prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] Eminem has to tell the history of the earth to a group of aliens in 5 minuets or less.
**EDIT** I'm sorry; I spelled it wrong, it should be "in 5 minutes or less" not "in 5 minuets or less". | Quiet down Martians, let me tell you a little tale,
About my home planet, here's the detail:
A big ball of molten rock like deep fried Metallica,
Got gassed up like it's high off indica,
But don't fear, that was just the atmosphere,
But let me steer, the story a few billion years,
Where shit started popping off,
like sperm cells from my gonads,
I'm talking monads,
Early ancestors of our early ancestor nomads,
They were quite dumb, I ain't got time for flattery,
They had one cell, so a bunch together were a battery,
But not literally, I'm talking phylogenetically,
If I went Back-teria and rapped in that era , I'd be a pro-karyote,
You know what I'm Saiyan? I'd be Kakarot,
As for Eu-karyote? You're al-gae like YMCA,
Then came the greens and leaves,
For our needs: to eat and smoke weed,
All this shit was going on at sea,
til one guy stood up like he was the real Me,
And walked on land,
that's when shit got out of hand,
Life became Complex like a god damn magazine,
Producing the biggest beings we've ever seen,
Some were fish, or lizards and one was my mum,
but some dyed out like the blonde hair on my bum,
Cause BAM! they were destroyed,
Big ass Asteroid,
I call it Nicki,
it smashed quickly
Left shit bloody like haemorrhoids,
The big guys, had no chance to survive,
So the small guys hid for their lives,
The smart animals,
Smaller birds and mammals,
Could now thrive,
Like Mike Tyson when he really trieth,
Then two steps later we got chimps fucking,
They made Man, who promptly started sucking,
each other off and called each other Homo,
erectus, so you expect us to not indulge in man-on-man porno?
For 200 000 years we perfected our species,
Then it all went to shit, like we traveled to Feces,
We outwitted lions and sharks and fucking elephants,
We were outfitted with the best defence that was evidenced,
Our big brains,
But it's all the same,
We're dumb as fuck and it's evident,
BECAUSE YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKERS ELECTED DONALD TRUMP PRESIDENT. | The creatures looked down from the balcony, staring through the stage lights shining against his platinum blond "hair".
*Hair*.
It was a funny word and a funny thing they had all thought when they had first examined the human, rubbing their own bald heads and laughing.
Since then, certain circles of the creatures began to don little tufts of yellow "hair" atop their green scalps.
The man shuffled his feet, moving from side to side and waiting for the music to begin. He cleared his throat, and pulled on the collar of his shirt, which was already drenched in sweat.
Cloze.
Calose.
*Clothes*.
That was it. Clothes were just as odd as hair, but they seemed to serve a purpose. Even then, in the grand auditorium, many groups of the creatures were dressed from both heads to toe and whispering about what the others were wearing.
The prompt came across the screen, and the earthling read from left to right (the only developed creature in the universe that did as such). Puzzled, his eyes squinted, and his head cocked towards his shoulder as he scanned over the prompt again.
**Explain the history of your planet in 5 minuets or less**.
Then, the music began. And, that creature--with his bright blond "hair" and his form fitting "clothes"--danced across the stage in triple time. In the end, the creatures were crying, and their sobs were only buried by the cacophony of their applause. After traveling throughout one galaxy and then another, spreading their love for dance on every planet, the man from earth had performed the most beautiful minuet they had even seen.
From that day on, they looked back fondly in that corner of the universe. Though they had traveled far and years had passed, each of the creatures stared toward the sky at one time or another, and they knew that they would never act like they forgot about Dre. | 2016-11-30T10:48:23 | 2016-11-30T10:44:14 | 2,428 | 1,235 |
[WP] It worked! You travelled back in time to Renaissance Age. Jokingly, you turn on your Wi-Fi, only to find a password protected network named "iɔniV ɒᗡ" | Finally, after years and years of research and development, it seems to have worked. I think to myself of all the possible mysteries we could now witness first hand. What was life *really* like in medieval Europe? Was it *actually* Nero who burned Rome? This could solve many many things.
I quickly adorn the trousers, shirt, and doublet I had recreated by my local tailor. Peeking out from the alley in which my machine is hidden, I examine my surroundings. Venice, Italy, it seems. The people are all colorfully clothed, as expected. A surprising number of them are speaking in old English it seems. Strange, in Italy, but that just makes it easier for me.
I walk through the city for a while: shops, bakers, and the occasional smithy decorate the sides of the roads. There's a constant buzz of conversation and work as I pass through the market. I step aside into another alley.
Out of curiosity, after look around to make sure no one sees me, I look at my phone to see what time it thinks it is. 2:37, about 12 minutes after I left my time. Then I see the notification. "Wi-Fi network available". Stunned, I click the notification and there is one network available. Da Vinci, written backwards.
At this point, I realize I made a teleporter, not a time machine, and that I somehow managed to teleport myself into the middle of my local rennaisance fair. | There's no way. Everybody learned in school that this old guy was a genius, and that he came up with a lot of ideas way ahead of his time, but... Wi-Fi? In the early 16th century? What does he even use the Wi-Fi *for*? Does he connect to other Renaissance geniuses? Do they all have their own 1500s-style web servers, as well? Does David actually have a transmitter somewhere inside of him?
But... What's the password, though? If you've found Leonardo frickin' Da Vinci's Wi-Fi network, you *have* to try to crack into it, right? What are some options? MonaLisa...? Nope, that's not it. BorgiaRocks? Hmm, neither is that...
...wait a minute. There's no way, right? There's absolutely no way. He's *Leonardo frickin' Da Vinci*. There's no way he would have...! He's too smart for that! It's not...
"Password". Access granted. | 2018-03-02T04:17:12 | 2018-03-02T02:35:00 | 6,437 | 1,133 |
[WP] It was only after they invaded that the aliens realized, to their horror, that humans had superior technology in all things, except inter-planetary spaceflight. | Ich'tuk wept.
The bodies of his clan covered the plains before him like a bloody carpet. The third hand of his clan priest descended on his shoulder and clasped him tightly. "You could not have known," said Ahn'rek. "None of us knew. An entire race that fights with no concept of honor, but only to win."
"They don't even have proper weapons," sobbed Ich'tuk. "No swords, or spears...just these...these *things* that spray death at a cowardly distance. My clan is no more! What have I done to us by coming here?"
Ahn'rek spoke. "Do not fault yourself. In all our recorded centuries of conquest, we have never encountered a foe that refuses to fight an honorable battle like this one. But there is a solution."
Ich'tuk looked up, a glimmer of hope in his seven eyes. "What? What is it? How can we possibly salvage anything out of *this*," he exclaimed as he waved his topmost pair of arms expansively over the slaughter before them.
Ahn'rek spoke softly, but with authority. "We can ensure no one encounters these savages again. We still have our ship. Our ship with a drive that has propelled us across countless stars and thousands of conquests. A drive nearly the size of this continent we stand on. We must return to the ship and engage the drive, Ich'tuk."
"And then? You would have us flee these cowardly monsters?"
"No, Ich'tuk. The drive? Point it at the planet." | Dr. S.F. Mercola
Peking University, Department of Neurobiology
2259, March, 15
Human greed and shortsightedness—an intergalactic evolutionary trait?
Those in the scientific community have lamented the inability of humans to deal with basic market externalities and tragedy of the commons in the recent century. However, the problem is old as woman itself. Locke made the concept most famous nearly half a century past. Many millennia old religious texts too quarrel with the hedonistic manners of man. In combatting planetary issues, particularly the rampant effects of 20th and 21st century pollution, these pitfalls are evident. For true species survival and extraplanatary proliferation however these traits seem necessary. We provide evidence, based on data from the Great Invasion and newly acquired galactic species data obtained from the Intergalactic Alliance for Growth, that this shortsightedness is a necessary trait for intergalactic survival. We propose a theory to describe the phenomena and have dubbed it the Wells Effect. | 2014-10-17T09:09:55 | 2014-10-17T08:36:32 | 324 | 19 |
[WP] In a world where pregnancies sometimes last a few extra months resulting in a child with superpowers, your wife has been pregnant for 15 years | “Okay okay okay. Stay calm. It’s okay. We’re all calm,” I said. Fifteen years was a long time to wait for a baby to pop out of the womb. I had spent the whole time eating nachos and drinking beer, but I’m sure it wasn’t a pleasant experience for my wife. But now her water broke and weird lady things have started to happen. Finally. Weird lady things that I don’t understand and I don’t really want to understand.
Fifteen years. It should be one powerful baby. Maybe a god? Is it going to be like Jesus 2.0? Maybe it’ll be famous and make me rich. I’d never need to work another day in my life.
I sat in the back of an ambulance with my wife. I ate too many beans earlier and was farting the place up, which was apparently not helping her stay calm.
She kept yelling, “I’m going to rip your ***** face off you *********************** ********** *******.”
Not the kindest words thrown in my direction.
What could it be? Maybe he’ll fly? Maybe she’ll be able to talk to fish? We never checked the gender. Mostly because we never thought it would take fifteen years to find out.
Finally, we arrived at the hospital and they rushed her off.
“Pull that baby right out of her,” I shouted.
“That’s not really how birth works,” said a nurse nearby.
“How would you know?”
“I’m a nurse?”
I mocked her until she left me alone.
After fifteen years, you would assume the birth would be rather quick.
Nope.
Ten hours later a doctor came into the lobby and waved me over.
“The birth was successful. You have a happy baby boy.”
“And?”
“He is definitely powered.”
I threw my arms into the air triumphantly. “So, what are the powers?”
“He came out of the womb glowing.”
“Okay,” I nodded, urging him to continue.
“I think that’s it. We’ll need to do some more tests, but he appears to just be a big flashlight.”
“This is a joke. Right? Right?”
“He’ll light up your world.”
“I hate you.”
| Of course we could rely on Yorkshire for some peace and quiet.
When one of the quakers found out who we were all that changed was that she simply started offering us old remedies for Alex's god-baby pains. And weed too. Rural Yorkshire folk had that strange charm to it.
As soon as the baby was older than 12 months we got the mild interest of Toronto press's attention and a local priest, they all loved a baby with powers. By 18 it was worldwide and we had all the wrong attention. News outlets were fierce and repetitive every few months but the others were a lot worse. Some trying to make us leave for god knows where with them to be some king's subject, government or corporate automatons with goofy smiles and dead eyes wanting us to live in research compounds and the nutters who tried to take us to their holy places for the sake of jesus, krishna, and a few hundred other gods. Even the scientologists with their cameras were making appearances back in Toronto for us. It dominated our lives for years.
Until an unassuming old Quaker came to our attention. He didn't say much at first but instead showed us video of his home in North Yorkshire called cottingleigh. A majority quaker village with a huge majority of powered people. It was established in the 40s as a British secret service colony and training area, for people with extraordinary powers. When the war ended the British government didn't stop their efforts, they continued nurturing the small hilly area, keeping a top of the range "specialist" school a hospital for monitoring and nurturing the populace and an intelligence base for keeping the town secret and safe. All our preferences about city life hadn't mattered for years. It was the perfect place. | 2017-07-08T02:06:06 | 2017-07-08T01:38:23 | 92 | 12 |
[WP] You possess the ability to quick save in real life. When someone upsets you? Quicksave and beat them up. Wonder what would happen if you kiss that girl? Quicksave and find out. Then one day you attempt to come back from a failed attempt at something to find your previous save corrupted. | "So, doctor, what kind of symptoms are we seeing from your patient?"
Doctor Allen adjusted her glasses, looking through the pattern of reinforcing wire in the windows that separated her and the man in the grey suit from the dimly-lit observation room. A figure inside struggled against restraints, his voice muffled by the intervening glass.
"He certainly hasn't calmed down much, even with the medication. We've got no medical files on him, can you tell me about his background?"
The Assistant District Attorney leafed through a file..."Very puzzling. Mr. McCardy here, age thirty-five, arrested by the police after an incident at a bank. Apparently he tried to rob it and injured a security guard, and suffered some sort of mental breakdown while being arrested."
The ADA closed the file and peered into the room. "It looks like he's had quite the career. No arrests before yesterday, but he seems to have been traveling the world, getting involved with all kinds of shady business. Random sorts of things, smuggling, illegal gambling rings, street racing, a surprise he hasn't been caught before now...I suppose his luck just ran out."
The ADA paused for a moment, lost in thought. "Doctor, any idea why he keeps shouting for 'Tech Support'? | As I bled out on the floor, I smiled. Now I knew exactly where all my most recent of set of enemies where in the building. It might take a few more tries before they were all gone, but time was literally on my side.
As the darkness rushed in, I felt the usual twist, before finding myself kneeling on the floor behind the metal containers on the third floor. But instead of the rush I usually got, I only heard the click of a gun.
"Hey! How'd you get here?"
Bang.
Blackness swirled in.
Light.
"Hey! How'd you get here?"
Bang.
Blackness swirled in.
Light.
"Hey!" | 2017-04-19T06:03:25 | 2017-04-19T05:06:21 | 715 | 206 |
[WP] After the death of a beloved American hero, all flags are flown at half-staff. Later that night, it's discovered that, somehow, the American flag on the moon has been lowered as well. | Its been about 60 years now since Luna broke away from America. What were we supposed to do, send an armed ship up to change their minds? They weren’t worth the fuel it would’ve taken. No, they left peacefully and we let them. Non-contact was the name of their game, but no one seemed to care. We had bigger fish to fry.
A Cold War with the Chinese. Seems funny to think about now, but you have to remember that it was a different political climate back then. Less trust. Less empathy.
No, the space race was before that. This was a race for energy. Solar farms, turbines, closed cell thorium, you name it someone made it. We made a mistake in forgetting Luna. Near the end of the war, rumors circulated that the Chinese made an alliance with Luna and as a result they had a satellite that we’d never be able to blast out of the sky hanging right above our heads. It was never true, but great God we’re we terrified. My buddy, a G.I. in Japan, said the lads were about ready to shoot any jet with a red tail out of the sky no matter where it came from.
We lived in terror of what could come from the moon for five long years. In those five years, both us and the Chinese closed our last coal-burning plants, opened new nuclear sites, and had our hands a millimeter from the launch buttons, and after five years, we all threw in the towel.
Apparently there were secret peace talks and now instead of mutual tungsten bombardment there was going to be a new era of peace, with our heads up to the stars once more.
Officially, the peace project was called the US-China Joint Dyson Project, but everyone just called it Project Wukong, what with it being about the Sun and all that. The first stages of the Sphere were planned to be sent up by the end of the year and after the second, we had already started pulling power. Power like no one could’ve imagined. It seemed like there’s never be a scarcity war again. Unfortunately, it couldn’t be all good news.
Mere days after the first energy shipment from Wukong, news traveled across the globe that Buzz Aldrin, last living member of Apollo 11 had died. He had a good run, 153 is no number to shake a stick at, but it crushed the world from New York to Beijing, Stockholm to Sydney. We, as a planet, collectively remembered where we came from, how far we’d come, and how close to global annihilation we came. I remember that day, when the news sites televised the raising of flags. Not just ol’ Star Spangled, but the Union Jack, the Aussie Cross, the Shield and Spaceship of Kenya, even the Chinese Field of Stars were raised to half mast that day. Across the world, and across the solar system too.
