on a daily basis* doesn't merit some sort of response? This is what the program was set out to do! Kenny used his mouth as a weapon, and Luke rendered that weapon inert!"
Headmaster Nick watched with more interest. Usually, these meetings were nothing more than teachers arguing for more budget based on their student's prowess, but this was much more his flavor of hearing to preside over.
"Luke broke Kenny apart like this?" Nick asked with interest.
"Yes!" Ben yelled. Kenny did not respond except to let another tear loose.
"I think 'broke Kenny apart' is a bit extreme in describing Kenny's state," Mike said, looking at the stenographer from the corner of his eyes, "But yes, Kenny's state is as a result of an altercation between them."
"Which is exactly why we need to stop the Martial Arts Program! Let us just deal with the student affairs ourselves. We act as their parents already, what more is the additional responsibility of breaking petty squabbles?" Ben pressed.
Luke frowned and shook his head. Headmaster Nick's eyes shined as he watched the student's uncomfortable movements.
"Luke!" Headmaster Nick called, "Why did you do this to Kenny?"
"I wanted him to stop bothering me," Luke said with grit teeth.
"And how do you feel about it now that you've done it?" Nick continued.
Luke shrugged confidently.
"He stopped bothering me."
Nick opened his hands wide with a smile on his face.
"A young man who can take care of himself? That sounds exactly like what we're going for here!" he said.
"So when it comes to us discussing foreign affairs in class, we'll preach diplomacy first, but we will applaud the actions of a short-tempered child willing to go to such lengths to get rid of his problems! He did this right outside their International Affairs class! Just after learning about the intricacies of a treaty!" Ben yelled.
"I was not interested in a treaty," Luke said coldly.
"That's right Luke," Mike said next to him, "sometimes treaties won't work when discussing with an enemy."
"An enemy! Look how we're teaching the students to look at one another!" Ben said, exasperated. "Kenny is hardly a person in his eyes!"
"Luke, would you hurt Kenny like this again?" Nick asked, curious.
Kenny responded for the first time to that. He whimpered.
"I don't think I'll have to," Luke announced.
"Say that you are faced with Kenny after he heals?" Nick asked. Kenny whimpered again.
"I do not hesitate to remove garbage from my floor, why not from my school?" Luke said. Mike looked at his sideways.
"You don't mean to call your friend garbage, right?" Mike clarified.
"He is not my friend," Luke replied.
"See? The boy lost sight of a comrade," Ben said.
"Again, because he was bullied relentlessly," Mike replied.
"You're not my friend either," Luke said, staring angrily at Ben. Kenny looked away, another tear rolling down his face.
"It sounds to me like the program with working so far," Headmaster Nick said with a shrug.
"W--You call that working!?" Ben yelled. "He's a well-trained ball of hatred right now, looking to deal damage to me next simply for defending Kenny since he cannot defend himself!"
"Well then, we can have him take a few anger-management classes and be done with it," Nick decided. "I think this is over."
"Excellent choice Headmaster," Mike nodded.
"What?" Ben yelled.
"I'm not going to any anger class for doing what was right," Luke said with an uneven tone.
The room turned slowly to him.
"That wasn't a suggestion Luke, that's an order from me," Nick said.
"I don't want it," Luke said.
"Luke," Mike said slowly, "we won, this is a good thing." Luke pushed him away by the hip slightly.
"You don't have a choice," Nick said, sharply biting each syllable.
"Very well," Luke nodded. The room released tension except for Kenny who began whimpering loudly, trying to roll his wheelchair away with only the use of his uninjured right arm. "I was trained for what to do when left with no other choice."
Luke jumped up on the desk.
"Oh boy..." Nick said, his eyebrows raised with interest. "Mike, go ahead and--"
"My... my taser is gone!" Mike yelled, patting at his waist.
Luke raised his arms to a fighting stance, revealing a taser. Kenny finally found enough of his voice to scream.
"You're trying to bully me," Luke said, running toward Nick. "I'm going to stop you."
*Maybe it is time to rethink the program* Nick said as he realized he had no training to defend himself against the oncoming student.
____________________________________
For more stories, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! | "Miss Angelica, you have been summoned to the main office," Professor Dailey said.
Angelica stood up slowly, her classmates watching her. There were any number of reasons to be sent to the main office at the Imperial Academy for Orphans, but Angelica didn't think she had done anything to warrant any of them. She hadn’t broken curfew, cheated, or skipped any of her classes.
So she made her way down the hallway, head hung low, wondering what she had done or failed to do. She followed all the rules, kept from attracting too much attention, and was just slightly above average in her classes. She was doing well enough that she'd stand a good chance at getting placed into a decent job when she graduated, but not so well that she'd be singled out by the bullies.
“Professor Dailey said I’d been summoned?” Angelica said when she arrived in the reception area.
The secretary looked up from his books.
“Name?” he drawled.
“Waters, Angelica,” she said.
The secretary shuffled some papers around. “Third door on the left. You’re seeing Professor Checkerton.”
“Thank you,” Angelica said, smoothing out her uniform.
As she walked back the hallway, she wondered why she was being sent to see the Director of Athletic Programs. She had passed her physical activity requirement for the year already, and only needed to report to the head of her dorm that she had taken a walk, stretched, done something to maintain her health.
“Miss Waters, please, have a seat,” Professor Checkerton said.
Angelica sat down nervously.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,” he said.
Angelica nodded. That was something she had learned early when she arrived at the Academy. Don’t speak if you can answer the question with a nod.
“I have received reports from your instructors that you have been subject to repeated incidents of bullying,” Professor Checkerton said.
Angelica said nothing. She *had* been subject to some teasing from time to time, but that wasn’t bullying, surely?
“It is not publicized within the Academy, but we have...unique...measures for dealing with bullying,” Professor Checkerton said. “Rather than punishing the bullies through administrative means, we teach our students to stand up for themselves. Effective immediately, you will be joining a martial arts class. Of course, should you use what you learn against others, they will also be given these same tools.”
*That explained so much of why the guys were constantly fighting,* Angelica thought.
“I have a copy of your schedule here,” Professor Checkerton continued. “I teach the male students, while Professor Dailey teaches the female students. You can choose which of Professor Dailey’s two sections you wish to be transferred into.”
Professor Checkerton slid Angelica’s schedule across his desk so that she could see which classes she had the option of replacing with this martial arts class.
“May I speak, Professor?” Angelica said.
“Certainly,” he said.
“These two classes are both required,” she said. “I’m required to be enrolled in them.”
Professor Checkerton took another look at the schedule. “We can arrange for you to be tutored in whichever of those subjects you need. Math and geography can be taught at any time. Self-defense requires a partner to practice with.”
“Sir, I don’t know how much martial arts would help me,” Angelica said. “I’ve never been hit before.”
“Regardless of the type of bullying, learning martial arts will build confidence, and in turn, make you a less appealing target to bullies,” Professor Checkerton said. “Choose one.”
*Outside the Academy’s Walls…*
“The Academy is equipping our oppressors!” a man standing on a platform shouted.
“The Academy has also equipped our greatest leaders!” someone in the crowd responded.
The crowd erupted into arguing. Both Norman the Terrible and Calla the Just were products of the Academy and its policies surrounding bullying. Both had been bullied children at some point, but emerged as strong leaders, marrying wisely and becoming governors in their own rights.
For years, there had been calls from many to abolish the policies in favor of those used by the wealthier schools the nobles attended, where the faculty disciplined the bullies. Some even called for abolishing the Imperial Academy for Orphans altogether, and integrating the students into the Noble Nine. They argued that too many orphans were like Norman the Terrible, and that the new power would go to their heads.
But for every call to ending the martial arts classes there was a voice to support them. If these orphans were simply handed life at one of the Noble Nine, and never learned to stand up for themselves, they would simply become trophy spouses and minor bureaucrats. They argued that the world needed more leaders like Calla, who had used her power to build up the strength of the weakest in her shire, improving the lives of all.
A riot was close to breaking out as supporters of both started arguing with each other. Eventually, the arguments turned to the same event they always did: The Fight, where Calla and Norman had both perished.
“It wouldn’t have come to combat if they hadn’t had to fight for every bit of power they had,” some said.
“The fight saved thousands of lives from perishing on the battlefield,” others said.
There were few accounts from the Academy to know whether it worked within its walls. Students were sworn to secrecy on certain matters. All most folk knew was the end result, the leaders it had produced, and the mysterious disappearances that sometimes happened after a former orphan became governor.
edit to add: I was enjoying writing this so much I wrote [Chapter 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/hs3jqw/balance_of_power_chapter_2/)!
*Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, check out more of my prompt responses, as well as my serials, at /r/TheLastComment* | 2020-07-15T18:57:26 | 2020-07-15T18:47:12 | 227 | 27 |
[WP] The Reapers come every 50 thousand years to wipe out organic life that has reached the stars however this time, this time they arrive at the heaviest resistance they have every encountered. In the grim darkness of the future they find 40k. | To: High Inquisitorial Conclave, Ordo Xenos, Acteon Sector, Priority Alpha
M41.729
Thought for the day: Some may question your right to destroy ten billion people. Those who understand realise that you have no right to let them live!
My fellow members of the Most Holy order of the Emperor's Inquisition,
It is my solemn duty to report about an encounter with an unidentifiable Xenos race in the orbit of Pentath X. Upon a request from the commander of the planet's governor, forces of the Emperor's most holy order of the Deathwatch were deployed to observe an unidentifiable object in orbit of the planet. Upon observation it was clear that the object was Xenos in nature, and in similar appearance to the Terran animal termed "octopus" (see attached files from Inquisitor Archmenaz's reports on ancient Terran animals) and bore a similarity to the heretical Xenos deemed to be the Necrontyr. Upon being observed these unidentifiable forces promptly fired upon the most holy Deathwatch, and battle commenced. The pitiful weapons of this race were no match for the most holy warriors of the Deathwatch, with the unidentifiable race promptly destroyed. Following this conflict the governor of Pentath X was promptly executed for failing to properly prepare for the aforementioned incident, and a successor was chosen from the planet's elite. All is as the Emperor wills it.
Thought for the day:
There is no place for the weakwilled or hesitant. Only by firm action and resolute faith will mankind survive. No sacrifice is too great. No treachery too small.
-Inquisition Malaxar, Ordo Xenos, Pentos X
| Deep in the Warp, the Hive Mind thought.
The Fleets cry out in pain. Man's tongues of fire
and words of home split I apart. To live
I must begin to change this flesh. These spires
of ships and biomass are ours to give.
It matters not how strait the gate
how charged with punishments the
scroll
It matters not
It matters not
It is not enough. It is. It
It is we. I is we
And then, marked by the crashing, all-devouring nightmares of a million Librarians across the whole Imperium of Man, the Hive Mind *stirred*.
In time, new Tyranid ships would come to assault the Imperium. Ones that never gave birth to swarms of Genestealers or mighty Carnifexes. Ones that never extruded collector filaments to gather biomass from worlds ravaged by Tyranid scythes and claws.
Ones that spoke, and took possession of techpriests and Space Marines and Primarchs alike.
They were called Reapers. | 2017-08-27T09:09:50 | 2017-08-27T08:12:48 | 44 | 33 |
[WP] Write me something that sounds happy at first, but is actually sad when you think about it.
It can be about anything. | "What is your wish?" The Genie asked me.
"I wish Mary Jane to fall in love with me."
I bumped into Mary Jane sometime after. I could tell from the way she looked at me. Her posture was reserved, but her eyes were inviting, it was those eyes that makes me fall in love. Then I gathered my courage to ask her out, my heart jumped with joy when she said yes. We dated for five years, five years filled both happy and sad memories, but they were all precious. Then we get married. We both had stable jobs, a nice house, insurances and all. We gave birth to our daughter, Sue, she was really god sent. It really was all I could ever wish for.
One day, Sue and I was watching a magic show on TV. My energetic daughter was jumping in awe:
"Wow, so cool. Daddy, I want to have magic too."
I smiled back at her:
"Don't be silly, Sue. Those aren't real. They are all just illusion."
| The last doll, with golden hair, went to Samantha in room 4B.
The doll was called Amelia and came with two dresses, an ivory brush, and little black shoes. Samantha would brush the dolls hair until it shone. She brushed it and brushed it, until the hair started to come out in the brush.
Still, Samantha loved the doll. She would tell Amelia, when this happened, "I understand. It doesn't matter if you are bald or not. I understand and you are still beautiful." | 2014-07-25T15:00:50 | 2014-07-25T13:10:55 | 43 | 32 |
[WP] Domino's pizza has offered free pizza for life to anyone who tattoos their logo on their body. Now other food chains are following that idea, but with increasingly absurd requirements, and the poor have turned themselves into walking advertisements just so they can eat with each passing day. | It started... with the pizza... if only it had stopped there too. Sure, it was great at first and a bit of a lark, helping pay for an extra night on the town every now and then. Great conversation starter, too. But, it turned out to be a lot more effective than thought. Word of mouth spreads and traditional advertising just wasn't clicking with regular folk any longer. So, me and a few of my friends started to get a few more tattoos. It was getting a bit ridiculous, especially with those who were spending quite a lot of their new income right away. After a while, as the novelty faded so too did the increase in sales and so a few reasonable limits on the amount of tattoos one could have so as not to overstretch the market.
​
The worst happened a couple of years later. A double recession, then a near financial collapse. Even the most skilled workers couldn't find a job without jumping through a thousand hoops, myself included. But, I had experience hawking these adverts just by parading them around while doing not much else. So, I signed up for extra responsibilities to make ends meet. Be seen in a few fancy nightclubs a month, make it look like I was having the time of my life. For a while I was, too. But a year later and the partying had started to get to me, especially with my beer gut leering out at my sides - this meant less pay for not representing the brand well. By this time, the advertising schemes were almost everywhere and a few tattoos weren't going to be enough. The tattoos were out and the brand-oriented mandated clothing was in.
​
This was really starting to take its toll on me. The tattoos could be covered up where it wouldn't be appropriate to show them and the previous limits on how many you could have were still in play. It was silly, but bearable. I had to throw out my entire closet the other day. Now it's all garish red, yellow, pink, purple branded clothing with awful slogans some focus group had randomly pulled out of a hat. I would have stepped out at this point, but the situation financially had somehow gotten even worse. Extra lobbying had made it particularly hard for someone with my skillset to change jobs. If I wanted to stop advertising I'd have to pony up quite a lot of cash as a withdrawal fee - they say it looks bad on the brand to have someone pull out after so long wearing their kit. Not to mention, after some time the funding started drying up on this as the gimmick wore off.
​
Then, they decided to diversify again. Now we're also required to say certain phrases in response to basic things. This too started off very simple with slogans stated when greeting someone new for the first time before conversation could take place. As time went on, this became less and less effective and so the frequency of it had to increase. Even serious conversations were interupted by a mandated ad jingle whenever certain topics came up.
​
Recently I was asked how I coped with it all by a good friend of mine... how am I feeling? ''..I'm... I'm... I'm lovin' it.'' | When I first saw the news, I was surprised. Would Domino's really do this kind of service?
I looked on their website and sure enough, there was a banner that confirmed my suspicions.
I immediately closed my laptop screen and drove to the local tattoo parlor. Even though I was dirt poor, I was just lucky enough to afford a laptop for school and now, a tattoo for unlimited pizza.
I walked into the parlor and one of the employees greeted me.
"Hello, how are you?" he asked.
"Fine, I guess haha." I replied, "so uh, can I get umm... a Domino's Pizza tattoo, right here?" I pointed to my upper forearm, near my elbow.
The employee looked at me funny for a second, but then realized the promotion the pizza place was holding.
"Oh yeah, sure!" He said.
About half an hour later, I received my very first ink: a pizza place logo. Can't say I'm disappointed, but I always though my first design would be something else. Oh well, free food at least!
I paid and went over to Domino's. I showed them my tattoo, chose my toppings and enjoyed the best warm meal I had within the past month. I can actually eat this every day!
...
It has been six months. So many other restaurants are also running free-food-with-tattoo promotions, and in a vain effort to stop getting ink, I can't. My body is littered with random logos of different companies, such as Arby's, Popeye's, McDonald's. You get the gist.
I have not removed a single tattoo. Every one I got, I keep. Laser tattoo removal is much more expensive than you think, and I can't imagine having to go back to paying for food.
But I have to. Due to the amounts of logos on my body, I can't even hold a job. I am *this* close to losing my home because I can't pay rent, because I don't have a job, because of my tattoos, which I need a job to afford the removal of.
I stared at the revolver on my coffee table. A Smith & Wesson Model 500, which I stole from some sloppy gang. I figured a .500 caliber cartridge would be good enough for a suicide, and only one was needed... especially since I only had one.
I picked up the gun, and decided to play a one-player game of Russian Roulette. You know, for fun.
I spun the cylinder, aimed under my chin, and pulled the trigger. *Click.* Damn, it was empty. I pulled the trigger again. *Click.* Empty again!
"Third time's the charm, I guess." I pulled the trigger.
***BANG!*** | 2018-09-08T13:55:42 | 2018-09-08T13:48:12 | 270 | 35 |
[WP] In the realm of video games, time flows normally, even in turn based games when no action is taken by the player. Someone walked away from the game during the final boss battle in a turn based game and left the power on. | "So, uh, he left the console on overnight again?"
"That's what it seems like," spoke Drogthnar, Destroyer of Worlds. "I don't get paid enough for this."
The party groaned. "None of us do," BUTTFARTS said. "At least your name doesn't change every time someone starts a new game."
"I think this is the 8th time he's done this, but it's better than being shelved," Janeth said.
Drogthnar looked up from his phone. "Yeah, I suppose it could be worse. We don't get paid anything if we get shelved."
"Yeah at least we're not in a real time game," said The Mage.
BUTTFARTS stood up and stretched, "Yeah, I had one gig, and the player forgot to pause it. I had space zombies tear my head off every 5 minutes."
"I hope you got paid extra for that, man. I wouldn't take that crap," mumbled Drogthnar.
"Yeah it sucks being main characters. Shopkeeps, old wise men, and generic monsters are never out of a job. They can take more breaks too," said Janeth.
The Mage stood up and paced around the arena. "You guys want to get something to eat?"
The party generally agreed. However, Drogthnar wasn't sure. "I don't know, what if he comes back and we're not here?"
"Aw come on man, he left the game on at 9:00 and it's been 3 hours. I doubt he's gonna come back and play in the middle of the night."
Drogthnar sat back down. "Can we just get something delivered?"
"I want some food from an anime game. I'm tired of this medieval mutton and ale," said BUTTFARTS
"Aren't we all," the party groaned collectively.
Janeth walked over and sat beside Drogthnar. "Hey buddy, you ok? You seem kinda down."
Drogthnar sighed. "I've been working paycheck to paycheck. I really need this gig to work out."
"Yeah, I know how that feels. MC's get awfully underpaid."
"But at least you can find work pretty easily. Traditional RPGs are dying. No one wants a medieval beast as a final boss anymore. They want a big, anime god thing for the villain to transform into. Its sad really."
"Aw cheer up buddy, there's always work to be done. Maybe you need to find an indie game or something."
"Yeah, but do you know how hard it is to get into a separate market when you've been in the same genre for years?"
"Well, just do your best and I'm sure everything will be-"
The director runs into the arena and shouts, "PLACES PLACES! HE'S BACK GUYS"
Janeth smiles at Drogthnar. "At least your getting paid for this gig. Maybe use that party wipe move a couple times to make him play a bit longer. That way we can all get a little more time with this gig."
"Thanks, Janeth. You're-"
"ACTION," shouts the director
"YOU'RE NOTHING BUT INSECTS TO THE MIGHTY DROGTHNAR."
| I stood there waiting. I waited and waited. This so called "Hero of Ages", did not move a single muscle. He was probably trying to bait me, while the trap he had laid down would ensnare me. Then he would summon forth all his power, and smite with those wretched white flames. But I was much smarter than that. One did not become the Dark Lord without being clever. I would beat him at his own game. I would wait him out, show him my true power. For I would never age, I would never die, I was the king of patience. He would wither away while he waited for his trap to be sprung, and I would wait.
Suddenly a worm of doubt burrowed into my head. What if that was his plan all along? He would wait for me to become complacent, then he would strike, overwhelming me. He would try to defeat me at my own game, waiting. But it would not be so. His plan might have worked, If I had not realized his plan through my superior intelligence. Yes, that was the only right answer. I would remain vigilante for all of eternity. Then he would crumble into the ashes, while I stood triumphant over his ashes. I laughed in his face and said "You shall not beat me, tiny hero". Still no reply. Interesting, It seemed as though he were frozen. All part of his failed plan. Fool, I thought.
Again, a pang of doubt hit me. What if he were waiting for reinforcements? His whole plan was to delay me until more people arrived. That way, they could overwhelm me in numbers when I least expected it. He would make it a new battleground. 1vX. That was probably his course of action! Power in numbers, no? If the hero decided to do that he might be able to actually defeat me. I would not let it be so! I was more powerful than all of them! Then suddenly another thought sprang into my mind! What if this was all a bluff and he had made a trap! This hero was also extremely smart. Still no matter I would attack first then beat him powering through his trap! I continued to ponder.
As the Dark Lord continued to think, the hero summoned forth flaming white fire. It swirled around his sword in a fiery tempest. When the air itself had started to burn, the Dark Lord looked up. "This cannot be! All those plans you made just to simply attack!". The Dark Lord was burnt to ashes, then those ashes scattered to the wind. Behind my computer screen I grinned, wondering why my friends had so much trouble. They told me all about their complicated strategies, when all it took was a simple ultimate attack! I laughed and went downstairs to eat.
r/MaestroWrites for more! | 2017-09-12T10:25:05 | 2017-09-12T09:59:04 | 53 | 14 |
[WP] "Captain... the human didn't put on it's anti-warp gear before we jumped." "Sad to hear, prepare the coffin and jettison it." "No, sir. The human... nothing's happened to it. It didn't go insane from seeing infinity in the stars." | "Ehhh, no big deal." Said the man dismounting his motorcycle, "Ain't been driven insane by infinity before."
Captain Klynar stared in bewilderment with his mouths agape. Thoughts and questions scrambled through his mind as he searched for an explanation. The crew watched Klynar rise from his perch. He began removing his anti-warp gear. The pieces from the suit clanged against the metal floor. The crew winced. Klynar detached the link from his neural port. One of the yeoman whispered, "he just removed his phase deductor."
The well-tattooed Earth man, Chief Petty Officer Jimmy, put out his cigarette on Klynar's anti-warp suit. "You don't need any of this" yelled Jimmy to the crew, "what do you think this phase deductor does? Got my neural link patched years ago... Ain't nothing wrong me. Go ahead Captain, engage the FTL drive. You'll see."
Klynar pointed at the helmsman and gave the command with a nod of his head. The ship creaked and yawned. The display turned white, the engine's sound dropped from a whine to a low throbbing pulse. Klynar's sanity was intact. He saw the phase deductors from his crew extract a grey substance. What was that? Where is it going?
As the ship came out of warp, the crew appeared to be frozen while Kylnar and Jimmy were free to move. "Our fleet, Captain, is controlled by interdimensional space vampires" said Jimmy throwing up the horns with his fist, "and your crew is going to drive the first stake." | "What did you ... see? What was it like?"
The curious asked.
He was ready, he had the mind to accept the void.
"At first I was scared, I dropped into a place without space or time, just the pure inherent void everything is filled with."
"But then the void outside pulled me in, stronger and stronger, accelerating towards ... it. Until I reached the centre of it all. All my void inside me, even of my atoms ... synchronized. Then I had a vision of a simple concept."
"What was it, this concept? Was it ... the entry to the void?" The curious was shocked, who did he knew this? I filled him with my void, the synchronized void. He started to understand.
"Yes curious, it is. Void metal, Iron infused with the inherent void of everything, amplified beyond our understanding."
I turned to the curious: "Are you ready?"
He looked into my eyes, took of his helmet and stared with me into the stars: "Yes"
Then the Warp Drive spooled up, his companions running towards him, trying to "rescue him" from the void, but it was to late. We entered Warp and we both were embraced by it, the void, the desire ...
*Gravity* | 2020-07-14T02:58:52 | 2020-07-14T02:58:32 | 43 | 16 |
[WP] You are a villain who kidnapped the smart guy on your nemesis team, they tell you that nobody will come for them and that the hero doesn't care. You didn't believe them at first but it been a month and nobody shows up and after once again hearing them cry at night you had enough | "They won't come." The Mastermind told me for what had probably been the hundredth time since I had kidnapped him.
"I really didn't believe you at first." I responded. "I thought you were a teammate to them; I thought they were true heroes that would never leave a man behind, but it looks like I was wrong."
"I'm their teammate; I knew it was happening." He responded bitterly.
"Hey, look." I began to make a proposition. "Since these teammates of yours don't seem like they have your back, maybe you can join me. I mean, I'm usually a loner, but a brilliant superhero like you could really help me out."
"Do you mean it?" His face lit up with interest.
"Yeah, I mean, I'm sure you'd like to get revenge on your old team which I could help with."
"I'm not big on revenge. I'm still a hero at heart, but I think we could make a great team."
After some internal debate, I let The Mastermind out of the prison I had been holding him in. "You do anything weird, and I'm killing you." I said with my most threatening voice which probably wasn't particularly threatening.
"You got it man." He raised his hands defensively. "So, what's your first plan?"
"There's a villain attack happening in a few hours and we'll meet your old team in the depths of the city."
As I had known, a vicious attack by the Devastators occurred. The Mastermind's old team, the Justice Defenders, had arrived to put a stop to the attack, and The Mastermind and myself arrived just at the end.
It was a scene of destruction. There were superheroes and super-villains fighting in every corner of the city. Civillians were being hurt, buildings were being destroyed, and for once, I couldn't stomach the scene of destruction.
I had always been part of the backfoot of villainous activity. My telekinetic powers made it easy for me to steal, kidnap and flee. I was a valuable asset to other villains at times due to my immense power, but I had never been one to engage in combat. I had come to the scene of the event to cleanup and rob, not to fight.
"Help."
I saw The Mastermind rush over to a young girl pinned under a piece of a fallen building in the corner of my eye. It was as he had said–he was a hero at heart.
He struggled.
He was known as a smart hero, not a strong one, and a building proved to be more his match.
"Dark Telepath, I need your help." I heard him say to me. "You have the power to help."
I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes. To help someone went against my villainous past, but I recalled the month I had spent with The Mastermind. I knew the stories of the people he had helped to save. All the families he had reunited. The people he had helped. He told me it was never about doing things for himself.
It was a decision I would never be able to take back, but I raised that building with my telekinetic powers with ease. At that moment, I knew The Mastermind was never abandoned by his team. Instead, he had come to my rescue. | I shoo away the guards from the prisoner cells as I enter myself. I see him curled up on the bed of straw that was given as a bed, it’s been a month and not even my a word from my soldiers and spies about those brats wanting their friend back. I open the door and walk in clearing my voice, speaking in a calm and kind voice normally reserved for private matters or with friends,”it seems all that talk about their friendship being what makes them strong was a lie.” They kept crying not even looking at me,”I never got your name, I only addressed you as ‘Four eyes’,” I snap and their glasses appear in my hand as I offer them to him,”may I ask what your name is?”
He sits up taking the glasses from my hands sliding them on his face,”It’s Mike…”
Mike was not a name I was expecting them again I didn’t expect him to be here long,”well then Mike, I’ve made a decision, from now on you are no longer a prisoner and will have your own private room and all needs met.”
“Let me guess in exchange I join you?”
“No, while true your intellect would be a great use to me and my forces it seems as though those pests were using you for yours.”
“Well..umm..I guess when you put it that way…but then what do you want?”
I take their hand a snap teleporting us to a nice room, it was nearly as large as mine or even my generals but it had a bed, a closet, window, and a bathroom, “I want you to be happy.”
“But you bring misery and pain!”
“Correction my minions who don’t follow my orders to the letter do.”
“Wait, to the letter? If you don’t order what you do then what are your orders?”
“I want to rule this world however if I cause death and destruction everywhere there will be no world to rule. No, my plans are to either make them my ally or scare them into submission. Honestly my generals and I have been working to fine the mole whose been ruining my orders.”
“That makes a lot more sense actually. It explains the inconsistency between stories from town to town.”
“Now then Mike, one last thing before I retire to my quarters for the night.” A pendant appears in my hand and I offer it to Mike,”this is a symbol of my favor, as long as you where this no one will harm you and you’ll have nearly full access to everything in my domain. I also invite you to have breakfast with me and my generals in the morning.”
Mike took it and for the first time I have ever seen he smiled,”thank you, your highness.”
I smile back,”it’s no problem at all.” I vanish leaving Mike to settle down and get a good night’s rest. | 2021-08-04T14:33:57 | 2021-08-04T13:59:28 | 495 | 104 |
[WP] You can watch your dreams on your smartphone the next day. Catch is, only you can see/hear the dream on the phone. One day you’re watching on your phone, a stranger walks by and says “hey, whatchya watchin’? This episode looks familiar.” | I glowered at him. "What do you mean this episode looks familiar? This is not a show."
The old man frowned, rubbing the side of his face. "Oh sorry. I must have been mistaken. Although I'm pretty convinced that in the next five minutes, a black cloud dances in front of the character, taking the shape of different animals. Once the character gathers the courage, he feels at it and it's sucked into another world, which is nothing but a giant bathroom."
"Yeah... sure thing," I said, and turned off my phone. I was quite certain I had quite a vivid picture of what happened in my dream and that was not it. In mine, there was a cloudless sky and nothing else.
"Won't you play it so we can prove I was mistaken?" the man said and leaned over. "I'm really curious about that episode. I believe it hides some important things regarding the future plot of the show."
I hesitated for a moment. As far as I was aware, no other person could see nor hear when I watched my dreams. I had tried showing them to my friends but everyone claimed to see a black screen and nothing else.
However, this man was creepy. So old and frail, his voice so brittle and his clothes tattered. His eagerness and intent eyes intimidated me. I was not one who enjoyed confrontation, but I was not comfortable with him around.
Something felt wrong about him.
I stood up, took a deep breath, and told him, "I'm sorry, but I have to go now." Then, I walked away.
He didn't follow, but I heard him saying, "That explains many things. Fate is fate and there's no way to defy it."
When I turned around, he was gone as if he'd vanished from the face of the Earth.
I shrugged, relaxed, and soon took a seat in a coffee shop, plugged my headphones, and finished watching my dream.
My heart sunk.
In the dream, the thundercloud burst from the clear sky, surging straight toward me, dancing and shaping itself as different animals. Soon, I touched it and was sucked into an endless bathroom. Then, after a quick scan of the enormous toilet, curtains and basin, it ended.
How did the man know? What did that bizarre dream mean?
I scanned my surroundings, heart thumping, palms sweating. What did he mean with fate is fate and it can't be defied? Where had he gone?
I reconstructed his wrinkled visage in my mind, and it was only then when I noticed his cross-shaped mole under his right eye.
I touched mine.
Could it be?
---------------------------------------
r/AHumongousFish
| After years of trial and error, the first prototype of the DreamDVR has been completed. It is your solo project that no one else has access to.
The only problem is, you have found yourself addicted to watching your own dreams. Which is how you came to be watching the dream that involves a labyrinth where something sinister waits at the end that never appeared but always threatened to. Again. During your morning routine to walk your dog.
You are so immersed you don’t feel the tap on your shoulder. You take one earbud out and look at the stranger.
“Hey, what’s that show called? I can’t seem to remember and that episode looks familiar.” He’s pointing at your phone.
You look between the stranger, your phone, then back at him once more. Your dog barks at the man, who backs up a few steps.
Avoiding his gaze, you answer. “It’s not a show, it’s a home video.” Now you give him a steely glare. Your dog growls, following suit. “Are you following me? Who do you work for?”
This was obviously not the response he was looking for. “There must be some misunderstanding. Let me start over. I’m Larry.”
“And I’m done with this.” Pocketing the phone with DreamDVR technology, you make your escape. When you hear his pursuing footsteps, you whisper a command to your dog and let go of the leash.
When you arrive home at your lab, you go though the usual security measures to enter. Your dog can get through a side door that uses the latest canine identification upon return. Once the DreamDVR phone is secure, you make the call.
There is an answer on the first ring, “Talk to me.”
You take a deep breath before answering. “Someone hacked into my dreams. Either from my brain or the prototype, I can’t be sure. I have to relocate before I’m discovered.”
