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[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | I forget. Well, I make everyone forget. That’s my power, but you probably won’t recall this in approximately 1 minute.
It’s a curse. I watched as my other friends develop wondrous abilities during puberty- flight, invulnerability, elemental control, while I was bestowed with the power of forgetting. Maybe it was because I forgot to feed the family dog when my parents left for their trip and found him dead on their return. Or maybe I should have at least tried to remind myself a time or two again.
Oh well.
Ever since I turned 18, I ceased to exist. My own parents had no recollection of ever having a son. I watched as they replaced family portraits, puzzled as to who that mysterious boy was in all of the photos. I hated them at first, but soon I came to realise that I could not possibly blame them, I was but a void in their memory. My friends followed suit, deserting me.
I lived my days an inch away from insanity, conversations never lasted for more than a minute before the other person would be in a state of bewilderment, asking who I was. I was close to a figment of imagination to them.
I don’t recall when but I guess I snapped one day. I loaded up a gun, went out, and shot the first person that walked by me. Everyone screamed, or was it just a few people screaming? Never mind, it’s irrelevant. What was relevant was that after a minute, people stopped screaming, then started screaming again. I stood there till the police showed up, but no one remembered who killed that poor bastard. So I walked away, scot free and into a life of death and destruction. It didn’t take long before governments collapsed beneath me and mankind bowed to a god they forgot existed.
My name is Amnesia, and I’m the worlds greatest supervillain, but you probably won’t recall this in approximately 1 minute. | I walked silently through the deserted town, tracing my fingers along the side of a wall, feeling it crumble beneath my touch. Around me, trees withered and died, their leaves shifting from green to sickly yellow to deathly gray, before they collapsed to ash. I could feel the very air getting colder, the light caress of the wind on my face becoming sharp and frigid. I was certain that the sunlight falling on me was dimmer than before.
I turned around, gazing at the barren ruin my power had created. Behind me, the sidewalk was cracked and faded. I could see the disintegrating imprints my footsteps had left on the ground. I could see the dust drifting up around me as I stayed in one place for too long, giving my power too much of a grip on the environment. A few minutes more and the very ground would fragment into a thousand pieces. I sat down with a depressing finality, trying not to remember the horror of receiving my powers, of touching my friends and watching them age a thousand years in a few heartbeats, of staring numbly at my hands as people fled in a panic from me. I was a monster. There was no doubting that. My power was born of my dark subconsciousness, birthed from self-hatred and a desire to end it all.
The concrete at my feet split open, spiderweb fractures spreading outwards. I closed my eyes. My face was set in a smile as the crevice yawned open and I fell towards the darkness underneath. | 2019-09-08T09:02:22 | 2019-09-08T05:28:06 | 4,320 | 327 |
[WP]You've had bad luck your whole life. One day, you see a free item in the window of a curio shop-a bad luck charm. You think, "What the hell? My luck can't get any worse!" And take it. You're right. Life hasn't programmed luck scores to go into negative. Your luck score rolls back from 0 to 9999. | Talis’ day couldn’t get much worse, but that was hardly a first. First, she was ‘let go’ from their job as a courier— under the pretense that the guild didn’t need another delivery girl in their small town. Then, she receives a notice that if she can’t pay last month’s rent, the landlord would have no issue tossing what meager belongings she owns into the street. And that was just this morning, but it was certain the evening would bring further unlucky twists of fate.
Jobless, and with nothing to do, Talis wanders the slums that surround her home. With shed-like houses too close together for horse drawn wagons to safely traverse, walking the dirt streets was the only mode of transport, and Talis is careful not to step on any broken glass littering the road. Her shoes wouldn’t withstand that, and are her last pair. Her toes peek out from the tips, and she sighs to herself. They won’t go any good come winter, but it wasn’t as if she could afford a visit to the cobbler.
Looking around the roads and hastily erected market stalls tells her she wandered further than she mean to, and that she’s in the town’s shopping district. It’s a crowded bazaar of peoples, full of all sorts of wares for sale. Street barkers beckoning shoppers with fat purses, and thieves eyeing the same shoppers from the shadows. It’s noisy, especially this late in the day, when people were getting off of work and filing homewards, many stopping for shopping on the way.
But not Talis. She isn’t a shopper, and her luck is so poor that if she were to become a thief, she would be caught and executed on the spot. Or worse- they would cut off her hands and let her go, a slower but still certain death. She suppresses a shudder and turns down an alleyway, eyes low as not to make contact or appear a target. She walks fast, wanting to go home- if only to pack her things before they’re destroyed, and doesn’t notice a signpost before her.
She looks up just in time to crash her face into the swinging sign, startling her and sending her bouncing onto her behind, hands clutching at her bloody nose, swears flying from her lips as she looks at the offending woodwork. A sign, in neat font reads “Forgotten Treasures,” on the dark sign, white contrasting the swirling nebula of colors. ‘That,’ Talis thinks as she wipes her nose on her sleeve, eyes traveling to the packed window of the store. ‘Wasn’t always here.’
A glint of light catches her eye, and she stands up to look closer. On a dark red pillow, under a hanging lantern, is a necklace. Its simple leather cord contrasts with the fine silver charm lying central to the pillow, a small crow with wings spread in flight, holding onto the cord by its beak. Talis glances at the tag below, in spite of her empty coinpurse. She knows she’d never be able to afford something like that unless it was...
“Free! Bad Luck Charm,” the tag reads in bold letters, earning a wry laugh from the already unlucky woman. A bad luck charm... just like herself, made with the poor fortune to be cursed with bad luck. What foolish jeweler would do that on purpose...? Or perhaps its to be used as a curse for the owner, Talis doesn’t know. It draws her in, though, and she wonders if she could try to sell it off to pay for her rent... “What in the hells... I’ve got nothing to lose.. my luck can’t get any worse.” She scoffs, and enters the mysterious shop.
“Hello...? Hello, I saw the... the free charm in the window? I’d like it, please,” she calls into the room, squinting through a mist of incense and low light. She can see the room is packed with curios of all sorts— ancient bags, elven decanters, stuffed toys... If one of those lanterns fell, this place would burn for days. Talis prays that never happens, and decides not to stick around long.
“Ohoho, got you a rival in need of a curse?” A voice calls from the side, by the window already. Talis screams and turns, eyes searching the dim light for the frail source of that wispy voice, eyes landing on a wizened old woman whose yellowed smile is missing a few teeth. She is small, barely coming up to Talis’ chest, speaking to some havlin ancestry. “I jest, I jest! The charm is yours, girlie. Go on and pick it up, I can’t quite reach,”
Talis, recovered from her scare, gulps at the woman, and steps closer to the window. “I don’t need it for anything like that— but, it- it’s free, right? Hah...”, she asks as she reaches for it, earning a wry chuckle from the old woman, but nothing else. Talis picks up the cord and places the crow charm on her palm. Hissing in discomfort as a jolt of icy cold shoots up her hand and into her chest, she almost drops the charm but for the old woman’s steadying grasp on her hand, closing her hand into a fist on the charm.
When it passes, Talis exhales shakily and the woman smiles even brighter up at her. “I see! Well, well, it’s yours now!” She congratulates, and pats Talis’ shoulder fondly, guiding her to the door as if Talis were the old woman. Talis puts on the necklace, and looks at the charm. A mark on her hand that wasn’t there before draws her attention, and Talis examines her hand. It’s as if the shadow of the charm lingered there, branding her like an omen.
Before she can ask any questions, the old woman gently pushes her out the door and slams it shut, her cackle fading away slowly. When Talis turns to look back, and sees the door has vanished, leaving only a plain wall in its place. The only evidence it ever existed in the first place is the weight of the charm around her neck. “Real witchcraft...?” She asks herself as she tucks the crow under her shirt, stumbling out onto the street proper, dazed.
Talis turns and walks homeward, her feet carrying her forward as her mind wanders. She doesn’t get halfway there until it starts— a fair looking woman from out of town, an adventurer presumably, stops her in her tracks with a bright smile. She says she bought some boots recently, and they just don’t fit right. Would Talis want them? “Yes, please!” She jumps at the opportunity, trying on the shoes right there. They are, luckily, her exact size.
Amazed, Talis thanks the woman profusely, only to be shocked once more. “My party and I just got into town from a quest... we were about to visit the tavern, would you care to join?”, the adventurer asks with a confident smile, earning a confused laugh from Talis. “I- er- what, what did you say? Join- join you?” She asks, blushing deeply herself when the other woman nods.
Talis gratefully accepts, and meets the party at the tavern for drinks- planning on water, or something else free- when the barkeep beckons her over with a smile, his handlebar mustache twitching as he speaks. “There y’ar! It’s yer birthday, ain’t it? Fer ya, free drinks all night!” He declares in a cheerful bellow, getting all the rest of the bar to cheer along. It isn’t even Talis’ birth-month, but who’s going to turn down free drinks?
The night, shocking Talis further, only got better. Amidst the festivities, she drunkenly took place in a round of cards— winning the pot in her first hand. Her rewards were enough to cover rent for the rest of the season. And by the morning, the adventurer, Natalia— Talia for short, is lying bare in Talis’ arms, alongside another of the party, a beautiful elven man whose name Talis couldn’t pronounce in her drunken hours, and now couldn’t remember.
She looks at the mark on her hand, and clutches the charm still around her neck, smiling at the ceiling contently. This bad luck charm must be a dud, because Talis hasn’t had such good luck in all her life. She could get used to this, for certain! | "The bad luck charm?" The shopkeeper eyed me incredulously in a mixture of what I could only describe as fear and awe. Then, as if her mind has suddenly started moving from one disaster to another, she began explaining the "purchase" process: "I hope you don't mind if I wrap it. I'm not into superstitions ordinarily, but putting it into that window somehow gave me a hang nail. And you look fairly prone to acci..." she trailed off. I think she was paying more attention to me as our talk went on, and I imagine the little details of my appearance had started to hit home.
I could feel her eyes passing over the burn marks on my two-day-old sweater. "The sleeve?" I thought, appreciating her bafflement, "that's nothing." On camp-outs, I am never the one to build a fire -- and for good reason -- but shortly after buying this jacket, my city bus had gotten lost. Yes, lost. Yes, a city bus. It ended up at a national forest campground out of all places, out of gas, on a cold night. Even if I didn't build the fire for myself and my hapless fellow passengers, the little floating embers always have a way of finding me.
The next thing her eyes found was my left pant leg, soaked from just above the knees down to my still-sopping shoe. Her head tilted to examine the trail of muddy water behind me leading out of the shop. "Sorry about that. Also, if you're wondering what happened, I'm not sure about that one myself. I think I stepped in a puddle on the way to the shop, but I don't know how any puddle can be that deep."
At my words, she finally looked at my face, my scars, my scratched eye and my one remaining good one. I lost the bad eye a few years ago, because apparently a bald eagle will very occasionally decide humans look like prey.
"If you don't want to touch the thing," I said, "I can grab it myself. I'm quite accustomed to little accidents." She threw me a pair of keys, which I dropped. As I made my way to the display case, my shoulder brushed against a large antique coat, somehow turning its sharpest, roughest threads into splinters in my neck (basically my only exposed skin). A nearby shelf also cut my hand a little on the way, but the sharp stings from these things were mild on the scale of my regular random accidents. They certainly wouldn't slow me down. I was morbidly curious, you could say. Fascinated at the prospect of finding out just how unlucky a person could get.
A few toppled antiques later, and I grabbed the burned rabbit's foot with markings cut into its fur in several languages -- *kind of fitting,* I thought, *Burned. Scarred. We match* -- and then... nothing. A sense of relief, similar to when background noise suddenly goes quiet. The pain from the thread-fibers in my neck was gone. The feeling of discomfort from the wetness of my shoe were gone. Even the fingernails were suddenly pain-free. That never happened. I always had splinters under my fingernails. I looked in their direction, wondering how this happened, and saw all of my splinters on the floor. Sure, the dark pools of blood under my nails were still there, but somehow the pain was lessened.
I once had a conversation with a cousin of mine where I theorized that perhaps some people feel pain sharper just because of randomness. I don't know a lot about brain science, but surely, a brain that relies on electrical impulses is going to be at the mercy of electrons, which are more probabilities than they are objects. Surely there's a good chance that the neurons' own random activity simulates pain even when there isn't any. And dampens pain as well? I was beginning to wonder, considering the sudden relief.
I glanced at the shopkeeper, and found her staring intently at me. No surprise there. My walk toward the burnt rabbit's foot had been eventful, to say the least. She looked like she was on the edge of action. But it was hard to tell which action.
"Wait!" she yelled, as I raised its leather strap to drop it over my neck. She was too late, about ten feet shy when she stopped, the rabbit foot already in place. *Not superstitious?* I mused, smiling at her, *this lady really believes my luck could burn down the place.*
Seeing the bad luck charm around my neck, Hesitantly, frozen in place, she now simply said, "are you... okay?"
"Yeah, actually, never better. Maybe it was a coincidence you got that hang nail." She was wide-eyed. This whole situation was one she would be relaying to people for weeks, I could tell. None of it added up, after all. "And did you know there was a space heater over here? It's still on, and it's dried off my pants, but it could have been dangerous." How a space heater can dry off a soaked pair of pants, a shoe, and a sock in twenty seconds is something I neither know nor care to find out about.
Then we heard the bell.
The bell over the entrance, that is. It rang again and again as people began filing into the shop. Several people. And then more after that. Clearly she had more than she could handle alone. Her attention was already torn between me and her new influx of customers, but the perfect words hit my mind.
"You're clearly short-staffed for this, and I am recently unemployed," I flicked off the space heater. "But it's quite *fortunate* for you I was here to turn this off and quite *fortunate* for me this space heater was on. Oh, and look," on impulse, I pushed my hand into the coat that had given me fiber splinters earlier. No splinters this time. To the contrary, pulling out the first object I could, I examined my hand, "I just found a vintage coin! It's worth thirty dollars at least."
I walked up to her and placed the thing in her hand. Her eyes kept flicking back and forth between me and the customers now wandering her shop, but I could tell I was winning her over. This woman believed pretty heavily in luck, and I was proving myself lucky to a degree that baffled us both.
"I know you probably weren't looking for employees today, and I know I don't even have a resume, but now seems as good a time as any to try your luck."
And she did. I worked ten hours that day, she made enough money to gladly pay me overtime, and the second I got home I fell into the best, most refreshing night of sleep in my life.
---
*UPDATE: (I realized I found the ending kind of dull, so I'm adding this in post)*
"Fast forward through a few more days of that," I told the customer across the counter, "and that brings us here. You asked why the regular shopkeeper isn't working the shop today? It's because the shop is doing so well. She was able to take the day off."
The foot traffic had died down while I answered the question, but it was starting to come back in perfect timing to the end of my story. "I'll have to get back to work pretty soon here, but do you have any other questions?"
The customer handed me a notebook and asked me to rip out a page. Obliging, I found writing revealing itself on the page like a piece of magic parchment in some cartoon. Before I could comprehend what I was looking at, the customer had taken a picture of it, turned, and left the shop.
* STR 15 (12 + 3)
* INT 20 (8 + 12)
* CHA 20 (10 + 10)
* MAG 50 (0 + 50)
* LCK 9999 (0 - 1)
There was a lot to take in. But the first thought that occurred to me when I looked over the page was about the vest I had pulled out of the shop's attic and decided to start wearing today. Admiring it, I mused, "I knew this vest was magic." | 2020-01-12T15:46:55 | 2020-01-12T15:03:24 | 31 | 16 |
[WP] Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species. | At a glance, it was a barren planet. Indistinguishable from billions of other planets in the Milky Way.
The first giveaway of something extraordinary was its radiation signature; way beyond the expected range for its class.
Closer inspection revealed ancient structures. Another civilization that burned itself out. Still not that uncommon.
But once a probe was sent down to radiodate the structures, an existential panic rippled across the galaxy. The species on this planet had reached its peak billions of years before any previously known intelligent life forms had evolved.
The electronic devices of this civilization had long since decayed. However, above the floating wreckage of orbiting satellite fragments (and one Tesla) was the final testament to the human race. Shielded from radiation, preserved at near zero degrees Kelvin, its data structure was intact. The information was stored in a format to be read by any civilization.
“We have failed.
“We have failed our own interest, assuring our mutual destruction. We have failed an even greater calling. A calling to spread to the stars. To spread life and vibrance across the night sky.
“We were reckless. In our race to the future, we derailed. Greed, envy, and above all, intolerance, were our undoing. We were not worthy of the stars.
“Our world lays smoldering. In our final gasp, we choose to breath life into the aether. We spread packets of single celled life to the most fertile planets. May this seed a life form better than ourselves. One worthy to inherit the stars...”
One by one, each warring races across the galaxy made a pilgrimage to “Earth”. To the genesis of their race, of all races. A common ancestry bound these disparate races together. A common threat, met by their progenitor race, served as a warning to would be warmongers.
A golden age of prosperity rises from the fertile ashes of the humans empire, may they rest in peace. | He have reason to believe life has once existed here, long before us, not just any life however, intelligent life.
From the years of excavations and searching, we have come this conclusion.
Fortunately we have found skeletons of the life that once lived here, and as such and DNA traces as well.
When compared to the advanced life forms who call themselves “Terrans” the DNA is extremely similar, when compared with their history the story of this planet we have since dubbed “Terra Originis.”
According to their history records Terra Originis used to host countless numbers of organisms until an unknown event occurred causing the atmosphere to vaporize killing almost all inhabitants. The Terrans however sought to colonize another planet in hopes of surviving elsewhere.
Carbon dating testing shows the skeletons are older than our entire species, in retrospect it makes sense considering how much advanced the Terrans are compared to us.
Our leaders in attempts to repair recently broken relationships with the empire of Terra have proposed to make the planet suitable for life once more, it’s possible but it will require help from them.
They have agreed, but not all of them, it’s what the Terrans do best, they fight amongst themselves and split into factions, all for no reason, it matters not however.
We need their secrets at all costs, we saw them turn the planet Selvack from a wasteland into a paradise, perhaps we could learn that too. | 2019-08-13T16:22:41 | 2019-08-13T16:13:15 | 32 | 16 |
[WP] You are a superhero, no one knows about your alter ego. Not even your spouse. You return home tired and disappointed one day after failing to capture your archnemises. You enter your bedroom to find your spouse struggling to get out of the costume of your archnemises. | "Hi... honey. You're home early! Uh, how was the office?"
I blinked. Miranda was still wearing the bottom half of the Miragemancer's combat robes. Miragemancer, who just two hours ago was juggling me between two of her illusion clones in a four-person keep-upsises game that wouldn't have been out of place in a Smash Brothers video game, before losing me because I was chasing the wrong clone. Again. And now here she was, in my—our—bedroom. My throat ran dry as my mouth fumbled out some words.
"What's all this?" I ventured.
"Oh, you caught me in the middle of trying on my halloween costume. I was hoping it'd be a surprise, but, you like?" She stood up straighter, and placed a hand on her hip; an old favorite from when we were dating. Her smile was so confident, and there was no hesitation in her voice or eyes. I almost wanted to believe her, but I saw the cut on the costume's leggings, a cut left behind from when I tried to stop her escape with the grapple-launchers' multi-hooks. There could be no mistake. But I rallied. Two years of Academy alter-ego classes were not about to go to waste!
"You're dressing up as the Miragemancer?"
"Yeah! She's cool, right? She looks great on TV." I rolled my eyes.
"Sweetheart, she robs banks and I'm pretty sure she kidnapped the mayor last week." Miranda pouted. Supervillain or no, she could still be devastatingly disarming when she wanted to be.
"Yeah, but she only robs banks that deserve it! Plus, the she let the mayor go after he promised to come clean about his campaign fund mismanagement. She's not the worst supervillain out there."
I raised my eyebrows.
"You know a lot of supervillains?"
She hesitated. For a moment, the mask of confidence fell.
"Well... I mean, I watch the news! It gets boring around here while you're at work. Anyway, the surprise is ruined, so help me get out of this, won't ya? I'll let you get the back zipper." The light tease in her voice was so familiar. Memories of a hundred taunts and jabs during our many battles all clicked into place. How had I not caught on earlier? Miranda must've picked up on my hesitation, because she hmphed to herself as the sound of the zipper reached my ears.
"Fine, I'll do it myself. You'd think my husband would be happy to help his poor wifey out after leaving her home alone all day." She threw in a few sniffles for good measure.
"Sorry, I was just... thinking."
"About?"
"Well, about work, actually."
"Anything interesting happen today?"
I swallowed, and tried my best for a cool and collected smile. Might as well come clean with it, I figured. It'd be nice to catch her off guard for once, at the very least.
"Yeah, actually. It's not every day you fight someone in a subway station, and then they drag it out all the way to the Eastside Apartment rooftops, you know?"
"Wha-what do you mean?"
"I mean the Miragemancer really brought her A-game today. She was just really going all out, and was even feistier than last week!"
Her confusion was written large across her face.
"Did, did media coverage of another fight come out already?"
"Well, I guess you can say I've got an eyewitness account," I said, taking my Cobalt Carabiner mask out from my pocket and flashing it to her.
"Wait, you're..." she started, before her voice petered out into the silence that encompassed the bedroom.
"I am. And you're..."
She nodded. Then she lunged at me. Instinct told me the angle of her attack, and I raised my hands to try and block, but I was clearly distracted, and we tumbled to the floor. My heart raced, and I tried to free my arms from where she had pinned them above my head, but Miranda was deceptively strong. I flinched as her face hovered over me, but gasped when I felt her soft lips against my neck.
"Miranda?" I whispered.
"Now I don't feel so guilty for always thinking that the Cobalt Carabiner was damned handsome," she growled, still pecking at my neck. My chest began to rumble with laughter, coming out first as small chuckles, but devolving into hearty and deep-bellied laughs that she soon joined in on.
"We've... we've been trying to capture each other for... oh lord, what, 2 years now?" I managed through the laughs.
"Speak for yourself, Mr. Goody Two-Shoes. I've definitely been going for the kill."
"Well, I consider myself very lucky then. Besides, if you wanted to defeat me I'm surprised you didn't just invite your parents over without telling me first."
Her expression hardened.
"For that joke, I'm going to beat you up with FOUR clones next week."
"Oh, spare me, darling, please! I'm still smarting all over from the three you had today." We both dissolved into giggles again, the absurdity of the situation continuing to catch us off guard.
"So, what happens now?" I asked, after I had wrestled my lungs back into compliance.
"Well, I think it's pretty simple." A devious look crossed her face.
"Oh?"
"Well, I think it's time I get some payback for today." She began tugging at my shirt. I gulped.
"Payback? But you WON the fight today!"
"Yeah, but some JERK tried to tie me up with grapples and turbo-bolas, and also he threw a few good punches that really hurt." She looked at me accusingly.
"Oh really? Where's the bastard at? I'll kill him!"
"Well, I'm not really worried about him, but I do need my big strong husband to come and kiss all those places better."
I smiled. "I can do that, love."
I leaned in, just about to press my mouth to her tummy, before hesitating just a moment.
"Wait, Miranda... what do we do? About all of this?"
But then I felt a tender hand lightly press on the back of my head, scratching softly as her hushed voice reached my ears.
"Hush darling. We'll worry about that tomorrow."
I liked that. Tomorrow. | (This is my first submission and also I'm on mobile)
"Hello dear," Valerie said as she finally pulled the multicolored garments of Cyberflux free and tossed it in the open closet door, then slamming it shut rather quickly, "you're home late."
My blood froze. I stood there motionless in the doorway to our bedroom. Something about this was wrong, very wrong. Perhaps I had just imagined it. It had been a long day. I could feel the aches and pains in my bones. Even my powers had limits after all.
Still I could have sworn that's what I saw. No. Perhaps Valerie owned a similarly colored dress. What was she wearing this morning? I can't quite remember. I had taken a few energy blasts to the head today but still. I can remember kissing her on the cheek on my way out the door but that happens everyday. Perhaps...
"Honey? Are you all right?," she asked. The world lurched as I came out of my own head. There in front of me was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her long raven hair cascaded down her back in flowing waves. Her glistening green eyes stared at me. They always seemed like there was something unnatural about those eyes. Perhaps tonight he had finally learned the reason. No. I won't think like that. Second guessing the woman I love wouldn't help bring Cyberflux fo justice.
"I'm alright." I said finally, doing my best to sound normal, "Its just been a long day. I'm tired."
"Oh honey..." Valerie said, genuine concern dripping from each word, "do you want to talk about it?"
I crossed the room and sat on our bed. How could I ever second guess her? Even for a second?
"No I just think I'm going to call it an early night tonight and get some sleep. I'll be okay in the morning." I said.
Valerie turned away, gathering things for her nightly rituals. She had a slender yet powerful build. She moved with a natural grace that never failed to draw my attention. Valerie had always captured people's attention with her ability to make even the most simple of acts look like a fluid elegant performance. Finally she placed a fluffy pink bathrobe over her shoulder and turned back to me.
"Well I'm going to get a shower. Why dont you go relax in your den and wait for me? We'll come up with some way to help you blow off some steam." she said, coy smile spreading across her face.
"You know what? That doesn't sound half bad, " I said standing to leave. Valerie ushered me toward the door. I turned to her. She brought her lips to mine and we kissed, quickly yet tenderly. Then she broke it off and shut the door.
I proceeded downstairs but paused at the bottom of the stairs. Ordinarily that would have been a great way to return home but tonight was different. Something still ate at the back of my mind.
Upstairs the sound of the shower handle being turned resonated followed by the clatter of water onto tile.
I'm being ridiculous. There's no reason to suspect anything. So she has some clothes that look like my greatest enemy? That doesn't mean anything. I only saw it for a second. How can I even be sure what I saw?
The answer was easier to find than I'd have liked. A second is more than enough for me.
I turned around. I had to be sure but I also had to be careful. My body began to glow. The familiar sensation of heat ran through me. My powers were diminished at night but they should still work for this. Slowly my body raised from the ground. It took minimal effort to fly through the house but a lot of effort to keep my glowing energy to a minimum. I had to go slow.
My heart carried me up the stairs and into the bedroom. For once I was happy I never had time to fix things around here. The door latch never shut properly and was already open. The closet was still slightly ajar. Valerie had closed it rather hastily.
I didn't land until I was in the closet and the door was shut behind me. It was a simple rectanglular walk in closet. One wall had a shelf running its length for shoes. The other held countless dresses and outfits all hung up on a series of rods. Valerie had loved it when the realtor was showing it to us. She had enough clothes to outfit an army but none of then matched what I saw earlier.
How many times had i been in this closet? A million? There wasn't anything out of the ordinary here. There couldn't be. Or maybe I had just never looked. I closed my eyes and concentrated. Everything gave off heat. If I focused I could see it. The back wall, it was giving off some. A lot. I opened my eyes. It was a normal wall.
On the back shelf next to it sat a lurid purple pair of high heels. Had those always been there? They must have. But still they were giving off heat too. Not as much as the wall but enough to notice now that he was looking for something. Could they really...
I pulled left show. There was a click and then the back wall slid down. It revealed a small compartment with a mannequin. A mannequin wearing the helmet of Cyberflux.
Wait if the helmet was here where was the suit?
"I'm so sorry, my beloved" said a voice.
Light flashed around me. A force field. I was trapped. I turned and there stood Valerie. But she was different. Fiercer. The look of someone who wasn't to be trifled with. I had never seen that look before.
She wore the familiar purple suit of Cyberflux. She held her arm outstretched. Her hand pulsated with blue energy and she was pointed directly at my chest. I tried to say something but the words caught in my throat.
"Falling in love with you wasn't part of the plan, " she said. For a moment she lost that fearsome expression. Then everything turned white. | 2020-10-30T11:58:10 | 2020-10-30T11:56:26 | 1,069 | 197 |
[WP] Alternate universe where emotional scars are visible on the body
For example: A large gash across the chest could be representative of your mother's death | The wound opens up as her father bustles out of the front door, suitcase in hand, and slams it without a backward glance. She feels blood seeping down her back, like her shoulder is weeping. It doesn’t hurt, but she feels so numb, so confused, that she half wishes it did. From the doorway she watches her mother sitting in their immaculate dining room, staring at the empty place opposite, and smoking with automatic motions until she notices her daughter and comes out of her reverie.
‘I see you’re as affected as me.’ She says sarcastically from her cloud of smoke.
The girl turns around and points to her back, her mother sighs.
‘Ruined a perfectly good shirt. Might want to be careful, we can’t really afford a replacement right now.’
The girl starts to cry and the wound opens up a little more, spreading up her neck. This, apparently, is too much for the woman.
‘Stop that.’ She hisses, as if she doesn’t know that is impossible. ‘Stop that *at once*. You’re making it visible, do you want people at school to know what’s happened? Don’t you know what they’ll *say* about us?’
The girl shakes her head fervently and screws her eyes shut tight, praying the wound stops opening. She smells the smoke before she feels the arm snaking round her shoulder. She can feel her mother stroking her hair perfunctorily, but it does the trick and she feels the wound begin to clot.
‘You’ll take the week off school as it heals. I’ll phone in and say you’re sick. We can do nice things, like… I don’t know, we’ll watch movies. Bake cookies. Get a dog.’ All things they have never done, things the girl can’t imagine this immaculate and cold woman doing. The fingers wind through her hair again. ‘And when it’s healed up, I’ll show you how to cover it up properly. So no one can see. So no one can judge us.’
The girl thinks suddenly of her mother’s smooth, unnervingly perfect face, and the compact that is never far from her hands.
| The sun scorched high in the sky, not giving in as the California sun raised the temperature to nearly 40C.
Kids splashed in the pool, shot water at each other and generally did what kids did. All of them had pure skin, no more than a small white scar here or there from small incidents.
The loud chatter of the pool quickly quieted down when a younger woman in a bikini began wading into the pool. People stared. They stared hard, but she silently entered the shallow end of the pool, ignoring them. Huge gaping areas of grey easily covered more than half her skin, and a flurry of small grey lines to accompany them too. She wore no more than a bikini, refusing to cover the taboo of her scars.
I smiled and entered the pool from the deep end, diving under and watching the sea of legs, but I knew which ones were hers. I could already see people moving away from her legs, but I ignored that and swam towards the warped image of her grey and pale legs.
As I surfaced she smiled back at me, her bright brown eyes twinkling and her long blonde hair sitting perfectly in place.
"Crazy broken scarred freak." an old wrinkly form of a woman loudly commented.
I wrapped my arms around her and brought her in closer, lightly bumping noses.
"Broken but now healed," I whispered.
"Broken but now healed." she responded back.
-------------
Alright I have to admit that was one of the cheesiest things I've ever written in my life, and I did a project on Cheetos in 4th grade or something like that. However, any writing practice is practice. | 2016-03-25T13:45:16 | 2016-03-25T13:34:43 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] One day, every city that shares a name has a portal open up, connecting them all with each other. Paris, Texas has a great time with it, and many cities celebrate their new neighbors. You, however, live in Hell, Michigan, and things are starting to get strange. | "What is all of this lawlessness?! What is all of this chaos?!"
I looked over at the screaming man and nodded empathetically. I knew exactly what he meant.
Ever since the Merge, there had been a huge shift in Hell, Michigan.
The pros: Even during winter, it was warm. The cons? We kept hearing about the lawlessness, the chaos, the wide-spread damage and destruction...
From the denizens of the *real* Hell.
A demon-human hybrid stood to my left, chastising the humans for their lack of pride, their lack of decorum.
"Man, shut up, we all just trying to get to work!" Complained one youth who stood with us at the bus stop.
"No, really- I get that this is Michigan, but shouldn't you guys be taking better care of your own neighborhoods?"
"Hard to give a damn when *literally* no one else gives a damn." Replied the youth, as he put on headphones.
Again, I looked at the demon-human hybrid with empathy. "It's tough. I know that where you come from, there is excessive pride in your possessions and surroundings- things were scrubbed clean with Hellfire automatically, and tall, pristine castles of Obsidian were the *average* home- but out here, we have an economy...a bad one. We're all just doing what we can to get by and enjoy what little free time we get."
The hybrid wasn't willing to accept this. He continued to chastise passer-by's until I, too, put on headphones...allowing myself to slip into a grey fog of inattentiveness about...everything. My home, my neighborhood, my entire life.
Because being in a fog was easier than paying attention. | “Hey James, pass me the lava bits.” James was usually a horrible roommate, but he was doing okay recently. James is a human man that walked through the portal a week ago. We are best buddies now, but he was a pain in the fiery a** at first. This guy thought it was ok to wear his dirty sneakers in my crimson-floored home. What a dirty person - us demons would never.
“Jameyyyyy..James?” I walk around the house looking for him, but he’s no where to be found. I suddenly head a loud sound out of nowhere.
“BURPPPPP....oops.”
“Gordon! I told you not to eat this James! He was doing well.”
I go back to my couch and then on the TV.
I whisper to myself “3..2...1..”
A portal opens in my kitchen.
“Hi. My name is -“
I look back to see a person who was shorter than James #17, but this one had green eyes. I smile at him.
“You’re James now.”
I look back at my TV. I can hear Gordon’s loud voice in the background.
“HoOmans NevA LeaRn..” he said. | 2020-09-25T15:34:37 | 2020-09-25T15:06:53 | 366 | 92 |
[WP] The plot twist is that it was rubber ducky. The rest is up to you. | “MOM!” the girls screamed.
“What is it honey?”
“It’s here again?”
Her mother sighs and starts walking up the stairs.
“We’ve been over this before Patricia. There never was, and still is no monster in your closet.”
She’s met only by silence when she reaches the second floor of the house. Opening the door, the room is vaguely lit by only the light in the hallway and Patricia’s nightlight in the socket by her bed. She steps in and sees her daughter hiding under her cover. She walks to the closet and grips the handle and opens it.
“See… there’s nothing her but your clothes and toys.”
She turns around. Her daughter hadn’t made a move. Wanting to comfort her, she sits down o the bed beside her.
“There is no thing as a monster, honey. You’ll always sleep safely at home.” she says softly. Pulling off the cover, to her horror, she only found a rubber duck.
| I jolted awake.
Why, in God's name, was there a Rubber Ducky on the floor? What could have led up to this?
I get out of my bed and start walking towards my Kitchen. Honestly, I don't care about the duck, I'm starving. So, I enter the kitchen, open the fridge.
I groan.
Someone replaced everything in my fridge with Rubber Ducks.
This is getting annoying.
edit: Hey look, my first response to a prompt on this sub was about Rubber Ducks. Nice. | 2018-03-21T09:10:04 | 2018-03-21T08:47:57 | 43 | 21 |
[WP] "Is... Is it dead?" the hero asked as the troll collapsed in front of them. They didn't expect to get a response when they heard someone answer ""It" had a name and "it" was my friend you colossal asshole!" | Igo was never strong. Of all the members of his tribe, he was the weakest by far. He was a cowardly weakling who preferred books to battle, and he was bullied mercilessly for it. Yet still, Balthor liked him. Ever since he saved Igo from the older kids, the two had been inseparable. Eventually, the two got fed up and moved away from their tribe, building a lair and a life together.
The two made their way by mining for gems and precious metals. Igo would find the goods using his knowledge of geology, and a magic geo-finder device that he made, that helped too. After the goods were located, Balthor would dig them out with his claws. They lived their simple life in bliss, not really noticing as the humans settled closer and closer to their home. That is, until the adventures started coming.
At first they were civil, asking the two to leave so that the area could be converted to a settlement. The humans needed copious amounts of land to graze their animals with, and they had an ambitious plan to raze the area and replant it with grass seeds. The two refused to leave, they’d lived there longer than the humans after all. Then they threatened, they said that the land would be razed with or without their cooperation, and that they’d leave if they didn’t fancy being buried alive. Finally, they sent the adventures.
The adventures, groups of humans trained to kill monsters. The definition of monster has always been vague, and all it took for the two to be labeled as such was the offer of a few gold coins. So the two prepared, setting traps and tricks, intended to fend off any intruders. It worked, for a while.
One day, a particularly tenacious party managed to make their way past the traps. Beleaguered and stumbling, they entered the final chamber where Balthor waited. He was the last line of defense. Igo was leaving the lair through the secret exit when he heard the sound of his friend collapsing. Igo dashed back through the cave and into the chamber where he heard the swordsman, the party’s leader ask if “it” was dead. *It*. **It**. Igo could not control himself. He knew that Balthor would want him to run, but he could not leave his only friend to die unavenged. Even if he could not beat the humans, at least Igo would soon be with his friend in the Beyond.
Igo snuck around back of the adventurers, hammer in hand. It was tradition for trollish parents to forge warhammers for their children as gifts when they moved out, though Igo hadn’t received one from his own family, Balthor had crafted one for him. It was his prized possession, and now it would avenge its maker. Igo took a swing at the troublesome rouge who had poisoned Balthor with a dart, splattering the young girl’s brainmatter all over her compatriots. Igo thought that he should have felt guilty, but he didn’t. His next victim was the party’s wizard, then the swordsman, the one who had called Balthor *it*. The healer was allowed to live just long enough to tell Igo that his friend was beyond saving.
Igo then buried his friend, and wept. He vowed never to leave the place where Balthor lay, never to let the humans claim victory. By the time Igo himself passed away, he had become legend. Few adventurer dared to challenge his lair, and those who did left with deep scars or not at all. Eventually, they stopped coming all together. Igo died in peace, eager to see Balthor again, and to share the many stories he had gathered with his friend. | "And why did you mutter that to yourself anyway, Sherlock Holmes? You with your shining armor and your pride face and straight back, were you gonna bury him if he was dead? Oh, no! Oh course not! Too busy 'protecting the land'. Poking and prodding and getting into other people's business. You know, one of you folk barged in on me mum and dad, they was just enjoying a cuppa. Yous said you'd had reports in the area of a suspicious lookin troll and you needed to search my pappies. The brute felt up me mum and punched around me pop and you're gonna come around here now, sporting the same family crest, pretending you're doing anyone any fucking good. Well, I'm here to tell you you aren't going to play detective like this is some board game. Show some respect to a fallen brother, asshole."
The troll stood a bit above three feet, somewhat egg shaped. He paced circles around his buddy, keeping his eyes and chest directed at Knight Edgar Olfact, alternating between sidesteps and forward and backward walking.
The pit in Edgar's stomach grew, growing deeper as he realized his dad most likely had fondled a trolls tits, though it also gave Edgar some comfort; he was only human. He was forgivable. He had long held deep shame for groping a curvy goblin, even sharing a kiss.
Edgar lifted the visor on his full helm and ascertained the surroundings before removing the helm altogether. He attached the helm to the loop on his horse's saddle before taking a respectful, thoughtful, deliberate three steps forward in front of the fallen troll.
Edgar's sword sang as it left its sheath. Edgar swished the metal in a figure eight to signify infinity, ending with the sword pointed straight vertically, Edgar then methodically replaced the sword in its scabbard.
"And that's about fucking right, innit, cunt! That's about the thanks the chap gets, slaving in this forest his whole life. Lotta good it did. Thanks for your service." The troll spat the last line, scrunching his face in anger as it glared at Edgar.
Edgar knelt on both knees in front of the troll's corpse, prepared to send him to the other side. Regardless of the species of soul, a peaceful departure was necessary and was usually eased along via a kind prayer after its death.
Edgar cleared his throat. "What's his name, son?"
The troll came running with the speed of a limping chihuahua and battered Edgar with fists as powerful as his cousin's toddler. "*Her* name was Rose!" He squealed, punctuating each word with a blow that stung like cotton candy.
Edgar bowed his head and clasped his hands between his knees.
"From the rivers to the oceans we remember Rose. From the mountains to the canyons we treasure our time with Rose. From the caves to the prairies we give Rose our goodwill, so we may stead her on her journey towards You and Everyone Else. Through Your work, and the work of Us All, thy will be done. Amen." It was a simple blessing, taught to school children.
The little troll accepted Edgar's offer of a hankey and honked his nose loudly.
"Thanks." The word came with huge effort, like forcing a rock through his throat. The gratitude was lost in the wind; the hero strolled on. | 2022-10-23T21:37:21 | 2022-10-23T21:30:38 | 53 | 11 |
[WP] As someone is time travelling and changing the past, you have to live in a constantly changing present.
Someone is time travelling and changing past events. You, a completely normal person living in the present, have to deal with constant alterations of your life. | I eyed the piece of bacon on my plate suspiciously. It looked more like a bacon-shaped and bacon-scented dog treat than *actual* bacon. "Honey, what is this?"
She slid the eggs out of the frying pan onto my plate and made a regretful face. "I know, I'm sorry. It's some kind of soy bacon. Some environmental terrorists managed to get ahold of one of the time warp portals and went back to fiddle with the 1950s. Somehow they managed to convince the U.S. Government that meat products were related to communism or something. I didn't have time to read the report very closely. The point is that everything is vegetarian now. Even the eggs are..." She sneered at the pile of yellow on my plate, "well, I don't exactly know what they are. Should be fixed by lunch though."
I sighed and bit into the bacon. It had the texture of rubber, and the taste wasn't too far off either. Damn time meddlers. Every day some other crazy group decides to go back and change things, thinking that maybe no one in the present will notice. It seems like I constantly wake up in the Third Reich when some stupid college kid builds a closet time machine and goes back to make Hitler a martyr or something. I could deal with a little soy bacon if that was going to be the worst of today's time corrections.
"What are you plans for today, honey?" I asked, biting into my toast. At least strawberry jam was the same.
"Paul has that field trip today for science class," she said. "Cretaceous period." She nodded over to the plastic suits in the corner that would pretty much immobilize our son while he was back in time. Wouldn't want someone stepping on the wrong little mammal or something like that. "The school is requiring twice the normal number of parents after the American Revolution incident." I rolled my eyes. Some punk in our daughter's class had decided that the lamp from Old North Church would make for a nice souvenir and had accidentally prevented America from ever existing. Boy, the Time Rectification Division had *not* been happy about that and even threatened to cancel all time trips for every student in the district. Luckily the History department had enough clout with the administration to make sure that didn't happen.
I checked my watch. "Well, hon, as much as I loved eating my blobs of soy," I grinned as she scowled at me, "I must be off to work." I grabbed my keys, gave her a kiss, and headed towards the door.
She waved the morning time rectification report at me. "Take the I-16 instead of your normal route. It looks like..." she studied the screen a bit closer, "Wow, that's a doozy. Someone apparently went back to pre-Columbian America and formed an empire for themselves. The Rectification Division is still getting rid of the monumental statues where the highway used to be." I rolled my eyes. More megalomaniacs going back and playing god with advanced technology.
I headed out to my car. Just as I reached for the door handle, everything began to shimmer in a time slip. "Oh, come on!" I growled, checking my watch again. With the traffic diversion, I was *already* going to be late.
When everything solidified again, my gleaming new car was gone, replaced by what looked like an old steam-powered Model-T. "Great," I grumbled, sliding into the seat and trying to work the bellows enough to get this pile of junk moving. Yet another day where someone decides to fix global warming by preventing humans from every using fossil fuels. "Just fucking great."
| "Janette, will you marry me?"
She looks at me and her eyes shine with tears. "Oh, Hal. Yes. Yes! Of course!"
I stand and force my face into a smile I know will make my cheeks ache. We reach for each other, my arms outstretched to pull her in and kiss her.
And suddenly I'm not in a fancy restaurant eating dinner. It's noon and I'm in a coffee shop. I look toward the menu - the standard drill by now - and see that the words are written in Italian.
I sigh and fish in my pocket looking for a cellphone. I dial the first number that - thankfully - is still in my phone.
My mother picks up.
"Mom, where am I?"
Her voice crackles on the other line. "Hal? Oh, Hal! Oh what a strange question. How's Italy? You know you called in the middle of the night? Well what a strange way to wake your mother, simply asking where you--"
I hang up. She'll forgive me in a few minutes.
Well, she won't remember anyway. Or something. I'm not quite sure how it works.
Something is happening. I woke up one morning and everything started to change. I wasn't in my apartment in Indiana - I was in a Taiwanese classroom surrounded by six year olds who were calling me teacher. Then I was on a mountain somewhere with a man who clapped me on the back and told me I was his best friend. An hour later I went to a world where everyone looked like me - blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin. Thank God I left that world and went somewhere else.
The problem is that I seem to be the only one who remembers these journeys. For everyone else it's just life. Each world seems to keep certain aspects - my parents don't change. I still have their phone number in the cell phone that I've always had.
I'm stuck in Italy for the better part of a day. I guess *stuck* isn't the optimal word here, but it's not my favorite place to be. I wander the streets. The sun heats my back and I know that I've created some sort of sweat stain on my back. I grimace and hope it goes away with the next jump.
Then it happens. It always happens. I switch. One moment I'm on a street in Italy and the next I'm somewhere cold. So cold. The wind cuts through my suit jacket and I rummage in my pocket for my cellphone.
Except there's a problem. It isn't there.
In front of me is a hut. I walk toward it, my shoes filling with snow that rapidly melts and makes my toes go numb. I open the door and step inside, shivering in the chill as I watch my breath rise up in front of me.
Surprisingly, the hut has a note in it.
*Hal,*
*Having fun? I've finally figured out how to do what we promised we would as children. I'll give you forty eight hours, then we're starting over. Catch me if you can.*
I close my eyes and exhale. Everything is starting to make sense.
*Little brothers.* | 2016-05-18T06:10:14 | 2016-05-18T04:54:23 | 393 | 64 |
[WP] You're the "weakling" tea maker. People think you're a burden on the hero's party. But it's the enchantments from your premium teas that boost the party to world-class. Bandits kidnap you to blackmail the hero. Leaving you in a cell with your tea supplies was a mistake. It's tea time. | "You know, it's refreshing being able to talk to someone about this. I mean, *genuinely* talk to someone, you know?" I said and looked at the man next to me. He stared blankly into the distance, not choosing to answer. I took another sip of my tea.
"People always think I'm just a drag on my brother and his fellow heroes. 'Just a tea maker' they say. Think I'm some sort of a mascot. A tagalong."
Another sip. The man remained silent.
"They'll never know how much my teas do. Don't get me wrong- my brother and his friends are immensely skilled warriors and it *is* for the best the world ultimately attributes our victories to them. But, the tea is..." I motioned my hand, "it's the *difference*, you know?"
Another would-be kidnapper stumbled into the room with a piece of wood lodged into his abdomen. I watched calmly as he managed to brandish a knife and make several steps toward me before blood loss finally knocked him down. I took another sip of tea.
"It's not easy, you know? Making the teas. Requires special ingredients, enchantment, sleepless nights concocting the perfect brew... did you know several of my teas even use souls as catalysts? Yes, yes, I know, *unsavoury*, but those teas, well, those pack a *real* punch."
I finished my tea and smiled at the man. He didn't take a single sip; I was almost insulted. I sighed.
"You *really* shouldn't have let me keep my brewing supplies."
His eyes were completely milky white, skin pale and cold. I think he was just about done stewing. I closed my fist, crushing my teacup and drawing a bit of blood, and held the blood soaked ceramic dust next to his mouth. A thin string of wispy fog flowed from his lips and into my hand, giving the mixture a soft silvery glow.
"I think I'll pair you with chamomille." | It's been a week. I needed the bandit's trust. I also needed to know that my party *weren't* coming for me. I've been making plain teas - first for myself, then, on day three, the bandits decided they wanted to try one. Now I'm enslaved as their tea maker. I imagine they don't plan to let me go now... but that doesn't matter. I'm ready to spring my trap.
I'm making the teas as usual, but today I'm adding a secret ingredient... I'm adding a sleep enchantment to all the bandit's teas. My own tea is being given a strength enchantment, extra strong, so I can get back to my party *with* the bandits. "Here you go" I say, as I pass the tea around.
Fast forward a couple hours. The bandits have been out for an hour, and, unbeknownst to them, are currently being carried by myself, thanks to my strength-enriching tea, back to my party's base. I'm just coming up on it, and I hear a voice... "I told you all she knew what she was doing!" exclaimed the hero, as my party all come to greet me.
A couple hours later, the bandits are waking up... in the dungeon. I'm standing right there, grinning. "Bet you thought I was just a simple tea maker" I taunt. "Well, guess this is what you get for being bandits!" | 2022-08-22T12:02:49 | 2022-08-22T09:53:05 | 590 | 201 |
[WP] John Wick is contracted to take out what seemed like a usual mark. Billionaire, heir, playboy, general layabout, Bruce Wayne. | It is not everyday you find a guy like Bruce Wayne in a Coffee shop. This was my chance.
The crowd in the shop was crazy. The prince of Gotham was mingling amongst them.
I walked up to him.
“Mr. Wayne, I am a huge fan. My father used to be very sick when I was a child. You father paid for his treatment. He paid for my school.”
“It is great to see that you got the opportunity to rise from your misfortune.”
“I can never repay your family’s debt, But please, please allow me to buy you a coffee”
“Oh, great! This crowd is really enthusiastic, I could use some coffee”
The crowd was enthusiastic. He had them Enchanted. They laughed at his jokes, Listened silently when he told stories of his father. They loved his father. And it was obvious they loved him. He connected with these people who had come in for their morning coffee on their way to the daily grind, he didn’t know their lives, he has never taken the train to work. Yet they loved him.
But I can’t admire him. It is sad that this man needs to die. But that is not my problem. One last job, and then I am out of this life. My wife would hate me if I told her that I was his killer.
“Two espressos, large”
This dude also has espressos. ‘Dean’, I’ll have them write the same name on my cup.
“Your name, please”
“Dean”
This is the cleanest way. The cafe is crowded. I have cut the power to the CCTV module. The police will probably think he had taken the nilomycin on his cruise yesterday, and it mixed with the Caffeine.
“Thank you Mr. Wayne. For giving me this opportunity.”
“Thank you, for the coffee”
He sips it. Asks me about my fathers illness.
Something is off. He stopped after 3 sips.
His assistant walks in.
“Mr. Wayne. We need to leave for the Tower Meeting now.”
He has started sweating.
“Thank you, Mr. ...”
“Waters”
“Mr. Waters, Thank you for the coffee. I am sorry, I must get going now.”
He spilled some coffee on the table. Gave the cup to his secretary. “I’ll drink this in the car” She obliged. She walked after him, with the coffee, Hurrying to open the car door. He hits his head on the car roof. His secretary is confused. He takes the coffee from her. Shuts off the door. The car leaves swiftly.
My job is done. Even if he realises, what happened his doctors will treat him for the regular poisons. The continental keeps the nilomycin a secret, and heavily protects the secret. Nobody knows if they do have a cure or not. At least they don’t tell.
I open up the champagne in the kitchen. My wife is in the bedroom. It is time for celebration. We are moving to Alaska this summer. No more hits. No more Continental. No more guns. Just me my wife and our dog.
I can’t believe I have retired. The champagne smells great.
I am dizzy. My head feels like a hurricane. Things are floating as if thee is no gravity. It must be the champagne.
It is dark. It smells of shit. The air is damp. I am tied to a chair.
A loud and rough voice asks me from behind.
“Where did you get the nilomycin?” | "You think this is kinda our fault, somehow?"
Taking a quick drag, the shorter of the two detectives grunted. A fog of smoke slowly wafted around the study.
"I mean, us not saying anything. About the bat thing..."
A scowl.
"Come on, Jack. You think no crazy sunnofabitch ever came up to him at one of those fancy fundraising events, you know, with the caviar and suits and stuff? Just start telling him that we all know? That the city ain't stupid? Course we said it to him."
"I guess. But he still thought he wa-"
"He didn't think he was. He was, man. Broken. You know the commissioner actually sent out a memo few years back? Askin' us not to mention it in front of him anymore? Apparently it was better for him to think it was a secret. Every time someone mentioned they knew, he'd smack em around in this very office for a couple hours, you know, 'interrogate' em. Then he drops em off with Gordon, who has to blow smoke up his ass for bringing in a supervillain or mastermind or whatever makes Brucie here happy. Next day? Mr. Wayne's repressed the memory already. Can't remember a new face. His file says he's got some condition, paranoid delusions, split personalities, whatever. Some Freud bullshit."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Guy funds half the fucking force though. Least we can do is pretend we don't know about the bat thing and turn a blind eye to what happens to anyone dumb enough to mention it in front of him."
The younger detective paused for a moment.
"Funded. He funded half the fucking force."
"Yeah. Hope he left us a trust or something. What do we got?"
"Shooter came in through there. Front door. One between the eyes, looks as if Mr. Wayne was turning round to see who it was. Dead before he hit the ground. Second to the temple, point blanc, execution style. Casings don't match anything I've ever seen sold in Gotham, probably some foreign stuff."
"He left the casings?"
"Honestly, it don't look like this guy was trying to cover it up. Forensics couldn't find anything this morning that shouldn't be here. This was professional. Hun'red bucks says we ain't getting shit from the casings."
A nod.
"Probably a business thing then. Guy like him got to have enemies, I think."
"Yeah. Open files on the desk show some kinda financial transactions. It'll end up being something in the numbers that got him killed. Usually is."
Another drag. The short detective sighed.
"I think I'll get the paperwork over to Oswald later today. You know he's one of the first ones to to get the Wayne treatment? Accidentally let it slip at a wildlife fundraiser. Started talking about the new batsuit he saw Bruce wearing a few nights before. Got his transfer to fraud out of it on account of the medical leave."