That day, we received the last transmission Earth would ever get from her Moon, a final solidarity: a grainy picture of a sea of some ten-thousand figures in spacesuits, simultaneously saluting a single, sunbleached flag at half-mast. You could still make out the Stars and Stripes and beside that, two sets of footprints, undisturbed through the ages.
(Thanks for reading! This is my first post here and I read the prompt and just immediately knew what I had to write.) | Asiyah quietly watched the casket lowered into the earth. The priest speaking the last rites and the beautiful words eulogizing her husband of two decades barely registering as she reminisce on the past
They been through a lot together, more than even those reciting his deeds of heroism would ever know. A young boy looked up to her, his expression curious as he speaks, his voice soft.
"Your Highness, will you be returning?" He asked, his tone respectful.
Asiyah nodded just the slightest, her expression unreadable beneath the dark veil she sported for the occasion. The rifles rang out in salute for the passing of this man she loved.
​
She was reminded of the day they had met, when her people stole this man away to learn more about this fledgling civilization on this remote blue world. She was in charge of interrogating him, to make him spill his secrets. Instead, she was won over by his ideals of honour, of justice and of freedom. Things foreign to her world, dominated by a ruthless autocrat that sough dominion over the universe.
The purity of those thoughts infected her and through guile, cunning and a massive dose of sheer luck, they returned here to start a new life, with a select group of retainers.
She had learnt much, over the years about what ideals she wanted to bring back. She witnessed the turmoil this world has faced, the petty schemes of humanity's greediest continue to tear through this world. In a sense, it was almost beneficial in the grand scheme of things; her reports of human civilization continuously putting itself at the edge of self-destruction had placed them pretty much on the bottom of the list of priorities.
Taking a planet without expending any effort was always better, rather then giving a potential threat a reason to unite.
At the same time, she had witnessed the little things, the values espoused by her deceased beloved clear for her to see. Passion and Kindness, Honour, Justice, Freedom simple higher ideals that humans have taken for granted... These things made her heart feel liberated.
It was time to go. There was much that needed change in the Empire, and she had learnt all she could here. This world will probably never know the true extent of what this man had done. Its likely he too, had very little idea of the impact that will soon follow.
She smiled as the gunnery salute ended. She turned away, briefly. She paused, looking at a nearby flag now fluttering at half-mast, she pursed her lips and had an idea. She smiled again, and then whispers an instruction to the young boy, who frowned, but did not argue.
The next day, the World stared awestruck at the image of a flag lowered to half-mast where no man had reached, distracted from a bright shooting light escaping the solar system.
​
| 2019-02-27T20:50:15 | 2019-02-27T20:33:17 | 38 | 15 |
[WP] You dream every night about the girl of your dreams. You and her connect on every level and you get excited about falling asleep. Then, one day, you and your SO run into her on the street and she instantly recognizes you too... | I'd met her dozens of times, in my dreams. The pale girl with the red hair. We'd played tennis, gone hiking, participated in a drag race, slayed a couple dragons, and so on. She was a blast. Fit, courageous, and knew how to handle a weapon. Not to mention smart. That plan she came up with to beat that last dragon... How the hell did she figure out he was being controlled by the inventor of a nearby town?
Electric was the only word to describe our contact. Whenever I was with her there was so much energy. We'd keep firing up eachother until nothing could stop us. She was everything I'd ever want in a girl and more. Too bad she was just a figment of my imagination. A literal dream girl. She didn't even have a name.
I was happy with Jennifer. A very smart girl, knew what she wanted. And she was real, too. I'd been dating her for almost two years now, and it was a great relationship by all standards. Sure, she wasn't perfect and we didn't always see eye to eye, but we communicated really well and that resolved most problems. Most. Like I said, she knew what she wanted and she wanted me. She wanted me all to herself.
Naturally, I hadn't told her about my dream girl. I'd explained away my excitement about going to bed as part of my new hobby, lifting weights. It wasn't really *lying* to her, because I *did* try to get enough sleep to recover from my workouts. The dream girl was just a little extra motivation.
Jennifer had decided she wanted to go out for lunch today, and Jennifer being Jennifer, we went despite my protestations about my new biphasic sleep schedule and how it was too rainy to go anywhere. It was part of why I loved her; she was always forcing me to get out of the house and try new things. She wanted to check out a new place near Kingston Avenue. Irish. An Irish *lunch room*. It wasn't even a pub!
I had to admit it was a neat get up, though. The dark wooden interior and the fireplace gave it a homely feel while the white tablecloths and wine glasses classed it up a bit. Jennifer chose a spot in the back. She liked to people watch, so I sat across from her with my back to the rest of the establishment.
We were talking about the relative merits of a fixed base income when a waitress approached our table.
"Hi, can I get you something to drink?" My heart stopped for a beat, before I told myself to stop being so stupid. The pale girl with the red hair didn't exist in real life. Jennifer ordered a mocha cappuccino, and I turned around to ask for a double espresso. I got to "I'd like-" before the world came to an abrupt halt. My mouth shut, opened again, and shut closed again.
All I could see was her blue eyes, staring right back at me. It was her. I would've told myself I was making shit up, but I couldn't think. I would've finished my order, but I couldn't talk. I would've broken eye contact, but I couldn't move. I would've done any of a million things, but I couldn't. I was spellbound.
"Aren't you going to order?" Jennifer's voice broke the spell, and I found myself stammering "eh, an, eh espresso, double espresso, please." The girl's response was similarly disheveled, but I couldn't process it. She knew, and she was just as struck as I was.
"What *was* that?" Jennifer hissed after the waitress left. I tried to act normal. "What was what?" "The waitress. What was that?" "I- I don't know." She seized upon the small hesitation like a shark smelling blood. "Don't try to bullshit me. You know her, and you stared at her like- like- like I don't know. Who the fuck is she? I swear to god, if this is some stupid rando you once-" She stopped herself as the pale girl with the red hair approached with our drinks and the menu. She didn't make eye contact, which was probably a good thing because Jennifer would've completely flipped her shit. I tried to keep my gaze averted and muttered a thank you before she left again.
I had a couple seconds to think before Jennifer would launch another verbal assault. Being honest was our usual strategy when we had a conflict, and it had always worked very well. However, this wasn't one of our usual arguments and I feared she'd get even more upset if I told her the truth. My thoughts were interrupted by a hissed "...well?"
I decided I couldn't lie. I was never a very good liar in the first place, and if I had to hurt Jennifer I would only draw it out longer by lying to her. She didn't deserve that. As hateful as she seemed now, that wasn't her. If I could get her to accept what I'd dreamt, hopefully she would be open to talk about it like a rational human being.
"Look, this is going to sound insane, but I think she's a recurring character in my dreams. I didn't think she existed. That was why I was so struck. I mean, how often do you see someone you've only ever seen in your dreams?"
"Really? You expect me to believe that? This just so *happens* to be the literal girl of your dreams."
I grabbed her hand. "Hey. I'm telling the truth, however weird it seems. My mind's probably just making stuff up, okay? I'm with you and I love you, don't forget that."
At my touch she softened a little. She always did. "I just- you seemed so- so *entranced* by her. It set off all kinds of alarm bells."
I figured that, given the situation, it was probably best to get out of here. "Hey, if you wanna go, we can go." She nodded. Perfect, that would give me some time to think stuff through.
The trip home was spent in silence. I hadn't seen the waitress after she brought us our coffee, but I had to do *something*. I couldn't very well leave it at this one chance encounter and go dragon hunting with her the next night. However, I didn't want to hurt Jennifer either. She was my girlfriend, and I'd long since accepted her jealous side. It was something I'd have to work with. And I sure as shit didn't want to leave her.
But what if? What if the pale girl *was* the girl of my dreams, figuratively? What if I was meant to marry her and be with her forever? Wouldn't it be better to cut things with Jennifer if me and the pale girl were meant to be? But how could I know for sure? I sighed.
Jennifer put her arm around me and rested her head on my shoulder.
I'd have to sleep on it.
________
Criticism welcome and stuff.
EDIT: Couple words, sentences. | It started in the first grade. I’d have a dream that seemed to fast-forward through my life, some parts blurred or non-specified, some parts as clear as anything I’d ever experience in the real world. The scenes that flashed through were always the same, walking through an arch way hearing the end of a story, walking into my school chapel for the first time, laughing with a faceless significant other while washing dishes and turning the faucet to splash them with water. Randomly one of those moments would happen in reality and I’d be taken aback. Having already lived it a hundred times over, but convincing myself it was jut a coincidence. But by far the most prominent character was Jessica. So beautiful and sweet, unbelievably clever, brown curly hair and she had green eyes that matched mine, she was absolutely perfect in every way. But all mothers think that. Even when their children are just from a dream.
I’d dream about her at least once a week, just flashes, instances. My hand on my belly feeling a kick, cradling her till she slept and smelling her head, playing peek-a-boo with a ducky blanket and hearing the most joyous giggle, her hiding behind me, hugging my legs afraid to walk in to her first day of kindergarten, and then after, her running to me, a huge smile on her face, showing me what she’d drawn in class. I saw her grow up, saw her leave for her first dance, held her crying over a boy and suppressed the overwhelming drive to murder him for hurting her, felt the world crush the first time she slammed her door in my face as a teenager, and burst with pride when I saw her speak to her high school class as valedictorian.
I’d always known she wasn’t real, but I felt closer to her than I ever had anyone else in my real life. When I woke up I’d always cry for hours, crushed that she didn’t exist. Every time I had those dreams I got flashes of a wonderful life with her in it, and when I awoke each time it was as if she had died. But despite how horrible waking was I’d pray for those dreams every night so I could see her again. There were other constants in the dreams, her father who I would marry for a short time, and then later a faceless woman who I would marry and spend the rest of my life with, though nothing else about her was ever clear. But they were never the focus, while much of the dream did not include Jessica she was the only one I’d think of when I woke, the only one I’d mourn.
The dream was always the same, except for once, except for the last time I had it. My senior year of high school was the 2008 election, the year of Obama becoming president, something I got to celebrate too briefly before it also became the year Prop 8 passed in California. The year my right to marry who ever I chose got taken away. I spent the night crying and consoling various friends, schoolmates and ex-lovers. Then when I went to sleep I started to have the same dream I’d had hundreds of times before. But then it flashed to my second wedding. I stood waiting at the alter as I always had, wearing a black tuxedo jacket over a dress, my bride was walking down the aisle wearing a white suit, with Jessica leading the way, in her white and pink flower girl dress, skipping and so excited, throwing petals as she went. Jessica ran up to me and jumped in my arms, as she always had before, and kissed me on the cheek. Then when I turned to view my bride’s final steps it changed. My bride started to fade away into nothing, white cloth collapsing to the floor, and before I knew what had happened a dark shadow came down and pulled Jessica away from me and into the sky. I started to run off the alter after her but as I stepped off the alter I fell through the ground. And I woke up. Jessica stolen from me. And I never dreamt of her again.
It’s strange to miss some one who never existed. To feel like your soul has been ripped open over someone you’ve never truly held. But she meant more to me than anything. I am still unsure what part losing those dreams played, the following months were a chaotic and catastrophic time. But within a few months I’d fallen into a depression and was over come with migraines. I had period that I couldn’t leave bed for days. I almost didn’t graduate. And my sanity slowly began to pull away. By the end of my senior year though, things had started to improve, the migraines were daily but not constant, and the depression too was intermittent. I started to see an ex of mine again who helped me through times where I was not entirely functional and one day we were out getting coffee before meeting up with my family. I was still in a post migraine daze. Not entirely able to make out what was happening around me, not sure my experience was real. I stood off to the side as my girlfriend ordered the drinks when suddenly I felt arms wrapped around my leg. I looked down and saw her big green eyes smiling up at me. She was exactly the same as the last instance I had seen her. I was in shock, so sure that it was just a hallucination. Wanting to talk but having no words. Then someone yelled over at us, “Jessica get over here! What have I said about strangers.” Then Jessica looked over in surprise and then back up at me, “But I DO know her!”. Before I could say anything, before I could react, Jessica’s real mother had grabbed her hand and lead her out the door, Jessica turned staring at me the whole time, looking bewildered. As if surprised I hadn’t spoken up for her. As if surprised I’d let her leave and not say a word. But maybe I imagined it, maybe I imagined all of it. Then my girlfriend walked up and said “What was that about? Some kid think you were her mom or something?”. Part of me wanted to turn to her and ask her everything she saw, and confirm that Jessica had been real. That she was as I had seen her. But I still could barely move. I stayed staring out the door where she had left with tears streaming down my face and just said. “Yea, something like that.”.
(FYI, this story is actually completely true. Very diluted. But true at least in how I had experienced it. I never saw her in real life again, and I never had that dream again. Not quite the end of my Jessica story but all I’m willing to post here. PM me if you’re curious how in a strange way I did get to sort of see her again.)
| 2015-07-26T05:44:57 | 2015-07-26T05:16:20 | 38 | 13 |
[WP] People do not get weaker and more frail as they age - they get stronger and stronger. "Dying of old age" is when groups of young people band together to kill off their elders before they become too strong to defeat. | From his hidden roost in the bushes, Tin Tang suppressed the urge to vomit as the stench of the Elder's meal forced it's way into his nostrils. The rest of his hunting squad, not a one of them older than sixteen, remained safely behind the cover of trees and rocks. Waiting. Watching.
The Elder had been a man, once. As human as any of them, with normal skin and normal hair and a normal smile. According to legend, his name had been Sun Sin, and he had been a baker in his youth.
Gone was the bronzed skin tanned by the heat of years working over an oven. Now rocky plates covered Sun Sin's body, flaking scaley skin stretched tautly between them creaking as he moved. Gone was the mane of ravishing black hair that had once caught the eye of every girl in the village. Now a knotted furl of dirty blood-soaked fur ran down his back, along the length of his tail all the way to it's furiously whipping end. Gone was the welcoming smile that had once beckoned the village children in for a free sweet. Now rows of fangs ran haphazardly along his jaw, covered in blood and dripping gore.
Sun Sin's colossal scare-crow form hunched over his latest kill. Long lean arms tore hungrily into the guts of a rival Elder who had not won their battle. Fistfuls of dripping foul entrails were shoved into Sun Sin's eternally hungry maw. His eyes darted around as he ate, each eye moving independently, constantly scanning the surroundings. The heart of Sun Sin's prey was pierced upon one of his horns, a crown for the victor of their battle. The heart still beat. The fallen Elder thrashed in it's death throes as Sun Sin ate of it's warm steaming innards.
Tin Tang's hand went unconsciously to a spot on his arm. A small place that felt harder than the rest of his body, a little knot of mass under his skin. Tin Tang had always been bigger than the other kids. He was the first to grow tall, the first to grow hair on his lip. And in touching the spot on his arm, he knew he would be the first of his village to grow the armor of an Elder.
Tin Tang thrust his hand forward silently, and the hunting squad swarmed from the treeline en masse, taking aim for Sun Sin before he could eat too much of the fallen Elder. The both of them would make good provisions for the winter. | "After 40 years of service, losing and regrowing limbs 7 times, and capturing 4 high class oldies, its finally time to kill me." Said a man who looked to be in his early 60's.