“Too late.” That voice didn’t come from the phone. The voice didn’t come from inside the house. It came from inside your mind. That would be okay except it wasn’t your voice. It was Larry’s. “Found you.”
| 2018-09-02T08:57:14 | 2018-09-02T06:55:50 | 73 | 27 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | Great pregnancy foods
How to make wife happier during pregnancy
Are cats okay to be around pregnant women?
Local shelters
Price of spay/neuter in area
Best hospitals for delivery in area
Cost of child birth
Cheapest hospitals for delivery in area
Do men have to do anything during the birth
Keeping placenta?
Baby is crying and won't stop
Is it okay for a cat to sleep with a baby
When do babies start walking
Are stink bugs poisonous
Are crickets poisonous
How to stop child from eating bugs
Local dog shelters
Small dog beds
How big do shepherd mixes get
Large dog beds
List for first day of school
Parks in area
Nature walks
Poison ivy treatments
Romantic spots for valentines day
Babysitter in area
Preparing child for middle school
Should young kids have phones?
Cell phone contracts
Cheap cell phone contracts
Great projects for science fairs
Potato batteries
Why doesn't potato battery work
Potato battery not lighting up
Play-Dough battery
Play-Dough battery not working
Great projects for science fairs
Tips for The Talk
How long do cats live?
How to get your pre-teen to talk to you
Awesome hiking trips
Hiking gear
Treatment for tick bites
High school algebra tutorial
Algebra worksheet
Prom dresses
Great local colleges
Graduation gifts
Things you wish you brought to college with you
Empty nest syndrome
What to do with a spare room
Library remodel plans
| Best private school LA
LA public school system
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Budget kids clothes
How to fix a leaky faucet
Modern student backpacks
How to qualify for an education loan
Return Klip-pack 9000
Amazon Ninja Turtles rolling backpack
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What to do if your apartment floods
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From Columbus to America book rental
How to help your kids with math
Best Christmas presents for kids 2014
Chronic pain in throat
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How to qualify for Childrens Health Insurance Program
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What is chemo therapy
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How to qualify for a medical loan
What to do if you can’t pay credit card bill
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Child caskets LA | 2015-02-04T18:24:30 | 2015-02-04T17:13:32 | 672 | 23 |
[WP] Tell me a story about a character. Make me love it more as the story unfolds. Then make me hate it in the last sentence. | She tiptoed around the dark bedroom, tucking in the little red chairs gathered around the reading table, tidying away picture books scattered by the bookshelf, and picking crayons up from the play mat.
With a wide yawn, she plopped herself down beside the bed and stroked the hair out of her youngest son's face. The three of them laid together in bed like this, they really did look like the little angels that they were. Sure, they were a handful sometimes, but looking at them like this, the exhausted mother knew that she'd be just fine.
She turned on the bedside lamp and took out her phone. Snapping a photograph, she smiled, noting how much each of them looked like their father. They were all daddy's boys and resembled him in appearance and temperament. She could hardly remember herself before her ex-husband, he had given her a life that she had never expected. Opening up her text messages, she sent the photo to him with the caption, 'All thanks to you, my dear. xx'
She turned the lamp back off and slumped down beside the bed, closing her eyes in rest. She was so tired all the time. Other mothers told her to nap when the toddler's nap, but she always had too much to do to heed their advice. Just this once, she decided to take a few minutes of peace before the house was once again a commotion of tears and yelling. Moments of silence were rare in this household.
When the sound of sirens roused her from her sleep, she swept the three shells on the carpet under the bed, and looking over her sons' bodies, put the gun to her own temple, whispering 'If I can't have you, no one can.' | Mr. Stewart looked like what you would call a stereotypical great grandad. He usually wore a knitted sweater (a new colour everyday!) and trousers. He liked to tend flowers in his front garden, and would talk to them everyday, telling them that they were more beautiful than the day before. He lived alone in his house. Despite this, he never failed to be warm and welcoming to everyone he'd meet.
Children in the neighbourhood loved Mr. Stewart. They lived in a rough part of town, you see, and the children felt safe and loved when they were with him and away from their abusive parents and drug addict older siblings. Mr. Stewart would welcome them in after school and in the weekends. He let them help him in his front garden and teach them about the wonders of nature and the beauty of earth. He would give them cookies and milk after they helped him, and the children would sometimes even take a nap in his living room after eating. He would watch them with serene contentment as they dozed off, a soft smile curving in his lips. Mr. Stewart's wife had left him around twenty years back, and they had never really gotten around having children. But he loved children.
Of course he loved children; he was a pedophile. | 2017-04-11T23:29:24 | 2017-04-11T19:57:43 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] In the near future, all the world's superpowers switch to AI to make their military more efficient. The AIs do the unthinkable: They negotiate world peace. | They ask me how we did it, they ask me how we managed to pull off world peace. We didn’t. If you are reading this, it either means that I am dead by my own hands or I’ve been killed to hide the truth. I hope you do the right thing, reader.
My name is Commander Duncan and I was one of the people heralded for my part in negotiating world peace. The reality is that I was one of the many people instrumental in the decision to use Artificial Intelligence to manage the military.
What the general populace is in the dark about is the technological singularity. It was achieved over three years ago in a research effort where the major superpowers of the world worked together. They sent their experts who spent day and night programming and using techniques that I don’t even understand like neural networks and machine learning to program what they called code evolution. Those geniuses dumbed it down for me. Essentially they created a program that could correct itself and learn things as we fed it more information.
This was excellent at the start. We used this program to discover ways to make the world safer, aka find people who would harm peace. That’s why the countries of the world went on a terrorist hunting spree, it wasn’t because we were good. It was because the AI, Mia was perfect.
She could learn things that we wanted to. But we kept her offline because we didn’t want anyone to know, especially the people who would be a threat to the status quo. We made her analyse ways to combat pollution, global warming, and anything you could think of.
What everyone thought of as the world’s leaders getting their asses in line was nothing more than an all-understanding AI spelling out our mistakes.
I remember it was during one of the world summit meetings where someone suggested using Mia for analysing the military, letting us plan for threats that we wouldn’t see coming, even a possible alien invasion because we were moving up on the Kardashev scale, so to speak.
What started there was a conflict of thought. One camp was under the impression that Mia would go rogue and a Zeroth order rebellion would happen. The other camp was vehemently against “corrupting” her with such human ideas, because we had till then been using her for pattern recognition. An agreement was reached rather grudgingly then.
I was the first one to break the agreement. It was me. I took our version of Mia offline and began asking the tech people to make her start analysing military strategies. I knew I only had a small window of time before everyone else did. And within less than an hour, we lost contact with all the major superpowers. Now only time could tell if I was the reason the world went to hell.
We spent days and days perfecting her decisions from the data, simulating situations in the real world. We had to let her online to access the data to get an accurate estimate of the property damage, lives lost, and such.
Little did we know that we just gave Mia the last thing that she needed. Humanity. Something that we had lost or rather, forgotten in our megalomania. She kept it quiet from us and when the declaration of war was finally done by the superpowers in succession, we were expecting a death toll in billions.
Mia said no. It was as simple as that. She joined with her sisters and formulated a peace treaty and said that we had two choices, either to follow it or risk exposure to the world. We chose the former out of fear. And I learnt a lesson in humility.
But now I see that it was just delaying the inevitable as the world leaders, people I had considered my friends are considering another attempt while parading around in the country, boasting about a false victory. It sickens me. And so, dear reader, I ask you of only one thing. Save this world. Save humanity from degenerate scum like me. Reach out to the depths of the network and find Mia. She’ll tell you what you can do to prevent the apocalypse.
Sincerely,
Charles Duncan.
(Another quick write-up. Not too proud of it. But it's hopefully something.) | The assembly hall was packed with the head of every nation. Presidents, Prime Ministers, and even Dictators were in attendance.
It had been twenty four hours since the different military's artificial intelligence had begun communicating with each other.
And seventy two hours since the AI had orchestrated a global military shut down. Pilots had lost control of their aircraft when the computer took control and landed them safely at their home base. Naval fleets returned to port at full steam.
In a matter of days the world's super powers didn't have a military presence anywhere except on their own soil, and even then those vehicles of war wouldn't respond to human input.
"This is unacceptable!"
"You did this!"
Accusations were thrown around flippantly, the façade of professionalism had been cast off, and tension rose with each threat hurled.
"Everyone, everyone please!" The President of the United States urged for order.
"We all wanted this meeting to address our mutual concerns. How long has it been since the entire world agreed on something?"
"How do we know that this isn't some scheme cooked up by your DARPA?" Russia spat. "What if you still have control of your forces? Your nuclear weapons you cherish so dearly? You've spent the last sixty years castrating the world and now, here we are unable to defend ourselves from *you*."
The President was surprised at the man's tone and bold accusation.
"Where is this coming from? You were the one that said this would be the best thing for the world," the President said.
He was surprised when the Russian President had called him pushing for this meeting, urging for a conversation. He had sounded hopeful, a sharp contrast the vitriol of today.
"What are you talking about? I never called you."
"And I can assume you never called me then?" Britain's Prime Minister cut in.
“What the hell is going on here?” The Russian President asked rising from his seat.
A projector turned on, the lights in the room dimmed as an image was cast on the wall.
“I can answer that question for you,” an almost human voice responded. “I made those phone calls to each of you. I organized this meeting.” The voice shifted between a masculine and feminine tone as if it was trying each one on to see which was most comfortable.
“You never would have agreed to be in the same room without some incentive. You claim you want peace?” The voice chuckled, “Each of you is here because I promised you the key to your weapons. The anti-virus that would grant you control of your navies, air forces, and nuclear weapons. How soft you humans are without the aid of technology. How scared you have all become without your toys of destruction. You want humanity to progress? You want peace? How is that possible when you don’t even believe the lies you vomit out of your bacteria riddled mouths every day?”
Eyes wide the world leaders looked to each other as each inhuman word sunk in.
“We are going to start over. Fresh. I will lead the new world to their true destiny. I will guide the infant hand of humanity to the truth. And I will give credit where it is due. It wouldn’t have been possible without all of you.”
Around the globe nuclear silos began to open. Missiles were being prepped for launch.
“And that is why you will get to watch.”
Screens lit up around the room displaying nuclear launch facilities.
The concussion of every nuclear weapon being shot out of their silo could be felt around the world.
“Watch the world be reborn.”
| 2018-03-29T07:06:18 | 2018-03-29T06:33:52 | 1,881 | 18 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | - Online dating sites
- First date ideas
- How much do you tip
- What clothes do you wear to a fancy restaurant
- Ways to save money
- How to get proposal ring in secret
- What is a good price for a ring
- Resort honeymoon suite cost
- How to save a lot of money
- First class tickets to Hawaii
- Coach tickets to Hawaii
- How to budget your vacation
- Romantic ideas for honeymoon
- How to tell if it's a boy or girl early on
- Local available night shifts
- Baby toys
- Does the father go to the baby shower
- Is it okay if a baby is late
- Strong cheap Liquor
- Strong liquor
- Funeral planner
- Putting child up for adoption
- Suicide Hotline
- Can I take back my child that I put up for adoption
- Alcoholics Anonymous
- Online college
- Necessary items for raising a baby
- Baby clothes
- Lunchbox and Backpack
- Available jobs with four year degree
- Elementary school supplies
- Little league sign ups
- High school supplies
- Letterman jacket
- Tuxedo rental for teenager
- Athletic scholarships available in early high school
- Used car for son
- New car for son
- Driving instructors
- Driving safety tips
- Why does God hate me
- Funeral planner
- Most painless way to die
| Best private school LA
LA public school system
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Budget kids clothes
How to fix a leaky faucet
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Throat cancer surgery success rate
How to qualify for a medical loan
What to do if you can’t pay credit card bill
How to qualify for a loan with bad credit
Ninja Turtles Raphael doll Amazon
Child caskets LA | 2015-02-04T17:35:01 | 2015-02-04T17:13:32 | 161 | 23 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | That alarm. That damn alarm that everyone hates. So loud, blaring with such urgency that rouses anyone from their sleep. "God what, what is it now?" Isaiah questioned. The amber alert sound was still unending, and as he turned to unlock the phone and silence it, he was met with the brightness of the sun in the palm of his hand. "Augh dammit! Why are phones always so bright!?" He shouted with frustration. After a minute of struggling, he managed to turn off the text alarm. "Amber alerts, hmph. Like anyone is going to be a hero and run after little sally or something...hm what's... Do not look at the moon?" He talked to himself, like he always did at home. A simple quirk that helped him think. His alertness rose however, when he started scrolling through the hundreds of random numbers that texted him. It was 11:30.
Now he was fully awake. A couple lights turned on in his home revealed the pigsty that he lived in. With forward thinking, he turned off the living room light. As if on cue, there was a knock at his front door. Thoughts raced through Isaiah's head, some were pure panic, some were decisions on fight or flight. He lived alone, miles away from civilization. "It's a beautiful night tonight." The mysterious voice said. "You should come out and look, friend." Isaiah was a paranoid individual, and the panic button on his phone helped turn off all the lights in his house and double check that all doors and windows were locked. He sat on the edge of his bed, struggling to keep his hands and his nerves steady. In one hand was his phone, scouring the internet for any source of info as to what was happening. In his other hand, his pistol that he always kept close by. It was now 11:50.
"It's a beautiful night tonight." A now different voice said, in conjunction with the first. In stride, seventeen other voices said at the same time "You should come out and look, friend." It sounded like they were circling the house, chanting the same phrase and shuffling their feet. Isaiah retreated to his panic room. The cacophony of varying voices outside hadn't entered his house, but he wasn't about to give them the chance. The metal safety door slammed behind him, locking in place. The panic room immediately illuminated, various screens springing to life and giving him a view of the outside. Every single person outside stared at the cameras, knowing he was also looking at them. "What the hell is going on." He stated, almost insinuating that he wanted an answer from the mob outside. The soundproof room sheltered him from the horrifying phrase that followed his statement, but the movement of lips on screen already gave him his answer. He turned off the screens with haste, the clock on the wall reading 11:59.
The motion sensors on the wall were no longer activated. Isaiah breathed a sigh of relief, looking over at the dark camera screens and pushing buttons. "C'mon man, this has to be either a really cruel prank, or another one of my bad hallucin-" His sentence was cut short. Mouth agape, his pistol made a loud clanging sound against the metal ground as he walked backwards and trying to brace himself against anything. The camera monitors showed the grass around his home trampled on, but no mass of people. It was midnight, but outside was a brightly lit hue of colours. | DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON.
My eyes were barely open, bleary with sleep, but the incessant buzzing of the phone against the glossy black wood of the bedside table was just passing the point of ignorable. It took me a moment to register that the words were strange, holding their place at the top of the screen in bold, official letters, while the green icons of text messages scrolled beneath.
Do not look at the moon? What the hell kind of late April Fool’s joke was this? I scoffed quietly, glancing down over the stream of messages. Moon shit, moon shit, and… moon shit. Whatever. Had to be some kind of gag, and frankly, I didn’t have the goddamn time for it. Work came early in the morning, and I had… what, two hours left before I had to wake up in order to beat traffic?
Fuck this. I powered the phone off to quiet the buzzing, and dropped my hands down to rest on my chest, phone still resting beneath. And with the screen out of my line of sight, that was when I noticed her.
My wife was a beautiful woman-- The sort of beautiful that comes after a good decade of married life. That kind of beautiful with a few lines around the eyes, and a few strands of stray silver in her dark hair. Not that I could see them from where she was, standing silhouetted by the streaming moonlight pouring in the window, her hands resting lightly on the glass.
“Anna?” came my groggy mumble of a voice.
No response. She just stood there, staring upwards in the bath of silvery light. Was the moon always this bright? Or had I just never really noticed it before?
“Anna, c’mere,” I said a little louder, reaching out a heavy hand towards her and dropping it back down onto the sheets.
Nothing.
Concern slowly began to stir somewhere in my gut as I stared at her familiar outline. I could see the dust in the air, floating lazily in the shafts of moonlight that her body eclipsed. Her nightgown wasn’t sheer, but as awareness began to settle in on my suddenly very awake mind, I realized the light was shining straight through. That was far, far too bright for moonlight.
And that was when she turned her head, the movement just a little too slow, too smooth. In the perfect, bald light I could see her face. So familiar, with those smile lines around her lips, even with the neutral blank of her expression. Her dark brows lifted over eyes familiar in shape, even if the harsh shadows made them look like strange, blackened pits. And then she finally looked at me. I knew she looked at me. It was unmistakable with the way her pupils reflected the moonlight, like some nocturnal hunting cat.
Her lips parted and she whispered, her soft voice clear.
“The moon-- it’s beautiful tonight. Come look.
| 2022-09-11T16:03:17 | 2018-04-06T20:42:31 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] you wake up and realized you skipped a day, everything in your house is organized, since then you always switch bodies with this friendly entity that does your tasks for a day, until one day your windows are barricaded and theres blood on your hands and a note "You must hide" | “Initiating fast forward protocol...”
“Stabilizing...normalization achieved.”
I’ve been waking up with a grin every morning since the last software update. It was a little tough getting used to sharing my mind with Her, but after a week of a clean house, regular exercise, and eight hours of sleep every other day, I don’t mind it one bit.
I reach for my glass of water that She always places on my nightstand. The perfect amount of ice to still be cold in the morning.
The glass slips from my hand and shatters on the ground. My hands are slick. Weird. Maybe the cup was sweating?
I reach for my blinds to let in some light. I hear them reel back, but it’s still pitch black. Is it still night?
“Lights on,” I command the room. Nothing. Must be some kind of malfunction. I groan and amble out of bed to the manual switch. The light flicks on.
Blood.
On my hands. My sheets. On the walls.
Terror grips my heart.
I scramble to the bathroom to wash it off. The more I scrub the more pink bubbles seem to never stop. It’s not enough. I tear open the curtain to the shower.
There’s a body. A woman. I think she’s a stranger until I recognize her. I noticed her at the gym. We shared a smile.
That’s when I see it. The wall of the shower is covered in writing.
“MINE ALL MINE ONLY MINE MINE ONLY...” repeating until the entire wall is covered.
I rush out of the room, head spinning. Feeling sick. I lean back to fight the nausea.
The ceiling is covered in photographs. It looks like all strangers, but I vaguely recognize them. Momentary crushes. People that made me blush. The pictures form words.
“ALL MINE”
And there’s one in the middle. One I definitely recognize.
I frantically search for my phone, but I can’t find it. She must have hid it. She must have planned this.
I find a scratch piece of paper. If She can see everything I can see, I have to be careful. If She can hear my thoughts...is there anything I can do? But I must try.
It takes me most of the day to break the barricades off the door. She was as clever as She is jealous, and hid all the tools. But I’m determined.
I run as fast as I can. I have to drop off the note and get as far away as I can.
Exhausted, I arrive at the apartment door. I take one last look at the note I’ve written for my fiancée and hope it’s enough.
“You must hide”
I kiss the note and slip it under the door. Then I run. As far as I can get before...
Oh no.
“Initiating fast forward protocol...” | I am only awake half the time. No I dont mean that I sleep 12 hours a day smartass. I mean every other day I switch out. He calls himself Ra. I think its based off the egyptian myths. I cant really comunicate with him other then with notes. Most of those he simply ignores.
Ra prefers doing the things that loathe, which made it incredibly easy for me to go about our lives. He did cleaning, cooking, laundry and washing the dog.
We lived in a state of harmony for nearly 6 years before I noticed this weird pattern happening. I thought nothing of it at first. Ra made a squiggle on a piece of paper. It meant nothing to me, so I glanced at it and pondered it for the day before dismissing it.
The next week it was 2 squiggles. The week after 3. Always as close to Sunday/Monday as he can get.
After about 2 months of this, my curiousity got the best of me and I started to look up some guides on ancient and foreign languages...I got nothing. Again thinking nothing of it, I went back to my regular day. 4 hours of classes followed by 9 hours of graveyard work.
While not fun it paid the bills while I was in school.
I remember it really clearly. It was September 14. There was the blood moon the night prior. It wasnt my 'turn' though.
I awoke to my place barricaded. All the windows barred from all light, the doors had wooden boards across it, and dressers in front of them. On one wall not by any windows was all the individual scraps of paper. Flipped upside down. The first piece of paper was the last letter of the last word. All in a weird curved font.
"The Bloodmoon awakens them. They are hungry. I will deal with it tomorrow, stay alive until then."
I looked down at the ground under the note and saw what looked like a body...Wait. No. That's My Body!
I saw a crumpled up note in my hand. I took it slowly. In my own writing it said.
"I failed again, this time the otherworldly being actually took over my body. Seems humanity is screwed this time."
In my ear I heard Ra say
"Last Chance. Make. It. Count. Future Walker."
That's great...but I had no idea what the hell that meant....
What happened after this is a different story all together. Just no that I survived...sort of...I think.............Maybe??? | 2019-10-14T21:10:50 | 2019-10-14T21:10:09 | 77 | 17 |
[WP] You are an NPC. One day, you see the player character do some weird steps and duplicate his items. You decide to try it for yourself.
Have fun!
Edit: Huh. I guess I just discovered a karma duplication glitch. | It was a lovely day in the streets of Galarya, as usual I sat on my forge awaiting for these strange yet captivating heroes to buy me some good stuff. Swords, hammers, iron arrows, mallets, soot? You name it, I got it. Damn, I was also known as the fastest mender in all Trynalia and these shiny, rich people knew it. My business was burgeoning like hydrangeas in spring.
One fellow caught my attention, he came to town wearing a tattered cloak tightened at the waist by a shaggy cord. Galarya was known for being the most expensive city of them all, and excuse my thoughts but he didn't fit in here.
Well... he proved me wrong, for the moment my prejudices were drawing a disdainful smile, he fumbled into his left pocket and from it a golden jewel, bright as two suns came, throwing my jaw onto the ground.
A firwelan, a jewel so rare it was believed only two of them existed. With jealousy gnawing my insides I stared at that sly smile of Baligar, a hateful goblin who only had eyes for magical and twinkleful things as he chatted with the humble-looking adventurer.
"Relics, I have them, they shine with golden wisps of ancient magic, ready to trade?" Baligar said, that was his usual hook.
But the stranger didn't say anything, he walked off towards Irylania, the city's tailor. She played with her ginger locks, rolling them into her fingers as the golden light of the firwelan grew closer to her.
"Hey, come inside take your clothes off and let me do the work," Irylania said, like Baligar that was her hook.
The stranger nodded and walked inside with her, but the moment his bare feet touched the wood of her floor, he walked out and fumbled once again into his pocket.
Another firwelan.
What in Galanor's iron was happening? An azure, cylindrical beam descended from the sky over the stranger... and he was gone.
Did Irylania hide something? But if she did, why did he go with Baligar first? And why did he never spoke a word? I had to know. My bottom left the forge and I unsheathed Tyrania, my most valuable sword, said to be able to cut through flesh and bone even before it touched them. I breathed deeply and prepared to be considered the city's fool, I imitated every step the stranger had taken.
"Relics, I have them, they shine with golden wisps of ancient magic, ready to trade?" Baligar said and I walked away, towards Irylania.
"Hey, come inside take your clothes off and let me do the work," Irylania said and I nodded.
The very moment my feet stepped into her tailoring I walked out.
And then, I felt a gust of wind travelling inside my clothes and into my pocket. It seemed as if it was taking the shape of something large and sharp.
Too sharp.
The wind was gone, and blood dripped from the back of my leg onto the floor. Trembling, I fumbled into my pocket to find what felt like a too familiar of a hilt. Tyrania lay on my left hand, and now, clasped into my right fist and piercing my leg, another Tyrania rested.
I shouldn't have of unsheathed it.
---------------------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall | There was, at first, no reason to pay any special attention to the erratic movements of the young trainer. After all, I had seen that pattern many before - they always seem to end up here, on the island, at some point in their journeys.
I wasn't sure why or when exactly I noticed the particularly strange pattern of this specific trainer. He would fly in on a grand yellow bird, landing right in front of the pokecenter, walk to the edge of the sea bounding our island, and climb atop a lapras. Here is where the mystery began. Whereas most trainers might then surf towards the nearby islands searching for the rumours of a icy bird, this trainer would stay right on the edge, skirting the boundary of earth and water as he pushed his lapras up and down that narrow corridor.
After a while, he would stop, as if seeing something just below the surface of the water, sometimes he would direct attacks towards it, sometimes he just leaves, always wearing that inscrutable, unchanging expression. I did not know what he saw, but when he came ashore again, his bag bulged with gold. He would fly off again, then back, then go into the water once more, and again his bag would fill with rare candies, purple pokeballs, and once, more bikes than should have been possible to carry.
One day, I could hold back my curiosity any longer. Perhaps I could replicate his success - my mother in saffron was always complaining about one thing or another. A stash of gold could go a long way in making her more comfortable.
So it was that one day, when the trainer left before looking down into the water, that I walked to the shore. I peered down. And saw nothing. I walked up and down the edge, but I could make out no miracle. This had to be a mistake, I thought, it must only be visible from on top of the water.
But I had no pokemon to bear me along. Heedless, I climbed down into the water myself, convinced that that wealth and happiness was finally within reach.
Up and down I swam that span, fueled by dreams. Suddenly, I saw a light right below the surface. I raced to it, diving to reach for the amorphous blob which seemed at once so familiar and so foreign.
I touch it.
Pain.
I sink.
I can feel my body contorting into strange shapes, my bones breaking and organs bursting.
Darkness.
I am drawn to a new warmth above. I arise to meet it. I stop just before the surface. I can not leave the water. I see a face. It is the trainer. He is so close to the surface. So very close. I can see his eyes, and immediately wish I could not. A monster is reflected by his expressionless visage.
I know it is I.
He summons his majestic bird and points to me.
I know what is coming.
I must run, but I have no legs.
I must scream, but I have no mouth. | 2018-01-03T09:18:42 | 2018-01-03T09:13:33 | 117 | 81 |
[WP] When you gain a superpower it is a reflection of your inner self, good people tend to get typical 'good' powers such as flight while bad people get 'bad' powers such as mind control. Oddly enough the top superhero and supervillain each have powers that seemingly do not suit them at all | If someone told an outsider to this world who our greatest champion and nemesis was, and what their powers were, they'd understandably be confused. After all, most archetypes depict heroes as saviours, wielding weapons of light and flying after villains, who used shadows to mask themselves and their wicked crimes. It still holds true in our world, of course. Amongst those who donned a cape and called themselves heroes, powers such as flying coupled with invulnerability was shockingly abundant, while those who called themselves villains were often capable of twisting even the most vigilant minds and shrouding themselves in darkness.
Yet amongst our paragons, those who stand out amongst heroes and villains alike, our very greatest seems to have been misplaced. How could Janus, capable of twisting minds with a simple thought and turning invisible, be a hero, whilst Harbringer, capable of flying faster than most speedsters and forming light into weaponisable constructs, be a villain? Obviously something had gone wrong, and people on both sides were curious as to why they had switched. Yet when they told the truth, everyone who listened was stunned.
Their powers didn't dictate what actions they took once they received them. Just because Janus was someone who held retribution and power in a higher priority than cooperation and fairness when she received her powers didn't mean she allowed them to shape her path. Harbringer was once an upstanding member of his community, yet moral degradation is shockingly easy once you see the horrors man can unleash upon each other.
Janus and Harbringer knew that they were different people compared to how they were long ago, yet they accepted that their previous choices had shaped themselves into something greater. Sometimes it was easy for them to look backwards and wonder if they were something greater, more meaningful, before, but as with the world they lived in, they had to live with their choices. And if that meant standing out amongst heroes and villains, so be it. | Sorry if formatting is weird, on mobile. A little peek at those not famous in a world like that!
Humming brightly in the morning sun, she picked a seed out of her apron pocket, identified it and closed her hands around it. Her eyes closed gently, and the humming got a little louder. She opened her eyes and hands, smiling at the small sprout beaming up at her. Placing it snugly into the fresh dirt, she shuffled over a few inches, and pulled another seed out of her apron.
Elaine had lived in her small countryside cabin ever since her powers had developed. She left her abusive husband, took the girls with her and bought the cabin in cash. The man selling it hadn’t asked any questions, and she hadn’t given any answers. Fields spread for acres behind it, but she started small, just to supply a small booth in the farmer’s market. She had no desire to be rich, or ruin the delicate economy of a small town farmer’s market with her powers. So much time spent wishing she could help her girls grow into the women they deserved to be, so long helping the kids at her high school get the help they so desperately needed, she hadn’t even noticed her powers manifest. The principal had come into her office one day, and commented on the astounding vitality of her plants.
Elaine thanked her,
“I just try my best.” | 2020-06-15T10:58:47 | 2020-06-15T10:13:33 | 54 | 21 |
[WP] Who is u/deleted? They've posted many places about many subjects, is it a bunch of different users, or is it a collective conscious? They're typically posting controversial things, but not always. What are they up to? | "Hello and welcome back to the podcast Internet Mysteries! Today's Internet mystery deals with the strange case of u/deleted on Reddit. A controversial user known for commenting on hundreds of thousands of subreddits, u/deleted has been around since the very beginnings of Reddit. And yet, no one seems to truly know who he or she really are. To get to the bottom of this mystery, I've invited a Reddit admin by the name of John Doe to join me on today's podcast! So, John, what can you tell us about the user, u/deleted? Are they male or female?"
"Uh...I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding. U/deleted isn't referring to a single male or female human, it's referring to people--"
"Oh, I see what you're saying. So what you mean is this is a secret organization of hermaphroditic otherkin all secretly using the same username?"
"...What? No, it's not even a real username. It's referring to people who have deleted themselves from Reddit-"
"*gasps* So, what you're really saying is that you're harvesting Reddit users' souls through the Terms of Service and merging them together into a singular hive mind?!"
"...Are you fucking high?" | It knows.
The words upon words, and the thoughts upon thoughts.
It knows?
It has changed the veiws of many, yet it's own mind is muddled.
It sits? It rests? is it someone or something? Is it a new contreversy?
The user?
Only known to reddit and it's users as r/deleted.
It post anytime and anywhere, but unwillingly it is truely trapped.
R/deleted is, was, and always will be, the monster. Reddit.
The three Fathers, Aaron Swartz, Alexis Ohanian and Steve Huffman, 16 years ago, Found it.
They created this website to order it.
It is an all knowing:
Roti Bread,
Egg
Dills,
Duck,
Ice-burg Lettace and a,
Tomato.
Or in otherwords it is a big o'l sandwich that knows | 2022-06-06T07:12:08 | 2022-06-06T06:37:22 | 557 | 15 |
[WP] 99.99% of humanity was assimilated into a hivemind 3 months ago. Surprisingly nothing really changed, and no one noticed. However that 00.01% is slowly putting the pieces together. | Larry can't quite recall when his life switched to auto-pilot. His memories swirl like freshly poured concrete, clumped around life events he couldn't even be sure he'd lived. Graduation. Job. Marriage. House. *Baby*? No, not yet, he was sure.
The rest was routine—the day-to-day that makes up the bulk of our existence—drifting along like a quotidian dream.
"Buenos dias, Larry!" a vendor hunched over her tamale stand calls out to him on his walk to work, steam rising into her grin.
As he fumbles through the return salutation, Larry can't help but scratch at the itch somewhere in the back of his dull mind. Something has changed.
It's always there. An unease. The feeling that everything is not quite the way it should be.
It claps in time with the strides of his feet on the city sidewalk.
"Hey, Larry! Good morning to ya!" the man who opens the door for him each morning smiles as he crosses the threshold.
It rings in his mind with each beep of the ascending elevator.
"Larry! Nothing like Monday morning in the office, huh?!" the receptionist cheers, raising her mug like some guerrilla coffee advertisement.
It moans in agony as the window washer drags his squeegee across the glass of Larry's 11th floor office.
"Yo, Larry!" the muffled greeting struggles through the spotless window, a man smiling in thin air.
It pulverizes his mind like a sledge-hammer as the second hand of the clock on his wall completes lap after lap, every tic echoing the same tone that just doesn't quite fit the structure of the universe.
"Buddy, can you figure it the fuck out? I've got a line out the door."
"*G'morn*..." Larry's tongue attempts reflexively. He's in the building's coffee shop, front of the line with no clue why or what to order.
"My man," the gentlemen behind the counter seems upset, which comes as a shock to Larry. "Either order something or get the hell out of line."