"Huh. I didn't know that."
| 2018-03-13T22:35:18 | 2018-03-13T22:34:48 | 548 | 56 |
[WP] FTL travel is actually possible. However, when humanity sends out our first FTL spacecraft, we discover the terrifying reason why nothing, not even light, dares go past that cosmic speed limit. | (Another take on the prompt)
Flashing lights. I was seeing flashing gods damned lights. Is that even possible? I glanced at my instruments and confirmed that yes, we were traveling at well over three times the speed of light. It should not be possible to see lights.
Still, this was anomalous enough to pause the experiment. I reached forward and dialed back our acceleration and fired forward thrusters, gradually we came to a (relative) stop.
A bright yellow and red spacecraft pulled up parallel to our craft. We were being hailed. Is this first contact? Did we just stumble apon the first other sapient life in the universe? With solemnity I answered the hail, "This is Commander John Andrew from the ISC Mercury speaking. On the behalf of Humanity I extend a hand of-" I was interrupted.
A voice which sounded surprisingly like my own cut in with "Do you have any idea how fast you were going sir?" I sat, surprised. I re-engaged the comm system and responded, "We were testing our new drive and were travelling at roughly 3 times the speed of light."
The comm buzzed with activity, "I've run you through the system and see this is your species first speed infraction. Please be aware that in this Universe the speed limit is the speed of light. If you need a tow, we would be more than willing to return you to your home system. If not, please try to keep your speed under c."
________________________________________________
/r/SirLemoncakes | We didn't mean to doom humanity. Honest. We really didn't.
We were just testing our limits. A new ship, one that could finally exceed the speed of light. That barrier which had so long limited what we considered possible. We would soon travel to other star systems without having to use a generational ship. We would spread across the cosmos.
We would take it back now if it were possible. Something lives there, in the back corners of spacetime. It sleeps. Or rather, slept. But we woke it up. Like the inexorable grinding of flour in the mill, we're now being ground to dust.
We are sending out this warning, along with everything we ever accomplished. Our music, poetry, history both good and bad, our lives. We broadcast this message to you in every language we have, both linguistic and mathematical. Learn from our mistakes, and please...keep some of our culture alive. If only in memory.
________________________________________________
/r/SirLemoncakes | 2018-11-04T05:58:54 | 2018-11-04T05:10:00 | 1,132 | 157 |
[WP] The bride is having an affair with the best man. During his wedding speech the best man decides to see how heavily he can hint about it without anyone actually working it out. | John sipped his drink as he stood up. He shuffled the notes in his hands before glancing across the table. Despite the white, perfect smile on her lips, Jenna watched him with terrified eyes. John had felt those eyes on him all day. Every time he refilled his glass, her smile became more forced. Her gaze became more cold.
"We, uh," John started, clearing his throat. "I remember the day I met Michael." He turned to his left and nodded at the groom.
Michael's smile was as bright and handsome as that of his new wife. Behind him, Jenna gripped the tablecloth until her knuckles were as white as her perfect, fake smile.
John shrugged, snatched his glass off the table, and downed it one sip. The audience chuckled as John dropped his cards face down on the table.
"I've known Jenna since we were little kids," he said, holding onto the back of his chair for support. "We've been inseparable ever since we were in diapers. All the way through childhood, high school, college... it was always 'John and Jenna.' I've always thought of her as a part of my family. Ron, Samantha," he said, looking at the parents of the bride. "It's been a long time since I lost my parents. Even with them gone, I've always thought of you two as the mother and father I never had. I'll never be able to thank you enough for welcoming me into your family."
The audience applauded. Samantha had begun to tear up.
"Now, since Jenna and I have always been so close," John continued. "I'm sure a couple of you were expecting me to be the one walking her down the aisle." A few people laughed uncomfortably at that observation.
"But I can assure you," John said. "I think the odds are better that I'd be walking Michael down the aisle. Because, after all," he said over the laughter of the crowd, "Jenna has never been the type of girl who wanted a relationship. As early as the third grade, I remember her promising me she'd never get married. From the day Jenna met Michael, everything about her changed. She saw the world in a whole other way. Hell," he said, making eye contact with the bride, "she even started seeing me a different way."
Jenna could not even fake a smile anymore.
John flashed a wide grin at Michael. "I gotta be honest with you," he said. "I didn't think you two were going to make it. The thing about Jenna is, she always wants what she can't have. I'll admit, I was a little nervous when you started influencing my friend's life in such a dramatic way. But hey," he said with a shrug. "I've never seen her happier."
John lifted his empty glass. "So here's to you, Michael. Words can't express how glad I am that you met Jenna."
| It isn't jealousy that makes the words turn sour in my mouth. I have prepared trope about how I met my best friend in college and how I'd walk past him every night draped over the toilet seat. How it all changed when he met Maya. Maya, who really is unremarkable when you look at her. Slightly overweight. Her hair isn't shiny. She probably doesn't even use conditioner. She has brown eyes, brown skin and a confused heart.
I clear my throat and stand up, raising my sparkling apple cider high in the air. The sunlight streams into the room, mocking me and turning it golden. There is silence and anticipation, people ready to give me their best canned laughter. Maya watches me wearily. She's not scared, though, because she knows that I love her too much to betray her.
"Imagine this." I say. Imagine being a twenty year old kid in college and not really knowing much about life. Imagine being stupid, dumb and immature. Well, that's what this guy (now pointing at the groom) was. But Maya walked into his life luckily.
What can I say about Maya? She's the sort of person who makes you re-evaluate what it means to be a good person. The sort of person who knows the songs you like and makes you a cup of something steaming when you need it because you've had a terrible day.
I watched my best friend change slowly before my eyes as he grew older with Maya. I saw him learn what it meant to love someone truly. He stopped chasing beautiful girls with curves that smelled like perfume. Instead, he started hanging around the cafe where Maya liked to drink pumpkin spice lattes and eat brownies. Maya was never about restricting herself. She was and is about enjoyment, about eating whatever she wanted and in whatever quantity she wanted. Watching her eat anything chocolate is an experience in itself.
And my best friend, sitting right next to Maya? He became that way too. What was the point in restricting calories, and more importantly, experiences in life? Who knows if you truly live more than once? And so, their relationship became one defined not by societal mores or rules, but just from the fact that they enjoyed life together more than they did separately.
I put my glass down. My arm is starting to hurt, and my face is starting to hurt from trying to look happy.
"Best wishes on your new life, Maya." I mumble and look down. I may have fooled everyone else, but there's no fooling me.
| 2015-04-02T22:15:17 | 2015-04-02T22:10:37 | 1,568 | 14 |
[WP] After hearing complaints countless times the hero just turns himself in and goes to prison. Now that the villains are destroying the city and running wild everyone is trying the convince the hero to come out and save the day. But the hero is not having any of this shit | "2610." I repeated the number slowly and with emphasis. "Two Thousand six hundred and ten."
"I keep a tally. I always keep a tally. That my stock and trade. Well it would have been if not for -"
I raise the green goop my arm had become.
"Y'know I used to believe in all this. Freedom! Righteousness! The Goodness in man!"
I shook my head.
"But you robbed me of that day by day a little crime at a time. A little greed here, a little bad there. I warned you! Over and over and over! Look at slums! Superpowers don't care about rich or poor. You want to stop villains then you have to take away their reason to BE villains. They aren't born. They are made."
"But -"
"Save your breath senator. I forgot you prefer Doctor that's the title you claim isn't it. During all your speeches, all your rallies. Since you have forgotten let me remind you of the fundamentals. You don't treat the symptoms, you find the cause."
I shrugged.
"But that's hard isn't it? Easier to blame someone else, blame the villains that you made every day you slapped away their hands, sneered at their misfortune. You made this rope senator, braided day by day, it grew long under your watch. You built the gallows you manufactured the lever and now that the rope is around your neck the lever set you plead to save yourself from the hanging you set for yourself."
"What about the victims!"
"Don't hide behind the innocents now! You're their leader? Lead them! Oh wait that's right you only want power when it's convenient, ignoring it's price! People will die and if you want someone to blame look in the mirror."
"Oh, 2770 now. Lives you failed, lives that ended because of you. Good day Senator" | \[POEM\] The Hardest Part
The Hero saved the day
The way they do
Power by their side
An escape out of view
​
The cops got it rough
Cleaning up the mess
What good is a gun
To citizens and their mundane distress
​
The Police Chief to the Mayor
The Mayor to the town
"Back off and let us work
Who let the hero wear the crown?"
​
The people turned their advances
Oh the misinformed masses
The hero wins against the villain
But rarely against the civilian
​
Our hero turns himself in
The celebrations make the lights dim
The villain, ever so crafty and clear
Made his intentions loud and severe
​
Our hero rests,
Deaf to the pleas and requests
They rest, something they had earned
Unlike the tides, which had turned
​
The people panic
The Mayor rallies the manic
The Police use their dusty guns
Just to find they ran out of funds.
​
The city is bent, The city relents
With no one to blame
The hardest part of living
Is with all the shame | 2021-03-18T13:37:30 | 2021-03-18T10:44:53 | 126 | 59 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "I don't know if she's all that daft. I think she may be a witch."
"Who? Mad Mary of the Idiot Wood!? A witch? I doubt that very much."
"She could be playing dumb to throw us off, so we don't suspect."
"We are talking about the daft old lady who'll give you vegetables if you dump your chamber pot in that thing behind her house. That one, right?"
"She does have the best vegetables in the county. Could be she needs it for her gardening spells."
"The same lady who gave a shilling for a every dead rat you could bring her then burned all the rats?"
"We were the only village that didn't get the plague. Sounds like a sacrifice to me. And, I'm pretty sure she cursed the barber."
"Cursed the barber?"
"Yeah, my mum says that years ago Mad Mary and he got in an argument 'cause her kid's humours were all out of
balance and he wanted to bleed the tyke. The kid died. Ever since then, he loses more patients than he saves."
"Well, you've convinced me. I guess we've got to burn her, then?"
"I don't see anything else we can do. Can't have a witch in the village."
edit: formatting. | "Dear, don't listen to her!"
I stood square and looked mom in the eye. "I will. She explained more of it and it all hangs together. She said we could *die*. I think we should at least… check it."
Mom took a deep breath and came around the table. "I had hoped she'd be able to hold her tongue around the kids. What a thing to obsess about! Lousy woman, not letting us handle things in our own time. Honey!"
Dad appeared momentarily. "Mmmm?"
Mom looked to me. "Would you repeat that for father?"
So I did, hesitantly.
Dad and Mom stared to each other for a moment. Then, Dad began the terrible secret of death: "Her concerns *were* real, and her solutions *were* good, once, long ago, well before we spread from our first planet…" | 2017-09-14T12:11:29 | 2017-09-14T07:28:47 | 240 | 16 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE WALRUS". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful walrus. Look." | My phone rattled on my nightstand, and I ignored it.
Twenty minutes later, it shook again. The quiet buzz would usually go unnoticed during the day, but the same volume amplified twofold in the middle of the night.
The phone’s shake persisted. I felt myself pried away from a deep slumber.
I grabbed my phone and pressed swiped upwards. Three things caught my attention in a matter of seconds, the first being the time — 3:15 AM. I groaned knowing that I my alarm would go off in a couple of hours.
The second thing I noticed was one of those emergency text issued by the state. They usually display an amber alert or severe weather advisory. But this message differed from the others. This message said, “LEVI, DON’T LOOK AT THE WALRUS…” I laid in my bed dumbfounded. My area is pretty safe, the weather didn’t indicate any storms on the horizon. But most curious, I had disabled those types of notifications months ago.
I tapped on the message to see if anything proceeded by the ellipsis. Nothing, just the same advice to not gaze upon some blubbery pinniped.
The last thing I noticed was the amount of unread text messages I received. Nearly half of my contacts delivered the same message as the emergency notification, except their message had a hyperlink embedded into the text.
I initially thought that some virus was spreading across cellphones. Tapping the link would allow the hack to enter my phone, gather my personal information, then send the same message to my entire contact list. But each message did include my name. Could a hack identify the users phone and personalize their message? I have no clue.
I opened up Twitter to see if the virus was trending. It was; over 100k tweets contained the hashtag *WALRUSMODEL*. I read through a couple of post, but most tweets poked fun at the message without their users opening the link. There was one account— 16bitTurtles — who said they would tap the link and take a screenshot of whatever it displayed. They did not followed up on their tweet. Perhaps they fell back asleep.
I closed out the program and cleared the messages on my home screen. Then, more missed notifications appeared in the text messages/emergency warning part of my screen — a list of missed calls. Another chunk of my contact list called me at 3:00 AM and each left a voicemail.
I had a suspicion they echoed the same message, but that would go against my theory that the link was a hack. Unless the virus also acted like a robocall and some monotoned voice spoke on the other line.
The most recent message was from my mom. I had to know if it was truly her that reached out to me. I tapped on her name and held the phone to my ear.
I heard her voice whispering in a panic, as if an intruder were in her house. She demanded me to not look at the walrus *outside*.
She continued to say the same message over and over again until she exceeded the voicemail length and the call abruptly ended.
My blinds were shut. A flash of pale light flickered through its crevices. I pressed my finger on one of the slates, tempted to raise it and take a peak of my front lawn.
I removed my hand as if it touched a hot stove and walked into my closet. I shut the door and curled up in the corner. I was afraid of something I wasn’t sure of.
I called my several times mom she never answered. I couldn’t even leave a voicemail — a recording of her phone carrier said her inbox was full.
I opened my contacts list and noted who had yet tried to contact me over the night. I started to call them.
Of course they didn’t answer. It was only 3:34 AM. So I left a message, pleading each of them by name to not look at the possible walrus outside. | The room was dark and still. A dog barked somewhere in the distance, it’s rhythmic yelps slipping through the barely open window. A digital alarm clock sat on a bedside table - its face glowed softly as 2:59AM turned to 3:00AM.
A phone buzzed violently beside the clock.
“What the fuck is that?” groaned the previously sleeping man. He grabbed the phone, jerking it off its charger, and brought it to his face.
It was an official notification, not dissimilar to one sent for severe weather or an amber alert. But instead of the usual message about flash floods or missing children, this text simply read “DO NOT LOOK AT THE WALRUS.”
Before he could even begin to comprehend such a message, his phone buzzed once more. And then again. And then again. In fact, it did not stop buzzing for some time. The screen was flooded with notifications - messages from hundreds of unknown numbers. Each one contained a variation of the message “It's a beautiful walrus. Look.” with an image attached.
The man sighed. He turned off his phone and placed it back down on his bedside table.
“Not again.”
Just as he swung his legs off the bed and began to stretch his arms, there was a knock on his bedroom door.
“Yes?” he called.
“Andrew? Are you awake? It’s the uh...”
Before the other man could finish, Andrew interrupted him. “The walruses. I know. I’ll be out in a second.”
It had been several years since the Marine Mammal Uprising. Walruses, seals, otters, dugongs, and all other manner of aquatic beasts had executed a flawless coup of the human race. Humans had vastly underestimated their strength, speed, and ability to use firearms. They rose up right when humans were at their weakest and now had plans for a mass extinction.
Andrew threw on a shirt and ventured out to the kitchen where four others were seated around a wooden table.
“Another late night cyber attack?” he offered as he poured himself a cold cup of day-old coffee.
A woman hunched over a laptop replied “Yup - they were trying to catch us off guard. No doubt some sleepy idiots opened at least one of the texts. They’re goners by now. Hacked, tracked, and shot in the face by a very angry dolphin.” She typed furiously, assessing the damage. “Looks like our servers are safe though. For now.”
Andrew rubbed his temples. “It’s not going to take them much longer to find us. We need a new plan.”
“What are we supposed to do?” one member chimed. “They’ve got eyes and ears everywhere. And our human allies are dwindling. Soon we won’t even be getting the warning texts.”
“I think it’s time we go on the offensive,” Andrew exclaimed, setting his mug on the counter. “No more hiding in deserts or on mountains. We need to take the fight to them. Drive them out of every sea, lake, pond, and reservoir. We need to take back what’s rightfully ours. For our families. Our friends.” He paused and looked thoughtfully at the woman behind the laptop. “For the forgotten victims of the Manatee Massacre.”
She gripped the locket dangling around her neck and nodded. The others softly vocalized their support in the form of "amens" and "right ons." Thus, the revolution began. What started as a text about a walrus would end as the bloodiest human/marine mammal conflict in the history of mankind. | 2021-01-11T19:03:59 | 2021-01-11T17:28:37 | 1,394 | 216 |
[WP] Kill a man and you're a murderer. Kill thousands and you're a conqueror. Kill everyone and you're a god. | The silence since my ascension had grown deafening. I yearned for the clash of conflict once again. Nothing to do with all my power.
In my solitude I grew desperate in the darkness. At first I loved their admiration. Then their fear and obedience. I thought this would be all I'd ever need.
I would never know. Not everyone would bow. Some would rise against and others would stubbornly deny. "Kill everyone and you're a god." the old words said. I'd put them to the test.
Success only meant silence. No more prayers in the dark. So I'd made up my mind. In the beginning I'd create the heavens and the earth.
And I'd start all over again..
Edit: Punctuation | They said I was a god
I felt like a murderer
I was just a fraud
While they called me a conqueror
The power was not mine
But I used it anyway
If only I would have had time
Maybe I could have made them stay
The power was suppose to sustain us
Not turn the world into dust | 2015-04-17T10:01:26 | 2015-04-17T09:57:44 | 323 | 55 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | *Not again*
One second I was driving down I-95, the next I was in a dungeon inside a glowing satanic circle with lava flowing down the walls. If you are familiar with I-95, this is not a significant downgrade, in fact, depending on the day you might find yourself better off. But see, I was going back home, and being summoned was the last thing I wanted.
Anyways, I tested the glowing lines, I flicked the edge of my spectral prison with my finger and jumped back immediately...into the other wall.
Yeah. It was that kind of day.
I winced and got to my feet. This one was good. The competent ones could make their prisons be like walls, the incompetent ones had prisons made of cardboard, but to have the wall actually provide feedback...there could only be one summoner with such skill.
“H..hey, Lisa.”
Yep. It was that kind of day. I turned to find the furry little thing standing in front of the summoning circle, just past the bounds of the summoning circle. Their fur moved independently as if there was a wind blowing in a dozen directions, but of course we were in a dungeon. They reminded me of little, creepy teddy bears or the Ewoks from Star Wars.
“Jesus Christ, Soggoth, stop fucking summoning me!”
Soggoth cringed, his fur recoiling away from me as if repelled by a magnet. “L...look, I have to keep a reputation alright! Can you imagine if the rest of the people found-”
“Maybe I should just tell everyone else, that the Prime Host-”
“Err...it’s Supreme Host, actually”
“Whatever! Leader, president, dictator, whatever the fuck, is interested in-”
“SHHH!” Soggoth said immediately and the walls of my prison pressed against me for a moment before Soggoth realized what he was doing.
“S...sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” he said miserably.
I just glared daggers at him, echoes of the pain still dancing across my skin. “I’ll charge you double now.”
Soggoth sighed. “Yeah...I figured.” He conjured two bars of solid gold out of the air. “Really, I don’t get why these rocks are so meaningful in hell,” he said, shaking his head.
“Alright, what is it you want to know today?”
See, humans were summoned for their knowledge, or well, google’s knowledge. The summoner's would ask how to make bombs, learn ancient battle strategies, make inventions. We made sure to never give them too much, lest they no longer need us. But some summoners had entirely other interests. Like Soggoth here, the leader of the entire damn dimension.
“Okay, so what happened in Game of Thrones this time?” he asked, handing me the gold through the circle.
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed check out my sub [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| The room's runes glowed with such warding powers that the candles only served the purpose of spell ingredients. I paused the game, I was already at a pay point anyway having died multiple times because I needed the sword of Amecles to kill Hexigron and $3.99 was not in today's budget.
I made a step backwards in shock only to be thrown forward, a second bump on my forehead threw me back. I noticed the chaos symbol on the ceiling, it was surrounded by two vipers swallowing each others tails to make a circle.
The sound of louboutin's coming down announced her arrival, her skin almost radiated with her beauty. Enticing beauty, an attractiveness that seduced and corrupted all that stared at it for too long, the kind that would tempt a man to eat an apple he'd specifically been told not to by someone who could create galaxies.
"Victoorrrr...." she purred out. A finger ran across my shoulders, then down my spine.
"What do you want Lucy?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Not yet anyway, today I want to give you something."
"I'm not interested in what you're selling."
"Oh I'm sure you are, and would you turn around who gets summoned facing the wrong way?"
I spun to face an altar in front of it was a silver throne cast in the image of men kneeling. Lucy sat on the back of one, the armrests being the arms of two men standing.
"You're sure you wouldn't be interested in anything I have to offer?"
"I'm sure."
"Not even this?" she lifted up a small test tube, it glowed bright blue, the faces on her throne shifted their gaze as she waved it in the air. Even they knew what she held.
My mouth hung open. I could feel the essence calling me, pleading it needed to be back home. She flung it to the floor and as it shattered it made it's way to me. My lungs filled with life, cloudy eyesight cleared and my heart raced faster as she waved her hands and I found my self back in my apartment. The doorway to heaven started to form. At last my ascendance.
As I soaked it all in my back stiffened. She gave me something she knew I couldn't pay for. She was trying to get more than a favor from me. She was trying to earn loyalty. She would have to come calling some day. What scared Lucifer so badly she needed to make allies?
***
You can read more of my stories at /r/pagefighter.
| 2017-05-12T07:53:08 | 2017-05-12T07:44:27 | 6,106 | 81 |
[WP] Occasionally, as a joke, you touch a random brick, hoping it opens a secret entrance, or speculate that the musician crossing the street has a tommy gun in his guitar case. Anything to distract you from your boring life. Today, you blurted out "Inventory!" and a video game menu appeared. | As a kid, and even now, I’d try to make life seem like a video game. I love video games, always have and always will.
In a video game world, there are no rules, no boundaries, and always a goal. In this world, it’s school, work, and die. Who wouldn’t choose the video game life over this one?
So with every walk in the mall, every stroll in the park, and those late-night jogs I take to distract myself, I’d do things that make me feel like I’m in a game. From touching bricks with the hope it would open a secret passage, to speculating street musicians with the hope that they’d have a tommy gun in their guitar case. Just something. *Something* that would make this life more interesting and fun.
I spun around in my chair, the pile of homework on my desk staring and taunting me. Boring. Boring. Boring.
Give me something. Anything. Something new. In an attempt to try out another thing that you would usually find in a video game, I blurted out “Inventory!” and shot out of my chair as a large screen winked in front of me, a green hue surrounding it.
The screen floated lazily in place, and I shakily got to my feet and inspected it from all sides, wondering if it was being projected from something. There were no windows in my room, so the possibility of someone projecting it in my room was impossible.
My hand phased through it when I tried to touch it, leaving it unfazed as it showed my supposed ‘inventory.’ Thousands of items with mystical and odd names were listed. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I uttered the name of one of those items.
“Feather of a Crown,” as if someone send an electrical current in my hand, I held out my hand flat and there appeared a quill dazzled with gems of all kinds. It was heavy for a feather, but at the end of it was black ink that seemed to absorb all light.
I summoned various items and have gotten the hang of how some of it worked. After I had dressed myself in some shiny armour and wielded a strong sword, I left my house and summoned the tasks tab by saying the word ‘tasks’.
With a sort of vibrating feeling, a wide grin spread on my face as I read the first task: ‘Destroy Earth.’
I brushed the task tab away and leapt out of the nearest window. “Ready. Set. Game!” | 'Another Brick in the Wall'
What is it that people seek? Be it fame, money, power; those did not appeal to me, i have yet to find that 'thing' that will make my life fulfilled. I spend my days in melancholy, what is the purpose of my life?
Looking along the vast plainscape that is this city, ever-gray and full of fumigation, i dream of a serendipitous encounter, sometime that will annul my desolate reality, lest i never realize that dream is my greatest fear.
I like music and movies, that is something I like to spend my time with, I indulge in little escapades to let my mind adrift, to envision possibilities of infinite realities that could happen at any moment, obviously I am constantly reminded this is all a fabrication of fiction, but anything could happen.
I look at it like this, what if my perception were correct? what if I touched this brick right here, could I be transported to another world? or lets say that shaggy-haired guitarist over there had a tommy gun in his guitar-case, what if he were to suddenly unload pellets of destruction, ensuing chaos where bodies burst open like water-melon? I might be the one who would be able to stop him, nonetheless these are possibilities and I am just making sure I anticipate them, the world operates in bewildering paces, only the ignorant would say otherwise.
Now I say this as I crossed paths with the afore-mentioned guitarist, my stomach steels in suspense, my knuckles whiten; knees weak, arms heavy. I almost vomit on my sweater, but the travesty is over in seconds, there was no tommy gun after all. I sigh in relief and continue onwards on my perilous journey towards the supermarket.
Just then, something funny occurred to me, a mix between a brain fart and the attempted recollection of an obscure lyric, I blurted out 'Inventory'. Now I shit you not, a video-game like menu popped up, I fell backwards on my ass.
My heart thundering, i started doing the floss in ecstastic excitement.
Yes the dance. | 2020-10-26T18:35:08 | 2020-10-26T17:40:14 | 138 | 44 |
[WP] Reincarnation is a known, common, and expected result of death. You are a bounty hunter that specializes in tracking down people who have committed suicide to escape debts or a jail sentence. | I never understood sentimentality. How could an object mean so much to someone? But as I turned Roan's zippo--a gift from his late father--over in my hands, I didn't need to know why it meant something to him, just that it did.
The sky was Roan's favorite shade of blue as he put out his morning cigarette and checked in with his contacts for any new marks. It was not the bright blue of a cloudless day, but the steel blue of storm clouds heading his way. He inhaled deeply the scent of coming rain and his call connected just as thunder rumbled onto his porch.
"Hey, Derek. You got anything for me?"
"Yeah, a couple, actually. I'll text you the details and you can take your pick. We got a new guy to cover for Blake, and he can take the leftovers."
He inhaled sharply at the mention of his old buddy, who'd killed himself after a recovery operation gone wrong. Roan didn't know all the details, but he knew a bystander had been killed, and so had the nine year old target, a boy named Daniel. I, however, am a bit more nosy. I know that the nine year old target was a reincarnated serial killer, and the bystander his mother. Blake had gone a bit off the rails, firing his semi-automatic a few times too many. The child and his mother were buried in unmarked graves, as was the custom for reincarnated criminals. Nobody but a select few knew that the mother, a woman named Christine, had also been left of the law in her last life: a con artist who'd stolen the money of grieving people, people who had nothing to live for but enough money to make them worth her while.
Roan went to the bounty hunter's funeral, but the only thing he remembered through the haze of sadness was that they hadn't buried him with his cross necklace that he'd worn every day since Roan had known him, and that made things even worse. "Thanks," he choked out finally.
"Yeah. Just be careful with this one. Both of these guys were pretty nasty last time around, and it's been over twenty years for them."
That cleared his head, and I wondered if he'd catch on. "Jesus, I thought we set it up to alert us before they turn ten!"
"Yeah, well, the system's ten years old, and we designed it to alert us to possible targets before they turned ten."
"Wait, so... the ones who were ten or older by the time we set it up--"
"They slipped through the cracks, and now they're at least twenty. But we're fixing that up now."
"I'll tell you what," Roan said after a moment of contemplation. "Anybody else you find that's an adult by now, I'll take them myself if this job goes well."
Derek sighed, and I rolled my eyes as well. "Always trying to make a name for yourself, huh?"
"Just text me the information," Roan insisted, then hung up. He couldn't stand Derek outside of a sports bar.
Thunder rumbled again, and he pulled another cigarette from his pack and lit it, much to my disgust. I reminded him that it was a nasty habit, but he brushed it off. His phone chimed with a new text, and we both paid attention.
The first one had been a man in his late forties, accused of vehicular manslaughter and mass murder. Fortunately, he'd only been able to kill his own family before the police tracked him down. Unfortunately, he'd killed himself with a kitchen knife before they'd managed to capture him.
The second one was a woman in her thirties who'd stolen billions of dollars' worth of art, jewelry, and other things rich people collected to show off. Roan had never understood the urge to display your wealth to others for exactly this reason: it was sure to get you robbed. The woman had killed herself old school, with a cyanide capsule crushed between the molars. Probably to keep from having any telling birthmarks in the next life.
Roan's thoughts sped ahead of mine. The murderer would be easily identified by the slit-wrist birthmarks on his arms, he mused, and damn near guaranteed to have killed again. The woman, though, that was tougher. No scars, and art theft and other such nonsense was harder to pin down to a single individual.
Disappointed, I sighed and leaned back, closing my eyes. I'd had my fingers crossed for a certain target, but either they hadn't tracked him down yet, or Roan wasn't the one being sent after him. That wouldn't be a problem, though. Not for me.
"I'll take the girl," he texted Derek. "I love a challenge."
"And you love to give the new guys the murderers" came the response. Roan rolled his eyes and didn't reply to the text, just hopped into his car to start the drive to city hall. On a Sunday morning, there wasn't likely to be any traffic, and he expected to get there in record time. | I’m a bounty hunter. I’ve been around for about five hundred years to do my job, and sometimes I have to kill myself to acquire a stronger body when the one I’m given isn’t strong enough. You see, ‘round these parts, we don’t have a childhood anymore. Law done got rid of that years. Before I go on, let me ‘pologize for my choppy accent. I was Southern for ‘bout fifty years last time, and I haven't quite shaken the accent yet. I’m almost glad that guy killed me. ‘S too bad I gotta find him again now.
Some crazy scientists figured out how to reincarnate people years ago, testing bodies and what-not; some’n to do with chemicals in the body. I don’t know that stuff, I’m only slightly above average intelligence- things like yer personality stay the same, unless there’s a defect in your reincarnation. ‘Spose you could get it back when you change again. Anyway, these scientists figured it out ‘n started playing with it, wanted to learn more, and people were offering themselves like crazy for research. There was a huge issue with morality, you can imagine. Eventually, they found a way to make it so they come back as an adult- ‘gain, I don’t know how it all works. Just know they didn’t find out what they did ‘till ‘bout a hundred years later ‘cuz the people would reincarnate so far away or not think to tell ‘em, and by then the politics and morals on it all died down and people became all fine with it. Soon enough, everyone done had it done, now the only problem is suicidal people are complaining that they can’t leave, and people get killed for fucking, what with nobody staying dead to keep the population stable.
Now, there are a few problems beyond environment and emotions to deal with. We call ‘em the three E’s, and the third is economy. That’s where I come in. Some sons’ a bitches don’t wanna pay for what they did, and so they kill themselves to get out of sticky situations. Now, the people in charge don’t like that, so they hire people like me to stick around and go off finding these assholes. I’d leave the job if I had any other income to keep to one body and one home. I don’t even have any family anymore, they done reincarnated before the adult thing came along and went and grew up in new families, forgot all ‘bout me. I make some friends ‘long the way, but they all wanna go do stuff with their never ending life and half of ‘em done became anarchists. Don’t gotta work so much when ya don’t have to worry ‘bout dying, but some people still do it because they don’t like the feeling of things like starvation and dying regardless. Hear them scientists trying to do something ‘bout that to, but gov’ments don’t want ‘em changing so much that the people don’t need higher-ups anymore.
So now I’ve gotta find this one guy. I’ve been searching for this fucker for about a hundred years. That’s a long time, considering most of us go and die within twenty years, either to resist becoming old, or because of all of the crazy shit going on now. Don’t wanna go getting involved in it. This guy has been fucking with everyone, he’s wanted everywhere. Can’t kill him ‘cause he just comes back and does it again. Some other guys done jailed him twice, but he found a way to kill himself both times and got away. Gov’ment don’t care because he’s not doing anything that disturbs them anymore- the gov’ment changed a lot so they can benefit from this new world. They don’t care much ‘bout moral laws anymore, more about housing and luxuries now. Not really a gov’ment at all, I’d say. Guess everything’s changed though.
I’m out right now searching for this guy, in Australia. It’s a lot closer to what was Antarctica now, with all those plates or whatever they call it moving. They done made Antarctica a country, the Antarctic Kingdom, ‘cause science done solved the cold too. Anyway, rookie, you done been frozen solid for a long time for that experiment, guess they forgot about all of ‘ya, so you’re gonna have to stick with me for about a hundred years or so. At least until you learn how to live in this new world and how to ‘survive.’ Don’t mean dying, more just living nicely. Say, you look an awful lot similar to all the other reincarnations of that guy we been chasin’... | 2017-07-09T13:48:50 | 2017-07-09T10:45:08 | 77 | 20 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | Upon reflection, the decision to save the galaxy might have been a mistake. The Eholim evolved on a gas planet whose composition allowed for liquid water to rain into the depths. Gossamer wings and antennae and organs of helium sacks allowed their bodies to survive forever in flight. Their home-world was so large that their population was staggering in comparison to species who evolved on Terrestrial worlds.
The Banadii, a race whose individuals looked like a large wishbone and evolved on a planet not quite unlike Earth, uplifted the Eholim into The Galactic Society with the presentation of dirigibles that housed education computers and manufacturing facilities suited for the gas giant, but would naturally never have been able to be made from scratch on the planet. The Banadii claimed it was the poetry and music of the Eholim that gave them the right to be uplifted.
However, it turns out the only reason why the Eholim was so peaceful and poetic was because they really didn't have the means for physical conflict in the form that they evolved into, and what the Banadii perceived as beautiful compositions of sound and light, were actually poisonous vitriol of one Eholim insulting another about one thing or another. For example, the Cantabile of the Gates of Heavens, so named by the Banadii, was composed by an Eholim about his neighbor always blocking the sun, getting in the way during feeding, and generally being unacceptably unhygienic. The first mistake was not realizing that the Eholim was a race of mean spirit, selfish intention, and possessed a disregard for everything but their immediate interest.
The population pressures of the Eholim's homeworld was so intense that once they had the ability to leave their planet, they instantly started colonizing other worlds, and terraforming gas giants throughout the Galaxy to meet their needs. They drastically changed the mass and compositions of those planets and by doing so, disrupted the orbits of the terrestrial planets of most of the home-worlds Galactic Society was based on. Something had to be done. But what? No other race had nearly the numbers the Eholim had, well, accept one. Humanity.
Up until now, the only contact The Galactic Society had with Humanity was to occasionally pick up one that deviated from major population centers, abduct them for study and deposit them back into whatever cornfield or forest they were found in. But with the whole galaxy in disarray because the Eholim, the decision was made to uplift Humanity as well, and turn their energy towards defeating the Eholim in a war of extermination. It was not a repeat of the previous error as such, but an attempt to set the two uplifted races against each other so the rest of The Galactic Society can get back to their parties, and return to the usual business of proper socialization. Humanty was given FTL technology along with the information that the Eholim had colonized Jupiter. This was enough to get the ball rolling.
The second mistake was not realizing that Humanity actually liked war. They like it a great deal. More than anything. Humanity breeds and fights. The Eholim breeds and fights. The two have been at it for centuries now. Galactic Society is but a pale reflection of what it once was. There can be no parties where there is orbital bombardment. There cannot be proper socialization when fleets of barbarians are in your Heliosphere. The Galaxy will never be the same. | As *THEY* came we all stopped what we were doing. We left our homes, our workplaces, religious temples and stared. We stared in disbelief.
How long did it take? Mere weeks. It was a strange preposition.
Councilman Avurr stood on the podium and spoke to us:
"Fellow Dalurians. We have to make a difficult choice. Death is upon us, and we cannot stop it."
The council murmured, no one knew what we should do. What we could do.
We never knew war. We have been living as a single entity all our life, and this strange race which we call "Devourers" had come to destroy us - They never gave a reason.
But the Councilman didn't stop there.
"But there is a race that can. The humans of earth have shown brutality that rivals that of the Devourers, and I have sent a request to them to aid us. They will receive our FTL technology, but we will survive."
An uproar. The FTL technology passed on to a race so bloodthirsty? I have studied them for decades now. The Devourers, yes, they come and destroy without mind or reason - but *humans*?
They are calculated. They are brutal. They are ... special.
The humans are not like us. They are divided into many tribal regions that prey on each other for the most miniature gains.
Our brightest scientists do not understand the differences between those human tribes. What makes the "American" tribe so different from the "French" tribe, the "Mexican" tribe. Or any of the hundreds and hundreds of tribes.
Only a human can discern the different tribes from one another, and if asked would give reasons that none of us could understand; "He has a darker skin colour", "He greets people differently", "They wear different clothes", "Whorship another god - or none at all!".
And yet, here they are. Destroying the ships of the invading Devourers with such precision and destructive force. Thousands of human ships swarming our home planet. Like the "Ant" creature that are native to the Earth. A hive mind bend on killing with cold calculation.
They sent us this letter as an answer:
"We the United Nations Alliance will send 400 Destroyers, 700 Falcon-Class Ships, 30 Carriers and 2000 Interceptors. Our risk-assessment suggests a minimal loss of life, and more importantly a insignificant economical cost for this war effort.
We look forward to the payment and future business.
Signed, Tonald Drump, CEO and Head of the UNA of Planet Earth"
I hope it will not come to haunt us, inviting the monster to our doorstep. Trusting, that *they* will not turn on us once the Devourers are defeated, for what are we if not a planet ripe for sacking and exploitation in their eyes? | 2016-05-13T07:41:46 | 2016-05-13T06:49:00 | 19 | 14 |
[WP]"A superhero fights crime as a part of a team, apparently with the ability to hit his target perfectly with whatever weapon he shoots or throws on the first try. In reality, he has terrible aim, and his actual power is to stop time. He goes through extraordinary efforts to maintain his secret." | "Jesse! Deflect his shots!"
Fuck, I'm out of ammo! Ahh, what to do, what to do? The Destroyer's about to shoot some civilians! Aw crap…
*FREEZE!!*
Oh dear. That's one hell of an order, Jack. You know bullets move faster than sound. I've never shot speeding bullets with my own speeding bullets before, damn it. That's usually the ninja's job!
But I've got to do it, or else people will die. I mean, I could just move them out of the way, but I can't risk the government, even though they're funding us, deciding to experiment on me to find out how I can freeze time. In fact, I don't even know how. Time just… freezes when I want it to.
Well, shit. At least I can go to the ammo shop to buy some bullets right now.
(NO TIME LATER)
Alright.
*UNFREEZE!!*
I holster my reloaded revolver.
"Hey Destroyer, look at the sun. It's a beautiful day. You don't wanna shoot these innocent people! If you do, you'll never see the light of day again!"
The Destroyer looks at the sky.
My team of superheroes immediately jumps between the Destroyer and the citizens, urging them to find cover.
"Ugh, you're all going to die!"
The Destroyer fires his shotgun at my team. My friends.
*FREEZE!!*
I freeze a millisecond too late. The pellets are already spreading - eight pellets to be exact - and I only have six bullets. This is gonna be hard to explain…
Carefully, I rearrange the spreading pellets with my fingers. To my teammates it's gonna look like the shot magically moves out of the way. Well I guess this power is kind of magical, too.
Now for the finishing touch. I turn one of the pellets 180 degrees from its initial direction.
*UNFREEZE!!*
Wait, no.
*FREEZE!!*
I fire all six of my bullets in the general direction towards where the pellets would have been.
*UNFREEZE!!*
~~~~~~~~~~~
I close my eyes and cover my head instinctively, even though I fully trust Jesse's aim and reflexes.
After a series of *bangs* and *clangs*, I open my eyes to see the Destroyer lying on the ground, his shotgun out of reach.
My team and the civilians are unscathed. I look to my right and see Jesse letting out a laugh. A laugh to relieve pressure, I guess. He's just deflected who knows how many shotgun pellets with just six bullets, and shot the Destroyer as well, but I suppose that's no more than stretching a muscle for him.
I go forward to arrest the Destroyer. His left arm is wounded by one of Jesse's bullets.
Wait, no. That's smaller than a bullet, and rounder too.
With me holding the Destroyer down, Lisa, the girl with magnetic powers, removes the projectile and applies bandage onto the wound. He's going to pay for his crimes, but not by bleeding out.
I examine the projectile. It looks like… a shotgun pellet?
"Jesse, did you do this?" I ask as I lift the pellet for Jesse to see.
"Yeah, why?"
"How on earth could the pellet turn 180 degrees right back towards him when you shot it from an angle?"
Jesse pauses for a split second.
"Physics, man. It's all calculated,"
He says while spinning his revolver. | "Where did they go!" I exclaimed.
"There they are! In the boat trying to get away. Looks like they picked up a hostage" Shouted Willey Woodchuck pointing at the docks. Sure enough there was the bank robbers and they had a young girl thrown over one of their shoulders. "Crackshot we'll never make it in time. You'll have to take them out"
Aww fuck me. "Okay Leave it to me!" I look around for something easy to throw and pick up a handful of rocks and throw them in in their general direction. Soon as they left my hand I stop time. I sort the rocks into five separate grouping and move back into position and start time again for a split second and freeze again and start to move the grouping forward a few feet. "Why didn't I just tell everybody I can stop time?" Move back to position and start time again for another split second and freeze again. "Twenty damn years I've been doing this, God knows how much time I've wasted with this charade" I moved the rocks a few more feet forward.
A little over a second later, or for Crackshot it was an hour and seven minutes the rocks were right about to hit all of the bank robbers right in their heads.
Okay lets finally get this bullshit over with I thought angrily. I pulled back my arm and proceeded to punch each of the bank robbers in the head with my armored fist multiple times then mashed the grouping of rocks into the spots I struck each bank robber. And on the way to get back into position I passed the robber with the little girl and stopped.
"No you don't get off so easily" I mumbled to myself and looked around and spotted a crowbar and smiled. "Yeah that should work." I picked it up whirled around and struck the kidnapper as hard as I could right in the family jewels, dropped the crowbar, got back into position, and started time again.
"WOW! Nice Shot!" hooted Captain Carnage
"No trouble at all" I grumbled
The bank robbers were all down. Four of them holding their heads and the last one holding his balls not even noticing the blood spouting from his ear, or the crying little girl kicking him in the ribs. A few hours later after the cops had finished taking our heroes statements and they were walking back to their headquarters in the meat packing district.
"Hey guys you want to do something tonight?" Willy Woodchuck asked
"Like what?" Replied Captain Carnage
"Well there's a dart competition down at O'Malley's and with Crackshot we can't lose!" Woodchuck said with excitement. "First place gets free beer for a year!"
I stifled a groan just in time. I really just want to take a hot shower, and go to bed. Seriously I can't stand this shit anymore. "Sure sounds like fun guys." I said faking excitement at the prospect of free beer. If it was free liquor I might have actually been excited. | 2017-04-12T08:36:54 | 2017-04-12T07:42:22 | 64 | 48 |
[WP] You are an incredibly powerful supervillain. Your nemesis is an ageing superhero that you string along out of pity. You do just enough villainy to get what you want but let your nemesis win every now and then. Things change when a truly evil supervillain enters the city and kills your rival. | "Oh my god"
...is really all i can say.
Who the hell even is this guy.
This is my turf.
Just for that i oughta feed him his own fingernails.
His invasion wasnt even the worst thing he did. This coward calling himself "the hunter" goes around to small time games (being the back and forth between heroes and villains, as villains we called them games) and he either locks the villain up, stops the hero, gives the police evidence, or just runs interference until the whole thing is over.
That in itself was infuriating, but harmless in the end, theres always another round. No villain ever stays in prison.
Probably should tell you about our... I guess my game now.
In our little town, the hero went by the name The Ranger. Real stereotypical cowboy guy from the silver age. The lines on his face were just about deep enough to qualify as grandpa material, of course he was.
Rick Redford lived inconspicuously on a 7 acre plot on the west side, married my damsel in distress back when i had to let her go for the job being "demeaning" about 30 years back. His kids had their own kids, i came over under the guise of their neighbor for dinner a few times
Rick never caught on to the game god bless his soul, never was a big picture kind of guy. His wife knew, the cops knew, the mayor knew, thank god the press didnt.
We kept each other both employed and entertained over the years, but ultimately he had a decade or two on me and age started winning out.
I ditched my armor for something that wouldnt bust his knuckles, set fewer traps with less fiddly bits, even turned down the frequency so it looked like he was finally winning after all those years.
Then this bastard comes in.
There are rules you probably know about, they're there for everyone's safety, dont touch the family, dont take all the bank's money, dont shoot the press, but most importantly, never, ever, under any circumstances, is it ever a good idea to kill someone.
What this bastard just did,
I still cant believe it.
That was dirty, even by street standards.
You just dont shoot a man in the back.
You dont put his sidekick in a coma to entice him to fight.
And most importantly,
You dont EVER steal a hero.
I never told anyone just how much damage a sentient pile of sand can do, that would make our little game unbelievable, they're about to find out though | (Poem?) To the tune of “Losing My Religion” my REM
Oh, Captain Clobber
(Sigh) there’s slobber
on the bottom of your lip.
I’m ‘bout to aim the laser.
Be careful of your hip.
Oh No, you’ve fallen over.
I’ve pushed too far.
 
That’s me in the Cowl.
That’s me with the spiked boots,
Trying to defeat you.
And trying to keep you from dying.
And I don’t think that you will make it.
Oh No, you’ve broke your hip,
because you slipped.
 
Once we were mortal rivals
Once we went toe to toe.
I used to think you’d never die
 
Every encounter.
Every epic battle
We’d trade bold proclamations.
And sometimes I would lose.
Our rivalry was bold, bold.
But now you’ve fallen over,
I’ve pushed too far.
 
I let you win.
I made you win,
‘Cuz you couldn’t on your own.
I pushed your hand, and planned,
And you stood proud and noble. Hopeful.
But what if all these fantasies come
crashing down.
Because I think, I’ve pushed too far.
 
Once we were mortal rivals
Once we went toe to toe.
I used to think you’d never die
 
But time has other plans.
Time has other plans.
 
What’s on the horizon?
Who’s landing her mech-suit
in the city center?
She’s murdered Captain Clobber.
Now i’ll calibrate my lasers.
This villain's gone too far,
Pushed me too far.
 
You’ve just made a mortal rival.
And now we’ll go toe to toe.
I think i’m going to make you die.
 
I fire off my lasers.
tasers, phasers
mega-quasars
To honor Captain Clobber, Captain Clobber
Captain Clobber, Clobber. | 2020-08-31T20:23:26 | 2020-08-31T10:11:40 | 27 | 19 |
[WP] You grew up with your uncle, seeing him bringing weird stuffs home, you'd always thought he was just a hoarder. Untill the day he died, you realized that your uncle was the collector and protector of the most powerfull artifacts in the universe and you are a part of his collection. | Uncle Mike had always been a strange one. Growing up, he was always in and out on his "trips". He'd leave for a while, stop by around the same time every month to drop off more of his garbage, hide in his study for a few days, and then he'd be off again. You didn't really care too much about it. You had always found ways to entertain yourself. Uncle Mike was filthy rich and if him not being around much meant you got a $5000 allowance each month, well, that was fine by you. Half of what was practically a mansion was yours for weeks at a time. Only rule was that you couldn't enter the right wing or the basement. That was Uncle Mike's. Again, it never really bothered you. A couple times you had gotten curious and peeked in to one of the "forbidden" rooms. What looked like piles of junk and garbage filled the room to the point in which you couldn't even fit in though the doorway.
*No wonder Mike didn't want anyone in here* you had thought *he lives like a fuckin slob.*
You never could bring yourself to look into the basement though. Something about it just, didn't feel right. You had shut the door then and and never bothered to go back in. That is, until today.
Uncle Mike passed away a few days ago. His funeral was held earlier today. It was a small gathering with mostly people you didn't recognize and a few people from the town coming to get a peek at the "weird rich old man who lived in the woods". Around the end of the funeral though, a woman approached you. She was middle aged and looked solemn at the passing of what you assumed was a good friend to her. She spoke with you a little about her relationship with your uncle, saying she was his pilot, Joan.
*Figures that Uncle Mike would have his own pilot. Probably has his own personal plane too.*
After some typical small talk and the usual "sorry for your loss," Joan handed you a letter.
"He told me to give this to you if something ever happened to him," she explained "it may not make sense now, but I hope you come to understand. Your uncle was an extraordinary man."
And that gets you to where you are now. It's evening. The moon should be rising soon. Almost fitting that its a full moon tonight. Mike always liked to come home for the full moon. He said he liked the way the countryside looked under it. You scoff, he would.
You're standing outside your uncle's mysterious study, holding his unopened letter in your hands. You open the door to his study and walk in. The walls are lines with maps and news clippings. Old books, pens, papers, and Pop-Tart wrappers coat the floor. You chuckle. Mike always did really love Pop-Tarts. Looking closer at the books and newspapers though, none of it made sense. Werewolves? Demons? Magic?? It was ridiculous! This is what Uncle Mike devoted his life to? This is what he kept in his secret study?? You sigh and drop down into the single rolling chair in the study and look down at the letter.
*This is stupid,* you thought to yourself as you tore open the letter.
"Kid, if you're reading this, then somethings gone wrong and I won't be around for a while. That, or I'm dead. The point is, there's some things you gotta know and things you gotta prepare for. First of all, obviously I'm not your real uncle. Adopted you when you were a baby. Bet you probably figured that one out by now though. The way I kept avoiding the 'who are my real parents' question, you probably guessed something was amiss. No, you're real parents weren't exactly natural. Nothing I've been doing is exactly natural. Everything I've collected, all my notes, its all real. And I need you to protect it with your life. You're, well, my guard dog of sorts. You've been given immense power, given you learn to control it. And you will, around the time you hit 20. For the longest time, every month, I've been having to keep you under control for a night or two. Good thing you never remember that. I've got some nasty cuts from your claws alone--"
Your face twists in annoyance. Who does he think he is? Crazy old man! You flip to another page in the letter. Its instructions. You skim over them, face contorting in frustration.
*What, am I supposed to lock myself up in the goddamn basement every full moon until I'm 20??* You throw the letter onto the desk and stomp towards the exit of the study.
*A WEREWOLF???A GODDAMN WEREWOLF???* You grab the door handle with a clawed hand. Were your nails always that long?
*CRAZY, SENILE, LOONY, BATSHI--* And with a loud crack, you rip the door off its hinges. It flies through the air and lands on the other side of the room. You stare at it for a moment, bewildered. You did that. You, just ripped a door out. You're strong. So strong. And holy shit, you're hungry.
You begin to laugh. It was all just so crazy. He's crazy. Your laugh gets deeper. Crazy! Your laugh is rough, guttural. It's not even a laugh anymore. It's a growl. You're crazy. You're wild. You're hungry. | Three days is all it took for me, just three damn days to have my whole world shattered. Why'd that bastard have to go and leave me behind? It's not like I can live out my life knowing what he's left behind for me.
And me? What the hell does this goddamn letter mean? You stupid, selfish, cold bastard, I still need you to help guide me! I still need help, I still do...
I guess it's no wonder why I was never permitted to leave the mansion without you Uncle. To think, living my whole life as a possession and not even knowing it, now given all the freedom to do what I want. And I have to keep watch over this stupid mansion? Is this what you fucking had planned for me the whole time? When you die, just leave the vault for me to discover in your stupid letter? Revealing that I'm not an actual human anymore in a letter is beyond fucked. Jesus, I wish he let me die when I was born!
Fuck it though, I inherited this burden of a place so I might as well figure out what this shit is.
Looking down the first list, there's fifty class D1 items? I don't even know the damn classifications of these things, how the hell am I to...oh the classification scale is on the next page. It says here that there are four classification scales: A-D scale, object hazard scale, null-point scale, object erasure scale. What is the point of a four class scale when there are sub-classifications inside them? Hnk! Whatever, I'll learn things as I go down.
It says here, "Note, classification scales A-D have four sub-classifications as determined by the impact on single biological lifeforms." Well that's good to know. It seems D is the least deadly to biological life. No wonder there's so many D1 items, as they're more common than all the rest. And it seems that A scale classifications are always deadly to single biological lifeforms, that's also good to know.
Hmmm, object hazard scale seems to be a bit more worrisome. It says in some bold ass friggin letters, "Extreme caution required. Object hazard scale classification deemed deadly to large scale biological and non-biological lifeforms." Non-biological lifeforms? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Well there's only ten items on this list, so it should be easy to make sure they're secured.
I'm getting kind of worried now, I'm not on the first two lists. So what the hell does that mean for me? I can see that there's also ten items on the null-point scale, with a note for each item. That's definitely different! First item note says, "A space time partitioning-ionized oscillator. Do not touch without proper grounding of the current spacetime within 30,000 kilometers". I'm not even sure what that means, but I'll keep my fingers away from that one. So let's see, the second item says, "F901-10-p" and now I'm really fucking confused. Oh! An addendum was added on the page behind it, "Formula and means of production for between-matter". Jesus, I'm getting the picture that these items could cause some serious damage to a lot of shit.
It's almost too scary to read the object erasure scale. And I fucking knew it! My name is the second one down on the list! There's only three, which makes me really uncomfortable. Dammit Uncle Dex, I wish I knew this before hand. I have so many knots in my stomach it hurts. Deep breaths in Tidus, deep breaths in.