"Sad to say, but yes, your time has come, so we will make this your last mission, please die, and make this easy on us". Said a female voice.
"You know I always wondered why those old guys were so evil. Turns out most of them worked here, and they probably has the same situation come up. Most of them agreed, but some left, only to be killed later by us. It makes sense too, no one wants to die, atleast I know I don't, so sadly I won't be able to complete this mission."
"That truly is sad, but you have no choice, even if you leave, you'll only be chased dowluke the rest. Is that the life you want to live."
"At least I get to live, but don't worry I won't cause problems, might go to Jupiter, I heard your starting a new colony there."
The room stayed silent for a while after that, then footsteps could be heard down the hall.
"Well I don't feel like killing today, so I apologize about the wall." He then proceeds to jump and punch the ceiling of the room, causing a large hole to appear, letting the sunlight shine through.
Armed guards bust into the room right after this happens for the leader to say one word, "Fire!", filling the room with noise, and bright lights.
When the lasers hit the man thought, they bounced off into different directions, until he jumped out of the room fast enough for the air to push all of the guards down.
"Ciao", said the man before flying into the sky at an astonishing pace.
"F***, another one!", yelled the female voice before saying, "Back to your posts, and tell this to no one."
After sating this the guards left the room in a hurry, only the sound of footsteps could be heard. | 2020-01-21T08:31:23 | 2020-01-21T07:32:18 | 64 | 40 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | The humans sat down for diplomatic relations, as they always had and always will. The envoy for the Coalition of Civilizations sat down at the far end of the long table. The envoy came with seven bodyguards and seven times seven support staff. The humans brought a puppy.
Envoy G'rig burbled out nonsense in its native Fythian concerning the unsuitability of the human's mother for reproduction. Head ambassador Steve of the Terran Federation simply nodded and responded that the universal translators funcitoned quite well. G'rig was mortified, but Steve only thanked him for testing the translators so well.
"What sort of bloodthirsty monsters are you," demanded G'rig, slamming what passed in his culture for a fist on the table, "to produce such horrific weapons?"
"Are you familiar with Terran culture and history?" asked Steve nonchalantly. G'rig snarled. "Obviously not."
"There was an author named Robert E. Howard. He wrote fiction about barbarians, notably about one named Conan. The particular stories don't matter for this conversation, but a quote of his comes to mind. 'Civilized men are more discourteous than savages because they know they can be impolite without having their skulls split, as a general thing.' When you've developed weapons such as these, you become very polite or very dead." | Drifting endlessly and peacefully through this void, I gazed upon the great blue sphere. Its skies swirling with white ink. The low rumbling of our ship had my brethren in a deep sleep.
A great white plain, frozen and still, is where we made our temporary home. A small elderly woman made her way out of that dark and sullen forest, inviting us to follow her.
The six of us were crammed into the tight dwelling in which she lived. The warmth of the stove shielded us from that blistering cold winter wind. This meal was just enough to keep us all from starving, that caring old woman...
News of our presence was spreading. A large military force was to be expected at any moment, but this frozen plain was empty. As I wait on the outskirts of our encampment, waiting, a sun had risen out of the ground.
These humans were peaceful due to their fear not of us, but because of their own power. | 2020-02-07T13:11:42 | 2020-02-07T12:50:43 | 72 | 41 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | As his back bounced off the unforgiving steel of his own locker Tomas contemplated what imagined slight he caused this time. It was always the same. Same oblivious parents. Same uncaring teachers. Same Jacob Meech.
The circle sigil on the back of his right hand a mocking symbol of his overall life so far.
He considered staying down. Sometimes Jacob lost interest if he did. Staring at the back of his hand a spark of anger ignited inside him, quickly become an inferno of acidic rage. Rising to his feet he stared down his bully with so much malice; so much raw hatred that it made the invulnerable quarterback pause.
"Enough." Tomas spat raising his right hand at the other boy and his sigil finally began glowing.
Snapping his fingers the glow brightens them dims, the sigil shifting to the number twenty-four.
"Twenty-four hours." He sneered his voice rising to address the other kids who had gathered to watch him get bullied.
"I have locked away your powers for twenty-four hours. After the allotted time they will return to you." Tomas picked up his bag and started to walk out of the ring of students, pausing next to Jacob, a stunned look still on his bullies face.
"You wanted to see my power so bad? Now you have. I like to call it a black hole. But it's really more like a prison. For sigils that is. Touch me again and it'll be twenty-four years"
The first bell rang as Tomas walked away. | *Dark...... It went dark..... but how? It's still day,* they thought, feeling the air around the cool.
The air continued to grow colder and colder, nothing but inky blackness surrounding them. Then they saw you. You in the center, eyes dark and your face twisted into a vicious scowl and arms stretching to what was the ground.
They let out a visible breath, a sign that the air became freezing. You watched them as they struggle to breathe, watching them writhe. But you didnt care for their safety nor yours. You mind has gone numb and your sense rendered inactive. The only think running through your mind was void.
*VOID* your mind kept repeating, your sigil glowing brighter and brighter.
You could feel the void growing and consuming more and more, everything being enveloped in the black abyss. You see the bullies stopped moving. They float there, with horrified expressions staring at you.
You snap out of it and everything returns to normal. You apologize for everything and run home. This is why you dont use your sigil. | 2020-02-26T07:36:26 | 2020-02-26T06:52:34 | 72 | 42 |
[WP] After several thousand years, the Greek gods awaken in the in the mid 1940’s. When the gods meet up to discuss what they had learned of the modern world, Ares walks into the room with a hollow and horrified look in his eyes, the day is August 6th, 1945.(Hiroshima) | This is my first time writing on here, so please bear with me and please share any criticism you have. Also, I suck at Reddit formatting so please bear with me.
​
Ares, chin held low, walked under the arch way for the first time in what was nearly 3,000 years. The sun a piercing light in the sky as it always was on Olympus, the archway was cloud made structure, as was the way of the Gods. Ares, with his crimson red cloak around his neck, red stained sword at his side, had his head hung low. That alone told the other Gods that something was wrong.
​
*I'm going to have to get used to this armor again* Ares told himself in his head. He had not dawned his golden Greek Armor in almost 2 millennia.
​
Zeus, All Father and head of the Greek Gods, in all his wisdom and glory, was throwing a party, completely oblivious to what was going on in the Mortal Plane. *Well, my father never did pay them much attention unless he was bedding them or killing them*.
It was Hera, Ares' mother, Queen of the Gods and Goddess of Marriage and Birth among other things, was the first to address him. Shorter than most of the Goddess', she wore her flowing white peplos that always seemed to compliment her flowing light hair, and perfect complexion. She truly was among the most beautiful of the Gods.
​
"Ares! My son! Oh how I have missed you. It has to have been nearly a thousand years! Come, feast with us and rejoice, as we have awoken! Whatever has you down can wait, for now."
​
*So my mother is as oblivious as always,* Ares thought.
​
Ares fell to his knees, bowing before her. "My queen and mother, it is indeed good to see you. But you are mistaken. It has been nearly 3,000 years on the Mortal Plane since the Pact begun."
​
Ares, turned to address the other Gods and Goddess'. This was something he had only done once before, the day before they began their slumber.
​
"Hear me now, Gods and Goddess' alike, for I would like to bring you up to date on what the Mortal Plane has become. Mankind now wields the very power of the Gods. Today, they showed the cosmos that they are willing to use destruction in a way that we never could; An entire city, with more people than died in every war we ever fought, were just killed in an instant. They wage war the likes of which you have never seen. They use machines to fly, to kill, and to create that which we never imagined. They see in the dark without the aid of candles, they roll across the land at speeds unknown to even some Gods. The time of mankind has come, and the time of the Gods is over."
​
​
Ares looked around, hollowed eyes. Eyes that over the past 3 millennia had obviously known war, love, loss, and so much more. Standing taller and fuller than the Gods who surrounded him, Ares waited, giving them time to drink in the information that he said.
​
Zeus had heard enough. He bellowed, and began laughing. Not a fake laugh either, the kind that over the centuries the he had become used to from the humans. A true laugh, radiating from the stomach and causing tears. When he began, the others joined in too, like the sheep they were.
​
"Boy, you had me good. That truly is a joke to span the centuries. Thoth, please be sure to keep a record of this for the humans to tell stories of. Like the Humans could ever truly posses the power we hold. BAH! Now come boy, tell us of how the world has floundered and failed since our slumber."
​
Ares glanced toward the spinning globe that Zeus had sitting in front of him. A gift from the Oracles themselves, the Eye of the Gods allowed the Greek Gods to peer into the Mortal Plane and see what was happening at that moment.
​
Ares strolled in front of Zeus himself, and swiped his hand in an experienced motion across the Eye. It drifted to an island unfamiliar to those around him, the island of Japan. As he was about to zoom into the small but persistent nation, he saw another flash of light. Narrowing the Eye of the Gods onto another town. Nagasaki.
​
"Watch now, and see what this world has become. " | “Ares my son, whatever is the matter with you?” Zeus asked boisterously as he downed another flagon of mead.
Ares crosses the hall and slouched into his chair at the table and leaned forward with his head in his hands. His brothers, sisters, half-brothers, half-sisters, cousins, nephews, nieces, sons, daughters and parents all looked from him to one another in bewilderment. They expected Ares the god of war to be happy. They’d awoken to a new world where wars were grander than ever before. Armies of millions engaged around the world for years at a time with new and incomprehensible weapons of death and destruction. All the gods had found joy in their new and exciting world but had all assumed that Ares would be the most overjoyed, but what sat before them was quite the opposite.
It was Artemis goddess of the hunt who approached him, in her outstretched arms she carried a golden rifle already imbued with her godly touch.
“See this Ares, this is what they call a Mauser” she smiled enthusiastically.
When her half-brother didn’t look up at her or acknowledge in any way that he’d even heard her, she continued.
“Man has made this so as to throw pieces of metal across huge lengths of fields to hunt or to kill each other. This truly is a gift to my hunt and I thanked Prometheus for his wisdom in giving man fire, for it has now been shown to bear the greatest of fruit I could imagine. Even father has overturned his punishment and Prometheus travels to met us as we speak.”
At this Ares looked up panicked. First at the rifle in Artemis’ hands and then to Zeus.
“No!” He shouted desperately “The fire given to the humans was a mistake, a terrible mistake. Father you must listen! The humans have been given gifts by another and together with the fire it is more terrible than you can imagine.”
Zeus laughed heartedly at his son and looked puzzled.
“Surely you can’t be serious Ares. The humans have exceeded all our expectations and have become more glorious than I ever thought they could.”
“No father they have the power to wipe out cities in the blink of an eye. Imagine an army of hundreds of thousands reduced to ash in a moment. Please father this cannot be so.”
Zeus looked bewildered. He hadn’t heard of such power being wielded by humans before. He’d been impressed by their ingenuity but to kill so many with one weapon couldn’t be so.
“When has this happened Ares?” He asked sceptically. But before he could get an answer the guard’s horns from outside signalled an arriving guest. Everyone in the hall turned to the entrance to see a small bejewelled blue man walk into the room carrying a head in one hand by his side. He strode into the centre of the hall, stopped, and threw the head tumbling across the marble floor. The gods gasped as they recognised the face of Prometheus as the head came to halt. Zeus stood immediately and stared daggers into the strangers eyes.
“What is the meaning of this?” He shouted in rage. The small blue man simply tilted his head and smiled at the all powerful Zeus, unperturbed by his anger.
“This is the one” cried Ares “he gave man the power of the gods.” Ares stood and backed away from the stranger in fear tripping over his family and chairs along his retreat.
“I demand to know who you are!” Zeus bellowed as lightening began to crackle around him, stirred up by his rage and readying himself to strike the uninvited guest down. “What makes you think you can challenge m-...”
Before Zeus could finish the stranger burst in a flash of light and in an instant became a giant multi-armed form of himself, glowing with an aura of power. The gods shielded their eyes from the light and some screamed in fear, even Zeus backed away and protected his eyes. Slowly one of the stranger’s many arms reached out and he pointed a finger at Zeus who in turn prepared a lightening bolt in his fist to hurl at the intruder, but before he could even bring the bolt to bare a light shot from the strangers finger and turned Zeus the King of Mount Olympus to ash. Everyone screamed and some fled from the room immediately while others stood fixed with fear.
“Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds!”
https://youtu.be/lb13ynu3Iac | 2019-12-04T14:18:41 | 2019-12-04T11:21:28 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] Humanity is the idiot savant of the galaxy. We're terrible at almost everything compared to every other race, but we surpass them in spades in one thing.
**DO NOT CHOOSE WARFARE**
It's a boring and overdone answer.
This is inspired by the book Year Zero, where humanity is laughably incompetent in most of our cultural endeavors, but there isn't a species alive no matter how old that is better than us at [X]. It's up to you what [X] is. Maybe we're the best cooks in the galaxy, maybe we're the best dancers, musicians, clowns, that's up to you!
**All I ask is that you do not pick warfare** | Tragen swatted at a Nik-Nik which buzzed quietly near his hearing duct. It flew away unphased before he returned his attention to the monitor. He tapped it a few times. "Hey Zorg, there seems to be something wrong with the playback element."
Zorg leaned back in the chair and gave Tragen a smug look. "There's nothing wrong with it, that's a real-time representation."
Tragen blinked and his gaze moved back towards the screen. He was standing next to Zorg, the leader of the Alien Discovery team, a special group which sought out and discovered new alien species.
He stared intently at the screen. It was showing a rather crude representation of a certain sector of space. Tragen glanced at the corner and noted the location, "Ah, they seem to originate from an arm of a fairly small spiral galaxy. One quite far away at that."
Tragen scratched at the bristles on his second arm and continued to examine the screen. "So if this is real-time," he began, "then that means they're moving at an incredibly fast pace."
Zorg chugged lightly in amusement, "Do you think I would call you down here for nothing Chief? They're not moving at just an incredible pace, they seem to..." He trailed off, "That is to say... They experience time at that pace." He turned and flipped a few switches on his console, and a few more lists of data appeared on the screen. "You see here," he said, pressing a wet digit onto the list, "the investigative probes have studied them for a few months, and this is the data they've brought back."
Tragen's eyes narrowed in confusion as he read the information, "If this simulation and data are correct, that means," He paused for a moment as he did a few quick calculations in his head, "one of their lifespans is equal to two weeks of our own time."
Zorg leaned back again and nodded, and watched as Tragen swatted at something near his hearing duct. "They're a space-faring species, and a few weeks of our time must be experienced as a life time for them." He turned a dial and rewound the footage. "From the time we started observing them, which was almost two months ago, they've experienced around four hundred years of development, and have colonized-," he turned the dial back to present time, "around five more star systems."
Tragen gaped in disbelief, "There's no way they're that fast. If they move that quickly, we must seem to be in slow motion to them." The bristles on his arm itched like crazy, they always seemed to itch when he was nervous.
Zorg shook his head, "No, we wouldn't look as if we were in slow motion, we would be completely motionless to them. Time is subjective, we all know that. We have just never seen it on this type of scale before."
"Is there anything we could do to combat them if they were aggressive?" Tragen asked.