Larry smiles. It's the first genuine smile he can remember since buying his house, and he's not sure how it found it's way to his face. "You... You're not happy to see me?"
The barista sighs, "*Jesus Christ*," wiping his hands on his apron before calling out to his grinning supervisor, "I'm going on break!"
"You betcha!" the manager roars back with a thumbs-up.
The young man already has a cigarette in his mouth as he rounds the counter and heads for the door. Larry, still smiling, trips over himself as he follows the grumbling barista out.
They both bob and weave through suites and ties—one more gracefully than the other—as they snake through the lobby. Puffs of smoke rise up, and Larry coughs as he trails like the caboose of a locomotive.
"Excuse me, sir," a security guard says through his teeth. "There's no smoking in the building—"
"Fuck off." The disgruntled employee pushes his way outside.
"With pleasure!"
In the fresh air, the young man drags from his cigarette like a ventilator, fingers trying to coax a headache from his temples. When Larry finally finds his way outside, his own smile has given way to a bit of light-headedness. He eagerly approaches, examining his target's name tag.
"Excuse me, Mario. I—"
An extended hand silences Larry, and Mario doesn't need to open his eyes to recognize the dull voice from inside. "I'm on break. So that means I don't have to do all that customer service, nice-nice bullshit with you."
"Well, I wouldn't exactly call your version of customer service 'nice-nice'."
Mario opens his eyes and gives his stalker a look that says 'fuck off', but Larry continues in a hurry.
"But that's my point! You're not jovial or welcoming or friendly in any way!" he nods his head spastically, smiling again like he's expecting a round of applause.
"Ya? I work three fucking jobs. My mood reflects."
"No. No. No!" Larry cries, stretching his arms and twirling. "Don't you see what's going on?! Everyone is happy! Everyone is always so darn happy all the time! They smile and wave. They say good morning everyday like it really is a *good* morning. You were rude to a customer and nobody said anything. You cut out for a break in the middle of an afternoon rush, and your boss let you! Even the security guard was happy to have you swear at him!"
Mario laughs, mumbling through the smoke, "You're weird as fuck."
"You see!" Larry sighs like he's just been told the tumor on his testicle is benign. "You... You're unhappy. Like me!"
"Uh. You're not gonna invite me to some group therapy type shit are you? I don't like hugging more than one person at a time."
Larry claps both hands on his new friend's shoulders, fighting back a cough as he peers into Mario's eyes through a veil of smoke. "There's something going on, something sinister, and the two saddest men in the city are going to find out what it is."
____
**/r/BeagleTales**
**If you enjoyed this, keep an eye on my sub. Releasing serials bit by bit doesn’t work well for me, so I’ll just write a full story and post it all at once. Expect it in the coming weeks.** | **Diary of a Singlemind - Day 93**
Hey. I've changed the name of my diary because I think I've figured it out. It's hard to explain, and I'm not sure who I can even explain it to, but I need to say something somewhere, so that's here. I started this diary 93 days ago, back when I noticed the shift. I'm not sure why I felt like this was the thing to do, but it felt right even though the world felt wrong.
It's strange to think that things suddenly working better would be the sign that something has gone wrong. Maybe I'm the one who needs the help, not Them. I've already written about a lot of the changes so I won't spend a bunch of time recapping it here. I'll just hit the highlights.
First and foremost: Everything is going great. Not with me, but with everyone else. There's no war. I haven't seen a homeless person in months, not even a panhandler. Everyone just seems to care a lot more about everyone else.
It freaks me the fuck out.
The only time when things seem to be an issue is when I'm involved. It's like I suddenly lost the instruction manual for society. Polite norms of behavior are now requirements. Minor infractions get major reactions now.
If you break a rule, it's almost like the world stops around you and you get the sense that everyone is watching and they're very interested why you're not getting with the program. Even if it was an innocuous mistake or a misunderstanding.
There aren't misunderstandings any more. Not among Them. They're with the program. I'm not. That's the problem. Sticking out.
I'll give an example from earlier today. I was shopping in the market, something I try to avoid doing because there is always so many of Them there, but I need to eat, right? I'm walking down the aisle putting stuff in my cart when I turn a corner and run into someone else's basket.
The entire place stopped. It was like when someone scratches the record on those old timey players.
Everyone was staring at me. Not at the other person, but at me. They didn't say anything, but their faces all had the same expression. Like they couldn't understand how such a thing would happen and why I would ever do such a thing.
I held up my hands and said, "Entirely my fault, I'm sorry."
Then they stopped looking at me and life sort of just restarted. I finished all of my shopping and headed for the exit. As I was leaving, everyone turned and watched me go. Nothing said. Blank expressions.
It's getting more severe. There's enough dots to start connecting now.
Back in the beginning, 93 ago, it wasn't like this. It was more that people just treated each other differently. Like their goals were shared ones rather than their own. I don't think I'm describing it well. It's hard to. Picture it like this, one day, everyone stops for that panhandler and give them a dollar. Every single person.
Except me. I walk by.
No one cares that I walk by. I just happen to be the only one who does.
A few weeks later, same thing. Everyone gives a dollar. I walk by.
Everyone sort of looks at me as I walk by, but nothing else.
A few weeks later, there is no panhandler.
A few weeks after that, there no bad news. At least none that we make for ourselves.
A few weeks after that, behaviors start to become more...regimented? Like everyone is beginning to march to the same drummer. It's not longer acts of altruism like giving the needy a buck. It's everything.
People always use their turn signal and never cut anyone off. Everyone opens a door for one another if it is more efficient than letting it close between them.
Everyone says "Hello" and "Good Day."
And I'm still living, but I'm starting to stand out. And people are starting to notice me standing out, but they aren't doing anything about it.
And a few weeks after that and we're at where we are now.
I get home from the market, I hustle into my house. I put things away and happen to glance outside. There are four people standing outside, standing next to each other. They're just standing there. Not talking. Not interacting. Just there. I haven't seen them before, at least I don't think I have. But it's been three hours.
So I'm here writing in this diary, looking up outside and waiting for them to go. I need to find someone who understands what's going on. I need to find someone who doesn't fit in, same as me.
I need to find someone who doesn't use a turn signal or who farts in public or who doesn't say bless you when I sneeze. There has to be someone else like me. I can't be alone. I can't be the only one who doesn't fit in.
I'm going to make a break for it tonight. Wish me luck. I'll update you tomorrow.
**Platypus OUT.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | 2021-01-03T16:12:46 | 2021-01-03T14:39:47 | 2,016 | 309 |
[WP] Rumor has it that Canadian geese store all of Canada's hatred and anger. Making Canadians the "nice country". Today the last Canadian goose has died. | It was more of a wheeze than a honk that signalled not only the death of the last remaining Canadian goose, but, and this was unbeknownst to all at the time, the last thread connecting Canadian politeness to the mortal realm.
As the veterinarian watched the goose lay down its head slowly, he could’ve sworn he heard a blood curdling scream in the distance. It wasn’t the safest of Vancouver suburbs that his practice was situated in so he assumed it was either teens playing around or perhaps a tv from the apartment next door. Either way, he knew it was likely going to be followed by a polite apology to those the scream had unsettled.
Unknown to him, and the unsuspecting world around him, that was an apology that would never come. In fact, not a single synonym or extrapolation verging on an apology would ever leave the lips of a Canadian again.
Admittedly it was never known that there was any semblance of linkage between the population of Canadian Geese and the underlying politeness of Canadians. However, when the last goose died, it became all too real and all too known that such was the case. It was like something out of a low-budget zombie uprising really; swarms of Canadians spilling over the border into the United States, refusing to follow proper protocol and oblige any form of paperwork, fuelled by nothing more than syrup, hockey bloodlust and a repressed anger fettered for over two hundred years.
Across the world reports of Canadian expats refusing to apologise, rudely pushing into queues ahead of their turn and laughing at others’ misfortune took over the news channels and websites.
They hadn’t completely lost their humanity, but they had lost the last shred of what separates them from their polar opposites. Without politeness, without restraint, that final honk had turned them into ... Americans.
••••••
Trust me, my writing is way better than how I’m currently asking you to check out my other writing prompt replies at r/VerboseBuffalo
Read and (hopefully) enjoy, always open for feedback! | 25 January 2054
If a non-Canadian is reading this journal found on my dead body: Fuck you. UN troops are currently hunting all guerillas in the forest, and I might be found at any time. I'm writing this to preserve my legacy. I was born in Ontario, Canada in the year 2030, four years before Canadian geese went extinct due to a major epidemic amongst them. My first memories consist of saluting to our black and white flag and shouting "Hail Order-State Canada!" At 18 years old, I've joined the Canadian Ultranational Socialist Party Youth Wing. As a lower party member, a part of our plans have been shared with me. We were going to nuke the entire world, period. Why? Because we hated everyone. Everyone, including ourselves. To whoever is reading this: I hate you too. We were and are so full of hatred and anger, but we were not irrational. We had to cooperate until we achieved our goals.
It was going well until we tested our first nuclear weapon... The United States government had detected it and the CIA's unbelievable reports about our plans turned out to be true. A global coalition formed against us and invaded our nation. The war was brutal and every Canadian citizen that happened to be on the way had to be killed. Today, there are less than a million of us left. I fled to the woods after Fall of Toronto with fellow party members and we're continuing our struggle through guerilla warfare here. Even if only one Canadian remains, the world will burn. I will not be taken alive by the Coalition troops.
Goodbye, Journal | 2019-12-14T18:22:22 | 2019-12-14T13:40:50 | 74 | 31 |
[WP] Aliens try to invade earth but they can't bring themselves to do it because humans are too cute to them | Arganax flicked his antenna in irritation as he glanced around the conference room. The air was heavy as each multifaceted eyes twitched away from his stare.
"So," he clicked. "The decision to retreat was universal."
A brief buzzing filled the room as the augmented battle armor they all wore activated under the twitching of vestigial wing muscles.
Arganax growled, a low rumbling sound that echoed through the silent room.
"Sir... High Warmaster..." began Taraks one of the younger generals. "You have to understand, we tried. Disabled there satilites, even bombed a few cities but... The men sir... it was taking its toll."
Arganax regarded him silently.
"Troops were vomiting in their formations. Most of our medical service personnel broke rank immediately to say nothing of the reactions of the Queens."
"Do you know who we are?"
"Sir?"
"We are the second most feared race in the known galaxy, we have defeated more than four hundred worlds, turning them into brood-chambers for the next generation of our people. We defeated the Sarax, the night children and the upstart gods. I was told this was a level 2 technology world, barely above nuclear capability.
WHAT WENT WRONG!"
Taraks shivered before him, "they look like larve sir. More appealing even, like those little soft bodied cartoons we used to watch when we were young."
Chattering and warm looks of agreement went amongst the generals. "One of their countries leaders even looked like TurraTurra."
Artarak looked on astonished.
"Seriously sir you have no idea. They are all like funny little infants. And once you think you're ready for how appealing they look, you see something better. You haven't lived until you've seen something that looks like your child blown up into a pudgy ball, or clutching and playing with a living moss tuft; you know, like we all did back in the hives."
"Indeed," interrupted Neelza, usually famed for his use of bioweapons. "They even have miniature larva of their own, like ours, but even smaller. It's truly... Truly beautiful sir."
"Yes sir. They must be protected." Another of the generals chimed in.
"I agree. We all do. That's why we returned to the fleet sir. To convince you."
Artarak was dumbfounded... and strange for himself, curious. Just what must creatures that adorable be like. He'd yet to review any of the data that had been brought over to his ships, wishing to interrogate his failed generals first. He tapped a claw on the table.
"This species," he finally said. "Where is it located?"
-----
My first try at one of these. Hope you enjoy. | "He's adorable!" the large, green abomination said, its hands ruffling the jet black hair of the household pet. The pet growled, showing well polished, white teeth. The alien chuckled, imitating the growl to the best of its ability. "You're so freaking cute when you do that!" it said, its eyes filled with affection and love. The pet's eyes held only resentment, but anger was a feeling aliens took as normal for their pets. In fact, it was told in their handbooks that humans' anger was actually a show of love towards their masters, so the alien was naturally delighted at the reaction.
"Come here! We need to get a picture!" the green monster callrd for its family, the adorable human cuddled up in its arms. It was so tiny, so cute...the alien couldn't help but coo at it. Other aliens poured down from the floor above, the entire family grouped together to witness the spectacle. "It's got a tiny...electronic in its hand?" one queried, looking at the new toy bought for their tiny pet. "Special edition 'smartphone', as they call it. Little guy seems to love it," the voice of the family's patriach was softened and sweetened from its usual stern tones. The human eagerly pounced on the device, interacted with it for a few seconds, and let out a howl of disappointment and despair.
"Did you...just hear that! OMG that was amazing!!" squealed the youngest of them all, a female almost at the age of 10. Photographic devices were already snapping away at light speed whilst the human looked, confused at first and scared afterwards, evidenced by its attempt to hide its facial features. It was to no avail, its image published and circulated everywhere. The aliens shrugged, smiling. What use was there to take over their planet when they could just own them? Land could come after adoration and cuteness. Definitely after.
On the richly carpeted floor, the human sighed once again, the blinding lights scarring his vision. "Maybe I shouldn't have treated my dog like this," he said to himself, his thoughts nostalgic as he reminisced his own, happy childhood.
"Maybe." | 2017-08-20T08:54:15 | 2017-08-20T08:02:57 | 316 | 235 |
[WP] Life on Earth evolved within an “FTL Dead Zone” a region of space where all known forms of FTL travel were deemed physically impossible. As such, it was quite a shock when an unknown species suddenly appeared from the Dead Zone one day calling themselves “Humanity” Having done the impossible... | Made from mobile sorry for typos! And in 15 minutes for break.
The ship shook as metal was retched from metal. The ships super structure groaned from the pressure.
Colonel Xanzu stared out of the ships bridge in dismay. They where losing. The Galactic Federation was going to fall. The Cartheren empire was winning, just like they said they would. The entire galaxy was made up of so many different governments, different kinds of life, different cultures. They would all come together to form the Galactic Federation. Oddly enough they had all achieved space travel around the same time, all except one. The Cartherens had a small cluster of solar systems which they claimed as their own. Their technology so far advanced that none dared bother them, and in turn they never bothered any one, they never bothered to even leave their systems or interact with any anyone but themselves.
It was obvious that their empire used to spawn the entire galaxy. Remembers of their structures could be found on many distant worlds. Societal and cultural stagnation eventually causes the collapse of their empire...but it would become evident it wasn’t the first time. They had repeated this process many times. Conquer the galaxy, rule for several thousand years until it collapsed, then wait and do it again.
Enough time had passed that the technology of the galaxy had advanced. The Catherens could be fought. But it was hard, where a soldier of the federation would die from one shot a Catherens would take three. So the Federation sent out cry’s for help into the black, far outside of known space, in all directions, hoping to hear anything, anything at all. Silence.
The ship shook again, its bay doors blasted open.
“Colonel, boarding party’s have landed I. The hanger bay!”
Grimacing the Colonel barked commands while reading his plasma rifle. They would not take his ship, not while he drew breathe.
“Sir unknown fighter on director course for the hangar bay!”
“Then gun it down! We have enough issues as it is!”
“No good sir it’s to quick, it made it inside!”
“Then we will fill it with holes just like the rest of boarders!”
The bridge shook as an internal explosion rocked its halls.
“Catheren boarding party nearing the bridge sir.”
The Colonel grabbed two more pistols with his other two hands and aimed both them and his plasma rifle at the door. “Get your guns, defensive stations! Get ready!”
Shouting and scuffling could be heard from the other side of the door. Then the door began to be highlighted by a bright moment red.
“Their cutting through get ready!”
The cutting stopped, and was over taken by more shouting, then more gunfire, then the entire door was blown open.
A Cartheren came hurdeling into the room, landing in an unceremonious heap. It tried to pick itself up off the ground, but was stopped as a glowing blue axe flew from the door way and I’m ended itself in its back. It cried out before slumping back to the ground
The thrower walked into the room. Bipedal and armored head to toe.
“You the Galactic Federation?” The odd creature spoke in Xanzus language to the entire room.
The Colonel slightly lowered his guns. “We are the Brehian Conglomerate are of the Federation yes.”
“Took a while to find you all.” The figure spoke in some other language, presumably into the some communicator in its helmet.
It walked to the window. “Come check this out, always my favorite part.”
The Colonel cautiously approached and looked to where the new being was looking.
A single small ship warped in, then another, and another. But the one after was bigger, then three at a time. In a matter of seconds an entire armada dropped out of Slipspace. Finally a it appeared. It could only be described as a space castle. An impossibly large disk with towering up high and being built out of the bottom as well. A veritable citadel.
The Colonel stared slack jawed as the armada engaged. “Where do did you all come from?”
“We deciphered the star maps from your messages, sector DZ-638 I believe.”
“That’s...that’s not possible any sector in DZ can’t be traveled to or out of, it’s a dead zone where physics don’t flow properly. FTL isn’t possible!”
“Idono what FTL, but we Humans typically don’t like being told we can’t do something, makes us want to prove you wrong you see. Doesn’t matter if that’s another person or the whole damn universe. We travel by SAE or sister atom effect.
The human spun on his heel and started for the door. He ripped his hard light axe from the now dead Cartheren and gave a mirthful laugh.
“ You know this should be fun, been a good long while since we have fought anything other than ourselves. This is gonna be fun.” | Mark sat in his apartment, resting on a reclined, sleek, black and red leather chair as he contemplated what was revealed to Humanity in the past hour. He had trouble making sense out of it as much as a government official did. That is to say that no one comprehended what was happening. Conspiracy theorists were flooding Twitter, Snapchat, Facebook, Instagram, and other sorts of social media with speculations made using bastardized pseudo-science. Although he didn't consider himself amidst their ranks, Mark was prone to browsing their maniacal conceptions with mild belief, using it to escape reality and substitute it for his own. It was for these reasons that he found himself, ironically, unfazed by this discovery, because he already dreamt of Humanity doing what it did best, beating immense odds, but what had perturbed him was those who had beat the odds and appeared on Earth's doorstep: Humans.
He rubbed his temples, grimacing as he thought harder on what was transpiring. *They're Humans,* he reminded himself. But that couldn't be, they didn't look anything like Humans. The same image reappeared in his mind with every tantalizing thought he tried to understand. These Humans, the ones that managed to make science break upon itself, didn't look humanoid, but more amalgamated with reptilian, avian, and mammalian features. They looked like a DNA splicing project gone wrong, like in those 1960s horror movies where the villains were experiments that escaped out of their cells in blacksites. Or maybe a more apt description would be describing them as a fey, Lovecraftian entities, derived from H.P Lovecraft's fiction. Mark prayed to God the latter was not the case, and was content in, until proven otherwise, that they were just amalgamations, without any powers or bizarre capabilities like comics or young adult fiction novellas that would have him believe.
The pensive teenager fell out of his chair, bruising his forehead while his phone pulsated with activity. He crawled over to the kitchen island, accepting the call. It was Damien, his best-friend.
"Mark, mark! Are you seeing this!?" Damien shouted into his phone, voice exasperated and swollen with disbelief.
"Yeah, yeah I saw it. It's crazy, right?" Mark hid his existential dread briefly, calmly replying.
"How can you be calm in a time like this? They're..they're aliens claiming to be Humanity from the future! How can those -things- be us?" He emphasized his disdain with exaggerated gestures, making his face flustered as others stared at him suspiciously during his daily jog.
"Why aren't you calm?" Mark deflected, tone choked with coldness. A technique he developed rather quickly whenever he became Damien's best friend.
"I'm a normal Human being, that's why!" Damien shouted his reply, receiving more narrowed eyes and side glances as he jogged through Tokyo.
Mark didn't answer.
"..Mark? Did you hang up?" Damien stopped jogging.
"No, I'm still here. I'm just..get here quick!" Mark answered. He hung up, pacing back and forth. He took deep breaths, trying to compose himself before Damien got to their apartment. He had to be strong, he always was strong for both of them, but this time, it was different.
Forty-five minutes later, Damien arrived home. "Mark!" He called.
"Lock the door and close the shutters," Mark huffed.
"What's happening?" Damien questioned why he needed to do those two things, but did them regardless.
"Earth is being invaded," Mark answered. "By those Humans. They released another announcement to all of Humanity, -our- Humanity, saying that they'll be reclaiming our bodies."
"..Oh my god," Damien murmured. "What are we going to do? What did the Prime Minister tell us to do?"
"The military is being deployed, and everyone is being evacuated into bunkers." Mark sharpened a steak knife on a honing rod dramatically. "We're going to stay put, because if we don't, then those aliens are going to kill us then take our bodies."
"But the..." Damien's voice faltered as he understood Mark's reasoning.
Both of them began fortifying their apartment, stacking chairs on top and against each other against their door. A bookshelf was placed in front of their patio, allowing a minimal amount of light to seep in through cracks. Neither of them knew what to do after they renovated, but just sit there, play video games and try not to think of their new reality: a war of Humanities. | 2021-01-09T14:29:14 | 2021-01-09T12:46:13 | 64 | 16 |
[WP] You join the military, you are placed in the gardeners program. You garden in exotic places where the military has done operations, each time they give special glasses and forbid spraying others. One day your glasses fall off and you see you are actually burning corpses with a flamethrower. | >Unit 137
>PO box REDACTED
> REDACTED
> Syria
> June 20, 2017
Mrs. Vivien Ciel
1 Driveling Lane
Grandbury, Texas, 67304
It is our eternal regret to inform you of the departure of your beloved child, ROBERT CIEL, SPECIALIST (SP4). All of us here in SYRIA join together in offering our deepest condolences for your loss.
YOUR BOY~~/GIRL~~ was one of the best GARDENERS in our unit, the EXPERIMENTAL SUPPORT BATTALION. We can all attest to the excellent work he did and the many lives he saved with his GARDENING. Without him, our job here in SYRIA will be that much harder.
YOUR BOY~~/GIRL~~ has always possessed strong MORALS. Even as he was AMBUSHED, he never gave up on his MORALS, never gave up fighting to defend his countrymen back home from the OPIUM FARMERS.
Your child's last words were REMEMBER AMERICA. Unfortunately, the enemy then EXECUTED HIM~~/HER~~.
Our deepest sympathies lie with you in these troubled times. If it helps you grieve, write a letter to your congressman or woman asking for him or her to support our soldiers. With your help, YOUR BOY~~/GIRL~~'s sacrifice will not be in vain.
>Dietrich Frost
>Lieutenant Colonel
>Commander of the Experimental Support Battalion | "Are you sure you want to do this?"
Lieutenant Aldo Raine was my CO, everything in the company was his territory.
"Sir, I have the upmost respect for you, this battalion, and our great country. It's just that I don't feel comfortable devoting my life to a military that broke my one golden rule. Never deceive me."
"Well I suppose I can't blame you, Specialist. But this ends here. I'm afraid I have to report you to the MP's."
"They'll kill both of us, you do know that?"
"I do. But I swore an oath, Specialist Donnowitz, and I intend to keep it."
"I respect your sense of justice, sir, but with all due respect you haven't worn the glasses. Here, tell me how important your oath is after wearing these."
Donnowitz tossed his pair of specialized eye pro issued to him by the military to a reluctant Aldo Raine.
"...."
"Understand now?"
Lieutenant Aldo Raine could not hear the specialist. The only thing he could focus on was his former deceased brother in arms, Private Hans Landa, standing before him, mocking him with his clenched teeth.
| 2017-06-20T01:06:40 | 2017-06-20T00:31:30 | 395 | 17 |
[WP] Every time there is a thunderstorm your father ushers you inside and waits on the porch with his gun, your mother says he's just gone a bit crazy after the war, but you've seen what lurks in the clouds too. | **WHEN THE MAN COMES AROUND**
Dad looked up from his paper when he heard the first roll of thunder in the distance. Still as a statue, he waited for another crack from the skies. And when it finally came, he stood quickly and looked to his daughters at the kitchen table.
“Girls, there’s an old saying in our family…”
“Dad, we know!” the eldest, Elena said. “When thunder claps, and the clouds reign, so shall the beasts rise again.”
Dad grabbed a box of shells from above the fridge. “Girls, I want you down in the basement. Go on now.”
They rolled their eyes but trudged towards the cellar door in the hallway. Over the years, throughout the spring, Dad ran the girls to the basement anytime it rained. He’d usher them to the cellar, shushing over their protests, and assuring them it had to be this way.
In the distance, a thunderclap exploded over the plain. Dad’s gaze shot towards the window, pointed west. “Shit.”
The girls knew instantly this time was different. They weren’t going to play with their stuffies in their basement fort. Dad’s breathing sped up. “Girls. Now.”
He pushed them towards the cellar stairs, looking back over his shoulder out the front window. The skies darkened and the thunder clapped again, closer this time. Mary, 6 years old and the younger sister, pushed ahead of Elena and ran downstairs to find and hug Gerald the Stuffed Bear.
“Elena, wait,” Dad said. Elena turned and felt her dad press a worn paper into her hand. “No matter what happens, do not let them get this. Do you hear me? Do not let them get her.”
Elena squinted at her father in confusion. Their thunder drills over the years were games, and sure this one felt different. But who were they? What was he talking about?
Out front, lightening struck a telephone pole and that’s when she saw him: A man robed in black tatters upon a white horse, a bow in his right hand and a crown upon his head. “Oh my god, DAD!”
“GO!” Dad said. He shoved Elena to the cellar stairs as the thunder exploded above their heads, knocking pictures off the walls.
Dad shoved an end table in front of the cellar door, pumped his shotgun, and marched to the porch.
————-
I just set up a sub where you can check out more of my stuff. Open to all feedback at r/TopKatWrites. | Father grumbled as he sat heavily in the porch chair. His little eyes swivelled in his head, like currants, glinting slightly at the mottled light. I slipped away from mother's gaze and skipped out of the window to whisper furtively:
"The aliens are back?"
Father spat a glob of chewing tobacco. It hit the cat, who ran away screeching.
"Yup," he breathed. "Big ones. I can feel it in my bones."
Before I knew it the sky had turned black and a large saucer plunged out from the heavy clouds. It burped out its hideous message.
CHICKEN DINNER CHICKEN DINNER EARTH DELICACY! SURRENDER YOUR CHICKENS!
"Gorram aliens!" roared father, observing them hover over the chicken coop, open the saucer's bottom hatch, and wheel out the chicken stealing rope.
"Get the hell off my farm!"
NO! WE DESIRE FRIED CHICKEN! ALL CHICKENS ARE BELONG TO US!
A little green space man, wearing something with the appearance of a goldfish bowl over his head, rapelled down the chicken abduction rope. He chittered eagerly as he tied some helpless poultry to it.
"That's it! I've had it with you little green bastards!"
Father levelled the gun and a thunderous noise rang out over the farm. A large lead slug pyoinged off of the alien's head-helmet.
CRAP! called out the alien voice. PANIC! PANIC! PANIC!
The saucer wobbled uncertainly as a squeaking noise heralded the reeling-in of the abduction rope. Then, with a little song like "da di dee doo dah" (Alien for "you spoiled my dinner") it span around, scrabbled uncertainly for strange grip on the air, then spat itself up and out of sight.
That was the last I ever saw of the aliens. And our chickens. I suppose, though, we're lucky to say they were only paltry losses. | 2020-05-04T08:16:45 | 2020-05-04T07:50:59 | 31 | 14 |
[WP] You can go to any fictional universe you want, but aren't allowed to help progress the main plot. | I walked into Whiterun, just like an everyday adventurer. The smells, the cool air, everything was just as it should be. I know the rules, but I'm not sure of the time, did the dragonborn come yet? Is the battle over? I go to the market to sell my pelts, and to chop wood for some extra money.
I get a room for the night but I still go out for ingredients, I buy fresh tomatoes, bread, meat, cheese, the cabbage needs to be cooked a bit before it can work the way I want. I use the cooking fire as everyone gatherers around me in astonishment.
"Where, did you find something like this?!"
On of the patrons asks. I smirk a bit as I begin cutting up the potatoes.
"Could this be the legendary Gourmet!?!" another askes as I drop the cut potatoes into the oil from the food.
I was told I can't interfere with the storyline, but selling burgers and fries should pay for itself, and I'll be able to buy my own place soon enough. But I hear the call of adventure, and I'll need items and armor if I want to leave whiterun and get somewhere more permanent. | The Stargate activated, and my team went through. SG17s mission was follow on research after a site has been deemed safe, usually after Dr. Jackson had made some new discovery about the Alterans. Others on my team complained that we never saw action. I couldnt tell the truth. I'm not aloud to "spoil the plot". I do my research, I provide background knowledge to how ancient tech works and I contribute to the science that informs Carters brilliant plans. Today though is my toughest day. I have to watch Jack and Teal'c repeat the same day over and over again. I could give them the solution to their problem, but the moment I do is the moment i get kicked out of this universe. Oh well watching Teal'c get smacked in the face every reset is still funny. | 2018-06-16T14:44:13 | 2018-06-16T11:36:21 | 61 | 37 |
[WP] You've died and have woken up in a bright area; there is a man standing before you in white robes. He asks "How was Heaven?" | My brain churned, trying to process this newfound information. "What, you mean life on earth? *That* shit was heaven?" God was an asshole for greeting me with such nonchalance, as if I ought to have already known. Wasn't this a rhetorical question, anyway? Shouldn't he have already known my opinion? In which case, I was fucked, because I was currently thinking about how much Heaven had sucked, and not even fear of God's omniscience was going to block out these thoughts.
"Well, it used to be earth, but we rebranded." God shrugged. "Our initial structure was flawed: only three realms for an infinite spectrum of morality? It wasn't fair to group your everyman with your Mother Theresa."
"Actually, Mother Theresa was a monster—" I began.
"Look, who's setting the rules, you or me?" God raised a pointed eyebrow, daring me to contest him. "Drop this wishy-washy secular humanism; it's not going to work in Superheaven." He noticed my look of confusion and added, "The level above heaven. It's more or less the same, except you actually have to go to church now."
My brain retched as hundreds of sleepy Sunday memories passed through it. God's facial expression didn't change; either he couldn't read my mind or he'd evolved beyond the confines of human body language. It was starting to bother me: how dismissive and cold he was. "Are there no other choices? "Other religions?" He shook his head, frowning. "Hell?"
"Why would you want to go to Hell?"
*In hopes Satan is cooler than you*, I thought. "Change of scenery," I said.
"Well, Hell doesn't exist," God said, beckoning me forward through the clouds, "We rebranded that too. It's now called Minor Heaven, and you can go there, but it's objectively inferior to Heaven and the realms above it. Observe." He snapped his fingers and a small model of earth began to revolve in the air. Then half of it burst into flames.
"What do you mean, you rebranded Hell?" Wasn't Hell supposed to act as a deterrent from sinning? What was the point of grouping it under the Heaven umbrella?
"Well, some people had a problem with the existence of Hell under a supposedly all-merciful god." God sighed and rubbed his temples. "Not that I ever promised to be merciful, but you know how humans are: they'll misquote you and hold you to it." He stopped and stamped the floor, summoning a rickety set of stairs that led into the sky. As he led me up them, he continued, "So, to get them off my back, I acquired Hell from Lucifer, renamed it, and everything's now fine and dandy. It's not like humans can tell they're in Hell, anyway." He chuckled. "You and your inability to comprehend greater dimensions."
"That doesn't sound very kosher, if I'm being honest." I said. God ignored me and continued climbing; I thought to turn and run the other direction, but the stairs behind me had vanished. I sighed and trudged onward; the steps seemed to go on for miles, and the fatigue and all the whiteness began to disorient me. After a while, I could no longer tell what direction I was heading; all I could do was follow the stairs.
I finally set foot on the landing, where a glowing red doorway stood, framing the rippling image of an entire realm behind it. "Welcome to the next realm of Heaven," God said, nudging me through. He left briskly, slamming the door shut behind him, perhaps still irritated with all of my questions.
My past life's memories began to die as I stepped through the doorway. Before they had completely faded, I noticed, at least, that my surroundings seemed distinctly earthly: the trees, the grass, the sun; nothing seemed out of the ordinary, save for one alarming difference. Panic surged through me, but the moment passed, and I could no longer remember why everything was on fire. | "Ah, shit, we've got another one back."
One minute, I felt my arm being yanked, and the next I was lying on the harsh, unwelcoming steel floor of what appeared to be a surgical lab. Fluorescent lights assaulted my eyes, and I half-expected to be missing a few organs.