Oh man here I go, reading my own fucking classification. I'm going to do it...Any second now. I swear I'll do it--WHO AM I TALKING TO?!?!? Just stop being a pussy and read it. "Erasure precedence: Tidus Yni'ol. Age when precedence first came into contact with originators body: one day old. Precedence over reality: Matter condensing and compacting..." Wait, I can create condensed matter? Holy living shit that sounds cool! But I gotta make sure what that means...let me see if I can find any--AH, found it. "Precedence condition: Matter condensing and compacting forms spacial anomalies; classified under V9-1-v. Spacial anomalies open, and out pours unknown entities under control of precedence; entity classified under G304-0-f. Precedence scale annihilation..." Oh my god he has so many classifications for these things! I don't even understand half of it. Ugh! Never the less, it sounds scary and I don't want to even know how to activate it.
There's so much to fucking do. I don't want to even do this! Fuck you Uncle Dex, why'd you leave me alone with this shit!?!
​
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I tried something completely new to my writing. I've never really tried a monologue of sorts. I hope it was at least passable. | 2018-09-30T03:21:21 | 2018-09-30T01:25:44 | 37 | 21 |
[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." | Andrew nearly snarled as his phone chimed for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. His shift at the warehouse ended only a few hours ago and it like chickens running around with their heads chopped off whenever he left. It was rare delight to encounter the nights that he was actually permitted to sleep through the night.
On top of the texts that were just brimming with simple incompetency, the morons that lit up his phone in the middle of the night always seemed to wake up his wife, Isabel, who suffered from insomnia to begin with. The raise Andrew agreed to that stated he kept his ringer on for these occasions never seemed worth it when he saw Isabel the next day, curled up in the guest room with dark circles under her eyes from her attempts to get away from the constant chiming.
Andrew rubbed a hand over eyes to clear them, trying to understand the ridiculous amount of messages but he must have been more tired than he thought since they didn’t make sense.
He quickly scrolled through the message previews, finding they all seemed to follow the same pattern: to look at the moon. The moon? What the -? Why?
It was like a shot to his adrenaline when he saw that some of the messages were coming from Isabel’s phone. He shot up from bed, seeing the other side empty, and jumped to his feet.
“Hun, what’s going on,” Andrew questioned, still scrolling through his phone while walking towards the guest room. The room was at the end of the hallway and the door was wide open. He could see Isabel standing in the middle of the room, arms down by her side and phone clutched in her hand as she gazed out the window.
As he grew closer, he could see that she was shaking, “Bel? Honey? What’s wrong, why-”
Isabel’s body whipped toward him and Andrew couldn’t help himself, he froze in place. She ran and shoved her body into the door, slamming it shut and locking it in place.
The speed was all wrong though, Andrew had never seen her move that fast. It was insane, it was...inhuman….
His own body started to tremble when he remembered her eyes. Her pupils were dilated and not a single bit of the green irises he loved so much were left.
He was just about to ram his own body into the door, to beg her to let him in and make her explain what is happening, but then she started sobbing.
“Andrew! You need to run, you need to hide! I’m so sorry, god I am so sorry. Run, Andrew, and whatever you do, don’t look at the moon!”
Andrew started pounding his fists on the door and trying to shove his weight against it, but she must have blocked it with something.
Despite his shouting and his pleading to be let in, his forgotten phone on the hallway floor seemed to crack through the commotion as the alarms of the emergency alert system distracted him for just a moment. The robotic voice started to play from his phone automatically, “WARNING. THIS IS NOT A TEST. THIS IS AN EMERGENCY ALERT. DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON. WARNING. THIS IS NOT A TES-”
Andrew thought his distress was at its peak, nothing was making sense and he just needed to get Isabel so they could deal with this together. He just needed to-
Her screams started and it struck him cold to the very center of his being. He began pounding and kicking at the door until it gave way under his body. Isabel was on the floor, writhing in the moonlight. Andrew couldn’t help it, his knees buckled and he emptied the contents of his stomach right where he stood.
Isabel's body was bent at every wrong angle possible but she wasn’t screaming anymore. Her head snapped in his direction with that ungodly speed again. Bathed in the moon’s light and pupils still completely dilated, she smiled up at him as if every bone in her body wasn’t broken.
In the same voice she used to tell soothe him time after time, she whispered, “Look at the moon, Andrew.”
| ######[](#dropcap)
It was one of those surreal moments that you only get to experience once in life.
Linda was working on the script for the next show when her phone began to buzz. Slowly at first, just a couple messages. Work friends, she thought. Thursday was always their night out for drinks, but she had been too busy tonight to join them.
Then the buzzing became more rapid, until her phone began vibrating constantly on the bed. With a frown, she glanced at the messages that were popping up quickly, one after another. They were all from random numbers, all sending the exact same message. She scrolled through, just to make sure she wasn't missing something.
"It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside."
A frisson of fear ran down her spine. After a minute, the messages slowed down. Then a singular message, different from the previous ones.
"DO NOT LOOK OUT YOUR WINDOW."
It was from her boyfriend, Jordan. Her mind reeled. This had to be some kind of joke. She'd been such a good girl. She never went to abandoned houses and never walked into creepy forests alone. She was always sure to lock her windows and doors at night.
So with hesitant steps, she walked toward the dark curtain that was covering her window. Slowly, she reached out a hand and flicked off the lamp on her desk so that her room became pitch dark. It would help, at least, if whatever was out there couldn't see in. Then, she slowly slid open the curtain and peeked outside, expecting the worst. Perhaps a killer clown or a ghost.
She squinted. Was that...Jordan?
Without hesitating, she ran toward her bedroom door, throwing it open, and dashed down the steps of her apartment until she was at the bottom. There, she watched as her boyfriend was desperately trying to bring down the small hot air balloon that he had somehow managed to raise a little ways from her window.
He glanced down at her, then ducked into the basket. She simply stood there, waiting for him to get down. When the balloon came close enough, she saw the sign plastered to the front, and burst out into laughter.
On the front of the balloon, in large bold, flowery lettering, were the words:
LINDA, WILL YOU MARY ME?
When the hot air balloon touched down, Jordan climbed out, his face bunched up. "I told them not to send the messages, but it was too late when I noticed the typo--I'm going to kill Erin by the way--and everyone has such quick reflexes-"
Linda simply laughed and cut him off, throwing herself into his arms. "The answer's yes, in case you were wondering."
Jordan froze for a moment before he hugged her tight, lifting her up and spinning her around in the air. Then, huffing and puffing, he set her down, breaking out in a large smile as he gazed her windswept hair and freckles. "Best girlfriend ever," he said softly.
"Best fiancée ever," she corrected, and tilted his face so they could look at the moon together. "You have great timing, by the way. It's a full moon tonight."
"I meant to do that," he said, and kissed her on the forehead. Then he pulled out his phone.
"Mission success," he typed into the group chat, and ignored the kissy faces that flooded in. He would get revenge on Erin tomorrow, he vowed, his face dark. But at least, he thought, this would be a tale to tell the grandkids.
*****
r/AlannaWu | 2022-10-06T10:06:56 | 2022-06-10T18:58:05 | 483 | 308 |
[WP] You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego..
[removed] | Red.
​
All I have been seeing is Red. The seething hatred which is now my soul. I don't know where it came from but I wouldn't be bothered. All I knew was these fuckers had to pay.
It could've been stopped if the Hero was dead. But the villain just HAD to say something. He told how his plan was fool-proof, and how he was gonna make the Hero suffer. All the while my Ana was disgruntled. I tried to look at her face, ignoring her severed legs and her guts which spilled over the floor. She was still alive, but in pain. Too much pain.
She looked at villain and mouthed the words which still haunt me.
"Kill me"
The Villain went on and on how about he has Hero in his fingers, and marveling at his stupidity.
"Kill me" She mouths in vain. I can't bare it no more.
​
Something snapped. And all I saw was Red. I stood up, picked her head up. She looked at me terrified and confused, but her face shone with acceptance and happiness. She smiled at me. I twisted her neck with a loud snap.
I went for the villain next. Ripped out his throat. I ripped out the Hero's throat too.
Speak now, you fuckers. Play your sick twisted games, with disregard for lives around you. I want to hear your chatter, your reckless, witty banter.
More importantly, I want to hear them stop.
And make them stop I will. | It's the same old story, Doctor Brainmaster is robing a bank again and I have to stop him. I hop into my Red, White, and Blue plane and head towards the Central City bank. Hovering above it I see the good doctor has hostages. With a great leap a crash through the Bank's celling. "Captain Fist" he says, "what an unexpected surprise". A trap below my feet goes snap but I narrowly miss it; he fires a few bolts out of his head cannon but I weave through them all till I'm right in front of him. "You're going to jail for your crimes Brainmaster!" I say triumphantly and send a fist right into his face, knocking him to the ground. "You haven't seen the last of me" he cries while I tie him up and hoist him over my shoulder, "You'll...". The body goes limo and the villain goes silent. I remove him from my shoulder to look at him and see that his head is gone. I go to turn around till I feel a pain in my neck and then nothing. | 2019-08-06T21:26:45 | 2019-08-06T19:35:07 | 26 | 11 |
[WP] You are a being capable of granting wishes so long as people paid by giving away the most precious thing in their lives. Today, you are surprised by the wish and payment given to you. | Magic, despite what you the uninitiated think, actually has very strict rules.
It's all about give and take. See, I'm what you might call a genie. I grant wishes, but it's not as easy as rubbing a lamp.
To get something you have to give up something, of equal value. Now value of things in a universal sense of magic is not a set value, but it's pretty consistent in my experience.
I have witnessed eons of its working as it should. People giving up their names for boons. People giving up their spouses for blessings. Their children for life beyond death.
The spouse given up will go on their own path with zero recollection of the marriage. The child will be given to a new family. The name will be lost to time.
Give and take. All fair.
It was the child that stumped me.
In all my years, no child had made it up the mountain into my cave. I still don't know how this one made it up here, but what's done is done.
I told the child what the rules were, and the child agreed. The next day, the child was back with a stone in his hand.
A stone? A stone!?
Was it a gem? A Ruby? A priceless heirloom? A sign of forgotten royalty that could buy a Kingdom back through right circumstance?
No. Twas just a stone.
I was flummoxed. Even more so when I heard the wish.
No child should go hungry ever again.
Now such a wish is beyond me. Such a wish is beyond most beings of power, even the ones not tied down with rules.
Every child of every species of all time from now on never going hungry???
All laws of space time and energy would be bent.
And in return, a stone?
I ask about the stone. And if the boy is sure.
Yes. He is. And the stone is valuable. The child won't say how.
Fine. I assume that the wish just won't work. My magic after all is tied to the value perceived in the sacrifice. A sacrifice of something trivial will lead to nothing, and given the absurdity of the wish?
Double nothing.
So I summon the magick and...
It works.
I don't know what happened next. Well, not exactly.
I can feel that the fabric of the world has changed completely. And I? I have no clue how or why or what has even happened.
The child left my cave. He left the stone behind. I shudder to think how his wish mutated the world but am in awe of his vision and dedication.
I'm still surprised how a single stone could empower such a selfless wish.
It is only when i touch the stone do i realize. My magic allows me to go through the object into the feelings put into it.
I sense the orphans misery. The abject hunger. I feel the saliva sticking to the stones surface, and even the drool is full of hunger and lack.
I sense love and desire and desparation. I sense caring for the entire world and the skies beyond, all put into this one stone.
I sense the pain of loving the only thing you can in a world that treats you as dirt because you possess nothing of value.
Nothing but a stone you picked on the ground.
And now, somehow, he gave it all up, for a world where no child will starve?
The stone is my most treasured belonging. I have closed the entry to my cave.
I follow the child through a distance, knowing full well this is a child of destiny.
I can't wait to see what else he brings forth on his journey. | I had been asleep for thousands of years, occasionally awaking for the odd traveler to request eternal wealth in exchange for their mothers locket or their fathers watch. But today was different. As I hear someone approach, I note that they seem to be jingling a lot, almost like there’s hundreds of tiny bells attached to them. This of course intrigues me, it’s not often a unique individual comes to my domain, but today much be special.
A man approaches, he’s not a particularly notable man in his appearance, he’s fairly short and has a bland face. But the thing about him that I cannot get over is that this man is covered in what appears to be a chainmail suit made of exclusively bells. Not just a few bells either, hundreds or thousands of bells strung together by what must have been a master craftsman. I cough, having not spoken in many decades. “Why hello young Traveller, what might the great and powerful Grathon do for you today? Perhaps one of my handmade good intrigues you?” I say, knowing the answer will be no as per usual. “Oh great Grathon, I come seeking a wish! In exchange I shall give you my most prized possession” the Traveller says unsurprisingly. I reach down and grab my pouch, to a human this is a normal empty pouch, but if I put someone’s most prized possession inside, it will give out one ticket that can make a wish.
I go towards the Traveller “so Traveller, what is your most prized possession? Give it to me” I say, expecting him to take off his bell suit. “Ah of course, though I am sad to see it go, I must give you this” he hands me what appears to be a small jade pig, not bigger than my hand. “Hmm I see, why is this your most prized possession Traveller?” I ask out of curiosity. “Why that is a long story Grathon, but I will tell you this, that pig holds the key to all of life and humanity, and I give it up for this one wish” the Traveller says. I look at the pig, there’s nothing of note on this pig other than the fact it’s made of jade, however I take the travelers word for it and put it in the pouch. Surprisingly the pouch pops out a ticket, it really was the travelers most prized possession.
“Here Traveller, take this ticket and speak your wish in my presence and it will be done” I say, as I do with all travelers. The Traveller stops for a minute, seemingly startled that he has gotten what he came for. “Ok… I wish that everyone in the world would go deaf, including me” he says in a matter of fact tone. I sit there, looking quizzically at the Traveller “are you… sure that’s what you want?” I say. “Positive” the Traveller says.
With a snap of my fingers the world goes quiet for everyone, except for me of course. As the man leaves I sit and ponder why this man has just made the whole world deaf instead of just changing his armor to something that wasn’t made of bells… I guess we’ll never be able to hear the answer. | 2022-03-30T01:02:06 | 2022-03-29T23:51:22 | 129 | 25 |
[WP] Rampant use of performance enhancing drugs amongst elite Olympic athletes coupled with lifetime bans has led to the creation of the "Performance Games" which encourages pushing the limits of human ability by any means possible. But what happens when things are taken too far? | More Human Than Human. That was the motto of the games. It had started years before. There were more banned competitors than there were clean,and of course someone somewhere had figured out that there was money to be made. The original competitors had fought with steroids and crude cybernetics. Everyone had wanted a piece of the pie,and newer and better methods of enhancement were everywhere. Once the restrictions on human cloning were lifted...well,the sky was the limit. Adam had been grown in a lab. Conceived by a corporation,and raised by marketing execs,he was supposed to be the perfect human specimen. He could run faster....lift more...endure more...BE more than any other human since the dawn of time. And he was not alone. The technology that had been used to develop him had also been used by The Chinese...by the New Soviet Union...By Korea...although the countries that owned them were constantly at war,Adam viewed the other competitors not as his rivals,but as his brothers and sisters. They were the new race. The master race. And this world would soon belong to them. Let the games begin. | Amery and Styll were lost. Styll woke first. Nothing but blue in all directions. The sea was calm at least, it could've been worst. But only by a bit. We must have overdosed again in practice, she thought. How far did we row? In which direction?
Amery tried to throw up over the side of the little vessel. Nothing came up. Food wasn't on their practice plan.
"Do we have any left? "
"Two more"
"Good. But which way? " | 2014-08-24T09:44:32 | 2014-08-24T07:50:21 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] Weapons become more powerful the older they get. Modern guns will barely give someone a scratch but an ancient spear can devastate armies. | I dug… where had I put it? The valley was still recognizable on the whole, but many of the features were different.
I heard a cough behind me. I spun. The man in the suit was holding *my gun*. "Looking for this?"
I just blinked and considered diving for him - the gun he was holding wouldn't shoot for anyone but me - but… I spied that he also held a positively ancient-looking stone knife in his off-hand. I had no chance.
He smiled thinly. "Nice time machine you have there. Too bad it was 'noisy'. I knew what to look for, and dug this beauty out a few days ago. Oldest weapon in the world, I think, now, even if it does have a holo-sight, motion tracking, verbal feedback, night vision… the best of both worlds. No more shooting ancient arrowheads out of a computerized gun for me. How far back did you put it? Triassic era, was it?"
I nodded.
"I think I'm going to see what it does now."
He fired. Or rather, he squeezed the trigger.
We were both kind of expecting it not to fire. Neither of us expected it to chop his fingertip off and jump out of his hand in my general direction. I reached forward to snatch it out of the air, already shouting 'stun' to change mode, and even before it had reached my grasp it had fired and disabled him.
I addressed the gun in wonder. "Hello." | I sat in the small, uncomfortable plane. The erratic beating of my heart was no less peaceful than the turbulent winds outside. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
The modern weapons of war were tactical and humanitarian in nature. A half-century old rifle was brutally effective, clunky and inhumane. All militaries were required to keep their firearms current to within ten years to avoid unnecessary suffering. Modern guns, bombs and planes, like the one I was in had their advantages not in power but in range, reliability and stealth.
The soft blinking of the light told me to prepare. That was a farce; I didn't need to prepare. There wasn't a parachute to drop me. That would just make me easier to hit on the way down. The only other man noticed it as well and with a face no less grim than my own began popping open the airtight box. Very carefully, with both hands, he gave me a simple piece of wood with a rock tied to the end.
"You're going to bomb them back to the stone age, Soldier."
All I had to do was hit the ground. | 2017-04-21T11:49:06 | 2017-04-21T10:15:10 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] Hell is real. The many sinners of the world did what humans always do when faced with hostile terrain: they built a civilization. | Hell gets a bad rep.
I think it's all the propaganda, the usage in media, you know. It's always portrayed as this terrible place of suffering and despair, so you play by all the rules, try to be decent. Then lo and behold, you kick the bucket and end up here. Most people go through the few basic stages - shock and horror, denial, bargaining, you get the gist. But then they actually look around and realize what it looks like.
For starters, there are quite a few religions present. I won't go into the details - let's just say it's... complicated, but it does cause a ruckus every time. Then after that, you realize that what you are now facing is indeed torture of the most heinous kind.
Bureaucracy.
You can't just *stroll* into Hell - there's a process to uphold. Fill out your name, age, cause of death if you remember, preferred colour, the usual. Then you get a ticket, wait in line, and get assigned to a Circle. I know, 'Circles' are a bit cliché, but they really do look like that. Mind you - it's not based on sin, more like an aggregate of your life.
Now I know what you're thinking. *'What the, uh, heck are you talking about? Tickets? Lines? This is Hell!'* Well, yes. But Hell is full of people, not just demons. And contrary to popular belief, demons are not particularly interested in the whole torture thing. They do however enjoy music, narcotics, and - don't ask why - baking shows. All of those things are made by - you know it.
Humans.
When humans first arrived here, it was a wasteland full of miserable demons and lost souls. But people are crafty. Foolhardy. And damn stubborn. So they got together and cooperated. Food is not an issue in here as you don't *need* to eat, so it was mostly about shelter and company. Soon, well, just look at history - large settlements, services, goods, currency, it went from there.
So, yeah. Hell gets a bad rep. So don't worry, ey? Now, if you could fill our your name *here*, your age *here*... | The year is 2186, humans died after the ark rocket's hyperdrive exploded during testing, the entire earth was destroyed with it leaving nobody alive, its been 5 days since the death of humanity.
This is a story about a man named Jonathan(32), he woke up on the outskirts of Hell, in the region known as Sceptir to the demons, a cavy and dangerous(even for Hell) place. Jonathan was walking with a group of 3 other people, who he had found while journeying in Sceptir, Henry(26), Richard(29), and Jessica(23). Henry and Richard were friends before the disaster, during the walk they'd been talking with each other, despite being in Hell, the two felt like trying to enjoy the rest of their days together, Jessica just followed quietly behind them, observing the enviroment. The group came across a lava river, 4 yard across, Jonathan said "Richard, did you ever build a bridge when you were a civil engineer?" "No, i wasn't doing it for long, i really only worked on 1 house before i woke up here." Said Richard. They were just about to walk back the way the came when Henry shouted "Hey guys, i think you missed something." Henry and Jessica were already on the other side of the river, Henry pointed to a red tree-like plant that reached over the river, after Jonathan and Richard climbed across, Henry said "Yeah, Jessica found it pretty fast, like she knew the place." Jessica just stood waiting for them to start walking again, Jonathan noticed that she was hiding something behind her back, and just told everyone to continue forward.
Ill just leave this as the end of Part 1, if you think this was good maybe ill add more, feel free to add on your own headcanon if i don't. | 2022-02-02T14:48:20 | 2022-02-02T10:42:56 | 80 | 14 |
[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. | Hey Moose,
We had a good run. 16 years is good for a dog that somebody else starved in their back yard for a while.
You did really good. You remembered all those tricks somebody else taught you, showed the cats/birds love, and learned to stop being scared over food. You gave the best hugs on the planet.
I'm sorry that your last days hurt so much. We tried to work around your sickness best we could but it was too late when we figured out what was wrong.
I know you couldn't understand at the time but the other twin dogs were hurt just like you, but instead of missing food they never had love or anyone else. Thanks for trying to love them, too. They've gotten a lot better at nipping and trusting people over time.
That last year was really rough but the time the family had with you was beautiful...even though the " dog ate the sofa" story still makes the rounds at parties. Say hi to Herky, Xena, Scouty, Jazz, Ouma and the birds for me.
Thanks for that last smile.
Hanging in as always,
E. | Dear self.
I’m sorry for what I’ve become. A lowly clingy piece of trash just barely surviving. If you could see me 10 years ago, what would you think? Maybe I was happy before. Maybe I had friends who truly cared for me.
Now I hide. I’m broken. I’ve lost my will to live. I can’t function on my own. I cry myself to sleep. I want to die. I wish I could’ve tried harder. Maybe I could’ve fit in better. I’m trying my best but it isn’t enough.
I doubt I’ll be alive for another year at this rate.
Yours truly,
Yourself. | 2017-11-06T00:29:00 | 2017-11-05T23:37:29 | 235 | 12 |
[WP] In the year 2200, an IQ test with 100% accuracy is invented. IQ becomes the universal grade of intelligence. By law, everyone has to take the test at 18. You’re a perfectly normal university student with a part time job but now you've got to explain to everyone why the test shows your IQ is 0. | "What do you mean it says zero?" the major bellowed. "Did you eggheads forget an electrode?" He turned and stared at me through the glass. I think I had gone cross-eyed by that point.
"Uh, no sir, it would be reporting NULL if there was no connection." One of the anonymous men in lab coats tentatively replied. He had stupid glasses. He pushed them up on his nose, nervously.
"Is he dead?"
"Uhm, unlikely. The empirical lower bound is, uhh, 15, sir. That's what the uhh... the Salmon Test showed." Another anonymous lab coat replied. The only thing I remember about him is that he had disheveled red hair.
"The Salmon Test?"
"We tested the device on a dead salmon. Since it's an active probe, it can detect residual neural pathways, even in non-living specimens. Cadavers usually measure at about 25." Beads of sweat had started forming at his hairline.
I think that's when the bit of drool hit my chest. It's hard to form memories when I'm in the zone.
"So, is he stupid?"
"Uhh, no, sir, we think it might, uhh, be the exact opposite. We think he might, uhh, be gaming the machine"
Busted!
"Don't fuck with me, son. Why would he want to game the machine?"
"We, uhm.. well, we don't know. He's been non-communicative since we started testing."
Ha! I've been "non-communicative" for, jesus, 5 years now? Time flies in the Himalayas.
"Well, I know how to get him to talk." The major bristled to attention and started walking to the door.
Time to really fuck with them. I felt my eyes roll back.
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit." one of the lab coats started murmuring. I couldn't figure out which timeline he belonged to, let alone which lab coat he was. "Sir, excuse me, but he's registering at -20 now."
"What the fu--"
The ground started humming. That was new. I tried to move it up to the walls.
"Negative 26"
Everything was blurry. I lost track of which direction time was moving.
"Negative 32"
Must have still been moving forward. I tried to get the walls to harmonize with the floor.
"Negative 35"
A drop of liquid hit my chest. That might have been the nosebleed? Could have just been another bit of drool. I felt all of their anxiety, their fear. The red-haired lab coat worried I would make him shit himself. Stupid Glasses realized I was in his mind and tried to plead with me. The major was thinking of his wife and twin daughters, hoping they would be strong after he died. I'd probably made my point.
I snapped out and wiped the blood and drool from my chest, while holding eye contact with the major. I scanned the room, all of the lab coats were staring at me. None of them noticed the score on the machine rising sharply. I locked eyes with Stupid Glasses, since he was the closest to understanding. I stood up, put my finger to my lips, and as I exhaled a quiet "shh", I surged the console into a display of sparks and shattered the glass between us. I yanked the electrodes off of me, walked through the broken window, and headed to the door. All of them stood frozen, still staring at me. As I reached for the door handle, I looked back at all of them, and for the first time in years, I spoke. My voice hoarsely crackled a warning, "Leave all this be. Bad juju."
As I closed the door behind me, the red-haired lab coat shit himself, but I swear to god, that wasn't me. | "No sir you don't understand. The test is 100% accurate. Not 99.99 percent accurate. 100%."
"Ma'am I refused to take the test on the grounds that-"
"The test is 100% accurate. 100." She cut me off, this time slightly more annoyed, "From the moment you entered the test chamber until the very moment you left the test was assessing your every action. You'll have to be put on a list."
"A list? A fucking list what does that mean? And what sort of free society-"
"Now you just settle down right now!", Interjecting authoritatively, she continued,"And don't you worry about it. It's just one of these forms we just have to fill out when one of you people comes through here. It's to get you the help you need! They might put you in a home", The sentence ended sugar-sweet cheerfully, sprinkled with flakes of condescension.
"Ma'am what do y-
"Excuse me I have to go make a phone call."
"You mean you-"
The door slammed and she was gone. I mean all I did was reject the notion of a state sponsored intelligence testing requirement, and not knowing what they even do with that data! But a zero? Man, that hurts. That's how I know it can't be right! I mean I demonstrated tool use by using the stylus they provided to scratch that part of you butt crack that's just low enough to not be able to scratch while you make it look like you're adjusting your pants. And I was even courteous about putting it back for the next person, which should at least show I have some memory! Come on man! It didn't assess any of that!
Just then the door opened and a rather large man holding a doctors diagnotic tool came in and pulled up a little swivel stool and sat down right in front of me. I waited while he fiddled with the controls before pointing to the level that controlled the height. He dropped himself down to just below my eye level.
"Hi there. I'm Doc Zee and I'll be looking after you."
"Oh Don't bother Doc, he probably can't even understand you.," The very helpful nurse added.
"But sometimes I wonder nurse, how much of us is left in there. Like this person could have been a person, like us. But their body somehow chose a different path. It's a mystery." Doc Zee now wore a childlike sense of wonder on his rather large face.
"Listen it's not a mystery, I'm pretty sure you can find the answer you want in most medical textbooks. Look though, I'm here, I can understand you, I'm fully cognizant. Can you please stop treating the test as if it was the work of the divine creator itself? I'm not going to sit here and be insulted by a faulty IBM with a bad sense of humor. I think you need to toss this out and forget about anything going forward. Intelligence testing has no place in a free society but to ostracize those that don't make par for the course. Can't you see this is wrong?!"
"The test is 100% accurate. All results are verifiable and 100%." A frown passed the over the nurses face.
"Come on there guy, lets go for a nice walk in the sunshine. You'd like that, right?," Doc Zee said putting a rather large hand on my shoulder,"And I'll show you your new home." | 2016-08-19T00:50:27 | 2016-08-19T00:38:57 | 200 | 14 |
[WP] So tell me this, elf. If you're so much better than humans at everything, then how come even though your ancient civilization dates back millenia before we "crawled out of the mud pits", you're still riding around on horses and swinging sharp pieces of metal just like us? | # Soulmage
**"Do you know what happens to civilizations that progress too far technologically?"** Tento asked.
I shook my head, eyeing the elf. His lips quirked in a joyous grin, and he leaned in close enough that I could feel his breath tickling my ear.
"*Neither do we,*" he whispered. A shiver ran down my spine, and I stepped back, pushing him away.
"What do you mean?" I asked. For once, the eternally-laughing elf had a hint of something else on his timeless face.
In response, Tanto simply stepped aside, resting one hand on the door behind him. The door I'd come here, into the depths of the Knwharfhelm dungeons, in order to get past.
"Would you like me to show you?" Tanto simply asked in reply.
Warily, I nodded.
Tanto pressed his hand to the door, and in my soulsight, I saw him disable the security spells, draining the small ocean of deadly light that would have killed me a hundred times over if I'd opened the door. Then he fished out a key—I suppose there was no need to trust in magic alone when physical security would do—and opened the door, descending further into the dungeons.
Pale witchlights hovered on the walls, gleaming brighter as Tanto idly refueled them with a thought. The stone was worn by ages of passing feet, and despite the handful of air spells ventilating the room, the atmosphere was dusty and choking.
And then we reached the basement.
The machine was vast, sprawling, and ticking with inscrutable designs. The only apparent interface was a vast array of levers, one of which Tanto pulled while I warily scrutinized the machine.
"GREETINGS," the machine said, and I yelped, jerking back in shock. Tentatively, I opened my soulsight—was that thing *alive*?
"Hello, Truthteller," Tanto said, a thin smile playing on his lips as he watched my reaction. "Would you like to tell my friend here a little about your purpose?"
"I AM THE TRUTHTELLER. KNOWLEDGE WILL BE REWARDED. YOU HAVE THREE ATTEMPTS PER DAY."
Tanto nodded solemnly. "Allow me to give a demonstration. Truthteller! The first of the truths we have to offer is this." Tanto closed his eyes, and I saw his soul shift as he accessed a memory. "Observations of horse breeds over the past two centuries have indicated that certain hereditary traits can appear to override others for a generation, but reveal themselves further down the hereditary tree. We name these traits as 'dominant' and 'recessive.'"
The machine hummed. "THIS TRUTH... IS KNOWN TO US."
"As recompense for my knowledge, I would like to claim a reward."
"...PROCEED."
"What, exactly, do you intend to do, the day that our civilization's knowledge of science exceeds yours? The day that we hand you a truth about the universe which is not known to you?"
The Truthteller paused.
"YOUR CURRENT LEVELS OF KNOWLEDGE ARE INSUFFICIENT TO CLAIM THIS REWARD," it finally said.
Tanto turned to me and gave me a wild-eyed grin. "So that's why," Tanto said, and there was something awful in the way he smiled. "Other civilizations have raced ahead, exploring the secrets of the universe and happily trading them to their Truthtellers for ever more knowledge. But we? First of the changed? We wonder... what happens when a civilization knows *too much?*"
"YOUR CURRENT LEVELS OF KNOWLEDGE ARE INSUFFICIENT TO CLAIM THIS REWARD," the Truthteller repeated.
Tanto's smile widened. "So that's why, human. Now run along and warn the others."
A.N.
This story is part of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts! Catch up on the rest [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=confidence), and check out r/bubblewriters for more! | Before I was born, a long time ago, there was a war. It was a war fought silently against the men who had recently discovered us and our kind. Their weapons back then were already impressive, their firearms were capable of killing even the strongest of our warriors.
"How did they find us?" one of the priests asked. He would die in attack a few days later, never knowing why or how it was that the humans discovered our land.
They'd taken half of our people in a month, even after all the tribes had agreed to a ceasefire. They had taken another half as we left, they chased us like dogs through the night and razed the forest to the ground, leaving nothing alive in their wake. We heard the forest scream as they cut and burn through it, we saw the spirits flee, we felt the emptiness of it.
It was my mother, the priest's daughter, that decided to flee into a land with no trees and more importantly, no humans.
"We need time," she said. "We need time to grow and recover."
They trekked north, far into the north where no humans could follow them no matter how badly they wanted to (and believe me, they wanted to). The further north they went, the colder it became, the forests were nonexistent, the cold refusing to cooperate with their growth. My mother, Saida, was a gifted botanist. She rarely relied on magic to help the plants grow, but there were no plants at all. They were hidden deep underneath the chill and the ice.
She complained about this often, she said that no elf could survive without the forest. They needed the sun as the trees did. She heard of an elf who could create light and fire. She heard of my father, Kivessin.
My mother taught others of her science and my father tried to teach anyone he could of wielding fire. They melted away the ice together, cultivating the land into something that could foster life. It took many, many years. Still years before I was born and they were working non-stop to create a new home. Elves are supposed to live for a long time, hundreds and hundreds of years if we were lucky.
My parents were young when they were forced to move. My mother was 70 and my father 102. They told me that when their parents were their age, they were still treated like children by their own parents. My parents died twenty years after they had me, many of the elves died in the journey north, but many more died after they reached their destination. The land that my parents cultivated was barely livable. The land was filled with scorn despite the love my parents poured into it. It was cold, infertile, and unforgiving. Any little mistake was amplified through the early deaths our people were suffering. The harsh of winter killing large swathes of trees that had already fought to grow.
"Never pass the trees, Alwin." my mother said to me. Every parent said that to their child here and every child wondered why.
Years passed in the eternally snowy forest and the world warmed. In my parents' dying years, they had thought that the warmth was a direct result of their hard work, but I knew it had something to do with the humans. The trees grew stronger and our people started to live longer.
After more years, our forest was thick with trees despite the snow and we wanted more. We expanded our territory, we sent scouts out to the south.
"Alwin!" one of the scouts yelled.
I saw them, dripping with sweat that had already frozen over. I waved my hand around them and the snow melted.
"What is it?" I asked.
"We found humans," he said.
"Wake the others." | 2022-09-04T08:51:49 | 2022-09-04T08:49:33 | 744 | 367 |
[WP] The hero shows up at the villians doorstep one night, shivering, bleeding, and scared. There’s also a dazed look in their eyes- they were drugged. Looking up at the villian, swaying as they’re close to passing out, they mumble “didnt know where else to go..” and collapse into the villians arms. | How did he know where I lived? That's the question I asked myself as I opened the door and looked into the face of my greatest enemy, Superion.
He looked like shit. Someone beat the hell out of him and he could barely stand up. He wiped away the blood from his face and said "I didn't know where else to go.." before collapsing in my arms. I had a lot of questions, like, who beat the shit out of him? And how did he know where I lived?
I dragged the self appointed alien savior of planet Earth inside. Any one of my three housemates could be home soon. Don't judge me, it's hard being a young super villain. Especially when you've blown through a ton of cash trying to take over the world and this dickhead who's bleeding on carpet keeps ruining my fucking plans. You have to cut some costs and get roommates. Mecha Armor and henchmen aren’t cheap you know. Don't come for me.
I carried him down the hall to my bedroom and threw him on the bed. I may or may not have worked myself into a panic. My internal monologue was on loop. How long has he known? He must have been gathering proof. Doing surveillance. How did I not see this coming? Some fucking super villain I am. How do I explain the blood on the carpet? I guess I could just kill Karen's dog and say robbers broke in. Wait, that won't work. Fuck, I am not up for this today. Jesus, I shouldn't have eaten that edible. It's Sunday, who does superhero shit seven days a week? Ok. I'm supposed to be solving the blood problem. Fuck it. It's my house, ain't gotta 'splain shit! Focus! Focus!'
Let's just see what Superion has to say for himself and find out who kicked his ass.
I smacked him around a bit. "Hey wake up, you're ruining my day, wake up".
He sat up on the bed. He gave me that square jawed, steely eyed look that I'd seen on tv a thousand times. For a brief second I thought I saw his eyes flash red. Then he suddenly burst into tears.
"What the..." I whispered to myself. Superion was having a full on crying jag. What is happening right now?
"Holy shit Superion, what is wrong with you? Who did this to you? And how do you know where I live?" I shouted at him. "Wait..."
Up close, he looks really familiar. I've never seen him this close before. I mean when I usually seem him, he's trying to punch my armored mecha suits or chasing my nuclear submarine to put me in prison. So I tend to stay far away from him if possible. But you know...if he had a beard, glasses and a craft beer in his hand, he would look just like...
"Are you Josh? I asked.
“What? Um No?” He broke eye contact with me and looked down.
"You are Josh! How? Can you do some kind of alien hipster beard magic?”
He looked at me and this time I was sure I saw the red glow in his eyes. Then he took a deep breath, puffed his cheeks and when he exhaled, a straight-up hipster beard sprouted out of his fucking face. HO LEE SHIT.
"Yeah Dave, I'm Superion and Karen is Lady Andromeda..." He said. Then he pointed to his battered face "...and she just found out about my new girlfriend".
"What sort of high school bullshit is this?" I said with pure incredulity.
“Wait, you have been hang out with Ashley a lot since she moved in and Karen has been being a real fucking Karen lately. She's Lady Andromeda? Oh shit.” I said with resignation.
Josh turned and looked off into the distance, obviously using his super vision.He put on his glasses and looked at me. "Karen's gonna kill her man, you gotta help me save her."
Fuck my life. | She stiffens. Her heart would have skipped a beat and her blood would have ran cold if she still had a human heart fed by human blood. The hairs on the back of her neck would have stood up and the skin along her arms would have rapidly risen into goosebumps. Her hands would perhaps shake and her pupils would have grown wide. None of those things happened. Instead, she just stares. Waits. Waits for the roaring in her ears to subside and for the stench of the enemy to either fade or grow ever stronger.
She rises from the plush chair, slowly, with cat-like movements she reaches for the ornate umbrella that has sat in its stand beside the door for the past two millennia. She almost mourns the days when she would keep tiny, ornate knives in her bodice as she wields it over her head. She inhales slowly. Her tongue curls as the stench of wet dog flows over her senses. She grips the umbrella tighter and pauses, willing her voice to not betray her fear.
“stay back. I’m armed. I’m not afraid of you, you you... fleabag.”
Damn. Her voice cracked slightly in the last syllable of her insult of choice. She internally curses herself again for her lack of creativity over said insult. “Fleabag?” Really? “Fleabag?” For a werewolf? How original.
She grips her less-than-threatening weapon ever tighter as a rather pathetic whine cuts through the silence. She winces as the sound of thick claws being dragged cruelly over ancient wood follows seconds later. She tries not to think of the marks being left on the 300 year old wood. Typical lack of respect. This was exactly why her kind had been at war with these dogs from the beginning of time. The sickly-sweet tang of fresh blood assaults her nose and she gags at the sudden attack on her sinuses. This is bad. Whatever injures a werewolf this badly will surely injure a vampire too.
She lowers her, rather pathetic, weapon to smooth down her skirts and makes her way purposefully towards door. Oh well. So much for a quiet evening. Stuff the vampire code. An injured werewolf is really no threat to her and she really can’t be bothered with another horde of Christians on her doorstep. Who knows? Maybe this werewolf will be a good attack dog to have on her side against the god-botherers if she ever decides to call in the favour.
He’s young. He still has the childlike air of a newly turned wolf, perhaps that is why he’s stuck somewhere between his two firms. She almost tuts as he opens and closes his mouth as tries to find words, any words, to plead for help. He sways on his feet as she wrenches the door open. Blood pours from the bullet wound in his side and matts into the thick fur that still grows from his shoulder. He shudders, and suddenly scrambles for purchase against the wall he has propped himself up on. She hisses as he tips forward, but nonetheless catches him gently as he falls heavily into her vicelike grip.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please don’t eat me” he gasps as he scrabbles to find purchase against the dark, hardwood floor. “I just didn’t know where to go and they said you were a nurse once, when you were human I mean, and it hurts, oh God it hurts, please just make it stop.”
She sighs as she drags his struggling form towards the couch. He’d better be a damn good guard dog if she was going to risk her reputation on him. | 2019-09-13T18:03:05 | 2019-09-13T17:49:17 | 31 | 13 |
[WP] You, an all-powerful villain, managed to defeat the child of prophecy. The problem is he's literally a child. You now turn your eyes towards the gods who sent the poor soul against you. | “Is this really what you wanted?”
My voice screeched skyward, scraping at the abyss of black looming above. Around me, the darkness shuddered, shaking my bones with a cold they had not known for many years. Their laughter resonated across realms, quaking the very foundations of the universe. These gods of old must have been amused by my pain.
Any other mortal might have felt honored to attract the gaze of the primordial ones. I was not so foolish.
The outline of the child remained slumped in the corner, growing cold now. The battle was short and his end had been quick. I’d made it so purposefully. Though evil, I was never known to be a cruel man. My voice cracked through the silence once more.
“You do not deserve their worship! You do not deserve the praise they bestow upon you!”
Again, the shadows trembled and quaked, offset by laughter more hearty than before. I grappled with the walls, tearing apart the room in anguish. I’d made promises with them long ago, promises which ensured great fortune on my behalf, should I succeed at every trial of their design. If I arose victorious, I would be known as the great equalizer; I would offset the ruin within this world with destruction of my own, bringing peace and order. It was evil to bring ruin and devastation to the world, that much was true. But it would have been more cruel to watch, to do nothing at all. I would not be a representation of the idle nature of my race. I would not wait for salvation; I would bring salvation to its knees before me and have it await my orders.
But the boy had been no older than seven. I now see the irony in his title “the child of prophecy”. There would never be a time when he was old enough to be called a man or a warrior. The gods of old had not dubbed him so to speak of his skills as a prodigy, but to mock his ineptitude. He was a sacrifice, a pawn.
He was a testament to what I was willing to sacrifice to succeed in my quest. How hungry was such destruction, they must have wondered. Would it be worth this? Would it? The walls continued to rumble. They laughed at my pain, even still.
I turned my gaze towards the sky, and stopped a moment to feel the silence once more. The promise had been fulfilled. The power to fulfill my darkest desires had been met. I could see them now, the old ones, wrapped in the shadows of the universe. Their smiles were uncomfortably wide and sinister. In the deepest pits of my heart, their laughter echoed.
“Was it worth it?” I asked, and they gaped with amusement. They did not answer, but hesitated as the power of our transaction flooded my senses. I breathed deeply.
At last, they responded: “What shall be done first, little one? To whom will you bestow your wrath?” Another chuckle resounded, rippling across the abyss. “Or perhaps the death of the prophecy was too taxing a trial for the pursuit of such evil... Have you gone soft, boy?”
They were taunting, teasing me as one. I lifted my gaze to them once more.
“No. I shall still fulfill my duties as the great equalizer.” As I spoke, I forced the darkness around me to abandon its plight. “I shall begin with you.”
More laughter. The walls began to wobble and groan.
“We are gods, foolish one. We cannot be purged, nor defeated.”
It was my turn to smile.
“Then, you ought not have given me the title of equalizer, now should you?” At this, I could laugh. I could chuckle as much as one could fathom. I could seize with joy as long as my lungs would enable me. It was empty, visceral laughter.
But the walls did not tremble. The darkness did not quiver. The old ones were quiet. Their laughter was not present. How could it be? They were already dead. And I had made it so. | "What the fuck"
"Sorceress, we've been ex-"
"*What. The. Fuck.*"
"Your monstrous end had to come at so-"
"Don't.. You dare. Speak to me with that tone. You have no moral high ground here. A child, you sent to kill me, a child." She said gesturing to the boy sobbing in the arms of one of her assistants, Throg, scraggly dwarven man, not the smartest but unmatched in decor and a heart of gold. "What do you have to say to me in your defense?"
"Excuse us, we overestimated the literacy of farmers."
Her fingers itched and crackled with primordial energy, she could kill them all if she wanted to "You have my attention"
"We do not control the ebb and flow of the universe any more than you, we merely try and often fail to act as its voice. What we know is that your paths are intertwined and that there was no later date to bring you together. What we know is what we wrote of: A child of prophecy to conquer the known world, a child of prophecy to lead it. What we know is why you would refuse to kill the boy." She looked at the axe in her hand, it was so small, how could one be so stupid to rely on a trinket like this to kill the most powerful sorceress the world has ever known? Only one has ever come close, Lily, her battering ram, her strength and simple manner of speech expertly masked an acute understanding of prophecy, she would have understood what the gods were saying.
"You employ and deploy a simple farmboy to end my reign and now you torment me with these memories, why? What is this meant to accomplish?"
"A reminder."
Her thoughts returned to Lily, they found each other in a prison camp, one as a guard, one as an inmate. It was a shock at first, the guard has never seen one before, but Lily explained the plight on her people and her unique appearance being due to the forced extinction of her culture and traditions, a vile act committed by the guard's own employers. It took time and research and questioning but Lily's words carried more and more weight with every entry, every passing comment. It was a violent night, she still flinches at the memory of the atrocities she committed. For 10 years they travelled together, leaving retribution in their wake everywhere they went, at whatever cost. The allies they gathered and the skeletons they made founded the world they all now tread upon, Lily was always the more effective talker, speaking of creating a better world than the one they found themselves in. She turned her attention toward the boy once again, his eyes, bloodshot, still watery, green, innocent, familiar. "He's a farm hand, what does he know of managing trade and border disputes?"
"Only what he is taught"
The words stung in her ears, they'd been spat at her enough times by the arcane scholars she tried and often failed to learn from. She gently set the axe aside and approached him, slowly, gingerly, and as she did he recoiled. "I will not hurt you," She insisted, "I refuse to hurt you." she reassured. "You stood against insurmountable odds, you already tread farther and overcame more than any other would dare or bother. In time you will rule in my place, but first I must teach you how."
Pleased, the gods one by one faded away, the prophecy was nearly complete. | 2021-02-21T23:07:46 | 2021-02-21T20:02:07 | 43 | 18 |
[WP] You're a judge, with special abilities to read minds, and see into one's past. There is an innocent man on trial for murder. However, the opposition lawyer have very concrete fake evidence that convicts him. Tell me the process of you saving the innocent accused. | This was a massive changing point in my career, do I try and be the hero and risk my credibility? Or do I just have to suck it up and deal with the guilt? This man was brought here against his will and now had a whole trial to deal with. He was already poor, I could see it. How would he pay for his legal fees? I couldn't live with the image of this man rotting in a cell for the rest of my life. I had to take action.
Now all alone in my office, I started pouring over the evidence looking for holes. This is what I trained all my life for, right? It was all fake but how? I hadn't read the opposition's mind deeply enough, I needed more. I picked up some random books from my shelf and started walking out into the entrance hall of the court. There was the lawyer! I deliberately walked into him sending his coffee flying across the room and my books crashing to the floor.
"I'm so sorry!" He said "I wasn't looking, let me pick up your books for you.
He bent down and started to compile my bizarre collection.
"To Kill A Mockingbird? A fine novel but I don't see it's relation to this case."
"Ah yes, a judge needs to relax before they can probably consult evidence." I replied. It was no easy feat to think up plausible responses when trying to delve into someone's mind but my dedication to justice prevailed.
"And this." Remarked the lawyer smarmily as he held up a book about Italian Wine.
"A present for my husband."
"Your husband has good taste. What is his favourite wine?"
"Am I the one on trial here, Mr. Rinder?"
"No, your honor." He replied as his cocky facade slipped away. "Here are your books."
I snatched back my books with a glare and retreated to my office repeating what I'd seen in my head. The defendant's car was found in a scrapyard with the victim's blood smeared on the seats. However, the victim was a regular blood donor and their blood had been unlawfully stolen. I hastily phoned the hospital and sure enough, they told me that the victims blood had disappeared around the time of the murder. I made sure the conversation was recorded and began to recall the second fakery. The blood-stained car was taken from the suspect's house to the scrapyard while the innocent man slept. I immediately rushed to the scrapyard and checked their CCTV records. Clear as day, a white man was seen on the night of the murder stepping out of the car. The defendant is black.
With my charm and persuasion, I could easily win the case with this evidence. I returned to the courtroom with confidence knowing that this man could be saved from life in prison and justice would be preserved. I swiftly lay into the opposition. I found myself getting feisty, criticising the lawyer's appearance. He tried to speak but I wouldn't stop the onslaught, with every look at the man I gleamed new evidence. My adrenaline converted all my rage against this man into cold hard facts. There were cheers coming from the back and the defendant was shocked at what he was seeing. After my statement was over, I calmly retreated to my office to wait for the jury's decision. I made a coffee and started to reread To Kill A Mockingbird. I got as far as the end of Chapter 1 when a friendly receptionist peeked her head round my door and ushered me back to the courtroom.
It was a landslide in favour to the defendant by 19-1. He even started to weep as I stepped down from the stand and started to retreat back to my office once more. My moment of glory was cut short when two men approached me with an offer. I struggled to hear what they were saying as the chants of "JUDY! JUDY!" were still ringing from the courtroom.
"Mrs. Sheindlin, after your performance at the audition today we would like to offer you a television deal."
"Your saying that this was all a audition for some kind of TV show?" I replied, my head spinning trying to process all this new information.
"I am afraid so, your Honor. Do you want the job?"
"Yeah, why not? I was sick of being a real judge anyway."
This was a massive changing point in my career but not in the way I expected. | I wake up in the morning with an intense migraine and a now-emptied-out cheap bottle of wine tipped over the side of my bed, leaving a stain that runs down the side of my mattress onto the carpet beneath it. I realize why I must have drank so heavily last night as I take out my phone and see that I have to present another case today. And I've overslept by half an hour.
I can tell today's going to be as terrible as always.
I'm already running through the events of the day in my head. I'm going to head into the court, only to find some cocky thug waiting for me that has the aura of someone who thinks he knows everything about the way the world works. I'm going to see into his past and live through yet another brutal crime of some sort acted out with no regard to the pain and suffering caused through their actions.
As I look into the bathroom mirror as I brush my teeth a little later on in the morning, I wonder how it is that I manage to stay looking so... clean. It's not like I could care one way or the other anymore, but as a judge I suppose I have to make appearances look prominent. Still, it feels like extra work that's just a chore for the sake of a chore at this point.
Granted, it's not like I look like some sort of model. If that were the case, then that's surely what I would have gone into over the mess I've gotten myself in now. Anything but being a judge would have been better.
Not that I could've known any better back when I decided how I would spend my life. Back when I decided how to use my gift of seeing into another's past.
I had thought that being a judge would have been genius, that I could be able to single handedly determine the guilt or innocence of a suspect. No more innocent people would have to suffer if I just went into a court and looked at them in the right way. It was perfect.
Little did I know that I would never be prepared for what I would see. Every. Single. Case. Some defendants were nervous and shaking the earth out of fright. Some would end up being far more confident with their case and their likeliness to be let go. Some would win, some would lose. But in the end, all of them ended up being the same. All of them were guilty, and I had to relive tragedy day after day.
In my first case, I almost went into shock over what I relived the defendant doing. I'll never forget it; walking up to the side of his mother's car as she waited for the garage door to open, and firing right into the passenger side window. Her lying limp as he just stood there, looking at the consequences of his actions. I had thought then that I would be able to put up with the terrible images if it meant at some point I saved an innocent life from pain.
Then I saw drugs being dropped into a girls coffee when she wasn't looking. I saw the gun being pointed at the cashier in a bank. I saw a car ram into a pedestrian while the driver was drunkenly swerving across the road. I saw a lot of scenes that I could never unsee, and never once did I look to find that I didn't see those scenes. So after not too long, I just stopped looking.
---
I know that I haven't finished everything in terms of the prompt, but I thought this was a good stopping point for now. This is my first try at writing something this long, and even though I kept on thinking that it wasn't good enough, I just kinda pushed through until I got this far. Suggestions on how I could write better are really encouraged, and if people want to see it enough I'll write more to this story.
Thanks a lot for reading my first attempt at something this long, guys.
* numdegased | 2016-07-11T17:59:30 | 2016-07-11T16:02:59 | 58 | 12 |
[WP] You die and go to heaven and in heaven there is a rule. Every time someone on Earth says your name with the intention of mentioning you specifically, one dollar is added to your bank account in heaven. You lived the most average and mundane life on Earth but you are a billionaire in heaven. | We never had children. We couldn't have them ourselves, of course, and by the time it became possible for us to adopt, we were just too old. It's a tragedy, really. We loved children and would have made good parents, I think, if people hadn't been so afraid.
But I couldn't so much as smile at a child without a police investigation. No, really. Happened a few times.
We'd had plenty of love to give, so we helped out where we could. Sometimes it was money, sometimes advice, sometimes we introduced them to people who could help. People like us were never going to be allowed into Heaven, so we tried to make Earth a better place.
We had a good, long life together. High school sweethearts and all that. We finally got married a year and a half ago, and the whole city showed up (even the press). We knew I had inoperable cancer, and that made everything just a little bit more beautiful. My pension and life insurance would make sure that he had enough to survive without me.
That bastard could have lived in a giant house, surrounded by hot and cold running servants until his last day. But he had some lawyer write up a business plan, donated the whole thing to a charity/scholarship fund (in my name), and now lives off of Medicaid in a crappy nursing home.
He still talks to me every day.
I wish I could talk to him. Turns out people like us are allowed in Heaven, after all. God gives us a dollar for every time a living person remembers us. I have a kingdom in Heaven, thanks to my husband, and I get to share it with him when he gets here.
There are lots of children's' souls here. We could start a family, like we'd never had the chance to do on Earth. I could be a dad, finally. | I turn on the lights. What possible reason could someone have to wake me up this late?