"No way,” Zorg replied, “none of our conventional weapons would have any effect on them. Like I said, we would be standing completely still next to-"
“Gotcha!” Tragen exclaimed as he slapped two of his hands together and squished the little Nik-Nik between them. He shrugged towards Zorg as he wiped a hand on his shirt. "So what do we do then?” Tragen said, returning to the conversation.
"There isn't anything we can do. We wait and watch, hope they die out. If it does, it'll be as if we watched a whole history of a civilization play out in a few months or years. If not, we work on some kind of technology to combat them, but that isn't really my subject of expertise."
Zorg sighed and skimmed the list again, "Other than their speed, they're quite unimpressive. Very limited spacefaring technology, almost useless weapons, and they seem to die quite easily, but they reproduce so rapidly compared to us, they might as well be indestructible... If you destroyed one, another would replace it almost instantly."
Tragen scratched at his bristles again, this was way too much for him, this was a huge threat, and must be elevated to the Council at once. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention Sergeant Zorg, I’ll be delivering this news to the Council as soon as possible.” He bowed towards the Sergeant and turned to leave the room. As the door slid open and he strode out, he heard a faint buzzing circling around his head. | The massive Zenthrok war dreadnaught maintained their orbit between Jupiter and Europa. Hidden in the shadow behind the moon, it would be easy to observe this new species undetected. Small, poorly built space vessels had made it as far as Jupiter, all unmanned. The Zebthrok had dismantled these vessels expecting to find advanced technologies or innovations, some clue as to why the infantile fleshy larvae of this small planet had been put under the protection of the Andromeda Triumvirate. The Zenthrok had spent generations raiding into the Magellous Clouds seeking rare and valuable super dense elements. Maybe these creatures held a key that could turn the tide in favor of the Zenthrok.
The Marthrag of Alnir, second in command of uncivilized systems under the Zenthrok fitted the last pieces of fabricated exoskeleton onto his brittle fractual crystalline body. Once the armor was in place he waved his hand over a Zenthroklit panel and the porthole opened. A vessel from the soft creatures had crashed onto this asteroid. The Zenthrok dreadnaught had used gravity beams to throw the ship off of its path and into the asteroid. As the Marthrag landed lightly onto the surface, he spotted the crash and approached it. Sliding across the surface using magnetic field generators in the exoskeleton. There was an abundance of cobalt in this asteroid. He tore what remained of the door off of its hinges and reached into the opening. He could get little more than half his arm inside, but he felt it, the warmth from the beings heat. His hand found it and he lifted it out of the vessel. Once he had it out his exoskeleton began taking diagnostics. Temperature was almost twice the body temperature of the Zenthrok. The suit appeared to contain a gas blend the creature needed. It began to move and lifted something, pointing it at the Marthrag. Without hesitation he close his hand around it and it sort of popped in its suit. Some kind of gooey liquid spattered the facial shield of its helmet and it went limp.
Nothing. They could find no reason that the Andromeda Triumvirate would consider this species worth protection. Their flesh carried a horrific stench, they were filled with uncountable tiny organisms. Overall they were disgusting. It was a bit fascinating that their bodies could produce energy from matter instead of just collecting solar radiation as most species did. Still, it explained nothing. This infuriated the Marthrag, he had eaten several of the crew of his ship in fury.
"Marthrag, we may have found something. We dismantled the entire ship. They have a collection of raw primordium. Several units of it. It appears they haven't weaponized any if it."
"Primordium? Several units?" How could this be. The species could barely navigate their own solar system. They never could have gotten far enough out in space to find the Nebulae dwelling Archwurms. "Why weren't they using it? How could they have gotten primordium from the bellies of Archwurms?"
"We... er...think they produce it" the younger Zenthrok seemed hesitant.
"What do you mean they produce it?" If they were producing it and the Andromedans could get their hands on it, this could end the war. How many plagues had been unleashed by primordium in the hands of the Andromedans. Whole planets had been lost. " How could they possibly product it, even the Kelleri and the Andromedans have been unable to synthesize primordium. It's the only thing that's saved us all these eons."
"It.. it's their waste. It comes out of them."
The Marthrag knew he had no choice. The planet and this species had to be eradicated, even if he lost his entire crew and spiraled the Zenthrok further into war. He could not allow such a devastating weapon, one that had purge life from entire systems to be harvested by the Andromedans.
The dreadnaught moved out of Europas shadow and lumbered towards the blue and green planet, prepared to annihilate it.
| 2014-07-16T14:47:37 | 2014-07-16T11:24:28 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] You have your dream job and the best boss one could ever imagine. Unfortunately they also happen to be a secret super villain. Desperate to keep your job, and keep your boss out of jail, you must work to become his top henchman while simultaneously foiling every scheme they come up with. | 'Thirty years!'
You- and everyone around you- pointedly look at the desk, fidgeting nervously as your boss strode back and forth along the room, mechanised armour hissing and thumping.
'Thirty years I've tried to crush this city like an ant. Thirty years I've toiled tirelessly to bring down its institutions, to drive it before me and hear the lamentations of its citizens. Thirty years I've skulked in the shadows, plotting and scheming. And for what? For *what?!?!*'
He slams down the newspaper onto the boardroom table.
'The keys to the city! The goddamn keys to the goddamn city!'
**HERO VETERAN BRINGS DOWN CORRUPT MAYOR** reads the headline, with a picture of none other than The Suited Terror in the act of breaking down the mayor's door.
'To be fair, sir, none of us could have predicted that bringing down Mayor Richmond would be a *good* thing,' one junior henchperson volunteered.
*Almost none of us*, you thought to yourself.
'And devouring their beloved stadium into a temporary black hole?'
'The asbestos report wasn't released for another week, sir!'
*Unless you have a friend or two in the EPA.*
'Setting off neutron bombs in the surrounding farmlands?'
'Only three people in the nation knew enough biophysics to predict how well that would wipe out the locusts!'
*Four people.*
The Suited Terror sighed deeply and turned back to the table. 'Oh, you're right. We've just had a string of bad luck is all, not your fault. C'mere, group hug.'
You all roll your eyes and shuffle towards his spiked yet comfortingly warm titanium arms.
'Take the rest of the day off, everyone, and remember...stay E.V.I.L!'
'Esteemed, Valued, Integral, and Loved', everyone chanted as they shuffled out.
'Sharon, say hi to the kids for me. Kevin, remember to have that paternity leave form on my desk by Monday. Fatma, thank Jules for the vase- it really brings together the conference room. Oh, and th3md-'
You pause and turn back, sweating nervously. 'Yes, your terror?'
'Oh, please, it's been eight months. Call me Bruce, everyone else does. I just wanted to say that I *loved* the changes you made to our port sabotage plan! Stealing the coal carriers instead of blowing up the docks- so classy! Keep that up and you'll be top henchperson in no time!'
You smile and leave, stopping off at your desk on the way to the lunch room. You have a new email from the Metroville Power Company.
*Hi th3md!*
*I loved your proposal for an expansion of our green power grid- with the orbital laser platform you moved into* *position over the city we should be able to get it up and running in no time!*
*One concern, though- we have a contract with our coal provider to accept another twenty shipments. Our legal* *team is going over the wording of the contract now, but it looks pretty airtight. Any ideas?*
You smile and type out a quick reply.
*I'm on it.*
*-Evil Corp* | 2003 - 2003
----
“C'mon, not again,” Tom whispered as he saw his boss return to the office wearing the red and black metallic suit. He had been so happy after being hired by the best company in New Amsterdam - only to find out his boss was the telekinetic super villain “The Terror Crackle”
Her ridiculous name aside, she was horrid at covering her tracks. The luck needed to not be caught by this point, it must have been enormous. Desperate to keep his job, Tom hatched an evil plan of his own.
He would work hard, gain her trust, and become the top henchmen in her inner circle, working hard to foil all her schemes of destruction! With a *ring* the elevator at the other side of the office opened, which to Tom’s shock contained Miro, the hero. He ran over to his boss who was in her office and said, “Ma’am. Miro is here in the office.” At his words Crackle quickly evacuated her office through a secret door, whispering a thank you.
Now that his boss was not out in the open, Tom walked over to Miro. “Good morning sir. I’m Tom, how can I help you?”
Taking in the office, Miro was slow to answer. “Good morning Tom. There have been reports of the villain “The Terror Crackle” entering and exiting this building. Do you know anything about that?”
Faking a look of surprise and shock, Tom stayed silent for a moment. “There are some connections below this building to the old city. But the entrances to the undercity were supposed to have been sealed before construction of this building began.”
Relieved he had managed to think up a lie on the spot, Tom looked at Miro, hoping he would believe it.
“Thank you for the information. Have a nice day,” Miro said. Turning around, he glanced over the office once more, hoping to spot the red and black suit of the villain he was chasing, before pressing the button of the elevator to leave the building.
A few minutes after Miro had left Tom’s boss appeared at his desk, this time dressed in her suit. “Thank you for covering for me Tom. You’ve passed the test. Would you like to become one of my minions?”
Glad his plan had paid off Tom said, “Yes ma’am. I wish to help you.” Now inside, Tom would have to work double shifts but he would do it. He would rise up to her innermost circle to foil her plans so his job would not cease to exist!
----
For more stories, you should come visit r/maisieklaassen. Lots of weirdness is going on over there. ;D For more stories set in “The Ingenium World”, please check out my [wiki.](https://www.reddit.com/r/MaisieKlaassen/wiki/index) | 2016-11-03T06:28:27 | 2016-11-03T04:15:09 | 122 | 12 |
[WP] You are the Evil Overlord. You have kidnapped the princess. Unfortunately, she developed Stockholm Syndrome. And she is far more evil and insane than you are. | Well, this may be the ump-tenth time I've "kidnapped" the Princess. Every time she gets saved she plays the victim, swoons for her "hero" and goes home with a smile, plotting her next kidnapping in hopes of finally returning here for good. Honestly, she's crazy.
I feel bad for the guy, he's hard working, steady job, well loved. Apparently a little slow or blinded by affection for his Princess. But I guess so am I. Every time she gets away, puts a spell of charm and command over my soldiers and commanders, and is off to the races. I haven't really properly ordered my men in thirty years.
Thirty odd years ago, that's when I made my mistake. My dream of ruling a kingdom and taking the Princess. It was simple as dreams go. But once I had her and fanned my soldiers out into the world she...changed. Next thing I knew she wasn't resisting me. I thought "Great!" But as I gave her freedoms within my castle she started to want to partner more and share my rule. My once glorious and fearful rule! I am now but a joke. A shell of a villain to the world.
She would have some of her old servants captured and then lock them in a smaller castle with her. There she would have arranged that I take her away as though I was moving her confinement to another castle. She must have done this six or seven times messing with the heads of her former companions. Lord knows what they told her rescuer if he didn't bypass their castle.
She started ordering my army to put traps around knowing her man in red would try and save her. They say he even bested a giant ape before so she was not taking chances. I thought she wanted to stay with me at first -and I still think that is partially true - but I know she also just wanted to stay in power and be, well, evil.
Eventually her hero came. As I can't say no to her, I can never say no to her, I defended her in her chambers. When I was bested she played the good princess and was thankful of her savior. A few years later I found her back in my home though, already setting up defenses. Princess told me she missed me...Princess told me she missed all of this. This would repeat time and time again. And yet that blissfully sorry hero would rise to the challenge shouting "It'sa me! Mario!" and thwarting her plans yet again. | I hold my hand against the brown,ancient earth.
The soul trembles under my roots,their twisting veins piercing and shoving through the rock and silt.
It wails as I scoop the mass,so full of life,and crush it in my palm.
Dehydrated soil falls down through my fingers,defeated and hollow.
I chuckle,the rumbling coursing through my ancient body.
The sunlight is blotched by my leaves,their rustling voices chanting in unholy rhythms.
I look down on my captive,it’s full eyes motionless.
My minions sway in the wind,their cacophony of colors stirring the morsel’s mind like a storm thrown in water.
Then...a scream.
A voiceless howl echoes through the plain,the weeds reel in,choking on the suffering and pain.
The morsel stands,its face-now smiling at the screaming flower that is held between two fleshy appendages.
It looms into the ripped body,still leaking green,and shoves it’s snout against it.
My horror of hearing my subject wail in agony is drowned by the look on the creature’s face.
It’s mouth,the blood red skin protruding from its ghostly white skin curls,and it lets out a small chuckle as the flower croaks it’s death scream.
“I should really find my way back to the kingdom.”
It says,as it shoves the severed chunk of plant matter into its million tentacled head.
“Governess Anna must be really mad at me right now!”
She crushes thousands of weeds under her foot,and twirls around the screaming field.
Grain eating beasts fly around and land on her hand,their empty soulless eyes seeking young seedlings to devour.
She suddenly stops,then turns abruptly towards the flowerbed,snow trembling silently as the face of the monstrous thing fixed on them again.
“It wouldn’t hurt to pluck a few more flowers would it?”
The flowers scream in horror and outrage,their leaves quaking as if a tempest is roiling through.
At least tempests grant a merciful death!
The fleshy appendage swoops down once more,and a sickly ‘snap!’ echoes.
“Wouldn’t hurt at all...” | 2018-02-09T05:44:16 | 2018-02-09T03:55:16 | 61 | 10 |
[WP] In a world where having multiple personalities is the norm, the protagonist has been diagnosed with Single Personality Disorder. | School was difficult for me, I always had a special needs teacher in the afternoon and she kept me away from the other children. Walking home after school was rough, they would always poke fun at me because I was "different".
The doctor gave me a tablet to take every morning and evening, but the next month I saw another doctor and they gave me only one tablet to take in the morning. My parents were given a different diagnosis by each doctor, until finally they took me to see doctor Polanco. He made me swear to tell the truth and then asked the same question for over an hour "What is your favourite colour?". I kept telling him green but he only grew more and more frustrated.
Then something clicked in his head and he became extremely friendly, making sure I wasn't thirsty or hungry before leaving me to talk to my parents. I crept over to the door and opened it a crack so I could hear the doctor, all I could hear were my parents crying and asking if it was the MMR vaccine. Eventually doctor Polanco came back and revealed that I didn't have to take tablets anymore, instead they would be using some kind of electric therapy. He also told me that I would stay at the hospital for a while, which I was kind of happy about because I didn't have to go to school.
That was 7 years ago, I am now one of the most respected physicists of this generation. I might not be the best multitasker, I have only one set of friends, but I have 24 hours in a day. Everyone else has less than 12. | When I was seven I found out I was different from my friends. I was at a sleepover and I had only brought one sleeping bag. My friends had all brought two. "Sarah, why did you bring two?" I asked. "One is for Anna. One is for me." I didn't know any Annas, so I just kept quiet and tried to sleep.
On my seventeenth birthday, my boyfriend and I were going to have sex. When he asked me, "Will you tell the others to leave the room?" I didn't know what to say. "Do you... do you not have any splits?" I was confused, but he explained that he (and everyone he knew) had three or more people living in his brain and that they would all take turns living as him. I quickly put on my shirt and left, terrified by this realization.