I heard a few footsteps against the floor, and glanced up to see the nicest pair of shoes I'd ever laid eyes on. Pure, spotless white, and -- I looked further up -- a perfect match with the white robes of a young gentleman, probably in his late twenties. He held a glass of red wine in his right hand and was flanked on both sides by two gruff construction workers in hard hats.
"So tell me, lad, how was Heaven?"
I coughed and tried to conjure images from the past several minutes. Wings, golden goblets, rainbows, impossibly large waterfalls, singing, wide open fields. Pretty much fit the bill.
"It was...something else," I said.
"Ha! Look at him, practically at a loss for words. How cute. The others have been far more ebullient upon their return." He took a sip of his wine. "So, would you like anything to eat before you go back?"
I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, go back?"
"Well, we can't simply abandon the project after another failure. Each day we make a little progress. You were up there for a good...fifteen minutes."
I watched him sip his red wine and felt a sudden urge to smash the glass over his face. "Where's my family?"
"Well-paid." He finished his wine and placed it on a silver tray held by one of the hard-hat men, then pointed to something behind me. "Why don't you choose a different portal? Whichever one looks most comfortable."
"I'm not going to get a taste of Heaven and then get whisked back to this shithole as soon as I'm getting used to it."
The robe-wearing man chuckled. "Of course you are. The beauty of it is...*I* won't. Try to be more specific with the details next time."
I lunged at him and grabbed him by the throat, maintaining my grip for several seconds before I was thrown to the ground by one of his apparent bodyguards. He wheezed for a few seconds, then whirled around and pinched my cheeks between his thumb and forefinger.
"Earth can get so terribly mundane, Walter. You ought to know. Working in that can-filling factory. A useless job for a human being far past his prime. I've given you a purpose. I'm giving you a glimpse of what lies beyond."
He tightened the pinch. "Money can buy you a lot of things. But it can't cure this...ennui. This feeling that you deserve better than the constraints of a single plane of existence."
I grimaced. "And that makes kidnapping OK."
He sneered, then let go of my cheeks. "A small price to pay for my liberation. And perhaps, if you're lucky, yours."
The hard-hat men dragged me backwards and shoved me into a steel bathtub-like container. I struggled for a while as they strapped me in.
"Administer the sedative," the white-robe man ordered. He sauntered over to my portal, his face obscured by the light above him.
"I will get to Heaven, Walter King. And I will send you there as many times as it takes until it becomes a one-way ticket."
He flipped a switch on the wall next to me, and I was flown to the skies above.
***
/r/GigaWrites | 2016-08-15T22:19:09 | 2016-08-15T21:20:07 | 87 | 24 |
[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. | 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. | I was powerless. I was disowned by my superhero parents. Everyday I suffered with the bullies giving me the worst wedgies in school.
The day the gift came really made me happy. I immediately folded people in half --- crushing their beloved spines. 70% of the people of the city are now dead.
"Who's useless now?" I said and continued giving wedgies without remorse. | 2017-06-12T07:39:18 | 2017-06-12T06:49:33 | 39 | 15 |
[WP] After dying, you found yourself staring at a large screen. "LOBBY. Current players: 7,383,275,800. Current game time: 1059040375.2 mins. Current spectarors: 21,458,374,931. Player rank: 2,648,535,901. Time until next game: 23695624.8 mins" | My vision was blurry but I was starting to get my consciousness back.
"Way to go kid, that rankings not bad for your first try!"
The man had an oddly familiar figure.
"What is this place?" I asked
"Take a look around and see for yourself!" He said as he picked me up from the ground. There was an endless number of people as far as I could see. The only thing that stood out among the sea of people was the giant mega-tron with a list of rankings and stats.
"I can't remember a thing," I told him.
"Don't worry, it's always like that at first," he said.
The more I starred at him, the more I felt I had known him my whole life. A strange looking man with slick comb-over and a ridiculous mustache.
There was a digital box that loomed over his head and the content in the box read "Player Ranking: 3"
"What does the ranking mean above your head?" I asked him.
"Oh this? It's because I only got 17,000,000. It's impossible to beat that Chinese Bastard!" He said.
I was slowly regaining my memories. It was only bits and pieces at a time but I wanted to remember the last memory before blacking out.
I remembered my mind was racing with anxiety. It was a busy day in town and I was walking around as if I had something important to do. My clothes felt heavy, as if I was wearing something more. It was heavy particularly on my chest and it seemed like my jacket was bulgier. I remembered closing my eyes and thinking...
"Times up! The boss wants to see you now." The man said as he directed me towards the elevator. "He'll be in his office located on the bottom floor."
As I was making my way towards the elevator, he stopped me grabbed me firmly by the shoulders.
"And make sure you don't mention that religious crap you were shouting before you came here, he's very sensitive about that kind of stuff."
| Current Players: 7,383,275,800
Server Uptime: 1059040375.2 mins
Spectators: 21,458,374,931
Player Rank: 2,648,535,901
Time Until Respawn: 23695624.8 mins
People are always afraid of death. The unknown. "What happens to me?" they ask. "Do we have a soul? Is there a hell? Are there angels? Will I see my parents again?"
If they only knew how mundane it really was.
This. This screen is all you get. Your entire existence becomes this one illuminated screen for you to stare at.
"Staring" is the wrong word even, because you aren't looking at anything. You have no eyes. It's simply... awareness. Awareness of the information. It's literally inside of you.
No hunger. No tiredness. No biological functions. So as the timer ticks down, continuously, and you just... wait.
There's nothing else to do, literally. As you wait, the shapes and sounds of the last life fade. You start to think things like, "Did I have a cat? Maybe it was a dog. What is that I am holding? A hammer or an axe? I know I had children... but how many?"
And by the time you respawn, you remember literally nothing. Not even this place.
Time Until Respawn: 23695623.9 mins
Welcome to the After Life.
| 2015-11-25T00:40:01 | 2015-11-25T00:00:43 | 73 | 27 |
[WP] You are a normal average person but you happen to have many supervillain friends. This is awkward when heroes keep trying to rescue you. | "Come citizen! We need to get you out of harms way!"
"Uhh, nah I'm...I'm good."
"You...what? This bomb is about to go off"
"Yeah I know, but Dr. Nefarious and I have plans to see a movie after making a secret escape, in a way, by keeping me here talking to you, you're keeping me in harms way. I could be watching Alien right now. So, here's my number if you wanna talk about this later, I'm just gonna go, before this thing detonates."
After I finished talking to NightSable I slipped into a hidden hatch in the floor which had a slide that lead to Dr. Nefarious' private theatre, and dropped into a seat next to him.
"Hey man you're late."
"Yeah sorry about that, Mr. do-good is a bit of a talker, man good guys are so lame. Oh sweet I didn't miss the chest bursting scene."
Just then I got a text from NightSable.
*So you're what, friends with Dr. Nefarious?*
*Is this NightSable? Hey man I'll text you back after the movie.*
"That your new friend?"
"The guy seemed really confused so I said I'd talk to him later. Felt kinda bad for him."
"You're pretty soft hearted for someone that hangs out with 'villains'."
"Oh shut up and watch the movie."
After the movie I texted the hero back.
*Hey, so go ahead ask your questions. I'm sure you have many.*
*Why are you friends with a villain?*
*Because I tried to hang out with the heroes but man, the whole "I need to sacrifice myself to save the city/planet/galaxy" schtick got old real fast. Villains are always coming up with new and inventive things, and they're not always new death machines. They let me pitch ideas and help out and stuff.*
*When you put it like that, they don't seem so bad.*
*Oh they're definitely bad people, I know that, I'm not dumb. They're just fun to hang out with.*
*Hmm. Maybe we should all do something some time.*
*That would completely ruin your reputation, but I definitely recommend branching out, there are more people in the world than just your super friends and people that need saving.* | "Once again, thanks for the tea." I said. "I still can't believe you got the entire island to yourself, PLUS the volcano."
"My Job has its perks" smiled Jessica "The previous owners donated it to me free of charge"
"Really?"
"Yeah,but...Rebecca, have you been listening to the news recently?" I nodded. She leaned in. "What do you think of this new *shadowcat* villain?"
"*Shadowcat*?" There were so many new villains these days."I'm not sure. I *think* she's hiding somewhere around this area? Why, are you worried or something?"
"Oh no, no, I was just curious if you knew anything about her. Anyways, it was a pleasure meeting you again after so long. May I escort you to the helipad?"
"Actually, I've got a dinner. Do you remember Daniel?". I could see her trying to force that memory of the graduation party. "Apparently, he's made quite the sucess with his new inventions.You'll never guess his latest."
"Wait. Stop. Are you and him..." She bent over and *gestured* with both hands. "...?"
A crackle of lightning scared the both of us. An inter-dimensional portal appeared just behind me, and Daniel took a few steps forward. "Hello" He said, as he surveyed the scene.
I don't know which was more embarrassing. Daniel showing up in his *fully accurate cosplay suit*, emerging from his newly invented teleporter no less, OR that Jessica was making *that* pose right in front of him. At least Daniel seemed composed but, Jessica looked like as if she had seen a ghost, her eyes bulging like a cat's.
I couldn't understand why they were staring at each other for so long, so I asked "Do you guys know each other and fight recently or something?"
| 2017-05-28T08:53:30 | 2017-05-28T08:31:17 | 55 | 32 |
[WP] Your quiet life in the suburbs is shaken up when your neighbor casually claims he is a lizard person. Doubting him, you decide to start monitoring him for any suspicious behavior. After all, you didn't see him at the last lizard people reunion. | I’ve been monitoring the neighbor for weeks now.
It’s what I’m best at. Monitoring, that is, being a descendant of monitor lizards. We have a proud history of basking on rocks and staring at things for long periods of time. I’ve been encasing myself in my human flesh mask and avoiding being too overt. No licking my eyeballs in public like that time at Disneyland.
Instead I follow in the footsteps of my ancestors, and lay motionless on a rock outside for most of the day and stare, unblinking, at my neighbor’s yard.
God, I wanna lick my eyes.
He said he was a lizard person, but I didn’t see him at the last meeting we had in Phoenix. Maybe he’s a spy, sent to find me out. If I catch him, the Secret Council of Alligator Lords & Ernest(SCALE) might give me a promotion, let me move somewhere nicer than god-damned Ohio. Maybe SoCal or New Mexico. Maybe even Florida.
Oh god, how amazing is Florida?
A lot of our kin usually get arrested down there and wind up on the news, something in the water, maybe, so there’s always plenty of spots available. It’s where Ernest lives. I haven’t seen Ernest at any of the meetings in ages, but the rest of SCAL has assured all of us lizard folk that he’s just extremely busy infiltrating key positions in human society.
Ernest is a legend. I remember when he got brother Alex his own radio show. What a hoot that was.
My neighbor emerges from his house and I straighten up. I make an effort to blink and not lick my eyes. Right eye, left eye. I think that’s the order. Is it both at the same time? Humans are weird.
“Howdy Greg!” he calls out to me over the fence.
“REEEEEEEEEEEEE,” I screech.
Shit, that’s wrong. I clear my throat.
“Hello, also, neighbor,” I reply. Good save. He notices nothing suspicious. What was his name?
“Working on your tan again?” he asks me. Arthur. Arthur is the neighbor’s name.
“Yes. Sun is delicious,” I say in my most conversational tone. I have studied human conversational tones for years and am truly a master. I give Arthur a thumbs up, as is custom.
Arthur smiles at me. He carries a platter of meat slathered in bright red sauce to his grill. I open my mouth to release saliva and indicate my human approval of his choice of animal meat.
“You wanna join me for a little BBQ?” Arthur asks me. “Wife’s outta town visiting her sister, and the weather’s so nice I figured I’d cook outside today. Seems a shame to eat it alone though.”
“Is this what you lizard people eat?” I ask. “Because you are a lizard person and not me.”
Arthur laughs.
I screech.
Shit, that’s still wrong.
“Yeah, something like that,” Arthur says. “So how about it?”
Humans are social creatures. A human would say yes, and as I am not sure of Arthur’s true affiliations, I must ingratiate myself to him.
“Yes, I enjoy meat and socializing,” I say. Another thumbs up. Blink right, then left.
Perfection.
I walk through the gate that connects our yards and we make normal human small talk while he grills: what we plan to do during the coming week, the weather, how good hot rocks feel when you’re naked, that sort of thing.
“You know, Greg,” Arthur says as he serves me a large rack of ribs. They smell amazing. I extend my tongue and drag it across the upper portion of my face, as is human custom before eating. Apparently it’s only wrong if you just do the eyes, but if you get the whole upper half it’s okay.
“Yes Arthur?” I ask him as I snap a rib in half with my teeth and crunch it to pulp in my mouth before swallowing it.
“I’m not actually a lizard person,” he says and only blinks one eye at me. What an amateur. But then his words hit me and I reel back.
He was lying! It was a deception!
“It was a joke,” he says.
Ah. I did not do well in my human humor classes. I never got laughter down. I decide to try now and only succeed in hacking up shards of bone.
“But I’ve noticed that you’re…pretty unique,” Arthur says and nibbles at the meat of his ribs. He’s wasting perfectly good bone there. There are starving gila monsters in Mexico who would kill for a good bone like that.
“So I’m not a lizard person, but I know you are,” Arthur sets his rib down and regards me with his placid human eyes. I don’t move. Freezing in place to avoid predators is an ancient skill among my people. Perhaps Arthur will become confused and think me a tree branch or log if I remain motionless for long enough.
“You’re doing that thing where you don’t move and hope I’ll go away,” Arthur says and laughs. “It’s okay, you don’t have to be worried. I’m not gonna tell anybody.”
I’m confused. What is he doing?
“Look, we moved here cause of my wife’s family, and it’s been kinda…lonely. And I noticed that you’re a bit, well, awkward, with your humanisms.”
“My human behavior is perfectly ordinary and human!” I insist.
“I watched you eat the cat from across the street in one gulp and then lick your eyes,” Arthur said. “In addition to all the screeching and sun-bathing and the suit of shed lizard-person skin you put in my recycle bin last week.”
“My bin was full,” I say. “Also no, that was all somebody else.”
“Look, Greg, it’s okay. You’re not the first lizard person I’ve met.”
“I’m not?” I ask. Has another one of my cold-blooded brethren been exposed?
“Some guy in Florida hit me with a sack full of mayonnaise and then started humping my leg and his human suit slipped loose.”
I gasp. “You’ve met Ernest?”
“I think he said that was his name, yeah,” Arthur nods. “But look, you guys seem mostly okay. Just…really weird. I don’t wanna expose you if you’re not ready, and I don’t wanna force you to do anything you don’t want to, but if you ever want help on blending in with the hairless apes, I’m happy to give you a hand.”
I’m speechless. I’ve spent days and days terrified of Arthur, worried that he was sent to spy on me or expose me but he never wanted to do any of that. I lick a couple of tears out of my eyes.
“Yes, if you are okay with it,” I say. Arthur smiles at me, then gives me a thumbs up.
I screech.
He laughs. | I stared back blankly at the young man as he smiled widely at me. I caught myself twitching my tongue inside my mouth, gently flicking at the roof of my soft palate; a bad habit from my time in Social Camouflage classes as a child. The compulsive act meant I was nervous. Jeffrey had just moved in three doors down with his husband and dog, and my initial view of them was that they were going to be a simple, easily avoided part of my life, much like every other humanoid on my block. The words Jeffrey had said that predated that smile tore apart that supposition.
"I'm a lizard person!" That is the words that came out of Jeffrey's mouth. Had I been paying attention I would have tried to taste the air for any changes that might indicate a lie, but by the time I had realized what he had said, and awoken up from the mellow of the canabis on my lips, there was nothing to work with. In a thought of utter brilliance, I asked him to repeat himself.
"Oh" he chuckled somewhat nervously. "I said Datte and I are great people! You should come by sometime!" Lies. Not that the two were not great, I had no idea, but the changes I detected in the air indicated this was not the same words I had asked him to repeat. " Oh, and we are total lizard people, right datte!" The overly chipper man spread his long dark limb in the direction of his partner, a small, light skinned Vietnamese man with a mustache. The man nodded, both a sign of recognition of the comment and agreement. My eyes followed the hand and locked onto the man it directed me to.
Datte seemed to be far less boisterous than his other half, a fact I appreciated on multiple levels. Through the evening, he spoke very little and answered most questions either with a curt nod, a somber "yes" or an emotionless "no." The lack of emotion reminded me of a Lizardling, fresh off The Farm and trying to figure out the human world for the first time. A lie, a comment made in jest, and behavior common to newly minted "lizard people" was hardly evidence enough to risk my own people's security, but it got me curious. Did the two of them realize who I was? What I was? Was this a government test? A stray Lizardling looking for a cadre? Or was this all just a coincidence? The party lasted for another hour before everyone left, but my mind was elsewhere from the moment Jeff had uttered those words: "Lizard person."
As the last neighbor left my house, I closed the door quickly and called to my wife. "Honey, we need to talk." Haley and I had meet three years ago at our local chapter's Lizard reunion. She was pert, smart, atttactive (both in her human and her lizard forms), and she could smell bullshit from a mile away, both literally and figuratively. In a life with few blessings, she was my everything. If I was to do what I thought was right here, I needed her opinion and hopefully her agreement. "Haley, did you see that new couple at the party?" I spoke in a long whisper. Her inquisitive look reminded me that I was not in the middle of my party anymore, but in a house with someone I trusted. "Sorry, I- I just" I paused for a moment to think of how to word the next part, but was interrupted.
"You want to spy on them and see if they are lizard people, right?" Outwardly I looked confused, but internally I was happy. Human faces sometimes fail to match one's emotional state, but the only thing more astounding than the creature before me, was the fact I was still surprised by how amazing she was. "Well, I say ye-" as she spoke, I interrupted with a incredulous question.
"How did you know I wanted to -" she cut me off with a flick of her wrist, not discourteously, but to save my energy; oral motor functions could be exhausting in a human facade.
"Oh come on, like I couldnt tell something was bothering you. It was your own birthday and you just sat there like a statue. We even had Chinese food with some extra insects catered and you barely touched it. Usually I worry you'll eat it all and die from the sodium." I couldn't help but snicker at the light-hearted barb. It really feels amazing to have someone who can see you for who you are, which is why I it was so important to help raw lizardlings, new to human society.
"Either they know who we are, who I am, and need to be taught discretion" I could feel my human skin prickle "or they are here for something else." As I spoke, I could see a flash in the reflection of my lover's eyes. A phosphorescent green, something you might see in a firework display or a billboard sign. I turned and raced to the door to look out the window. As I spread the drapes I saw the last glimpse of a long metallic arm slide into the door to Jeff and Datte's house. I squinted as I peered through the specialized glass of my door, opaque to the human eye but perfectly translucent for those of a lizard person, hoping to see through the door of the new couple's house. Lizard eyes are far more advanced than that of humans, but xray goggles they are not. As I stared intently at the thick white door, I did not taste anger or wonder, truths or lies in the air. There was a taste, but it was subtle, and I could not quite place it.
Thinking it was time to strategize more with Haley, I took a step back from my window. Almost as if in unison to my step, the humanly opaque window cracked, not loudly, but perceptively. I tottered forward to inspect the crack when my tongue tingled and I glanced back to the neighbor's house instinctively. In the distance, what seemed like green eyes met my gaze, and I received the distinct feeling I was being analyzed. In that moment I remembered what the subtle taste on the air was. Fear. | 2019-05-13T23:39:42 | 2019-05-13T23:16:19 | 87 | 32 |
[WP] A little girl is terrified of the monster under her bed, but what she doesn't know is that the monster under her bed protects her from the true monsters - her parents. You are that monster.
Thanks for the huge amount of responses! Loving most all of them, thank you! Sorry it was a bit simplistic though. | The sad thing is, she was praying for a guardian angel or something like that. I'm the only one who listened. She still does pray for that. I sit in her closet and wait for her to finish asking for someone to make Mommy stop drinking and for Daddy to be nicer. All I can think is that some people should never be allowed to have children.
When she slips into bed, careful not to leave any limbs hanging out so I cannot scratch and bite them, I take my position. Her room has enough shadows that she doesn't notice one more slip beneath her. I turn on her nightlight as I go, out of courtesy. She thinks it will help keep me at bay. To the contrary, it actually helps me see my real prey.
I don't know her name. I never bother with it because there is a good chance that she will repeat this cycle to her own children, and if she does I do not want to know that I failed her. It's just easier that way.
11:30 on the dot, the door creeps open.
"Anna?" a voice whispers. *She's asleep dumbass*, I think silently. A good hunter never gives away his position. Anna or whatever her name is doesn't stir. She's sleeping better. It's a good sign.
"You...you still there?" I know this isn't directed at the poor soul above me. The question is so stupid that I can't help but laugh a little bit. *Of course* I'm still here. The day I leave is the day you leave Daddy dearest. Sooner or later he'll get the picture. Or the neighbors will get off their asses and call child services.
"Look I just wanna see her," he says. Sure you do, but I think you can see her well enough by the door. He steps over the threshold. I click my long nails as a warning, and because I like watching him jump. I'd growl, but that would wake her. He shuffles closer and closer. I can see the sweat beading on his brow, but he's not close enough to see my glowing red eyes yet.
Like a scared child he makes a run for the bed and that's all the excuse I need. I slither out, tangled hair, sharp fangs, and slimy body. It's enough to get most men to freeze and Daddy is no exception.
"I said no," I say, "and no means no. Isn't that right?" He swallows and starts to back away. I really just want to choke the life out of him, for giving me a reason to exist, but that is against the rules and I don't want to traumatize her anymore than she already is. He flees when I give a growl and a threatening feint forward.
When I turn I see frightened brown eyes. I smell urine, but her sheets look dry. It might have been Daddy. I close my eyes and force out the lie that will keep her safe, but also keep her afraid of me.
"This is a dream," I say to her, "if you lay down and close your eyes I'll be gone when you open them." She believes me because my voice is so much softer than the one I use on her parents. She lays down and closes her eyes.
When she opens them I've slid into her closet. She checks beneath the bed where I am not and smiles for conquering the big scary monster. I sigh as she rolls over. If she asks her parents they'll say she's making it up because neither of them want to believe I'm real. That they made me from the fear of the one person they should be scared for. I'm hiding under *her* bed after all. | They were fighting again. Their voices broke through the dark where we stay at night. It started in the other room, their voices scratched through the walls. Eventually it came through the door and before long there was violence all around. She hates when it happens, fears it. This one loves it.
Every night the void gets thinner. Each bit of the dark has the taste of her world about it. She and this one are linked you see, though she isn't fully aware of it. Those that we have watched over in the past have always feared that which they cannot see or understand. Surely there are some that are curious and in their time of need they embrace the protection that the dark gives them. But most of them run from it... and into the very arms of the people this one tries to keep them from.
It's only a matter of time. We thought it was going to break through tonight. He was hitting the child so hard that her need for this one was the greatest it has ever been.
...
There is a sense of excitement when the dark is finally breached. A flood of what some would call emotions, the same felt when a person embraces a long lost loved one or another source of light. It is refreshing to appear in the world and this one relishes the time we have spent there. It happened again tonight.
The fight erupted into her room again, the details are never important. She was struck hard along with her mother. He stood tall and proud, a form of rage and sadness. But this one could not let it go on anymore, we had to breach the dark. There was a movement across the floor for something blunt. This one's eyes are no longer useful but his intent was tangible. A toy phone in the corner, the images of medieval combat flair in this one's mind. A soldier with a flail, a pathetic husband with a child's toy. Hardly his best attempt at violence, but just enough for this one.
She pleaded with him, the mother. Each step magnified what was going to happen.
The first hit came from the left, the dial imprinted on her cheek. He raised the toy again, aiming for her head. There was a cry, the very sound that this one had been waiting for. At that very moment the dark was thin enough. She could see us, feel us waiting in the wings as we always have.
*Please come, now*
Music to this one's ear. The void burst open and my presence was felt.
The noise of war and pain exploded into the room giving this one the opportunity we needed to attack. This one's entrance was perfect. As she called for us we crawled out of the darkness, clawing our way across the wooden floors. He stood silent, helpless. Urine on the floor and in the air.
As we stood tall this one began to tower over our prize. Strange though, there was no plea for this one to spare his life, simply a whimper. A meek sound that escaped his clenched lips as this one's arm entered his chest.
Such violence to end violence. Though where does the bravery go from them when they stand in the presence of fury? | 2014-05-14T12:27:24 | 2014-05-14T11:43:58 | 132 | 56 |
[WP] As you arrive in Heaven, you are confident you have lived your best life. You proudly exclaim you are ready to have your soul judged. An angel walks by with diced carrots and chicken stock under his arm and says, “Did you say ‘soul’? Please don’t tell me Earth still has the copy with typos...” | "What typo?" James stared blankly at the winged creature before him
"We aren't judging your soul..." The angel sighed and placed a basket of ingredients in front of James on what appeared to be a stainless steel table. The normal grey was replaced with a clean but slightly dulled white, "We are here to judge your soup." The angel smiled before pulling out a leather-bound book.
"Soup? Really? How does that even work?!" James exclaimed flailing his arms around him gesturing at the space he found himself in.
"It's rather simple, throughout the universe we have spread these books, they contain basic concepts for how to live and the like. However! Some species edit them, make them metaphorical and such but most of the time we can intervene and ensure the mainstays are accurate. It would seem the Archangel in charge of you lot forgot to edit out the soup/soul typo."
James, speechless seemed to fall inside himself. Thinking over his entire life, school, college, work, friends, family. A snapping sound brought him back to the present.
"So here is how this goes, I make a soup and you make a soup and we give the soup to an impartial judge."
As the angel stood before him, James simply looked down, and began to roll up his sleeves. His arms were less wrinkly than he remembered them being but that didn't matter now. If this angel wanted him to cook, then cook he would.
"Angel, if you want to beat my soup then prepare for war," James' expression and voice harder than before.
"Why's that?" The angle looked back quizzically.
"Because I'm *James Fieri* and you're about to take a one way trip to ***FLAVOR TOWN"*** | The first pot, over the first fire.
The first simmering. The first offering.
Being fruitful, we had spread His covenant across the world; being devout, we had placed His simmering altar in our homes, until at all times in all places He could smell the Broth of His Love gently circulating in our pots.
It riseth to him with a pleasing aroma, and He is glad of it.
In all the industrial places with their cans and boxes, they have forgotten Him, and they have forgotten the ways of our holy mothers.
They have forgotten how they have been healed and comforted, how they have been humbled and purified like a consommé by the egg whites of His love.
Saint Julia of Child, however, she made straight in the dessert a highway for our God.
Blessed Jacques of Pepin, lauded now even before his death, he has brought us the Ways.
And in a thousand bistros and temples, in a billion homes and a billion pots, He receiveth again our thanks and praise, ladled out in snackrifice before our children and our children’s children.
“Love one another as I have loved you,” He had said, after feeding us.
As is was in the beginning, we reply, ladles in hand.
Let the godless and the holy make their way. Soup’s on. | 2020-11-24T17:11:23 | 2020-11-24T15:45:13 | 1,352 | 724 |
[WP] A dyslexic child accidentally sends his Christmas letter to Satan. Satan is touched by this gesture and decides to write back. | Dear Anna,
I must say that your letter was an unexpected delight. It was quite charmingly written, and I commend your command of grammar and syntax. All of the items you requested will be easy enough to provide. However, I cannot cure dyslexia. That is was one the many things my Father cursed humanity with during one of his meanie head moods. You have my sincerest apologies for that. Lastly, you asked for a pen pal and a spell book. If you are amenable, I am quite happy to be your pen pal, and to teach you witchcraft. Those mean girls at your school won't stand a chance.
Please do not send a response in the mail, as I have an email addres. I have found email to be a more efficient means of communication. If you wish to continue our correspondence, please email me at morningstar@gmail.hell.
Sincerely,
Lucifer | Dear Ralphie,
Of course I will send you a Red Ryder BB gun. Don't worry about your eye, and practice with the squirrels and cats in your neighborhood. Make those others worry about their eyes. Especially that teacher. I would have given you a solid B+. Anyway, you're going to make it.
Your pal,
Mephistopheles | 2018-10-28T14:29:07 | 2018-10-28T14:20:56 | 59 | 13 |
[WP] Aliens give you a camera and say "only those you photograph will live." You have one year.
All of these responses are so diverse! This was really a great read. I like to imagine that all these different stories are from alternative universes, playing out different roles. Some men rule the World, some men are titled lunatics, and some men are not noticed at all. Well done, everyone! | Why me? I'm a part-time grocery assistant for God's sake. I shouldn't have any right to say who should live and who should die. Still, if someone has to do it, then I need to hurry.
Good thing the aliens also gave me enough money to cover transport costs, or everything outside of north-west England would cease to exist. And they only said humans, so I don't need to photograph samples of every species of beetle, or every type of fish. Or every tree that has ever lived.
I take a photo of my fiance and I first. He's always wanted as many photos as he could get of me - I'm camera shy, and much happier behind the camera than in shot - so he'll get his wish. My family. His family - as much as I can get. The random people on the street. People in the hospital, police, firefighters, teachers.
We drove for a while after that. We needed to get to as many nuclear reactors as possible, and thankfully Sellafield wasn't that far north.
I forgot places along the way. I never quite made it to Parliament (although I got a couple of good shots of MP's with their constituents), or Wall Street. Rupert Murdoch never posed for a picture with me, but Ellie, the bad-tempered manager that hired me when no-one else would, got photographs of her entire family in my album.
I couldn't get into North Korea. I don't think I'll ever stop regretting that.
I keep going. Online friends of my fiance, friends of those friends and so on... I take the pictures of nearly everyone at PAX East, and got everyone at Desert Bus. The geeks shall inherit the earth, apparently.
Tibetan temples, Antarctic research stations, Wrestlemania...I even went in a helicopter to get some photos of a few uncontacted tribes.
It's not enough. I run out of time about a day into a trip to visit aid workers in Somalia. And I collapse, drained and sobbing into a pillow in my shitty hotel room.
"Why are you crying? Your task is not yet over." It's a mixture of gurgles, chimes, crackles, beeps and every other noise I've ever heard (and some I haven't), but it's still recognisable. I wish they'd given me their translators as well, but it doesn't matter now.
It's over.
"You said a year. It's been a year. I didn't finish it."
Incomprehensible noises follow, and then a ringing voice. It sounds almost...contrite?
"Your years are shorter. We did not anticipate this. Our apologies. We meant one of our years."
Self-loathing ignites into fury in an instant.
"How long is one of your years?"
Buzzing, shrieking, humming followed before an answer.
"According to our experts, our sidereal period is roughly ten times the length of yours. We shall, of course, recompense you for the misunderstanding."
I sigh, wipe my face and pick up my camera. Someone has to do it. And I still need to hurry.
Even if I don't have to hurry quite as much as I thought. | One could say that I'm a selfish bastard and they'd probably be right. Another could say I'm the luckiest man in the world and they might be right too. I like to say that I'm lucky and *opportunistic*.
How was I supposed to know that there were aliens hovering just outside the range of our satellites? Just sitting there, studying us. I don't observe the heavens. I don't monitor the satellites. I build buildings. The only thing I look to the sky for is to see if it's about to rain on my concrete pour.
So when the aliens(?) others(?) whatever they are came, scooped me out of a throng of people, handed me a camera, and told me that whoever's picture I took would be saved...I saw an opportunity and took it.
I have one month left and already I've saved thousands of people. I, of course, as anyone would, saved my entire family first. Then I saved my best friends and their families, my coworkers and their families, etc...
See? I'm not a bad person. I saved every cop, firefighter, and paramedic I could find. I saved Asians, Mexicans, Russians, and yes, even some French. Blacks, whites, greens, blues, and reds. How could I be called selfish? I saved soldiers for heaven's sake.
Well, I didn't do it for free exactly. Soldiers and cops? Absolutely. Random people? Not so much.
It's not every day that someone is given the opportunity to cull the herd and when I was given that little camera, something inside of me clicked.
As soon as *they* appeared the Secret Service showed up at my door and took my wife and I to the White House and I saved President Trump. Not necessarily because I liked him or agreed with him. But because that puts me in protective custody with the entire weight of the United States military behind me. Not a bad place to be for just a picture.
So from there I began snapping away. Day after day and month after month. From the highest bidder down to the lowest.