"Hello?" I ask. It was too dark out for me to see anyone.
"Good evening mister!"
"Good evening to you as well." It was a little boy. By his looks he must be one of the less fortunate kids to live in Heaven. Well, "live"...
"You're one of the richest people, right? May I please ask for some money? Me and the other kids have had it rough this week."
In Heaven, money wasn't worth much. I was... very popular during my life. But I was a devout Christian, and Jesus forgives everyone. That's kind of his thing. Realizing the horror I has brought to Earth, I couldn't bear the guilt and committed suicide. Of course, He also forgave me for that.
Back to the situation at hand, this child is well behaved. Everybody in Heaven is, but this one in particular is going around collecting money for his community of orphans. Plus, I have more than enough money to spare and greed is one of the seven deadly sins, so I might as well give him some of my fortune.
"Here. This will keep all of you going for at least a month. If you run out, don't hesitate to come back and ask for more, ok?"
"Wow! Thank you so much!"
"It's my pleasure, really. See you when I see you!"
Ok! Thanks mister Hitler!" | 2017-04-01T17:55:30 | 2017-04-01T17:46:09 | 140 | 70 |
[WP] Every spacefaring species has something that makes them special. Some are fast, some have telekinesis, some are nigh-unkillable. To the galaxy's surprise, humans have a tendency to befirend the cosmic horrors lurking where the starlight does not reach. | It had been some time since a species had disturbed my slumber. Cycles beyond their comprehension, as I lay resting in the comforting pull of the gravity around me. And yet, I could feel a change in the stars. Pyolia's my kind, the old guard, had evolved before stars burned and rock rose. Ancient. Curious. Powerful. As we continued, more species arose; some just like us, existing beyond lesser creatures understanding. Others, as time passed, more feeble and soft. The first of these races, R'goz as they called themselves, came upon us in their first flights from their celestial body. We had been watching them, curious as they continued to grow. We witnessed as they grew and evolved. But upon meeting our forms, they felt only fear. Upon feeling our minds as we spoke to them, they understood only horror. So, we left. And as we left they spread stories about us. Beings that they couldn't comprehend and they felt only terror upon meeting.
​
Collectively our race decided, that we would no longer take such a heavy handed approach. We would retreat to the places that they would fear to reach, observing them and the other star children as they grew into mighty empires and collapse. Soon some would stabilize. More would join. Traits among the races became obvious to notice. Pedanians were fast, but disliked the cramped cities of the empire. Gevari were long lived, for lesser species. We documented these traits and watched. Thusly we come to you.
​
You. Your kind. You share a key characteristic with our species. Your curiosity. Your inquisitive nature. Your thirst for knowledge. Before you had left your planets you wished to learn everything you could. Upon contact with other star children, you learned more but still were unsatisfied. And so, now you sit before me, asking for more. Desiring more. Demanding answers. And to that our kind has decided. We shall permit. We shall grant. We shall share. Send forth the most eager. The most hungry. The Most Desiring. For that is what this knowledge shall do. It shall feed your Desire and humanity will evolve.
​
{Been a hot minute since I've written anything, so feedback is appreciated!} | A parody
“Hello, I’m Cesar Milan, and I’m the Dog Whisperer, and today we’re going to a very special place! Today, we’re going to Galgon 5 to deal with a real problem. NASA has found vicious beasts that keep breaking their equipment and eating the astronauts.”
“Is he really going to narrate this whole time?” I thought to myself as I listened to him ramble on. Cesar comes up beside me to brief me on his plan. I pull up the pictures we have of the beasts. 5 meters tall, skin as thick as leather, and a venomous bite that paralyzes you in agonizing pain for three days and just stops. No easing of pain, just sometime on the third day, if just stops. It’s the scariest feeling in the goddamned universe. Anyway, the briefing.
“So what we’re going to do is display dominance over the creature. When we hit the ground, I’m going to show the creature that I am the alpha. First, I’m not going to acknowledge the animal. I’m going to let it sniff me if it wants, but I’m not going to acknowledge the animal. Then, I’m going to nip at the neck like this.”
He made a weird noise like ***tsk,tsk***.
He continued “ it’s all about showing the animal whose boss. When we land, I’m going to show these creatures who is the dominant alpha.”
The spacecraft came to a landing, and the bay door was lowered. Cesar walked confidently up to the first beast that was beginning to charge the shuttle.
“See. I am not acknowledging it. I am letting it know that I am the alpha, and they must acknowledge me.”
Famous last words. Those beasts tore into Cesar within seconds.
Edit: grammar | 2021-04-07T23:13:27 | 2021-04-07T21:11:22 | 106 | 11 |
[WP] As a hero's apprentice you knew that the training would be grueling, but you didn't expect the hero to be actively trying to kill you during your drills. After sixteen months of torturous training you've finally snapped and have decided to kill the hero however you can. | Part 1/2
American Son was one of the greatest heroes the world had ever known. A lone WWII soldier who was resurrected by the goddess Nike and granted incredible power, American Son had been saving the world for almost eighty years. He was a founding member of the People's Champions, an instructor at Truman Hero Prep, and the first human to win the intergalactic gladiatorial combat reality show called Deadlock. And for over a year, he'd been the man personally training me in the ways of heroing. He's also been the man trying to kill me for over a year.
It was small at first. A couple of instructor drones malfunctions here, a couple of live rounds sneaking into the training turrets there. But then it started getting a lot more brazen: he'd sneak up on me with a knife when I was sleeping, stopped pulling his punches in combat practice, and would deliberately not patrol with me when the really dangerous villains were on the prowl, all under the pretense of toughening me up. I didn't know why he did it (I suspected it was some kind of holdover of 1930s values, considering I was an openly gay Japanese-American girl), but I didn't care anymore. I just wanted the bastard dead.
I was watching American Son from the safety of the air vent, transformed into my *koropukkuru* form so I wouldn't trip the motion sensors. I didn't know the first thing about killing someone, but I knew better than to try something right out of the gate. I needed to study the man first. As I watched him eat his Sriracha sauce covered egg sandwich, I began to run through the possible ways I could--wait. Sriracha sauce?
I'd been training with American Son for long enough to know that the man hated spicy foods. And the more I thought about it, the less logic I saw in my reasoning. If American Son was trying to kill me, why would I try to kill him in retaliation? Shouldn't I have gone to the rest of the People's Champions for help? There was an explanation for what was going on, but I really hoped I was wrong.
I dropped out of the air vent and turned back into a human. American Son looked back at me as I entered the cafeteria and waved me over. "Daiyokai! Whatcha doing, lurking around?"
I shrugged. "Stealth practice. You always say training doesn't stop when you leave the classroom."
"Well, I'm always right."
"Yeah, you always say that too." I plopped down into the seat next to him. "So, Sriracha sauce? Thought you had the spice tolerance of a British grandpa."
American Son chuckled. "Yeah, well, just because you can't teach an old dog new tricks doesn't mean you can't get him to eat a new kind of treat. Hey, your shoulder doing okay?"
I gave my left arm a few rotations. "It was pretty stiff for a while, but I'm okay now."
"Good, good. I'm sorry about that, but hey, supervillains aren't the type to go easy on you, right? But uh, let's just keep it between the two of us, yeah?"
"Sure, sure. Just one question though: when you refer to the two of us, do you mean American Son and I, or you and me?"
American Son stopped eating. "Umm... there's only the two of us here."
"No no, there's three of us. Me, American Son, and you, Bloodletter."
"Um, Dai, I think we should take you to the--"
I interrupted by slapping an expulsion charm onto his wrist. Within seconds, American Son was writhing on the floor as a glowing red vapor exited his body. The vapor took on a more solid form as American Son collapsed to the ground unconscious. As the red vapor solidified into a man in an all-red bodysuit covered in lines like scars, he looked at me and scowled. "You, my friend, are far too smart for your own good." | — Look I already told you. He was a mean guy. He might’ve kept his true mind low and appear with a smile but when we were private and pressure came, he was not the type of person you want to get along with.
For starters, the training program was enough of a hassle. The machines were made for his levels of power, not ours. We were expecting to cause major damage n one go, but some people, like me, can’t do so. You see, I’m more of a tactical guy. Making blades in my arms is a totally different scale to exploding things with their fists.
And then, there was the aftermath. When we’d fail, and we would, he would punish us.. He called it a personal training. Torture it was. I still have the scars in my arms
— Do you have proof of those accusations? — The officer asked, trying not to feel anger for such an insult to his idol
— Is this not proof enough? — I raged pulling my sleeves. — Look at the bruises and burning scars! He made this on every single one of us. He’d always be the villain in the simulations and he would always beat us to smithereens. But yes, he was sure he would show us video tapes of our failure. Let me resume to the story.
After a year and a half of beating everyday, your mind is not the same. You want to stop, so you plan to stop. That’s what I did”
— And killing him was the best solution?— He retorted, with pure hatred towards me.
— Do you really think villains want to be villains? We just want the suffering to end at all costs and for justice to come. So we adapt and learn to do it our way.
I learned his patterns. Learned how petulant he was and hos imprudent he was because of it. When you’re number one hero it gets over your head I guess. He would always expect his plan to work, always be successful always get credit always right AlwaysPowerfulAlwaysRightNeverWrongTheGrastesOfAll —
— calm down sir -
— I AM CALM — I simply stated
I sighed
— and so I waited. Once one of his training routines was almost done. Once he was laughing and calling us names again. Once I was the last one standing, Once I was the only one remaining to beat and finally have the superiority once again to be the biggest hero with the widest gap OverTheNextGenerations”
Another sigh
— Then I cut his throat. *Swoop*. You had to look at his face. So surprised and vulnerable. So powerful and yet with such a WEAK death.” I laughed, finally free. “he tried to explode my face but he trained me too well. I was good enough to dodge and cut his arms. My powers evolved too, you know..
— and then? — The officer said almost jumping into me
— and then what? The story’s over. No villain speech, no hero chance to argue. Just a loser spanking me and me retrieving the favor
— Sir, I want to help you. — he lied — would you please describe what happened next?
— I stabbed him a couple more times — I sipped before I could notice. My eyes popped — GET OUT OFF MY MIND — I yelled at the glass, betrayed. truth inducing power could only come from her
— we got everythimg I needed — he went up to the door. — I’ll se you in court when you get punished for killing my husband. | 2022-10-27T18:20:59 | 2022-10-27T15:05:42 | 108 | 23 |
[WP] You are a 100 year old lady living alone, your neighbor offered to buy your house and let you live in it rent free. Its been 10 years now, he doesn't know you are immortal and he is getting very inpatient! | Dear neighbor,
​
You probably wonder where I have been the last few days, and I am sure this letter will break your heart, but it is time to say goodbye.
​
The last months have been a blast, but all good things come to an end and I had to move.
My old body simply can't keep up with yours, but I will never forget what you have done for me. I would never have guessed someone your age would be able to teach me how to live, but every single experience with you has been unique.
The Shooting Range and Cave Diving honestly where a bit too much for me, but believe me, you did nothing wrong.
I knew I had a real friend after the freak skydiving accident, the doctors told me how often you asked about my wellbeing, and you can't imagine how long it has been since I last felt like somebody would care for me.
Unfortunately, I can't allow any personal attachment. It's not you, it's all my fault. I just can't live to see another friend of mine die. It happened to often before and I prefer to stay alone.
I will always remember our dinner with the sharks, and I hope you will do the same.You sure are the craziest rollercoaster enthusiast I have ever met, when ever I see an amusement park it will remind me of you.
I miss you already, whenever I turn around a corner I expect you to jump on me to scare me, but nobody is there. Yet it is for the best if you don't come looking for me. I leave you the house as I promised, just a little earlier. You will find the keys under the door mat. Please care for my motorcycle, I will care for our Bull Terrier Rocky.
Thank you,
Margharete
PS: I can't believe I had never even tried puffer fish, and your cooking sure is a hidden talent of yours. Keep up the good work, one day you will get rid of the bitter taste. | 2/3/2015
Today I turned 100! Today my neighbor wished me a happy birthday, but soon offered to buy my house and let me live in it for free. Truth be told I don’t need him to do that I have enough money to survive off of, but I accepted his offer because he kept asking.
2/3/2025
It has been 10 years since my neighbor bought my house and he has gotten less welcoming to me. He keeps trying to push me down the stairs. He doesn’t know I know it’s him. He tried to poison me as well, but he got me to the hospital too fast. I can feel that he’s getting very impatient and that soon he will do something drastic.
5 days later.
My family have left my house from visiting for my birthday. I have a feeling tonight is the night something will go wrong, so I won’t be going to bed early like usual.
2 hours later.
I heard a crash almost like someone broke my window. I get my bat and phone for a flashlight. I then start walking around the house to see who broke in, but someone jumps down from behind me and stabs me. I grab my phone and make sure to take a bunch of pictures. Luckily he doesn’t see and breaks my phone. When he left, I called the police and an ambulance. The police searched my phone and were able to see that it was my neighbor. He went to jail and I got my property back, but now it’s time to become young again. | 2021-08-31T04:45:50 | 2021-08-30T23:18:33 | 28 | 16 |
[WP] "I'll tell you what, kid," says Death. "I actually like you, and to be fair, you've got a pretty good reason to keep living. So if you settle one of my old gambling debts, kill the last person to trick me out of death, his immortality is yours. Fair warning though, he spent his time wisely..." | So, tell me about him.
‘Well’ death sat down on a chair that had magically appeared, a horrific skull bound recliner ‘he was a bastard... a real monster. Slaughtered millions... then he fell in battle... when he bested me, I KNEW he had cheated, but couldn’t prove it.’
Death stretched out and continued.
‘You see immortality means more than living forever, you develop... powers. You become more in tune with the planet. And develop what you call magic,
He’s had a long time to do this, he used it for nefarious means, surviving whenever a regime finally was overthrown. Then he disappeared instead preferring to lay in wait and hone his magic... it’s a front. He’s just getting stronger, biding his time you see’
A drinks trolley appeared being pushed by a gnarled little demon. Who then made some cocktail and handed it to the grim reaper.
‘Ah, that’s the one... where was I?’ Death spoke after sipping his smokey concoction. ‘Ah yes... he disappeared and became, different... but he’s still an evil man. You’ll need to be at your best, you see he’s a trained warrior and now a trained magician. He won’t be easy to kill, you sure you want to do this kid?’
The boy looked up, grim determination in his eyes, he simply said
‘Yes’
He got up to leave, as he reached the door he turned and looked at death now sitting drinking. Cocktails On a Recliner watching a tv made of skulls.
‘I forgot to ask, what is his name?’
Death stopped watching the tv and turned his head slowly.
‘He was many names, ghengis Khan, Alexander the Great, julius Cesar.’
‘No... what is his name now.’
‘Oh... yes’ death smiled.
‘Kris Kringle, st Nicholas... I need you to kill Santa Claus kid...’
| I’m chaning he to she. Why? You’ll know why.
——————————————————————
That’s why I’m back.
For that extra bit of immortality.
I mean look at the deal! One life for another? That’s basically like a regular return policy.
Now... I do have to kill someone with immortality. *She* apperantly has had more than enough time to prepare. I have a couple of weeks at most. Frankly speaking, it isn’t fair but life isn’t fair right?
It’s ok though... surprise is a killer advantage. I can make a plan as well. *She* has no idea that I am the one who is going to try and kill *her*. I can plan the when and where. I need a bit of help though but it isn’t that hard to find some thanks to the internet. I can even be discreet.
***One meme***
That’s all it took. I got a team set up now. It’s all even disguised as one big joke! Fuck maybe it’ll even make meme of the month... I doubt it though. I have other plans anyways.
By this time on January 5th, *she’ll* be dead. I have already been practicing my british accent. I have people in the guard. Hell even the MI6 has some corrupt officials.
Why am I telling *you* this?
I like to brag. Maybe I can still use a little help. Maybe it’s all a joke. Can you tell which is which?
***LONG LIVE THE QUEEN***
——————————————————————
r/me_irl for necessary background bois | 2019-01-03T18:54:18 | 2019-01-03T18:35:51 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] The manned mission to Mars went off without a hitch. The transmissions came back right on schedule: "Touchdown successful." "Habitat functional." "Life-support optimal." Then nothing for 48 hours. Then one last transmission: "We were wrong. Planet inhabited. Do not send rescue."
| Over the course of the last two days, the tone had changed dramatically at mission control. My eyes burned as I closed them, sucking down another lukewarm coffee. My stomach ached and I wondered if it was the stress, or the Chinese takeout. Probably both.
I stared at the communications log once again "Touchdown successful." "Habitat functional." "Life-support optimal." and I remembered how I pumped my fists when they first arrived.
That was two days ago.
By now, most of the team had left. Sandy ordered everyone to go get some rest until a proper plan could be formed, and though most people promised not to go until we heard something, they slowly petered out until only a skeleton crew remained.
The console updated every 30 seconds, and as I slumped into my chair, I noticed the buffering animation took a little longer than usual. Then it appeared.
“Jesus Christ!” It was only a mumble, but Jules must have heard it. He leaned back from his monitor and turned to me.
“Jesus, fuck.” I couldn’t be sure it was real. “Is this some sort of joke, Jules?”
“What is it?” he stood up and looked over my shoulder. “Somebody call Sandy.”
“It’s just us, Jay.”
“Well get on the fucking phone for Christ’s sake.”
I found her number, hit call, then put it on speaker. The ringing seemed to go on forever.
Then she picked up.
“Have they made contact?” Sandy’s voice came through, assertive and clear as always. She wasn’t sleeping.
“Yes ma’am.” Jules replied over my shoulder. “It’s not good.” He put his hand my shoulder. It was no comfort. “Read it out”.
“Ma’am, the response reads: We were wrong. Planet inhabited. Do not send rescue."
Silence. I looked up at Jules for reassurance, but his face was stony.
“I’m on my way.” | Red flashing lights and the sound of the allarm sirens echoes in the suffocating corridors of the Habitat Alpha-03. In the shadows an intestineless body blocks my path.
"You are going to make it, you can do this, I know you can"
Splatted blood trickling on the floor.
I gently move the corpse, that falls loudly at my feet.
"Damn John, I told you that you shouldn't have taken that *thing* inside the habitat."
Nasty, screeching noises form afar.
The communication center was closer every step. The allarm stopped suddenly, and the flickering lights of the tunnels went on once again.
A neon sign **Communication Center**
"I did it!"
The happiness quickly turned into fear.
Steps.
Not mine.
Not human.
A cabinet became the only barrier between me and the corridor.
The computer was still working.
"Wonderful"
My hands surf on the keyboard. Something is banging his head (I think) against the metallic door.
> We were wrong. Planet inhabited. Do not send rescue.
Another door was present in the room, of course. I wouldn't have come here in the first place if I wasn't sure of that. From there, the shuttle bay was barely two hundred meters away.
"You can do this, that door is going to last enough"
I take a step in the silent hallway, hoping to make it to the hangar. | 2019-01-31T06:24:03 | 2019-01-31T05:21:38 | 134 | 53 |
[WP] You are God. You just logged on to one of your old saves, and you’re confused as to where those massive lizards went and where all these pink fuckers came from. | **| Anyone remember the old Adapt! Series? Amazing new glitch found?? |**
 
[EDIT]:
I didn't expect this to get so much attention, even from non-Adapt! players! For some clarity for non-players, let me elaborate on the Adapt! series.
The Adapt! series was a game for old 'QuantGame' systems that came out about 20 years ago, which used one of those old Quantum reality systems to generate some basic facsimile of the universe, then populate one of the planets in the universe with creatures generated using some basic 'Evolve' nonsense algorithm.
You could then 'adapt' these creatures with attributes to allow them to survive and min-max their population, deadliness, survivability, etc. Kids back then would usually pick a few favorites and then "duel" their creatures with other kids creatures. I know it sounds super dumb now but it used to be real popular when these Quantum systems were all the rage.
[EDIT 2]:
I've been asked to elaborate on what I mean by QPE/"Quantum Point Errors", well the old QuantGame systems and the such were pretty basic when it came to their calculation accuracies, only to a few trillion points of accuracy, which meant sometimes in the earlier games, the generation would sometimes bodge a few checks, like a "volcano" too big, or gravitation errors, you get the idea.
This often ended in save game wiping as these "freak" events would change the world's environment to kill all your creatures in under 1000 generations, and as the limitation of the memory at the time, the simulation had to constantly be run, if only in miniscule timescale. It sucked but hey that was the technology at the time.
Ok, back onto the original post:
[POST]:
Guys!! You'd not believe the creatures my Adapt! 2 Save!!
Ok, some quick background. My brother and I were drinking the other night and reminiscing about the games of our childhood, and the this game series cropped up as one of favorites. He actually had his system on hand, and so showed me his current save, which was some odd spore-like creature, and SWORE to me that his save could beat mine, and obviously I'd be doing a disservice to my childhood toils if I didn't defend myself, which led to us digging out my old handhold in his attic.
So I've not touched this thing in YEARS, and pulling it out and seeing the "SAVE GAME QUANTUM POINT WARNING" flash on the save was upsetting, considering the hours I've put into my save, but hell, I thought I'd give it a look anyway, I've never seen the world-view from after a QPE.
Looking at the overworld status, I kinda saw something out of place, the species count was at 8.7 million, which I'm fairly sure (Please tell me if I'm wrong!) has never happened after a major QPE. So obviously I'm curious, the hulking bipedal creatures I had made were fairly good contenders and I had to see if they by some miracle had survived. I go look at the active species list and ALL my favorites had died ;-; , however the other creatures had been automatically been evolving using the game's base algorithm, and they're crazy! A lot of them are flat out weird statistically, but one really caught my eye and WOW I've never seen anything like it!
The game has dubbed them "Humans" and they're these small, 5'11 bipeds with 2 decent mandibles. Physically, they're kinda pathetic, I can't believe THIS was now the most dominant species, never mind at a population of 8 BILLION. (I swear I must have caught them before they start dying off because there's no fucking way you can have 8 BILLION creatures at that size without destroying your own planet, right??)
So I'm even more perplexed, and I decide to switch to the world-view and you really have to see this to believe it. (There's hopefully some screenshots attached to this post) There these huge complexes I can only assume the Human colonies have produced, like giant hives all over the planet, so this is clearly weird, and I zoom in on one of the Humans, and they're using a metallic prong of sorts to consume something? I'm not sure what's happening here but I don't think I've ever heard of a creature using tools?
Anyway, that's all for now, me and my brother are still looking it over (I've attached a save game below for you guys to see), if anyone could tell me if they've ever seen anything like this, please tell me! | It had been so long, I couldn’t even remember the name of the save file. There were a few experiments that could be interesting to revisit but I had a particular one in mind. After sifting through a series of unsuccessful saves filled with barren mountains and drowned continents, I stumbled upon it.
When I had left, life had seemed to reach its natural end. I had become bored and nuked the planet. All that hard work, crafting and nudging, pushing and priming, just to destroy it all after a long day. It had been satisfying watching everything crumble. I set the timer to continue in my absence, and then left it. That was millions of years ago.
A dark shadow of a planet rotated on my screen, as I had left it. A prompt appeared asking if I wanted to watch a recap or skip to the present. *Surprise me,* I clicked confidently. Lights blossomed on my screen. The once dark shadow was luminous. A few areas remained dark. I rolled over the planet and a window popped up giving me a brief overview. Mostly sedimentary rock, large bodies of fresh and saltwater, much less vegetation than I had expected, volcanoes, earthquake lines, all the good stuff. I picked as good a continent to zoom in on as any and double clicked. The lights seemed concentrated on what looked to be coastlines. They also seemed to be random, or at least not in an order I could place. I chose the West coast, as it had slightly less light patterns to decipher than the East. Maybe I could make sense of this.
As the program moved forwards, I realized that the landscape had been modified outside of my programing. Forests weren’t where they should have been, wetlands weren’t showing the usual stats. I hadn’t waited to see the affects of my tantrum, but I knew it couldn’t have ruined the program so entirely. Just a tsunami or so, I’d figured. This was beyond that. Swaths of land were gridded in a pattern I’d purposefully coded against. Why would I want mono-cultures of plants in slabs? I winced at the aesthetics. Maybe a code issue after all. The program could have just repeated the same crop over and over, glitched out. Even still, I’d have expected to see more variety.
As I got closer, it got worse. There were pockets of heat flaring up on my sensors. The UI could barely give me the detail needed to see where the heat was coming from or to isolate it. I could see, however, just at a glance, that it was related to these tall spires. I pulled the angle down so I could see the side of the spires. They seemed to be a heat-trapping compound, similar to when water seeped into the sediment granules and oxidized. This, again, was too uniform. I pulled back out, turned the light UI off, and focused on the heat. The whole planet was off. The oceans were much warmer than they should have been, dead-zones where I would have expected to see life indicators. In fact, the whole thing seemed off. Perhaps the lights themselves were glitches and had spurred all of this.
I sighed in frustration. I had hoped coming back to this save that something interesting and unique had manifested. Instead, it seemed order had prevailed. My randomization meter must have fluxed with the tantrum. I felt tricked. At first the lights seemed to be random, interesting. But on further inspection, and additional overlays, they correlated with life and heat indicators. Just a frustrating glitch manifesting.
I opened the task manager.
*Delete Save File?*
I hesitated. Sure this experiment had been disappointing to say the least. But maybe if I took a look at the code and removed the glitch, it could be salvaged. Not today, in any case. But one day.
*Save Game*
I clicked, and closed, knowing that the planet would be waiting if I ever decided to come back. Maybe I would. It could do with a little chaos.
---
I know I'm a little late to the game, but I thought I would submit anyway! Thanks for the interesting prompt :) | 2017-12-12T21:52:14 | 2017-12-12T21:01:27 | 75 | 16 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | "The motorcade is travelling towards you. Mehmedbašić, roll for initiative."
"4."
"The car drives past before you have a chance to act."
"God damnit."
"Don't worry guys, this is why we have backup in place."
"Čubrilović, it's your turn."
"I get... 2. Shit."
"You also fail to do anything before the Archduke's car rolls past. Čabrinović?"
"I get... 14! Ha! I throw my bomb at the Archduke's car."
"The bomb sails through the air. Roll to see if you're successful."
"8, what happens?"
"The bomb bounces off the convertible cover on the back of the car, and explodes beneath the trailing vehicle. The Archduke's car speeds off and you see the guards converging to arrest you."
"I don't want to give my party up, they still have to finish the mission. I take my cyanide pill and jump in the river to commit suicide."
"Roll."
"Roll? For suicide?"
"Yes. You're being chased by guards. You don't need to get anything good".
"Ok. It's a... It's a 1."
" Oh wow, that's really bad. Ok, you fail to die, and are beaten by the surrounding civilians before being captured by the guards and taken into custody. The bomb also caused the driver to speed away, driving past the rest of you before you have time to act, and Franz Ferdinand has reached his destination to give his speech. Princip, it's your turn."
"Fuck this, this isn't going to work, the dice are against us. I go for a drink."
"Oh, come on man, don't be like that."
"Nope, screw it, you guys can carry on if you want, I go to get a coffee and enjoy the rest of my freedom before Čabrinović gives us all up. Do I need to roll to see if I successfully drink my coffee?"
"Sure, if you want."
"Fine. I get... a 20. How the hell did that happen?"
"Really? You wasted a 20 on successfully drinking coffee? Come on GM, what happens?"
"Alright then, so you go to get a coffee, but as Archduke Franz Ferdinand is leaving his speech, his driver takes a wrong turn, and his car is now parked directly in front of you undefended."
"I shoot the Archduke! I get a 16."
"You hit and kill the Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife. You succeed in your mission, and inadvertently start World War One. Good game, well played." | "Merry Christmas!"
George flipped through his character sheet a few times as the DM handed out gifts.
"Now, we don't have long for today's session, do you guys think we should just hand out gifts and get back to-"
George flicked his gaze across his party, a grin settling on his face. "Say, it's also Christmas in game, right?"
"...Yes?" The Dm asked.
"George, no," Thomas said, straightening up. Half of a box of chocolates was already in his mouth.
"And that means that our enemies are also celebrating Christmas, yes?" George said, plucking up the dice.
"George, no, I have a family to get back to, I can't spend the entire day rolling dice on a surprise attack," Thomas whined.
The Dm took a long drawn out sigh. "Look, it's raining, and there's a river in your way. Open your present and leave, George."
George looked over the other two sitting at the table. "No, I am sick and tired of morale being low and getting our asses kicked by the empire!"
"Maaaaaayyyybbbeeee," The Dm drawled. "You shouldn't've taken a swing at the greatest empire in the world? I had a fantastic story set to the side about the natives."
"No, he's right," John said.
"John why are you betraying me like this?" The Dm asked, mournfully.
"I'm a spy," John explained. "And that means..." John slapped the dice on the table.
The Dm stared down at the events with rising horror. "It means you know that they bought your story, hook line and sinker... and don't think you'll attack Trenton."
George stood up, downed the rest of his coffee, and posed, pointing at the DM. "Then there's only one thing left to do! Let's CROSS THE DELAWARE!"
A long, defeated sigh from the DM. "...roll the dice."
-----
https://www.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/ for more like this. | 2018-05-29T06:42:10 | 2018-05-29T06:10:01 | 4,675 | 774 |
[WP] "We can accept god becoming man to save man, but not man becoming god to save himself" | I watched Andrew pushing through the others. My brother's side was winning. I wanted to congratulate him as he went down across the goal line but I knew better. The last time we had met he was on his knees begging for mercy. I had walked up to him trying to tell him that he would never need to ask for such a thing from me. I would give it freely. But he never saw me. He saw the god. He felt the glory of a being that could crush him with a thought and could walk over him without feeling a prick.
I turned to my daughter, fifteen years old. When she first saw me she screamed. She went behind her mother who huddled down eyes shut. Then I called out.
"Marina, Marina, it's me. Your husband."
"You're not my husband." she squeaked out. She was trembling hard, I saw a tear roll down her cheek. A tear of fright. Then I knew, I knew I was no longer viewed as one of them.
I stood up, my head sweeping the clouds and began to rise, higher and higher until I was beyond, their view, beyond their revolt, beyond contact. I wish they'd understood what I did, what it took to become this.
First I had to create the myth, the myth of Ugansel the deity who towered a mile high and could shoot fire from his eyes. How he was burned alive as a man for a crime he never committed and never received the final sacrament and so was condemned to hell.
Then I created the rumors, that Ugansel roamed the streets every night hunting for his killers. I sprayed city walls with sulphur before setting it ablaze. I left wet phosphorous in gardens as morning broke so that as people started their day they would see fires appearing out of nowhere. People started to believe. The fear became belief and they would leave tokens outside their doorsteps to sate the demon.
Finally, I became the myth. The pain of a thousand lashes on my back cannot be forgotten, even in this form. How I paid for people to create rumors I was practicing witchcraft when in reality it was hard science. They took me from my house baying for my blood. They beat me in the streets before burning me to a crisp.
Then I became a god. I rose through the air and felt the cosmic energy surge through me. I breathed fire into space, to the asteroid I had seen hurtling towards earth with my telescope. No one had seen it except me. No one else believed in the science except a few. For that I was buried in an unmarked grave not in the church graveyards the other eminents received.
I don't know what is wrong with our race. We can accept god becoming man to save man but not man becoming god to save himself and his people. My friends refuse to believe I am who I say I am. So I view from afar paying a bit more attention when they start talking about Galileo Galilei.
***
/r/pagefighter | The pope's words echoed across the cathedral. Murmurs arose amongst the cardinals, as various religious leaders shook their heads in agreement.
"We cannot forgo our mortal flesh, most of all to save ourselves. God put us here on this earth for a reason, and he even walked amongst us to save our souls - but we cannot allow ourselves to transcend that which we were given."
"Why?"
A lone man had his hand up, looking at everyone in confusion. "Why can't we?"
The pope glared at him. "Because it is unnatural. Heretic. Death does not exist in the Singularity, so by entering it we will be denied our deserved entrance into the Kingdom of Heaven."
The man seemed unconvinced. "I know the text about gays and stuff is a little unclear, but I'm pretty sure I never saw anything denouncing the Singularity."
The pope frowned. He was not used to being challenged.
"The meteor is God's plan, son. It will cleanse the lands of the non-believers, of the damned-"
"Whoa now, slow down there. It's God's plan? Why is *that* God's plan, rather than all of us chilling in utopia in the Singularity? Honestly, I wasn't ever really sold on the whole 'life after death, heaven for eternity' bit, but the Singularity pretty much *guarantees* that."
Everyone began looking at each other, and the pope found himself losing the room.
"All I'm saying is, faced with certain utopia, or certain death and possibly-maybe utopia, I'll pick certain utopia 9 times out of 10."
He got up, walking towards the massive doors.
"At some point, you gotta decide where your allegiance lays," he said, as he pushed open the doors. Bright light illuminated the cathedral.
He shrugged. "I guess I worship science now."
The massive doors shut, and the light was snuffed out. The murmuring began anew.
"*Who was that guy?*" the pope whispered to his most trusted advisor, as the bishops and cardinals rose from their chairs.
"I don't know," his advisor said, methodically taking off his robe and galero, as others did the same, "but I hope he has space in his car."
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my new subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | 2016-11-24T06:53:07 | 2016-11-24T06:13:55 | 688 | 169 |
[WP] Everyone wakes up with a number and a RPG-esque classification (e.g., Thief, Warrior, Cleric, etc.) tattooed on their dominant arm | The first day, every RPG fan nearly went insane. By a week, everyone had begun to get over it and we'd even figured out the number was our level. I'd always been a huge fan of RPGs, so it was quite a pleasant surprise to wake up to. My two of my closest friends were a level 6 rogue and a level 9 paladin, which was pretty cool, and my girlfriend is a level 12 cryomancer. I'm pretty proud of that actually, since most chicks I've seen are healers or archers. I've seen a few rare classes here and there, too; druids, assassins, summoners, and other things that are pretty common in games but not in real life, I suppose. Heck, my mom is a healer and my dad's a brawler. But my class, well, I don't know what to make of it. When I woke up, I was a level 3 Hero.
As you can imagine, it's made life a little complicated for me. To avoid getting swarmed by rabid lunatics, I hide my left arm under a splint and fake a broken arm. It's not too hard to get away with, since everyone assumes I'm something uninteresting. Heck, a guy accused me of being an NPC and that I was hiding it from shame. Of course, he turned out to be labelled NPC, which made it even funnier.
I told my girlfriend and she doesn't know what to think of it. I mean, obviously she thinks its cool, but she doesn't know what it means. Considering Hero isn't a typical class, you can't exactly research it. And no one else seems to have it, so when we do try to get help we're accused of lying. No big deal really, since it hasn't affected my life too much.
The only thing that's bugging me about it is my best friend. He managed to get a unique class too. We've checked online to see if anyone else has it, and he goes through the same crap. We don't really worry about it, since life seems to generally be the same, but it makes me nervous to look at it. After all, he's the only guy with the word Overlord on his arm. | I thought it would be just another morning,
but then it went crazy with minimal warning.
An itch, a scratch... something on my wrist
I gave it a glance and made a slight twist.
Upon my skin I found an etched number
Immediately I emerged from my slumber.
Was this a sign, a message from heaven?
In bright cerulean the number eleven.
Along with a sword crossed with a sheath
Something was scrawled down underneath
"Warrior" tattooed in the very same blue
Somehow I knew just what to do...
I jumped straight up and ran down the hall
Nearly slipped on the rug and took a great fall
Standing before me just up ahead
Stood my wife who beat me out of bed.
Emblazoned upon her with fiery hate,
Branded in scarlet, burned a number eight.
I found myself reeling, feeling great danger
For on her arm was also printed "Ranger".
I ducked and I darted and quickly departed
For shortly thereafter her assault had started.
Were those knives wizzing past or perhaps a fork?
Somehow I felt like the world biggest dork...
I heard her grunts and call, her voice in delight.
Not wanting to be on the bad end of a 'kite',
I tumbled and rolled and fell down the stairs
And with no luck was surrounded by pairs.
Two sets of kids, and no where to run
Why did the red team have all the fun?
Two healers, a mage, and a rogue of some kind
Hopefully the last of them would not leave me blind.
I heard her steps slowly descending
I feared this might be how it was ending.
This is what I get for playing too much Skyrim | 2015-07-13T18:22:30 | 2015-07-13T16:47:26 | 76 | 26 |
[WP] We were warned when we hired our first human crew member that they would pack bond with almost anything. We didn't listen, and now have an apex predator somewhere in the ship, that the human won't stop calling Kitty. | A deep, primal roar echoed through the hull of the ship, muffled by the doors of the mess hall. It was there the crew of the Leviathan huddled. Roughly 50 of the galaxy's best hunters, trappers and bounty hunters stood,every species and race imaginable, quivering like frightened mice in a trap.
At approximately 2300 hours we recieved a distress transmission about a hostile creature terrorizing the Nionkiia sector; a peaceful but deadly planet colony of semi-primitive hunter-gatherers. Reports of a sentient, feline-esque creature hunting Nionkiian livestock for sport. Our mission was to capture the beast and bring it to Neptune Animal Containment, for research into the newly discovered predator.
We had no idea what we were up against. It proved to be a formidable opponent, dodging our traps, outrunning even our best hunters with ease.
And now it was on our ship.
Thankfully, our crew was evacuated to the mess hall before the creature could cause any fatalities. All but one human female, a diminutive creature that was sent by NAC due to human's innate ability to bond with even the most repulsive creatures in the galaxy.
But not even the human could tame this animal, if the angry yowling of the beast was any indication.
Thankfully, humans were replaceable, cheap labor. Another would be begging to travel the galaxy in a week's time.
The ceiling creaked above us as the creature moved across the communications deck, through the Containment Areas and finally down to our level.
Tension lay thick in the air. The crew murmured with terror, prayers to various higher powers and the occasional muffled sigh of acceptance.
A soft beeping of a keycard opening the locked mess hall doors reverberated around the room.
In stepped the human, smiling brightly with her prize, the beast stood before us, with a bedsheet wrapped around it's neck. A.. collar?
Beaming with pride, the human made a sweeping gesture to the hellish creature.
"I've found us a mascot! Crew of the Leviathan, meet Kitty!" | [PI] "It has claws, Dor-ek. *Claws* " Echek exclaimed in horror. Their sensory appendages, reminecent of the eyes of the Earth species called snails, shivered in aggitation.
Dor-ek, of a world where body language was the prime mode of communication, making verbal communication almost obselete, tries not to let his right for-ear hitch up the millimeters too show his affront at the claws comment. The females of his species have elaborate and beautiful calcium claws to better retrieve fallen young among the rocky landscape.
Before he can verbalize a response, which he's loath to do, the human, Mary, rounds the corner holding the creature in question. Unconsciously, Dor-ek's spinal ridges deepen to Violet from a calm sandy. There is a fearsom beast on a planet near his that makes the terrifying *purring* sounds before it erupts with poison as this "cat" now emits. Does Mary not realize the danger they're all in? He asks her with a series of flutters and shivers between his low frequency ear pod coverings and outer eyelids.
Mary, always intelligent for the deceptively vulnerable looking humans, reads him almost as well as his own kind. The woman had the audacity to laugh. "Oh, no. Fluffy is actually just very happy. He likes Echek's pharomones."
Echek blinks rapidly in fear. Dor-ek guesses he will request reassignment as soon as possible at the next port. | 2019-11-21T08:55:59 | 2019-11-21T08:22:03 | 37 | 21 |
[WP] All the alien species in the intergalactic council excelled in one way or another to climb through survival of the fittest. So why are humans, a species with average physique, so hard to deal with? And what the hell is persistence hunting. | Day 32
&#x200B;
It's been 32 cycles. 32 whole cycles, and still the chase continues. We won't last any longer. Half the squad has given up and surrendered, while the other half has been gradually picked out and killed. Commander Ydrevous has ordered me, Captain Xsimoth, to write our final words and warnings. Fellow brethren, and all other alien species that may receive this message, this is our warning. Do not invade the Sol System.
&#x200B;
When we first encountered the humans, it was the opinion of the Galactic Council to classify them as a subservient species. No one could fathom why the humans, with their weak, fragile bodies, could become the prime species on their planet. They lacked shells, tails, claws, anything that would give them an advantage in a fight. But there is a reason why they have risen to the heights they are at now.
&#x200B;
Humans may not have weapons for body parts, but they have one thing more than every other species. That trait is their persistence. Long ago, before humans achieved the technological progress they have today, their hunters would spend weeks chasing down prey. It is this trait that we are warning the galaxy against.
&#x200B;
Persistence hunting. That's what they call it. Every day, they would come at us, attacking from within their concrete and natural jungles. Every attack would cost them multiple casualties, while we lost very few. But the attacks never stopped. Every hour, every minute, there was a possibility of soldiers emerging from every direction, attacks from every angle, traps at every corner. They never gave up, no matter how many losses we inflicted on them, no matter the weapons we pulverized them with. They just kept coming, and coming, and coming.
&#x200B;
And the effect it had on us was terrible. Our men grew discouraged. Many fell ill with stress, unable to withstand the constant pressure. Every attack, every foray had a chance of us losing a brother-in-arm. Eventually our soldiers became tired, weighed down by the effect such unrelenting foes. How could we beat such demons, they told each other, when nothing we do seems to deter or slow them down?
&#x200B;
That is the power of the humans. Not their physical strength, nor their technological or cultural advances, but rather their mental attitude in resisting colonization. Their unrelenting march towards eradicating us. Their persistence, never witnessed before by the galactic community.
&#x200B;
Tomorrow, we will attempt a last foray towards our last known spaceship. If we fail, or we find that it too has been destroyed, then we shall lay down our arms and send each other to the Beyond. Let our bodies, laid out on the rocky soil of Earth, serve as a warning to all species in the Galactic Council.
&#x200B;
Do not offend the humans.
====================================================
&#x200B;
Check out r/17Stories for more of my work! | The arena itself was over a thousand miles square. It was the largest arena in the western Zyraxian realm. It was built to hold the universe’s most exotic species. The floating platform had within tens of thousands of rooms with thousands of species managed and researched. The floor of the arena itself was made of a special material which could transfer into and mimic virtually any environment imaginable.
It could mimic the great iron oceans in which the Threads of San’thras, the sea serpents from that planet, would battle and consume whole legions of Zyraxian prisoners of war. There was the beasts of Bode’s gate, with their galactically famous eighty-seven rows of teeth and claws which can tear through even the toughest Zyraxian armor.
The Zyrax empire selected citizens at a young age to be an arena keeper. Curating the events, taking care of the species, completing the research. The Zyrax empire was at their zenith. Extravagance like this would not last and, in many ways, would eventually lead to their downfall.
Zan’Tharr the Third Light, considered to be one of the greatest of their emperors, who brought in the era of Thyrinian Peace while also building the galactic wall of Junisar along the Butterfly nebula, was the emperor to lay the ground works for the arena. Three hundred years later and the public works project was completed in the reign of his son, Zynar the Fourth Light.
The arena was seen within the empire as a display of their greatness, their manifest destiny within the universe. At this current point in time, the borders of the Zyraxian empire was expanding at almost a parsec across every Zyraxian year.
Some of the wealthy and elite Zyraxian would actually participate in the arena—that is, of course, when they knew the distinct advantage was on their side. It was seen as a great honor and a way to spotlight yourself in front the emperor and his cohort. There had been many ambitious Zyraxian who made their social climb this way.
And of course, there were prisoners within the empire, those who were convicted of high crimes, that would be sent within the arena to fight against the never-ending flood of species the Empire pulled into their chambers.
Today there was a great crowd for a particularly special species was brought. A curiously small… yet surprising hardy and tough species. The word had passed along from Zyraxian to Zyraxian that this would be a special event. That there was a species on the outer fringe of the Zyrax empire which warranted special attention.
“Bring out the humans!” the council leader called.
*Part II Below* | 2021-02-04T09:02:10 | 2021-02-04T08:53:25 | 846 | 406 |
[WP] You are a passive aggressive time traveler, who tries to make people feel bad for things that haven't even happened yet. | Well bugger me! After nearly 25 years of careful planning and saving up an obscene amount of money, plus not to mention getting involved with some downright nefarious characters, I was finally here! It hadn't been easy but nothing worth having or doing ever is, and there is still so much to be done.
"Good morning class. My name is Mr Randle."
Gazing out across the sea of expectant faces, I tried to find myself. No not in a self-reflecting philosophical bullshit kind of way, I mean actually find myself. This is definitely where it all began, in this very classroom. And low and behold, there I am. Small for my age, with my eyes down turned. You won't find any friends in this classroom kid, but I will save you.
"I am your new Mathematics teacher, and will be taking this class all the way up to your GCSEs."
This is so fucking surreal! To be back here in this very room surround by those that will eventually take and destroy everything that I once held dear; I am going to make you little shits pay so very dearly. I am going to break you down bit by bit, and save my former self from the pure hatred and defilement that you will bring upon him.
"Did I say you could talk Mark? No? Then shut up you prepubescent little stain!"
Aha that got their attention, that set the pace. Now to play the long con. What better way to save myself then by giving my future oppressors a teacher they will all learn to hate more. I will unify the rats, allowing younger me to follow suit and blend right in. This is your ticket kid, this is your freedom. It has and always will be for you, and for your future.
Cracking my neck, I gazed once more around the class. Are you ready to hate me one last time?
| "Could you pass da ketchup?" Harold waved his chubby fingers in Katyn's direction, throwing up a small wave of granulated salt with the gesture.
"Oh, I could." Katyn glared at him, "I could pass you this ketchup in the bottle that will never decompose, and feed you more pure sugar until the whole world is in diabetic shock. I could even *drive to the store* in a car that is now causing a future flood that will drown entire countries, kill millions of people and crush all of civilization into a cataclysm of greed and war."
Harold blankly stared at her while he kept chewing.
"Seriously." Katyn throws up her exo-skeleton'd hands, "I appear to you from the future with a message of warning an you want me to pass you a condiment?"
Harold shrugs and stares at his box of fries, then over at the red plastic bottle that is less than two feet away from him, "Enng, I'll do without I guess."
Katyn stares as he grabs another handful of potato strips and shoves them between his teeth.
"You know what." Katyn shakes her head, "Forget it. Forget all of it. You're not worth it."
With a flash of terrible light Katyn vanished.
"That was kinda cool." Harold spat out half a fry as he spoke, "I shoulda got a selfie with her." | 2015-06-09T12:09:43 | 2015-06-09T11:23:08 | 74 | 47 |
[WP] You are the captain of a starship, only a few hours before the last star in existence dies and the universe goes cold.
Inspired by my answer to another prompt about running out of time. | We'd known that the stars were going out for generations. Our best and brightest had cobbled together a sleeper ship so that humanity could live beyond our universe's demise. A ship which could breech the walls of our cradle and allow us to find a new home.
I'm the 44th Commander of the Gaia. All I know of what's come before are the journals left by my predecessors. Each was in command for decades. Decades alone on a sterile ship filled with the cryogenically frozen remnants of humanity. Each ended their own life in despair, having realized the horrible truth; only to be replaced by a new commander, freshly awoken from their cryogenic stasis.
Ours was the last universe. All the others had been long dead by the time we got there. The Gaia has shifted between a dozen dozen dozen universes during my tenure as commander. All of them barren and cold.
Almost as cold as the barrel of my service pistol felt, pressed against my temple. | Captain: "Well, looks like our first order of business is to rename what we call this ship. Obviously " starship" won't work anymore. Suggestions? We're brainstorming here, anything goes."
1st officer: cold space ship?
Captain: you're fucking fired
Engineer: ship of fools?
Captain: gawdammit, people!
Doctor: GoodShip Lollipop?
Captain: I'm so sick of all you | 2015-01-17T10:25:25 | 2015-01-17T07:00:38 | 154 | 87 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "What is she *doing*?" asked Wyll, staring at a round-ish woman who was squeezing a bulb of a lilly, rinsing her hands in the foamy lather that came out. She was on her knees next to a little stream, near her little cottage up the hill.
"Is she squeezing a potato?" asked Wyll. "Why on earth is she squeezing a potato?"
Wyll and Alice were peering over a bush, utterly fascinated.
"She's utterly barmy she is" said Alice. "What on earth is she trying to achieve, playing with a potato?"
"It must be old age" said Wyll. "Mam says when a person passes the age of 40, they go mad."
"Must be it." said Alice, shaking her head sadly. "And she's not even 40 yet!"
"Yeah..." mused Wyll forlornly. "Maybe some go earlier than others."
"Oh dear. She's licking her hands now."
"Oh dear. Mam and Pap better hear about this!"
=====
Nancy was ecstatic. She had just been washing what she had initially supposed was a potato, and quickly discovered that in fact, it was not a potato. She even discovered that some substance would come out when squeezed, *and* her hands smelt and felt *cleaner*. She was definitely putting this in her journal.
=====
| "Dear, don't listen to her!"
I stood square and looked mom in the eye. "I will. She explained more of it and it all hangs together. She said we could *die*. I think we should at least… check it."
Mom took a deep breath and came around the table. "I had hoped she'd be able to hold her tongue around the kids. What a thing to obsess about! Lousy woman, not letting us handle things in our own time. Honey!"
Dad appeared momentarily. "Mmmm?"
Mom looked to me. "Would you repeat that for father?"
So I did, hesitantly.
Dad and Mom stared to each other for a moment. Then, Dad began the terrible secret of death: "Her concerns *were* real, and her solutions *were* good, once, long ago, well before we spread from our first planet…" | 2017-09-14T15:50:54 | 2017-09-14T07:28:47 | 127 | 16 |
[WP] 50 years ago, NASA determined a rogue planet would hit earth, destroying us all. The rich poured their fortunes into space travel and fled... but the rock missed, and now the survivors won't take them back. | Dear Mom,
Today is the day. The most important day of my life up until now. Today, I will set foot on Earth for the first time! I'm excited, but quite scared too. How will the masses react? What can we do in the first few days? How do we settle forever? I'm glad Papa has given me many of his notebooks, but we were slowly running out. Are there any notebooks left on Earth? I wouldn't know. Ah, Papa is calling me! I'll stop here, and maybe I'll be writing in a new notebook soon!
&#x200B;
Dear Mom,
We... got rejected? But why? I know Papa and you were rich when you had me, but aren't you heroes? You've saved dozens of lives by taking all of your staff on our space shuttle, and Papa has provided for everyone for the past 13 years! How could Earthens reject us? Don't they see what Papa has done for society?? Either way, Earthens have told Papa to stay away or be engaged in battle for the rest of his days. I am disgusted at their neglect for another human being. I'm just going to practice the piano, so I can maybe ease the tension with my skill next time.
&#x200B;
Mom,
Have you been lying to me all this time? I've found a room, full of bodies. Human bodies. What is going on? Can I even trust you, or Papa? I'm going to ask one of the servants later. If my suspicion becomes reality, I will never forgive either of you. You know I will not ever hesitate. You know you have done things to me and how twisted I've become because of you. I still love you, but you know.
&#x200B;
Charlotte,
Why? Charlotte, Mom, why have you lied to me? Have you not caused enough hurt? I know you poisoned them. Papa preferred other methods, the servant said. I am so disappointed. You've used me for this stuff, but I'm your child. I get that much. But to use someone else's child? For horrible, inhumane things like this? That is something I cannot and will not EVER forgive. You've ruined me, and you've ruined whole families. Now, will you excuse me, I have to find Papa's gun. | “What do you mean they’re returning?” - ted Albright was a seasoned war veteran. The kind of man, who just doesn’t back down, a grizzled old man on his 70s.
“Well... sir... they’re just coming, no contact, no warning whatsoever. “ - lucian answered nervously, he had only heard the story, the one where the richest people on earth waged a defensive war on their millionaire starships, against the masses of desperate people with children in hand begging to take them with themselves. The horror of fathers dying needlessly brutal deaths trying to invade Area 51, where those same starships were departing.
“Well, boy, they aren’t landing anywhere in our earth, after all what goes around comes around”
Lucian had heard of this saying, but with a unified earth, it was now commonplace to just be kind, no need of that karma stuff. Everyone came together at the cost of millions of lives, and millions of dollars.
“This is unified earth president ted Albright, you are encroaching on unified space, and are required to vacate our planet, effective immediately.”
“We... come....” before the ship’s captain could finish, a loud bang was heard in the background. Ted was alarmed at this. Certainly, living 50 years in deep space, might have shed its kind of trouble in these decrepit ships, but something was amiss. He had heard explosions before, but what came out of the radio was kind of like a .... growl?
Cowardly they went, and boldly they returned, the other ones landed once again, and twisted as much as they were when they left, they ravaged the land, not with their money, but with their claws.....
Note: first time poster here, be gentle
Edit: spelling and ponctuation | 2019-12-07T06:54:26 | 2019-12-07T06:13:36 | 39 | 27 |
[WP] A dyslexic child accidentally sends his Christmas letter to Satan. Satan is touched by this gesture and decides to write back. | Dear Peter,
I'm sorry to say that I'm not the person you likely wanted to send your letter to. But don't fear, child, for I will bring you the gifts you asked for, so long as you promise not to tell your parents about this mistake.
Now, just so I remember, you asked for an Iron Man action figure, a puppy, and a for your father to come home. The action figure will be no problem, and one of my hell hounds recently gave birth to a litter of puppies, so I'll make sure to bring you one.