Now, in my late thirties, I've come to accept my uniqueness. I was part of a study program to determine why I was single-minded, as they called it, but it didn't help and I carried on with my life. It hasn't been the best experience, but at least we can say that we have each other. | 2015-06-07T20:01:20 | 2015-06-07T17:40:48 | 26 | 12 |
[WP] You live in an alternate universe where a person's worst fear becomes a tangible threat in the dark. The rich possess ever-illuminated mansions while the poor conserve power for the dreaded night hours. Just as the sun is setting, your entire town's power grid fails. | *The dark is neither good nor evil. The dark is a mirror.*
"If you fear, you will be taken. If you face your fear, you will survive," the whisper echoes in ears half-filled with the ever-increasing drumming of a frantic heartbeat. Behind me there's the slithering masses of a veritable armada of cockroaches, lurking insects seeking places to devour flesh or deposit eggs. They will burrow into my skin and make it their hives.
But the dark does not recede.
And the skittering masses leave the place to another, deeper fear.
"We're all dead," the familiar faces of my family whisper to me, "Dead because of the dark. Dead and you weren't with us."
Pain, grief, they shear through my soul with a strength no mere blade could ever possess.
And then the deepest fear of them all materializes, and I stand there, alone.
Forever.
Only, forever doesn't last that long. The howling winds of solitude recede, the darkness starts fading out, leaving the place to a blossoming dawn.
I am not alone there. I find others as the rays of the sun warm my skin, and I hug the few that survived, the few whose fears were so incredibly dangerous, and yet also merciful.
For the greater fears do not belong to the realm of the physical. They aren't insects, monsters, assassins, or other terrible creatures of hell given flesh and form and purpose.
The fears of the mind; the fears of loneliness, solitude, of standing alone in a room in which nobody listens to you, nobody cares, of being nothing more than a speck of dirt, a nihilistic worldview in an ocean of selfish desires.
And yet, because of that, there are survivors.
*The dark is a mirror to your deepest, darkest thoughts.*
*However, just like all mirrors, it reflects with the aid of light.*
***So make your thoughts the darkest, and you'll be blinded to your own fears.*** | The all too familiar sound of all of the generators in my neighboring alleyways powering on, it must almost be time for the darkness. The sun should be fully down in about 5 minutes. People didn’t play around with the dark, most people just see clowns and pitch darkness itself, ya know, normal fears. Every now and again you’ll hear of a streetlight out and a grizzly bear mauling someone or a shark eating someone in the middle of a road even though they’ve been extinct for decades but stuff like that doesn’t happen too often as no one in their right mind doesn’t conserve enough energy to make it through the darkness. A buddy of mine’s fear is mice so as you can imagine I like to fuck with him as often as possible. As I’m sitting in thought the lights flicker. The darkness should be here any second I thought, all of the incoming power surges are rough on the grid. Another flicker and then a loud boom from somewhere off in the distance. Complete darkness followed by an eerie silence. Blood currying screams start to pour in. The power is out, judging by the screams it’s at least everywhere surrounding me for at least a couple of blocks. Terrible noises of animals I’ve never seen, hisses of giant serpents and other creatures fill my ears. A slow smile creeps across my face. I look to my left in pitch darkness and can make out the faint outline of my fear, right where he always was. We had come to terms years ago, there were some perks to being blind in this hellhole: now it’s everyone else’s turn. | 2019-01-17T14:36:59 | 2019-01-17T13:19:47 | 44 | 23 |
[WP] Many years ago, an alien invasion nearly wiped out Humanity. Now, the galactic government is desperately trying to reason with a vengeful Humanity by saying that it was a rogue mining company that attacked without their approval or knowledge. | Fourteen billions Manukrians wiped out in a single blast from the human bomb. The unimaginable force of the bomb dropped on the center of the Manukri planet vaporized it in less than a second. The shockwave traveled through the entire Fifth Colony, pushing six planets and four moons off their rotating axis. The light from the explosion was so bright, it temporarily blinded nearly two billions United Galactic citizens in its immediate vicinity. Distress signal was soon rang throughout every corners of the Fifth Colony. Sound of pain and fear filled every communicating channels, so much so that High Command had to shut the system off completely and rebooted on a secured line. Government and private starships from neighboring planets all took flight in a frantic madness shortly after. Most made out in one piece, but some crashed into eachother in desperate attempts to escape. Rescue forces tried their best to help with the evacuation process, but they were helpless against the unfolding horror. High Command's office could do nothing. They stood in silence, watching the massacre through their main monitor. They have never seen this before. This could possibly the biggest declaration of war they have ever received.
"Generals, the Humankind force is attempting to make contact. They want to talk."
Talk? The High Command generals were confused. Humandkind just destroyed an entire species and now they wanted to talk? What could we possibly talk about? Nevertheless, the generals agreed to take the call. A human face appeared on the holo post.
"Who are you?" One general asked.
"My name is Charles Oppenheimer. I am the Commander of the Humankind forces, and the one responsible for the attack that you all are witnessing." The human replied through the translator device, coldly.
"Why are you doing this? What have we done to you to warrant this kind of attack?" Another general questioned with an anger-filled voice.
"What have you done?" The Humankind Commander responded. "Eighty six years ago, your army destroyed Earth. One single bomb dropped by one of your ships. Half of our planet was scorched two-mile deep. The other half was covered in a blanket of radiation and smoke. Seven billions soul perished. That is what you did."
The generals were once again confused. What attack? High Command has not sanctioned any attack against a non-United Galactic entity in nearly two hundred years. What is this human talking about?
"He is talking about the Klee Corps attack." The High Command's Secretary spoke.
"Klee Corps? How? They were disbanded and outlawed long ago!"
"This was an illegal attack, led by Klee's Chief Andrx in hope of searching for Cortanium. Andrx was arrested and executed soon after we learned of the tragedy. I didn't inform High Command about this matter."
"You kept this from us? Why?!"
"The reason none of you know about this was because I did not think the Humankind forces were capable of retaliation."
"I don't think you notice, Secretary, because they just demonstrated to us that they are capable!"
"I understand, sir, but..."
"Enough!" A thunderous voice rang out. Oncrus, the Chief General of the High Command stood up, limbs tensed. They turned to the holo post. "Commander Oppenheimer, the Klee Corps' attack was unsanctioned, committed by a rogue agent of a now disbanded mining corporation. This individual was dealt with accordingly."
"Where is the body?" Oppenheimer asked.
"Excuse me? The body?"
"The body of the individual that committed this atrocious act against our people, where is it?"
"We buried the body. On an unknown planet far away from here." Oncrus hesistantly answered. The Secretary looked at the general, knowing it was a lie. No one knew where Andrx's body was.
"I want to see it. The body."
"Please, we don't know where it is now. The planet is an unmarked one, and to find the body is impossible."
"Fine. Then prepared for the next bomb." Oppenheimer replied.
Fear washed through the High Command office.
"Please stop this madness, Commander. What happened to your race does not mean you can act against us in such a destructive and reckless manner. Fourteen billions citizens was just killed by your bomb. That alone warrants retaliation in the form of an all-out war. You do not want a war with us, do you?" Oncrus tried to reason.
"The Humankind forces have been ready for war the moment we finished burying our dead. Our blood was spilled. Our families broken apart. Our planet forever gone. Our race will never have a home, or will we ever know peace. Your so-called rogue agent made sure of it. So until you can produce a reason why we should stop, our bombs will continue to rain, once a day until there is no more United Galactic or whatever you call yourself. Good day."
Before Oncrus could say anything, Oppenheimer dropped the call. The Chief General sat down, trying to figure out what to do next. One bomb a day, everyday. Until there is no more United Galactic.
"Wha...what now?" Someone asked.
Oncrus sat quietly, unsure of what to say.
Note: Sorry for any grammar mistake, I typed this a little too hastily I think. | “All rise. The Intergalactic Federal court is now in session. High Judicial Archon Irk’nCzrwyon presiding. Please be seated and come to order.” A being of nebula, serves as the bailiff, towering in its enormity vibrates sounds and light as they were being translated to the floating balcony’s desk, where seven humans are seated.
The eternity were filled by elder gods, cosmic celestials, ethereal beings and ancient deities, all were in their overwhelming presence and glory eclipsing the enormity of the planets we considered the largest we could ever fathom, gathered as spectators of the trial.
“Criminal case filed by the prosecutor’s office against the humans of planet Aran’k-sakratin, known to its inhabitants as planet Earth. Counselor? How do you plead?” The entity of three pairs of burning wings spanning in immeasurable size in the most high pedestal in the skies, thunders before the human man in the middle of the seven.
“Not guilty, your honor!” Shouted the man.
“Your honor, these humans have killed thousands of the Tharn’likans after they started mining in the Aran’k-sakratin! A planet legally owned by the Tharn’likans through inheritance. It has been with the Tharn’likans for trillions of aeons. These low life parasitic species who infested the planet have become uncontrollable invaders of the planet and acting they own it!” A being of black void with trillions of small sparkling glitters scattered to its shapeless existence, vibrated towards the High Judicial Archon, which were being translated into words for the humans.
“Objection! Speculating.” The human lawyer interrupted.
“Unless you have evidence, prosecutor Mktoloktuhulan’l that the humans are parasitic species, you must redirect.” The High Judicial Archon thunders.
“I have evidence, your honor. Exhibit A, these are the actual visual documents that shows, that the humans are the parasites to the planet Aran’k-sakratin.” A cloud of burning gasses come together to create a 3D visualization of the human’s exploits of the Earth. “As you have witnessed, your honor, it just 10,000 years, these parasites manage to destroy the natural balance of the planet’s atmosphere and create global warming that can occur naturally for millions of years.”
“That’s is not true, your honor. We have not destroyed our planet as it is the only planet where our specie can thrive! Why would we want to destroy the only place that gives us life?” The human lawyer interjected.
“Because they are parasites! Parasites are ought to kill their host slowly to survive. Isn’t that what they are doing?” The prosecutor asked.
“And what the Tharn’likans were doing is not destroying our planet?” The human councilor asked back.
“The Tharn’likans were just mining molten irons from the planet Aran’k-sakratin as what part of their rights in owning the planet. By expediting the warming of the planet, it also expedites the melting of iron in its immediate outer core. Threatening the balance in the mining industry of our galaxy! Not to mention the merciless massacre of the innocent Tharn’likan miners who have no idea, these low life creates are capable of mass destruction!”
“Your honor, i request that the prosecutor Mktoloktuhulan’l must refrain from calling our specie as low life specie as we are also capable of sentience! And to be allowed to represent ourselves in this court acknowledges us as such.” The human lawyer interrupted.
“Prosecutor Mktoloktuhulan’l, please refrain from using that term in the future.”
“Your honor! I continue to call their specie low life creatures, because even though they are showing signs of sentience, they are categorized as parasitic creatures based on their environmental and evolutionary behavior towards their ecological environment.”
“Councilor, the prosecutor is correct. He has reasons to use the term as the evidences they serve categorizes your specie as a sentient parasite, and that is the lowest category in the intergalactic federation racial hierarchy. Unless, you have evidence to counter the prosecutions allegations against your specie, they have the upper-hand in this case.” The High Judicial Archon said.
“We would like to request for a recess, your honor.” The human lawyer requested.
“It looks like you really needed one. The court will be in recess and resume in three solar cycles of the Planet Aran’k-sakratin. If the defendant can not provide counter argument on the next session, I will read my verdict. ” The High Judicial Archon opened its third wings and a loud banging echoed in the eternity and all were gone.
“We’re screwed!” The second chair of the human lawyer whispered. | 2022-12-17T21:49:39 | 2022-12-17T17:34:16 | 80 | 34 |
[WP] Scientists create a portal to another realm. Rather than attempting to enter the portal in an attempt to seek out other life, the leaders of the world decide to first: dump the entirety of humanity’s trash into it. You are one of the trash men working closest to the portal. | I sat there, pad in hand ready to take notes at this crisis meeting, the entirety of the world's leaders in attendance, all to answer one question.
What are we going to do?
Our world was running out of resources fast, our scientists had tried everything to replicate what we need,but the basics were just not obtainable anymore, we had mined everything, squeezed every drop of precious metals, and gasses from our soil, and even those on our neighboring moons.
We no longer had the resources to continue the attempt of deep galactic mining, even the sea floors had been dredged of its usefulness.
We were going to need a miracle.
We didn't listen to those environmentalists who even now we're protesting outside the senate walls, noone wanted to listen when they warned of exhausting all our natural materials.
The president of the conglomeration stood, "we begin here today, not to find ways to extend but to find a way to ease the suffering of all our people" I knew this was coming, I had seen the reports, without the materials needed our society would collapse with in ten years. "We must come to a consensus on what is the most merciful way of ending us all" as the delegates mumbled ideas few about, "planet wide gas distribution, everyone would just go to sleep", "additives in the remaining food supply, when it was found out it would be too late to stop it". "Think of the panic, the children, the fighting, another wept" there was no solution to this besides culling mass potions of the population, giving those with power a few more years.
After days of deliberation a choice was made, I was there at the factory that was making the solution, may the gods forgive us.
Another quake woke me from my sleep, they had been coming more and more frequent recently, probably to do with the core mining, how stupid could we be.
I could hear shouting and there seemed to be lights everywhere, my device beeped, I guess that was my rest over, "yes" I answered, "where do you need me?".
"Look outside!" The handlers voice almost screeching.
I disabled the privacy screen, and will never forget the sight that greeted me, it was as if the gods heard our pleas, every zealot was right, we would be saved by the grace of the gods.
Pouring from a wormhole in the sky, was resources, bonded hydrocarbons, shards of metals some native to our world other so alien we are still finding uses for them years later, organic matter and the best of all abundance of silicone, we were saved.
Noone knows where it came from or why really, but it still provides for us, everyone pitched in sorting and delivering the resources where it was needed most, everyone had a job and purpose again.
I still think of those gas tanks sat in those warehouses around the world, noone one knows how close we came to annihilation and I pray to the gods they never will.
On the other side of the hole, Dave was taking his lunch break, "those nappies stink" he grumbled at his workmates, I wonder where all the crap ends up? | It isn’t like any other waste management job. Don’t let them tell you any different.
Humanity has created more thrash than anyone realizes during their reign on this earth. The decision did make sense at first. The portal appeared, and when someone kid threw something through it- nothing happened. Nothing at all, except of course that the thing was gone. It was noticed, and the information spread.
That's the story of how the world decided to use the portal as a way to deal with our trash instead of research or travel. Committees sat and decided to throw humanities garbage through the dimensional portal. Once that was decided, they set up a chain of command.
Some people hauled it all to us. 6 of us were in charge of the trash that sat right in front, we threw it, we organized it, we made sure everything was going as planned. There are things no one is going to tell you about the job though.
A few months in things started to change for the worse. We were throwing trash in on schedule, and something came back through. That's right- Something came from the other side of the portal. It beamed one of the other works right on the side of the head, it was heavy. It freaked him out, and in turn, freaked out the rest of us as well. We gathered around him to figure out what it was.
It was the stump of an arm. A ragged cut and dirty human arm. They sent me right away to tell our superiors. They needed to know that a body part had been thrown in response to our trash, they would want to do something about it. Only they didn't. They took the arm from me and sent me back to work. We had to just hope they would make sure it was safe still and that nothing else would happen.