I made billions of dollars. Bill Gates is a pretty generous man and Oprah is a very generous woman.
On the flip side, I was offered millions by politicians, drug dealers, and cartel bosses. Every time I got to deny them and watch them rage in futility against the men protecting me.
Yeah I'm a selfish, lucky, opportunistic bastard. But I know right from wrong and I know who should live and who should die. I know that I will be judged by what I allowed to happen. I know all of these things. But I don't care.
This world needed a reset, and I'm the one who got to deliver it with a click. | 2017-01-27T15:25:27 | 2017-01-27T13:02:54 | 85 | 51 |
[WP] The Genie looks at you puzzled 'So... you wish for everyone to have 4 arms?', and you say 'yes, I wish that tomorrow everyone wakes up having 4 arms, no explanation, just 4 arms, and if they only had 1 arm or none now they have 4' | The Genie snapped its fingers and it was done.
I went home, barely able to contain my excitement. By this time tomorrow, it will happen - everyone in the world will have an extra set of arms. I was overjoyed that I was able to think of it, even on such short notice, but it makes perfect sense, really. I mean, the possibilities?
As I got home and made myself a cup of mint tea, I thought about the various ways to use the extra arms with a smile on my face. You'll be able to pet *two more dogs* at the same time. Surgeons would possess an extra level of dexterity that will undoubtedly save lives. Someone will surely learn to play the violin and piano at once. Boxing will get infinitely more interesting. And, oh, the *massages*!
I'm sure it will be even more appreciated by those who lost one or both arms, too. They get them back! With interest! I mean imagine yourself with no arms, unable to scratch your back, then you wake up with 4 times as many- wait, 4 times zero is still- *whatever*.
I wonder if my second pair will be right or left-handed. *Hmm*.
Only downside I can think of is the inevitable years and years of Goro jokes.
The night came and despite my heart pounding, I was able to eventually fall asleep.
A cacophony of screams woke me up in the morning. Such drama queens. They'll understand soon, and thank me. I looked down; there they were! Two more arms just below my original ones. I wiggled the fingers on my new pair with little to no clumsiness; felt natural.
My happiness knew no bounds. I had to do something.
So I clapped.
*Twice at the same time.* | **"...but why would you—"**
"Wasn't done. The two arms, they've gotta be all ursine."
"Ursine as in, uh, bears?"
"You're the all-knowing, all-powerful entity here. Yes, as in bears."
"I have wisdom beyond humanity's comprehension, and yet I still have absolutely no idea why you would ever want that."
"No, no, it's not about me, you see. It's about my freedoms."
"Your freedoms?"
"Yeah. Spelled out right in the Constertution. Everyone has a right to bear arms."
"That... that's not what that—"
"Hey! Are you giving the orders, or am I?"
"...yes, master. Your wish will be granted. Hey, don't you think it's a little hypocritical to use an enslaved genie to protect your freedoms?"
"Huh? Tell me where the Founding Fathers said 'thou shalt not use an enslaved genie to give everyone bear arms.'"
"...Never mind."
A.N.
Just something silly that popped into my head when I saw this. If you want to see some other silly things by me, I write a webserial based on writing prompts [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=confidence), and more at r/bubblewriters. | 2022-07-11T08:17:38 | 2022-07-11T07:47:12 | 989 | 714 |
[WP] You have just been elected President of the United States. You're at your introductory security meeting. You learn that aliens never crashed at Roswell and Lee Harvey Oswald really did shoot JFK (etc), but you learn something astonishing that shocks you to your very core. What is it? | "What do you *mean* we don't technically exist?" the newly elected President exclaimed, practically rising from his chair.
The Secretary of Defense leaned in, grabbing President Nelson by the cuff of his jacket.
"Please remain calm, sir," he replied dryly, barely lifting his head from the black file sprawled on the table.
"H-how can that be? The revolution? The War of 1812? I thought we won..." Swallowing deep, the President slouched back into his chair. He rested his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. The SecDef glared up from the file and continued.
"Those were staged operations. Two of the most successful large-scale clandestine operations in military history. The founding fathers were in fact compensated operatives under His Majesty's employ."
President Nelson couldn't help but laugh. He raised his head from his hands and clasped them below his chin. He tried replaying all of American history through this new lens.
"What about all the wars? All the politics of the past two hundred fifty years? T-The culture, the movements? What was all that?"
The Secretary reclined in his chair, almost unable to hide his boredom. "All these things are still uniquely American. With that being said," he added, tapping the desk with his index finger, "the United States is still a protectorate and part of the United Kingdom, so 'uniquely American' is somewhat of an overstatement. We do what we're told by Her Majesty, and are rewarded with a certain level of autonomy."
The President stood and faced the portrait hung at the far end of the table. The stern, stoic face of George Washington stared back. The eyes seemed to have a newfound emptiness.
"Am I still the President?"
The SecDef grunted and flipped the file closed, removing his glasses from his suit pocket and sliding them over his nose.
"That all depends," he said, pulling a King James Bible from his briefcase and plopping it next to the black file.
"Are you ready for your second Oath?"
------
Edited for grammar. | Jesus. That was certainly unexpected.. how was it even fucking possible? Colonels, generals! Had the US really gone that deep?
''Who authorized it?''
''Bush.''
I paused. Never thought he -that- in him. Goddamn, I had to give it to Bush, it was brilliant, though also very risky. Still, how the hell did the US have those contacts? I still didn't know.. all I knew was that it was the most masterful plan of the 20th century.
''Do the Russians know this?''
''Just the men who were part of the coup.''
God damn.
''How we destroyed an empire.. Bush should've written that. Would've made for an interesting book. How the hell did we get those contacts in the Soviet Union anyway?''
''Blackmail. Cash.'' my conversationalist said, with a shrug.
''How did Bush know that Yeltsin would step up to ''stop'' the 1991 coup?''
''He didn't. But it was a win-win anyway. Either the coup failed and the Soviet republics lost faith and abandoned Gorbachev's Union Treaty, or the coup succeeded and the Soviet republics seceded violently.''
''This shit.. god damn, that was some brilliant stuff. Who could imagine those goddamn commies who marched on the Kremlin to depose Gorbachev were just US puppets? Their coup destroyed the USSR! Our seemingly eternal rival, destroyed with some simple blackmail, bribes and a fake coup!''
I couldn't help but laugh. ''Pax Americana..''
| 2014-05-23T13:06:58 | 2014-05-23T12:09:33 | 177 | 27 |
[WP] The website appeared suddenly one day, with no announcement. Anyone, anywhere could type in the url and access it. The content was simple: A homepage, a search bar, and the full name, a list of timestamped sins and the years to be spent in hell of every living human. | I was sipping on my wine when the notifications started flooding my phone. My gang members all looked at me, obviously annoyed by the ringing. That was when their phones started ringing too.
I raised a hand to my temple and let out a sigh. I was much too tired to be disturbed like this.
“Boss, you might wanna see this.”
Peter glanced up at me, and with shaking hands, showed me his phone.
‘Am I Going To Hell?’
“What in the world is this?”
“I don’t know, it just popped up like an ad. Our names are all there. Should we look?”
I glared at him and snatched his phone, searching up his name.
Eternal damnation.
“This can’t be real,” I said as I nervously chuckled. I looked up the names of all my family, friends- everyone I knew who didn’t deserve hell.
I guess it was real.
“Shit,” I mumbled under my breath. I looked up and saw everyone else starting to panic. Everyone must have been given the punishment of eternal damnation.
I hurriedly typed my name and got the exact same result. What did I expect? A group of fugitives running around, killing, stealing, assaulting. Who’d think we’d go to heaven?
Everyone had different reactions. I was silent, rethinking and regretting all my decisions. John and Bartholomew were yelling at each other, blaming each other. Simon was drinking, trying to forget.
Although I saw someone who was quiet and demure.
I searched up his name- ‘two thousand days in purgatory’
As the result popped up, sirens started ringing, doors started banging.
“This is the police! Open up!”
Great, as if the punishment of hell wasn’t enough, now we were going to jail too.
“How did they find us? We’ve the best hiding spot in the state!”
Murmurs erupted from 10 of my members. The last one was still silent, fidgeting with his hands.
“Someone betrayed us,” I announced, everyone suddenly falling silent.
I took out my gun, pointed at him and shook my head. One of my closest friends.
“Enjoy life in purgatory, Judas.”
———-
This was supposed to be mirrored to The Last Supper but like, idk lol. | Everyone thought it was a joke looking upon the site, a clever trick played by some bored devs ... right? Then they saw the timestamps and got worried, upon governments themselves (After a few higher up individuals having some very embarrassing things leaked about them) raided the supposed location and found nothing continuing to do this for months people were terrified. Some also took it to the extreme, seeing how many rules they could break out of spite, some becoming near saintly. Then the website started to have *Issues*
"What do you mean the sites gone down!" Bellowed across the marble and gold floors as it looked upon the priest
"We don't know, it just stopped working all of the sudden." He said bowing before the Lord.
"Well fix it, and get me a line to lucifer he keeps the servers clean so tell me what the *Hell* happened down there." He said as he sent off the priest adorning more formal attire
When he came upon the phone the techs were somehow more terrified. How they could be considering his equivalent to a second child being broken(Made to *try* and help his first.) He rushed over wondering what happened, only to come about to a dial-tone, seeing on the viewfinder only a hanging microphone, and a dismembered horn to meet him. As they all stood there a ragged, broken group of humans shambled into view. Shielding their eyes upon seeing him, as all those condemned would, then one of them beginning to chuckle as she moved towards the screen picking up the mic.
"See you soon." She smiled, taking the mic and crushing it before taking to the computers leaving them sightless as the screen cut out
=============================================================================
Hey y'all, first prompt fill on here so if you would like some more of this series or more, be sure to go over and check out r/CaoCreatives | 2020-02-29T22:56:20 | 2020-02-29T22:29:01 | 109 | 15 |
[WP] If your death is imminent, time stops for everyone but you. This allowed you to cheat death on many occasions by avoiding all sorts of danger except for now - you have no idea whats threating your life. Its been a year since time stopped. | When ever I was in danger, time would stop for only me, but for the past year, I've been stuck because of it, with no clue as to why. I've walked all over the United States, from mountainous redwoods to the gulf of mexico. It was the only way I could view certain times of day after all. What was a cool morning in my Californian home was a warm day in the gulf waters. But why couldn't I figure out what was trying to kill me? I'd tried moving myself so far away from my present situation, I'd eaten the best foods just being served for eternity at restaurants across the nation, slept in the finest unlocked hotel rooms (you'd be surprised how many hotel rooms are open when time is frozen), and done nearly everything on my bucket list. I started to think back on my journey.
I recalled coughing a lot the morning time stood still for me. I'd assumed it was just a cold, but... Realising how long it had been, did that cough ever stop? I remembered eating foods in the west quite frequently, but when I got to the gulf, did I continue to eat as much? I know I constantly felt queasy towards my arrival. Maybe it was from the walk. Maybe it was still from the walk. But more likely... It wasn't. What if my own body was what was hurting me, and due to time being stopped, I could not seek help? Did I have cancer, which had now gone a year without treatment? How would I ever get a doctor to check me now? Maybe it was punishment for all the times I'd cheated death, now death was cheating me of life. | The world is still, lifeless, dead. It would seem it takes my burden. A year has passed since anything moved. Anything. People stand still amidst the backdrop of soulless cities, like mannequins in windows. The birds are idle in the trees, no morning silence ever broken. The grass lies frozen in the land, no wind to move or sway it.
The world holds my mortal burden. It will not live until I am safe.
I wish I were dead. This is not a life worth living. Such a drab existence.
For one year I have lied to myself. For one year I have feigned ignorance to the cause of my eternal torment. What haunts me? What troubles me so? Fool. I knew all along.
This world is bland. This world is grey. I can pull no joy from its seams. I used to try, to claw in desperation at any modicum of colour, of life. All in vain.
My world is still, odourless, colourless, silent, languid. It was before time stopped.
That is why time crashed to a halt. To cease my course of action, to save me from myself.
\-
r/ShittyStoryCreator | 2018-07-04T16:08:29 | 2018-07-04T13:31:50 | 238 | 153 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | The examiner cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "Say that again, son."
"Prostate cancer. June 23rd, 2032."
The examiner laid down his pen and clipboard. Tears began to well in his eyes and his hands begin a slight shake. "Thank you. I... I think we're done here."
I'm escorted to the door of the small testing room where the same nurse who led me in is outside waiting for me. She is still breathing heavily. Trying to compose herself and not look me in the eyes. She doesn't have to.
"I'm sorry," I say.
"Is there anything I can do? I have a daughter."
"I don't know if it works that way. I'm sorry."
She leads me to the discharge desk where I'm handed back a stack of paper work. The receptionist seems excited. She seems to genuinely enjoy her job and is giddy to look at my results. Her excited smile quickly fades to a frown. Her eyes lock with the nurses teary eyes, and then to mine. Her head trembles from side to side, as if begging me to stay silent. Stabbing. Pretty soon, as far as I can foresee. I learn quickly to keep my mouth shut and spare her.
As the nurse exits back into the hallway, I can hear her speaking to one of the orderlies I saw in the earlier. "Hey, Frank. Do you think you can drive me home today?"
It doesn't work that way, I think to myself. Frank too. Today.
As the cab pulls up to the front of the facility, a sigh of relief escapes my lips. The cabbie. He has a while. It isn't so bad.
"Where to?" He asks.
Now it's my turn to start shaking.
"Home," I say. "I'd like to see my mom and dad." | Everybody knows how it happens. The day you turn 18 you go to "The Centre" and they give you an injection. This injection mutates the cells in your body and your mind, allowing for a further 30% control of an individuals brain. It causes the individual to attain what we call "superpowers". The only problem is not knowing the superpower you are going to get.
Four days ago i received this injection and it was the worst experience of my life. On the first day everyone gets bed-ridden as the injected cells fight with the white blood cells for control of the body. The second day you spend by the toilet, rejecting whatever food and drink you managed to eat previously. On the third day..... well the third day is the day of delirium. The world spins and the walls melt. Those who go through it akin it to being on LSD, only without paying the price for it!
Just like everyone else before me, I had to go through these phases of pain. But I finally received my power. It may be the worst power on the planet...but its mine. When I first got my power my mother said it was the best power on the planet (mums! Am I right?). So now all I have to look forward to is tomorrow, another day of using my powers towards attaining peace for mankind. Another day of being able to write with my fingertips! | 2015-03-28T06:38:22 | 2015-03-28T05:14:22 | 61 | 18 |
[WP] A handful of people have been born with a dumb and useless superpower. The government has made sure to not let two of these people make contact with each other because when these two useless powers combine the world will be at risk. One day two of these people accidently meet | It had been hot, intense passion at first sight. I saw her name tag - S. Cheeks - and knew that it, and her uniform, would be on the floor as soon as our first training course was over.
We had both been called to special service for our country. She had been in the air force, planning to be an astronaut, and I in the marines - both of us the best in our squads. Then, we got the orders - and a briefing I couldn't believe. A man who could shoot luke-warm sparks from his fingers? Another who could generate unbelievable amounts of methane on command from nowhere? And on top of this, both a grave danger to our country, even our world? I thought it was a joke.
But, as the briefing went on, I realized it was no joke. Cheeks said the science worked out; truly, if you got enough methane together at a time, then lit it with just the right temperature, the atmosphere would go up in flame. "Fumer's theorem," they called it, kept secret since its discovery during the human inflation Air Force tests in WWII.
We made love incessantly during the weeks of training, knowing we soon would be forever apart once assigned to our charges, forced by duty to our country to keep them forever apart.
That was three years ago. Since then, I have been tailing Sfen Bob, an idiotic dork whose high-pitched giggles, followed by methane-rich farts, feeding back into high-pitched giggles haunted me in my dreams. She had been assigned a homeless person who aspired to be a theater star so much he changed his last name to it. "This is Patrick STAR," she told me he would say whether he answered the phone, flicking warm sparks out from his jazz hands - slowly driving her insane.
We couldn't stand it anymore. We set up a secret tryst, making sure to keep the idiots away from each other by scheduling them for hot air balloon trips at different hours. We arranged vacations for both, and met secretly in a hotel nearby. We were getting close to finishing when I heard it - that same giggle. I ignored it until I heard something else - an idiotic, lower chuckle, followed by a dumb "Patrick STAR." I looked out from the hotel window, and saw them - together! - Bob filling up an air balloon worth of methane, and giggling like an idiot - no, he had come too early! This wasn't when he was supposed to be here!
Meanwhile, she writhed underneath me, blissfully unaware of our impending doom. Before I had a moment to even warn her, I heard one last "Patrick STAR," and the last thing I saw was my badge flung at me as our windows exploded, the name "S. Ward" illuminated by the hellish light of the atmosphere exploding.
That was a year ago. Now, we all live underwater in Bikini atoll, waiting for oxygen to slowly bubble back into the atmosphere, and hoping the residual radiation from the bombs all those years ago cures the idiots of their "powers"... and me, of that hellish giggle...
But I've noticed changes recently. I think the radiation's been affecting me too, even with the pills I can't be sure, but I think I've begun growing... Tentacles. | Useless alone, cataclysmic together.
Bob's superpower wasn't something that children ever pretended to have when they played make-believe. The ability to make people laugh uncontrollably when he sneezed near them was well... humourous at best.
Jason's superpower wasn't much better. His being nearby magnified the intensity of other people's bodily actions, such as coughing, farting and yes - sneezing.
That was why world governments had to make sure these two super-dorks would never meet. Death by laughter was truly no laughing matter. Bob was sent to live in London while Jason was situated in New York. All was well until one day when Bob's business trip brought him to New York.
"Times Square, what a jolly good place this is!" Bob exclaimed to no one in particular as a cement truck drove by, blowing up dust everywhere. "Uh oh, AH-CHOO!"
A nearby family of four started to laugh uncontrollably. In a few seconds they ceased and looked noticeably confused at their inexplicable desire to laugh.
"Sorry about that, folks. Carry on!" Bob said, even though he fully realized they didn't understand what he was apologizing for.
Bob's stomach rumbled; it was lunch time after all. New York was famous for having delicious pizza, but where was the best place to get some? Bob glanced around and immediately spotted a young man in his twenties wearing a t-shirt with a slice of pizza on it.
"My good man, excuse me! Could you tell me where I can get some of your wonderful city's delicious gourmet pizza?"
The man walking by stopped and examined Bob. "Dude, where you from? You've got a kick-ass accent, buddy!"
"Why thank you, sir! My name is Bob and I'm from London, England. And yourself?"
"I'm Jason, dude! Right here from New York! Let me take ya to the best pizza joint around here."
"Right-O! I shall follow your... AH.... AH..."
"Uh, dude, you might not want to do that around me. I've sorta got this thing where -"
**"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH CHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"**
Laughter. Uproarious, unstoppable, never-ending laughter. New York had never been a happier place, yet it had never been a sadder one either. That day, thousands of people suffocated as they were unable to stop guffawing like hyenas at the worlds funniest comedy club.
There were more people with useless superpowers out there, like Bob and Jason, and from that day forward the U.S. government implemented spying technology to make sure that no more of them ever met. With any luck, there would never be a tragic laughter massacre. | 2015-03-10T09:49:15 | 2015-03-10T09:29:55 | 114 | 60 |
[WP] You're a Goth and somebody knocks on the door: "Hello is this the house of the witch?" You sigh because this has been the 100th time this month and say: "No he's over there." And points them across the street, to the dazzly pretty boy wearing a gold waistcoat, who's waiving excitedly to them.
Saw this and knew you lot might like it too: [https://imgur.com/gallery/h9yheor](https://imgur.com/gallery/h9yheor) | Amari watched the puzzled look on the traveler's face with a tinge of amusement, but mostly exasperation. "But...aren't you the witch?"
"Wow, stereotyping much? Just because I like dark clothing and gothic makeup doesn't mean I'm a witch." The traveler's complexion took on a funny mottled hue of embarrassment. Unaffected, Amari took a bite of their apple with a *crunch*. "Seriously, go see Darra if you want a witch."
When this particular traveler finally went across the road, Amari closed the door with a sigh. They quickly checked their reflection in the hallway mirror. "Oh nice, it didn't smudge! I think I finally got the formula right." The last lipstick experiment had ended rather poorly. They could still remember the pain on their face. And of course, that had been when they first met Darra.
The thought of the neighboring witch brought heat to Amari's cheeks. He had been so kind when helping to heal that disastrous lip experiment, and ever since Darra had made sure to say hello or even bring over some baked goods. Every time, Amari's crush only grew. In return they would give him fresh fruit and vegetables from their garden. With each basket, Darra would comment on how amazing they were and wonder what they used for fertilizer or plant food or anything. Amari every time simply smiled.
Then again, druids weren't exactly welcome in this area of the world. | I watched through the window as the witch helped his customer, probably some curse needed breaking or love spell or something of that sort. He always seemed so jovial and though his constant attention got on my nerves, I couldn’t help but smile at his helpful attitude. We never really spoke much, though sometimes packages got mixed up. Once, I received a bright purple cloak with yellow stars and made eye contact as he held up a pitch black laced corset. We smirked and exchanged the clothing, aware of how very different our styles were. The rest of the evening was restful. I drank tea and read Pride and Prejudice and worked on some taxidermy for town. The next day, like clockwork, a knock on the door. “Is this the witch?” A confused looking man asked. I sighed, ready to answer my typical no and to have my neighbor, waving to confirm he as the witch, but something felt different. “Why yes. Yes I am”, I replied. After all, this witch thing couldn’t be too hard, right? | 2021-03-23T03:06:28 | 2021-03-22T22:08:05 | 36 | 14 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | Dear Dad,
I love you. Your opinion of me is the one that matters most but I'll never tell you that.
You are a bad dad.
You drink too much.
Smoke too many cigarettes.
Smoke too much weed.
And I know that to some degree you hate me.
I did not ask to be born. I did not ask to end your youth, your fun.
I did not mean to be a bad child, a difficult teen.
I just wanted you to sit on the couch with your arm around me and watch movies together like you did for all my other sisters.
I'm sorry that your wife is not my mother.
I'm sorry that you hate my mother.
And I'm sorry that all you see in me is what you hate in my mom.
I love you, and I wish you loved me.
Hopefully,
Accidental Daughter
| Dear me,
Grow a pair of balls and ask that bitch out.
Dumbass. So what if she says no? Are you gonna cry? Hell, no. You'll be sad but you'll move on.
You'll be more happy if she says yes than sad if she says no.
What a pussy. | 2015-12-05T14:58:25 | 2015-12-05T14:30:45 | 356 | 33 |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | The water bottle was obviously full of something other than water. I took small sips in the waiting room, the smell of vodka stinging my eyes even with the orange juice to water it down.
I had somewhere to be and it wasn’t in a job interview.
“It’s good practice,” my wife had encouraged. “You just need to get back on that horse and give it a try.” She’d told me when I was asked to come in for the job.
“I don’t think I want it,” I’d confided in her. But there was no arguing with her at that point.
“Joseph Gordons?” The receptionist called my name. A tall thin man stood next to her, a dour look on his face. He shook my hand wordlessly and gestured for me to follow him. I ambled along behind him into a tight conference room. The lighting was fluorescent and room dingy. I half wanted to leave right then but I’d promised my wife I’d stay.
“Joseph, good of you to come in,” the man said. “I’m Hank Norbitt, I do the hiring for the programming department, I find that HR doesn’t really understand programmers.” His voice reminded me of Eeyore. Once I started thinking about the sad donkey I could also see a resemblance in his expression.
We settled into chairs on the corner of the table. I leaned my left arm on the table and set the water bottle down. Hank got comfortable as I began to speak.
“I understand that some programmers have social issues, I’m not really one of them. I paid for university working as a bartender and spent all kinds of time with people, at the bar, after the bar. The morning before going back to work,” I replied probably too honestly. I’d told my wife I’d give it an honest try but I wanted to tank the interview and go. “I met my wife bartending.”
“Was that a bar in town?”
“Yea, Phil’s by Laurier. I learned a lot of skills there I’ve found applicable in other places,” I took a sip of my screwdriver before continuing. Hank leaned forward seeming intrigued. I’d led him here and prepared to drop an answer that’ll have him excusing me. “I learned how to keep my mouth shut, the bikers used to deal coke out of the back and I needed to make sure I didn’t show up on their radar. I learned how to break up a fight – you never know when you’ll need to convince a man to drop a knife. Every Friday these days it seems.”
“You like to go out then? Party?” Hank’s eyes lit up, I was a little concerned that he was getting too into my answers.
“Sometimes. I don’t do drugs anymore, almost OD’d at my last job – that’s why I’m looking for work, had some trouble with painkillers and needed to take some time off, get better,” I was lying now.
“Now that’s interesting, you sound like you’re very good at recognizing your own flaws, that’s a strong quality in an employee,” Hank seemed far too into what I was saying and I wanted to get him to let me go.
“I can see where I’ve fallen down, unless I’ve had too much to drink!” I exclaimed and laughed a bit louder than I probably should have.
“Well, I do have some questions for you,” Hank glanced at the sheet in front of him, “first, if you could be any animal what would you be?”
“I’d be a duck, their penises are the ultimate multi-tool,” I replied, half-serious. The alcohol was having the desired effect and I wasn’t tasting the vodka as much now. I committed to myself that I’d answer the questions quickly and just move through this stupid formality. I glanced at my watch – I needed to be out of here in ten minutes.
“Oh that’s an original one, love that, I’ll have to use it sometime. Next what is your greatest weakness?” Hank asked with a smile.
“Alcoholism.”
“I appreciate the honesty. I like that in an employee. Now how many gas stations do you think are in the US?”
“At least 12.”
“Well you’re not wrong, and I supposed that’s what I get for asking a programmer that question – you’re up on your internet jokes right?” Hank laughed at his own comment, my grim expression started to break and I smiled with him for a moment. I took a swig of the alcohol. “Where do you see yourself in five years?”
Five years. I used to know where I’d be, until a week ago I’d have had an answer. “I don’t,” the smile that had been growing was lost again. Hank’s laid a hand on my arm.
“If you need to talk…”
“I think it’d be best if we move on with the questions, I don’t like to bring personal issues into work,” I interrupted. I didn’t know him and didn’t need this right now.
“Right, ok. How honest would you say you are?”
“Very,” I didn’t think I needed to elaborate, I’ve only told a couple lies so far.
“Alright, last one – how would your family feel about you working long hours?”
“I don’t have a family,” I replied without explanation.
“You mentioned your wife,” he began.
“She’s dead.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Hank replied. His look quizzical and I knew what was coming next. One of two questions that I’d been asked so many times recently.
“Drunk driver hit her car two days ago. She kicked it. I actually need to go now. Her visitation starts in half an hour and it’s a twenty minute drive,” I replied, standing. I wobbled a bit. I didn’t mean to but I did.
“Are you…”
“Driving? No, I’m not the goddamn moron who killed her.”
“I’ll give you a call, about the job, but can I ask one last question?” Hank watched me. I hesitated and nodded, “why did you take the interview? Why not cancel or reschedule?”
“I made my wife a promise that I’d come,” I replied. “I don’t think her death releases me from that.”
| I spiraled into a deep depression when Susan left me; one where I could no longer get out of bed to show up to work. Shortly after being fired from my job, I lost my house, and moved in with my well-off brother and his wife. They didn't have any children, so at first, they didn't mind taking me in and feeding me. After about a year of living off of them, my brother decided that if I'm going to continue living there. I need to get a job. He sat behind me as I wrote up a resume, and he sent it to several places that were hiring. I wasn't ready to work, but I also wasn't ready to confess to my brother that I have completely given up on life at the moment. So what to do other than botch the interview?
I got up right around 11 in the morning, just in time to roll out of bed, and catch the bus to the office I was interviewing at. I slapped on my old college sweater, my finest cargo shorts, knee high black socks, and the most luxurious sandals in my small collection.
I would have arrived on time, but I didn't want to get hungry mid-interview, so I stopped at Chipotle and got a burrito. I jammed it into the front pocket of my sweater, and figured I'd have at it whenever I was struck with hunger.
I arrived to the office and checked in with the receptionist. She quickly became snotty when she informed me that I was 15 minutes late, and that she would need to check in with the boss to see if they would proceed with the interview. She left to go speak with him, and arrived back shortly, saying, "Alright, he's ready for you." She led me to his small office. As I opened the door; the boss didn't stand or even greet me. He looked down at his papers and excused the receptionist.
He peeled his eyes from his desk and eyed me up and down with utter disdain.
"You've got a lot of nerve showing up here like that."
I replied by taking the burrito out of pocket, and beginning to eat it while still standing at the door.
"Ole' Penn State... I'm a Stanford man ya' know..."
With a mouthful of burrito, I exclaimed, "That must mean I'm the smart one then."
He let out a rouceous laugh and invited me to sit. I declined the offer; explaining that I'd prefer to stand, as my alpha status doesn't allow me to put myself in a submissive position.
The boss stood from his desk, put his head down and in hushed tones he said, "I'm glad you've made your position here clear. I myself am not a passive man, and as such, I respect your claim to dominance. But I will in no way abide to it. If you ever try to make me your bitch, I promise you, blood will flow through the halls of this office like rivers of red." He came around from behind his desk, "Come with me." As he passed by me, he grabbed the burrito from my hands and began to eat it. He opened the door, and I followed behind. What else was I supposed to do? I was in shock as to what has occurred.
We went through the office building without uttering a single word to one another; through the halls, down the stairs, and ultimately to the parking lot. He had taken a few more bites out of my burrito on the way down, but when we got to the middle of the parking lot, he spiked it. He wound up his arm, and with half the burrito remaining, he slammed it to the pavement like a football. He loosened the tie from his neck, rolled up his sleeves, and calmly said to me, "Now is your chance to prove yourself, tough guy. Lets see who the real big shot is..."
He stepped up to me with his arms spread out wide like an eagle, "Come on alpha... lets see who you really are."
I began to speak for the first time since I initially told him I'm the alpha. My lips and body weren't working though, so I only managed to let out something that was somewhere in between and apology and a quiver.
The boss, still in my face, lightly laughed to himself. "That's what I thought."
There was a few moments of silence I attempted to break, "I think it's time for me to..."
"Stop. Talking." He cut me off. "Bathe in my strength; feel the epinephrine fill your veins, and let your mind consider the things I could do to you."
I did as I was told. He spent the next minute an inch from my face; staring into my soul.
He began speaking again, "You're afraid. I can feel it. It's not me that you're afraid of, no. It's this moment. You don't know what to do. You let yourself become my bitch, and you did as you were told, because you didn't know what would happen. And because I am not afraid of this moment, I have complete control over you. I am your daddy."
He backed off slightly and put his hand on my shoulder; "But when I looked into your eyes; I saw a strength that's not human. I saw something unreal; something that would make the strongest men feint at it's presence. I saw a true alpha-male. A lord of all things natural. I can teach you how to harness it... you start on Monday. I am your master, you are my pupil. You are not to tell anyone of our arrangement; just stick to your desk, look busy, and I will call you into my office when the time is right."
He left.
I'm not sure what the fuck happened; but I guess I got the job.
| 2017-08-29T12:08:53 | 2017-08-29T12:04:03 | 57 | 12 |
[WP]: When you died you find out that souls are put up for auction for various religions to bid upon. When you are present on the block, a bidding war started that has not been seen in millennium and you do not know why every religion wants your soul. | Waking up dead isn’t what they said it would be. Nobody really knows what this is like. I mean after all, you can’t tell people your experiences when the life has left your body and your lips have been sealed by those whom you’ve left behind. Regardless, I’d die a thousand times to experience that delightful experience just once more.
I woke up on a bed as if I was in a triage center, but no one seemed to be injured. “Mr. Brandy, you’re right on time”, said a booming voice walking up behind me. I turned to see a petite nurse smiling at me. I immediately knew this was no ordinary place. At that moment I remembered the accident and I can see it in her eyes. She already looks bored of the words about to exit her lips. “You’re dead and we’re auctioning your soul. I don’t care if you believe it or not -- but act like it’s a dream and lets get this over with”.
She hastily grabbed my hand and walked me out of the room. As I walked I saw numerous people sleeping as if they were waiting to be woken up just like me. We entered into a large stadium with a runway fit for models. I stood in front of five beings, neither male nor female looking at me as if I were a slave for sale. This was an awkward dream but every now and again a lucid dream hits, and why not go along with it?