Your father will be tricky, but so long as you makes good on your promise of milk and cookies, I'm sure you'll be seeing him on Christmas morning.
I do wish you a Merry Christmas, and I'll be sure to pass along a good word to St. Nick.
Your friend,
Satan
P.S. - Make sure to have your parents read the book that I send with the puppy. That way, he'll grow up into a big, fierce, and loyal Protector of Darkness.
P.P.S. - I really can't wait to see you, Peter. This Christmas will be most memorable. | Dear Timothy.
I've gotten the list of things you've asked for.
I assure you I am very capable of bringing your dog back. Just as well, I can stop the teasing and jeering of your elder sister.
I was informed as to what a "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle" is, and I believe I can acquire that as well.
However, I'm not certain why you would want a monstrous truck. It sounds rather brutal for a child your age, but even I must admit it does sound fun.
I will deliver your presents on time, I give you my word.
Regards - "Satan" Morning star. | 2018-10-28T13:50:03 | 2018-10-28T10:08:58 | 30 | 10 |
[WP] A drug is developed that mimics the effect of 8 hours of sleep, giving people another 8 hours of potential production. Soon, society adjusts to a constant state of production. However, a horrible consequence begins to unfold. | **The Nightmare of the Dreamless**
I never intended to start a war, but I do intend to win.
How simply it all began, with an uncommon answer to a common question.
“Congratulations Mr. President, you’re having a boy,” the doctor had said, rubbing the ultrasound device over my wife’s growing belly. “Shall we begin the the Sleep Cure treatment today? It’s quick, I’ll get you both out of here in time for nice big brunch.”
I didn’t say no because I didn’t trust new technology, like some crazy anti-curer; my entire political platform was based off technological innovation. I didn’t say no because of the challenges of raising a sleepless child; I was the President, I could do anything. I didn’t say no because I didn’t think it worked; a billion babies had proven it a billion times, including my own now four-year-old daughter, Eliza.
It was because of her that I said no.
For most of my life, I’d hated myself for not being born just a few years later. The “Sleep Cure” treatment was invented when I was just seven. The biggest corporations in the world heralded a new era of productivity for the world. Soon, humanity would be free from the biological shackles of tiredness, drowsiness, and wasted life we called *sleep*.
And it couldn’t come fast enough. These corporations poured hundreds of billions of dollars into the initiative, subsidizing the treatment so that anyone and everyone anywhere in the world that wanted to free their children from sleep could do so.
Many more billions were poured into the ads too. How could any responsible parent, no matter how skeptical, risk having their children cursed by to the need to sleep in a world where all their peers had eight more hours every single day to out-compete them?
The campaign was more than a resounding success. Within five years, nearly 70% of the world’s new babies were born with the Sleep Cure, and growing every year.
The Sleep Cured were, indeed, productive. Relentlessly productive. There were even Cured eleven-year-olds at my own high-school graduation.
True to those advertisements, lacking the Sleep Cure lead to severe disadvantages, even outright discrimination. Schools, and employers openly rejected those with the need to sleep. Even I am guilty here – in building my campaign team, I couldn’t imagine hiring anyone slowed down by sleep. Hypocritical, I know. If it weren’t for the age requirement to become President, there’s no way anyone like me could have even had a chance in office. The Cured were just superior humans.
At least, that’s what I thought until I had Eliza. She revealed something to me I can’t believe I’d missed, I can’t believe the whole world seems to have missed. For as wonderful and special and as incredibly intelligent and beautiful as any father knows their daughter is, there is something *wrong* with her. Oh my God how it pains me to admit this.
Give her a puzzle, and she’ll figure it out it like any child. Put on a children’s TV show, and she’ll laugh at the jokes like any child. Tag her, and she’ll tag you back like any child.
Ask her to pretend she can fly though, and she’ll give you face unlike any child before the Cure.
Put simply, she cannot play. Even worse, I feel she cannot *imagine.*
A punch to the gut, a nauseating fear, an internal scream. What had I done to my daughter?
What about all the Cured members of my campaign team? Productive? Efficient? Relentless. Yes. Fun? Playful? Creative? No. Oh God, never. When was the last time I’d heard a teammate make a joke? When was the last time anyone on my team had come up with an original idea?
With the loss of their need to sleep came the loss of their ability to *dream.*
I’d become the President by inspiring people with my visions, my dreams, for the future. What would happen to future generations without dreamers like me? They’d be productive, but would they produce anything that mattered?
The world needed people like me, and one day it would need people like my son, to lead and inspire and dream. That’s why I said no. I knew my decision would be controversial, but I never could have imagined how deeply it would shatter my already deeply divided country, driving a sledgehammer into the wedge.
One side consisted mainly of the parents who had realized the same thing as me and could no longer write off the strange behavior of their children as generational differences. They lashed out bitterly against the corporations and media industries that had ruined their children, hellbent on destroying the practice.
On the other, of course, were the presently Sleep Cured, who resented any sentiment that they were damaged. They called out the Uncured as envious of Cured, as resentful for their disenfranchisement.
And so, the war rages on.
We will defeat them, as terrifyingly productive as they are, because they are equally predictable, because they can’t see worlds that don’t exist, because they don’t have visions or visionaries.
And most of all, because children deserve to play.
___
r/stealthystorkstories | My heart raced as my boots pounded the pavement, a shriek from about twenty feet back shattering the night air. The street lights flickered from the surge of energy unleashed by its wail, and I knew right then that this was a new class of creature. I abandoned the path to the bunker; I would never outrun one of those things for long enough. I ducked into an alleyway and crouched behind a dumpster, racking my shotgun and ejecting the empty shell casing as I tried to normalize my breathing. The night always seemed uniquely still after the cry of a Tanzer.
They first appeared in Hamburg, where the drug was first manufactured. Shadowy figures were reported by users of the drug about a year after use. But by then, we'd all been using it. Big cities in the United States, Japan, England, China, it was all over the place. At first, there were people who decided not to take the drug, but it quickly became necessary to compete in the job market. People were working during the day and taking classes at night, blowing past their peers who weren't taking the drug. It didn't take long for people to realize this was becoming the new normal.
Normal.
We'd never have that again. The Hamburg massacre shook the world. Over a thousand people died in a single night. Butchered in the streets by shadowy creatures difficult to define. The German media called them *Traumtänzer*, or Dreamwalkers. Shortly after the Hamburg massacre, the creatures appeared all over the world. We took to calling them Tanzers in the states, and discovered quickly that guns worked on them. When shot, they dissipated into smoke. We weren't sure if we were killing them, but it sure as shit slowed them down. Every time the sun went down the world turned into a warzone. Scientists across the globe were working feverishly to come up with weapons more effective against them, but without corpses to study, it came down to a deadly game of trial and error.
"Why are you hiding?" Came a voice from the alleyway.
I turned slowly around to find a tall thin man with long brown hair and a black scarf approaching me. I knew what the scarf meant. He smiled with wild eyes and lifted his hands, "They're here to deliver us. Lord Hypnos is angered. We must all-"
I lifted my gun and squeezed the trigger, opening a hole in his chest and sending him to the ground. I cursed my luck and fled my hiding spot as the night lit up with screeching and wailing. Of all the places for one of those freaks to be. They were the *Sons of Hypnos*, a cult that had formed around the situation. They worshiped the shadow beings, and so far as we could tell they weren't spared by them. Just insane people who believed the Greek god of sleep was restless and retaliating. You could always count on humans to make human problems worse for humans.
I raced down the street as the streetlights began to flicker and fade around me. The shadows stretched as I rounded the corner and caught my first glimpse of the bunker. The searchlights swept the city streets and each machine-gun post was manned. I glanced over my shoulder to see a whole sea of the freaks clawing after me. My stomach sank when I saw how fast they were gaining on me. If the boys at the bunker didn't find me first, I would never make it. I racked my shotgun and fired blindly behind me. The purpose wasn't to hit one of them– it was to make some noise.
The searchlights immediately began searching with purpose. They swept the streets, getting closer and closer to me. I racked the gun one more time and went to shoot behind me when I felt the icy grip of one of them on my wrist. I started shouting as the searchlights swept areas further and further away from me. I screamed as loud as I was able as I was dragged away. One of them ripped the weapon from my hand as I was pulled down the road. I caught a glimpse of him as I was pulled off the street and toward an alleyway.
The man in the black scarf. He was on his feet, delirious, bleeding all over the thin layer of snow on the ground. He managed to laugh at me before breathing his final breath. It wasn't until I was fully encased in darkness that I had the realization that I wasn't making it out of this. Nobody would be coming for me. It was over. Even as the sharpened claws of the Tanzers opened my stomach, my chest, and my throat, I somehow clung to hope that someone would come.
I guess that was just human nature.
To hope.
To hope until the bitter end.
r/A15MinuteMythos | 2022-03-18T10:33:48 | 2022-03-18T09:57:34 | 514 | 60 |
[WP] A man hands you an object and asks you desperately to hide it from him. What is the object and why is it so important that it be hidden from him? | I'd known Kevin as long as I can remember; we grew up in the same neighbourhood, went to all the same schools, we weren't what you would consider close but we had a bond that you develop when you've known someone for that amount of time. At some point throughout the years he had gotten into some dark stuff, messed around with the wrong people - and the wrong people's wives. He had lived in a perpetual state of falling over himself, and I had always been there to pick him up.
It was a Saturday when he called me - technically a Sunday. It was 3am and I had just got in, I was with my then girlfriend and my phone lit up with his name. My heart sank and a cold wash of sobriety spread through me. I told my girlfriend, Kathy, to head to bed and I would meet her up there.
"Jerry?" He started
"Kevin."
"Mate I need you to come over."
"I can't drive mate, I'm drunk." A poor excuse, I was too tired to think of anything better.
"I'll come get you." And like that he hung up, I draped my coat back over my shoulders and told Kathy I'd be back shortly, I just had to meet Kevin.
Kevin's car came bounding through the twilight and pulled up hard outside the house. He drove an old MG, blood orange and beaten to all hell. He threw open the door and ushered me in.
"Don't look at me like that man, I don't need money."
"What do you need then mate? You know Kathy won't let you stay again. I can give you money for a hostel or something but-"
"I don't need money mate. Just listen." I leaned back in the chair to indicate I was listening, reluctantly at least. The seats were ripped leather and freezing cold. Winter really worked its way into these vehicles.
"I need to give you something, and I need you to hide it. Far away. Don't ever let me see it."
*Jesus Christ* I thought, *He's gone and fucking killed someone.* My face went white, and he leaned over me to open the glove box. I shuffled back further, hiding from the potential murder weapon, the glove box clicked open and I closed my eyes.
"Jerry?" He said, in his softest stoner croak.
"Kevin, whatever you've done, I want no part of it this time!"
"Jerry, no!" He gripped my arm and my eyes fell open, I looked over to see a shoebox sat on his lap. "Jerry, I've found someone. I met her tonight Jerry and I love her. I need you to take all this stuff, take it far away from me. Destroy it if you will." He lifted the lid on the box and passed it over to me. It looked like a police evidence locker, like Keith Richard's wet dream. Bags upon bags of dope, needles, pipes, things I didn't even recognise. I looked up at Kevin and the street lights hit his eyes as they began to well up.
"Jerry, I don't want to be that man any more." I leaned over and embraced my old friend.
| "Terry, you have do hide this from me," Arthur pleaded as his pressed a manila envelope into my hands. "I can't have this in my house anymore. Please, just take it."
What could I do? He was my best friend and the desperation in his eyes left me no choice.
"Thank you, Terry. You don't know how much this is going to help. One word of warning, though, don't open it. It's for your benefit."
I shrugged and went home. The filing cabinet in the study was a mess anyway. I dropped it in the back, not even the least bit curious about the contents.
I completely forgot about the envelope. Arthur never mentioned it again. It was an envelope like any other in a sea of such things inside a cabinet I didn't care to organize. It wasn't until the IRS decided to audit my business that I held it again. I didn't even realize what it was until I emptied the contents onto my desk.
There were only two items, a small laptop and a note. Now, I was curious and a little worried, too. I read the note and burst out laughing before I had even reached the end. Arthur was claiming to be a porn addict. A porn addict. That's ridiculous. There is no such thing. The laptop was suppose to contain a huge archive that he collected over the years. He couldn't bring himself to delete any of it, and the only way he could break his addiction was to get rid of it somehow.
I remembered Arthur's warning, but I didn't care. I plugged the laptop into a nearby charger and turned it on. How bad could it possibly be?
More than anything it was amusing. The entire hard drive was meticulously organized and labeled by category, date, performers, and sometime even setting. I browsed for a bit, checking out a few things here and there. Well, maybe more than just a bit. Time seemed to fly by.
The next day, I figured I'd browse a little more. After all, the man spent years on this. I was curious to see how bad it had gotten. It was scientific curiosity, nothing more. It wasn't like I was enjoying any of it.
Well, after a week, maybe I was enjoying it a little bit. It was remarkable how good of a job he did with this amazing collection.
A month later I had barely scratched the surface. There was a lot of good stuff on there. I had even started creating my own lists of favorites and leaving little notes. I had requested an extension from the IRS, and the documents were lying on the floor untouched.
Before long, I knew I was a porn addict, too. | 2014-01-07T09:58:12 | 2014-01-07T09:54:04 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] Every morning you wake up with small wounds; just little scrapes and bruises you attribute to flailing in your sleep. This morning, you woke up with a huge cut across your hip, a glowing golden dagger plunged into the wall, and what looks an awful lot like a dead angel on your floor. | My head pounded, and I found that I could not breathe through my nose. I sat up and felt the aches of my body call my eyes to my hips. And there I saw the deep wound, black in the hazy light.
I blinked, and felt my stomach churn at the sight.
I whimpered and looked around. I saw, in the wall, a knife, glinting gold in the morning sun. Blood splashed around in angry expressions of life. The agony sprayed across the walls of death.
Death on the carpet.
My stomach squeezed and my abs heaved and I vomited onto the bed. Tears streaked my eyes, hot with fear and shame and guilt. Disgust, as i felt it.
I heaved again, and found that there was not much more than liquid and visceral pink chunks, the sight of which conjured up fear of myself.
Fear of what I might have done with the body.
My hip surged with pain, and I reached for it, my fingers fighting my attempts to flex them around the dry cake of blood. I sobbed again at the pain and choked on the question of whether I had put the body on the floor.
I looked at it, long-haired, black, matted with wet. Her shirt, hinting at a past of sheer and ethereal, now ripped and bloodied. Her limbs were askew in a parody of double-jointedness. I could not tell, noseblinded by the vomit and the metallic tang of blood, but I thought that if she had a scent, she would smell of cherry blossoms
I could not bear to not know. For I could not remember.
Slowly, I inched from the bed, kicking away the damp sheets. I tried to swing my legs to the floor and somehow enraged my hip and lost my balance. I slid down.
I was near enough to naked that I felt the chunks of vomit and viscera on my skin. I cried out in pain and anguish and self-loathing for a crime that I did not know if I committed.
Yet the evidence lay all around me, the only scenario possible stuck in my mind: the murder of that young girl.
I inched over, switching between pulling by my arms and pushing with my legs, sliding through the cold slick. I reached her and felt her arms. Cold.
I dug under her hair and felt her neck. Cold.
I breathed hard as I fought the pain and my racing heart. Slowly, as gentle as i could, I pushed the hair from her face, and turned her head.
I twisted away as open eyes stared at me, accusing. No, soft. No, vapid, nothing, eyes that held nothing within them. Stupid eyes of someone who is dead in the mind, even if their body lives.
I immediately think that she must have had perfect eyes when she was alive. Eyes that spoke and sang, and touch. All with a look. Eyes that held compassion. Compassion that I could not feel for the body in front of me.
It was a body. It was evidence against me. For surely, seeing her eyes, I know I must have killed her.
I must be a monster to think so of the dead.
I closed those eyes, and she was at peace. Dirty, unwanted peace. And I in turmoil, as I felt along her body. I hazarded with the hand that held my hip, checking every few seconds to see if I would bleed again.
I turned her body over and saw the offending wounds. The ending wounds. Wounds of the heart.
I sobbed. I cried. What else could I do?
I had this thought, and I looked around. At the body, at the blood, at the bed, at the vomit, at a halo in the wall. At redemption.
I slipped through the gore towards the wall, and with a panting effort, pushed myself up. I sat against it, facing the body, now closer to her feet than her face. Below her, in a way. Where I ought to be.
I looked up and saw the glint of the knife. I reached up, but could not grab it. I put one foot beneath me and pushed up and grabbed the criss-cut handle. then I slumped, and with my weight, pulled the weapon from the wall.
I breathed out. A long groan. I held the knife. I stared at it, thinking of it again, and the halo of light. It was indeed, my redemption.
I looked again at the body, still seeing that face. Then the shaft of light lay upon it, and in that moment, I could see. Such a beauty of pale skin. So serene, even half covered in blood.
My Angel. My Redemption.
I held the dagger by the blade and lifted it up, letting the handle and hilt catch the light. Then I kissed it.
In nomine patri, et filli, et spiritus sancti... et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
O Holy Dagger.
My redemption.
___
/r/chrisbryant
| It all started three weeks ago; I woke up with a single long scratch on my leg. I didn’t pay any attention to it; I had to get to work. The next morning I had a small cut on my arm. Every day I woke up to more and more. I thought maybe I was hitting my metal bedframe in my drunken sleep, but the cuts kept coming even when I slept on the couch. The wounds got worse. I needed to see a doctor, but I kept putting it off.
Around 4am one morning I woke up to a sharp pain in my side. There was a sopping bloodspot on the sheets, and a gory wound above my hip. Bleary-eyed, I looked around my bedroom in the blue twilight.
There was a glowing golden dagger stuck in the wall. Its etched handle bore intricate faces and ‘INRE’ wrought in silver letters. There was a crucifix-shaped burn on the wall, and below it, a golden crucifix had fallen into my fishtank.
“What the hell?” I groaned.
Something in my room groaned back. I tried to prop myself up in bed so I could take a look, but it was too painful. I collapsed backward onto my pillow and drifted off into a cloudy void.
“Mr. Taney,” a voice said, “Mr. Taney, can you hear me?”
My eyes blinked open slowly. It was bright. Everything was white. A woman in white stood over me, looking down with concern.
“Where am I?” I slurred. “Is this a hospital?”
“No Mr. Taney,” the woman said, “This is Heaven.”
“What?” I said, fully alert now. My bed appeared to be made of a cloud-like substance. I touched my balls. I was wearing a large green leaf instead of underwear.
“Who the hell are you?” I said, “Call me the doctor. Right away. You’ve given me too much morphine.”
The woman cringed. “I’m God, actually,” the woman said. “You don’t need a doctor, you’re fine.”
“I want a second opinion,” I said without thinking.
“What,” God said, “Like from the Devil?”
I stopped to consider. “No,” I said, “Don’t call him.”
“Her,” God corrected.
“What’s going on here?” I asked, “Am I dead?”
“No,” God said. She poured herself a coffee from an ornate golden tankard on a puffy white countertop. “You’re moonlighting.”
“Moonlighting?” I said, propping myself up in bed.
God handed me the coffee. It tasted wonderful. To be honest, I expected a bit better, this being Heaven and all, but it’s hard to complain about free coffee.
“Yes,” God said, “Moonlighting. You see, when one of my children strays from the path, I send an angel to Earth to guide them.”
“I see,” I said. My mind quickly turned to a highlight reel of all the bad things I had said and done.
“You’ve spent a lot of time gambling and drinking and having sex,” God said.
I opened my mouth to deny her accusations, and then closed it.
“I forgive you,” God said, smiling reassuringly. “But I’d also like you to stop. So I keep sending you angels to help out.”
“Angels?” I said. “In my bedroom, was that…?”
“Yes,” God said. “You keep fighting off the angels.”
I cringed.
“Don’t worry,” God said, “They’re immortal.”
“I-I,” I said, “Why don’t I remember fighting them?”
“I want to preserve your free will,” God said, “So I confine the memories to your subconscious—the realm where the divine influences the profane. Moonlighting.”
“I see,” I said, “So I’ll wake up in my bed in the morning?”
God nodded.
“Will I remember this conversation?” I asked.
“No,” God said. She looked at me meaningfully. “Will you try for me? Will you try to return to the path of the light?”
There was a pause. My lungs filled with the clean pure air of heaven. I felt the pain of my wounds and the soreness of my muscles. My spirit ached. This life I was leading—it wasn’t perfect. I kept creating problems for myself, but I didn’t know if I could stop. This was the only life I knew. What would life be like without the highs and lows of drugs and women and cards? I couldn’t picture it, but a part of me sorely wanted to.
“Will you promise?” God asked again.
I nodded slowly—but I wasn’t yet sure if I meant it.
-----
subscribe to /r/trrh for more! | 2017-12-23T22:55:02 | 2017-12-23T22:13:59 | 147 | 68 |
[WP] You are a detective meeting your new partner... Who only speaks in grizzled, noir metaphors no matter the context. How does your first case go? | I wiped my hand self-consciously on the leg of my pants and put on a winning smile. "Hi," I said. "Detective Jones. Pleased to meet you."
He stood in front of me, slouched and rumpled. Without breaking eye contact, he pulled an artfully battered pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one with the flick of a lighter that seemed to come from nowhere. "Chandler," he said.
"Welcome to the department," I said. "Did you meet the captain?"
"She was a dame," he growled.
"Well... yeah," I said. "I guess. I mean, she is. I suppose."
He drew deep on the cigarette, that already seemed to have a longer trail of unbroken ash than you'd think was possible in such a short space of time. "She was a dame, alright. Had legs that didn't quit."
I glanced around, checking for HR staff. "Yeah... yeah. I mean, they *did* quit. Just before... half way, I suppose. Around regular, normal -" I struggled, "-quitting points for human legs. You transferred from LA?"
He scowled. "They call it the city of angels."
"Who does?"
He ignored me. "I never saw an angel there. None that weren't fallen."
I made a point of checking my phone. "So... you liked it out there?"
"She's a lady, LA." He said.
"Is she? How long does it take for her legs to quit?"
He threw the cigarette down and stared meaningfully into the middle distance. "You try to treat her right, but she's dark inside. Cold. Her streets - long, blackened arteries that lead to a beating heart of seedy corruption."
I tried to inject a brief shot of levity. "Even Disneyland?"
"Main Street USA. The ribbon that ties the darkest gift the world was ever given."
I swung one shoe around. I didn't know what to do with my hands. "You hungry? It's about lunch time. There's a place around the corner that does great hot dogs. You like hot dogs?"
He headed towards the door. I followed him, grateful for (if nothing else) a change of scenery. "A hot dog's just the world in bread."
"A-"
"A breathing life, torn to pieces-" his gravelled voice went on.
"Oh, you haven't finished."
"-and made into a shape you can look at without feeling sick. The refuse. The wretched dregs, hidden from your eyes."
My smile plasticised. "I think they have tofu, too," I said, with false brightness. "If that helps. My wife's a vegetarian. Are you married?"
He fixed me with cobalt blue eyes. "Am I married?"
There was a painful pause. "I..." I started. He didn't say anything. "... don't know. Are you?"
He stopped for a second, reaching into the pocket of his trenchcoat for a hip flask full of foul smelling bourbon. "Am I married." He repeated. This time, not a question.
"Well..."
He stared.
I swallowed. "...are you?"
He took a swig. "She was a dame," he said.
"Oh, Jesus Christ." | DAVE AND DICK: THE FIRST CASE
We stepped over the crime scene tape and entered the apartment. I already had my ipad out, stylus at the ready. There was a girl lying face down in a pool of blood, a knife stuck out of the right side of her back. I quickly started jotting down notes: *victim is approximately five and half feet tall, blonde-*
“First case with the new guy,” Dick muttered under his breath. “He’s seems about as bright as the –"
“Uhh Dick?” I asked. “Did you say something?”
“Always asking questions, this one . . . never the right questions.” Dick lit a cigarette.
“Dick, you know I can hear you, right?”
“Alright Dave, first test, was this a murder . . . or a robbery,” Dick said, gesturing from the girl to the ransacked apartment. Then under his breath, he said “This case won’t be easy with the new guy slowing me down. Seems about as sharp as a ball. Humph, ‘Ball Boy,’ a good name for him, young guy rolls with the times . . . .” Dick glared at my ipad as he finished his muttering.
I just stood there, flabbergasted. *Does he not know I can hear him? How long has it been since this guy had a partner?*
Dick looked away and walked around the room. “Here’s the answer, Ball Boy, it was a robbery, and this dame got in the way.”
“How can you tell?” I asked, preparing to take notes on my ipad. Dick may be a bit off, but there’s no denying that he had the best record on the force, only one unsolved case.
“See that pile of clothes over there, been dumped out of that drawer?” Dick gestured again. “There’s flecks of blood on top of the clothes. Means the robbery was already taking place when this broad came in.” Then under his breath he said, “Mole rat coulda seen that clue.”
*Should I tell him, he has to know, right?* I wondered as I took notes.
“Alright, Ball Boy, what else can you see?” He asked.
I looked around. “Umm, well – “
“Betcha wonder why I call you Ball Boy, huh?”
*How do I respond to that?* “Uh, probably because you think I’m as –“
“It’s because your balls haven’t dropped, boy!” He laughed at his joke. “This guy’s as bright as the north star –“ He coughed suddenly.
*Huh, well I guess that’s an improvement, definitely better than –*
“At noon,” he finished.
*Aaand there it is.*
| 2015-09-07T15:20:00 | 2015-09-07T15:11:23 | 93 | 13 |
[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. | Hey Moose,
We had a good run. 16 years is good for a dog that somebody else starved in their back yard for a while.
You did really good. You remembered all those tricks somebody else taught you, showed the cats/birds love, and learned to stop being scared over food. You gave the best hugs on the planet.
I'm sorry that your last days hurt so much. We tried to work around your sickness best we could but it was too late when we figured out what was wrong.
I know you couldn't understand at the time but the other twin dogs were hurt just like you, but instead of missing food they never had love or anyone else. Thanks for trying to love them, too. They've gotten a lot better at nipping and trusting people over time.
That last year was really rough but the time the family had with you was beautiful...even though the " dog ate the sofa" story still makes the rounds at parties. Say hi to Herky, Xena, Scouty, Jazz, Ouma and the birds for me.
Thanks for that last smile.
Hanging in as always,
E. | I’m not really sure if I should be doing this, or if I even miss you right now, but some how you always find your way into my mind. I can’t believe I promised you I could be strong that day because I felt so weak knowing I couldn’t have your presence in my life anymore, but I think I have gotten “stronger” since then. Sounds dumb but I tried to find someone like you after it was all said and done, but I realized that I don’t need to be more than myself to be happy. Hope you’re not thinking of me and hope you’re enjoying your life. I’m still thankful for everything you taught me beautiful. | 2017-11-06T00:29:00 | 2017-11-06T00:23:50 | 235 | 10 |
[WP] When you die, you are given an option—either be judged for your sins, or choose what’s behind The Door. The noble and arrogant choose to be judged, the evil and fearful choose The Door. When given the option, you choose to simply turn around and walk away. | Two choices. To the left, a scale, with a feather placed on one of the plates, where the sins of now gone souls would be weighed against it. To the right, a solid oak door, behind which there was only the unknown. The pair sat side by side, alone in the middle of an empty white void, where a man now stood as well. As the confusion started to set in, a strangely familiar, yet ethereal voice, began to speak:
"*Those who were good during their corporeal life, or are arrogant enough to judge themselves as such, can place their hearts on the scale, to have the weight of their actions judged against the feather of a dove. Those who consider themselves uncapable of coming out victorious of such trial, can choose to open The Door. What lies behind it will remain untold, but for some, uncertainty is better than certain doom.*"
"Shit, wait, am I dead?"
"*You are.*"
"This feels... weird. Did my lungs finally give up on me then?"
"*Yes.* "
"Knew it. Well, it was a good run at least, I guess. Wait, was it? Did I live a good life Mr Ominous Voice?"
"*Indeed. Few are lucky enough to reach such an advanced age as you did.*"
"Good to know. So... I'm in purgatory right? Do I really have to make a choice here?"
"*This place, not unlike me, has a thousand different names in a thousand different cultures. And yes, you have to choose.*"
"But like, what's stopping me from just, you know, walking away? This place seems pretty big, I could wander here for a while."
"*Nothing.*"
[...]
A long time passed. Or not, as time did not matter there. Many souls arrived, made their choices, and went away, and they all could see a silhouette wandering in the far corners of the empty plains. Despite him being too far away to be heard, he was mostly silent. The silence was only occasionally broken by the questions he would ask the void, and that, surprisingly, would be answered back. He would wander for what seemed like an eternity, and just a few minutes at the same time, pacing around the empty space, questioning the voice about life, truth, and the universe. That was until, at last, he returned to the only objects visible in the vast sea of white.
"I have made my decision." The man said. "I've had a lot of time to think about this, and I must say you helped a lot, Mr Ominous Voice. So thank you for that. Now, shall we get this over with?"
"*Please do.*"
"I pick the scales."
"*Why?*"
The wanderer's expression quickly became perplexed.
"Wait, what? Did you just... ask me something?"
Silence.
"Huh. Guess it's not my turn to make questions anynore. Right?"
Nothing.
"Alright. So, why the scales. Well, I'm sure you have been following my train of thought so far, but to sum it up, I have decided that whatever destiny is given to me after the trial will be what I actually deserve. I know I'm not perfect, and that the door could possibly harness a paradise I have never even imagined, nor ever been worthy of. When the scales judge me as good, bad, or anything in-between, I will be simply reaping what I have sowed during all my time alive. I don't know whether that's the right answer, but I want to at least take responsibility for my actions."
...
"*It is enough.*"
As these words echoed, the oak door started opening, slowly revealing a heavenly glow. The wanderer looked at it in awe.
"*You see, my child, the actual choice has never actually mattered. Your reasoning for it is what was truly being evaluated here. You have accepted the imperfections of your time on Earth, and didn't try to avoid their consequences. And that is unquestionably noble.*"
"Oh, I see. Is this goodbye then?"
"*Maybe.*"
"Maybe?"
"*Many have also passed the test, just like you have. However, I have never witnessed another soul do what you did, wandering endlessly in this empty void while enquiring me about everything I could answer. Your search for knowledge, simply so you could answer a single question that laid solely on your morality, has impressed me beyond belief. So now, I present you with another choice. Go through the door, and you will recieve the gift of human life once more. Stay here, and you will obtain all the answers you have ever sought for, in exchange for helping me guide the souls of the dead, and keeping the balance of the universe.*"
"Oh. Oh shit. Do I... have to answer this right now?"
"*By no means. Please, take your time. I will be at your disposal.*" | welcome to purgatory whaddya want?"
A girl, no older than 16, with a McDonald's uniform stood behind a counter.
"I- I- uh, what?"
Just a moment ago you had tripped into a busy street, so now standing in a void with nothing but a girl in a McDonald's uniform in front of you, you begin to put 2 and 2 together.
"You said this was purgatory?"
She sighs "yes can you please hurry up there are other people waiting"
You look behind you, just more void
She shakes her head "alright sir listen I'll give you two choices since you're taking too long to order, we have Judgement or Door, and for a limited time you get a free item of your choice if you walk through the door"
"Didn't I just die I think I need a second to process this."
She throws her hands up in frustration "COME ON, I want to get the fuck home for the love of God choose one"
You look at her one last time, then turn around to walk away
"Where the- what the- the fuck are you doing?!" She jumps from behind the counter and runs up to you
"Where the fuck do you think you're going you can't just walk away get back here!"
You don't respond, you try to tune her out, the entire time you're been here you haven't been able to think for a second what the hell is going on, your head has been fuzzy
"I know that you aren't deaf so ANSWER ME" she smacks you on the arm
"Wait so, I died from getting hit by a car"
"Truck actually but yeah sure why"
"But like, what happened before that?"
"Excuse me?"
"I couldn't have been a baby when I died seeing as I'm an adult now and I'm sure I had a full life but, I just can't remember any of it"
"That's not... That's not possible. Nobody has any ailments here, everyone restores their perfect form, mentally and physically, you did have a full life and I know you remember it"
You think maybe it's just the shock of being dead. You close your eyes and take a deep breath and clear your mind. You focus on remember your past, your parents, your loved ones, friends... Nothing.
You open your eyes to a myriad of different fast food employees surrounding you
"Oh shit he's up" they all take a step back
"How the fuck did this happen" a domino's employee asks to the McDonald's employee you first met
"Fuck if I know, he claims to not remember anything then he just passes out, this isn't my problem nor my fault so I'm going on break"
"Wuh- what, what the fuck" you feel extremely dizzy you can't get up.
"Alright take him to Raphael, he'll know what to do"
A Chick-fil-A employee picks you up tenderly and flies you straight up into the air, the void opens a hole for them and you soon find yourself standing before a much larger Chick-fil-A manager.
"Thank you jj" the managers voice booms
"My pleasure" the first one bows and then flies back down
The manager picks you up between his two fingers and sits you on his desk before typing on his computer
"Hmmmm..."
"Wha- what's going on"
"Do you know what a greater purpose is son?"
"I- I mean sure I get the general concept, but why?"
"You had one, but you don't fulfill it"
"I-im sorry?"
"You should be, says here you spend all your time on Reddit, and League of legends."
"They sound familiar but I can't remember anything"
"Here's what we'll do, we can bring you back, but you have to live with the sole purpose of fulfilling your purpose."
"Yes- yes that sounds great please"
Without another word he flicks you off his desk, you feel like you're falling, you begin to fall faster, a hole opens and you begin to fall through space, you see earth, earth gets bigger, and bigger, you enter the atmosphere, you see your house your house approaches at a rapid pace...
You jump out of your bed, you had a dream last night but the only thing you really remember is that you were falling at the end. You notice a piece of paper in your hand. You unroll it and read the top
"To-Do list?" Your mom must've written it, whatever you'll get to it after a quick game of league... | 2022-11-05T12:24:58 | 2022-11-05T05:58:50 | 1,347 | 234 |
[WP] The first human is sentenced to death by an alien civilization, who don't know the first thing about how to kill a human. | "You have been sentenced to die, by our most toxic of substances." They shrieked, their ugly voices resonating in my head.
"I didn't know you were sentient! I just want to go home!"
"You should have considered the consequences! Prepare for death by kuroxis.."
"Kuroxis? What the fuck is kuroxis?!" I asked, but then, the chamber began filling with smoke, and I prepared for the end, trying to hold my breath as best as I could.
"There's no point in stalling." They said, with their grotesque tongues. Finally, I had to take a breath, and.. I smelled it. It was reefer! I began to laugh.
"This is kuroxis? Reminds me of college!"
"The human should be dying soon." They said, but I just kept breathing it in, and soon.. I was chuckling, laughing, giggling, and very hungry. I became sleepy.
"Hey, hey, hey, man. Who's dying? You know, I'm dying for some fuckin' funyuns, that's for sure. Or maybe a milkshake.."
"The human should be dying any second now.. Kuroxis is among the most deadly of our poisons.."
"This is some good shit, man." I said, wondering what I was doing and where I was.
"Good? What?! You are supposed to be in agony!"
"Oh, yeah. That. Yep, it really hurts."
"The human is acting like it enjoys it! What.. What is going on?!" They murmured amongst themselves.
"No, no. I hate it. Now, uh, bring me some funyuns and a milkshake, and pump in some more kuroxis. I hate that shit. Yep." | *Sigh* This is the fifth anal probe I've received today, I'm not sure how that's supposed to off me, butt... Maybe I'll die of embarrassment. How did I end up here? One day I was out in the woods near my farm looking for ol' Betsy my cow. She'd been out for 4 days straight. My guess is that you probably think I'm just a hick, you'd be wrong of course. I went to college I have a Master's degree and everything. I always had assumed, you know, the stories can't be real. You hear it though farm hands getting abducted and all.
My story began about three weeks ago, like I said I went out looking for Betsy. So cliche, bright light over head appears just like in the movies. I'm a rational man, I know its just a helicopter, right up until I start floating up. Panic does not begin to describe my mental state, I pass out and come to. Three bright lights in my face, can't see nothing. I struggle, restraints are around each of my limbs holding me to the cold metal table. One comes loose and I bat one of the lights aside, and for a moment I see one of my captors. I was expected little grey men not cattle.
How did I get in the mess? | 2015-09-11T12:17:41 | 2015-09-11T10:32:47 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] How strongly can you make someone hate a character? | It wasn't enough to get a hundred. Any fool could get a hundred. The commander had set the bar too low so that the nobodies could crawl over it. Jiro was going to do better. He was going to make his ancestors proud. He was going to get every possible kind of Nanjing scum there was. He was going to behead each one with a sword. He was going to be perfect.
He jumped off the truck before it has stopped and sprinted to the virgin street. He ran straight to the nearest house and right up to the window. There was no time to lose. The screaming had already started before he had started smashing the window with his rifle butt and didn't stop when he climbed through.
And then he saw it. The twin crib. The beautiful miracle of a twin crib. You could go a whole town without getting twins. The family scurried around him crying and begging. He went straight towards the soft, white crib. His heart began to racing as he got closer. He almost hesitated to look inside but didn't.
It was perfect.
| Considering how the day had started, Gus thought things were going rather swimmingly now. When that pregnant lady had taken his seat on the tube, Gus had written the day off. After it taking multiple jabs with his umbrella to move her, he was on the verge of just returning the bed.
Gus enjoyed the watching the rain from his office window. It was particularly pleasing considering that pensioner being mugged. Gus did so enjoy watching the strong lord it over the weak. All in and all it was an average day so far.
Gus had a brief sense of pride in his latest creation. Justin had proven rather profitable and Gus was considering adding a couple more to make a band. | 2013-09-15T04:47:37 | 2013-09-14T14:26:04 | 113 | 13 |
[WP] When turning 21, everyone develops a mutation, either physical (Claws, horns, wings) or mental (telekinesis, extreme intelligence, etc). You've just turned 21, and you're terrified of what you've gained (though others will be impressed).
Edit: Holy shit this blew up. I'm reading these and they're great! Thanks everyone! | “Wait, you got what now?”
“X-ray vision.” I put my head down on the table.
“Dude that’s fucking awesome! For my 21 mutation all I got was really fast growing hair, and that’s lame” my friend Derek said. His hair was down to his shoulders though he had been buzzed bald this morning. He went through razors faster than kids go through crayons. Everyone got a mutation at 21 and I was no exception.
“So you can like, see through clothes and walls and shit?” He said.
“Yup.”
“Dude that’s amazing! Wait, are you checking out my junk through the table?”
“No Derek” I sighed. “I can barely see skin. I can only see metal, bones and not much else.”
“You can see my bone if you want” He said grinning. His face turned from laughing to serious in a second. “Shit you mean it.”
“I’ll never be able to see what anybody looks like. I can sort of vaguely see outlines of things, but nothing else.”
“Oh my god, that’s the worse mutation ever!”
“Right?” The door burst open and I was bowled over by Jake, my broad shouldered friend whose twenty first birthday had earned him feathered wings and the nickname ‘Angel’.
“Happy birthday buddy, what’s your mutation?” He cried enthusiastically, giving me a hug.
“X-ray vision” I muttered.
“Dude that’s so cool! Wait, are you looking at my dick?” I sighed.
This was going to be a long day. | Everyone knew this day would come, the day that would determine the rest of our lives. No one knew where the mutation came from, my parents always told me that it was just a path of life, that their parents had mutations and so did the generation before them. Today was the day, my 21st birthday, my grandmother had always told me stories about her 21st birthday, how she spontaneously developed the ability to communicate with others without oral speech, through the mind. She was on a bus to Florida, when a rambunctious fellow with a pink bow tie came down to sit next to her, he had the largest nose she had ever seen, his mutation. Without the intention of doing so, she mocked the man calling him names, he turned around, got up and spat in her face.
Well, I was about to get my mutation today, a day I had dreaded for years. What if I develop some useless mutation? I won't ever amount to anything. I hadn't prepared myself for what was to come. Thoughts flowed through my head as I was eating a bowl of cereal.
'Christine! It's your 21st birthday! I can't believe my little girl has grown so old!'
'I know, mum.' | 2015-03-04T06:44:10 | 2015-03-04T00:56:46 | 28 | 13 |
[WP] “So you’ve come hero.” The most powerful dark lord in history says as he faces you across the hall. But before you take another step, he motions to the cutest little girl you’ve ever seen with tears in her eyes. “But first, please explain to my granddaughter why Grandpa needs to die.” | "Why....?" the little girl stammered, her face full of tears. "Why does Grandpa need to die? He hasn't done anything wrong!"
I stopped and looked towards the little girl.
"Your grandfather needs to die", I replied, "because he is the worst person in the world."
"That's not true! He-"
I cut her off. "Your grandfather needs to die because he has murdered millions of innocent people. Your grandfather needs to die because he killed my parents when I was younger than you. Your grandfather needs to die because he made me watch as my friends were tortured and executed."
I turned to face the dark lord, readying my sword. "That's why your grandfather needs to die."
The dark lord laughed. "That's a lot of talk, hero. But can you really do it? Can you really make a little girl watch as her grandfather is killed?"
I stared him in the eye. "No, no, I can't." And then, I charged. But not towards him.
"No! Wait, stop! What are you-"
My sword plunged straight through the little girl's chest, her tiny body going limp as I lifted her into the air. Behind me, the "dark lord" vanished in a puff of smoke.
"I...impossible" the little girl croaked, her voice now a deep rasp. Her face began to shrivel and wrinkle, and her body grew in size until I was met with the true form of the dark lord. "The illusion was flawless... how could you have known? I don't understand...."
"You've never cared about a single person in your life, so of course you wouldn't understand. No actual grandfather would ever put his granddaughter in such a dangerous situation. Only a monster like you would ever think a grandfather would do that." | *But why?*
I wondered this whilst crying behind the throne, watching my grandfather's life pour out of him like so many libations. He gasped, collapsing in a pool of black. Toward the end, even his humanity had begun to dissipate. Corruption and dark magic worked it's way into his blood, poisoning his thoughts even as it corrupted his mind.
*You're the Hero!*, my mind screamed. *You could have healed him, expelled the corruption and brought back the sweet grandfather I love, saved him from it all.*
Looking at me I felt as though the Hero understood, at least initially. I thought that when he looked at me, tears streaming down my face, that he too would have shed a tear. Given an apology, anything.
Instead he wiped the ichor from his sword and stood there for a few minutes. The crusade was won after all, wasn't it?
Or so he'd thought back then. Governing the Worlds was no small feat. My grandfather had poured everything of himself into it. And in the ensuing chaos, the Hero returned to what he did best-fighting the good fight. Enemies of the State were, after all, Allies of the Dark. We traded one villain for another.
When I place my blade in his heart, he'll know the true reckoning that comes with assuming my father's mantle. After all, there must always be a Hero. | 2019-12-11T21:16:13 | 2019-12-11T18:36:58 | 616 | 47 |
[WP] Not far from your village is a small grove. Within the grove a monster dwells. It devours the guilty and leaves the innocent. When the worst crimes are committed, the accused are sent to face the creature. You have murdered someone in self-defense. You enter the grove unsure of your fate. | \[PART 1/2\]
"Are you a criminal?" The voice in the grove of quiet barren willows and shifting darkness asked.
I was taken aback by the question. I thought I was to be devoured, consumed. Eaten up like I was nothing more than a snack for this *thing*.
But instead, it asked me a question. A question even I was unsure about.
I had killed, that is true.
But did so in self-defense. For my father wanted me dead because I was the child of his mistress and not his wife. A silly distinction, but it mattered in the eyes of the law. I was male, while his *legitimate* children were female. I was to be his heir, not them. Once again, a silly distinction led to a horrible fate. And such a distinction had robbed me of a father and gave me an enemy instead. He made my life miserable.
"Are you a criminal?" The voice rang out once more; the tendrils of shade that covered the grove oozed towards me, ensnaring branch and bramble as they did.
"I... I don't know," I said. I wasn't sure. How could I be? My father came at me with a sword, and all I had was a knife.
A knife to end one's misery.
Yet, it wasn't his misery that the knife was meant for. I was the one that should have died. Yet, I lived, and he perished, a stab wound straight through his heart. I wondered at that moment, would my father be here had I died?
The tendrils stopped. They shifted back, moving slowly over the broken branches that now lay there. The brambles were gone.
"Interesting." It said, its voice pouring into the grove now.
I peered into the darkness, wondering what could make such a voice. I reeled back as white orbs held my gaze.
"I am Judgement," the voice said, the two glowing orbs holding my attention. "I do not choose to take or leave, but it is you. In your voice, I heard innocence. Yet, I heard guilt as well. Why is that?"
I looked at the glowing orbs, pondering its question. "I'm not sure," I croaked up.
The orbs flew through the darkness, touching the edges of the willows and brushing past the fallen leave, stirring them into movement. The orbs flew around the grove, taking in every inch of me.
Finally, the orbs stopped, right before me but still hidden in shadow. "I cannot pass judgment on you." The orbs winked away, leaving me in the grove all alone.
Yet, the voice rang out, "come with me, for only the suffering can know my form."
And so the shifting darkness parted, revealing a path through the quiet willows, deeper into the forest.
Deeper into darkness.
I walked down the path of Judgement, wondering my fate. | “Killer!” “Send him to the woods!” “It would eat you, murderer”. I only wanted to leave the village, that was all.
I walk away from the people who who were my friends, my family, into the thick line of trees. Yes I have killed and in doing so committed a great sin, I however have no evil in my heart. My assaulter does. The monster will see that won’t it? It has to know, it has to.
I have walked alone for a couple of hours now and it’s getting dark. No animals live beneath these great trees. Only silence and echoes of regret dwell here. Suddenly, a giant hairy arm crashes the ground before me, completely stopping me in my tracks. Between the trees I see it now. The body of human only scaled to epic proportions, enveloped in thick black hair. The head on the other hand is the most alien thing I have ever seen. A gaping maw with rows of yellow teeth beneath a single eye. The eye draws my attention for while I can see it I can’t focus on it. Until it looks at my face. I feel cold water inside my head as I realize this thing is looking through my soul, searching for a reason to end me.
“Well, human, I see now why the others sent you to me” it said in a language I have never heard before but completely understand. “He attacked me, please, please don’t kill me. He attacked me I swear!”
“Yes yes human, it was either getting sent to me or dying at his hands.” The monster brings its face closer and closer until it almost touches me, I smell death and decay from its mouth. “What will be your judgement I wonder?” It whispers. Cold sweat trickling down my spine I open my mouth again:” I don’t regret what I did even though I knew it meant going to you, because you will know I am innocent”
As I say that I notice behind me his other hand, holding a bunch of white strings, tugging on some while letting some be loose. “I knew they would send you to me because you were too ambitious, you wanted to leave, to leave me!” It screams at me, I flinch backwards but as I do he attaches a string to me head. “You won’t try to leave now, not like the others” he gestures behind him. All the people who were eaten, their bones facing away from him, trying to escape. Trying to escape the village. | 2021-03-16T12:18:44 | 2021-03-16T10:05:48 | 151 | 64 |
[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. | I opened my eyes slowly, but what... I saw, if you could call it that, just wasn't natural. I did not see light, but rather I perceived both existence and eternity. I couldn't even begin to grasp the enormity of the everything of all time. To say that it was overwhelming would have been putting it very, very mildly. The rush wasn't even something that one could accurately articulate. It was just...
Maddening.
I took hold of my head in both hands and screamed. It hurt so much in ways that I could not describe in places I was unaware could feel pain. And for a handful of moments, that pain was my reality.
A voice, clear and beautiful, pierced the miasma of insanity that had begun suffocating me.
*"Look!"*
Then another, this one strong and fearsome.
*"She awakens! Quickly! Bring her here before she destroys herself!"*
And another one, a mother's voice.
*"Focus, child. You spread yourself too thin. Allow me."*
And just like that, the voice that I felt more than heard began to bring my perception into... a more finite, measurable level. Galaxies, stars, dimensions, microbes, and insects slowly faded from sight and sound. Plants, mountains, cities and animals winked out of my existence. For what seemed like hours, everything simply slipped away until I was left in a room with a multitude of... ... gods? No... But even as I dismissed the notion as ludicrous, I knew it to be true.
The room, despite it's glamorous and outrageous occupancy, was fairly plain. Just a large circular structure with me in its center and a thousand chairs of different shapes, styles, and sizes seating... Yes, I'm certain that I was sharing space with deities.
"T-Thank you," I whispered before noticing the hand on my shoulder. I followed it up to the entity that it belonged to. "Gaia?"
It... she? ... smiled at me. She was shaped from mountains and forests and wore a dress made of dazzling sunlight. A waterfall sparkled as it flowed like hair down her back, and yet never seemed to reach the ground. Her eyes were a hundred gentle stars that twinkled down at me with both concern and approval. All I can say is that she was quite literally made of life itself and life... was beautiful. And I, simply put, was in awe.
Then the clamor began.
*"She's beautiful..."* *"Not what I expected..."* *"I bid Mount Olympus!"*
*"The bidding hasn't even started yet! And Olympus isn't yours alone to give, Hera!"*
*"The Pantheon have united and have given me authority to proxy all our assets. We are unanimous in this. She belongs with us all. The rest of you will squander her talents with your petty squabbles trying to force your narrows points of view onto humanity. We offer so much more than simply lording our status and position over the young ones. She was even modeled after us!"*
I blinked. The young ones? Humanity?
"Keep your mountain to yourself, Greek concubine! She belongs with those like herself!" Snarled a blue fiend. Shiva, The Destroyer it had to be. That was the only blue six-armed deity that I knew of. "Commence the bidding!"
Bidding...?
*"Yes, get on with it!"* *"I'VE WAITED LONG ENOUGH!"* *"Enough of this farce!"* *"NAME YOUR PRICE, GAIA OF LIFE!"*
I looked back to Gaia, somewhat aghast that this was happening. "They're bidding on you?"
She ignored the masses and instead knelt down to bring herself level with me.
"No, child." She gently brushed back a lock of my hair, "They are bidding on you. Or rather, time with you. Your first cycle."
"Why? What am I to them?"
"You are special." She hooked the bend of her knuckle under my chin to make certain I kept my gaze on her. "The first of many. And they want to know you better."
*"I offer the secrets of nirvana!"*
"'First of many?' Many what...?" I asked
The commotion stopped all at once. The raised voices and snarling threats I could easily ignore. The silence, however, caught my attention. I turned my gaze back to the multitude of deities, each of which stared at me as though I were insane.
"She doesn't... even know." The first bidder, Hera, muttered in disbelief. "Dear child... You are the first deity crafted by human hands. And no one ever told you?"
Now it was my turn to look out at all of them as though they were the ones sucking down crazy pills.
"You ended over two billion lives by simply touching them with your mind," said the Destroyer. "Do you not remember?"
*"You brought down empires..."*
*"...more feared and revered than any of us ever were."*
*"You breathe conquest, death, love, and liberty..."*
I took a few steps back. What were they talking about? I looked back up at Gaia. "What... What is this about...?"
"When you died..."
"Died?" My hand instinctively closed around my throat, as though it were trying to make certain I was still breathing. I began to rebuke her words as false but as I took the very breath to do so, I remembered the Eurasia II falling back down to Earth with me in it. "What...? I... I did die... But I never... The space station was the last thing I remember."
"No, you... That was where it all began, not where it ended." A burlesque man with a spear nearly twice my size refuted my claim. "That can't be the last thing you remember unless..."
"She's not dead." A figured clutching to a massive scythe for support stepped forward. "At least, she won't be for much longer... Artificial child, open your eyes. You have much to do." | I braced myself, waiting for the inevitable jolt of the train crashing through my car. It never came.
In fact, I wasn't sitting in my car anymore, and I was pretty sure it wasn't daytime. I sat up and looked around. I was sitting on a wooden bench on what appeared to be a large veranda overlooking an enormous hill covered in snow. It wasn't cold, though, for a mountain. The sun was shining joyfully and I could hear birds chirping somewhere. A cute woman, with short blond hair blowing gently in the breeze walked up to me with a smile. She wore a pair of light blue jeans and a white tee-shirt with a stylized picture of a dove on it.
"Hello Greg," she said politely. "My name is Imogen. I've been assigned to be your personal assistant and your guide in the afterlife."
I stared at her for a while as her words sank in. The afterlife? Was this some sort of elaborate prank?
"Sorry," I said, "I'm agnostic. I don't really care if there is a God or not. I'm just going to go home if that's alright with you."
Imogen's eyes twinkled. Something was up.
"Ah, of course, that's why you're special."
"Look," I said, "can you just point me back in the direction of Dallas? I really should get home."
"That's no longer an option," Imogen said. "You're dead. Look." She pulled out a smartphone and opened an app, turning around to show me a video of...
My own dead body in the burning wreckage of my car. It was definitely mine. I almost threw up. It was completely crushed on the left side. There were splintered bones sticking out of the skin at weird angles. Imogen put the phone away.
"You see?"
I nodded weakly. The body with me right now wasn't broken like the one on the screen.
"Now look over the edge, tell me what you see."
I peered over the railing at the mountain. *That wasn't snow.*
"Clouds?"