It was fine for a few days, and then a foot came through and hit me in the chest. It knocked the wind right out of me and I nearly lost my lunch. After that, it was a regular occurrence. At least once a day some type of body part or other types of carnage would come through the portal. We were trading trash for viscera.
Each time it happened we bagged up whatever it was and I was tasked with taking to the designated department of our local Portal Cleanup Effort office and marking it down in the new log. It has gotten so bad that they had to create an entire protocol for it.
I don’t know what they do with the body parts, or what the plan is going forward. But you need to know, if you take this job, it's not just trash.
***
/r/Beezus_writes | 2018-11-16T05:43:30 | 2018-11-16T01:27:48 | 77 | 14 |
[WP] You live in a world where every time you have a birthday, you get to level up a skill like in video games (intelligence, strength, charm etc.) most people spread their points evenly on each skill. But you put all 30 of your points into that one skill nobody cares about
You get to choose what that skill is. | In a world like mine, everyone could easily become what they wanted. Wanna be a smart professor making ground-breaking discoveries? Just max out intelligence. Wanna be a bodybuilder? Easy, just level up strength. Or do you just want to become the popular kid? Charisma. It had become too easy to achieve your dreams.
Ironically though, this made it much harder to achieve them. You simply had too much competition from others with the same stats. Being special was not special anymore. I realized this long ago.
So i went the only route i could to become special. Eating bricks. Drinking Clorox Bleach. Stepping on Legos. Yep, you guessed it, i leveled literally the shittiest stat. I currently have 30 resistance and counting.
My shows were world famous. Who doesn't wanna watch some dude slurp down dangerous poison right after eating a dog shit? People loved it. My parents weren't exactly proud, but then again they had probably forgotten about me. Both alcoholics. I couldn't even get drunk because of my resistance. I once downed 3 bottles of tequila at a show and just got tipsy.
People try so hard to be special. They're not. I am. I can bathe in acid motherfuckers. When i'm 80 i can probably survive a flamethrower, or listen to Limp Bizkit without having a stroke. Hell yeah. | “Welcome to News 69, today we have another update on the suicide of the worlds oldest man, brought to you by his great great grandson, Simon. Welcome, Simon!”
A series of questions transpired until Simon gives what his father’s views on life were:
“He struggled a lot. Having no stats in anything other than endurance really put a toll on him, but he never showed it. He never actually finished high school. It was just so hard for him to age and become unhealthy that he couldn’t die, even if he couldn’t really live.
He was great, though. He knew what he was sacrificing by not putting points into anything else, and he was always trying to learn to do things on his own, even though that was sometimes impossible with his skillset. He liked knowing each of his relatives, too. I can only imagine how horrible it was for him to lose everyone he knew twice. Sometimes you just don’t want to outlive certain things.”
| 2018-09-12T10:57:43 | 2018-09-12T09:47:40 | 39 | 23 |
[wp] When someone dies, they go to a platform where you can choose to move in to the afterlife, not knowing whether you will go to heaven or hell. You meet someone who has stood there for millenia, trying to decide if they should go. | When the door opened, I'm not sure what I expected to see. Maybe the Pearly Gates, or a paradise resting in the clouds? Instead, I was met with a simple white room, like a doctor's office, and a single wooden door on the far wall. It looked old and faded from age and use.
I turned back around and jumped at being met with a white wall like the other three. The door that I had just come through was gone.
"Don't be alarmed." A thin voice spoke. It belonged to a stout young woman who was sitting against the wall, gazing up at me like I was the first person to come here in centuries. "That is supposed to happen."
"Where are we?" I asked, skipping past the formalities.
She smiled dimly and motioned to the room like it was the grandest of ballrooms. "I call it the Between, some people have called it Purgatory, but it does the same thing." She pointed at the door at the far wall, "If you step through that door, and your soul is clean, you'll go to Heaven. If you're a filthy sinner, you take the express elevator down."
I nodded slowly. "How do you know that?"
"I've been here a long time, kid, believe me, I pick up a few things."
"So why don't you step through the door? Are you afraid you'll go to Hell?"
I could see the sudden pain in her eyes, an old wound being torn open again, but she fought against it well and shook her head. "No. I don't care where I go, I'm waiting for my... my son."
She was fixated on a single tile on the floor, trying to jog her memory and remember what it was she was doing here. The set of her jaw told me that she didn't really believe what she was saying, either.
"How long have you been here?" I asked quietly.
She looked up at me then, with eyes so blue that I would've believed she had been born from the ocean, and in them I saw years upon years of solitary misery as she waited for someone that would never come.
I knelt down beside her. "Whomever you're waiting for, I'm sure they wouldn't want you to be in pain here. Come with me through the door, they can find you there."
A prickly laugh escaped her throat. "How do you know?"
"I don't. But you've created your own personal Hell here, and this is only the Between. It's time to move on."
"I can't-"
I put a finger to my lips and cut her off gingerly, grabbing her boney hand in my own. I pulled her up onto legs that looked like they hadn't been used in decades, and I helped her over to the door.
"I'm scared." She whispered. In that simple phrase, I realized that she wasn't waiting for anyone, she was clinging to the fear from her old life, afraid that it would follow her to the afterlife.
"I know," I whispered back, and I pushed open the door, "that's the very first step."
Without another glance back, she squeezed her eyes shut and disappeared into the darkness of the door. I took the glance back that I didn't allow her to have, and with a small smile, I let the darkness consume me. | "Hello?"
There was no response. There were a few people lining the edges of my vision, but none spoke. I came up to one, sporting the longest black beard I had ever seen.
"Hello? Where are we?"
He gave me a baleful look. His eyes seemed like sandy mud chunks and his limbs were worn to the bone. Skin and freckles were all he had to his name, and no clothes. I didn't understand that. I had clothes.
"Why are you naked?"
There was an ageless interval where nothing happened. He blinked, and with great effort, snapped his jaw shut twice, like he was eating. He swallowed emptily.
"Oh... Ok. I'll... I'll come back later."
He frowned and shook his head. A stern gaze marked him.
"Don't you know who that is?" Someone called in the distance. I turned and ran towards the source. Another person started to emerge from the misty fog. Light, girlish echoes sounded over he corridor.
"He's an Ancient Greek philosopher."
"Which one?"
"I'm not sure," they called out. "It's either Heraclitus or Parmenides."
I stopped in my tracks as the figure came into view. A teenage girl stood in front of me, a little stout and shorter than I was expecting. Her voice carried very well from here.
"How do you know that?"
"I don't know, it's a guess. But he's been here way longer than me."
I took tentative steps towards her. I had so many questions, but nerves were getting the better of me. Maybe it was better to turn back and not know where I was, like the one time I opened my parent's bedroom door late at night.
My feet didn't let me turn around.
"Why can't I move?"
"Because we can't. Only onward."
"...oh. Who are you?"
She scoffed. "Who can say? Maybe I'm God, maybe I'm Satan, maybe I'm Buddha or Vishnu or a Second Vishnu."
I shrugged it off.
"I'm kidding of course. I'm Maria Olson from Tuscaloosa."
"...Sounds cool," I tried to lamely comment.
"Eh. It's ok. But what about you? You're a new shade around here."
I was about to respond when someone else called out in the distance.
"Hey! Where are we?"
I turned my head and answered, "I don't know!"
The voice was quiet.
Maria gave me a look. "You have a terrible imagination. I know where this is."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Purgatory. We have to wait here forever."
The new footsteps started approaching us.
"Hmm. Maybe I'll go investigate."
"You go in, if you like. Just remember, you can't go backwards."
I nodded and started walking. Whoever else was there could figure this out.
| 2016-08-14T05:52:11 | 2016-08-14T05:25:06 | 119 | 56 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second... | It was 12:01 before I felt myself breathe again.
It was 12:02 when I heard the first sob.
It might have been my mom, I don't remember.
I held my arm away from my body like a vial of toxic chemicals, like it would catch my body on fire if I held it too close.
My uncle shifted nervously in his seat, waiting for something to happen.
I think my sister might have grabbed my hand at some point.
I don't know, I don't remember.
I couldn't speak.
I couldn't hear.
I couldn't move.
Because when I severed my spine in a car accident 2 years ago, the world came to an end
And when *OLYMPIC GYMNAST* appeared on my arm tonight, the world ceased to exist completely. | *11:59 PM*
My family gathered around me, silently waiting. We were all eagerly anticipating the Choosing, a lame name for a cool time.
*12:00 PM*
My mother smiled at me. She grabbed my arm and looked as the word as it appeared.
"What is it?" a chorus of family members asked.
She frowned. I took my arm back and took one hard look.
**Nudist.** | 2017-03-16T03:02:12 | 2017-03-16T02:03:50 | 226 | 71 |
[WP] After months of finding small knickknacks placed on your back porch, you've found the culprit. It's a small mouse living under your house. You go into the crawlspace and find a shrine made of several of your socks and pictures of you. Out of a dark corner a mouse approaches you, trembling. | The air was heavy and thick with the stench of mold. I really need to get a contractor out here before my house collapses.
I crawled my way past mounds of dirt saturated with bug spray. Hey, at least it keeps the spiders away. Moving forward I saw a peculiar light ahead. The unmistakable warmth and flickering of fire illuminated the ceiling from behind the hill in front of me. At first I thought my house had caught fire, but the light was too weak.
I made my way over the mound to find... a shrine? My picture lay flat against a support pillar, surrounded by several socks and other missing trinkets from my house. Two small candles illuminated the area in a warm and solemn glow.
I stared at the scene, bewildered at its existence. Was some creep living under my house?
As if to answer my thoughts a black figure moved from the shadows beyond the firelight. A small mouse with stained brown hair moved forward in front of the shrine. He seemed to almost... bow to me.
“Hey little guy.”
His head snapped up to meet my eyes, as if he was startled by my voice.
“You have heard the call”
I jumped, hitting my head on a metal pipe. “What the fuck?” I was in a state of confusion and panic. It must be carbon monoxide poisoning, or...
“You have heard my call great one. I as- , I *humbly* ask for a favor for one of your disciples.”
I stared at the mouse. “You’re... you’re talking?”
“Yes. I am breaking many rules by directly addressing a god of old. Too many times have our kind been hunted by you. But our colony is in great da-“
“You mean there’s more of you???” I felt as if I was going to faint. “What the fuck is going on”
“I- I am sorry if I have angered you, great one. I will leave your presence, if you please.”
I thought for a minute, the mouse staring at me. I wasn’t crazy, was I? Hallucinations don’t feel this real...
“What, uh, what can I do for you?”
He stepped side to side in giddy excitement.
“The prophecy is being fulfilled, great one. A prophecy written by a god long passed from this plane. The birds have become sentient. They hunt our scavenging parties and destroy our homes.”
I stared intently at him, and he stared back with solemn eyes.
“The prophecy foretells of a Great War. The great awakening. The creatures that scuttle across the ground in darkness will soon see the light, as has been predicted for generations. The birds were not the last to be awakened. We ask for your alliance in defending our home. To offer refuge against them in the coming fight. Your kind has been awakened longer than any, and your powers are unmatched.”
I thought for a minute. “So, how can I aid you in this fight?”
“So you have accepted?”
I chuckled and sighed. “Uh, yeah?”
He made a squeak of excitement and turned around to the shrine. He picked up a small horn-like trinket and put it to his mouth. A small, almost imperceptible noise emitted from it.
His eyes darted around the void beyond the light. Slowly the blackness swirled as hundreds of mice marched slowly out of the darkness. They each carried a small spear in one hand and a shield made of wood in the other.
My mouth was agape in amazement. The original mouse turned around to face me as other mice donned him in armor made of tinfoil and bottle caps. He grabbed an axe made from a razor blade fixed to a stick from another mouse. He stood proudly, satisfied with his newfound alliance.
“We are at your command, great one. What would you have your disciples do?” | It's dark and damp under the house, and a foul smell punches me in the face as I crouch down and crawl in.
I shine my flashlight around; mainly dirt and garbage, but something catches my eye. Socks and.... photos?
Photos of me, all laid out on the ground and, peculiar as it sounds, the dirt around them looks like it's been raked into makeshift picture frames.
"What the hell?" I whisper to my self, or so I thought.
A little squeak causes me to lurch up a bit and knock my head on the house's underbelly. Something creeps up from behind the mound of dirty socks, and I shine my light in its quivering face.
A mouse. Just a timid, dirty little mouse.
"Hey there, little guy," it stares at me and cocks its head to the side. "So, you've been taking my socks and... my pictures? But that doesn't explain the rock formations that keep appearing on my porch, there's no way—"
I stop short as the mouse—I shit you not— stands up on its hind legs and walks over to the photos.
"That's a new one on me..."
Its moving like I've never seen a rodent move before, and, to my disbelief, it points right at a photo of me and then at my own confused face.
"You.... you recognize me in the picture?"
The mouse nods.... ya, I'm almost certain it nodded.
"Can you understand me?" I keep the light pointed upwards so as not to blind the little guy.
It nods again, and I laugh hysterically.
"No, I'm sorry. There's no way you know what I'm saying."
The little guy literally puts his paws on his plump mouse hips and nods aggressively; pointing back and forth between the pictures and myself over and over again.
"Ok. OK! So... you do understand me, but how? And why are you hoarding my filthy socks and photos?"
The mouse gets back down on all fours and runs off into the darkness.
"Wait!" I shout after him, worried he'll never return and my confidence in what I saw will fade like a dream from an afternoon nap.
To my surprise and delight, he returns with a little bag in his paws.
"Oh, my god," I'm wide eyed now.
*Mushrooms.*
I beg you not to judge; I've always been adventurous, and responsible use of psychedelics has been a favorite pastime of mine. Growing batches in my green house has meant my friends, family, and I never have to deal with shady drug dealers, and its given me a steady stream of extra cash for bills; however, I couldn't have known I'd accidentally force a rodent through thousands of years worth of evolutionary progress with a naturally occurring fungi.
"You've been eating my mushrooms?"
The mouse squeaks pleasantly and nods as he hugs the bag.
"And you now you can recognize me in a photo, and build intricate rock formations on my porch, and actually understand the sounds I'm making..."
More joyful nods, and the mouse approaches me slowly on two legs. My face is close to the dirt, and my new rodent friend stops short, falls to his knees, and bows down low with his little paws outstretched in front of him.
*Oh, Lord. The mouse thinks I'm its God.*
/r/BeagleTales | 2019-06-15T11:27:10 | 2019-06-15T11:18:19 | 398 | 295 |
[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 Scott.
I guess I took everything you did for granted. It's been really hard without you here. Your daughter still asks when you're coming to pick her up and she always gets sad when I explain to her that you can't.
She really loves you and you were a good father. She started listening to one of the books you recorded. Hearing your voice always makes her so happy. She follows along in the book like you remind her to every chapter. It's hard. I burst into tears when I heard you sound out a word you knew she'd have trouble with.