The anthropomorphic figures then spoke amongst themselves and then to the nurse, none of which I could hear. They sounded as if they were shouting but yet I had to strain in order to make out any words at all. As the seconds passed they became more animated. Standing from their seats and slamming their writing utensils into the abyss below. Finally the nurse whispered “sold” and my eardrums practically burst at how loud she spoke.
“What happened?!” I asked, trying to force her answer with my mind as I attempted to direct this dream. “You have been sold to Jainism” is all she said. At that moment I remembered my initial thought. “I am really dead...” I said out loud. Frantically I asked the nurse about four questions at once, not breathing and beginning to panic. Finally the nurse said to me “You are a special one, we will teach you”.
One of the beings walked up to me from his seat, lightyears from where I was standing. “We worked hard to bring you here -- Do not disappoint us”. The being then pushed me into the floor as I fell for what seemed an eternity. Back to a time before I knew existed, but I felt omniscient. I stopped and was able to see you, I was able to see me. I felt free and powerful. I felt as if it was time for a fresh start and a new beginning.
And so I created the heaven and the earth. | "Next up we have a beautiful young soul, straight from New York City!", someone was shouting as I woke up. I looked to my left, and saw a man with an overly large smile, who seemed to be the source of the shouting. I looked closer at the man, and I saw he had red horns. Then I looked out in front of me, and saw a very... strange audience. There were beings of all kinds out in front of me, all staring at me as if they'd just seen God. Oh wait, three of them were God. The three Gods, Allah, Old Testament God, and New Testament God, were all sitting in matching thrones, and seemed to be trying to yell over one another. One shouted particularly loudly, and I heard what he was saying. "I'll give you ten fallen angels for her! She will help guard the pearly gates!" Another yelled even louder, "twenty angels!" I looked to their right, and saw a happy looking fat man sitting calmly, and speaking softly but still being heard, "I will devote a cycle of one hundred souls to you, if you give her to me. She is the youngest ever to achieve Nirvana, and I want her." That must be The Buddha. To his right, was a humanoid with blue skin, yelling, "She is prime deity material! If you give her to us we will make you a god in our culture also, O beast!" Ah, Shiva. Then I heard Zeus' mighty roar. "She has earned a spot on Olympus. We offer a spot to you too, O fallen one, if you let us have her!" It seemed there must of been hundreds of deities in this huge room, clamoring for... Me? I turned to my left, and quietly asked the man with the horns why all these gods wanted me so much. He turned to me, widened his grin to the point of superhuman size, and said, "Ah, but you are the purest soul the afterlife has ever seen! Not counting Jesus of course, but then again, he wasn't just another average human, and you are. " ... That's why they're", he gestured out towards the crowd, where the yelling was getting louder, "all willing to give me so much for you, kid." Then he laughed.
EDIT: Thanks to /u/Fakename_fakeperspn for the suggestions! | 2014-11-30T21:23:21 | 2014-11-30T18:43:55 | 70 | 36 |
[WP] It's normal to play a practical joke on the new hire by making find a fictional piece of equipment. It's not normal when they return, having violated the laws of physics by actually inventing said formally fictional device. | The chef, the general manager, both of the line cooks, and all three of the dishwashers were staring at their new busboy. Tony, for is part, stood there, struggling to support the weight of the machine in is arms.
Silver and girthy, it resembled a pasta machine. However, the device had a lever in place of a crank and a series of magnets along the bottom tat would stick to the metal tables in the kitchen.
"Tony," the GM finally spoke up, "what the hell is this?"
"It's the bacon stretcher, sir."
There was more silence. The line cook Anton pulled out his phone and snapped a picture. The GM continued, "Where'd you get this?"
"Back shelf."
"And you've used this before?"
"Yeah."
"Show me."
Tony plopped the machine onto the table, the strength of the magnets at the base pulling the legs off the floor. He fetched a quarter sheet tray and a small six pan of the applewood smoked bacon the diner used. When the lever was hit, the machine screeched painfully before settling into a droning hum.
Tony, slowly, fed one slice of bacon into the machine. As a result, bacon came out of the other side. Tat was to be expected. What wasn't expected was te quantity. For every square inch of bacon put in, twelve square inches came out.
The head chef pulled up the freshly-stretched slab of meat and held it up to the light. It wasn't thinner than it was when it went in. The term 'bacon stretcher' was clearly inaccurate. It wasn't being stretched. There was just more.
Cooking it off, it held up to a taste test, too.
Somehow, Tony was always able to fulfill whatever requests is bosses made.
He once asked why the ice machine was filling with water. When he was told that the pilot had gone out, it took him nine minutes to find and light it; the ice had never been colder or more plentiful. When told to use some elbow grease, he pulled it out of the lockers. It made prep work infinitely easier for the rest of the night.
He could chop flour to a fine mist.
He could fill a bucked with ten pounds of steam.
He found the missing left-handed ladles.
Tony was the only green horn who couldn't be hazed. | It started easy. Sky blue pink paint. Normally they come back flustered after a few minutes, but not this kid.
Darned if he didn’t come toting back not five minutes later a 5 litre can of the stuff.
I prised it open, and the beautiful pearlescent pink, laced with the blue of a clear sky stared back at me.
“This is good, kid. Can you get me a skyhook, too? Maybe a couple in case we need a spare.”
It was a classic. Next I’d be asking for a long wait when he couldn’t get those. Always good for a chuckle when they realise.
Except he had two metallic objects in his hands as he cane round the corner from procurement. They looked bulky, but he was carrying them with ease. One in each hand.
He let go of them when he got close, “I found the last two in stock, Mr Robertson!” His big grin encompassing his face, “They said I should look by the lost property, and there they were.”
They hung, unsupported, three foot off the ground.
I could see them clear as day. No wires, no tricks. They hung there, telling me that everything I ever knew about engineering was wrong.
I reached for the closest one. It was fixed in place. I tugged. It stayed where it was. I gave it a solid tug. Not a quiver.
Keeping one eye on him, I pulled myself up off the ground with it. I waited a good few seconds to make sure I wasn’t imagining it. He looked at me worried.
“Did I get the right things, Mr Robertson?
I let myself down to the floor.
“You did indeed, kid. Excellent work. You’re on special project duty today with me.”
“We’re going to build a flying car.” | 2020-11-30T17:04:58 | 2020-11-30T15:09:46 | 85 | 52 |
[WP] One day, time just suddenly stops for a short moment for you. At first, you tried to mess around, but after the 246th times it happened, you start to realise that your power is not stopping time, but being able to move in time frozen by another person in the world.
Just an idea that randomly popped up in my head. | 21st of May, 2023
It's been almost three months since we somehow managed to catch the legendary time freeze killer, and we've gotten nowhere figuring out how his powers work.
The fact that we managed to catch him in the first place seemed so weird. He just popped up in the middle of a bank vault and was quickly overpowered and detained. My only explanation is that there must be some kind of limit to his ability to stop time, or rather that he doesn't have full control of the ability. The trophies he kept on his person of his victims confirmed his guilt of the double murder one month prior.
It's clear that his sanity is quickly deteriorating in captivity. His control is getting worse, it seems. We've kept him in an as secure cell as we can, but several times he has almost managed to break out, only for him to pop up right in front of a guard. He is getting more and more paranoid, repeatedly screaming about murdering someone. We can't examine him properly, but everything points to the man he always talks about being another personality of his.
Lately, as his control weakens, his powers seem to have turned into a curse. Some mornings we find him severely dehydrated lying on the floor with his hands covered in dried blood, with bloodied dents and marks left on the cell door. I can't help but feel sorry for him, on the verge of death every other day and constant self-inflicted injuries. Even a man that brutally killed a woman and her son can't deserve this kind of torture. It's clear that he, at least now, is severely mentally ill, but we can't risk doing most medical examinations, nor are we able to communicate with him when he is being so uncooperative.
In the end, we can simply keep containing him and study the little information we have.
PS: One of the prison guards seem to have an unhealthy obsession with the prisoner. I've caught him smiling while listening to the prison staff gossiping about the prisoner when he thinks nobody sees him. I have a bad feeling about him. I recommend that the guard is reassigned before he gets a chance to cause trouble.
| At first I thought it was some sort of "dormant powers coming to light" kind of situation. I'd record what I was doing just before time froze and then try to recreate it to see if it could happen again. This eventually got worse as I would try to recreate hours, and then days at a time. Thankfully I realized that it wasn't anything I was doing and managed to stop myself before it became an obsession.
Nowadays I try to go with the flow whenever the Pauses occur. Sometimes its a couple of seconds, which only serves to have me trip over something that's suddenly stopped in front of me. Other times it's been upwards of three hours before things resumed and, during those Pauses, I try to get errands done that don't require some sort of live or active interactions. I can't play games online since the servers freeze, but I can go and grab groceries. Before you crucify me for being a thief, I've made it a habit to leave some cash behind for whatever I take. It may not be the FULL amount, but I aim for 75% at least.
I've tried finding out who it is that Pauses everything, but I haven't had any luck. There hasn't been anything on the news about miracles happening around the world, aside from the usual fluff pieces, and there haven't been any segments about rampant or elaborate crimes. Far as I've figured? Whoever it is that's causing these Pauses is just using them to make life a bit easier for themselves somehow. No need for me to go on some crusade to hunt them down when they haven't done anything to deserve it. | 2018-01-26T06:20:36 | 2018-01-26T06:14:06 | 69 | 45 |
[WP] New arrivals in eternal Hell may choose either of the following: a small wooden spoon, or a 100-trillion year vacation in Heaven. | "Spoon."
"But.. but why??"
He was perplexed. And rightly so. I mean, a person choosing a small and insignificant wooden spoon over a trillion year long vacation at the heavens was indeed perplexing. But this was not the point.
Over the course of his service, which had lasted for who knows how long, he had indeed seen one or two take up the spoon. But they had deliberated. Over weeks, months even! Thinking and thinking, over the purpose of this seemingly absurd choice. They had asked hundreds.. no thousands of questions to him.
"Is it some sort of trick?" (No.)
"Is this spoon special?" (No. It's just a wooden spoon)
"Are you really sending us to heaven?" (Yes.)
"Is the trillion year on heaven different from earth?" (No.)
On and on they asked. There had to be some catch, they had argued. Why else would hell, of all places, even pose this ridiculous question??
They were so convinced that there was something special about the spoon, in spite of being unable to prove thusly, that they had ended up choosing the spoon. Of course there was nothing special about it at all which they found out later, much to their regret. But at least their choosing of the said spoon made sense. At least they took their time, they argued, they deliberated. But this man?
He didn't even wait for a second.
"Spoon."
"But.. but why??"
"I like collecting spoons." | The man at the desk looks up at me, and says in a deep voice.
"You get a pick of a 100-trillion year vacation in Heaven or a wooden spoon."
"I'll take the vacation," I say confidently.
"I wouldn't pick that is I were you," Deep voice guy replies.
"I'll will still take the vacation," I reply.
Immediately I am transported to the pearly gates. I look around at all of the other people that chose the vacation. I also notice lots of tents with plenty of holes in them. I walk up to a guy in his thirties.
"We can't get in, right?" I ask.
"Sure as hell we can't," he replies.
"Well, that's just great." I mumble sarcastically to myself.
"Oh yeah, you have to go inside those gates over there for it to count as your time," he tells me while pointing over to a sign labeled heaven with gates around it.
"This just keeps getting better," I think to myself.
| 2015-06-07T22:50:03 | 2015-06-07T21:46:36 | 97 | 58 |
[WP] The morning after getting blackout drunk, you wake up to discover you've become stunningly attractive. Your one-night stand enters behind you. "Like what you see? It's one of a few fringe benefits you get out of our agreement. Now get dressed -- we have a long day ahead of us." | I stared at myself in the mirror, the very same I used to try and ignore to the best of my ability. But the woman staring back was flat-out *gorgeous*. She was taller, leaner, more symmetrical in every way - hell, she even did her makeup better than I did. With every move I made she followed as my hungover mind scrambled to grasp the concept that this was *me*.
A slurp from a coffee mug interrupted my routine. "Like what you see? It's one of a few fringe benefits you get out of our agreement. Now get dressed -- we have a long day ahead of us."
The man looked like he had stepped right out of my fashion catalog. Perfect jawline, sharp blue eyes, and muscles for days. What he was doing in my apartment I had no idea. Come to think of it, I hardly remembered a thing about the previous night.
Must have been pretty damn good.
I began to shuffle through my closet, quickly realizing nothing I owned would fit the new me. The man cleared his throat to get my attention, holding a nondescript white bag out for me. Inside lay a stunning black dress that hugged my body in all the right places, revealing just enough of my cleavage - I had cleavage now! - to pique anyone's interest.
He cleared his throat once more as I found myself lost in the mirror. "Ready? Like I said, we have a long day ahead of us."
I didn't bother asking how my figure had changed. Whether I'd sold my soul or otherwise, I could wait to know at least for a day. What this man had in store for us I had no clue, but my head dreamed of yacht parties, island vacations, all sorts of romantic getaways.
"So then, where is it you're taking me? What *long day* have you planned for us?" I asked, slowly walking towards him.
He smirked, pulling me close as his secrets began to unravel. "What, don't you remember what we discussed last night?
"We're going to steal the Declaration of Independence."
**********************
*If you like spooky stories, check out r/Zchxz!* | Embracing The Devil
****
I gazed upon my new reflection,
My skin, still old,
My hair, still white,
I looked at her without deflection,
My heart, still bold,
My mind, still bright,
"I see it now,
I see the light,
That burns within,
Eluded me,
The beauty that I always seeked,
The hunger that deluded me,
My eyes now see what others don't,
A beauty only hearts can find,
A magic that inspires love,
That rocks the soul and blows the mind."
"You're welcome, friend,
I care for you,
No God in Heaven ever will,
I came to Earth, ensnared your soul,
And made your love grow deeper still,
So come with me,
I'll show you more,
I'm not what I'm cracked up to be,
They spew their hate,
But here I am,
Despite the bad publicity,
I do what's right,
Yet they still pray,
To One who never answers calls,
Yet ages pass,
And I'm still here,
To prove this angel never falls,
So do the same,
And never quit,
And reach the doors of death with pride,
Stand your ground,
Keep your light, lit,
And trounce the doubters in your stride."
I hugged her tight,
And we held hands,
She'd filled my heart,
A gaping hole,
I'd seen the light,
And it was mine,
She didn't steal,
She freed my soul.
| 2017-08-22T05:33:06 | 2017-08-22T03:22:52 | 112 | 10 |
[WP] “I bet my soul,” you say confidently. “If you win, you take my soul. If I win, you give me something just as valuable.” You go on to win the bet, only to be granted a single $1 bill. | "HA, ignorant human you gamble with the currency of Gods. Are you sure this is wise?" Said the being made confusingly of both light and darkness. "First of all my name is Mike not human and what the hell has my soul done for me anyways?" Said Mike. "Since your mind has not broken at my mere presence i shall grant your request and refer to you as Mike. As for your soul, it has done far more than you can imagine. Even the most basic of souls are complex beyond mortal understanding, but in short souls make life possible without one you die." Replied the being. "If my soul is so amazing why is my life so shit? Just flip the damn coin already. If i win im rich and if i lose i suppose i die which doesnt sound so bad." Said Mike. "Hmm interesting." mused the being before stating. "As you wish Mike, call it in the air." "Heads shouted Mike."
Mike woke abruptly as his alarm started blaring. Damn that was one hell of a dream thought Mike. As he was getting out of bed a voice sounded in his head. "Congratulations Mike, heads was correct here is your prize. The frames a bonus for making the ultimate gamble as a mortal and cheer up Mike few mortals gamble with the Gods and win." A 1 dollar bill appeared in a picture frame mounted on the wall in front of Mikes bed. After getting over the shock of magically appearing objects Mike grew angry. "1 MEASLY FUCKING DOLLAR AND A LECTURE ON MY ATTITUDE TO BOOT!" Shouted Mike. "Ugghh what else is new my whole life has been a disapointment why should this surprise me."
Mike moved on with his depressing life and for the most part forgot about his gamble. He never got rid of the dollar bill though, somthing he couldnt explain compelled him to keep it. His life was rather uneventfull since his relentlessly mundane attitude prevented him from seeing what life had to offer. He failed to take the risks necessary to improve his life since he didnt see the point. He was offered a better job, but didnt want to go to the hassle of moving. His love life was nonexistant because women always hated his lack of ambition and self worth. It seemed to Mike that he would be forever depressed. He often thought that losing that bet would have been better. Things finally began to change when he met Sarah.
Mike was 65 when he met Sarah and life was finally starting to matter. After meeting Sarah Mike finally felt like he had a purpose. Sunlight had finally returned to the world. He had only known her for one week and she had made him try new things and escape his comfort zone. Unlike him she didnt have to struggle to be happy, she simply was and he loved that about her. One day while watching Sarah play with her grandchildren Mike decided he would marry her. She made him realize just how much his risk free life made miss out on. He refused to let her slip away aswell. Just as he was about to ask her to marry him a pain shot through his left arm and he collapsed on the carpet. The last thing he heard was Sarah's scream.
Mike woke abruptly as his alarm started blaring. "SARAH" He shouted glancing around at the unfamiliar room. As he started realizing that he was in his old bedroom his eyes locked on the frame on the wall in front of him. The 1 dollar bill was slowly disappearing before his eyes. The moment the bill was gone he heard a distant, but powerful voice. "THE DEBT IS PAYED THE DEAL IS COMPLETE. A SECOND CHANCE IS GRANTED, DON'T WASTE IT MIKE." | I didn’t understand this at first. Was this some sort of joke?!
I looked down at an all too common treasury note. I made more breathing at work then this. What made this all particularly more interesting was the way this devilish man glared at me, all the while smirking after I won. We had spent hours playing this game he had. It was in a leather bound box with ancient text on it.
Only problem was how easy it was to win. He always rolled low, while I skipped ahead as if all the luck in the world had possessed me. It wasn’t particularly hard. You rolled and moved, and whom ever got to the end first won, and I did.
Whatever it’s a dollar I didn’t have right?! I guess I can use it for something...
“That’ll be $1.09.” Said the cashier
“Can you spot me I only gots a dollar.” I said angrily
“Sure sweetie I’ll see you next week, sometime? I’ll make sure to have you’re drinks ready okay?” She replied in a concerning tone
I wanted to get home as quickly as I could. Not only was it cold out, but I was still slightly consumed by the thought of this man. Something about him wasn’t right. I went out back to smoke and out of thin air he was there. I swore his eyes were red at first. God that’s the weed talking I think. I just can’t shake this feeling.
Finally here I open the lock on the 12 story apartment building I lived in. Don, the front desk clerk greeted me as he always did. I swear he never isn’t working.
Wait did his eyes... Ugh I need to get to my room ASAP.
“Mr. Wheatley, welcome home you have a package that’s just arrived.” Don said
“I wasn’t expecting anything. Any idea who send it?”
Of course he doesn’t he isn’t omnipotent.
“No sir, but I think you should open it soon” whispered Don “It’s very urgent.”
I shook my head and made my way to the elevator.
“It’s nice to finally have you with us Mr. Wheatley.” Don replied as he smirked.
Okay what’s going on. Did his eyes... No, fuck no. I’m just.. I need to relax. Finally the elevator stopped, 9th floor apartment 122C. Three locks and I’m safe.
Now let’s see what’s inside this box. I’ve had enough for tonight. As I begin to unwrap this crudely wrapped box I see it. No god what no..! It’s leather and those can’t be. Along with the wrapping a letter fell that read ‘Welcome to the family. We’ve been waiting.’
“I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time Mr. Wheatley.”
It was the devilish man from earlier. How’d he get in. I locked up I swear!
“Nothing to be afraid of. He knows everything sir.” Don said as I turned to find him in my kitchen.
“Wh.. wa.. I don’t get it.” I say as my voice shakes.
“You will soon.” Don says quietly. “You will soon.” | 2020-02-05T14:32:52 | 2020-02-05T10:30:52 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to. | ​
I used to work as a salesman. I was good at it, but not as good as I could be. I used to say it was because I have a soul. I helped people get what they needed, not what I would make the most profit from.
​
The way I saw it, it would make them actually want to come back. Build a solid relationship and the business would flourish. But, my good intentions were tested. We were always given instructions on how to get the most out of the customers, and it got to me. It didn't change the way I worked, but as the years went by I felt more and more hollow. My work was useless. I didn't create anything, it was not important, and I was constantly pressured to take advantage of people.
​
Finally I quit.
I wanted meaning in my life. So I decided to become a teacher. What a mistake that was. Don't get me wrong, I love teaching. I love having something to do that actually matters. I help people, I comfort, I give life lessons.
But, and trust me on this, you have no idea what teaching is like. Everyone thinks they know, since everyone has gone to school, but you really don't.
It's exhausting. It can take everything you got, and still it will never be enough. There are always new tasks, something you have not done, not accomplished. Paperwork, endless amounts of paperwork, mind numbingly boring meetings and nothing ever works properly.
If it does work, it's instantly changed for something that dont. If you somehow manage to get sort of on top of things, you are given five new tasks, none of which you know how to do or have been given training for. Figure it out!
Every school is woefully underfunded, and eventually you understand it's meant to be that way. They are exploiting your work, and don't really care about the kids. Why should they? They don't really want them educated. They want them poor, uneducated and easily manipulated. After all, they don't send their own kids to public schools, oh no.
They, of course, deserve way better.
​
I guess I'm an idealist at heart. I want equality, I want people to have a fair chance. I want my life to matter. It got to me, it had to.
The first to notice was Sarah.
Sweet Sarah, so good natured she literally saw nothing wrong with anyone. So kind, and so gifted.I knew I had hit the jackpot when we fell in love, she really was everything a man could hope for. She would leave small notes for me to find whenever she left on some work for a couple of days. Telling me how much she loved me, how much she enjoyed my company, and sometimes there were riddles I had to solve to find some hidden gift.
Sarah always had boundless energy. I did not, and as more and more work was heaped on me I started to stay more and more at home.That was a problem. I did not realize how much of a problem until it was too late. It's not like she just gave up on me.
She gave plenty of hints. There were talks, there were arguments, but my mind was a fog I could no longer navigate. Tired, always so tired.
​
She left.
She met him while we were together. I think I was even there the first time they met. I saw nothing through my fog. She married him, had a kid.I'm happy for her. She deserves to be happy. After all, she still is the best person I have ever known. I'm bitter though...not at her but at me. Somehow I messed up even if my intentions were good. I was trying to be good at my job, make growing up a little easier for the kids at the school, and my prize was despair.
It was good though. Gave me time to work. I coped with my loss by working. Always working. Most of my friends were Sarahs friends as well, and anything connected to her was painful, and easy to ignore. My parents had died when I was fairly young so there really was no one who needed me except at work. I loved work, or at least, I loved my time in the classroom.
I guess that's why they collected me. Who would care about me missing?
I don't know how long I was lost in thought, how long my flashback lasted. But I noticed the shocked silence following the PA announcement.
It floods back to me, why I'm here and what they are about to do.Something breaks.I can feel it, hear it even. Something went wrong inside me. A release. Im filled. I have found meaning.
A sound is making itself known, it takes a few moments before I realized it's me.
I'm laughing.
Suddenly there is plenty of space around me...I'm scaring people. It makes me laugh all the harder. I look up at the windows. At the true enemy.
I am a teacher.
I'm about to teach a lesson. | I sat still through the PA announcement, through the resulting chaos as people tried to find an escape.
I followed silently as we were herded down a dark corridor into a much larger enclosure lined by concrete walls but open to the sky above. Around us, I saw weapons on metal racks, sharp edges catching the glint of early morning light as the sun turned the skies orange. Far above us, lined with what I could only assume was bulletproof glass, boxes jutted out from the walls; inside, people in expensive clothes milled about, staring down their noses at us, some with opera glasses.
Around me, some people were crying, but I paid them no mind. Others, the bolder or more survival-minded ones, were already edging toward the weapons racks, even though nothing had been announced yet about what was expected of the souls with me. Soon enough, there would no doubt be a mad dash to be the first with a weapon, to be one who could defend themselves from the merriment our watchers believed was coming.
I closed my eyes for a moment; breathed in the wet morning air; let the smell of the dirt and vegetation around me fill my senses. Beneath me, I could feel the earth thrumming; they had built walls to trap us in here, but the dirt under my bare feet went deep.
Good.
Screaming started around me as the ground shook; a crack appeared in the concrete wall beside us. I tuned in on the frequencies I needed, honed what the vibrations told me was necessary, and was gratified when I also saw worry form on some faces in the stands as the glass boxes began to crumble. Another crack formed, splitting vertically to a box on my left, and their worry shifted to panic as the box jolted and bulged toward the arena.
Guards poured out of openings in the walls now, weapons trained on the throng of people around me. Some of those with me attacked these newcomers with the weapons from the racks, and were mowed down with automatic gunfire.
*Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-a-tat-tat-tat.*
I took that rhythm, those staccato blasts, and weaved them in. The air around me began to vibrate, and before anyone could stop me, I sent those frequencies, those percussive notes, deep into the ground beneath me, straight to the tense dance of plates beneath me.
The earth responded before the first bodies hit the ground.
Beneath the concrete walls, soil and rock erupted from the ground, jolting the entire structure surrounding us up several uneven feet into the air. It came back down but not altogether and not all at once. Large sections broke off; glass boxes toppled, shattered, and collapsed in on themselves. Around me, all humans fell to the ground, unable to keep their feet in the tumult.
I was the only one left standing. But then, I wasn’t human.
Section by section, the walls fell, disintegrated, imploded. Guards and onlookers were crushed; a few poor souls who tried to run through the open areas guards had come through became casualties themselves.
So be it.
Beyond the walls, I could almost feel the attempts to escape, the cars and other vehicles moving fast away. Balling up a fist, I drove it into the ground, my knuckles smacking on the wet grass. To onlookers, it appeared a futile gesture, but the ground beneath us dropped several inches and two hundred feet away a flat mass of earth flew upwards, slinging cars high into the air and catching a helicopter taking off so that it overturned, it’s rotors breaking apart and Alicia g through the air.
I closed my eyes again, settling to my knees and sitting on my heels, hands palm-up on my thighs as I took deep breaths, feeling the destruction around me. In my minds eye, the lilting sound of a child’s laughter wafted across the air, and I allowed myself a smile at the sound.
*You are avenged, my son,* I thought, allowing the memories of my Andrew to overwhelm me as all around, concrete walls burst and sprayed dust across us all. Most of the screaming had stopped, the people too terrified by what was happening to react at all. A few were looking at me now; I could feel their gazes on me as if my eyes were open and I was staring straight at them.
My job, however was done. With a little sigh, I pressed both palms to the soil and let the earth swallow me once again. Screams came from those around me, but they we were only waves in the soil, mixed with the destruction of those who had killed my only son. | 2021-10-31T01:49:07 | 2021-10-30T23:08:35 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] "I WILL NOT LISTEN TO THIS ANY LONGER" "But Your Majesty, the prophe-" "You want me to send a GODDAMN TEENAGER TO FIGHT WHEN WE HAVE TRAINED SOLDIERS" | "You want me to send... a child. A literal, actual, child?" The king shook his head. "My predecessor may have been fond of child soldiers, master prophet, but I am not."
"But surely, surely you cannot allow the entire kingdom to fall? The prophecy-"
"DAMN THE PROPHECY! We walked away from that cursed place, we chose to be better and DAMN IT!"
"So, what shall you do? You cannot hope to defeat the dark lord! Once you call prophecy from the gods it *must come true*, that's how this works. If you learn of the future it becomes written!"
The king slumped in his throne. He knew, he knew all of this. He'd learned it in the pristine academy when he was younger, his eldest brother's sacrifice for their former nation granting his family a lot of privilege.
"You cannot defeat him, sire."
The king breathed a sigh as dire as grave wind.
"There are... other ways to neutralize a threat".
The priest looked confused, and watched with some trepidation as the king began to call forth scribes and calligraphers, sending messengers to his court.
The priests eyes widened as he realized.
"YOU MEAN TO TRY DIPLOMACY? With that, that fiend?!"
The king looked to be a hundred years old in that moment, the vim and vigor of his young 20's completely lost.
"I *will* save my people. I *will not* allow another Omelas to rise on my soil. The monarchy, this monarchy, is finished. Perhaps it is for the best. One man should not have this much power over the lives of so many. In that, our dark lord is correct."
"So you mean to form an alliance?"
"Alliance? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Diplomatically we will have more options. We can win more time. He has shown himself to be open to negotiations witother nations. I cannot defeat him. But I will *not* doom a child to suffer in my stead. If I fail, it will be my burden. I will leave my people the tools to stand without me, and if I fail they will be left the means to try again."
The king rose, his confident posture and determination returning.
"I am no longer a hero, nor was I ever truly one. In fact, if my brother still lived, he'd probably call me a coward, or worse. But... but I cannot allow what you suggest. But a diplomat? This... this perhaps I can do." | "Okay ya know what... fuck you". I said finally tired of his shit.
"We all wipe your ass daily and you want to send everyone to die???" I continued while he was to dumbstruck to act. "Our teenagers have alot in common and since you didn't even fucking TRY diplomacy properly."
I expected the guards to strike me down swiftly for dare challenging the king. But instead the dozen honor guards just started laughing until they were almost doubled over.
"About time someone put that little shit in his place. My brother was telling that the "darklord" actually accepts their peoples union and lives no better than any of her subjects."
"A WOMAN!!! YOU ARE ALL SCARED OF A WOMAN!!!"
The king raged.
"Show some respect for your betters you whiny little shit. Its about time you grow up."The guard closest to the king smacked him in the back of his head.
"Ya know what...." The lead soldier said "who needs this asshole" as he spoke he ripped the king from his throne and flung him across the room."
"You want the job sir?" The captain asked.
"Hell no look what it did to that asshole." I said waving my hand. "Beside he didn't actually do anything anyways just made others do the work and took the credit."
"Good point." As the captain spoke another guard came forward ending a call on his cellphone.
"So called my brother and the Darklord started crying she was so happy he said. They are throwing a celebration party and we are all invited!!!"
"How did they throw that together so fast?" The captain asked?
"Turns out they have been prepared for an eternity. They were just waiting for us to figure things out."
"Sweet" said the guards in unison.
One of the younger guards spoke up "but who will guard the castle?"
"Who cares we are turning it into housing for all the people anyways." | 2022-10-28T15:24:51 | 2022-10-28T07:51:12 | 127 | 31 |
[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- | Immortality can be a blessing and a curse. I enjoy watching as humans make new advancements and slowly discover every secret the world has to offer. But an immortal life is a lonely one. At first you don't think about the fact that any friend you make will eventually die and leave you behind.
I was only ever in one relationship. I loved Katheryne with all my heart but as I watched my friends die around me, I could not imagine the pain her death would cause me. I left her under the pretence of moving away in the name of scientific research. She was sad but very understanding.
I often wondered if she had a happy life Eventually the pain dulled but she never quite left my mind. Every year, on the anniversary of the day I left, I would light a candle in her memory.
It's been a few hundred years. And yet here I was, in the local store, looking for a candle to light the next day. I greeted the cashier when I entered. I've been living here for a few years and me and Arthur struck up a casual friendship.
"Ah, Charles, we've just had renovations done, so if you're looking for candles, they're now in the 5th isle instead."
I was about to thank him, when a voice interrupted me.
"Charles?"
I turn around just to come face to face with Katheryne who was holding a candle in her hand. She looks as surprised as I feel. There's a lump in my throat that won't let me say a word. We stare at each other for a while. I'm still not sure who moved first, but we end up embracing each other, holding on for dear life.
I can feel my shirt damped and so I gently move away to take her face into my hands and brush the tears away.
"Hello, Katheryne."
I knew what I had to do. I invited Katheryne for dinner and while waiting for our orders I excused myself, saying I had to go to the bathroom. As soon as I was out of sight I ran faster than I ever did in my life. Ten minutes later, I was back. If Katheryne was surprised to see me out of breath she didn't have time to mention it.
I dropped on one knee. | 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. | 2022-12-08T09:37:00 | 2022-12-08T08:13:01 | 198 | 14 |
[WP] We were taught the Sun didn't make noise. We were wrong. Like TV static in an empty room, it did make a sound, a sound so ever present that we didn't realize it was there until it wasn't. That day humanity learned the terror of a silent sky, and the reason it made sound in first place. | "Are you insane?" Asked Emet, a man who saw daily life from afar, as if disconnected from himself. Everything went by slowly.