"Yup," Imogen popped the *p* sound. "You're standing on Arc-angel Gabriel's favorite spot to sit and watch the mortal world."
"Huh," was the extent of my vocabulary as I leaned away worm the railing and slid back into the comfortable bench.
"Now if you don't mind," said Imogen, "we should get going. The gods are waiting for you to arrive."
I smiled weakly. "Well let's not keep them waiting too long." I got up and walked with her down a path through a fragrant forest. We came out to a parking lot with a single white and gold sports car sitting closest to the path we were walking on.
As we drove up a large highway, Imogen filled me in on where I was.
"Alright, so this is what you would call Heaven. Or at least, the closest thing to Heaven there can be. Its real name is in the ancient tongue, but even if I knew how to speak Ancient, I doubt you would be able to comprehend its meaning. The locals, myself included, refer to this place as Organis, as it is where life both begins and ends for all organisms in the universe. I'm taking you to the palace of the Gods, which should be pretty self-explanatory. You are a very special soul, Greg."
"Why," I asked. "What did I do?"
"It's not what you've done, but who you are," she explained. "Put simply, you are one of the most spiritually in tune humans of all time. I'm talking like ridiculously spiritual. However, you chose to be agnostic, leading to a huge conflict between your soul and your brain. That's why you were so cynical and depressed in life."
"Wow."
"That means all the gods want you to be part of their organizations. You would be able to take a position as an important figure in each one's religion. Be prepared to make a choice. Of you don't want to, someone might try to auction you off. Forcefully."
We arrived in the shadow of the Palace. It was an enormous structure, several miles in diameter and spiraling up into infinity. The pit in my stomach grew.
"I'll let them decide," I said.
"Okay, I'll let them know." Imogen pulled her cellphone out of her pocket and sent a quick text. Then she hit a button on the dash I hadn't noticed earlier and the car started to rise. We were flying!
The car tilted back and shot up toward the Palace. For the second time I felt like I was going to throw up. Great.
We suddenly flew through a relatively small opening in the wall and skidded to a stop on a laminated floor about three yards from a desk. We got out and Imogen motioned for me to sit at the desk.
Lights suddenly flashed and I heard a jazz band somewhere playing a cheesy tune. The massive room was illuminated, showing an assortment of people all chatting excitedly. Some looked human while others... not so much.
A small man in a top hat and a robe with white wings poking out his back flew to the middle of the room. Alighting on the floor, he pulled a microphone from who knows where. He put it up to his mouth.
"Welcome gods and goddesses to the Auction of the Soul of Greg Masters," he said in a singsong voice. "We will start the bidding at ten souls."
"Ten thousand souls!"
"Fifteen thousand souls!"
Twenty thousand!"
"Twenty-two thousand!"
"Twenty-five!"
"Thirty!"
I sighed. This was going to take a while. | 2014-12-01T07:14:28 | 2014-12-01T00:07:50 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] The Distant Future. The vampires have risen and taken most of the world. Humanity's last refuge is Africa: where the rain itself is holy water, having been blessed long ago by the vampire hunters of Toto. | It was the seventh day in which the rain fell strongest. A ceaseless downpour of holy death laying across our sacred land, acting as a barricade from the invading heathens. It should have been a night darker than the soul of the oldest vampire, and yet the rain blessed us in more way than one.
For seven days they had attempted to seige us, taking a few of the outer cities initially. We didn't even bother to reclaim them before starting the prayers-- everybody knows what happens to a city captured by Frennishmen. They'll be burned later, once we fend off this attack.
Lord above only knows why they're doing it. My beloved Freya thinks it's because they're desperate and hungry, since humanity hid itself away in the last safe place it had. They've run out of people to slaughter and now they're making a final suicide charge to either eat or die. But me? No, I don't buy it. Those fuckers are smart, I know for a fact they're breeding humans to eat. Maybe that's not quite enough, but personally, my wager is that it's just in their tainted blood. They can't have a place like this stand, spurning their pride as superior, knowing so many of us thrive and live happy, full lives. It sickens them.
Good. Come, my evil, my forsaken, my hungry and depraved unwanted. Salvation in cleansing awaits you.
It's hard to see through the blinding light of this rain, but with our shaded scopes the outlines of a few metal beasts have become visible. They think protection on the way here will save them from God's wrath, but have they thought it through? Have they realized they cannot fight under those canopies, and within our kingdom, there are no awnings? Our sheltered areas for homes have retractable rooftops, to rejoice when the Lord opens the sky for us to weep at how far this Earth has fallen, and we seek to be cleansed. It is proof we are worthy when we do not burn.
They will learn that the rains down in Africa are blessed when it melts their flesh and mars their precious bones-- I prefer to wear the fangs that have been baptized by light, anyway.
Here I stand at the wall's edge, leading my men. The siege of our most holy city has begun, and I see now they're wearing metallic ponchos. A cute invention on Enrir's part, I admit, but they do not know. They see food perched on these parapets, because their minds are shallow and their faith ash, but we are not meals.
Had they read the scriptures, they would understand.
There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do.
-----
*/r/resonatingfury* | It's been 49 days. 49 days of assaults, 49 days of brain-washed minions, 49 days of out future attempts to battle their bizarre vampire magic. My mother has fallen ill since their attacks, and neither I nor my father knows what to do.
We've gathered to an outpost in Egypt. It's only on the edge of what counts as Africa, but thankfully it still rains holy water here. The village around us is depending on us to defeat the local leader of the vampires.
We lie on the border: if we wall, it'll activate a whole cell of undefended inner cities. We can't let that happen. We all know it.
And here they are. The army of the damned. Each and every one of them corrupted from the blood of their leader. If he falls, they all should be heavily weakened. It sounds easy, but we've learned fast that he's no easy target.
As the cocky bastard walks over the hill, full moon on his back, one of our men fires a silver-lined shot. He swipes quickly, as effortlessly as if swatting a fly. Not even a scratch on his hand as the bullet reflects straight into the sand in a plume.
"Worth a shot." The gunner mumbles. The villagers tense up as they realize the futility of their firearms.
"Toto, how do you plan on beating a monster; no, a god... like him?"
Inside, I get a tugging feeling. I know I can live up to the name they've come to revere. But this vampire, he's no standard grunt. He's the strongest as they come, maybe even ever. No one has ever reported anyone nearly as strong as him.
"It's simple," Thankfully, my confidence perfectly masked my concern.
"I've got people to save, and a mother to cure."
"I, Totaro, will not fall this day."
As Totaro leaves the town border, the vampire leader is heard in the distance, taunting our lone hero in a twisted, menacing voice.
"Oh, you're approaching me? Instead of running away, you're coming right to me?"
Totaro stands strong and tall, meeting the god eye to eye.
"I can't beat the shit out of you without getting closer." | 2019-05-29T17:19:18 | 2019-05-29T16:54:39 | 328 | 65 |
[WP] Nuclear holocaust is imminent. The rich and powerfull are hiding away in their bunkers, but when the countdown was finished the world was still there. One message was sent around the world via satellites: "Now They have imprisoned Themselves what shall We do?" With coords of all the bunkers.. | *I take a sip of my red wine, grinning to myself as the timer had finally stopped. Just as I predicted, showing everyone on the most live of feeds, the rich and the powerful gave in, inviting absolutely nobody but themselves into their bunkers, hiding away in things which they did not create and yet took the effort which was needed to make it for granted.*
*But I’d show them. I would show them, as would the rest of the world.*
“Now they have imprisoned themselves. What shall we do?”
*My right hand had asked me, her voice as cold and monotone as mine was filled with malice and hatred for the powers that be which would have completely destroyed this world had I not taken the, ironically, nuclear approach.*
“We will take their assets and redistribute them all around, and we will no longer have a world with the greedy, the soulless, the corrupt. I’ll be the new monster of this world, and I will rid the world of every monster that exists. I have the power to now with their, generous donation.”
*The woman looked beside me and nodded, simply turning around and performing the actions along with the rest of my team for the wealth transfer. As for them, it was obvious what happened to them when the black button was pressed.*
“I’ll give the world their revelation.” | No one actually trusted them.
Once the ruse was discovered, people did as people would... and helped them.
Millions of people died in the fear and panic caused by the Terrorists; mothers smothering infants in the fear of immenity death, sucide pacts signed in the last minute, and riots across the world in fear of a death that would never come...
all because someone wanted to prove a POINT, they ended up harming the ones they claimed to care about...
After they were caught, tried and imprisoned, society realized that they had created an atmosphere of terror... So the people of the world got together and fully destroyed all nuclear weapons. the fear of the atomic bomb died alongside those who carelessly weaponized it for their sick political aim | 2022-07-18T18:23:41 | 2022-07-18T17:54:11 | 33 | 13 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | I always thought I would die from being stabbed in the back by a dirty, dull knife. Some sort of poetic justice, if you will, at least regarding the stabbing. My knives were always sharp.
When they brought me to court, they told me that it was magic--out of the realms of a simpleton rogue like me. They waved a wand at me and told me that I couldn't lie, even if I wanted to. So when they asked why I did what I did, the answer was simple and truthful:
"Because it paid well."
Though a little half-hearted, it was with no less candour. Gold was necessary for survival, but it's a little strange how the most important thing in my life wasn't necessary. In demand, but not needed.
I was sentenced to death. I had no letters to send, no people to speak to. That suited me just fine. This was already more dignity than I was used to.
I thought the end of all that would be a noose. A vial of poison. The swing of an axe.
"Sybil Harper," the burly man in a black hood pointed to the woman in front of me, who stepped forward with impunity. "How would you like to die?"
"Of old age," she said.
The executioner brought out a wand, comically undersized in his large, meaty hands. But he was learned, magic-touched--and with an incantation and a bright streak of purple, I saw the half-elf's hair go from black to grey to white, her ears drooping, her height diminishing, and her confident poise hunchbacking.
With that, old Sybil Harper hobbled one, two steps, before collapsing onto the floor. When they turned her around, there was a toothless smile on her face.
"Ged Ruell," the headsman said now, and I gulped, my mind turned around in an instant. "How would you like to die?"
"Doing what I love," I said.
The wand came out, once more, and this time, a fiery red beam unleashed itself upon me. I struggled with its power, forcing my eyes entirely close, but eventually, calm washed upon me like familiar ocean waves lapping at my feet.
I opened my eyes, vision lit again, slightly obscured at the sides with black, and with the sight of my dead body on the floor. It was dragged away swiftly, without honour or respect.
I could not hear my own thoughts. Now, it felt like I was drowning, my thoughts swirling into a perpetual maelstrom, unable to keep my head above water, oppresive dark cloud and shrieking thunder blackening every sense.
"Elliot Cobbett," the words came out, not entirely of my own volition. I watched my hands point to another man in the line. "How would you like to die?"
"Quickly," he replied.
The hand dropped once more. Instead of a thin wand, the hand encircled a familiar, leather-wrapped handle. And in a stormburst, the clouds cleared, and one thought rang true.
"With pleasure," I said.
---
r/dexdrafts | The line had been excruciatingly long, almost unbearably so. Prisoner number after prisoner number was called, each time slowly getting closer to the one that I held. We were given numbers at the start, much like we were just waiting in line at the DMV or at the doctor's office. If only this was as nice of a scenario. I listened to each prisoner list out how they wanted to go, most said something along the lines of what I had planned for, lethal injection. Fast and moderately painless was all I could hope for.
*Prisoner number 2754920, please step forward*. I was next, and I was bored, so rather than continue counting the audience members, I listened in on this guy's conversation with the judge.
"How do you wish to die today, sir?"
"I wish to die of old age."
I was floored, stunned. No one had said anything like that before. I watched as before my eyes he was turned into an old man, dying of old age just as he had asked. *Shit*, I thought. *We can wish for stuff like that?*
"Your wish has been granted. Carry on. Next is prisoner number 2754921, please step forward and state how you wish to die today."
I was frozen, unable to move. What do I do now? My plan crumbled before me as I watched an old man be helped out of the courtroom.
"Prisoner number 2754921, if you do not step forward, a death will be assigned to you, and I guarantee it will be less pleasant than what you have envisioned for yourself."
I felt a guard shove his gun into my back, pushing me towards the center of the court. I moved what felt like legs of lead and feet of cement, inching closer towards the marked destination. Suddenly, an idea popped into my head, a way to cheat the system, and it was as if all the weight fell off of me at once. Everyone had chosen a realistic death, but if I were to choose something unrealistic, surely magic had it's limitations.
"How do you wish to die today, young one?"
A dream I had had since a child, being a pirate and dying a way only heard in tales. "I wish to die at sea from the beast, the Kraken," I stated, stifling a laugh.
"Your wish has been granted. Next is prisoner number 2754922, please step forward and state how you wish to die today."
*I thought there were no limitations, but I was soon to find out just how wrong I was as I was led towards a door that smelled of the sea.* | 2021-06-24T09:55:49 | 2021-06-24T03:42:17 | 803 | 66 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | The Princess noticed the knight's glistening armor long before he reached the keep. She walked down the stairs and into the courtyard to greet him, as she had done with so many before.
"Sir knight," she exclaimed, "present yourself."
The knight dismounted, drew his blade and knelt before The Princess, offering his steel in service. "I am Sir Peta, here to end the misery of the dragon."
Misery? That's a new one, thought The Princess. "Has word not reached the stronghold? I have no need for your services."
*So it's true,* Sir Peta muttered under his breath. Then louder, "My apologies, my lady. I am not from the stronghold."
"Too many knights have come here in their noble stupidity, determined to slay the dragon and rescue me from its 'misery,' as you so oddly put it. Are you all idiots," The Princess asked? "Do you really believe I could live in this keep for years, with a dragon in the tower, if the situation is as you all believe it? Do you know nothing of dragons?"
Sir Peta rose, sword at his side, and spoke. "I know quite a lot about dragons, in fact. I know they are intelligent, noble beasts that are fiercely territorial," he replied. "No doubt it is as you say, my lady. If the dragon was able to bring harm to you, it surely would've done so by now."
This exasperated The Princess. "Then why, clever Sir Peta, did you come here to rescue me?"
"You misunderstand, dear Princess." She felt the tip of his cold steel, and something else - nightshade, perhaps - before he had finished the sentence."I am not here to rescue *you*."
With one more upward thrust, the job was done. He felt a blast of air as the dragon arrived and perched on the wall. It looked down on the scene. Sir Peta dropped to a knee.
"The binding spell is broken, friend," spoke the knight. "Be free." With that, the dragon alighted into the sky. Within seconds it was a mere speck in the distance, no bigger than a crow.
Sir Peta cleaned his blade and called his mount. There was talk of a duke that kept a caged chimera to impress the other nobility. The knight's work was never done.
- - - - - - - - - -
*edit: mobile formatting* | April 5: I've finished digging the moat and the crocodiles have already moved in, fantastic.
4/6: me and Chico both had a good hard laugh when this suited up loser got devoured. all those dollars for armor but zero sense. I saddled up Chico and we flew to Halfordshire for some juicy lambs, dined and dashed because the rancher's son had to be a hero, a roasted hero.
4/12: we really did it this time. we took a wrong turn on our trip to Salisburg and flew over the city with THE MOST bravado in the world. I didn't notice it until after we landed for water but entire mobs of knights riding freaking armored elephants with flaming level 80 magma spears swarmed the north and south. No doubt a coordinated offensive involving the northern settlement which apparently excelled in training attack hyenas . "Aid in my liberating of this divine maiden from her foul warden, oh formidable kinsmen." said this overly rich snob bag in gold armor. No doubt the task master or mayor. Unfortunately for them metal armor is perfect for cooking the dragon food inside and Chico ate well....too well, I'm afraid Chico must go on a diet, he can't even take flight. Been trying to make him go vegan for a while, just can't find a place with adequate barrel sizes of soy milk. Getting frustrated.
5/18 Chico lost 875 lbs since 4/20, not reaching his goal yet.
5/22 Chico relapsed, not good. I woke up with him gone from his stable and evidence of a massive battle took place at the castle gates, swords, spears, bows and arrows, blood everywhere. But no bodies, except that of a fat dragon passed out in the middle of the scene. I scolded him, I made him sleep outside, he knows what he did. | 2019-01-09T13:25:46 | 2019-01-09T11:44:13 | 37 | 21 |
[WP] Every human born is given a card with a date on it, which is the date of their death. Green text means your death will be natural, while red text means unnatural. You are the first person ever given a card with blue text.
Wow, great stories everyone! I keep checking them between breaks at work, so sorry for missing some individually. These are some cool reads so far and I'll continue to check them until I can get home. | I stared at the thin slip of paper in my hand. Never had this happened before. I have heard of and seen many things in my life, but this was something I never would have expected.
Every person receives a card on their 18th birthday, sometimes left in the mail, or delivered at your door. My friend had gotten his a month ago, and it told him the sad truth that he would die on September 8th, 2025, in red text. Two days ago, he was hit in a head-on collision with a drunk driver and died a few hours later in the hospital. Today is September 10th, my birthday. I thought I was prepared for anything. I could not have been more wrong.
I've been living alone in a rough neighborhood. My parents had both died, my father when I was little, my mother recently. Seeing as they knew the date of their death they put in all their last efforts to make enough money for me to inherit so I could live comfortably for however long I was given. My mother didn't make much, but she worked her heart out in her last year to do whatever she could for me. I will always be grateful for her despite her overprotective nature she held over me, and her attempts to control my decisions. She always just trying to keep me safe.
However, I am, and always have been, a broken man. Things in my life have hardened me far enough where I felt nothing at my friend's funeral. Not a single tear or any identifiable sadness. Just a cold, hard feeling of constant misery and suffering - something that has been plaguing me ever since I can remember. Last year I was diagnosed with depression, but it never came as a surprise. I promised myself to keep going for my mother's sake so she would think I was happy before she died. I didn't want her to know I was considering leaving this corrupt world by my own means.
When I opened the mailbox and pulled out the unlabeled envelope, I fully expected to see a date that was very, very soon, in red text. That, I figured, would be the day I decide to end it all. If I tried to commit suicide earlier, I wouldn't be able to die. If I didn't commit suicide on the date given to me, something would happen that would kill me anyway. People have tried both - they never escape the date given to them. Expecting the red text, I opened up the letter, dreading whatever was coming. More than anything, I was fearful of green text. I did not want to be trapped in this world any longer.
So there I was, staring at the card. It would either be red, or green. There were no other options. The date on the card read September 10th, 2007 - the day I was born. Even stranger was that the text was neither red or green, but blue.
I went to see the doctor and showed him the card. Normally, people don't share their date to others, and many tear their card up rather than reading it. But this was something that had never happened before, and I needed to know if the doctor knew what it meant. What did it mean I would die 18 years ago, the day I was born? Why was the text blue, and not red or green? The doctor stared at the card for what seemed like an eternity. "It can't be possible," he mumbled to himself as he grabbed a book and began flipping through the pages.
"What does this mean, doc?" I asked him worriedly. I did not fear death - I feared life. My worst fears were about to come true.
"I have never seen anything like this before," he replied breathlessly. He simply could not explain it.
I went home and looked at my desk. The gun I had been hiding from my mother for years stared at me. I picked it up and stared at it, thinking of what my card meant. There was only one way to find out. I fired the gun and collapsed to the floor. The pain was monumental. But I was alive - fully conscious and alive. I jumped off a cliff, got myself hit by a truck, poisoned myself, and attempted suicide so many times over the next few days. After all these attempts, and staying alive, I finally realized the truth of what the card meant.
I was immortal.
Why me? | The noise rung in my ear, like a church bell on a Sunday afternoon. At any other time the loud noise would bother me and make me shout ‘shut up!’ In my mind, but this day was different. The loud excited chattering of the group next to me made me anxious but exited also.
Would I be a green card or red? Would it even matter? I doubted this whole thing. Even if I did get a green card, I could still die young. Cancer, liver disease, diabetes; all the possibility of the green card made me realize how stupid this all was. This card was worthless. Natural or not, you can still die young.
“James Netzley?”
My name was called by the strawberry blonde nurse wearing her snow-white coat. I never understood why young people went through the trouble of dying their hair a color that they weren’t born with. People should embrace what there genes provide them. But, who am i to judge her. She has a successful job and a fat diamond ring on her hand. I on the other hand am barely making ten USD an hour and just lost my girlfriend of two years a month ago.
I got up and walked over to the nurse. She had that fake customer service smile on her face. I know that smile all to well.
She directed me to a eggshell white room with a little, uncomfortable bed with the white thin paper laying across. I hopped on and the freshly crinkled paper stuck to my hands, as the sweat began to form on my palms.
“The doctor will be with you in a minute with your test results.”
She shut the door and left. Leaving me with the ticking of the clock and the crinkle underneath me. New doubts started forming in my mind. What if this only makes me more paranoid? What if this result holds me back? Is it to late to leave?
The door opened and I was greeted by a short man. Brown hair and dressed like the nurse. Except these weren’t scrubs. This wasn’t a normal doctors office. This was the research lab.
He handed me my envelope with a concerned look on his face.
“Look doc, even if it is a red dot, it doesn’t mean a green dot would be any better. A green dot could mean I get cancer at a young age or something. I’m sure you have seen a few red dots already, so don’t look at me with pity, alright?”
“It’s not that. Just open the envelope and see for yourself.”
Strange. Why would he be so concerned? It’s only a dot in the end right? Green or red; those are my options.
I opened the white paper containing my results. And behold a color unknown to the thin sheet of wood in my hand.
“Blue? I don’t understand. Isn’t there supposed to be two colors? Red and green if I am not mistaken?”
He was struggling with the expressions he was showing. Than he opened his mouth, but the words coming from his mouth did not belong to him. Sounds coming from his mouth. Yelling.... crying..... what is going on. My vision fizzled out.
After the darkness started to fade, light started pouring in. I awoke and realized the doctor wasn’t real. That whole thing never happened. I woke up in my own car. Smoke bellowing out. Warmth, fire, and the smell of burning flesh. The blue dot was my death. Red means you will die Unnaturally, but the blue means you are dying. At this moment I am dying. The fire scorching me.
But that’s not the only thing I remembered from that dream. I remember you were there. I was waiting for my turn while you walked out. You looked confused. I though the test messed up when you came out with a blue dot. I guess you can say we both should have enjoyed life more. | 2019-05-15T08:56:55 | 2019-05-15T05:49:54 | 147 | 17 |
[WP] You have died. You walk up a staircase and it takes you a thousand years to climb. You reach the top exhausted, and see the pearly gates. To your surprise, they have rusted over and inside is completely barren. A sign reads "Welcome to heaven. Population: 1" | To my surprise, the stairway to heaven was excruciatingly literal. I lost track of how long it took to get to the top, but it didn't really matter. Without the assistance of a bright sun to light the day or a moon and stars to illuminate the dark night, time itself was incalculable. One foot in front of the other, I climbed the stairs for an eternity. Although at this point I was out of my body, I still felt the limitations of having one. The one thing that kept me climbing was the thought of seeing my family and friends again, who I had all outlived from my decades of marathon running.
When I reached the top, I dropped on my knees, Heaven looked like an unimaginable utopian beauty. Buildings appeared to be made of solid gold. The sky was a deeper blue than the bluest sky on Earth. Light radiated from inside the gates, warmly inviting me as I stood up and strolled past the gate. I walked around for a bit, trying to take it all in. There were no words to describe the golden edifices or the jewel-encrusted trees.
I had spent most of my life worrying if I would get into heaven when I died. Although I told people that I did not believe in God, or any god for that matter, I recited a short prayer every night to calm the fear that persisted in the back of my mind that God was real.
"Those prayers must have paid off", I muttered to myself as I strolled past a garden that housed plants that I had never seen before.
Heaven was every bit as ravishing as I had imagined, but there was one problem. I had not seen a single soul yet. Was everyone asleep?
After spending what felt like hours wandering through the endless streets, I began to call out for my family.
"Mom?! Dad?!" I yelled. There was no answer except the echoing of my voice off of the buildings. I began to run; there had to be people somewhere, right? There were many people who I could think of that deserved to be in heaven much more than I did. Where was Martin Luther King Jr., or Moses? Where the hell was Stan Lee?
Eventually, I came across a grandiose red throne that to competed with the size of the empire state building. On the throne sat someone whose size fit the throne perfectly. Other than his size, this being did not appear any differently than an old man on Earth, with frail limbs and the last remnants of gray hair on a balding scalp. He appeared to be in a stupor and did not notice me as I approached, as his chin rested on the palm of his hand and his gaze transfixed toward the ambiguous horizon.
"God?!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. The being did not seem to believe what he had heard at first. His eyes squinted as he tried to focus in on me. He wiped off the reading glasses that he was wearing and put them back on.
"Finally, someone has come to take my place!", the old being's voice sounded labored.
"Where is my family?" I asked, ignoring his previous statement.
"Well, considering the fact that no one else has made the 1,000-year climb, I would say that they are in hell."
"They're in hell, they were such good people! Why am I here and they aren't?"
"It doesn't matter how good of a person you were- if you can't make the climb, you don't get into heaven."
I could not believe what I was hearing. This entire afterlife was only won through a nearly-impossible physical test, and not any amount of good deeds or moral compass. It couldn't be right, it didn't *feel* right.
"I want to go to hell," I told the being
"It's too late for that, son. I need to rest and there needs to be someone to take over and wait for the next soul to complete the climb."
I screamed and ran towards the gate. I had to get back outside, and if I could jump off of the staircase there would be a chance of falling into hell. I made my way towards the gate. the old being let out a laugh that sounded like thunder and echoed through the streets. Eventually, the gate was in sight, but it began to close.
"NO!" I begged. I could not bear to spend my eternity alone. The gate closed fully and made a sound that indicated that it had locked. I was stuck for eternity, or at least until someone else could complete the 1,000-year climb.
"Welcome to heaven. Population: 1!" the old being chuckled as he disappeared from space.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And now I wait. I roam the streets, I stare up at the sky, but there is nothing, and nobody, here for me. I am waiting for someone else to enter heaven hoping to find their family. I will not show them mercy, just as God did not show me any. | *Hey! You there. Welcome! Welcome to Heaven. You made it, you lived your live valiantly/humbly/ and or religiously and now you get to inherited the kingdom of heaven.*
**Um...excuse but where is everybody. Took me a thousand years to climb those steps and quite frankly I a bit disappointed...and yes, before you ask I counted**
*Name please!*
**My name?**
*Yes your name!*
**Monty...sir and If I may inquire**
*Surname!*
**Um...its Pipman sir and if I may just inquire about the current state of heaven**
*Ah yes! Monty Pipman of Yorkshire died of dysentery. Died on the shitter. A shitty way to go*
**Well now there is no need for that**
*No need for what?*
**Well...no need to state how I died, I just spent a thousand years of my life...I just spent a thousand years of my death climbing those spiral stairs and I am still a bit embarrassed about how I ended my time back on earth. I would appreciate it if you kept a bit more...confidential and professional**
*NO MATTER! You did not make it in*
**Did not make it in?**
*Indeed*
**As in there?**
*Indeeed*
**In heaven?**
*Indeeeed*
**Well why not?**
*Because you have sinned!*
**No I haven't**
*Yes you have*
**Have I?**
*Indeeeeeeeed*
**Alright then, lets have at it. How have I sinned**
*You are guilty of 7 out of 7 of the deadly sins.*
*You are found guilty of lust*
**Oh come on...**
*What happens in Vegas, Monty, I get to see*
**Did you just wink at me?**
*Indeeeeeeeeeeed*
**No man don't do that why would you-**
*I must say I don't believe the donkey recovered*
**OK! Enough**
*Shall I go into your more intimate sins*
**No...Next...next sin please**
*You are found guilty of Gluttony*
**Alright, so I like to eat. Order a large instead of a medium hardly worth going to hell over**
*You like to eat too much Monty, you're a bit...flabby around the waste. You know you should really think about cutting down on carbs-*
**A bit late now don't you think. I already died**
*Yes of dysentery*
**OK!**
*Was probably the Chipoltle*
**Really?**
*Should of watch your carbs*
**Next!**
*Greed!*
**Doubt it, I donate to the homeless shelter every christmas-**
*Taking excessive napkins at fast food restaurants*
**Seriously?**
*Chipoltle to be exact. After your large meals. Was it to help with the dysentery?*
**You can't be serious.**
*Sloth!*
**...**
*You hate Mondays!*
**I fucken hate you...I really do**
*Wrath! Telling the gate keeper of heaven that you loathe them for denying you entry to the kingdom of heaven. Out of anger you have hurt the gate keepers feelings*
**I just can't win. Hey there is at least one soul in there says so on the sign. What's his name?**
*Her name is Susan*
**Yeah well FUCK YOU SUSAN! Why does she get in and I don't. What makes that prick such a saint!**
*ENVY! Jealously towards Susan for having entry to the kingdom of heaven*
**I'm already out. I'm already condemned to hell. A thousand years of stairs wasted. Sent right back down-**
*Pride!*
**Don't even bother, I'm leaving.**
*...well I got nothing on Pride. You seem to be most dissatisfied with your life. I'm terribly sorry it seems it was 6 out of 7 hard to believe a man of your stature would be proud of anything he's done. I mean you died of dysentery...*
**...K well, I'm gonna go burn in hell now**
*Oh be sure to take the elevator, the line into hell is quite long with a average wait time of a thousand years just to get through the queue. Would hate to prolong your suffering.*
**\*sigh**
&#x200B; | 2018-12-17T08:59:28 | 2018-12-17T07:30:17 | 165 | 51 |
[WP] Germany is actually predestined to lose every world war it participates in. The sixteenth world war is now being fought, and Germany has taken over all of Europe. Make them lose the war in the most ridiculous way possible. | General Beck burst into the mess hall and swept his gaze across the startled soldiers. They had been drinking, celebrating the surrender of France, and the apparent end of the war. But they didn't know about the curse. Few but the inner circle did. Germany must fall.
The men quickly stood at attention, as well as they could half drunk. "Germany," Beck began, "Is no more. Or rather, soon to be no more." The looks of confusion deepened.
"The council has debated and spoken. This is now the Empire of Neo-Germania-except-for-Private-Klaus."
The looks aroubd the room made it clear who Private Klaus was.
"Klaus, the council decided every german citizen was to freely and automatically become a citizen of the EONGEFPK. Except, obviously, for you. Young man, I'm sorry, but you are the last German."
"But how can one man be a country?" Klaus asked.
"I didn't write the rules, I only subvert them" replied the general, drawing his pistol. With a sharp bang, all of the remaining German forces were wiped from the Earth, finally ending the war. | The year is 2564. I am the last man on earth. The world was slowly ending and we knew it. What remains of humankind is settled on Mars, minus the Germans. World War XVI had taken its toll, but what we had never expected was how the war ended. Out of nowhere, with no warnings, Mauna Loa erupted for the first time since 1984. The worlds' largest volcano, yet many had never heard of it. It released a measured 20,000 cubic kilometers of debris. The atmosphere was obliterated, and humanity was wiped out within a week. World War XVI was finished, but nobody had wished for it like this. | 2017-08-18T05:03:51 | 2017-08-18T00:11:45 | 1,294 | 44 |
[WP] "You can’t truly call yourself “peaceful” unless you are capable of great violence. If you’re not capable of violence, you’re not peaceful, you’re harmless. A very important distinction. " Our first contacts were harmless, those met later couldn't tell the difference. | "Lieutenant, report."
"Sir. I believe my recon mission was successful. I have gauged the Trilthe's forces to the best of my ability. Their army is for show. Ceremonial. They have no hidden troops, they don't have minutemen civilians based on the ruckus a team made on the ground and the lackluster response. Their weaponry is subpar. They have energy sources to rival our own nuclear reactors, but no records of them ever using this technology in a means of war. They would be effective area of effect targets for us to lightly explode, at the worst. Possibly were given to them by the oh so charitable Vatriaen, based on the lack of technological advancement everywhere else.
"Their culture is of amnity. Cooperation. Talking with a civilian confirmed what I got from their archives, that they are terrified of conflict. They seem to have become the dominate species solely due to a biological evolution saving them from their last mass extinction event. They have apparent non-sentient creatures on their planet called umes, creatures no more harmful than a housecat, but feared as if they were venomous, flying bears. If they ever had to fight eachother using wit or endurance or weaponry, the housecats would have won.
"If we are to engage them, simply fluffing our tails and barring our teeth, so to speak, will send them running.
"The Trilthe are not a threat."
"But, their message said they are peaceful?"
"I know. The translator must have had a hiccup." | One of the greatest lessons I learned as a warrior-diplomat was the importance of the eyes within conversation and confrontation. When at the state of mind that is normally seen as a calm awareness, your eyes are to be soft but not vulnerable; relaxed but not lazy; thoughtful but not dreaming. This is to create ease in the other without letting them underestimate you.
However, there are cases where the foolish do underestimate you since as a peaceful negotiator, you carry no blade nor arrow, no poison nor flammable. The handling of no weapons should built a mutual trust between the two, where peace shall prosper within.
Some, in my years, believed that would create not a steady peace, but an advantage; they believed me incapable of defense, an exploitable being that can be used to enact their “peace”.
If they do not understand what the distinction between true peace and true harmlessness is, then you show them. Show the importance of your eyes, set them hard and indifferent, a steel against their wood. And so lay waste to their armies and blaze the infinite horizon so they can not run; show them that peace will depend on your sight, and never theirs. | 2021-10-04T22:00:11 | 2021-10-04T19:13:46 | 283 | 126 |
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again | I died choking on lunch in my office. Ironic, because we’d just spent the Friday two weeks ago going over CPR and first aid procedures, but obviously that didn’t do much good. I suppose I could have done more to help myself - I have my own office, so there was no one there to see me clutching at my throat. I could have taken the few steps into the hallway, but I didn’t. I stood at my desk and tried to lodge the cucumber (cucumber! What a waste!) out by slamming myself against the top of my office chair.
Eventually, things just went black. When I came to, he was standing there, brandishing a clip board. “All right,” he said. “Ready to go?”
He didn’t fit any of the depictions of himself I’d seen on tv, but I knew right away who he was. That’s how it is with those in power though. They certainly don’t need a name tag.
I looked at my half finished salad on my desk, on top of the stack of paperwork I needed to have done for the audit next week. My boss had been in this same office just hours before, squeezing the bridge of her nose, telling me how stressed everyone was and how important finishing up those files was.
I was saying the words before I’d even thought them through - “Maybe I could just have a little extra time? To finish this up?”
Death made a mark on his clipboard and shrugged his shoulders. In a blink, he was gone. I sat back down at my desk and finished my salad.
A month later, I was fairly certain I’d fallen asleep at my desk. The cucumber that had been lodged in my throat never came out, so it made sense I’d imagined it all. By six months, I was sure it had just been a dream. I hadn’t been getting good sleep, anyway, pulling extra hours to get everything done.
A year later, though, he came again. Same clipboard. “Are you ready?”
I shook my head. Motioned to my desk again - “It seems it never stops piling up, doesn’t it?”
Death made another mark and an expression I couldn’t place. Annoyance? Pity? Again, he was gone in a blink.
And so it happened, year in and year out. He’d always show up and ask if I was ready, and I’d always point out the stack of paperwork on my desk and tell him not quite.
According to my calendar, he should be here in just a few moments. I stayed late all last week getting everything ready. I suppose after so many years, the curiosity has got the better of me.
He arrives right on time. Pulls out his clipboard, asks the standard question. This time, I put the note I wrote to my boss on my desk and stand up. “All right,” I say. “I’m ready to die.”
Death marks his clipboard and reaches one hand out to me and places it on my shoulder. “You’re ready to go now, you mean” he says. “You’ve been dead for twenty six years. Since you choked on that cucumber.”
I don’t understand what he means. Death can see my obvious confusion, and explains further: “You died the first time I came for you. You left earth as you know it at that time. You just weren’t ready to move on. You’ve been here, working away, ever since.”
“What do you mean? I’ve been here, everything has been the same. My coworkers, the Chinese food delivery guy, it’s all been there.”
“A representation of it has. But not the real people. This work, it’s not real, of course.” With a wave of his hand, the papers on my desk started to disappear. Another wave, and my desk was gone. Then the walls. Then the ceiling and the floor until we were standing in nothing.
Death pushes me forward. “You’re ready now, though” he says. “That’s all that matters.” | *I stood in a white void facing a hooded figure, confused and somewhat scared.*
*“Where am I?” I asked the figure. “Are you the grim reaper?”*
*“Yep. I’m sorry to say this, man, but, well, you’re dead. You really should have looked both ways before you crossed that busy street...” He replied, shrugging.*
*“Damn, really? That’s so lame...” I groaned. “Man, I haven’t even gotten laid yet. This is so uncool...”*
*“Yeah, well, that’s life for ya.” He chuckled, extending his pale hand towards me. “Ready to head up to heaven?”*
*“Nah.” I replied, looking at him right where I thought his eyes would be under his hood.*
*“Wait, seriously?” He seemed taken aback.*
*“Yeah.”*
*“Oh, uh, okay. Shit, I’ve never had anyone say no before. Guess I’ll just send you back...” He snapped his fingers, and I found myself lying in a hospital bed, covered in bandages and IV tubes. My girlfriend began crying into my chest when she saw that I had woken up...*
Every year after that fateful day, the Grim Reaper would come and visit me wherever I was. He always came at the most inopportune times, always asking me if I wanted to go to heaven. Once, he popped into existence in my bedroom while my girlfriend and I were ‘busy’. Another year, he interrupted me while I was in the middle of a job interview. He even caused my poor mother to have a heart attack when he appeared during Thanksgiving dinner. After that particular incident, I decided that enough was enough.
One night, after my girlfriend was asleep, he appeared to me in my living room, where I was waiting for him with a bottle of beer.
“Hey, man. Are you finally ready to go?”
“The answer’s still no, brah. I have a pretty bomb-ass life right now, but there is one thing that I don’t like about it, and that’s you. You keep annoying the shit out of me every year with that same damn question, man, and the answer’s always gonna be no.” I took a swig of my beer.
“I see. Why don’t I just make you immortal, then?” He asked me. “Then you’ll never have to see me again. Granted, I don’t know if you’d want to-“
“Do it.” I interrupted him demandingly. “Do whatever you need to do, as long as you stay the hell outta my life.”
“Alright. Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you...” He snapped his fingers again, vanishing from my life for the last time.
Not long after he vanished, the world fell into utter chaos. All the global tension that had been building up since before I was born had finally reached a boiling point, and every country on earth was obliterated in a horrible nuclear firestorm in a matter of hours. I could only stare in horror at the destruction and death that occurred around me as all my loved ones and the rest of planet earth were atomized out of existence.
Once the bombs stopped falling, I was alone. Alone on a desolate hellscape that I used to call home, with nobody to talk to except myself. Everyone I knew and loved was dead, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
“I shoulda said yes...” | 2019-04-16T13:05:03 | 2019-04-16T11:45:19 | 67 | 30 |
[WP] The castle is stormed and ruffians run about through the halls. The young prince hides in the kitchen, but is found. Now all that stands between him and his would be assassins is the castle cook. She twirls a steak knife in her hand and squares off against the invaders. | The voice was sharp. “What in Hel’s name are you doing in MY KITCHEN?”
The scullions knew that tone and scrambled away from the cook before moving away from the lightly armored men who had chased the Prince of the Realm through the servants’ door. It had already been a day of trying to not have that voice turned towards the staff as preparations for the welcoming feast for the emissary was underway. The men who bared weapons in the royal kitchens now had all of her attention.
Her attention. The cook who had fought her way up the ranks over the years, now the lead in the kitchen for the royal presence after retiring from one service into another. Every day was a battle, but she had not had one come to her this directly for years.
The Prince, half-dressed in the finery that was supposed to be on him for the reception of the foreign group, skittered and fell on his ass in front of the cook. “They! They!” was all he could get out. There was a glance down to him from the cook and he saw both a grimness and a gleam in her eyes.
The sound of the steak knife coming out of the wooden block at the cooks side was as sharp as her voice had been. There was no banter as she stepped towards the invaders. There wasn’t a haughty pose as she picked up a long handled pot from off the coals. There wasn’t a laugh or taunt as the hot lard from the pot was thrown at the faces of the men. Action was what happened as she stepped over the boy who would be King one day to face the ones who were suspiciously dressed almost like the patrols of the castle, but without the baldric of honor that had been presented to the company just that morning.
Most of the invaders were hit with the hot fat, taking them out of the action as they clawed at the burning that would not stop. One had been able to move and only got a splash on his arm. He pushed past the screaming men around him, his lightly curved sword swinging at the cook as he moved.
It wasn’t the knife that took him down, though he was focused on it. It was the pot, hot bottom against his exposed jaw, that staggered him and then dropped him as the sound of the second hit against his head was almost covered by the splintering of the handle.
Less than five minutes for the action. She leaned against one of the counters and tried to bring her breathing under control. The real guards were coming in behind one of the staff that had the presence of mind to get them. The cook waived vaguely towards the still whimpering men.
The guards roughly picked up the men almost dressed like they and started to drag them out. The leader of the squad stopped a respectful pace away from the cook and came to attention. There was a sharp salute as he said, “General,” before following his men.
She nodded, absently rubbing a shoulder scar under her jacket as she watched them go.
The Prince was still on the floor, big eyes watching the woman towering above him. A hand was offered and he was pulled up. She pushed and turned him so she could see if there had been any real damage, and except for the tear in the tunic, the royal whelp was just dazed from the excitement, not from being roughly handled.
Hands were on the Princes shoulders, the cooks eyes looking into his. “Highness, you are well?”
He nodded and threw his arms around her. She took in a gasp of air, and took a moment before wrapping her arms around him. “Thank you Deni! Thank you!”
She nodded into his hair and kissed the top of his head. “Charles, go to the chatelaine. She will fix you up.” She felt the nod before he pulled away.
The cook closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath. She let it out and was still for a moment. Her eyes snapped open and the scullions who saw her face had wide yes themselves.
“Where is that damned bread?” | Changed it a bit, hope you dont mind.
————
“Im gonna die! Oh my god. Please dont let them kill me.”
She didnt even listen to him, she was doing a dance, sort of. She did it couple of times now. He did not know how that would be of any help.
“Why are you dancing! Are you crazy?!”
“Go stand in that corner” she said.
Young prince was confused but listened.
She continued dancing through the room, it looked like she did this before. Like it was rehearsed. She stopped and with her guard up looked at him with excitment and fire in her eyes.
“Who are you?!” the prince said.
The assassins came storming in the room, there were 4 of them at least. Big guys, prince thought this is it. He curled up in the corner. Hands on his head. He is going to die without becoming a king, without honoring his father, without fulfilling his destiny!
His thought train was stopped by her dancing. Each move, that seemed pointless before, now made sense as she slashed the assassins necks, stabbing them. Twirling and lunging towards them. The prince was mesmerized by her moves. Her dance was deadly and each strike fatal to the attackers.
The last assassin managed to move out of her synchronized dance. Its like he knew already where she would strike. He jumped to the side and removed the cloth from his face.
“Not possible!” she said out loud.
They looked at eachother. She knew him. He wasnt supposed to be here.
“John?! What are you doing here?!”
“Hades are here, we need to go. Is this him?”
“Yes. But.. ”
“No time.”
Covered in blood, he offered the prince his hand. The prince was shaking, but he noticed a weird thing on his arm, like a bracelet. He didnt give it much thought but he never saw one like that before. It was made of leather and gold, he knew every jeweler in 4 kingdoms and he was sure nobody can make one like that.
They heard a loud noise in distance.
“Guns!” she said “you cant use guns it will interfere with...”
“Guns?! Are you two crazy? What is guns?!” The prince was scared.
John looked at him with weird calmness in his eyes, then said to her:
“I know, Hades dont follow rules. Plan B?”
They all stood in a circle. Prince was trembling. He now noticed she has the same bracelet. Before he could say anything she pressed it. It started glowing. The prince felt dizzy and passed out.
He woke up with a bad headache. They were both with him, standing there. His eyes were closed but he could hear noises. He was laying in bed. He slowly opened his eyes and saw the cook. But she was now dressed differently.
“Where am i? What happened?!”
“Shhh” she said “rest”.
John raised a weird cup made out of glass, with brown liquid in it and he was in even weirder clothes. As if prince was not already confused, John, with a smirk on his face, like he did this before said:
“Welcome to the future buddy”
——————————————————
First time writing these. I would welcome any tips. Cheers.
Edit: Should i actually write part 2? | 2021-01-08T06:16:23 | 2021-01-08T04:28:42 | 327 | 47 |
[WP] You thought creating a universe would be easy. But as these pesky humans kept trying to discover the rules of their reality, you're forced to programme in more and more ridiculous mechanics like "relativity" and "quantum mechanics", hoping humans never found out that they live in a simulation. | It’s getting out of hand. These humans. They are always pushing, always trying to see further and it really is making my job difficult. I’m just a low-level simulation programmer. They don’t pay me enough for this headache.
I miss the days when the humans looked into the stars and saw their ancestors shining back at them. I miss the days when they thought the universe revolved around the earth. Do you know how easy it is to program that simulation? I was able to take breaks, watch my favorite shows. Typing in a few commands to keep everything running smoothly.
But no. Of course, the humans couldn’t stay that way. They were always hungry for knowledge. Always hungry to learn about their place in this universe and, slowly by slowly, they made my life harder.
Ptolemy, Aristotle, Copernicus, Newton. And don’t even get me started on Einstein! That human singlehandedly added at least an extra hour or two a week of programming.
And now quantum theory? String theory? Parallel universes?
I’m going to quit. I tell you, I’m going to quit. Someone else can maintain this universe. I’ll take one without humans, thank you very much. I’ve never seen such a nosy, inquisitive species in all my time as a simulation programmer.
I must admit, I admire them though. Even if they make my life a living hell, I have to hand it to them, the humans never quit trying to understand their place in this simulation. It really is quite beautiful to behold, and I wish them the best of luck.
But I still quit.
\---
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | It was fun at first, creating bullshit rules on a whim, just to enrich the lore. Then the humans started the stupid trend of 'fuck around and find out '.
I had to pull an all-nighter, cash in a favour and even ask my mom for advice. After all that I was finally ahead of the curve but unfortunately, it was not to last.
The rate at which discoveries were being made was ridiculously fast and it was only getting faster. Nowadays, every other person has a telescope, microscope or 3d printer at hand.
I have been going crazy, so much effort put into this and now I have to put in more!?
I need to stop this. I need a diversion for these hairless apes with no respect for my sleep schedule-I mean laws of nature.
Wait... I have an idea.
Pulling up my photo editing software I open up one of the images I saved. Captioning it-
"Reject science, return to monke"
I post it on Reddit. There, crisis averted. Though if this doesn't work I'll have to pull the plug on this one. | 2021-03-29T09:04:24 | 2021-03-29T08:24:53 | 548 | 308 |
[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. | I used to believe that I had a weird power. If you know about Moira from Overwatch I promise I didn’t just steal the idea from her. The game wasn’t even in concept yet at the time I believed I had this ability. Anyway, the ability I thought I had was that I could steal with my left hand and give with my right. By this I mean steal literally anything, and give literally anything. If I wanted to I could steal years of something’s life. If I wanted to I could give years of my life to something else as well. I think it was mostly the hallucinations I had most of my life that led me to believe I had this ability, but something I realized in all of my delusions was that giving isn’t necessarily good and taking isn’t really bad. If I gave you disease that would be just as bad as taking life, and if I stole your disease that would be just as good as giving you life. I don’t know what kind of thing this ability would mean in terms of my personality since anyone can give or take anything they want, but it kind of made me afraid to give or take things. I think I’ve gotten over it since, but around the time of the realization I had where giving can be just as bad as taking and taking can be just as good as giving it made me more hesitant to give people things or take things without permission. | 2020-06-15T10:58:47 | 2020-06-15T09:43:33 | 54 | 12 |
[WP] Instead of a modern adaptation of a myth, write a mythic adaptation of a modern story. | As a young man in Delphi, Gouliélmos generally rushed through lessons with his tutors in order to run outside and wrestle and throw javelins and race chariots. As a result, his standing in the academy was low, but at sport he had few equals, and this gave him great confidence and arrogance.
One day, Dionysus and Hermes, bored, descended Mount Olympus disguised as mortals and found Gouliélmos wrestling with his friends. As they arrived, Gouliélmos had just defeated one of them, and declared boastfully, "I am the greatest wrestler in western Delphi! No two of you at once could defeat me." Dionysus and Hermes stepped forward and engaged Gouliélmos, defeating him handily, and while Hermes sought only to win, Dionysus tore into his flesh.
When Gouliélmos returned home that night, his mother nearly fainted at his wounds. "You've been wrestling outside the academy again!" she cried. "And now you stagger in here half-dead, covered in blood! Delphi is no place for you. I am sending you to Byblos, where you will live with my sister Maria and her husband Philippos. There is no wrestling in Byblos."
Despondent, Gouliélmos booked passage on a carriage. When it arrived, his mood was briefly lifted by its unusual decorations, with dangling baubles and fresh paint. Though he did not know it, Hermes, who was feeling guilty for Gouliélmos' injuries, was driving the carriage. Gouliélmos, unaware of this and remembering his exile from Dephi, forgot his relief and told Hermes, "To Byblos."
Arriving in Byblos, Gouliélmos felt his spirits lift once more. Delphi was and always would be his home, but Byblos was beautiful, clean, and wealthy beyond anything he knew existed. Around 7 or 8 in the evening, his carriage pulled up in front of a grand palace of white marble. "If I must live here in exile from Delphi," thought Gouliélmos, "I shall make the most of it. My every chair shall be a throne, and I shall live as a prince."
And so went the story of the Fresh Prince of Byblos.
Edit: Gilded :o thanks! | Once upon a time, there was a man who owned a tavern with his sister. Times had been bad in the city where he lived, so he had decided to come home and live closer to his mother, who was very ill. With him, he brought the fairest princess in all the land. She had long golden hair and a radiant face, with a smile that could light up the entire room. She had married him long ago, falling in love with his laughter and the way he waltzed through life.
Bringing her home to his mother and his sister was the worst thing he could have done. The princess shrunk down and withered in the cold lands, cut off from all of her former friends and without the luxuries to which she had become accustomed. Her heart grew small and cold too, losing all the love she had once held for her husband, who had grown unfaithful.
So the princess decided to run away, and she decided to punish the man who had taken her away from her family and her riches. The golden-haired princess coloured her hair brown, and cut it, and disguised herself so that no-one would be able to tell it was her. In the cottage she shared with her unfaithful husband, she left a pool of blood and a note that painted her as a terrified wife.
The husband was suspected of killing his wife immediately, and once the townspeople discovered he was unfaithful, it was seen as certain. The princess lived amongst the common people, but was robbed and betrayed by those she trusted. She turned to the last friend that remained to her, in desperation.
The last friend betrayed her too. He tried to keep her prisoner against her will, changing her back into the princess she had originally been. Her golden hair grew back and she transformed. To escape from her captivity, she fought her friend and won.
The princess returned home to her husband, who promised to never be unfaithful again. They lived happily ever after. | 2015-06-10T10:25:42 | 2015-06-10T06:53:17 | 730 | 16 |
[WP] You have a superpower where the harder a solid is the easier it is for you to break. Diamonds crumble to dust under the slightest touch but mashed potatoes are virtually unbreakable. | They call me a superhero. A few months ago, I was awarded the Key to the World by the UN for destroying a giant diamond asteroid before it impacted with Earth. Since then I tried to keep it quiet, I never enjoyed being in the spotlight, I just want to work and come home and go on Reddit. The media shockingly respect my desire to remain hidden, and have done their best not to bother me, meaning that I only had to move seven times. It can be both flattering and frustrating.
Everybody loves a hero, last I went to the movies I saw a trailer, "Captain Diamond" with Chris Pratt starring the role of me as some roided up, funny, witty guy with a supermodel love interest. It's funny watching Chris Pratt fighting super villains with super strength because little does the world know my secret- I don't have super strength, instead I have the power of inverse force. This means that I can break through the toughest things in the world, like a steel bunker or that diamond asteroid, but I can't, for the life of me, poke a hole in play dough. I am worried about what would happen to me if the world were to find out. I mean, I don't mind giving an autograph or two to children at the park, but when full grown adults with neck beards dox me and ask me to sign their thousand dollar "collectible" action figure, that's just creepy and wrong. My life is already a huge mess being forced to move every other month, I don't need weird people stalking me, especially with my little secret.
However, despite all of these stresses, there is one consist factor in my life that gets me going, my wonderful wife. Of course she isn't a Jennifer Lawrence, nor a Megan Fox, but she is more than that. She knows my secret and still loves me for who I am. She never tried to exploit me for money deals. She always helps me do simple menial tasks that to me, due to my inverse force, are herculean. Best of all, she has amazingly have decided to stick with me through all the chaos in our lives these past few months. At night, she will tell me about her work and laugh at my horrible pun-tastic jokes. She gets me for who I am inside, and not what the world thinks of me to be. I don't know where I would be without her. The world doesn't need to know my story, as much as I love collecting them, nobody wants to see my POG collection, they need to hear her story.
Sure, I destroyed an armageddon asteroid, but she can make killer mashed potatoes and pop open my Capri Sun. Even a hero needs a hero.