We miss you. I hope where ever you are you're not in pain anymore. | I don't think I've ever seen your hair put up in a bun//
After knowing you for all these years I thought I saw every side to you//
But then I realised there were more sides I've never seen done//
And now I wish that I truly got to know you// | 2017-11-05T23:19:05 | 2017-11-05T22:33:24 | 58 | 10 |
[WP] The amount of things promoting Raid: Shadow Legends is starting to get suspicious. News anchors, Congressmen, random Live Leak videos and even terrorists are thanking them as a sponsor. The SCP Foundation decides to investigate this as a possible anomaly. | **SCP-62109**
**Object class** - Euclid
**Containment procedures** -Any instance of SPC-62109 must be recorded and removed from its location. This may involve speaking to video host platform, YouTube, as the videos on the site are the most common location of instances of The anomaly. Tape recordings of the anomaly, referred to as SCP-62109-a are to be held within a containment drawer.
The only cases in which any SCP-62109-a is to be removed from containment is by class D personnel and under supervision.
**Description** -SCP-62109 is an often repeated advertisement for the mobile phone game Raid: Shadow Legends. These advertisements seem normal and have little to no noticeable effect on human subjects. Anomalous properties only manifest when the person effected by SCP-62109 attempts to download and play the game.
As detailed in experiment 62109-a-1, Subjects exposed to SCP-62109-a who then download and play the game become characters in the game themselves. They seem to vanish upon opening the application on a mobile device. Upon the next update new characters are introduced, the new characters heavily resemble all our vanished D class personnel.
It also appears that subjects who interact with SCP-62109 by itself have no apparent anomalous effects. Likewise, subjects who have downloaded the game and have played it before interacting with SCP-62109 are not effected. | Be there or be square he said, no one saw it coming when the squarespace attacked.
Then the global internet black out was ushered in by nordvpn.
While people were too distracted turning into squares or unable to polish their spears at midnight it finally happened.
Raid: Shadow Legends succeeded where no other scummy microtransaction riddled mobile game could.
They had finally sacrificed enough bank accounts to summon the microtransaction god, the king of all clashes and crusher of all candies: E'Aye.
But there is a glimmer in the heart of Poland, a holy order dedicated to fight this evil, known as the Projekt. Pre-orders have been sent but the internet is dark and the real world full of terrors.
We do not know if salvation can be claimed, but what we do know is gamers will not be going down without a fight. | 2020-01-30T15:00:46 | 2020-01-30T14:46:19 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] You're a killer dumping your latest victim into the river. Just as you're about to be done, you spot another person. Doing exactly the same thing. And they've just spotted you, too. | There are some situations where despite sharing an experience, you just don't talk to people. When a man walks up to a urinal next to another man because that's the only open one, both men are aware of what the other is doing, but neither one mentions it. When a man is holding a bag of diapers in the only open cashier line at 2am behind another man waiting to buy a plunger, both men are aware of what the other is doing, but neither one mentions it.
When drivers are sitting in traffic, windows rolled down, all parallel to each other, they all know that every other driver is having the same experience, is feeling the same things they are, was brought there by the same circumstances and will leave by the same too. None of that matters, though, because none of them are going to break the silence of idling engines and radios and try to talk to any other.
There's a lot of things like that. We all know when not to talk to each other; it's part of being a well adjusted adult. So, after dragging a body out of my trunk and down the hill to the river, upon spotting someone else about twelve feet downriver tossing in a sleeping bag, I didn't say anything. Neither did they. We made eye contact, each gave a little nod, and they walked back up to their van while I took care of business. By the time I got back to my car, they had already left without ever saying a word.
Just the way civilized people are supposed to behave. | I spotted him across the river. Just a guy in a suit with a large package wrapped in a bloody sheet. Ew. What a mess. The guy had to be new.
I dropped my carpet wrapped body on the bank and kicked the heaving weight into the river. It wasn't the first one. Sure wouldn't be the last. It wasn't even the last this week.
I lifted my chin to acknowledge the newcomer. “How's the fishing?”
He squealed and dropped the package in the dirt. Jeez, he had no idea what he was doing. “I didn't see anything.”
“Hmm, you should get a hat. Keep the sun out of your eyes.”
The guy nodded and stared at me as he toed the package into the river. It fell into the water and drifted lazily with the current.
He was going to get caught doing stupid shit like that. But I wasn't going to arrest him. It's seem be a little hypocritical at the moment.
“See ya around.” I tipped my hat and strolled away.
“Yeah, I'll see you…” he said, “Sheriff.” | 2017-10-12T20:59:09 | 2017-10-12T19:44:21 | 34 | 15 |
[WP] You're a 'comically incompetent' supervillain for a group of C-List heroes. They are no real threat to you, so you endure their childish speeches. However, when the heroes raid the civilian business you run on the side and injure your employees, you decide to take yourself seriously for once. | “I’m not a bad person (or am I better described as an “entity”), I used to be a bit of a monster but that was a LONG time ago before I had a handle on my powers. Turns out that when you have the ability to drain life force and devour souls coupled with a requirement to feed in order to survive things get a little crazy. I spent some time leading Aztec sacrifices as Tezcatlipoca, the Egyptians called me Apopis, I lived in Greece under the guise of Thanatos, and most recently lost my cool in Romania in the 1400’s. Ever since then I’ve done a really good job keeping everything in check; and ever since the 1500’s I’ve been working on passion project… pizza.
There are three things I like to do, cause low level mischief to keep hero’s employed (charity work), attempt to perfect the worlds greatest food (pizza), and also monologue in my own head (which I am currently doing fantastically). You see I tend to get introspective when I’m dealing with a mental crisis and at the moment I’m furious. Those so called “heroes” who constantly endanger the population with their wild antics (unless I craft some easy to crack scheme to occupy them) have crossed a line. I’m all for messing with your rivals but they did the unthinkable; they messed with my people and my pizza.
A few minutes ago I was prepping some pepperoni in the back room when I heard an explosion. I ran out front and to my horror discovered the heroes had “raided” my “secret lair” and in doing so they blew up the front of my store. Those asshats failed to account for the fact that I employ a super sweet teenager named Jenny and she just got carted away in an ambulance due to shrapnel! These animals wouldn’t even let me make sure she was okay before they put me in chains and threw me in the back of their van. It’s been ages since I’ve held a man’s soul in my hands or brought balance to the world through reckoning; but perhaps I’ve been too lax. These beings have no care for the plight of others and they’re too divided, I think this world needs to be reminded what a real monster looks like.”
The one called “Jim” also known as The Reaper, The Scourge of Gehenna, and Ruin One True Horseman of the Apocalypse opened his emerald eyes. In one fluid motion he cracked his neck and tore apart the heavy lead chains that had restricted his body.
The whites of his eyes rapidly darkened to a hue so deep they resembled a black hole and the green of his iris gained a subdued and yet somehow blinding brilliance as if the cosmos themselves rotated in his orbital sockets. The air warped around him and multicolored bands of radiant light shot out from his hands to impale the three costumed men in the van with him. In a fraction of a second (too fast for the human eye to witness) the bands warped to become wrapped in skeletal claws radiating an aura of insatiability. The 3 men gave out chocked gasps as their bodies rapidly decomposed becoming blacked motes of ash in a matter of seconds. An instant later the van itself careened into the car in front of it as a rusted husk and the buildings around became to crack and wither. Ruin calmed himself and the dome of decay surround him retracted to envelope his body.
“There is no need to harm the innocent when the guilty are so plentiful, after all souls all taste the same, and goodness deserves to survive (at least for now)… for it is not yet time to begin the work and something that is clean is easier to Ruin!” | I stormed back into my car as my staff were carried away by ambulances. I would wait there until the police investigation on my store would finish, so I could finish closing up for the day. *Those bastards..* I didn't know what happened, only caught the tail end of it. I was coming back from my break when I saw that fucking 'superhero team' leaving with all the money in my cash register. They called themselves 'The Heroes Of Peace'. What kind of name was that, anyway? The fact that all four of them agreed to it was astounding. I looked up, realizing that I should probably head home, and that the police investigation on my store would most likely last several days. As I backed out of the lot where I my store was, I began imagining what I would do to them if I found them. I anticipated it greatly.
(A few days later).
I'm on a walk, sometime around midnight. A wanted poster catches my eye. The person on the poster is supposedly wanted for numerous murders, the victims all with their throats torn out. I scoff. These posters have been being put up for months, with no sign of stopping. Another sign of how incompetent these supposed heroes are. That's when I notice the first of their team, Thunderclap, also seemingly on a walk. I've seen them enough times without proper disguises to recognize them. I shift myself to look and sound like another team member, Captain Pyro. I walked up to them cheerfully. "Hey, buddy!" I call to them. They looked surprised. "What are you doing up this late, Pyro?" I smile. "Oh, nothing. Just having trouble sleeping. You?" "Same here." While they talk about whatever bullshit made them unable to sleep, I slowly drew the switchblade I always kept in my back pocket. I notice we're just reaching an alleyway. "Hey, can I ask you a question?" They blinked. "Sure." I shoved them into the alley and against a wall, flicking open my knife and driving it into their stomach. I now shift myself back to normal. Their eyes widen. "Wha- What the hell?!" They say, in shock. "Why did you destroy my pizza shop? Assault my coworkers?" "We- we-" They stop trying to think of panicked excuses and start to scream for help. I stop them, drawing the switchblade from their stomach and using it to remove their tongue. I now press the knife lightly to their throat as their eyes widen even more. "You know those police reports that have been being released, of all those missing people being found with their throats cut out?" Their eyes widen even more, as I whisper, with almost childlike glee. "*I* did that." I drew the knife across their throat. I wipe the knife across their shirt before pocketing it. I then hit them hard in their knee, causing them to fall. I turn and begin to walk away. I notice another one of the wanted posters. I grab it and look at it for a few moments. I smirk, before tossing it on Thunderclap's lifeless body. | 2022-11-28T20:13:47 | 2022-11-28T19:43:40 | 105 | 39 |
[WP] A new dating website accurately pairs up every single person on the planet with someone they'll love, with 100% accuracy. Everyone except you, because there are an odd number of people on Earth. | When the representative told me I wasn't sure what to make of it. Somehow, he said, it was something that they never thought to check for before starting out. How could that be?? I mean, I'm no genius, but I know a thing or two about even numbers.
As I sat there, floored by the fact that I was the only person on earth who didn't have a soulmate, he began talking about "options". Or at least he started to, but after a pause I think he realized how silly that was considering the circumstances because he just trailed off.
To fill the void of awkward silence, I cleared my throat and changed the subject. So if I'm the odd man out that must mean *he* had someone, right? He smiled wanly and nodded. Tell me about her, I asked.
I saw his eyes slightly lose focus as he called up a mental image of her, and his smile broadened. He spoke of her laugh. The way her pinky jiggles when she's lost in thought. Her hobbies and dreams and eating habits. And let's not forget her *body*...
The pit in my stomach slowly broke apart as he talked, hearing the love in his voice. I found that I could picture perfectly this person that he was so enamored with. She did indeed sound great, perfectly lovable. And in that moment I realized that all was not lost. I just had to do a little creative math.
So now I'm on my way to see her, his ID in my pocket in case I need a refresher on their address. I have a feeling we'll really hit it off, I'm a pretty persuasive guy. Of course, if it doesn't work out it's not the end of the world. What's that old saying?...
There are plenty of other people's fish in the sea. | Sarah called, I grabbed my phone but I didn't answer right away. Couldn't seem too eager so I let it ring for a few seconds. "What's up?" I said.
"Come over right now," she said.
I paced. Did she break up with Zak? Was it my time? I looked at my calendar, a calendar of cats doing yoga. Today was September 25th, and it had been four years since this dating terror started. I hadn't even seen a naked person in years. Every porno site and strip club went out of business. People didn't need fantasy sex they said. Well I need fantasy sex dammit
I took a breath, "I'll be over in a sec."
Sarah opened the door with a big smile, she hugged me and said, "I've got great news." I sat down at her front table. She finally realized she loved me, I know it took her four years but I forgive her. Sarah brought out another woman. "This is is your new partner," Sarah said. "Hello," The woman waved. "I'm Joyce."
I went in for a hug and a kiss but Joyce put her hands up, "Oh no I'm married." Joyce pointed at her stomach, "This is your partner. In 18 years of course."
"That can't be right," I said and I ran out of the house. I don't need anyone. I'll spend my disposable income on fried chicken and cats, that's all I need in life.
| 2016-08-25T01:29:19 | 2016-08-25T00:24:56 | 122 | 21 |
[WP] You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal. | After a century, i realized i could sell my own antiques, squeeze my body through bank vaults, and start enough crummy businesses to be wealthy. There was a long line of J. Alfred Smiths on the west coast. I ate in the finest restaurants and kept up with the height of fashion, because there are certain things an immortal is entitled to.
Happiness is not one of them. I sighed as I sat down to dinner with Barb. She order the wine, like the last three times. "Something foreign and old please." She turned to me. "Mort, honey, you're looking thin! Let's get you something hearty, huh?"
"Of course dear." I said aloud. In my head I was wondering why we were still together. I had looked like death for twenty years. If you look freaky enough people tend to leave you be, and after 500 years, I was getting tired of people.
But I couldn't get tired of Barb! Now happiness is certainly out of my reach, but novelty isn't!
"Hon, the wine!" she says. The waitress returns, two goblets, one bottle (corked.)
I can't figure out how Barb is poisoning me. I watch her hands. "Oh! That smells amazing! Jay, could you take a picture with you phone? Of the wine lable?"
I protest. "Beh. You can just remember it." Internally: just poison me already I want to see it!
"Jay;" Barb said sweetly. "please." She started. The waitress held the bottle awkwardly.
I rummaged through my pockets for one of those ... cellular telphones. (I missed courier pigeons. It used to be an event when news came to town! Damn natural philosophers.)
"Fine, but..." I said, motioning between the two of us with an aged veiny hand. "Only because I love this." ('This' meaning a chance to catch her red handed. It was the most exciting thing that had happened to me in twenty years.)
I flipped the plastic devil open. It was too bright for my old eyes, so I made them younger. I got my password, 1496, on the third try. My old thumb was shaking at the excitment of catching her. The camera blurred as I moved it into the right angle. I had studied painting with the Renaissance artists, but the buttons on the infernal brick were too dammed small! The waitress uncorked the bottle and left without taking our orders.
"There I have a picture!" I coughed.
"Great, Honey, could you text it to me?" She waved away the waitress.
"Beh."
"Okay. You can do it later." She grabbed the wine. I watched her hands. She poured hers first, and a half glass for me. Nothing. Not a sign. When we clinked glasses, her finger touched the edge of mine, but not the rim. Nothing.
We drank. I drank arsenic, for the fourth week in a row, and I finished off the glass in one pull. Barb started at me, confused but smiling.
I felt the skin at the back of my neck youthen and tighten. I fought to keep control of my face, to keep I supernaturally old and sad.
"Is something wrong? Feel okay?" she asked sweetly.
(How? HOW WAS SHE DOING THIS?)
"Nothing." I nearly wept from frustration.