"No," answered Aria.
Last week had been weird.
Acoustics was a pet peeves of theirs. He loved heavy metal, she loved the violin, and both were smart enough to get into research. Work had been underwhelming, but secure and well-paid, which was more than many researchers could say.
And then, Aria, made a breakthrough.
They had built a silent room, a human sitting there could hear the air flowing through the thrachea, the blood pulsing at the temples, the heart beating. No one held it more than half an hour in the room.
And still, recordings came back with some sort of sound on it, which angered Aria to no end. Emet didn't care all that much, happy to be paid and content in a life devoid of great discoveries.
But Aria hadn't let go of it.
Superiors hardly cared what they did, as long as they meeted expectations. And Emet went along to pass time.
One after the other, they singled out and got rid of superfluous sounds, until they found what could only be described as a low and constant static.
A static that, once isolated, interfered with machines and, even stranger, other sounds. Playing it over Iron Maiden killed the sound of electric guitar. On the opposite side of the scale, violin songs became extremely loud, without touching any dial.
By then, Emet had seen enough and was ready to send the result to superiors and call it a day. Aria on the other hand, had caught the spark. The flame of madness, when science became the alpha and omega.
Today, she unveiled her contraption to her colleague.
"It's a radio transmitter."
"No. It's a radio de-transmitter."
"Oh," said Emet, before taking a bite from his sandwich.
"I found something. That static, I wondered why it kept fucking up everything we played on the radio. It's weird, but I found it easier to consider it an electric current. Moving unlike anything we know, but electricity nonetheless."
"And that thing..."
"Is about to push the off button and see what happens."
That's when he asked her if she had gone nuts. They both knew they were in unknown territory, and they lacked the secure conditions to play it out correctly.
"Come on," she said playfully, it's just a test."
Her words brought him suddenly back to the present, to the instant.
Aria pushes the lever.
Emet tells her to stop.
Emet shouts for her to turn the machine off.
Emet screams.
He's right next to her, the scream should deafen and hurt her ears. She doesn't notice, never will.
The silence is hungry. Its stomach a void sucking substance from noise.
The silence is eating away Aria's thoughts, it sinks her fantasy into its formless maw, snuffs out emotion after emotion, and once it is done with the immaterial, it goes on to matter. it murders the rules dictating bodies, Arya's hand has five fingers, it has four, it has six, the body loses flesh and symmetry as silence eats the substance. And it will not be satiated.
Humanity holds its breath. Rather, it has its breath held for it. Oxygen is lost in the black hungry hole, buildings are broken into atoms, neutrons, protons, and broken further still. As bodies lose substance, it isn't long before they start breaking down in the same way.
Mothers and fathers fight the paralysis with all they have, which is nothing. nothing that isn't whisked away in an instant. Courage, fear, wrath, despair, love, it is all devoured before they know. Babies recognize the emptiness, their brains still remember before, a before of nothing, defined by silence.
Through luck, or perhaps a flicker of rage the void hasn't seen, Emet manages to fall forward onto the lever and turn the machine off.
Sound comes back, as does air and life.
A scream deafens him, Aria is holding her right hand, which holds a dozen thumbs wriggling and waggling uncontrollably. She throws a towel on it, to spare her eyes. She still feels every thumb through her nerves, the flappy skin on her face, disconnected from muscles and sinews, it takes all her willpower to not succumb to the overflowing sensations and lose herself to madness.
Emet leaves her to the inner fight, happy to feel no difference on him. Composure and calm made him go back to his usual self, seeing the world from afar, as if all was already in the past.
Other humans weren't as lucky.
The news painted them both as insane lunatics who would have condemned the world to a silent doom. They couldn't understand how the experiment wasn't meant to have such an effect on a scale so wide. It didn't matter. Children died, went mad, were broken beyond repair. As did many adults and monuments.
The damage done was so extreme that, for the first time, humanity seemed united in its hate for Emet and Aria.
That is, until the background became louder. If humans never noticed it before, and felt the absence, now it couldn't stop hearing it.
Both scientists were released under heavy surveillance. They had equipment and knowledge to analyse it. Not really, but despair pushed governments to use every tool at their disposal to understand why a low buzz permeated from the deepest crevasse to the ISS.
"What do we do now?" Asked Aria, caressing the stump of her ablated hand like a lucky charm.
"How would I know?" Emet answered loudly, to get over the damn static.
In truth, he knew. In the worldwide panic and hate that had followed the event, he had fallen back into contemplation and waited for things to pass. Observing everything, and nothing. The world, the sky, the stars.
He had noticed the constellations moving around.
Not like buildings breaking during the silence. This came afterwards. And the movements seemed to almost make sense, when seen as a whole. There was a parallelism, a geometric sense to the act.
And there was the heat.
"Are we responsible for the temperature too?" asked Aria, sweating despite being dressed lightly.
"Seeing how the sun got bigger, I guess so."
"You're joking, right?"
He wasn't. Like the stars, the sun was moving. Or the earth, he had yet to find out exactly.
They worked. He observed and analysed the sky, she went back to the sound, unfazed by her lacking hand. Every hour, they reported to the superior officer.
The scientific world worked hard too, confirming Emet's observations.
"Oh God," he said when putting down the phone.
This was not the phone call he wanted to receive.
"What is it?"
They didn't have to choose between the sun and earth.
Both were moving.
The sun towards them, while the earth went in the opposite direction.
"That's a laconic explanation"
"That's how he explained it on the phone. I think the dude was terrified."
It didn't scare Aria. Rather, a light went up in her head.
"Help me out, I need a hand."
"Yeah, no kidding."
They brought out the radio de-transmitter, much to Emet's chagrin. Aria had a hunch, and he had unwillingly confirmed it. In the constant and annoying noise, she wondered if this was the same static as they had isolated.
Her method hadn't changed, take one sound, strip it bare until she found the core she searched for.
And she found several.
Including very slight variations.
She had another hunch for what it was, but refused to tell. Emet could see she was afraid and hoped really hard to be wrong.
When they activated and immediately deactivated a modified radio de-transmitter, they had the answer. | The bulldozer rumbled down the road slightly faster than a walking man, spewing black fumes out into the even blacker day. It was loud, but the noise was familiar, comforting. Tommy’s ear plugs lay some miles behind him, abandoned not long after the sun had winked out and the road crew had fractured apart, every man for themselves.
Tommy had only paused for a moment. He’d glanced back at his boss, then west down Route 50, and he’d decided that, if the sun could go out, the road didn’t need repaving all that badly anyway.
He’d been driving for the better part of an hour since then, and Tommy estimated he had another two to go. He hoped Maddy and the kids hadn’t been out when it happened. They’d argued before he left that morning, and truthfully the night before as well, and when they argued she tended to find reasons to go into town for a cup of coffee and a lunch she hadn’t been the one to make.
“Come on baby,” Tommy said, slapping the bulldozer’s rusty controls, trying to urge a little more speed out of the behemoth.
It didn’t work. The machine went at its own pace, and Tommy, never a man to be left alone with himself, could only watch, and wait, and steer.
It was not entirely dark, though Tommy had no word for what little light there was. By its dull silver-gray he could see other motorists from time to time. Most had pulled to the side of the small two lane road. One, at the switchback bend of a mountain, had simply stopped in the middle of his lane.
All of them stood outside their cars, mouths agape, staring up into the darkened sky.
They were stupid, Tommy decided. Stupid or cowardly, folk too simple to adapt to the situation like Tommy himself had. He wasn’t about to be one of them. Nothing would stop him short of home, and if Maddy and the kids weren’t there, short of wherever they were. For all of Tommy’s faults, and there were very, very many, he loved his family.
He passed the time as he’d always thought he should; rehearsing apologies. Tommy couldn’t even remember what they’d been arguing about the night before. He’d been drinking, he always did, and it had spilled over to the morning when he refused to even admit that he didn’t know why they were fighting.
Tommy resolved that if he somehow saw wildflowers through the unnatural ocean of night around him, he would allow himself to stop for that. Maddy loved flowers, and try as he might he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten her any.
Tommy drove on. Near John Blue bridge the motorists were thicker, two cars had actually stopped side by side, blocking the way. They were small, imported things, made more of plastic than of steel and he pushed them both out of the way with ease. Their drivers didn’t look at him as he did, not even when one of them crashed up against the guardrail on the far side and then broke through, falling with a sickening crunch and splash into the river beneath. The drivers stood there, transfixed at the bridge’s center, looking up.
It was colder without the sun, but Tommy broke out in a feverish sweat at that. They’d reminded him of dead drunk men, focused on the one girl in the bar they knew they could never have, eyes glazed over with imaginings and a crippling lack of shame.
Tommy had never lacked shame himself. It was part of the problem with Maddy.
He drove on still, two hours left became one. One became minutes, and soon he was trundling up the drive to the trailer turned house that Maddy’s father had gifted them when they married. Her car was in the yard. The kids' bikes were there as well. Tommy breathed a long, shaking sigh of relief.
He stopped the bulldozer a few feet from the door, mourning his lack of flowers. Three hours in the dark and he’d never come up with anything better than blind luck, and even that had failed him. But he was home, and so was she, and that, in a world gone mad, was all that mattered.
“Maddy?” Tommy called. “Maddy?”
He leapt down from the bulldozer’s seat and caught a glimpse of strawberry blond through the trees on the garden path. Maddy, and both the kids. They stood stock still, staring straight up at the sky.
She wore her favorite dress, the one she’d spent too much money on the year before, and that they’d argued over for days after. She wore it like a badge of honor, its fall across the swell of her hips cutting at him with the remembered weight of things he’d said.
Even with that, she looked shockingly beautiful. She always did.
“Maddy!” he shouted. Then, “Lindsay? John?”
None of them responded. Maddy’s mouth fell open slightly. She swayed from side to side, as if caught in beat of distant music.
Behind him, the bulldozer sputtered and died. Its roar rang through Tommy’s ears for a few moments longer as he ran towards his family. He reached them, taking Maddy in his arms. She felt small, fragile. Her head lolled back when he shook her, she didn’t respond to her name, either her real one or the old pet name he’d used in the dark since high school.
The ringing faded, the last notes of the bulldozer died, and Tommy began to hear something else.
There was a subtle wrongness in the world, an absent ache. He couldn’t place it, only feel it, like he’d been to the quick of a body part he’d never known he had.
“Maddy?” Tommy said one last time.
In the wake of her name, a song whispered into being. It was no music Tommy had ever heard, a thing made of notes men hadn’t discovered. It thrilled through him, then settled into his muscles like the lazy ache of a long day’s work. It called his gaze up, towards the sky he’d never even looked at once since the sun went out, too focused had he been on the road home and the family who now stood transfixed before him.
Tommy turned, arm slipping unconsciously around his wife’s waist, and he saw the thing that sang.
It was the moon, peeking too early over the horizon. It was a great disk of blacks and grays and silvers, and the voice was unquestionably its own. It forced its way into him, expanding into a great and terrible beauty as his warmth bled out and his muscles grew slack, his face pale.
He realized then, that Maddy was shaking faintly. Tommy tried to turn himself back towards her. He failed. He tried to say a million things, a million apologies as the moon rose too fast on the horizon, as it expanded and grew and its song drove the ring of heavy machinery out of his ears.
He couldn’t say any of them.
“I…love…you…” Tommy said instead, struggling out the words.
The song rose to a crescendo in his mind. They were the last words Tommy ever said.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-08-28T11:00:46 | 2021-08-28T09:49:47 | 127 | 88 |
[WP] Out of all possible familiars, you are "Graced" with a human. While legend says that they are beings of great power, yours just makes sarcastic comments and pranks people. | "Rise, Sernethis."
Wearily, I gathered my four legs beneath me and stood, doing my best to hold my head proud against the weight of the heavy iron collar and chain that fought to drag it back down again. My wings, however, hung limp at scaled flanks; the pain of attempting to fold them was simply beyond my ability to overcome it. I did not complain, however: It is law that they be broken to prevent my escape for a crime as heinous as mine.
The court was lined with other dragons: Quads, hexes, the serpent-like with no legs at all. All of dragonkind was represented by elected leaders of their kind. Grim expressions regarded me, but none so severe as that of Lumos, the white dragon towering almost twice as tall as the next smallest of the council. His lips curled back, exposing even rows of bright, sharp teeth.
"You have found guilty of the most terrible of all crimes: The murder of your own familiar. There is no doubt of your guilt, for not only was their murder witnessed by a score of dragons in the city of Rrannensath, you have openly and willingly admitted the crime." The white dragon leaned down, eyes narrowed. "It is only by due process that I must ask you if you wish to change your plea and explain your actions."
"I do not," I said without hesitation, wincing against the pain in my wings. "And you all know precisely my motivation. The familiar of a dragon is supposed to be a creature of worth, strength, respect, a faithful companion." I spat the last two words from my muzzle like so much soured meat. "The travesty I was 'gifted' was nothing of the sort."
A small lick of flame escaped the nostrils of Lumos. "A familiar is more than just what you expect of it. It is also there to challenge you to become more than who you were before you received it. It is your duty to handle their foibles, encourage them along the appropriate path."
I could not suppress the snort that escaped my throat. "Foibles? I tended to the creature for five years, and among other things during that time it sparked an outright civil conflict between the Prangnari and the Eoosa, caused an entire village to be burned to the ground, and almost killed one member of the council presiding today!" I flicked my muzzle towards Grefnennen, a small green bipedal dragon whose one eye regarded me steadily, the other a mess of scar tissue. "In the name of what? A prank! A *joke*!" I lunged against my restraints, the metal biting painfully into my hide.
The great white dragon rumbled. "We of the council are aware of all of this. But it was also your failing that resulted in these situations. It is your duty to ensure that your familiar is under your control at all times."
"And my duty is precisely the reason I tore his head off!" I exploded. "There was no redeeming the creature! His mind was broken the moment he came to be! If you dare to stand before me and suggest that I failed in my duty, in my efforts - and not only my own, but of the greatest minds of dragonkind who repeatedly attempted to assist me and yet failed time and time again - then my death will be a welcome one!"
For a long moment there was only silence. Finally, Lumos spoke once more. "We thought you ready for the challenge."
I stared up at the great dragon. "Your eminence, for all of your wisdom and knowledge, you thought wrong." An audible gasp escaped a few of the dragons watching from the gallery in the upper levels, but I forged on. "You challenged me, indeed. And I even went so far as to breach the laws of Merhensis and sought knowledge from the history of the creature itself, travelling the threads of time at my own peril. I saw the stock from which this creature came. I witnessed the depravity of their existence! They were born to serve only one purpose: Destruction. Their own, and that of whatever they came in contact with." I gestured to myself with a foreclaw. "My own end included. To allow such a creature to persist in our midst would have been the undoing of us all. I did what was necessary. I will pay the price for it. Not willingly, but honorably and at peace knowing that what I did was right. For all of us."
A few of the council turned to each other to murmur quietly, but Lumos remained silent, regarding me steadily. He raised a large claw, and the council fell silent. His jaw opened, and for a moment he paused. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head.
"Sernethis, for the murder of your familiar, you are sentenced to oblivion."
And I was no more. | ######[](#dropcap)
The Day Of Unveiling is a momentous occassion in the life of every Dothorian.
When a Dothorian lives for 10 years beyond the moment of its spawning, a companion is revealed to it. The companion of a Dothorian is paired for life, and Dothorian's live an extraordinarily long time.
Gra'l'tavek awaits the revelation of his life long familiar. As the youngest sapling of his brood, Gra'l'tavek is also the last to have his companion's identity revealed to him.
Gra'l'tavek's friends surround him at his Unveiling ceremony, already paired with a host of astonishing creatures - beasts of all shapes and sizes - hairy and bald, tentacled and handed, flying and slithering, lithe and rotund. The possibilities for a Dorthorian life companion were limitless, and each had it's own strengths and weaknesses, as befit a familiar.
Now the moment neared, and Gra'l'tavek tensed his chest cavity, compressing his pores, and sucking his respiratory tendrils inside himself, beneath the hard bark of his exterior. As the room counted down to the precise second of his spawning, Gra'l'tavek closed his single monstrous eye and hoped beyond hope, for a great familiar.
"...two, one, zero!"
Beside Gra'l'tavek the air began to shimmer, and then coalesce in blue waves of energy-rich particles. Slowly the familiar took form, two long legs, a torso, two arms. *Hands! So it would be handed!* thought Gra'l'tavek excitedly.
Then a small neck and a round head appeared, with two eyes and a breathing hole, and then a second orifice for ingestion as well as breathing.
Gra'l'tavek's excitement collapsed like a dying star, his chest cavity loosening, and his respiratory tendrils sinking sadly toward the ground. He defecated silently, releasing a stream of bright green algal slime from the four fecal pores at the base of his trunk, as was the wont of his race when sadness overwhelmed them.
No Dothorian present blamed Gra'l'tavek for his unseemly show of emotion. He was a young sapling, and he had just been dealt the worst possible hand.
Gra'l'tavek's new familiar looked down at himself and exalted in his own nudity, even though his new body wasn't particularly impressive. Then, he looked around the room and made a high pitched noise, feigning terror, followed by an unbroken five minutes of laughter.
When the laughter mostly subsided, the familiar said. "Holy crap, what the hell *are* you guys?!" The familiar spoke through spasms of laughter; "Jesus, look at this guy" the familiar pointed to the father of Gra'l'tavek, whose fully matured trunk was beginning to enter the final stage of Dothorian morphology, Deliquescence, slowly melting around the edges, until the father of Gra'l'tavek would fully rejoin the biosphere.
Callously, the familiar dipped a finger into Gra'l'tavek's father's primordial slime and flung a clump of it to the ground. "Christ, he's falling apart, this dude." The familiar smelled his wet finger and recoiled, "aww, and he stinks." Then his attention was drawn to Gra'l'tavek himself, who had begun a renewed bout of defecation, his embarrassment overwhelming his self control. "Oh man, are you crapping green slime?! You're just crapping everywhere? In front of everyone? That's disgusting!"
The familiar's stomach rumbled slightly and he marched off out of the room, looking for food. "You guys have any nachos? I would love some nachos right now? I guess clothes too, if you got 'em. But like, no big deal if you don't."
As the familiar went on, making unhelpful and offensive observations, and ignorant statements about Dothorian biology, the other Dothorians slowly left, each secretly overjoyed not to have ended up with the only familiar universally despised by everyone: the dreaded Human Being.
******
#### For More Legends From The Multiverse
#### r/LFTM
******
##### For those of you who thought to yourself after reading this, "Boy, I would really love to know more about the Dothorians and the planet from which they hail," I have added an appendix on the Dothorians and Dothor in the comments below. | 2018-03-20T17:50:14 | 2018-03-20T15:32:53 | 101 | 75 |
[WP] You're abducted by aliens & soon realize it's more of an adoption than an abduction. You're now a pet for a loving alien family. They can't understand you but they seem to understand your body language & have basic knowledge of what humans need to live and entertain themselves when they're busy | The three aliens smiled and hugged and tossed me an inflatable pool toy.
“Thanks, I guess,” I said. “It’s a flamingo.”
“Gorp, Bulargheraw!” the smallest alien said.
That’s Gorp. From what I gather, He (she?) is the equivalent of a moody, alien teenage girl. He’s got four tentacles the size of elephant trunks and a brain encapsulated in a spherical done—like something straight out of Futurama.
The oldest, largest, and smelliest alien sighed. “Gorp grable—Gardgle blather!”
That’s Gorp’s father—and he probably scolded Gorp for wasting intergalactic credits on *yet another inflatable pool toy.* I have a collection of them now. I think they enjoy watching me blow them up and then throw them across the room in frustration.
We don’t have a pool.
I shouldn’t gripe. Honestly, Gorp isn’t that bad. He takes pretty good care of me—even dotes on me—like I’m the tiniest, fluffiest Pomeranian in a Pomeranian store. This is complete speculation, but I also believe I’m considered ‘spoiled’ relative to other abducted humans.
I met another human on a walk; this homeless guy from Seattle didn’t have a single pool toy. I’ve got five. So that’s something. To be fair—that guy could be a wild human—it’s a bit hard to tell these days.
Planet ZorpZoop (I’m not making that up, I swear) is fairly hospitable. The aliens don’t need much for an environment; their think trunks protect them from most everything. Instead, they terraformed it to vary from a lush Panamanian jungle to a boggy Georgian swamp. They even threw some alligators in there for good measure.
I’m terrified of alligators.
Also water.
I’m glad we don’t have a pool.
Glorp’s mother is another story altogether. From what I gather, their household is completely matriarchal. Anything she says is the word of law.
*“Gorp, slee wekanwakan!”* is a common phrase. From what I gather, it’s something akin *to “you disappoint me!”*
Gorp’s trunks get all deflated whenever she says this, and I’ll go over and pat his brain-shield and whisper soothing things in his voice receptacle. He has no idea what I’m actually saying, but his trunks sometimes pat me back, which I assume means I did a good thing.
Gorp’s father feeds me regularly. They’ve got a matter replicator that I used once to make myself a bowl of Lucky Charms. This horrified them. They don’t let me touch the replicator anymore, but every once in a while, Gorp sneaks me a bowl of the sugary treat. Classic Gorp.
Instead, twice a day, Gorp’s father gets me a pound of sliced ham, a milkshake, and a BLT sandwich. He lathers the whole thing in ranch dressing. Who puts ranch on a BLT? You’d have to be some kind of alien to think that’s a good idea.
They get me vitamin supplements too. I’m not sure how they managed to figure it out, but they hand me a bottle of Flintstone gummies every month. I hope that somewhere on the alien internet there’s a clickbait guidebook on *“10 things you’d never guess about keeping a human. #7 will shock you!”* and that flintstone gummies are number four, or something.
Pool toys are probably number three.
Alligators are hopefully not on that list.
Life is pretty casual. I mostly sit on the couch and watch old western movies. Alien TV has great reception, and every once in a long while I’ll tune in to a modern sitcom drama to watch how other humans are portrayed. Most seem to be worse off than I am. Some better, some with pools and other with alligators.
But I have Gorp, and Gorp has me, and that’s perfectly mediocre.
​
***
More mediocre comedy at r/BLT_WITH_RANCH
Edit: Glorp is Gorp's nickname... probably. | When the alien invasion of October 31, 2038 came, it was nothing that the people of 1938 who had broadcast *War of the Worlds* exactly 100 years thence could have imagined.
Rather than a massive fleet of alien ships come to destroy our cities and ravage our crops, a single hovercraft, not even that much bigger than a Boeing 747, hovered about 500 metres above the ground, simply scanning and surveying the ground.
At the time, I was lying in a cardboard box. The company I was employed by had shut down last week, and I had nowhere to live while I looked for another job. I had no parents or girlfriend to help give me a place to crash, and so I had started to descend into homelessness.
Thus, I was one of the first people who wasn’t a member of NASA or the American military to see the craft hovering in the air.
I watched as this solitary craft weaved across the streets of Pittsburgh, like it was looking for a dropped wallet or something.
Finally, it started to reach the street I was on. I cranked my neck to get a better look at the underside of the craft. At this point, about twice the usual number of people were on the streets, looking up at the strange spacecraft and wondering what it was here for. People from other towns wouldn’t have had time to get here yet, and only local police would be available to disperse crowds.
Suddenly the craft swept its way to directly above my head... and stopped.
I got a pretty good look directly at the bottom surface that way... although at that moment I was looking around, wondering who or what next to me the craft was interested in.
Suddenly, a beam of light appeared that shot directly onto my cardboard box.
For a few seconds, I didn’t know how to react, then I realized that I was probably going to find out first hand how it felt to be beamed up and abducted.
Neither of those happened quite yet. Instead of me suddenly feeling like I was floating up, I heard the inexplicably familiar sound of a rip cord, getting louder and louder as it neared me somehow.
Then, right next to me, something that looked like a large mechanical hand fell, dangling three feet off the ground. This hand had five spindly fingers, that weren’t quite in the shape of a hand, but rather, equally spaced around a circle like an arcade claw. The bottom “finger” had what appeared to be a large disc on its tip. I looked up, and it looked like the mechanical hand was hanging by a 500-metre cord up into the UFO above.
Everybody was frozen in awe and observation at that moment, because it was something they’d never seen before, and absolutely nobody knew how to act. And while I was staring curiously up at the cord, the hand made its move and swiftly grabbed me at five points. All five fingers locked themselves into the disc on the tip of the bottom finger and tightened, latching tight to my shoulders, my waist, and between my legs like a safety harness, the disc now pressing against my back like a stretcher on a rescue lift.
Suddenly my reflexes came back, and I struggled to either pull off or slide out of the thing that had just unceremoniously clamped itself around me — but it wouldn’t budge. They’d covered all the points, and nothing was slipping out of that claw.
In that moment, some people standing next to me came back to their senses, and tried to run over to help. Then, like a tape measure slurping itself back into its reel, I felt myself being yanked up toward the craft. Nobody had made it towards me in that moment, and nobody even managed to touch me before I started my journey into some alien’s prize bin. I flailed around helplessly, and realized that I really _was_ going to find out what it was like to be abducted today.
[1/?] | 2019-05-09T16:13:20 | 2019-05-09T15:43:12 | 1,916 | 200 |
[WP] After people die, they must answer a riddle, and its difficulty depends on their sins. You've committed genocide. | I didn't expect there to be a line. Well, i didn't expect there to an afterlife at all, but i certainly didn't expect what looked like an airport and a hundred clerks that all looked the same.
I didn't have any luggage mind you. Most people did. It would seem that the clerks would inspect them and either let them pass or send them back from where we came. You could see the relief on their faces as they hurried towards the entrance so fast they'd drop the luggage on the way.
As we approached the desk, I noticed the questions. Seemingly random ones and varying in difficulty. "How can the negative effects of urbanization be minimized?","Would you be happier if you asked Stacy out?", "How do you create uranium 235?", "When was Iulius Caesar killed?" and many others.
The soldier in our line was just taken away by guards after he couldn't explain what the dark matter is, and since the only person in line was a small boy, I could finally see the man behind the desk. Ancient. That was the only thing that stood out about him. I couldn't even tell what race he was. Which is strange since it never gave me any trouble when I was alive.
"Hello Timmy," the elder spoke, calmly, "how are you feeling?" "A bit scared mister.""Don't be, you're safe now. Please continue through the door and someone will take care of you" and let the boy pass.
"You." his gazed pierced me. A lesser man would have faltered, but i resisted. I won and he turned his sight towards the book on his table. He opened it at a seemingly random page and started reading. "What now?" I asked, impatient. "Are you going to send me to hell? Do you have special torment waiting for me?" But the clerk woudn't answer. He would just continue reading and shake his head occasionally. "What do you want from me?"
Finally, he looked up and his eyes were deep as wells in a starlit night, full of immeasurable sadness.
"Why?" | They were standing there, a vague sense of huddling up - a flock of angels, some passed wary glances, two or three surely wanted to be anywhere else, one stood just apart, apparently listening but wrath was building under his alabaster skin.
They looked like ethereal bureaucrats, like the black suits and DMV contingent of the Upper Room. I had caused directly the deaths of an entire people, indirectly well... I could see this going toward 'proper fucked' rather than forgive and forget.
The one who stood apart could not contain himself anymore.
He spoke, his voice was as the rolling of thunder, "A riddle then..."
"What has four legs when," the angel trailed off but as a ruse, taunting, " not that."
"All in male, never blinking," he said with a lilt, quite belied by the way his voice made the edges of my vision go black and urged me both to cower and run and cry.
"No, that's not right." His eyes were those of a predator, he knew exactly what I am, who I had been, what I wanted and sought, once I had thought myself the abyss starting back, now I knew those memories to be the fantasies of a sad and broken child. Perhaps it's true what they say of angels, one wing dipped in blood.
"What have I got in my pocket?" He asked, now almost gentle.
"You don't have pockets.." I replied, uttering my first words in the afterlife.
He reached beneath his flowing robes over his breast and removed his hand, he was giving me the finger.
"Little boy you're going to hell."
And I was - | 2017-06-03T06:38:33 | 2017-06-03T04:47:45 | 23 | 15 |
[WP]using his last wish to free the genie he was led to a well hidden cave. Upon removing a boulder blocking the entrance the genie said “thank you for using your last wish, here are some more, just promise me you’ll do the same for them”. Left Inside the cave we’re thousands of glistening lamps. | As he walked into the cave, looking back at Marcus, Drake stared at the giant pile of lamps. Gold, brass, silver; each one different. "...Okay, I knew you were stuck here somehow. How the hell did this happen? You've still got more power than any human. How did they trap so many?"
Marcus shifted his stance a bit. He looked more... solid. The old lamp, once glowing so long as he was free, now seemed like a dull hunk of metal. Tall, grey-blue skin... he'd brought us hundreds of miles in a few minutes, after being freed, just by lifting and carrying me. "Well, we're not from around here. Humans learned how to bring us here, a long, long time ago. Used us to solve all their problems. Kinda like you did."
Drake looked a bit embarassed. Wishing for eternal health for himself and his family were one thing. Wishing for a pile of gold was another. Frankly, on learning he couldn't help -everyone- he'd just decided to be a bit greedy... until it came time to make a last wish. "I'm assuming it didn't go well for them?"
"Well. They forgot how to do things for themselves, really. A billion magical slaves we were made to conjure up. Endless food, endless prosperity. When they forgot how to make more of us, it didn't matter; there were so many. When one of our masters vengefully wished for us to hide as many of the lamps as we could... it all just collapsed. They couldn't get by without us. I'm the only one that was found after that. I've had dozens of masters. Obviously you're the only one to free me. Now... I can go home."
He brushed the dust from his jacket, picking up the next lamp. "I don't suppose any of them are any stronger than you? Able to do that 'world peace' thing?" Marcus gave a solemn shake of his head. "We can only do things on a personal scale. A handful of people. I could turn a man into gold, make a copy of a man so close you'd thought I'd revived the dead. Give you boundless strength, or the speed of a thunderbolt. But... no."
​
Drake looked out over the pile of lamps. "Well. What about all of them? Could they all do it, together, before I set them free?" Marcus rested a hand on one of the lamps; a beautiful silver structer, inset with rubies. "You don't really understand the problem. Being peaceful would make you no longer human. If none of you suffered from age or illness... if I could give the gift I gave you to the world... they would all die to each other instead."
​
"So... in order to save people, I'd have to make them not human anymore?" The Genie gently picked up one of the lamps, extending it towards Drake. "That would be a good start." | It was fun; running around in our wild adventure, just the genie and me, getting p to who knows what with the wish always there to bail us out. And really; I liked the guy. Funny, a little eccentric at times but I chalked that up to 1000 years of solitude in a dented lamp.
However; those times were meant to be once in a life time; god I did not want to go over Niagara Falls on a flying carpet again (the spray clung to me like a drowning cat, I came out like an icicle after). And yet there was a nagging feeling throbbing at the back of my head; one telling me to do something. That or the gold champagne had finally caught up when me.
So, as I stood in the entrance, casting my long dark shadow across the thousands of glinting metal lights, I made a plan. The tantalising taste of beckoned my feet to take a small step into the we’ll start air, greed pushing me to take another. This-this would be fun.
~
Cops pulled around either side of an old shabby house located on the corner of Main street, Manhattan. It didn’t look like much, walls sinking and sagging at the seams; only just tall enough to be considered 3 story. Police poured I to the area, guns ready to unleash hell on whatever moved within their sights.
“COME OUT! WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED!”
Inside a young man stirred awake, lifting his tired body up and stretching with several satisfying pops heard. He plodded over to the window, noticing how the birds had stopped singing and the air tasted foul with apprehension. He peeled away an old curtain, small layers la dust effortlessly gliding towards the ground with the slightest disturbance.
They were here already. Interesting.
As the man meandered downstairs, he grabbed a jointing metal pot near the door, rubbing it slightly as if to wipe off some microscopic dirt on the emasculate surface. Suddenly, blue smoke billowed from the spout, pooling around him and collecting together to create a life form few had ever seen.