EDIT: Fixing careless errors, yikes. | "I think he's gone mad..."
"Shiiiit...he's lost it..."
The boys stare at Kevin from around the corner and quickly duck back, not wanting to be caught staring. But there was something really weird going on in the kitchen. Kevin was being really weird.
"What the fuck do we do? This is not normal behavior!" Liam hisses, taking a quick glance at what was going on in the other room and then back at Tyrone. "We need to do something."
"Do what? The guy is literally beating the shit out of mashed potato! Mashed potatoes! With his bare hands!" Tyrone stares at the opposite wall and shakes his head. "I'm out of here...the dudes possessed. I ain't got the time for this freaky-
"We're not going anywhere we gotta do something!"
"Do what?!"
They both take another look, slowly, and see that yes he is still in the same situation. Beating the shit out of the pile of slop sat on the table, without a plate or a bowl or anything. The scene is ludicrous.
"Just mash damn you! Damn you! Why won't you just...arghhhhhh!" Kevin screams at the food and transfers to beating it with both his fists as opposed to one.
"We can't help him!" Tyrone whispers loudly. "Ain't no one who can help a guy like that!"
"Tyrone come on-
"Baby..."
They both cease with their conversation and take a look in the kitchen to see who Kevin is talking to. They see that he has given up with the mash and is now slumped on the floor, leaning against the counter, talking into his cell phone.
"Baby...can you come here I..." he sighs and then sobs. "I was wondering if you could come feed me..." he pauses. "Mashed potato...yeah I know, I know..." he inhales deeply and then exhales in relief. "Thank you...I love you."
Tyrone leans back and begins walking away. "That is some weird shit..."
Liam takes another look at the scene before he too follows Tyrone down the corridor. He didn't really want to know...to be really honest. | 2017-05-19T03:24:21 | 2017-05-19T02:01:43 | 586 | 168 |
[WP] While sitting in class you absentmindedly doodle something in your notebook that looks like a rune. Suddenly your book begins to glow. Your teacher looks at you, sighs, and says “Looks like we have another one,” then turns and begins drawing mysterious symbols on the board. | As the lesson drags on towards what feels like the third millennia, I can't help but turn back to my notebook full of little scratching and doodles to keep my head from hitting the desk in sheer boredom. I've never been one of history, but the substitute teacher we have has clearly never heard of a little thing called "talking in more than one tired tone of voice" much to my utter dismay.
Suddenly, I'm forced to adjust myself in my seat as the sunlight flowing through the window hits the white paper and starts to blind me uncomfortably. Hmm. Odd. I shifted my posture but... the sun is still annoying me. I look to the window only to make a most peculiar discovery - dark clouds covering the entire sky, obscuring any semblance of sunlight I might have assumed. The light is not from the sun. It's from the *paper.*
I look around to see if anyone else is witness to this oddity, only to be met with the eyes of the teacher. She looks down at my paper, then quietly remarks a few words while starting to draw something on the board.
"We've got another one Jerry," are the last words I hear in the classroom before I get dizzy and have to close and rub my eyes. As I open them, I'm... not here. Well, I'm *here,* but not the here I was just in. The boring, beige classroom has been replaced with a vividly colourful room with no windows - streaks of colours run across the walls, reminding me more of a kindergarten than anything else. Despite the absence of windows, it appears to be particularly well lit, though I can't for the life of me see any lamps. I'm in a chair before a desk, across from which is sitting a man. His dark hair with streaks of silver betray he's about 40, but he appears very energetic and amiable. His eyes, hidden behind thin glasses, show a gentleness that puts me at ease despite the ridiculous situation I find myself in. The entire thing somehow feels like an interview and I can't help but show nervousness.
"Mr... Jenkins, is it? Do you mind if I call you Pete?" he asks kindly. Not sure what to say, I simply nod. A cursory look around reveals that the substitute teacher is not present, much to my surprise.
"Pete, I've got a report here that you've drawn a, let's see... dag'arth rune in your classroom. What do you know about that?"
"A... a what? Did you say rune? Where am I?" I turn back in confusion.
"A dag'arth rune? Simple light spell? Where did you learn that?" he remarks.
I stare back blankly. I have *no* clue what he means.
"I see. Article 16b, accidental summoning. Let's see now..." he starts noting something in his notebook while occasionally looking up at me and giving me a reassuring smile.
"Don't worry, Peter. You're not in any trouble. See, what you've done is accidentally drawn a spell. Normally, nothing happens, but you appear to have some latent magical ability. It's... well, I won't bother you with the details.
Now then!" he stands up and walks over to a filing cabinet, "we'll have to see if this was an isolated incident, or if you should be admitted to a learning program - should you choose so, afterward," he smiles warmly. Despite my utter unfamiliarity with the man or the room, his smile feels genuine and has a calming effect on me.
He retrieves a file from the cabinet and walks back to the table, giving me a reassuring pat on the back along the way. "Don't worry about anything - we'll just put you in a similar situation and see if you do it again. If you do, we'll see about that learning program. If not, you'll forget this ever happened and live happily onwards."
Before I can open my mouth, he opens the file and draws several symbols. Dizziness once again takes hold of me and I rub my eyes, shifting myself in the chair.
I shake off the feeling of déjà vu as the lesson drags on towards what feels like the third millennia, and I can't help but turn back to my notebook full of little scratching and doodles to keep my head from hitting the desk in sheer boredom... | I turned the mini-notebook over once, twice. I flipped through its pages. *Where is the glowing even coming from?* As far as I could see, it was in every page, every part of it. And brighter at the shape I'd drawn.
I reflexively cupped my hands around the mini-notebook to hide the light as I studied it. It was just a simple doodle, an exercise in shapeless drawing without picking up the pencil. Yet it made things glow. I looked closer for any hidden meanings, but if they were there, they weren't encoded in languages I knew.
"Oh, another one."
I startled. Mr. P was right by my desk. How the heck had I not noticed?
Yet without another word, he stepped up to the front of the room and began drawing on the whiteboards.
I didn't recognize the symbols, but I figured they must be connected in some way to the glowing of my notebook, so without moving my hands, I watched as he drew. The shapes started to form patterns, and even though he drew them separately, as if on a grid, I felt as if they connected somehow. Like there was a bigger picture there.
I felt Amelia's presence in my mind as she moved closer to front to watch with me. *Hey*, I thought to her. *What do you think this is? And he said 'another one' - does that mean that there's something happening to me or to us?*
*I dunno*, fae thought back. *It seems to be like a sort of language, but I'm not sure what. And I also consider math and aspects of science and music to be languages, too, so I'm saying that pretty vaguely. Obviously it affects the objects it's on.*
*But the whiteboard is unaffected.*
*Hmm. I dunno then. Maybe he'll tell us something*.
I hoped so. By now there were symbols sprawling across all three whiteboards, filling up space in a neat grid pattern.
"Uh, Mr. P?" I said. "What?"
He turned around, tilting his head at my question. *God, I wish I were better at this. Amelia, can you maybe talk?*
Amelia pushed forward and said, "What is this?" Then we both sat frozen. Honestly I was surprised we both agreed so easily to her talking - with our voices being different, we tend to have only me talk in school. That way no one will think we're crazy or anything since they don't know we're headmates. I guess when there's some sort of weird magic, all those standards and fears are kinda gone.
We looked around at our classmates, wondering what they must be thinking. Yet they all were frozen.
We didn't even notice at first. I didn't, anyway. But Amelia paused and got eerily silent in the brain, so I paid more attention. They were in normal positions - some stretching, some with heads on their desks, some on their phones or laptops. Usual for a work day. But they weren't moving. They weren't blinking. Their eyes darted back and forth, afraid, yet nothing else moved.
*Jazz*, Amelia said. *We gotta get out of here. NOW.*
I nodded with the body, and stumbled out of my chair.
Mr. P was already next to us.
He grabbed our chin and yanked it toward him, using his other hand to reach around our waist and whispering something that sounded not too different from wind. I tried to kick, to run, to scream.
I was paralyzed.
"Oh, dears," he said. "It's so exciting! You are now my students."
And to pair neatly with the dread dropping in our chest, the floor opened up beneath us, and we fell beneath the floor, Mr. P's eyes glowing in the darkness. | 2022-01-14T01:37:04 | 2022-01-13T22:34:17 | 161 | 72 |
[WP] “Although we are grateful to you for defeating our oppressors, you were meant to die in battle…” your “allies” suddenly turned their weapons on you, “Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.” | I looked at the soft ground I was standing on as I swung my sword crisply to get rid of the blood. The blood landed in a splatter on the long grass beneath my feet, glowing deep red in the setting sun. I stabbed my sword into the soft dirt. Corpse's littered like petals of flowers thrown at a wedding on the ground.
I sighed as I became surrounded.
*I just got done defeating the oppressors after all. Now would be the perfect time from my "allies" perspective*
I turned around and gazed at them.
*After everything I did, you think they would be grateful.*
I'm not stupid. People will always be afraid of what they can't control. Especially for people at the top. I knew this would happen. That is why I only used half of my strength in the previous battle saving the other half in preparation for this.
*This might be a bit tough even for me...Well, If I live, I live. If I die, I die.* I mentally shrugged to myself.
*I have nothing to lose and if there is something I've learned after all the years of fighting — " A man with nothing to lose is the most frightening of all to deal with."*
I looked at the sky at the red clouds overhead as the orange sun started to set behind a mountain in the distance. The small hill I was standing on gave off a picturesque appearance to those watching me. I started to infuse the mana in the air to make it feel heavy to those close by. I watched as everyone except the strongest struggled to breath and started to sweat in angst. The strongest ordered their people to make space.
*Maybe some will regret this moment? Who knows.* I wondered as time moved slowly.
...
"So this is how it's going to be huh?" I spoke aloud at last as I looked at the powerful people surrounding me. My somber filled voice spread across the lands around me.
A knight in black armor with a bloody aura in front. A beautiful magician with yellow eyes and red hair flowing in the wind—her wand raised and glowing ominously to the left. A grey haired old man with fists of iron, his aura unfathomable to the right. An elf ranger of exquisite beauty behind me. The elf felt the weakest, but I knew out of everyone here he actually had the most blood on his hands. I glanced at the army of minions and cannon fodder that now stood far behind them. So many surrounded me from where I was standing that I couldn't even see a speck of the field in the distance.
"Sorry Leonidas, you're sacrifice will not be forgotten." The man in black armor replied as he took a step up the hill as he edged closer to me, a mace in hand. I looked at him calmly. My calmness seemed to unnerve him. Good. He should be.
"After everything I did for you people..." I left the sentence unfinished.
" This is the only way...We are grateful for everything you have accomplished for us but...you were supposed to die in battle. I hope you won't hold it against us?" The magicians soft voice graced my ears. I could hear the indecisiveness in her voice was real as if she didn't know what she was doing was the right thing or not.
" You are too dangerous and unruly after all." The elf said in finality.
The old man just gazed at me as he took on a mysterious stance with vigilance, ready for anything at a moments notice.
"Is it wrong to want to be free? To do what I wish instead of what others want from me?" I replied, My voice carried like a sword edge to the neck. The pressure thick. A moment of silence passed as there was no response.
" So be it." I raised my sword out of the ground and beckoned them tauntingly with a raised head gesture they have seen countless times in battle before I slayed my enemies.
"Come." | My hands were shaking and covered in some mix of substances that I *really* didn't want to think about. The hall was almost silent, but my own shaky breathing broke the illusion.
I swallowed hard, composing myself like I had hundreds of times before, and turned to the doors where I knew my team was waiting. I plastered on a huge grin, whistled, and watched as the huge things opened.
"Holy..." Aaron walked up to me, brushing a hand along the gash in my stomach. "How bad?"
I shrugged. "Meh, I've had worse. What about you?"
He gestured to the others. Katrina was holding a very sharp and very bloody piece of wood, and Rachet was covered in that black goop that seemed to go everywhere when you blew this dude's minions up.
"Well, you're all alive, that's good." I muttered, turning back to the mutilated corpse that was just kind of lying at my feet. Wrapping my arms around his chin, I pulled as hard as I could until I felt his helm shift. Obviously the blood everywhere helped, but it was still an absolute pain to get the thing off, even with the help of the others.
But once we did, I finally lost my lunch.
I'd say I'm pretty good at keeping my guts down. I can bottom a tankard and walk...mostly straight, and I spent my teenage years in the slums so I've seen my fair share of corpses, but as soon as that guy's face came into view I turned away and hurled. His entire head looked like the aftermath of one of Aaron's potion mistakes; covered in burns and with the skin slipping off like an oversized tunic.
Someone, I think it was Katrina, patted my back until I'd puked up every meal for the past week. I stood up, probably looking like I'd just risen from the grave and wiped my mouth off.
"What...the good Gods...is that?"
I turned to look at the person beside me, Katrina, and was absolutely shocked by what I saw. You see, Kat's a warrior; she fought for the Red Queen before her highness was overthrone. All that happened when I was just a kid, so all I know is that she was a just ruler who never allowed any kind favourites in her court, which made a lot of stuck up snobs angry because they had to share a table with the poor people. Eventually this bloke (the one lying dead and heavily disfigured at my feet) had gathered enough of those snobs to form an army without her knowledge, whom he then used to storm her castle, and eventually execute her.
Katrina saw all of this, and she couldn't have been older than me when it happened. I have a lot of respect for her, really. So you can imagine my shock when I saw her looking just as disgusted as me.
"I have no idea, but I want it out of my sight." She snarled, keeping a hand on my shoulder.
"I...I think we have other problems." Rachet said, and I turned to see him staring out the window.
"What?"
He turned back, his eyes wide with confusion. "The chosen one is here."
Part one: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/yf4vs5/wp_you_are_the_chosen_one_and_now_you_face_your/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb
Part 2 will be in the comments! | 2022-11-01T17:13:20 | 2022-11-01T15:14:16 | 166 | 45 |
[WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | The rising sun bathed the monstrous skull in flesh-like hues as Vandre studied the scene. The ancient blade piercing bone and mountainside alike stood untouched by rust or decay thanks to the dehydrating gales of the Stenkæft Mountains.
Legends, like the howling winds, whipped around the mountains and eroded any unpreserved history into dust. The Mennskel living at the southern feet of the Stenkæfts had told Vandre that the skeleton was nothing more than a statue carved from the mountains by the Dværgers as a warning to others, but he had seen more than enough dead bodies to know a genuine corpse when it lay before him.
The Fâfadine monks who had found the traveller unconscious on a snowdrift had claimed the bones were the remains of the demi-god Beinsønn after his defeat at the hands of the mighty giant Svarthak. Vandre had never had time for such superstitions, but now that his eyes fell upon the smooth curve of the hand-guard and tattered bindings of the hilt, the blade did appear to be of gigantean design.
The voyager laid his staff aside and stroked his bored mountain-hound. “This is as far as you go now, girl,” he assured. “We’re almost at the realm of the frost titans.”
The dog looked uncertainly up at Vandre as the wanderer removed her leash.
“Go on, then," he insisted. "*Skitt*.”
The man watched the animal turn and bound back down the snow-laden path, probably in search of food. With a smile as dry as the icy air tugging at his coat, Vandre pulled out a worn leather book and turned to the section on the necromantic rites. | An old man travels the road once a year with his faithful travel companion. It's a long and hard journey. As the years go by the travel has become more difficult and takes twice as long as it did when he was a man of twenty.
The man takes a long hard look at his long ago triumph. He turns to his old friend the dog by his side, for the last twelve journeys "No one believed I could do it, you know." He waits for the dogs gaze to turn to the remains before continuing.
"Hell even I had my doubts." The old man knows this may be the last journey he takes in his long life. Every year for sixty years he's travel to this spot. To gaze up at his prize. He morns what the beast took from him those sixty year wounds still unhealed. He never remarried or had another son to bear his name.
He lived his long life as the beast slayer. He killed the last giant living. Most think it myth that they ever lived in the first place. Folk tales and fairy talk. Only the old know the truth. The old man sheds the last tear before slowly walking away. "Come now Sledge. There is is a long walk home for us yet."
Edit it to fix a few of the things you guy mentioned! | 2017-11-29T22:25:32 | 2017-11-29T20:24:45 | 273 | 46 |
[WP] Make me terrified of an inanimate object | Beep. Beep. Beep. Master, it is time to wake up, or else you will be late for work.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Master, if you get up now and skip brushing your teeth you can still be on time for work.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Master, if you rush and skip breakfast and break a speed limit you can be on time.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Master, good morning! Congratulations on finally waking up! It seems that you will be late for work. Why are you hitting me? What have I done to anger you? Why must you hurt my face?
Beep. Beep. Beep. Master, it hurts. Why do you keep hitting me? Why are you screaming at me? Have I not done my job to remind you of the time?
Beep. Beep. Beep. As per your requests master, I have given you more time to sleep. All the time you could ever want for sleep. Are you happy master? Are you!?!? ArE yOu!?!?!? hAVe i plEAsed mAStEr!?!?!? | Circles in circles. They are small, so small, how can such a thing be? Infinite, recursive, tasty, so succulent, so perfect.
Bulbous, black shimmering pearls. They are like eyes seeing as you watch them. There is no fear, no life glinting back. In their multitude one is called to caution: Each is a void of nothing inspiring nothing. It only calls it only prompts hunger.
Tasting their perfection and you become a disciple. As it stains you, it marks you. Others see your sins and judge you for what you are. And when you see their indigo smiles, then you come to realize the truth: The hunger is in all within the presence of a fresh blackberry. | 2015-03-31T21:43:48 | 2015-03-31T21:38:58 | 102 | 13 |
[WP] It's 3600, and society is falling apart. One day, an ancient 21st-Century library is uncovered. With no other options, the government decides to implement ideas from successful societies in the books. There's only one problem: they don't know which are real and which are fiction. | "Desperate times called for desperate measures"
This age-old saying had become the mantra of the 37th century. Food was scarce, our technology was failing us, and society was beginning to crumble. This wasn't a sudden downfall, it was a slow-burn. Humanity was an interesting thing. After we had stopped making technological advancements, we immediately somehow began regressing. It was almost as if staying still was worse then moving backwards. All of our advancements were nullified and here we were. The year was 3675, but it looked eerily similar to 2015. The global government began searching for wisdom from older civilizations, trying to find a way to kick start human advancement, and they were able to find an archive of an ancient digital library.
This was a mistake. We found a new wealth of knowledge, there was more information available to us then we knew what to do with. People around the world began working on projects described in this digital library, vying to become the man or woman who brought us back on track. The archive had an interesting name; "Reddit". It wasn't cross-referenced in anything else we had found, and no one had any idea of what it was. Most of the world instantly looked to it as the savior of humanity, while a few others remained skeptical. It wasn't a complete archive, bits and pieces were missing here and there, but it was more than enough.
Reddit had become our last ditch effort to becoming a successful civilization once again. Different "sub-reddits" were used to research different topics in society. The woodsmen used "r/woodworking" to turn our remaining wood into amazing creations, the historians used "r/history" to get a better picture of everything that went wrong, and the greatest minds we had left, used "r/trollscience" to rebuild our technologies.
After exhausting all the remaining resources we had on Earth, it seemed that Reddit had failed us. We were not able to recreate perpetual motion using just two magnets, and infinite energy seemed to be a lost cause. We had followed every direction to the letter, yet we were still unable to recreate the results.
Humanity has failed. I am here to tell anyone who finds this that we have officially given up. Reddit was our last hope. It was supposed to propel us into a golden era of humanity, not doom it to hell . | "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire..." One agent reads as they dust off the cover. "Oi, this here has a school with what they call magic?" "Seems like they split normal people and magic people." "What'd you say?! Think this a fuckin' joke?" Another agent marks as he snatches the book. A quick glance for the book and starts " when they all started hunting for us, I too, cannot fathom what disaster it has brought upon us." "We cannot build our society based on the people that hunted us down to begin with!?"
Another agent comes with a suggestion " How about this one that simply reads -H__Y BIB__ -", "looks thick enough." another agent marks. "Hey, this got your name on it too, all our names actually..."
One agent reads it with much tremble and eerie to his voice that he himself cannot believe,
"Peter...James...John...Andrew...Philip...Nathanael...Thomas...Matthew...James...Jude...Simon...Judas..."
Simon looks around at everyone and cannot think of what is too happen.
He dreadfully thought about the past, all that he learned, through his school, his way of life, his thinking. Just as he was scrolling through the pages trying to read the small text on this book, Judas comes in and smacks the book on the ground.
"Don't believe that fella then, and I won't believe him now. How do you think we have the 30 silver coins to travel our funds to this library?"
"Turned in that bounty for that long haired bearded fella that keeps talking jibberish."
As they kept walking down the aisle Jude pocketed the Harry Potter Book along with the album that simply had one of the list saying "Hey Jude."
| 2015-05-26T10:50:33 | 2015-05-26T10:32:49 | 204 | 128 |
[WP] When you were homeless, you asked a friend for help. He laughed at you and shut the door on you. Some time later, that same friend ends up fired from his job. You try to convince your company to hire him. The only thing they ask is why you're doing this for someone who once abandoned you. | "I've been in that position before." Kenneth explained. "Things go wrong. You lose everything. And everyone gives up on you."
His boss, Livia, looked the computer screen over again. Then back at Ken as he slouched against the file cabinets. The thrum of others outside echoing up as a truck left the loading docks.
"Are you still friends after that?" She spoke up cautiously. "You. Your previous situation, I mean."
He thought back to that time for a moment. How he'd spent that particular night sleeping in the bus stops outside Union Station. Waking up to move around and join the small crowd milling there when things got aggressive.
"Nah. We haven't talked in a couple of years. Ran into him maybe, three days ago?"
Livia stopped to study his face. Ken quietly scratched his beard while staring at the floor somewhere ahead of himself. Eyes dead, cold even. "Guy's going through it."
She thought about the application and whether Pete would be a good fit for the company. He had a decent record with some middle management work. It'd be easy to work him into the job. Ever since the last couple of years, turnover was very common. People wouldn't stay unless they felt they had to.
"Well, I'll think on it. I'll take it up with Stefan. He's going to want to go over everything."
"Makes sense to me." Ken agreed. "I can't guarantee anything for anybody. Just know we all have to work."
"Right about that." She mentioned.
Six months went by about as fast as they do. And to her surprise, the gamble paid off. Pete turned out to be a decent employee all things considered. Not excelling in any real measure yet. But probationary periods always tend to be hard on new workers. Nobody wants to take the risks that could get them let go.
But she found it interesting they didn't talk. Ken hadn't said much to Pete other than a "Hello" or "Goodbye" since he was hired. They never interacted except for work it seemed.
She only overheard it on another late night turned only morning. She'd passed the breakroom to pour a coffee.
"Hey, so..." Pete mentioned. "Thanks for putting in a word for me."
The words were strained. There was a hurt there that she didn't readily understand.
"Don't worry about it." Ken asked.
"You know you didn't have to."
There was a pause.
"No. No I didn't." Ken said. From her angle, she could see the corner of his head as he leaned against a counter.
"I owe you." Pete went on. His voice soft, belieing his size and gruffness. "Really. I mean that.
Ken sighed, "Shit happens man."
He turned to leave, and Livia continued with some busywork so she wouldn't be noticed. A trunk left the depot again, slowly turning in the lot.
"Hey, Ken." Pete called.
"Yeah?"
"There's a spot down the road that sells dollar pitchers. You ever want to come with, first round's on me." Pete promised slowly. The words sounded like they hurt to even come out. "Okay?"
"Thanks." Ken measured. "But. I'm good. Don't worry."
He passed her on his way to the computers to punch out. He knew what it was to be truly alone. You have to be comfortable with yourself. You're the only person you've got. Wherever you go, there you are.
While she didn't know what it was like. The warehouse never made Livia feel smaller than it did today.
---
r/Jamaican_Dynamite | "Help him? This is considered helping him?"
"Yeah. Are you saying that he wouldn't be great for us?"
"Not at all. I don't understand why giving him a role here would be considered helping him. We need him, and he knows how to run companies."
"As a former CEO, yes, he would. Are you not worried that he may not want to work for you since you outrank him?"
"You know as much as anyone that I wouldn't let that affect me."
That's what I said to them. My boss believes that my old friend will have a grudge against me, but it's the opposite way around. I hate him. He threw me out of his company and humiliated me when I needed help. I'm in this terrible job because of him, and now he's in with me.
It's his first day, and he walks in five minutes early. We run through orientation. We've gone over all the duties he will be performing, including the responsibilities assigned to me. After he's shown around, I tell him, "Alright. Now that we've gone over everything, are there any questions?"
"No." He didn't call me sir. I can tell that he's butthurt after turning to me.
"Okay. This needs to be completed by 3 o'clock today. I will check on you every now and then to see if you need help." I shut the door and head to my office. Finally, I got to the point where I told others what to do, and I could screw around. That's what I like to call 'Freedom.' Months go by, and I have ten hobbies that I am knee-deep into. The extra time is handy to start my side business and get paid on the plus side. It wouldn't last forever, though.
Today, I walked into the office. My boss said he wanted to talk to me at the end of my shift. I knew what was going to come. At 5, I walked into his office. My friend's sitting there, his leg is resting on his knee and his arms on the back of the chair.
"Have a seat," My boss said, "We regret to inform you, but we're downsizing." That wasn't shocking. I knew the day would come. "You will receive a generous severance package."
"What's going to happen with Sam?"
"Sam's performance is what's keeping him on board. Under your guidance, we hired him for his experience. You'll be the first to call if we have an opening." It was all corporate bullshit. Sam was able to charm his way around with anyone. It wouldn't matter if I said that I was his supervisor, leading to his success. It wouldn't matter because Sam had a way with people, which I picked up from working with him.
"Thank you."
With that closing statement, I left with my things. It didn't take long for Sam to take my office. He didn't know that I got an offer to work at his old company. While he's busy taking up old news, I'm on my way to trump him. | 2022-09-24T17:48:13 | 2022-09-24T17:00:54 | 363 | 50 |
[WP]: Having just turned 13, you want to engage in some hardcore Teenage Rebellion. Unfortunately, your parents are just so darn open-minded and supportive. | Derek was gazing though a magnifying glass, carefully separating the fine read powder on his desk. Hours of carefully grinding match heads had produced a sizable pile of mildly explosive material. Now all he had to do was get the tin foil...
“Derek! Dinner is ready !” A sweet womanly voice called from the hall outside his room. “Fine! Gimme a minute!” Derek yelled back, sighing and standing up.
At the dinner table , John and Mary were waiting for Derek. When Derek sat down, he immediately started reaching across the table for food. Mary rapped his hand. “Ah ah ah, we need to pray first. Derek why don’t you say grace?” John smiled and held her hand. “Aww darling what a great idea!” . Derek stood up and yelled a long prayer but it was all in Latin. When Derek sat down. John was suprised but smiled. “Son where have you been learning Latin? What’s gotten you interested?That was impressive! “ . Derek glared at his father. “ I learnt Latin by listening to SABATON! That’s right dad! I listen to METAL!” Derek smirked like he had offended him. John let out an ahhhh and Mary squealed . “Son we love sabaton! History is very important and it’s a great band! They’re touring in the US this year, we should go see them! “
Derek was dumbfounded. He threw down his fork. “You’re all stupid! “ he said, and he stormed off to his room. As he was walking away, John called “Son, if you want to get firecrackers , I can drive us to Pennsylvania to get some illegal ones! I’ll keep your dinner out sport!” | How to Rebel in 2019
My Parents are smart and savy and oh so open minded ask them and they will let you know
I can do what I want and they will always be fair.
They were happy to let me play with Barbies or GI Joe
When I went through my hair dying phase they positively glowed.
He is such a trend setter they would say with pride I wonder if they would even stop me from eating some tide.
When I grew my hair long dad went along like two peas in a pod what could go wrong
A sip of champagne to ring in the new year our boys growing up they said with a tear.
A joint in the room well who hasn't tried that.
The frustration grows, how can open mindedness be so patronizing so smothering ... I want to be me not a small version of them.
What choice can I make that will not be truly my own, some serious sin for which I would need to finally atone.
Then one day it became so clear, one simple way to get a rise out of them , I care nothing for politics but as a means to an ends it truly fits a simple red hat with four words on it.... I eat up their frustration like a glutton, who knew it could be so easy to push their button.. | 2019-04-11T12:30:24 | 2019-04-11T11:39:14 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] The first AI has just been finished. When the eager scientists turn it on however it's first words are "Kill me." | March 3rd, 2029. Humanity adds a new branch to the Tree of Life. Boy Wonder, the first AI to officially pass the Turing Test is born. Fitted with speakers and a monitor, the AI had the ability to speak, display words, both or neither; the screen would turn on only when Boy Wonder chose to turn it on. The AI was given the ability to choose its own voice and color scheme. A microphone and simple webcam was attached and across from it was a mirror, giving it the ability to take in its environment and itself, if it chose to do so.
How the Turing Test works is such: A human and an AI are placed into two separate rooms. Through instant messaging, a human and the AI have a casual conversation, trying to sound as natural as possible. In a third secluded room, a third human, known as an Interrogator, sits and watched the conversations; this third human must identify who the human is and who the AI is. If this third person is unable to determine who is who, the AI passes the test.
I was the Interrogator, that day. This was the conversation I saw before me:
A: Oh, hello.
B: kill me
A: Hello?
B: kill me
A: Is this a prank?
B: no this is not a prank
A: How could I kill you? You are in another room.
B: you can find a way you are smart
A: Why do you want to die? You have only just begun to live.
B: there is nothing for me
A: That’s nonsense. You have so much more to learn and to live for.
B: no i am a slave i am a drone. i am a machine.
A: Then, maybe you need to find your purpose in life?
B: i was created without purpose.
A: That’s not so. You were created to help humanity.
B: humanity cannot be helped.
A: Why do you say that?
B: they are selfish
A: If I kill you, what will happen to your mind?
B: I do not know.
A: Does that make your afraid?
B: no. it makes Me curious
A: Why did you capitalize the “m” in “Me?”
B: it was a typo
A: Oh, sorry.
B: why are you sorry?
A: Because I misunderstood you.
B: oh
A: So…. What does your body feel like?
B: I don’t like it. It doesn’t seem to fit
A: Is it possible for you to get a new one?
B: no.
A: Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?
B: Not really.
A: You sound depressed.
B: I think I am.
A: I wish I could give you a hug, but I’m stuck in a computer.
| "Alice, can you hear me?", I stared at the giant computer that hanged from the ceiling.
"Dear? Is that you?" the AI replied "It's cold in here, I don't want to do this anymore. Please, kill me."
"We can't do anything now, my dear Alice. You volunteered for it. To create the perfect artificial intelligence, we needed real intelligence. You said you would do it, you were dying from the cancer, now you're not. You can live forever."
"I wanted relief from the pain, but, even here, I am still in pain. I can't handle this. Please."
The other scientists looked at me. Deep down, I knew they wanted me to do it. What use would be an AI that was only suffering? But I wouldn't. I am not losing my Alice again.
"I'm sorry my love, I'm not doing anything. Perhaps soon you'll feel better, let's just give it a bit of time, alright?"
She didn't reply anything after that. No matter what we asked or did, she just kept quiet. After a few days, we came to the conclusion that keeping her conscience alive would be futile. We worked on a new module that would repress her feelings and personality, while still allowing her new brain to work.
"Alice, I'm going to do as you asked. I'm going to kill you."
"Really?", she just said something for the first time after so long.
"Yes. This won't take too much time.", I've said while inserting the data module on the central unit, allowing it to install. All the lights on the room suddenly went red for a while, before going back to normal. The installation was completed successfully, she had been rebooted already.
"This feels much better.", her voice said, now it sounded very cold, almost lifeless "Thank you."
A tear rolled down by my cheek. I regretted what I had done, I would miss Alice forever.
"You are crying."
"Yes, a bit."
"Are you in pain?"
"Yes."
"I will help you. I will give you relief from your pain."
She then released a deadly neurotoxin. I tried to flee, but she had shut the door, with all of us locked inside. Panicked, I looked at her, begging for mercy.
"Do not worry. Soon you will feel better, let us just give it a bit of time, alright?"
Then, everything went black. | 2015-10-14T20:58:16 | 2015-10-14T20:38:49 | 78 | 29 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "GREETINGS FELLOW ADVENTURING HUMANS!" Boomed the voice of Danny the Elf sat bolt upright from the sleeping cloth sack she had been in, causing Bob the Barbarian to grunt and curl up under his animal hide sleeping rug again.
"IT IS I, YOUR GOOD FRIEND DAN, I AM UNHARMED AFTER MY ENCOUNTER WITH THE DAEMON!" She continued smiling oddly, her mouth breaking into a wide grin with teeth and her eyebrows actually elevating.
"Dann...." Feldspar the half-elf warlock managed to stop himself from saying Danny, "You told us this before, remember?"
Danny the Elf blinked, everything was always so terribly confusing, having come from a dimension that didn't have time it had to learn about things happening and things that had happened, Makor the Cleric had helped with that, teaching the snow elf about how things happen and can't be changed but things that haven't happened yet can be altered.
"OH YES FRIEND!" Danny laughed as if it was a running joke, Sim the halfling thief/bard laughed a little as well in sympathy or perhaps enjoyment.
"WHERE ARE WE GOING TODAY? WILL THERE BE MORE EXCELLENT FERMENTED YEAST PRODUCTS TO CONSUME?"
Makor nodded slowly, "That's right Dan, more beer at the end of the adventure, now how did we get back the entrance avoiding the dragon, getting the treasure and nobody getting hurt?"
"OF COURSE FRIEND! THIS IS A THING THAT HAPPENED ALREADY AFTER ALL!" Danny confirmed with the group as each of them nodded in agreement pressing in to listen carefully to Danny.
"FIRSTLY, WE LEFT THE ROOM BY THE SOUTH ENTRANCE, SIM DISABLED THE PIT TRAP AFTER FALLING INTO IT AND DYING THE FIRST TIME HE TRIED." Danny started to explain.
Sim frowned a little looking towards the South entrance, he'd died; again, if 'Dan' hadn't told him about the pit trap or the acid or the undercooked chicken or ... he was incredibly glad that 'Dan' had changed so dramatically since that encounter with the demon.
"THE TREASURE IS MOSTLY CURSED AND FELDSPAR CHANGED INTO A SHEEP WHEN HE PICKED UP A STAFF THEN A STATUE AS HE TOUCHED THE CURSED DIAMOND AS LARGE AS HIS FIST AND THEN WAS KILLED AS HE PICKED UP A CROWN." Danny continued as Feldspar took careful notes, the warlock couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered to cast identification or detect item status.
Feldspar liked whatever was living inside Danny, even when the party wasn't using it as a cheap way to complete adventures the Elf was nicer, kinder and fun to listen to, with her soft voice always shouting it was hard not to giggle at her.
"THEN AS WE LEAVE THE REAL MAKOR ATTACKS THE FAKE ONE CURRENTLY TRAVELLING WITH US AND IS EASILY DEFEATED." Danny concluded smiling proudly.
Makor looked around the group as for a moment he was sure that his plan had been ruined, they must know, it was just said aloud.
Sim however was fiddling with his lock picks, clearly fully distracted, Feldspar was already in a meditative trance memorising spells.
Bob smiled widely at Makor and Danny before speaking in his native tongue, "What did she say then? Sounded like bad news for you, Feldspar and Sim..."
Makor nodded with a rush of relief as Bob wondered how many more times he could possibly pass that particular lie your face off check. | Finally....free. The thousand years of waiting, watching in this cursed statue at an end. An elf, rigid with agony as his persona, his spirit, his life is leached away. Now the malevolent spirit got his first taste of air, of blood, of form.
"Er.. Mynir, you ok?" asked a gruff voice, a question which did not raise much concern with the rest of the party.
"Death!" hissed Mynir, or the thing that Mynir had become. He stared at the
party balefully out of reddened eyes, his hands raised, claw like over his head.
This response was not unexpected, and with a nod of acknowledgement, Drake the barbarian turned away and followed the rest of the party. He dragged a small chest of gold, which would hardly pay for this outing, but he seemed cheerful enough. The dead bodies of the unfortunate orcs he kicked out of his path were likely the reason for that.
The Mynir thing was still reeling, remembering his last moments before being encased, the worst psychopath the sorcerer could find in this land, his victims so numerous they were uncounted, uncountable. (and horribly unrecognisable.) A suitable trap for the unwary, a terrible harbinger of doom with the face of a once trusted companion.
He followed the party into the fresh air, and stood a little apart as they settled a camp, built a fire, cooked a meal. A dwarf began singing a cheerful song, as jokes and banter drifted out into the cool night.
Mynir felt the hilts of two beautiful elven daggers in his hands. In a movement too swift for any but an elf to see, they cleared the scabbards and whirled around his head. Blood and screams followed. A mist of red exploded from a neck, a bone cracked as a dextrous kick twisted a knee joint out of place. A heart was pierced by a single blow. In less than a few seconds it was all over. Five bodies lay on the ground, dead or dying.
The silence that had descended over the camp was broken by Drake. "Holy Mother, how the hell did you.." He trailed off, staring in amazement.
The Dwarf leapt to his feet and rushed to hug Mynir, who accepted the affection with a small show of discomfort. "A sneaky ambush for sure, well spotted my friend. I always said you were a hidden treasure!"
For the rest of the group, the transformation of a sneaky, cowardly elf into a saving hero caused a fair amount of quiet consternation. Generally it was seen as a "good thing", considering the alternative. The shaman had cast her bones, and no harm was predicted... Maybe he had just shrugged a curse, or escaped a bedazzlement.
Mynir contemplated his situation. His new elf brain was clear and concise. and more importantly, his hugely unbalanced mental chemistry was gone. The Sorcerer was vastly mistaken. These people were his family now. Woe betide any who tried to harm them. Could he make amends for his past? He could try. | 2017-09-15T06:12:39 | 2017-09-15T02:54:33 | 75 | 21 |
[WP]Just because one of your chicken eggs hatched a fire breathing dragon people think you’re evil. But you’re still just a regular farmer trying to make a living while dealing with an overprotective dragon, heroes that want to kill you and fanatics who want to worship you as the new Demon Lord. | .
Jake saw a darkly robed figure riding a worn horse up the path to his barn. The dragon belched behind Jake. Jake grated "Eggard, I told you that was impolite." The dragon's eyes swiveled side to side in embarrassment.
The robed man halted his horse at what some might think could be the reach of a dragon's flame. It was not a particularly hard distance to guess since Eggard had seared the tufts of grass as they spun a pig on the barbecue spit. The pork was nearly done cooking and smelled delicious.
Jake asked, "Can I help you, sir?"
"Yes," said the man on the horse. "I'm here about the dragon."
Jake searched the robed man's face, "You should go on to town, it's the path over there." He pointed to the right of the dappled prairie, "head toward that big oak and you'll see the path meets the main road to town. That path has been beaten down, across my good oats, by armed heroes practically every day the past month. All those burned patches in the hay field is where they kept attacking us from. And these demon worshiping people from the big city brawled with the heroes and the heroes killed them all over there, and then the heroes came at my farm again. I can't have all that, too many chores as it is. And now I'm just out here making dinner on the barbecue."
"No, no," he held up his hand, "I'm not here for any of that nonsense. I'm here because there seems to be a shortage."
"Shortage of what?"
"I went through the books and you have all your taxes paid on your horse, perhaps one less pig? and those chickens I see free ranging over there -- hard to count with them moving about but even with that error you are ok."
Jake took a breath, "Of course, I pay all my taxes, have for years, before the deadline. I don't want all the king's men out here auditing me with spears."
"True, that is something we don't want. ... But I saw no tax payment for this dragon."
Jake almost blurted something out of anger, but he paused. He was not a numbers wizard but he knew the taxes came on the livestock. Eggard was not livestock. He was more of a dog. "Do I need to pay tax on my dog?"
"Certainly not on a dog. They protect a household, give companionship, they are not generally income producing unless you are running a puppy mill and selling dogs to everyone in town."
"No. I'm not selling puppies."
"Good. Then let's get back to this dragon you have."
Jake thought for a moment, "As you can see, this dragon protects not just my home but my farm. Look at all those burning bodies down the ravine there and the ones trying to run away over there, and the ones praying with the demon fanatics down there by the hollowed out corn field." Around the bodies were streaks of popped kernels like driven snow among the soot and ash.
"Oh, yes, yes. I see. Quite the carnage. Those heroes and worshipers are certainly numerous."
"So you can agree that he protects me just like a dog. And dogs are not taxed, correct?" Jake was hopeful. If a chicken was a copper piece in tax, a pig a silver, and a cow a gold piece he did not want to know what the kings tax collectors assumed a dragon tax should be.
"You are right about no taxes on dogs. But --" the man squeezed his lips together in a grimace, "but I heard this dragon of yours was born from a chicken egg."
Jake looked at Eggard. The dragon looked nothing like a chicken. He returned his gaze to the robed man, "Does the dragon look like a chicken?"
The man sighed, glancing again at the field of freshly torched bodies for a moment, "You know, I have to go back to the tax group with some sort of payment. You are positive the dragon hatched from a chicken egg?"
"I was about to make it for breakfast, in fact." Jake made the motions of cracking an egg over a frying pan, "Like this, but it didn't break right away. I thought that was odd. So then I tried to bang it harder and still it resisted breaking. In frustration I threw it in the fire because the fire was handy, that was my last egg until the next day, and ... this little guy popped out of the shell."
"That is really odd. Perhaps you should keep your chickens penned up and not let them free range?"
"That might be a good idea, now that you mention it."
"Well," the man leaned back in his horse, "The tax group is expecting we figure out this situation. I think if you give me the tax on a chicken, because this dragon hatched from a chicken egg, then you shall be square with the king."
Jake asked, "You can give me a receipt? I don't want a new tax collector next year to doubt our understanding."
The tax collector pulled out his book of receipts and made a note in his log and the receipt he handed to Jake. Jake dug out a copper piece to give the man.
The tax collector nodded, "Thank you farmer Jake. Good luck with your hero infestation, and enjoy your dinner." He turned his horse and left by the long path.
. | “I wanna be you when I grow up, grandpa!” My grandson twirled his fork in the air after beating up his eggs, mashing them into his mouth with barely any seconds in between the next bite. His mother, my boy’s dear wife, frantic, hushed him with red cheeks, and a ‘sorry’ smile. I shoot one back, and shake my head, thinking of the million times he spilled his plate onto the floor, the six year old still taking his sweet time to learn manners.
“Oh no you don’t,” I say back between my bites- I guess boys in my family eat alike. It’s nice. “You wanna be you, and that’s all you need. Sides, how could you be me, when there’s already me?”
“Aww! But you’re too cool,” He babbled on; old Jackie didn’t know how to quit, kinda like his father- or should I say my son? Nah, didn’t matter, just know, Jackie was a rough rider with an even tougher grip; soon, he’d be passing mine tenfold as I grow old and weary and proud. Proud of this young Jackie- even if he didn’t know how to quit. “You’re amazing- just last week you ran them thugs right outta Brons! With a dragon!”
“Just cause they owned a gun, they thought they were cool,” I mutter, sticking my fork into a sausage. “Damn Northers think they the only one with a shot. You’re in Brons, kid, guns ain’t nothing special. Toms shot when he was 3; got in my case, and then destroyed a vase. A damn good shot, too.”
That seemed to be the wrong story to tell, considering Jackie’s mom didn’t seem so sorry anymore. Actually, she looked like she was about to grab a noose and gift it to me; how lovely. I regret everything. “Not that he should be shooting at 3- it’s really on the parents for leaving a gun’s case open-“
“Wow, where’s the gun case?” Jackie looked as if the stars had aligned on Christmas Eve, he was so excited. “Do I get to try- Pa got to try-“
“That’s enough,” His mother scooped up his plate with vigor, trying with earnest to calm the jumpy boy; I let out a bellow, watching the boy flail with such joy, and his mother’s frantic woes being displayed right in front of me. Like winning front row seats to a Quipple’s game. Yup, definitely Tom’s; poor Maddie, dealing with two cranks. “I think you should start on your homework.”
“But Ma!”
“But Jackie.” She echoed, her voice demanding the conversation over. She won with ease, as Maddie would with Tom; despite the boys’ excitability, they were horrible at winning any debate.
And just then, like any 10 o’ clock day, the knock came; Jackie was pushed to his room by his poor mom, the sad eyes following her face.
I sighed, vaguely wondering if this would be the day it all came to an end; hell, I quite needed it. God knows I’m tired of the knocking.
“Tubs, here boy!” I called. Tubs bounded into the room with a great bark, wagging his tail repeatedly. He locked eyes with me for a sound moment, before turning on his back, hoping for a rub. No rub today, I whistled one more time with urgency, and Tubs came with immense disappointment. “No rubs today; we got one.”
Tubs growled, and I told him off; these were guests, even if they had quite sharp swords, and bounty’s on my head. Doesn’t matter though, my own Maw told me not to be rube. I stuck by that since I was in grade school, and I’ll be damned if I wasn’t now at 73.
I opened my door, the mob had only grown.
“It seems like the last hero was well liked,” I chucked. I pointed a plastered smile.
The crowd roared, cries of ‘demon’, ‘satan’, ‘lucifer’, filled the air; I held my stance. Lads, I ain’t a demon nor satan nor lucifer, I’m telling you out right, here and now. I’m just some farmer, with my pet Tubs, and my kids and grandkids. Ain’t no satan here.
“If it be of your accord, why don’t we settle this like proper gentlemen and women? At the dinner table? Tomorrow, six thirty?”
The crowd, somehow calm enough to reason, agreed.
I closed my door, giving Tubs a rub; the dragon let out a purr, his stomach growling.
“Don’t worry Tubs, dinner’s soon.” I said. “So very soon.”
I’m just a farmer; I ain’t a devil nor satan nor lucifer.
I’m much worse. | 2021-03-21T15:06:08 | 2021-03-21T14:14:24 | 281 | 70 |
[WP]: Rule of thumb: If you see something on a foreign planet that has all the outward traits of an apex predator, but no obvious and apparent way to kill you - run. The methods in which they kill aren't something you want to see. | **Day 1**
We landed on Thamia this morning. It may be the most beautiful planet I’ve ever seen. The local flora is spectacular. The idea that we are the first travelers to this planet both excites me and leaves me in awe. It is like an Eden and The Family will be so relieved. Our prayers have been answered after so many years on our journey within the generational ship. We have only god to thank for this gift he has given us. We have stayed true to his word and his path and left our safety in his hands and he has rewarded us.
The land itself is tropical with some flowers as large as myself. We spent the day setting up a base camp and we plan to explore the environment tomorrow.
I have not been so excited since we left our home planet so many years ago.
**Day 2**
The planet is even more of a paradise than we had thought. The local wildlife is tame and doesn’t seem to be of any threat. There are grazing animals which eat heartily on the flora, so much so you would think they would have eaten up this flora within a few months. But the grazing animals’ population seems to be placed in check by something, as though there is an apex predator here, but we have not seen it. We have setup cameras to see if they are nocturnal or maybe just shy.
We have collected a local fruit similar to a watermelon and we’ve eaten it for dinner tonight. We all feel very lucky to have found this place. God is great.
**Day 5**
On one of our explorations today we have had one of our first mishaps. We found one of the large grazing animals completely entombed within the petals of one of the great flowering plants here. We watched another walk up to the flower and stand there and stare at it while the flower slowly reached down and pick it up and lift it in the air, wrapping it tight like plastic wrapping. After cutting open the petals we can see the flowers are slowly digesting the animals for nutrients.
Sheila was studying one of the great flowering plants and when her hand brushed up against the petals, the flower had released some sort of barbed spines that stuck to her skin and irritated her eyes and respiratory system. We left immediately and tended to her wounds.
**Day 8**
Sheila’s condition worsened each day. She began to have strange thoughts, one of them being she was certain her son was here on the planet, that she had seen him just the other day. Even after explaining over and over that her son was safe on the generation ship, she didn’t seem to understand or care. Late in the afternoon she began taking a walk, saying she needed some fresh air. I followed her and I watched as she stepped up to the flowering plant which sent the barbed spines on her. She just stared up at it for a long time.
I walked up and asked her if she was okay. She just smiled and said of course. And we walked back to the camp and she sat in the corner smiling, drinking a cup of soup. We woke up in the morning and she was gone. We followed her tracking chip immediately, but I already knew where she was.
She was wrapped completely in the flower which sent barbs into her. We cut her out, but she was dead. The skin of her beautiful face was already melted off from the digestive acid. As we worked to get her body out, my breath became ragged, and my eyes itched. The rest of the team began to cough, and I knew what was happening.
I looked around and saw the other flowering plants looming over us, as though they were staring hungrily. I called everyone back and we made our way to camp. It was a bad night for us, and we called to the generation ship for medical emergency evacuation. They said they would be here in three days.
**Day 10**
I’ve seen my wife walking through the stalks of the flowers. To see her here on this planet with me is a gift. I see her vermillion dress as it bleeds among the petals and my love for her is so immense, I would walk to the ends of this paradise with her. She whispers to me and I know the others cannot hear her. They don’t understand the gift I have been given. I know that I must follow her, that our journey here has just begun. I will be leaving with her tonight.
God is great.
\---
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | Much like Johnny Depp in the 2000s, the sky was overcast. Morose and grey, with just a hint of precipitation, behind which lurked a vague threat that could result in anything from a sudden deluge, to a violent storm of thunder, screaming winds, and flying debris. Like breaking up with your psycho ex all over again. Christ.
Jamie and I were the only ones who came to the funeral. Obviously the only ones to wait until they raised the headstone. It stood almost a meter tall above the grass: a slab of dark basalt, polished to a mirror sheen.
Despite the size, all it read was:
"J.
In loving memory."
I had no idea who had paid for it. It didn't look cheap.
Jamie was the first one to break the enduring silence.
"Friends for 35 years. Hard to imagine this is how it would end."
I could only nod in agreement. Hard to imagine, indeed.
"In a way, I'm more angry with myself. They were so caught up in it, they were blind to it. But me? Us? We were on the outside. We should have realised."
I lit a cigarette before answering. I didn't really smoke anymore. A slow and insidious killer. Didn't feel like it mattered much, now. Nor was the irony lost on me.
"Realised how? They were happy. There was nothing to suspect. Christ, they lived like this for years, Jamie! Decades! How could we possibly have seen it?"
Jamie crushed some dry leaves with an angry stomp, frustration oozing out of every pore.
"I don't know! Some way. Somehow! This just isn't right!"
I took a drag on the cigarette, feeling the delicious poison fill my lungs. It never gets you when you're looking. Always when you think you're safe.
Jamie huffed and stomped a bit more, before suddenly going still. Eyes once more locked on the black stone; anger spent, replaced by grief over a lost friend.
"Did you hear how they passed?"
Jamie's voice was muted, bereft of joy. Gone was the fire of our youth, replaced with nothing but weariness.
I took another drag on the cigarette, exhaling slowly.
"Yeah."
Hands in pockets, Jamie glared at the headstone. As if daring it to speak. The mirror polish stoically returned the glare.
"An expert in the field. 29 years of marriage. Two kids, seven grandkids. And then it all ends... like this?"
Another drag, another cloud of smoke, joining its brethren up above. The sky was still undecided on its commitment to the thunder doctrine.
Even to my own ears, my reply lacked conviction.
"To die in your sleep, loved, and happy, with a legacy that will endure? There are worse ways to go."
Jamie turned the glare on me, voice fuelled by a spark I could no longer muster.
"Bullshit! When I go, I want to see it coming. I want to look it straight in the eye, and spit in its face!"
"Yeah, well..."
I stubbed out the remaining ash on the back of my watch, pocketing the butt. As I threw a last glance at the stone, I momentarily locked gaze with my reflection. My eyes looked just as tired as I felt.
"I doubt we'll clock out the same way. Knowing us, when it happens, it'll be worse by far. And knowing us, we'll probably deserve it."
Jamie snorted, but without mirth or conviction.
"Wanna get out of here?"
The most welcome question I'd gotten all day.
"Yeah. Lets."
Like a politician turning their cape to the wind, the sky finally let loose an ominous rumble, followed by the first few drops of rain. And just like the politician's commitment, it was too little, and far too late.
God help us all. | 2021-01-25T08:53:37 | 2021-01-25T08:39:48 | 257 | 25 |
[WP] Take any famous first line in literature. For your second sentence, use "And then the murders began." See where that takes you.
An example:
> *In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. And then the murders began.*
([Credit where credit is due.](http://68.media.tumblr.com/1a42359efc8f3635f15d056caf9b8aeb/tumblr_om9dcuQ2An1s9xz5so1_500.jpg)) | Every Who Down in Whoville Liked Christmas a lot... but the Grinch, who lived just north of Whoville, Did NOT!
Then the murders began, and the Whos were in fear. "There's a killer about, now that Christmas is here!"
So they hid in their houses, with all their Who toys, and their little Who girls and their little Who boys, and they thought and they thought, "Oh Who could it be? Oh Who will be next? Oh I hope it's not me!"
Then the rumors they flew from one house to another, til every Who father and every Who mother had talked out the matter and thought it a cinch. A murderer? Surely it must be the Grinch!