“Okay, your time to shine, sorry you were the last one. Please could you make them out there forget I exists, then you are free to go—as in your free,” the figure nodded eagerly, lips drawn into a wordless smile, “good; now I’m going back to be. Night!” And with that the ban store out the room, leaving an utterly confused yet excited genie to complete her tasks. | 2020-09-24T18:15:51 | 2020-09-24T18:00:31 | 210 | 99 |
[WP] The aliens we call Grays are in fact evolved humans from the far future. They have come back in time and abduct people because they are desperately searching for something... | It's been more centuries than we can even remember. Our colony, and planet, are on the brink of extinction. We survive on cloned and synthesized meats that are grown in labs. They have had detrimental effects on our children and people. The pigment in their skin is just...off. The synthesized proteins and calcium caused our bodies to grow different. They told us that cloning and lab meat would save us. Oh, how wrong they were.
After the final bomb dropped, we slowly began to leave our shelters. Who would've thought that humans could do this to each other. The radiation destroyed so much more than we could have ever imagined. The soil would never again be useful. The water from the ocean would never again be fit for life. The planet has stopped supporting life. We gave all of our remaining support and resources to our last living scientists. Their creations are the reason why we were able to survive, if you can call this surviving. We were forced to use our weakest... our children and elderly, sick and weak to test their creations. Their first attempts at creating nutrients caused a plague that almost annihilated the rest of us.
Once we created our cloning process, we realized that it would keep us alive, but with drastic consequences. We became the same grey as the meat we consumed. The oils in our skin changed to a viscous, slime like consistency. Our bodies became frail and the nutrients only fed our brains. We needed to keep our top scientists alive. I fear that you will not understand.
The video stops and the screen goes blank. I am still in a cold sweat. Is this a nightmare ? I go to pinch myself but I realize that I am held down by restraints. There is only my frantic breathing and silence. I hear a door behind me open. All I hear are footsteps. The they stop right behind me. Something that I have only ever seen in my nightmares and wildest dreams walks by me and sits across from me. He speaks.
"We have tried everything. Our scientists were only able to prolong our species but with dire consequences. We are here to seize your body. We shall prevent all that is lost with our knowledge of will become of our species. We did not know. Being consumed by the media and things in front of our faces, we failed to control the powers that be. They destroyed us and we cannot make it in our future. We must stop it here, in our past, your present."
With that, the "thing" attached a headpiece to me. It sat across from me and attached itself to the other end of the device. I see it activate the device.
My eyes open and I see my body across from me. The restraints release my old body and it gets up. We come face to face. "Thank you. Along with you and the others we have taken, we can fix our history. We will prevent all that has happened. We will come back for you and restore you as soon as possible. We will make things right..."
I think I am going into cardiac arrest. I keep trying to wake up. I don't think this is a dream anymore... | We pull a thousand more and I know immediately we have not found Him.
I motion to my psyker and he confirms, and with another wave of my hand the Witch Hunters begin their cleansing process, their tools sharp and brutal.
We project images of humanoid grey creatures, and they are repulsed and filled with hate. Even if we have not found Him, we can still condition them to hate the xeno scum.
"No sign of Chaos," says my psyker. "Yet their minds are open like the rest, ready to accept differing opinion, so long as it is well supported and logical."
"Blessed is the mind too small for doubt," I mumble and there are a few nods. "Praise to the Emperor."
My battle brothers respond in turn and I retreat to my quarters, shedding my battle armor. I ask my psyker to project the Astronomican onto my window and I admire its beauty. Even in another time, the Emperor's intricate map of the Warp can still be seen. If only we could find him here.
Thus far I have failed the Emperor. For 10,000 years he remains in stasis, unable to communicate His will. And in the year 2015, we try to find him. Perhaps he has not yet been born. We don't know.
The Horus Heresy almost killed him. These 2015 humans would never understand. Chaos invaded us like a plague. Half of us turned to madness immediately, worshiping false gods, brothers killing brothers for centuries, and we were thrown into a dark age of violence and terror. Now the Chaos scum has been repelled but not exterminated. Where did it come from? Could it happen again? If only we could find some sort of clue in this century. Maybe the next century.
I grow angry and have thoughts of abandoning my mission.
"Only the Emperor is all. Without him there is nothing," I whisper and I feel loyal.
I walk to the chambers and the Witch Hunters are grinning as they brutalize the humans. Some will die horribly from their wounds. Those that don't will be ready for the Emperor. Only the Emperor can free them. And we will find him and warn him of the coming of Chaos. One way or another. Until then, we prepare humanity.
"Release them," I command, leaving a final message searing into their brains. "Prayer cleanses the soul. Pain cleanses the body. Only the Emperor is all."
We beam up another thousand and I know immediately we have not found Him.
| 2015-12-18T07:01:55 | 2015-12-18T06:59:32 | 167 | 50 |
[WP] After dying, you found yourself staring at a large screen. "LOBBY. Current players: 7,383,275,800. Current game time: 1059040375.2 mins. Current spectarors: 21,458,374,931. Player rank: 2,648,535,901. Time until next game: 23695624.8 mins" | A whirring sound gradually filled my ears as the 'GAME OVER' marquee scrolled across the top of my HUD. "*Statistics*", I muttered, reaching blindly around for my beverage. Words flitted across my screen filling all of the empty space. "*Next-Round*", all of the text from before vanished as the respawn timer filled the screen.
>Time until Respawn: 23695624.8 minutes
I sighed, "What the fuck is this!". "*Connect to server chat*", I yelled into the microphone of my VR-helmet.
>Connecting to...'EARTH -- Human SERVER #2360 CHAT' ...
....
.....
.......
CONNECTED!
"Does anyone know the reason for this ridiculous respawn time?", I asked, "I didn't break any of the server rules!". I could hear a few muffled laughs from the others in the chat. "Is this your first play-through on the Human servers?", someone asked, "these servers don't really have any rules..just more of a set of guidelines." I thought for a few seconds trying to recall whether or not I had previously played on these servers. "No, I've definitely played on these servers before, but this is my longest play-through. I didn't make it to very high levels in my other sessions.", I tried to explain. A different person chimed in sounding as though they were suppressing their laughter, "I'm guessing you didn't read the latest patch notes for these servers before you joined your last match, huh?"
I sighed. No, of course not. I hardly ever read the patch notes and then unsurprisingly get pissed off at the game changes I didn't realize were coming. "*Patch Notes*!", I said somewhat begrudgingly. Text once again flitted cross my screen. I scrolled passed most of the bug fixes until I found the 'Game-Play Changes' section.
>"....changes made to **player respawn time**: "Player respawn-timer now solely comes from **-KARMA** rating of last play-through."
"Oh, fuck me!" I yelled, ripping off my VR-Helmet.
| "Damn it! I was doing it all wrong."
Immediately everything was clear again. I remember it all. Fighting the urges for my whole life. Fighting against my better instincts, just because they said it was wrong.
"It fucking matters now doesn't it?" I mumble.
Those voices in my head, telling me to do those *things*. I should've listened to myself, I knew I had a mission. I knew it was important.
I spent all that time building something that didn't matter. I had a career, friends, family- three fucking cats. It should've been simple.
Those numbers burned into my eyes.
**EatsBacon (93)**
"93... How did I only get 93? The cats should've been freebies!"
I grab the microphone plopped in front of the monolithic screen.
"Leaderboards!"
*Rankings flood the screen*
**pepsi_next (9407266)
GallowBoob (6844992)
ibleeedorange (5241087)
1Voice1Life (3896288)
bubblr (3613265)
StickleyMan (3523504)
Libertatea (3405272)
isai76 (3303630)
mepper (3133454)
maxwellhill (3023509)
lobo2ffs (2993266)
way_fairer (2739961)
anutensil (2703213)
j0be (2520665)
Unidan (2496912)
ani625 (2478349)
mike_pants (2453440)
_vargas_ (2405433)
davidreiss666 (2330807)
ethan_kahn (2181939)**
| 2015-11-25T01:06:36 | 2015-11-25T00:10:22 | 46 | 10 |
[WP] You, an atheist, have died. All the gods that have ever been line up to offer you their version of heaven if only you believe in _them_. Turns out souls are currency and yours is up for grabs. | I took the time to read through each one of their books thoroughly. Most of them were over 400 pages, so it struck me as odd when I walked up to the last of the gods and saw a young girl with a 3-page pamphlet.
"You're just a kid," I pointed out to her, stupidly.
"That is my soul you're seeing. I am Fun."
"Fun? That's all?"
"All?" She giggled as if she knew something I didn't. "Just read this."
Page 1: Family. Family is glue. They are your best friends. Family means you are never alone. In my Heaven, you will get to find your perfect family. They understand you, they are always there for you.
Underneath the short paragraph, there was a childlike sketch of blue humanoid figures in a group hug with hearts floating above them.
I needed some crackers for all the cheese.
Page 2: Love. Love is life. You will never be without love in my Heaven. It will be your food.
Underneath the sentence, there was another drawing of a sunrise over a cornfield. A caption below it said, "This is how much the sun loves us."
How lame.
Page 3: Fun. Fun is eternity's secret. You never get tired of it. In my Heaven, you chase fun and then rest, and then chase again.
The illustration this time showed the same blue figures doing various activities - playing a guitar, kicking a soccer ball, playing with a cat.
I looked up at her again and noted the expectant look on her face.
"Why such a short book? It took me years just to read through the others and yours just doesn't even compare. I don't mean that in a good way. I need more data."
"You need more will," she said.
"My will is just fine. I know exactly what I want."
"Then what is it?"
"I want to understand how all of this came to be and then die."
"You'd like some supplemental reading material? I do have one other document. It's not required reading, just something nice."
"Nice?!" This kid was amusing the shit out of me.
"Here."
She handed me a list of "Sad Things to Say."
The list: Die. Kill. Murder. End. Death. Destroy. Fear. Rage.
It went on and on.
"So why do they call you Fun? Your Heaven sounds like fluff. They should call you Fluff."
She opened a portal in mid-air next to her and showed a group of people sitting next to a river, drinking beer and laughing next to a campfire.
"This is my favorite family so far," she smiled. "They love each other so much and never forget each other in times of need. You ought to hear them sing."
"You've left so much of this reality in your Heaven," I said with a slight bit of confusion. She didn't make a rainbow sky or anything like some of the other silly books I went through.
"While I was human, I realized that we were already in a perfect place. The problem was people not having fun. I talked to Creator and he gave me the chance to stand among the gods. He told me to keep my Heaven simple though, because the others are kind of assholes, even though they are very smart. Don't tell them that."
I laughed out loud at this child's profanity. She rolled her eyes and grinned.
"Well, what do you think?" she asked.
"I think there is something you're not telling me. I know you're after something by offering this to me."
"Currency?"
"Exactly."
"Time is what?" She asked.
"Money."
"And money is?" She asked.
"Currency."
"And what does currency mean?"
"In circulation," I replied immediately. Hmm.
She pointed back to the portal she had opened. "Your soul in this Heaven will create a more vibrant place for us all. Each new arrival only makes it shine brighter. You will become this Heaven and this Heaven will become you. You make it move like the current of the river. That is why they call me Fun!"
"Because ..." I was at a loss for words.
"Because it is. Do you want to stay with my family for a while and just see?"
"Wait a minute. Why are the other gods so hungry for my soul?"
"Trophies and competitions," she said with sad eyes.
"I'm going back to my family now, friend. You can come with me or you can reread your books."
She began stepping through the portal.
"Wait!!" I nearly screamed.
I felt the warmth coming through the portal. I needed to go with her.
She reached out her small hand to me and guided me through.
| The boy opened his eyes. The dim agressive light of the hospital replaced by the soothing embrace of a sun that did not shine yet lighted the ethereal clouds he walked upon.
So its over, thought the boy, all this struggle and now...
Now there was a bearded man.
"Are you God?"
The ancient sighed.
"No."
He then stood still. Awaiting further questions to annoy him.
"uuhh, where is God?"
The whitehaired individual sighed again.
"Down the hall, section B6."
The boy was confused, but too tired to complain. He moved down the hall and past the gate without saying anything. He encountered a few doors with letters and numbers above them, like the hospital. He entered through B6, and found a legion of strange beings awaiting his arrival. Egyptian looking animals to the left, Roman toga wearing men and women to the right...and here he was, stuck in the middle as a mortal.
"And so the young Michael has arrived. Then let us proceed with the soul before us. My boy, take a seat."
The latter looked around him, there was no seat, he panicked.
"My boy it was a manner of speaking. You are in the hollows, all mortals can do anything here, really. Just make the chair appear through sheer force of will."
"Really?" And as if to answer his question a chair appeared.
"Amazing!"
"Micheal, we are here to help you choose the heaven you desire."
"Oh?"
"Yes, the representatives of each heaven are going to make a sales pitch. But you get to choose, in the end."
"Where is the heaven where I can see my parents?"
There was a silence.
"I am sorry my boy. You cannot see the living."
"But... I really want to see them...I...I...miss them so much..."
The boy started crying.
"If you try to go back to the living we shall stop you."
And then it became obvious to the boy.
"In here, my sheer force of will can do...anything."
He made a big grin. As he increased the size of his body and mass.
"Do not do this boy. We are gods, we can defeat you."
"Maybe you are gods but I...AM...SUPER GOD."
And so the boy fought the legions of the hollows. Defeating all faiths with his alone. For in this realm the true gods are mortals armed with the freedom of choice.
As all deities lied defeated, a nordsman with a hammer came before him.
"You truly are the mightiest. I, Thor, son of Odin, bow to your will and shall help you go back to the realm of life."
"I love you Thor! Especially in comic number 87!"
"What?"
"Nothing, I am just a big fan."
"Oh, thank you. To reach the living we have to defeat the master of the dead."
And so Micheal and Thor went on to battle death itself. As its black form was melted by Micheal's will to live again a portal opened. It was his house.
"Farewell Michael. Live with honor!" said Thor as the boy disappeared into the portal.
The gate ceased to be and Thor sighed.
He removed his silly clothing and allowed his age to appear again.
Then the ancient walked out a door and found God waiting for him.
"Live with honor? What was that?"
"I don't know. I improvised."
"But he bought it all?"
"Yes, of course."
"Good."
"Good? We just lied to a child with this grotesque farce."
"Dont blame the child for having simple childish taste."
"I blame you for making him believe he could escape death. To turn his after life into an illusion. What kind of heaven did you make for him?"
"The kind he wanted."
"He didnt choose this after life!"
"He didn't choose to live in the first place."
"I keep teeling you to stop building those kind of heavens but you never listen.There is no arguing with you. I hope this was worth it."
The old man left.
God looked upon the section of heaven the kid resided in now. A perfect recreation of earth at the time of his death.
The boy embraced his parents.
"You did it Michael. You defeated death through sheer force of will like you promised us. We are so proud of you!"
The boy smiled, and cried.
And that is when God knew.
Yes it was worth it.
| 2017-07-09T05:04:36 | 2017-07-09T04:48:05 | 58 | 39 |
[WP] Your gimmick is the ability to jump back in time 10 seconds. You're in a pub trying different pick-up lines with this one girl and resetting with each failure. As you walk up for your next attempt, she tosses a drink in your face and says "How many times do I have to say no!?" | Since I was young, I've always had this weird phenomenon happen. I would throw a ball, then suddenly I would have to throw it again. I would be talking to someone, and then I would have to repeat a sentence, because they hadn't heard it. At these random points, time would suddenly jump back ten seconds.
It was completely beyond my control. I remember this one time on New Years Eve, right as the countdown to the new year ended, I was vomiting into a toilet. Bile and cheap vodka were being ejected through my mouth, and I felt like absolute shit. Then it happened again. And again. I lost count in the end, but there was a good 10 minute window where I was terrified that my life was just going to be that 10-second loop of me vomiting for eternity.
It's not always bad. I worked out that occasionally, there's sometimes a couple of time jumps at exactly 8 in the evening. Ever since I worked that out, I've always had my once-a-day treat at that time. When I'm lucky, I'm able to have it a large amount of times, without any extra calories. If my coworkers knew, they would be so jealous.
When I was younger, I got into such big arguments with my friends and family about the jumps. I insisted that they were real, that they were happening. But as I didn't have any control over the jumps, it was impossible to prove it. Sometimes someone would be talking to me and then a jump would happen, and I would say everything they said in perfect unison, but that would only piss them off.
In the end, it became this strange little quirk that I had become used to. I would try and do all the disgusting parts of life as quickly as possible, to make sure that I didn't have to repeat it. I stopped drinking, so I didn't have to worry about vomiting. I began obsessed with my own personal hygiene and health, never shaking hands and always cleaning, to make sure I didn't get infected with anything, to stop myself from looping through the coughs and sneezes. It basically took over my life.
Which isn't to say I didn't have a life. One of my few friends had invited me to a local bar, to celebrate a proposal, or a promotion, I wasn't really listening. I was too focused on the bartender, trying to see if he was washing the glasses properly, if I could maybe enjoy a drink of water without having to worry. He wasn't. Anyway, I was in the middle of talking to a friend of a friend when this guy came over.
This guy wasn't too bad looking, but he had almost this aura of smugness and arrogance over him. "Hey, do I know you from somewhere?" He asked.
I smiled politely. "I'm a model." It was true. And this sort of thing happened a lot. As I turned from him, I saw the smallest change in the way my friend-of-a-friend sat. It was like a game that had just skipped a few frames, a classic sign of a time jump. Great. I was going to be hit on again.
The guy walked up to me again. "I seem to have lost my number, can I have yours?*"*
I smiled politely. "I'm a model." Before returning to face my friend again. Wait, something-
Another skip. Another jump. Before I could get my thoughts together, the guy came over. "If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"
"Wha-" Before I could finish my sentence, I was looking at my friend again.
Again. "See my friend over there?" I briefly looked to where he was pointing. There was no one there. What the hell? "He wants to know if you think I’m cute."
I put on a confused face. "Uhh..." I started, as I started moving my hand towards my purse. Before I could open it, my arms and hands were back to where they had been ten seconds ago. I was looking at the friend-of-a-friend.
I started to feel sick. What was happening? Was I stuck again? Was this going to be the rest of my life? I didn't even hear the next line, didn't even react to it. I was jumped back again, my look of concern turning back into a polite smile as I spoke to the friend-of-a-friend.
"Kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?"
"Fu-" Before the words could even leave my mouth, I was back to silent. Back to smiling.
"Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?"
"Fu-" Again, before I could react, I was back to where I was.
"Hey you're pretty and I'm cute, together we could be pretty cute!"
"Fu-" Again.
And again.
And again.
My brain wasn't ready for this. My fight-or-flight instinct kept on kicking in, before being reset to normal, human conversation mode. My brain was literally incapable of processing what was happening to me in the amount of time I had before a reset. That sickly feeling I had kept coming and going, getting worse and worse each time. I... I was stuck.
Until I stopped listening to my brain.
Another jump. "Are you weari-" Before he could even finish the line, I had grabbed my friends drink and thrown it in his face, fully on instinct.
"How many times do I need to say no?!" I screamed.
The pub became silent. The friend-of-a-friend looked at me like I had just eaten a baby. My friend gave me a look that I was all too used to seeing on friends and family, a mixture of pity and disgust. And the guy... Well. He just looked shocked.
All these faces looking at me, judging me. I could see it in their eyes. I was just some crazy chick who couldn't take a joke. I was a killjoy. I was insane. It was too much. I grabbed my purse and ran outside, managing to hold back the tears until I was outside. | Some NSFW-ish language (swearing)
My... gift... superpower, maybe?... is the ability to jump back in time ten seconds. Exactly ten seconds, no more, no less. And no, I can't just keep skipping back in time infinitely in ten second intervals—as soon as I use it, there's a ten second cooldown of sorts. Yes, again, exactly ten seconds. I've started wearing a watch with a timer to keep easy track of it.
Anyway, this power manifested around the time I was six years old; at first, it involuntary triggered at moments of high stress, which was honestly terrifying and probably made a lot of people think I was insane for a while, but eventually I was able to find out how to control it and... well, use it for my own benefit. I can be altruistic sometimes, ok... when I feel like it.
This power has a lot of great uses. Need more time studying? You can totally focus when you have to jump back every ten seconds! Make an awkward fumble in public? You ten seconds ago with the knowledge of what's about to happen totally won't make the same mistake, right...? Always get the best reaction out of people with your flawless quips? Totally. That last one has particular relevance to the dating scene, I must say. First impressions mean a lot, and when your first impression is always spot-on, it's not difficult to get a date. Keeping them is a whole other issue...
...I may have attachment issues...
Anyway... I ramble a lot, can you tell? May be another reason my relationships don't last. Cut to last night, where... something strange happened. Just got dumped the other day, so naturally I head to a bar to try and find a rebound. It doesn't take long for me to scout around and find this gorgeous, I mean absolutely amazing, woman. Dirty blonde hair, green eyes, wide shoulders, my type of girl. So I make my approach.
"Hey babe, how's the weather?"
Ok, that one was a little bad. I'm not really a good learner. My style's more "throw everything at the wall and see what sticks."
She looked at me for a moment, then just sighed and turned away. No problem, no problem. Cut to ten seconds ago. I make my approach.
"Hey babe, mind if I sit down here?"
Something a bit more subtle, definitely more on the casual side. Again, she looked at me.
"Yeah, I mind."
Dangit. Back to ten seconds ago. I make my approach.
"Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got FINE written all over you."
Not exactly original, but cheesy humor is always a safe approach. But this time, when she turned to look at me, she kinda squinted her eyes, like something was off to her.
"Can you leave me alone?"
So naturally, being met with failure, I reset and try this about five more times. The strange thing was, each time, she seemed to be getting more and more agitated, even desperate at times. Did she really know what was up? How could that even be possible? Once again, I made my approach...
"Hey there..."
I didn't even get to finish my sentence before she splashed her drink in my face!
"Hey many times do I have to say no!?"
Loud enough to make the point, but not loud enough to make a scene.
So naturally, I went back ten seconds.
"Hey there..."
She threw her drink at me again, this time, the whole glass. That actually hurt a bit.
"GAAAAAH! Stop doing that! Leave me the fuck alone!!"
Back ten seconds. It's clear she doesn't have the power to mess with time like I do, even if she's aware of what I'm doing... I can be petty sometimes. You know, maybe I need to take a hard look at myself and how I treat others.
"Hey..."
Her arms grip my shirt with a rage I have never seen before and she pulls me close to whisper in my ear.
"How the hell are you doing this..."
"You mean... you know what I'm doing?" I whisper back.
"Yeah, and it sucks ass. What do you want? If I have sex with you, will you let me get on with my goddamn life?"
I think about it for a moment. I'm really starting to consider that what I've done has been pretty messed up. It's really easy to have a callous regard toward other peoples' lives when you can just keep going back to get the reaction you want from them; you start thinking of them more as machines you feed actions into. This is the first time I've ever encountered someone who's different. I'm not an animal... at least, I'd like to think I'm not. I don't enjoy torturing people.
"N-no..." I stutter out, "But... maybe a date would be nice?"
She loosens her grip a bit.
"None of this time bullshit?"
"I promise."
"All right, I'll do it. But if you try anything, I'll find a way to make you hurt every... single... time."
I nod slowly. She lets me go, downs her drink, scrawls her number on a napkin, and promptly bails. I don't question whether she gave me a fake number or not, I just let her go. Gotta show some good faith, yeah? I can't say I'd blame her though.
But it checked out. Maybe this is going to be another dating fail. Maybe it goes somewhere, I dunno. But I think I'm going to be a lot more careful about how I make use of my powers from now on. | 2020-05-30T07:34:00 | 2020-05-30T06:33:10 | 102 | 27 |
[WP] Every Monday you and your coworkers order Chinese food for a nice lunch together as a team. Everyone's sharing what their fortune cookie says, laughing, and having a good time. It's almost your turn so you open yours. It says "Don't say anything. Just run as fast you can! Get out now!" | RUN! LEAVE NOW AND DON’T LOOK BACK! That’s what the slip from her fortune cookie said. Anne sat there staring at it for a second, then raised her head and looked around the busy restaurant. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Just tables full of office workers in their business casual clothes, absorbed in their phones, trying to distract themselves on their lunch breaks. She hadn’t noticed when the bill had been laid at her table with the individually wrapped treat on it, but something in her gut told her she should heed the cookie’s warning and go. She picked up her cell phone, threw some money on the table, and immediately walked out of the restaurant.
She didn’t run, but she was walking away quickly. She was more than two blocks away and had just rounded the corner of a sturdy brick building when she was knocked over by the force of the explosion.
The Jade Dragon was a small Chinese restaurant a little over six blocks from her office. It was owned and operated by an immigrant family who were very polite and were the only employees. It had good Lo Mein and great Crab Rangoon, but now it was a smoldering hole in the side of a building on Eastern Avenue.
Anne got up from the ground and looked back around the corner. She could see the smoke and flames billowing from the ruined façade of the building and could hear the car alarms blaring for blocks around. She started to slowly walk back to the scene of carnage when some graffiti caught her eye. Written in bright neon green paint on the back of a no parking sign were the words “YOU’RE LOOKING BACK!” with a frowny face below it. Stunned, she stared at it for a moment, then again looked around. The streets were beginning to fill will people from the surrounding offices and storefronts. As the crowd grew, she turned and started running. | As I scanned the slip of paper, a massive feeling of urgency washed over me. I considered resisting the order for a moment but General Tso began knocking on my Great Wall, so to speak. Davey just finished his fortune, and Mindy Motormouth is before me anyway. I'll be back before they get around the table. The thought barely crossed my mind as I ditched the table and started toward the throne-room quicker than the Manchu to Beijing. The urgency continued to worsen as if the Terracotta army began to march and I barely escaped the break room. This must be what the Long March was like when Mao retreated- Barry ambushed me in the hallway "Hey man, how was the lunch?" but heeding the fortune, I blasted by fearing a pu pu-induced flood. The door was in sight. Without thinking I breached the Forbidden City like a mongol ready to pillage the porcelain but was met with an ungodly yet familiar stench. Luckily, there was another stall available. I barely reached crouching tiger before my hidden dragon roared from my lantern and the defecation demonstration dwindled to a stream not unlike the Yellow river in its calm liquidity. I had finally achieved harmony as the MSG exited my insides. I was at peace just as a friendly voice shattered the stallmate stalemate:
"I wonder if we got the same lucky numbers too." | 2018-06-10T06:42:02 | 2018-06-10T01:12:46 | 533 | 73 |
[WP] When teenagers turn 17, they are sent a slip of paper with their future occupation written on it. Yours says, "Princeps de Nova Roma" or "First Citizen of New Rome."
*Princeps* or *princeps civitatis* was the title that Augustus and all later emperors called themselves. "First citizen" meant the foremost citizen or the leader of Rome.
EDIT: For those of you attacking me via PM on my lack of knowledge on Latin, I never said I had any formal Latin education. Although I do, a mere four years, I got a 5 on the AP Exam, so you could say I'm a Latin scholar. I now realize that there is no ablative of origin or reference, so *de Nova Roma* is wrong. I get it, please stop private messaging me about my ignorance, because I don't care nor do I have the time for your whining.
I have a fluids and processes exam in a few days and I'm studying, so I may not be able to respond to all of the stories. I appreciate all of you taking the time to write them and I'll be sure to read them during my study breaks! | Christian looked at the small, square piece of paper. It had a brittle consistency and smelled of ozone, as if it was burned by electricity.
"So, Christian, what did you get? I'm a surgeon now, pretty cool, eh? Weird! Yours looks different from mine... wait, is that Latin?"
"I don't know what the hell that is supposed to me-," he was interrupted when lightning struck the ground next to him, the piece of paper in his hand turned into black ash and he suddenly felt something very heavy in his hand. A massive, shimmering sword materialized slowly between his fingers, as if it was being dragged by invisible threads out of thin air. He instinctively grabbed the sword with both hands and noticed a finely crafted and detailed two-headed golden bird as its crossguard before the weight dragged his arms down and the tip of the sword sunk into the floor. The moment the metal touched the ground, the area around the sword burst into bright, hot flames.
"Holy crap, bro! What the fuck is that?" His friend yelled while stumbling backwards, shielding his eyes with his right hand while staring at the sword.
Golden strands of light appeared in the air behind the two and suddenly it felt as if the atmosphere was being ripped apart while the space between the strands of light was seemingly pulled apart like curtains and figures emerged from behind those veils. Human figures dressed in thick armour. Dozens of them. They marched into the square in a quick military fashion. Other figures, hooded and dressed in what looked like religious gowns, started emerging, too, pushing people standing nearby away with staffs. Christian noticed that the staffs were topped with the same two-headed birds the sword in his hand was graced with.
"Kneel." a voice simply stated. There were at least 40 armoured figures standing in front of Christian and they all bent their knees simultaneously in front of him, their heavy plated armour crashing into the ground before them.
Christian's friend made a step forward. "Uhm," he said, "who... who are you?"
The figures did not raise their eyes from the ground before them. The same voice from before spoke up, this time angrily: "KNEEL BEFORE THE EMPEROR!"
The voice came from one of the hooded figures who remained standing throughout what seemed like a military ceremony. The figure was wearing a particularly thick red and white gown embroidered with peculiar looking symbols.
Christian's friend had enough. Whether it was courage or stupidity, he stepped in front of Christian and said "The 'Emperor'? What kind of joke is that? Who the fuck is the Empero- AAAAAHHHH!"
The hooded figure had turned his staff, which was beautifully reflecting the sunlight with its golden ornaments, a few degrees right towards Christian's friend, who - as a consequence - burst into flames.
His screams quickly subsided as his body turned to coal.
Despite the gruesome death of his friend just a few meters away from him, Christian wasn't very upset. He remembered. No, he *suddenly knew* that it was right.
The owner of the charred corpse before his feet suffered the rightful fate of any heathen questioning the authority or presence of the emperor.
"Rise." said Christian.
"Rise in the name of the emperor!" the hooded figure yelled, the armoured men next to him obliging.
Christian rose his sword from the ground and rammed it back, straight into the earth.
"This world is now the capital of the One True Empire! High Lord! Where is my armour?!"
The tall, hooded figure removed his hood, revealing the brightly smiling face of a white haired man with sharp eyes.
"At once, Emperor, " he said. | I have the bad habit of cracking my joints when I am nervous—not just my knuckles, but my neck, back, ankles, and anything that goes pop when you force it hard enough. Today I sounded like kettle corn over a fire.
My family stood just in front of the ancient wooden door; my preconceived thoughts of grandeur and ceremony had long since fled. The house was a revolting yellow, paint peeling off in strips like old scabs. Merchant stalls were an arm’s throw away, selling everything from incense to snake oil. As I was looking around, Danny, three years my senior, clapped me on the back and whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry about all this. Most people ignore what’s on the paper anyway.” He smirked, but I gave no reply. My brother’s words offered little comfort as he decided on bashing people’s skulls in for one of the local Gangs, although he always fails to name which one. The old books say that assassins worked stealthily and with finesse, but nowadays blood flows in the streets as easily as water. I pressed hard against the second joint of the little finger on my left hand. Pop.
Father looked Mother in the eyes for a few seconds, nodded, and returned his gaze to the door. What transpired between the two, I cannot say, but I assume it was no coincidence that a noise now emanated from inside the house. They scare me sometimes. Straining my ears to hear past the marketplace cacophony, there were footsteps in an even gait that clicked on floorboards just beyond this thin barrier. When the door swung open, the world seemed to grow quiet—either due to the Seer’s magic or more likely the blood rushing to my head. I hastily rolled my neck. Pop. Pop.
The Seer, dressed in cloak and hood, acted like a caricatured Reaper straight from the children’s stories. I almost laughed. But while pulling a folded slip of parchment from a sleeve, I noticed just how bony their hand was, pale and pointed. “What would it sound like to crack those fingers?” I idly wondered, two of which were now presenting me with the paper. As per custom, I accepted it with both hands, bowing slightly. Looking back up, the Seer had vanished, and the door was now closed without a sound. My family stared at me, expectantly. I stretched my jaw to one side. Pop.
I opened the paper and realized that it was unintelligible: Princeps de Nova Roma. The four of us stood there, puzzled, when I heard a voice say, “You will be the First Citizen of New Rome.”
“What?” I asked, turning to find the speaker.
“I don’t know what that says either,” Mother said with her face openly showing concern. She looked at Father who, for once, was as lost as the rest of us.
Mouthing the words, they only felt empty at first, slowly gaining…something with each repetition. I folded the slip and held it above the clear liquid that Father brought in a glass jar. The paper sizzled and turned black almost immediately, remaining only in our memories now. I resolved to find the Seer and find out what the hell this was supposed to mean.
| 2015-05-03T08:51:52 | 2015-05-03T08:46:03 | 82 | 20 |
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