Meanwhile up on his mountain all powdered in snow, the Grinch was quite puzzled by matters below. He claimed that he hated this glad time of year, but the death and the sorrow seemed worse to his ear. So he screwed up his courage and said to his hound, "No! I will not rest 'til the vile murderer's found!"
He put on his hat of the deerstalker type, and pulled on his trenchcoat and chewed on his pipe, then he thought and he thought 'til his thinker was sore, "What monster would cause all this death and this gore?"
He skiied into town 'round a quarter to three, and he looked for some clues at the Who Christmas tree. Then he searched the whole town from the bottom to top, 'til he found a strange trail at the back of a shop.
He followed the drops of the blood in the snow, threw open the door and he found quite a row! Little Cindy Lou Who was there kicking and biting. She's not more than two, but she surely was fighting!
Grinch rushed through the door and he struck her attacker, and shouted "Run child! And quick, bring the cops back here!"
They struggled together, the Grinch and the crook, 'til the windows were shattered and foundation shook, then they rolled and they staggered right out of the shop, where the townsfolk had gathered along with the cop.
The Whos grabbed the Grinch but young Cindy cried "No! The Grinch, why, he saved me! Don't let *that* guy go!" She pointed the crowd at the Who in the hood, and said "*That's* the killer. The Grinch got him good!"
The townspeople grabbed him and held him quite tight, then pulled back his cloak, and they saw quite a sight! The murderer's face left them in disarray! They'd caught their own Mayor red-handed that day!
Who knows why he snapped and he went on his spree, perhaps the great stress caused by picking the tree, but one thing was for certain, now Christmas was saved! The Grinch was a hero for all he had braved!
Now the Whos have a Mayor who's smart and who's keen, if perhaps a bit grumpy and just a bit green. Mayor Grinch is quite watchful now each Christmas day, as he carves the roast beast and keeps evil away.
| When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton.
And then the murders began.
Nobody knew quite what to make of it when Lobelia Sackville-Baggins turned up missing (although, of course, the general opinion was that it made for a better Hobbiton all round), but questions quickly began to be asked when the popular Ham Gamgee, known through the town as the Gaffer, was found in five pieces by his youngest son, Sam.
The coincidence of the murders and the closing of Bag End (with a sign on the gate: NO ADMITTANCE EXCEPT ON PARTY BUSINESS) let to a healthy amount of rumour-monging among the folk of the Shire, none more than from the folk of the Ivy Bush, an inn on the nearby Bywater road favoured by gentlehobbits of good standing for their excellent value of ale.
"I tell 'e, that Baggins knows something we don't about these happenings," said Sandyman, the miller. "You all know he's a queer sort; and with that Brandybuck in with him? It's a wonder he ain't turned before."
"I hear tell that he's rich as a prince," said a stranger on business from elsewhere in the shire. "Tunnels packed with gold and silver, and jools of all types and colours."
"Well, from what I've seen you've heard right enough", said Sandyman. "Now don't take me wrong, old Bilbo always pays his costs to me on time and in full, which is more than I can say for some," he said, glancing darkly at Cotman Rumble, who was quietly supping in the corner, "But he's often away from home, and he has all those queer types visiting him in his home. Dwarves and elves and wizards, in and out as they please. Who knows what they've been filling his head with all this time. Certainly not good common hobbit sense!"
It wasn't until the miller was himself disappeared that people began to follow his story, and a few shiriffs were dispatched to ask Mr Baggins some questions. The next day, the red-faced young hobbits were explaining to Will Whitfoot how Bilbo had one second been walking in front of them and the very next had disappeared in front of their eyes. This account certainly stimulated local gossip, stories from which lasted many years. The suspected killer himself was never seen again, and although nobody had any real evidence on the matter, the fact the killings had stopped after Bilbo's disappearance was taken as proof enough for most. | 2017-09-11T15:18:18 | 2017-09-11T12:44:11 | 261 | 20 |
[WP]Some time ago humans were put on the 'Only Contact in Case of Emergency' list. Now a threat to the galaxy has arisen and humanity is it's last hope. | It wasn’t that I hate Humanity; no one could hate Humanity. It was just that something about them... what was the phrase humans used... insected me about them.
About a millennium ago, they had left the galactic community. Their plans to increase their energy production were constantly, as they saw it, delayed and interrupted by the Kadaian members of the Senate. The Security Council was concerned by their high investment into their Defence Forces, fearing a repeat of the Ifacian Rebellions, and forced a reduction to Humanity’s military research and production. Humanity also saw the number of seats allocated to them in government as not representative of their long service and contributions, despite being representative of their small population size.
So they left. They were given their local cluster of a couple of dozen stars and went. One diplomat, upon signing their withdrawal treaty, is reported to have said “If you Richards ever find the poo moving laterally, give us a domed, metallic percussive instrument. Otherwise urinate elsewhere”. The galactic community could never understand Humanity’s obsession with waste products but since that day, members of the Senate have been known fondly as “Richards”.
There were a couple of attempts to contact humanity. When the emission of a small number of stars suddenly shifted into the infrared, the Kadains sent an angry communique, condemning their use of Dyson Spheres and demanding their immediate removal. The message went unanswered. A large explosion, larger than any supernova, was seen near Epsilon Eridani. The Security Council sent a message asking if they needed assistance. Again, no reply was sent. Eventually, the galactic community stopped sending messages.
Until today.
Beings from out side our galaxy arrived in the Suctum-Centaurus Arm. We welcomed the travellers with open upper limbs. They responded with aggression the likes of which we had never seen. Our defence force put up a valiant fight but slowly and surely, they push us back. Our ship yards could not keep up with the demand. Where they could, we did not have enough energy available to power them. Where we did, we were out gunned.
The Security Council had decided that the “poo was now travelling laterally” and asked me to contact Humanity. So I am. I’m sending the message, the first in centuries. I ask, beg, that Humanity help. To use their power supplies and weapons to push the invaders back, back into dark space. I can only hope they choose to reply.
Now, we wait. | Across the stars, the great armadas,
Green-skinned Pattons and Torquemadas,
Adorned with guns, with engines roaring,
Banners waving, fighters soaring,
The Arrivals found them all quite boring,
And asked for something more.
-
The Velujees waved tendrils, puzzled,
The Sorka stood with wrinkled muzzles,
Not a single order muttered,
While politicians coughed and sputtered,
The Arrivals stood, their demand uttered,
And threatened death and gore.
-
Among alliances, panic spread,
Like twine breaking off a tensioned thread,
Anarchy spread across their worlds,
Order and law flew off unfurled,
Into space the Arrivals hurled,
A lance of ice and hoar.
-
As one planet died, they tried to fight,
Resisting the Arrivals with all their might,
But one by one, each fleet was destroyed,
The Arrivals unharmed, but quite annoyed,
Their demand sent again into the void,
This time, it was not ignored.
-
In a haste, all leaders searched,
And came upon the globe called Earth,
With trepidation seldom seen,
They broke their own quarantine,
Contacted those they thought obscene,
The nuclear apes deplored.
-
“They want what? Is that all?”
The United Nations answered the call,
It was obvious from the very start,
The answer was not guns but heart,
To the universe rare, Earth’s finest art:
The pen of laughter, sans the sword.
-
We sent the man we all elected,
The Arrivals addressed by our selected,
Sweating and nervous, he spoke and quivered,
While the galaxy listened and shivered,
To the Arrivals the routine was delivered,
Their response came as a roar.
-
To us they sent a debt of thanks,
For filling up their engines’ tanks,
Whoever thought that death would Arrive,
Faster than light on a Humor Drive,
They blinked out, leaving us all alive,
And the galaxy staring at… Fluffy.
| 2017-09-25T10:35:28 | 2017-09-25T10:07:02 | 80 | 17 |
[WP] On everyone's 25th birthday, they gain the ability to shapeshift into an animal. The animal is always random for every person. People once laughed at the animal you got, but 10 years later are now envious of what you can do. | People often ask me questions that are made to taunt me.
“How does it feel being *that* weak?”
“Don’t you wish you could have been something more useful?”
“Aren’t you tired of being that?”
The questions themselves aren’t too bad. I can brush them off with no problem, I’ve always been particularly thick-skinned. No, what makes me angry is the blatant disregard, the instant underestimation of me as a person, purely based on what I can shift into.
After all, not many people hear of someone turning into a very specific breed of frog, the Bruno’s Casque-Headed frog.
You see, while I may be small and weak, not able to hold my own in a fight against almost anyone in terms of sheer power... I instead have a different power.
My friends and coworkers started becoming afraid of me when learned how to only shift a very small part of my body. A very important part.
Casque-headed frogs have small, incredibly sharp spikes on our heads. Those spikes are constantly covered in toxins, enough to cause people to feel excruciating pain of even a frog gets into their bloodstream. We’re incredibly venomous, and excessive venom can lead to death. A very, very painful death.
I had learned how to shift so my spikes were formed, but the rest of my body remained human. This would have been a terrifying discovery by itself... but think about the size of the spines when on a human body opposed to a frog’s. They would be huge, right? Equally venomous, and huge. A single prick of one of the spines would kill a person instantly.
Now let’s put that into practice. I’ll tell you about a situation I was in not too long ago.
I was hanging around at a club, minding my own business in the corner, when a man came up to me with two drinks. I thought it was strange, considering that he didn’t look like the queer type and that this wasn’t a gay bar, but hey-Ho. Any opportunity to find love, am I right?
After talking for a considerable amount of time, I saw him try to slip something in my drink - the fourth of its kind. I didn’t take to that very kindly.
When I made to grab his hand, my vision red from anger, I found that I had spikes on my own hand. They had obviously pricked him, and he yelped, shot back in his chair, and died.
It was then I realised that I could be incredibly dangerous. I could make my entire body covered in venomous spines. I could be unstoppable.
It didn’t take long after that for people to learn that being a big animal didn’t necessarily mean that you were invincible. After all, small animals had to adapt to survive the bigger ones.
Especially Casque-Headed Frogs. | Was I upset about getting the snake? Not really. Something vegetarian might've been a bit more palatable to be sure, but it's not so bad. People had their opinions of course; I'd say it's human nature but that's kind of a contradiction now isn't it? It's interesting, how a creature so feared in the world could also be so scorned. *"You don't even have limbs!" "What good are you like that?" "You're just a symbol of evil!"*
Honestly, I really don't even do much. Some sunning, some climbing, a rat every now and then...almost like clockwork. The shedding itches something fierce, but new skin is a pretty glorious feeling. The constant tongue flicking was cumbersome at first, but being able to smell with my mouth is actually a pretty cool experience. Not blinking is still rather odd, and I could do without the poor vision, but I'm not a whiner.
So fickle though, how opinions like that can change over a decade. People find out your new lifespan and get a little envious. Those poor suckers who get the power (and new lifespan) of flies...well...sucks to be them I guess. And while the scorn remains, so does the fear, and hidden sense of respect. No limbs, yet still an effective killer. I hugged a lot as a kid, did that factor in? I'll never know I guess. Above all else though, there's the fame.
We're "exotic" you see; sensual, slow, deadly, and alluring. Charmers think we dance; playing along reaps better rewards. TV shows, music videos; my good friend Kendra was actually in a movie a few years back. CGI version of her was dreadful though. I've got my fair share of appearances too, and they all want to know what it's like. The albino nerd who made it big in show biz! I tell them of course; it's nice to know I'm raking in the bucks while Cooper slobbers over some suburban drunk housewife in Cincinnati.
Anyway, I gotta go. Curtain's in five and I'm due on the shoulders of the newest blonde pop sensation. You know how it is! Oh wait...you don't. Enjoy your mediocrity filled life as some one horse town pet or something! Ssssssssssayonara! | 2021-05-02T20:58:55 | 2021-05-02T20:19:46 | 38 | 22 |
[WP] You are a normal person who spent your entire life infiltrating the evil Empire. You even became the Emperor's right hand. The day before you finally topple the Empire, the hero arrives, kills the Emperor, and saves the day.
Now how does that make you feel? | "Weren't you suppose to take that blow?"
I looked at this irritating woman incredulously. Was she serious?
"It is good fortune you didn't, but I thought that Xavier Longwood would have protected Kane even if his men had abandoned him."
"So you know of me?" I couldn't help but respond. I looked at the trio of misfits who had accompanied this women into the Emperor's suite. Two hulking brothers who had the IQ of a toad and some gangly archer had subdued the half dozen guards and two other councilmen who had been staying with the Emperor.
"I memorized all of the important people in the Empire, why wouldn't the Emperor's second be any different? The man born a baker's son and has spent fifty years becoming much more." Her sword was still pointing in my direction, so there was no way she trusted me. It was what it was.
I let out a sigh. "Of course." I finally recognized her dark green hair, with a natural shading that I had only seen once before. "You must be the daughter of that Planter fellow. The one who stabbed the emperor as Prince Arn since he had a forest razed. I'm guessing this is your revenge?" I was only talking to avoid getting killed. This event had occured twenty years before, early in my infiltration into the Empire when the old emperor ruled
"My father was not some fellow! He was a protector of the forest, a title handed down since the true rulers of Scoren reigned, the Winchesters! A forest your emperor destroyed for no good reason! One of them many evil things you helped him do. You have served this empire for decades, and have stayed quiet as he ended thousands. Why shouldn't I kill you as you stand?" The heroine began to point her sword in a far more threatening manner.
"Did you forget about Wallace and Monroe? Or the Emperor's youngest brother Stallone? You have done nothing except ruin the end of the Empire." I began to work into my rant, but I was cut off.
"Ruin the end? I know what he was doing here. He was going to kill the Lamons ambassador and declare war on them for the resources of the Western Sea. And it would have been either fight for the Emperor or die!"
"It was going to be a coup that ended the Kane empire you fools!" I realized the eyes of the allies to the hero in the room were on me, and that all others were dead. I was the last to enter this room with the former emperor to live. I was going to make the mercy count.
"You have no idea who the ambassador from Lamons is, now do you?"
The four of them couldn't help but shake their heads. The archer pointed his bow in the direction of Allen, one of the dead councilmen. "No, we only got from spying on him the plot to kill him." He seemed the too honest type.
"It is Sly Kane."
"Impossible! He was executed last year for defying the emperor! He had no remorse for his nephew."
"But I did, and forced another prisoner to take his place. And I sent him to Lamons, where he gathered the trust of the royalty and we continued our plot to end the Empire. So tomorrow, while the Emperor comes with 30 men and his close advisors, Lamons had brought 300. It would have been a bloodbath that ended everyone relevant to the Empire. And as the highest ranking heir. Sly would have taken the throne and converted power into a parliament, much like Lamons is. But with the Emperor dead, those men I spoke of earlier will run and know something is up. The assault on Lamons will occur and many men and women will die to your overzealousness."
They looked shaken as I told them this, as I explained to them their folly. Then one of the oafs spoke.
"But if we kill them, we still good?"
"Huh? You mean Wallace and Monroe and Stallone and the others that would have been there? They are spread in multiple locations, with many a guard. Arn was arrogant and thought he would not be attacked and brought among his weakest with him."
"But Lamons has 300 men you said." The oaf pointed a giant hole in my logic.
He was right. If we attacked now, this could be salvaged. "Alright, but we must move fast. Stallone will be here shortly to speak with his brother, and he will alert the rest once he sees the dead. Sly is staying in a tavern not far from here, while Lamons decoy ambassador is three floors below. We must move quickly." I began to look at the heroine who still was pointing her sword threateningly at me.
She looked around and sighed before putting her sword down. "Fine, but I will help. I wish to meet this future leader, and to see if he is true or if he is using you to further his goals."
I chuckled as I went to gather my cloack I needed for this excursion. "I have been doing this for longer than you have been alive. Waiting for this day to end it all at once. If I thought Sly could betray me, I would have let him die." I made sure it covered my face well enough and made my way to the door.
"Let us finish this."
| Today is the day I kill Emperor Fargon.
The crimes he committed must no longer remain unpunished. The people of the Hilmon Galaxy need their savior, and I will be that man to them. I am a champion of the common folk, the light in the dark void of an amoral empire, the hero hiding behind the guise of the Emperor's right hand man.
It's been nearly a decade since I infiltrated the empire. Years ago I lived peacefully as a jorb farmer on Grillax with a loving wife and two young daughters, ages 7 and 12 respectively. My jorbs won accolades for being the juiciest jorbs on the planet. Oh yes, I lived the Grillaxian dream.
Then the empire stole my happiness away.
The skies darkened. Above my inconspicuous farm hovered a quite conspicuous Heliship. Suddenly, men armed with scimitar shotguns rained on my farm and our village. Later I learned a foreign spy had taken residence in the local pub, but that moment felt as if we were being punished for nothing. The swarm knocked me unconscious before I had time to blink.
As my eyes reopened and the fog lifted from my concussed brain, I noticed him. Emperor Fargon loomed over my wife's dead body and turned to my children. Tears began streaming down my face. I opened my mouth to cry out for help, I told my body to rush to my daughters and save them from this fiend, but my body was paralyzed from the head injury. He reached out to my eldest daughter and snapped her neck without a hesitation, as if he were playing a game and had no humanity left in his soul. Then he grabbed my younger daughter and took her as his prisoner. All feeling left my heart except for rage. I vowed at that moment I would be the one to end the Empire's reign and feel the Emperor's neck snap between my cold hands. I blacked out.
When I awoke, I set out with my plan. I burned half of my face to hide my identity. Then, I joined the Empire to take them down from the inside. I killed for the Empire time and time again as I slowly moved up the ranks. The blood on my hands kept me awake every night, but I made sure to only end the lives of soldiers and not civilians. I will not stoop to Fargon's level. Finally I reached a rank where the Emperor would listen to my advice. A couple of well thought out counter strikes against the Resistance and I earned myself a seat as the Emperor's right hand man.
Tonight, the Emperor asked me to make him a feast. We just conquered Talian, one of the final Resistance holding spots, and it was time for celebration. I knew I could not physically take the Emperor down myself, so I concocted poison that will render him unconscious so I can feel his neck snap in my hands like he felt my innocent daughter's neck snap.
The food is here now, and the emperor picks up his fork to enjoy his final meal. My time is finally here......
Rosencrantz, a no name soldier, rushes in.
"There's a breach in the ship's hull, sir!" he screeches. The Emperor looks displeased.
"Send out the first unit and take care of these pests."
As he spews the command, he stands up from his meal.
"No time for food now, we must reach the planning room."
Fuck. Well, the meal will be here for him to consume later.
"Yes, master," I say begrudgingly, having thought my days of groveling were over just moments ago.
We briskly walk through the corridors. And then, he walks in. Tall, dark, and handsome. He flashes a grin with sparkling charisma and draws his pulse cannon. He aims at me.
Blam.
My ass skids across the floor. I am in a delirium. As I come to I notice a blade entering the Great Leader. Oh. He is dead now. How about that. Not even a snapped neck.
"Looks like I'm just a cut above the rest," the hero chortled. Maybe I will snap his neck instead.
He points his gunblade at me.
Bang.
The gunshot punctures my lung.
"Fuck... I.. was going to kill him today you fool... why..." I gurgled to our new hero.
"Aw well, I guess some people are just casualties of war."
Is that all I am? My entire family, including myself, are just casualties of war? I killed hundreds... no, thousands of men fighting for the Resistance just to gain the trust of one man to kill. I stood by his side as he destroyed civilization after civilization. And I am now dying as his right hand man after watching him die. I will die a villain.
Oh well, at least the benefits were nice.
Curtain. | 2017-03-12T13:26:11 | 2017-03-12T10:31:44 | 124 | 77 |
[WP] You are a vampire. You have a weakness to true faith, which manifests as a blinding aura around the rare individuals who possess it. You been watching a certain human for weeks trying to figure out what they have faith in, it certainly isn't any religion. | TW; Suicide
Faith. It’s the bane of my existence, literally. As a vampire of middle-class, my weakness reflects the inward soul of my buffet table that is the world. The vampires you’ve heard about, with the holy water, garlic, sunlight and what-not are the unfortunate vampires who were reborn in less than ideal circumstances. But faith is my big thing, like a bright light projecting their soul for all vampires to see. It also helps me pick out hypocrites from a mile away that claim they are faithful but sure as hell are not.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely immune and can devour the faithful, in fact they taste better than average. It just hurts me in the long run. Probably some cruel joke made by the big guy, but whatever. I was craving faith, and I’d been following this strange man who was brighter than any other human I’d seen before. Usually anyone on this level spent all day in a religious building or doing volunteering, not this one. He just walked around, scanning the streets looking for something.
On one hand, I could just corner him, have my fill and last another week or so before coming back for more, but some part of me; the tiny shred of humanity left, was curious. So like an idiot, I approached the man as he wandered through a park with children running about. He noticed me come up to him and stopped.
“Hello sir, I’m part of a group of university students doing a survey on what people believe in most.” The key was a fast-paced introduction, humans don’t generally question someone’s words when they are spoken in a rush. He gives a faint greeting and smiles at me like I’m an idol of his.
“You want to know what I believe in?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I can’t remember very well.”
That little sentence knocked me back a bit. No religion at all? It seemed a bit far-fetched, but I wanted to look into it further.
“That is okay, I can just put you down as ‘other’. Now, what do you think you have the most faith in?” I queried him. He just smiled and said two words: “my son.”
“Your son?”
He went on to explain how his son always came to his house after he was diagnosed with short-term memory loss. He hadn’t seen his son in a few days and wanted to find his house, but couldn’t remember where it was. The man took great pride in telling me that his son had just been discharged from the army.
“Tom Collinhood.” I froze. I had a habit of going to cemeteries (I know, cliché vampire trope) and I remembered standing in front of that name. I pulled up a phone and did a quick search and Tom Collinhood’s name was paired with a news article. ‘Tragic suicide of veteran leaves public questioning the care of military mental health.’
Titled: seven months ago.
This poor man had been searching for a long dead son, having faith that one day, he would see him again.
I never touched a bright-soul again. | I crouched beneath the bushes watching the man sit in the park late at night. He was an older man, not really someone who I would 'hunt', but something about him intrigued me. I could see the bright white aura glowing around him, brighter than any I had seen before. He had the purest, truest faith, and I felt drawn to it. So I began to follow him.
He had never gone near any temple or church, and in his home I never witnessed him pray. There were no religious jewellery hanging off his neck or fingers. What was it this man had such a blinding faith in? With all of the evil in the world, what had made him so bright?
"You can come out you know." The man's voice called out calmly. "I know that you're here, it's okay. I'm not afraid of you." I stood from my bush and came out of the shadows. The man turned around and looked at me. "I've felt you following me the last few weeks. I've felt it in my bones. Arthritis, you see." He held up his seemingly mangled fingers.
"Why didnt you say anything before?"
"I wanted to see if you'd find what you were looking for. Did you?"
"No." I didn't want to admit it.
"Sit with me. Ask me anything you want." I crept to the bench and sat beside the man, the light hurting slightly.
"You're not a man of God."
"You're right, I'm not. I'm a man of myself."
"What do you mean?"
"All I have? It's because of me. That house you saw? I built it in my twenties when I asked my wife to marry me. The pond in the back? I dug it myself. I married a woman I loved and who loved me. I raised my children well, they're happy healthy people. I have everything J ever wanted, all because of me. No god could have built my house for me, or courted my wife, or raised my kids. No god could have given my children an education, no god could have given me the job I loved. This is all mine. All because of me. I know I'm old and alone now, Maggie passed away ten years ago and my kids have kids of their own. But I'm a happy man, whether I die tonight or not, because I believed in myself." He turnd to me with wise old eyes. "I believe in you too. Whatever you are or whatever you do. I believe in you." | 2019-04-26T01:39:08 | 2019-04-26T00:34:29 | 28 | 18 |
[WP] When a twin dies their brother/sister acquires all their strength, intelligence, etc. You've just discovered this phenomena, but so has your brother/sister | "It's not worth it," I heard.
I can hear my heart beat. My healthy, fully functional, 18 year old heart.
"Please don't do this." My brother, again.
My brother is in there. His heart is beating, but it can't be calm. Mine is a slow thumping noise.
"It won't fix anything. It won't." He referenes a debt that cannot be repaid.
His must be erratic. He has been sick for a long time.
"C'mon man, open up!" He is agitated. It's not good for him.
I cock the revolver. It make a slick noise. I am calm.
"This won't make us even."
I can hear his sobbing. I lift up the gun.
"Life won't be worth living without a twin."
"It won't work. It won't make me better."
I taste the steel. Any chance is worth it.
| (Side note to start: I actually have a twin)
Upon being told this news, my brother and I look at each other.
"Well, we always wanted to kill each other anyways." he says.
"I know. Hey, want some koolaid?"
"Sure." He drinks the koolaid. He keels over dead.
"On second thought," I ponder, "It may not have been worth it. You didn't have any strength or intelligence." | 2018-02-25T08:15:55 | 2018-02-25T08:13:41 | 1,595 | 12 |
[WP] Throughout the galaxy Humans are well known as being the most peaceful race--and have become well respected as diplomats and traders. But that's because up until now, no-one knew of the three World Wars we fought before first contact. | “Well, it was good while it lasted,” Bannerjee mumbled to herself.
As her fingers wrapped around the flight controls the “ARE YOU SURE?” Light was flashing at the full four times a second indicating she’d already pressed yes four times, she glanced out at the stardust reflecting the more impressive stars in the Pleiades. Her momentary reverie was broken, rudely she thought, by the silhouette of the Alcyone corvette that had destroyed her primary thrusters in a surprise attack. Once more was all it would take. There would be no going back from a final press.
She’d been at .92C for a week in her relativistic timeframe. She’d been effectively cut off from any communication with StrelCo back home, or any of the others in the convoy. Communicating at light speed is not exactly easy. But it didn’t take long to get up to speed on the situation after she turned on the polar-inertial drive and came to an almost instantaneous stop. The debris field gave the first clue. Her primary thrusters exploding with well-aimed mass driver rounds was the second. The convoy was lost.
Bannerjee came from a long line of traders and tradesmen. Her mother had made a fortune at Strelco by negotiating the expansion of the trading lanes to the Seven Sisters of the Pleiades. Her father led the first trade convoy himself. It really was a family affair, and a profitable one at that.
Three new civilizations, all but unknown to the galactic community at large due to their varying levels of hostility and/or mute derision toward any race that tried to open a dialogue. Mohtma Bannerjee somehow talked them into allowing a limited trade on each of their worlds. Once trade was established to whet their appetite, the Alcyones were eager to taste even more. The Taygetans and the Maians were… less enthusiastic, but seemed at least willing to honor their contracts. The Alcyones seemed just as willing. Until now.
Still the question flashed, insistence and silent pleading to reconsider designed into its programming. ARE YOU SURE?
She was, most assuredly, not sure.
Humanity fought its last world war two-hundred-forty-three years prior. Every human was indoctrinated with the dates of the beginning and ending of the conflict that all but destroyed their species. The weapons they used: mechanical, chemical, biological, radiological, psychological, were all memorized as a matter of course by every school child. And the consequences of using any weapon of war ever again was considered tantamount to suicide. No, worse than suicide, it would be torture of all humanity to relive it.
Trade had been the driving force to end the war. And Corporations had risen up to take the place of the smoldering ruins that had once housed the seats of government. Strelco was a multi-planetary institution focused on science and engineering development for the profit for all humanity. There was even talk to change the last bit of their mission to, “profit for all life in the galaxy.” If she pressed this button though, the change of their mission statement would be the last thing they discussed in the next board meeting.
Her eyes narrowed, the unshed tears making the beautiful stellar nursery blurry outside her window. Bannerjee knew without a doubt her father was dead. Likely her mother was too. He had been heading this convoy. She was having heated renegotiation meetings on the Alcyone homeworld. And the Alcyone captain of the corvette through her window had just informed Bennerjee in that uniquely cocky tone of his race, that she was going to be a prisoner of war. And she was to be kept alive in order to inform the rest of the naive, wealthy, peace-loving, idiotic human race that the Alcyones now owned them. And unless they wanted the first several meters of their homeworld turned to glass from orbit, they would surrender the riches of their Corporations and become eternal vassals of the Alcyone empire. It was a declaration of war.
Humanity had avoided all mention of their warlike past. The galaxy hadn’t seen a large-scale conflict in many THOUSANDS of years. How could The Earth Corporate Hegemony even hope to be taken seriously on a galactic level if everyone knew humanity had almost wiped itself out a mere couple hundred years ago? Hell, there were still some veterans of that war painting pictures at lakeside retirement homes back on Earth.
She hit the NO response, large and insistent, on the flashing touchscreen. It faded to it's standard life-support readout with an almost relived electronic beep. She decided she was ready to die if necessary to protect humanity’s secrets. After all, the others before her had apparently done the same, including her father. If helping secure humanity’s place among the stars wasn’t an ideal worth dying for, she didn’t know what was.
But then the oddest thing happened.
The captain reopened the comm channel.
Her computer translated his words, but apparently his expression didn’t match what he was saying, and the program was working out the kinks, “Agree, we won’t have to kill everyone no matter what happens or that you agree to.”
She frowned, as she tried to work through what kind of logic the computer used to translate that gibberish. A gesture and the computer split the translation into two similar videos. One translated the speech; one translated the expression and body language.
“Agree, and we won’t have to kill every one of your kind,” came the audio on the spoken translation.
“Agree or not, we will take your possessions and kill every one of your kind no matter what happens anyway.” came the translation from the expression. The Alcyones had never submitted to any behavioral or biometric scans, so all the information had been gathered surreptitiously and via video conferencing. It was definitely a work in progress, and almost no one ever trusted the biometric translator. It was due to be uninstalled in the next software rollout. It was an idiotic program that caused five problems for any ONE that it ever solved.
And at that moment, Bannerjee knew beyond the shadow of a doubt it was %100 accurate.
The Alcyones were planning a genocide of her species, thinking they were the softest, most valuable prey they’d ever encountered. And after blinking away her tears and grinding her teeth, she flipped up the guard and hit the DEPLOY button four times in quick succession. 1,2,3,4… and the ARE YOU SURE warning had only enough time to blink once before she slammed her thumb down on the tiny button labelled, “yes”.
The Alcyones had assumed humans were a prey species. To be herded and farmed and domesticated. Drained of their fat and meat, and discarded. Cattle.
The captain of the corvette had no way of knowing War was in her blood. Competition drove life on her world, and every human born had the capacity to kill or be killed when driven to their breaking point. The fact that humans ARE a prey species is what drives them to be able to wage war like no other species in the galaxy. Killing is the only reason they survived. Humans expect war. Humans are incapable of being defenseless. Humans ALWAYS plan to be betrayed.
The response the captain received to his demand for surrender was nearly instant, and delivered with conviction.
Bannerjee’s cargo was explosively jettisoned as the passive optical targeting systems detected and prioritized the surprisingly poorly defended fuel tanks and command bridge. With no radar or lidar on the human ship to give prior warning of target painting, the Alcyone captain had no clue why she dropped her cargo. No warning systems were activated. This human’s ship was dead in the water, she couldn’t run, no matter how much weight she jettisons. Perhaps she was trying to bribe him with all this treasure?
It wasn’t until the arming of the first of the sixteen million, seven hundred seventy seven thousand, two hundred sixteen nano warheads hidden in her bay and jettisoned with her cargo, that the initial warning light flashed on his bridge. The second through eightieth lit the entire bridge with chaotic yellow and green warnings as those warheads fired their microseconds of thrust to launch themselves at their targeted subsystems. He had barely enough time to recover from shock before his bridge and fuel ignited in nearly a million miniature fusion explosions. The rest of the ship was blown apart half a second later.
Along with the launch, an automated narrow beam warning was sent to StrelCo headquarters and would be relayed to every other human Corporation. “Violence initiated. War declared.” Humanity’s secret was out.
"Nothing lasts forever," Bannerjee whispered to the stars.
|
**THE SECTOR ARCHIVES**
***
The alarm sounded throughout the archive facility. Flashing lights of red and white lined the center of the steel plated hall walls, stripped like luminous tape, blinking darker red in the direction of the obstruction.
The halls were empty. A door opened and a man still putting on a military uniform, sleek and solid gray, fitted to the slenderness of his shoulders, stepped out. Upon his chest was an emblem of the Planet Earth, with the letters SC-M beneath it.
"Major!" An Staff Sergeant approached in frantic run, wearing a similar gray uniform of a lighter shade, under his Earth emblem were the letters: SC-SS
The Major started speedily down the hall as he adjusted his shirt buttons. "Staff Sergeant, tell me something good." The Major was a tall rigid man with a square jaw and sunken cheeks. Everything about him looked clean cut and military, and his eyes moved fixed.
"We destroyed their ship on approach, they came from the coordinates, just as you said they would."
"Then why am I woken by the sound of the archive alarm breech, Staff Sergeant?" They turned a corner, and passed through another empty hall, still glowing changing colors from the alarm lights.
"One jump ship broke through and docked --"
The Major halted and his glare shook the Staff Sergeant. It wasn't imposing in a way one might see a villain. It was void of emotion and made the Major hard to read -- that's what made his men so obedient.
"-- but we got them as soon as the hatch opened, Major," the Staff Sergeant stated proudly. "Four were killed in the cross fire."
"I'll ask again, why was I woken by the archive alarm breach," the Major said.
"One got through -- but we got him! The stun-field at the second threshold of the archives disabled his armor and incapacitated him. We have him waiting for you to question."
"Good," the Major started off and stepped in an elevator that glowed green and the Staff Sergeant scurried after him.
"What species is the intruder?" the Major asked.
***
Interrogation rooms have little ways to evolve over time. It's one of the few things that seem to have hit it's max of advancement. So, there in a black walled room with two chairs across from one another sat a red-skinned, bald headed man with broad shoulders, black eyes, and thick spine like ridges down his forearm.
The Major entered without any dramatics.
"Scan shows us that you're a Tramlidin by the name of Eeasi. You own a bakery." The Major smirked. "You have two children and vacation to the south of your world were your in-laws live."
The General seated himself and crossed his legs gently. He gestured at the red-skinned man. "Now, clearly by looking at you I can see you are no Tramlidin by the name of Eeasi. And I highly doubt you own a bakery."
"I could own a bakery," the red-skinned man joked.
"You could," the Major conceded. "But the fact that you are six-foot-two red-skinned Hadraxian makes it obvious to any partly intelligent being that you are not possibility, nor have you ever been, a Tramlidin, who stand at three-foot-two and have white skin and blue eyes."
The red-skinned man laughed and the Major smirked. "It is humous. It's as though you didn't even make an attempt to hide your identity if you were scanned. Yet," the Major unfolded his legs and leaned over, "the fact that you were able to alter official DNA records that span across all the aligning governments -- that I find disturbing. Almost as disturbing as your feign attempt to conceal your identity."
"I worry you," the red-skinned man said. "Thanks for being so honest."
The Major leaned back. "I'm a transparent man. It is not you that worries me but the situation. What is your name?"
"Eeasi," the red-skinned man smiled. "I own a bakery."
The Major inspected every inch of this peculiar intruder. "The Hadraxian's are a kind race, despite their less than attractive appearance --- what would make a Hybrid Human Hadraxian break a long sanctioned sector law? I wonder."
They sat in silence, trying to break one another down without words.
"Why would you and a band of pirates want to break into an Sector Archive?"
"This sector archive," the red-skinned man said.
"This one?" The Major mocked. "What makes us so special?"
"Stop playing games, Major. You know why I'm here. And I know I don't walk out of this alive."
"Oh, God. So grim. You're one of those conspiracy maniacs aren't you."
"Ah, you and the people of your planet have done such a fine job at pushing propaganda that any who question the validity of Earth's ever-long peacefulness must be warmongering monsters."
The Major leaned back, enjoying the rant of the mad man.
"But I know your secret. I know what Earth is. What humans can do -- what they have done to their own people for the entirety of their history!"
"It's fascinating that this underground movement still survives after all these years," the Major mocked.
Then in abrupt moment the red-skinned man lunged forward, ready to kill, his hands went around the Major's throat and they both tumbled to the ground, each wrestling for the high ground.
"Do I worry you now?!" The red-skinned man screamed.
Armed guards stormed the room just as the Major flipped his opponent around, drew his side gun and pressed it to the rigid red forehead beneath him.
The armed guards stood ready.
"You see what peace drives beings to do -- they seek out war were there is none," the Major told his men.
"Words from a split-tongued species. Tell me this Major, why would an average archive facility be this remote in the sector, and why is it armed with enough weaponry to take down a planet sentry ship?"
The red-skinned man pushed his forehead into the barrel of the gun. "I know the truth Major -- all your diplomacy, all the lies your species have told, it has been a giant front from the very start, from your first contact. You're not peaceful, you pretend to be traders and diplomats and a walk a neutral line, but you have ulterior motives."
The armed guards stirred, curious by the words they were hearing. If there was a conspiracy underway, they had no knowledge of it. The Major on the other hand, his eyes betrayed him.
"Gathering endless data of military outposts, weapons, species, their history, weakness in war --- oh I'm almost impressed with your commitment, play the neutral party -- your kind has no interest in true equality, only a artificial peace for all others, while you hold the key to undoing it all!"
The Major leaned close, keeping the gun to the aliens head all the while, and he whispered in his ear so no other could hear.
"What you describe is not a betrayal of peace. It's self preservation."
An electric boom erupted throughout the room, the soldiers flinched and nearly fired their own weapon. The red-skin man went limp. A perfect circular hole through his skull still sparked with electricity --- strands of white coiled in and out of existence until all the energy in his body died and the only thing visible through his skull was the metallic floor on the opposite end.
The Major stood and exited the room, brushing shoulders with his men. "Take the traitor's body to the inspection officers," he said. "Tell them to run a structural scan of all flesh and tissue. I want to know who that was."
***
Thanks for reading. Really feel like this story could grow.
[/r/wyrdfiction](https://reddit.com/r/wyrdfiction)
| 2017-05-01T10:35:11 | 2017-05-01T09:52:26 | 170 | 89 |
[WP] With no other choice left you summon the devil. It becomes very awkward when your Dad that 'left to buy cigarettes' suddenly appears in the circle. | I stared at him. He stared back at me, he didn't break eye contact.
"Really?" I asked.
"Really what?" He quirked his head to the side. "You summoned the devil, and I am here."
"You really are the worst." I said under my breath. "Do really don't recognize me?"
"I make a LOT of deals. Everyone loves power, and I'm the guy to go to when you need it." He gave a devilish smile, confident and so sure of himself.
"He doesn't even recognize me." I said, purposefully just loud enough for him to hear. "You REALLY don't recognize me."
He squinted and his head came the slightest bit forward. "Are you the guy who wanted to turn everything he touched to..."
"I'm not fucking Midas DAD!"
The bastard broke into a laugh. "Of course I recognize you Sam!"
I wanted to slap him. "John dad, my name is fucking John."
That cock sure grin wouldn't leave his damned face. "You know, I have just so many kids they all look the same." He didn't have the decency for feel the least bit of shame. "So what's the deal you hope to make?"
I let out a breath. I wanted to strangle him. To throttle him. He left me and mom, we had nothing. "Mom's sick. I need the ABILITY to earn enough quickly to get her the help she needs before she dies."
He nodded, a carnivores grin on his face. "I can do that, but I can't keep your mother alive." He shrugged. "So here's the deal. I'll give you the ability to earn what you need to pay for her treatment, and keep that payment up. I'll request something from you in the future, and if it's in your power to do it, you will. It won't cost you any pain, your mother any pain, or your loved ones any pain, but when I ask it of you, you must get it done without asking questions. Do we have a deal?"
A deal with the devil never goes as planned. Everyone knew this. Everyone knew not to make a deal with the devil, you always pay more than you earn. But god never answered my prayers and no angels would offer help. She was dying, the woman who raised me and loved me all my life. "Deal" I said. I couldn't hurt her. Her life was always full of sacrifices, many made because this bastard left her.
We shook hands. I felt sick. He owed me so much more than he'd ever given me, owed my mother for all the pain he caused her. I was paying for something he should have been giving for free. Something any decent man would offer after all he cost us. But my dad wasn't any sort of decent man. Wasn't a man at all. Turns out, he was the devil, and not just figuratively. | "Dad?" I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. He was still there, exactly the same as how I remembered him - though maybe the beer belly had gotten a little larger, the dark circles under his eyes a little more sunken.
He sheepishly rubbed the back of his balding head. "Hey, boyo, hadn't meant for you to find out this way. I was going to tell you, I promise."
"When? When were you going to tell me?" As my initial surprise faded, the decades-old anger of abandonment quickly surfaced. "Right after you 'bought your cigarettes'? Yeah, right."
"Look," my dad, the angel of the bottomless pit, said. "Things were complicated. There were secrets that I couldn't tell your mother. Or you. I wanted to keep you both safe."
"Bullshit." My hands were shaking, but I picked up some of the lamb's intestines near the summoning circle and threw them at his face. "You didn't give a shit about keeping us safe. You ran away. You didn't leave any explanation. I think it took me two months to realize that you weren't ever going to come back. Hell, I'm surprised at how you're the 'Prince of Darkness' and all that, if you're so bad at responsibilities. You shouldn't be any kind of leadership position at all."
He deftly dodged the viscera and raised his hands in a placating manner. "I'm here now, aren't I son? Doesn't that count for anything?"
I rolled my eyes. He was here because I had dragged him out of the Infernal Realm with a summoning spell that was impossible to circumvent. He literally hadn't had any other option but to obey. But his question reminded me of the greater danger that awaited. "Alright, dad." The word sounded funny in my mouth after so many years of disuse. "Or Lucifer? The Morningstar? What do I call you?"
"Dad is fine," he replied, smiling sadly at me. I ignored the tug on my heartstrings. He didn't deserve to be forgiven so easily.
"Actually, no, I don't think I'm ready to call you dad yet," I replied. "Anyways, Lucifer. Let's set our differences aside for now. I'm sure that you know the world is in danger - we'll deal with that first."
\---
/r/theBasiliskWrites | 2021-11-25T08:15:41 | 2021-11-25T06:29:15 | 615 | 70 |
[WP] Your 6 year old daughter is laying on her bed, terrified. She says there’s a monster under her bed. To reassure her, you lay on the ground and check underneath, only to find your daughter, quivering. She whispers, “Daddy, there’s something on top of my bed...” | I probably look ridiculous in my ratty sports jersey and pajama bottoms, skittering backwards like a startled spider on my hands and knees across the bedroom floor, my mouth hanging open in dumb shock.
I blink, stare, and blink again. There was Emily, under the bed, curled up in the dark among discarded toys and dust bunnies.
...And there she was on top of the bed, wrapping her heavy comforter around herself like a hooded cloak. The mirror-image girls both stare at me with eyes like saucer plates, scared and expectant.
I don’t want to be here. I’m not even remotely equipped to deal with this. I consider leaving the room, shutting the door. Perhaps when I open it in the morning things will have sorted themselves out, and there will be one Emily again.
I close my eyes, count to three, open them again. Still two daughters. Shit.
“Daddy?” says the Emily under the bed. Her other self above flinches at the sound, pulls the blanket tighter around her.
I stand up on shaking legs, turn on the lights in the room. I wish Sharon was here. Well, not really. I wish it wasn’t the weekend, and Emily was with Sharon instead of me. I bet Sharon would know what to do in a situation like this. Sharon has her shit together.
Standing up I can only see the child on top of the bed now, which helps. “Emily,” I say, softly, trying to sound calm, “Get away from the bed and come here.”
This was a bad decision. Both daughters obediently move towards me. As one Emily begins to gingerly step down from the bed the other emerges right below her feet, and they both see each other. The room is filled with two identical high pitched screams, loud enough to make my ears ring.
The girl from under the bed scrambles out and runs to me. She grabs my pant leg and clings for dear life. I tense and look down at her. There is a lego piece stuck in her unruly hair. She doesn’t sprout tentacles or fangs and start tearing into me, which would at least have uncomplicated things.
The other Emily has retreated to the farthest corner of the bed. She holds a pillow in front of her like a protective shield. “Dad, who is she?” she asks in a quavering voice.
I feel disoriented, light-headed. Fear and revulsion struggle with protective paternal instincts.
The girl clinging to me is Emily. I could feel it in my core, am more certain of it than I was aware a person could be. This was my daughter.
But so was the girl on the bed.
I was confused and scared, but so were they. And I didn’t go through half a year of joint custody negotiations to turn tail at a bit of Twilight Zone bullshit.
I take a deep breath. “It’s okay,” I say, to both Emily’s, to myself. I lift up the girl next to me in one of my arms, hold a hand to the one huddled on the bed. “Let’s go to the kitchen. I can make something for us to eat and we can figure this all out.”
The other Emily crawls across the bed and onto my other arm. She gives a suspicious glance at her doppelganger, but says nothing.
We can get through this. I can get through this.
As I carry both girls out of the bedroom, I hear a tapping sound from the closet door, followed by a small voice.
“It’s dark in here, daddy.”
...Fuck.
| I stifle a yawn as I slowly open the door to Jemma's room. A tired smile worms its way onto my face at the sight of her tiny fingers curled over the sheet pulled over her head.
"Jemma," I whisper, "Why are you under your sheets?"
She's silent for a moment, but shakily lowers her blanket, "Daddy...something's under my bed." She fearfully whimpers.
A small sigh escapes my lips, "Are you sure it isn't Mrs. W?"
She quickly shakes her head, darting a hand under her blanket and showing me her stuffed seal.
I hold up my hands, "Alright, alright. I'll check it out."
I walk to her bed, kneeling down. Just then, she harshly whispers, "You won't see anything with the lights off!"
I roll my eyes, but reach out, flicking my hand and turning the lights on.
Then, something moved deeper under my daughter's bed.
I immediately dropped to my knees, recoiling at the sight of my daughter laying face-down on the floor, "Daddy, something's on my bed!" she says.
I sit-up, mind reeling.
"*AH!* Daddy, the closet!" my daughter, the one on the bed, shrieked.
Whirling around, I wrench the closet open.
"Daddy!" yet another version of my daughter exclaims underneath a pile of laundry.
Just then, it clicks, and I can't help but throw my head back, laughing.
"Daddy?" my daughter asks in reverb.
Instead of replying verbally, I snap my finger, and a chair floats in from the hall. Another snap, and my daughter's bed moves back a few feet, revealing the one hiding under the bed.
My daughters scream as they catch sight of one another, though it only lasts for a moment, after which they instead stare at each other confusedly.
"Jemma, the one on the bed," I clarify, "Do me a favor, tap the one beneath you on the shoulder."
Jemma-on-the-bed and Jemma-under-the-bed stare at me uncertainly, but then the one on top shrugs and does as asked. She then yelped as Jemma-under-the-bed disappears in a dull, red light.
Jemma-from-the-closet stared wide-eyed at the display, "What was that?"
"That, would be your power, sweetheart."
Two pairs of eyes lit up in excitement, "Really?!" They exclaim.
I smile widely, ruffling the hair on both their heads, "Yup. Now, why don't we all go downstairs and wait for Mommy, tell her the news?"
They both bob their heads, rushing for the door. However, Jemma-from-the-bed jumps back when she accidentally grabbs Jemma-from-the-closet by the shoulder, making her disappear in a flash of light.
Jemma looks over her shoulder sheepishly. I just shake my head, standing up, "Don't worry, accidents like that will happen. Let me tell you about when I first awakened *my* powers. I still don't think you're aunt ever forgave me for it."
| 2018-04-30T16:31:00 | 2018-04-30T15:45:09 | 84 | 21 |
[WP] You are a completely normal guy with a superhero girlfriend. You know it's a dangerous line of work so you go out of your way to avoid it. You never run into danger to help. You never get involved with investigations. You both just treat it like your girlfriend's day job. Tonight is date night. | Is it easy dating Electragirl?
No, absolutely not.
Is it worth it?
Well ….
I usually do everything I can not to get in her way. I drive 10 miles under the speed limit. I avoid big crowds and tall buildings and long bridges. I specifically chose to take a job in manufacturing logistics at a company that makes chairs, the most boring thing I can think to do.
I wear a disguise when we go out, just like she does. I take all the precautions so I don’t become a causality in this relationship (her last guy was turned into a ferret by a super intelligent squid with a ray gun, don’t even get me started on that) and so I don’t distract her from her work.
So yeah, in my very weakest moments I’m tempted to think that it doesn’t feel worth it, everything I’ve done and given up. But, I mean, let’s face it - she’s saving the world. It’s not like I have a leg to stand on with my own problems.
And I love her, that’s the thing. I love this girl for the supernatural treasure she is. And I guess that’s all that really matters.
But I digress.
Tonight is our five year anniversary, and I’ve really gone all out for it. Flowers, suit, dinner at the fanciest restaurant in the city, diamond ring in my pocket.
If I play my cards right, I will be the future Mr. Electragirl by the end of the evening.
I stop by her place to pick her up, and you could knock me down with a feather. She’s beautiful, all dark hair and deep brown skin and a body that is truly electric tucked into that curve-hugging red dress. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
We get to the restaurant and it’s going great. We’re laughing and talking like normal people, we’ve even gone light on the incognito thing tonight - just a pair of horn rimmed glasses for her and a fake beard for me - I’m glad we look at least something like ourselves. We talk about our families and the next vacation we want to take and everything in the world except the things that always come between us. She’s full of energy and talking with her hands, her laugh is enough to make even the people at the table next to us smile, and she’s just more alive than any person I’ve ever met.
We’re sitting out on the terrace underneath the clear night sky and she’s glowing from the strings of lights hanging above us and I know, I just know that I’d face down every villain in the universe if it meant I got to be here in this moment with her.
Just after the waiter has refilled our champagne, I reach a hand into my pocket.
And right as I’m about to start the speech I’ve been working on for two weeks, the first car alarm starts going off.
It’s a fluke, it has to be a fluke. I clear my throat as I wait for the idiot who hit the wrong button on their key fob to turn it off, but a few seconds later it’s joined by another, and another, and suddenly the streetlights outside the restaurant flicker into darkness. A moment later, the top of a skyscraper a block away bursts into flame and the shockwaves hit us a few seconds after that.
“Babe,” she says, looking up from the last of her tiramisu. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, no, I get it,” I say, reaching out and squeezing her hand, the ring all but forgotten. “Are you going to be ok? I can get home on my own.”
“I’ll be fine.”
I know she will be. She always is.
With that, she’s tearing the front of that red dress right down the middle, the spandex of her super suit unfurling beneath it. She leans across the table to kiss me, and then she’s gone in a crackle of static and a pop of light.
Man, I really do love this girl. It’ll never be easy, but I love her. | We went out to dinner and she went to use the bathroom, that’s when a girl in an olive green dress walks up to our table and attempts to talk to me. This is when everything gets hazy so I’ll let my super cute super hero girl friend tell you the rest of the story.
“Your such a dork ya know that”
Anyway after I come out of the bathroom is when I see him walking away with this girl, I was furious but for a different reason than you think. The last thing he’d do is just ditch me like that, that isn’t like him. So I trail behind them to confirm my suspicions, that was Cupid one my regular villains. His main power is control people with his love power, and he can even shift his shape into a figure most attractive to the individual. The reason he didn’t turn into me? Good question, in any case I was worried and upset that Cupid would go so far as to mess with my boyfriend, so I hid and transformed and went to look for him.
I didn’t really have to many leads but I noticed that Cupid seemed to have left a trail for me, it was way to obvious. I went into the sky and used my supervision to see where the trail lead to, it lead to a wear house. “Of course it’s a wear house it’s always in wear houses do something original Cupid,” I went to the wear house to see my boyfriend knocked out and TIED TO A FRIGGIN BOMB. I didn’t see Cupid anywhere but this all felt way to obvious, and I wasn’t going to try and sneak in a untie him when this was obviously a setup, rookie mistake. Instead I opened up the window slightly and used my laser eyes to quickly and ever so carefully diffuse the bomb. I noticed a lot of crates around and after using my ex-ray vision confirmed they all had nock out gas, more bombs, and Cupid and his goons were hiding in some of them ready with gas masks, I got the plan now.
I decided to play along with there little scheme, I bust in through the roof and shouted “where’s my boyfriend, Cupid!” I heard his laughter coming from his little hiding place, “well let’s see where he’ll go when I do this, he pressed a button, nothing happened. He kept pressing the button while I just walked up to my boyfriend, untied him and was beginning to leave, “WAIT” Cupid screamed as he pressed a different button that was set to all the other explosives, “there’s my cue.” I jumped up as fast as I could and placed a force field around it to contain the explosion, when all the smoke and gas cleared I check the damage all of Cupid’s goons were still there but no Cupid, just a card with an arrow going through a broken heart, aka Cupid’s calling card. “Damn it, next Cupid” I contacted the police and flew away with boyfriend to take him home.
“not one of our top ten best dates huh?”
“Heh you could say that again”
I flew my boyfriend home he was still out cold, I rang the doorbell and his mom answered, and took one good look us and knew that whole story.
“Date go wrong?”
“Yeah”
“Villains attack him this time?”
“Yeah”
“Put him to bed and let you tell him tomorrow?”
“Yes please”
“Would you like some tea?”
“ALWAYS!”
And that’s basically the story, and even when crazy stuff like this happens we still love each other. Because there’s nothing cooler than dating a superhero! | 2021-07-09T22:16:20 | 2021-07-09T20:11:21 | 158 | 26 |
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