\+++
It took me five years to realize it took me five years to realize she was putting arsenic powder in my glass while I was futzing with the devil-phone! | The wine had been poisoned, again. She had been expertly subtle this time, choosing a wax sealed Margaux to nigh imperceptibly inject a substantially lethal dose of what I am sure was something truly lethal alongside going to the trouble of rebranding the maker’s mark with a magnificently accurate forgery. Gods, what a woman! It is that sheer tenacity and strength of will that keeps me from having her vivisected in front of her ailing friends and family. This one is definitely a keeper for sure, she has that ingenious cruelty combined with an unnending, unquenchable greed which is just so rare these days. Remarkably uncommon even in the vilest pits of social aristocracy. I mean, it is just so hard maintaining interest in the good people of the world when you have seen as much as Ihave. To the average old man a year has become but a fraction of his many and so increasingly pass by at an ever-quickening pace. Yet, what is his one seventyfifth of a year to my eighthundredth. You’re all mayflies and ants and any good I have done was always outweighed by the sins of the many, so why not have a few centuries off? God certainly has.
So yes, right. She passed me the bottle, not letting any of our significant entourage handle the concoction in the slightest for she knows how accidentally clumsy I can suggest that they be. I opened with my usual vigorous showmanship and she waited with bated breath for me to breathe its hideous fumes in deep, as is typical to check for spoilage.
I watched with some slight annoyance as her immaculately manicured, razor sharp nails scratched the oak of my 17th Century Wainscot chair, she perched like a starved and beaten eagle about to strike its unaware, ignorant prey. As I brought the bottle to my face I turned to her and looked directly into her cold, merciless, eyes. Her eyes are beautiful, truly gorgeous, they are of the most absolute and purest hatred. A delightfully dark and spiteful evil that I had delicately cultivated like a putrid and deadly bacterium for what must have been decades. A lot of hard work has gone into my carefully calculated torture of this marvellous woman, long hours that I will not get back, but it has been so significantly worthwhile.
Then I did something naughty. I stared lovingly into that vast abyss of bile and I winked, knowingly, obviously. I winked and downed the entire bottle, then encouraged the astounded and uproarious cheers as they grew in wild, rapturous, vigor. As I finished, I threw the bottle into the air and let it smash a Louis XIV religeuese clock on the mantlepiece which was admittedly regrettable.
She was stunned, paralysed in an incomprehensible moment of absolute confusion and impossible failure. That look, that soul-tearing, heart-wrenching look that she makes so well, that’s why I love her so very, very much. I cannot wait until she tries again. | 2019-07-31T10:31:43 | 2019-07-31T10:09:35 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] It’s the birth of a new universe, and you’re trying out to become a war god. But, that role was already filled, and you got booted to a fertility god. At first you’re upset, not sure where to start, but then you start to get an idea. After all: “love is a battlefield” | “Who?!” I asked incredulously, “Who could possibly be a better War deity than I?” I’d attempted a wrath filled roar to punctuate this outburst, inwardly cringing at the sultry, soft purr that I ended up with. I threw an ambrosia filled goblet across the room and it clattered behind the huge, looming form of Balruze the newly minted god of hunting, spraying glowing liquid over the pristine marble plinth. I curled my lip up in a lame triumph, at least I could still make a mess.
“For Heaven’s sake Dremarra!” said the old woman who stood wincing in front of me. Grey and ancient, she was the previous god of fertility, tasked with inducting me into my new role as her successor.
“You were told why. Rakhar was the more suitable”.
“Rakhar!” I snorted, “nepotism and nothing more landed him that position. And what about this?“ I motioned to the new form I had been given, shapely and soft. I was, by any measure, impossibly beautiful. I was about as hard and menacing as a dormouse, a far cry from the brutal form my mind had provided me during the try outs.
I couldn’t believe it, but I felt heavy, frustrated tears springing to my eyes. In panicked embarrassment, I fled to the vast balcony just outside the chamber. Clutching the marble balustrade, I peered out at the writhing, formless mist that would soon coalesce into the new universe. Crystalline tears fell from my cheeks and down into primordial mass.
“You’ll soon understand why you’ve been chosen for this role”, the old woman’s reassuring voice broke my reverie and I turned to look at her worn, weary features. Shaking her head and smiling benevolently, the old woman continued, “there is more to your powers than you know, more than love. You’ll have more than your fair share of strife. Let me show you.”
There was a hard and wicked edge in the eyes of the old woman, something I’d failed to notice until then. Wordlessly, I allowed her to lead me back into the chamber.
\--
“Return the Queen to me and we will spare the lives of your young!” The old king roared from the front of a line of wild-eyed, gore-clogged men.
“Come and claim her if you dare, old man!” The arrogant and youthful Duke, the King’s most hated rival, stood upon a broken cart behind a wall of his own men. “She’s mine now, no longer will she suffer your repellent tyranny!”
The King gritted his teeth in rage, raising his chipped and blood-slicked axe high above his grizzled head. With the dread light of bloodlust gleaming in his wide, mad eyes the King barked out the command to charge. Like a dreadful blood-dimmed wave cresting over a stony beach, the old king and his men smashed into the braced line of the Duke’s forces. The sickening noise of battle filled the ears of the onlooking Queen, safely ensconced within the fortified keep overlooking the carnage. In her heart she wished them both dead, but as the old king’s axe split the young Duke’s head down to the neck, her heart faltered and she moaned dreadfully as she struggled to reconcile her conflicting feelings. In shock and horror, she fell to the ground, bile surging up her throat and onto the rough hewn floorboards of the keep.
\--
“I must admit”, said Rakhar gamely as he motioned toward the dreadful sight below, “I’m not sure which of us gets the credit for this one.” I smiled a warm, shapely, heart stopping smile. The old woman had been right, love itself can be a battlefield in more ways than one. | "God of fertility? GOD OF FERTILITY! WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN!" Mangala raged.
He would've kicked over the golden stand next to him if it weren't so heavy. He glared over at Eirene whose calm disposition only worsened the situation.
"How does she get the title of god of war and not me?" Mangala protested, "I served in the Indian military - a field marshal, commandeered troupes in the civil uprising with success and I am literally named after a god of war. How is this tree-hugger given my position?"
His voice boomed around the golden laden room as the other gods sat around in a circle starring at him standing in positive anger.
"I am afraid she was the better applicant. No hard feelings Mangala and being bestowed the title of God of fertility is a befitting title of your skills," came the low rumble from what appeared to be a cube of light at the center the room, "I am certain you will do right by it."
Mangala felt insulted, toyed with - it reminded him of his sisters, Asha and Diya. They would paint his lip red whilst he slept and then let him run out into the village hours later to meet his friends to receive his mockery. His revenge would be cutting off chunks of their thick black hair in ways no boys would want to look at them. Off course, his victory would be short lived as his father would spank him for his mischief till his bottom matched the colour of his lips.
Like his nine year old self - all Mangala could do now was storm out of the great hall, ready to bash over anything that got in his way. Eirene, the other newly appointed gods nor the all powerful cube in the middle of the room could care less for his tantrum. He failed to make his point.
It did not help that the great hall opened out into a beautiful meadow that drowned any emotion except serenity and like its vastness, filled you with it to the brim. Mangala spat in disgust as at the thought of feeling comforted.
It's not often Mangala doesn't get his way and when he doesn't, he make sure he does. In the end, his sisters conceded to his temperament when he threw Asha's thieving husband of the village bridge despite him only being fourteen and her husband ten years older. The crook's motif was Asha not being able to bear him children - so he took his compensation. Ever since, his authority was never challenged again. Not by his sister, not by his father, not by any of the villagers and not even by his subordinates. The crook did survive, he just never bothered to come back up river.
Mangala relished that memory, despite the bullets, the bombs, the punches and blood, it was that moment he realized how much power he held in those fists of his.
He looked out into the field and oh how he wished there was a bridge he could throw that stupid dumb cube off. In that moment, the grace of the field was swept up by the bloodlust of Mangala. Wouldn't it be nice if people were thrown of bridges to appease him he thought. Wives, children, fathers doing what they need to to see themselves, if not their family prosper. Him, the god of fertility. This was perfect, he would get the authority he deserves - after all, love is a battleground. | 2021-01-11T08:05:49 | 2021-01-11T06:55:59 | 216 | 91 |
[WP] A physically weak orc is banished from his clan. Hopping for a clean death, he makes his way to the local human town. Instead they take him in, and show him what it's like to live in a society where physical strength isn't the only quality that matters. | The orc trudged forward through the snow, tired and weak from the journey, but he did not care; after all, he didn't need to be at his peak performance for what he wished for, what he was walking towards.
Death.
A curious eye would likely notice a few things about the orc that did not fit the usual muster; he was thin for an orc, lacked the pronounced fangs in his underbite and the braid his hair was tied into - a mark of a warrior in orc society - was short and badly kept. A more astute observer would then be able to deduce his mission, though they wouldn't need to wonder for long as the orc has finally reached his destination - a town filled with the hustle and bustle characteristic of human civilization.
He walked slowly towards the front gate, knowing full well the guardsmen, capable warriors clad in steel, would respond to his mere presence with clear prejudice.
Well, *most* of them.
"Halt! Who goes there?" one of the guardsmen yelled; or rather, as even the orc was able to tell, a guards*woman*.
"Gorr. Me ork. You human. Me fight you," the orc grunted towards her. Both she and her fellow guardsman prepared their halberds, but did not attack; something was not right.
"Where's the rest of your raiding party, Gorr?" the guardswoman inquired.
"Gorr alone. Me fight now," he said and tried putting his hands up in a fighting stance, but the exhaustion proved too much for him and he only managed to lift them halfway.
"So you're alone, *clearly* exhausted and you want to fight? There's no way you'd win," she remarked calmly.
"Yes. Gorr fight. Gorr die. Clean death."
She frowned at the idea. "You... want to die?"
The orc remained silent for a moment. "Yes," he said. "Gorr weak. Tribe hate Gorr. Send Gorr away. Gorr fight human, die good death."
The guardswoman looked at her equally confused comrade and made a crucial decision. Relaxing her posture somewhat, she walked towards Gorr who braced himself for her blade, only... she did something *unthinkable*.
She handed him a piece of *cheese*. He stared at her, confused.
"I'm a *guard*, Gorr, not an executioner. I keep the peace."
"Peace?" Gorr said, still standing a good distance from her, still ready to die at her hands.
"You don't know peace?" she asked. He shook his head.
She looked back at her fellow guard and shrugged her shoulders. He merely shrugged back. Orcs were known for their violent traditions and warlike tendencies. This was not an ambush or espionage; such were not the orc ways. This was not adding up, meaning there was only one plausible explanation - he was telling the truth. Still... he was clearly someone in need. And her job was to help those in need.
She again offered the cheese to him; this time, Gorr's hunger took over and he carefully took it before wolfing it down with the gusto of someone who's not eaten for days. The woman couldn't help but smile and started walking back towards the gate, beckoning him.
"Come. It's freezing. You should get warmed up," she said.
It became clear to Gorr that he would not receive a clean death here. He could try to walk to the next town to die a good death there, only he'd never make the journey - and there is no honour in dying of cold and hunger somewhere in the forests. Perhaps he could... warm himself by the human fire and then depart again. Go find a good death. A warrior's death.
Or something else would happen, something that neither Gorr nor the guards of the city would expect. That Gorr would become fascinated by human civilization. The intricately engineered houses, the exchange of goods via a universal currency, the expert craftsmanship of their smiths and artists, but most of all... the fact that physical strength was not all.
When it became clear that Gorr was neither a threat nor the usual savage invader, the rest of the human society warmed up to him shockingly fast, enamoured by the tales of his tribe's exploits and a unique insight into orcish society. It quickly became clear that contrary to what most thought, orcs weren't *stupid* \- they were *uneducated*. Their society's complete emphasis on physical strength left them disinterested in learning and quickly gave them the reputation of barely thinking brutes.
And with that, Gorr stayed.
It would only be years later that his past would catch up with him when an orc raiding party arrived in the middle of the day at the gates of the city; the gates that were very tightly shut thanks to an early warning system from a nearby watchtower. When the chief of the raid, Marrg, stepped forward and demanded to speak with the chief of the town to make demands, it came as an utter shock when a certain guardswoman faced him from the top of the wall... accompanied by Gorr.
"Gorr?" the chief exhaled, completely taken aback.
"Yes. Me Gorr. You chief Marrg," he replied. The chief frowned. The snivelling coward made friends with the pinkskins. No matter; either the humans would pay him tribute or he would die alongside them.
"We come for treasure. You give chief gold, food-" the chief started barking his demands but was interrupted.
"No," Gorr said.
"W- what? No?" the chief said; there was surprisingly little aggression in his question due to the overwhelming shock of being interrupted by such a weakling.
"We no give gold or food."
"Then you die!" the chief yelled.
"You no break wall. We have bows, big big bows," Gorr remarked. This prompted the chief to inspect the walls closer where he found something he'd never seen outside of the largest of capital cities, cities no orc would dare attack.
Ballistae.
"You... where you get big big bows?" the chief asked.
"Gorr make big bow."
It was somewhat regrettable, if charming, that Gorr never quite got past his rudimentary way of speaking; it was simply too engrained in his head for him to learn otherwise. What he did learn, however, were many other human things he would never even dream of in his former home.
Like engineering. And Gorr, despite his limited speaking faculties, was an *excellent*, if not downright prodigious, engineer.
The chief remained silent, stunned.
"You go away now. Gorr stay. Gorr weak body. Chief weak head," Gorr said and departed the wall. The chief was furious to be insulted like this... but had no choice. The walls were tall and thick and the ballistae would rip his party to shreds before they could bring any ladders close. Enraged but defeated, he left.
"You alright, Gorr?" the guardswoman said when she joined Gorr on his walk down the stairs. He... smiled. He rarely smiled, being of a somewhat stoic nature.
"Yes. Gorr happy. Gorr strong; head strong. Chief see."
He stopped walking and faced her properly; she saw a hint of a tear in his eye.
"Thank you," he said with a warm smile. | You can never get used to the sound of cracked bones. I stare blankly at the sky as they beat me, wondering why it always has to be me. I dont feel much, almost as though its happening to someone else until I feel my arm break as it receives another kick from Ski'ez from down the street. He was the son of a cook - trying to show that he can be so much more than his father. I, the son of an elite warrior, am probably the worst fighter in the village and an easy target for them to show their strength. They spit on me as they finish and give me one last kick to the ribs to make sure I know not to retaliated, but I don't feel it. I only see the cloud as they drift by. Emotionless. Serene. My fathers voice brings me back though. I hear him talking softly to himself as he approaches. I try to smile and say, "you should've seen the other guy" as I look over; Not even trying to get up.
The pain in his eyes hurt more than any beating I could ever receive and I knew something awful was coming. He spoke softly, letting little emotion escape. "Son, you know I cant interfere in your fights as it is a right of passage in our clan. I love you, but strength is everything to us. It defines us. I may love you, but no one else in this clan ever will. If it wasn't for my strength, you would've already been killed in *Chak'tor."* he spoke as his hand gripped his hilt until the green in his hands flushed away. "You need to leave. Tonight. You do not belong with us and a banishment is better than facing the ritual."
I knew what he said was right. I couldn't fight any other orc's in the village and would die. Probably terribly. "Alright, ill leave the village clan immediately." The pain flared as I hobbled to my feet. One arm hung loosely as it appeared to be both broken and out of socket. After a few seconds I was able to stand without shaking and I smiled at my father. I knew he didn't hate me. He would've protected me until his death if he could. The patience for his protection must have run out and this was his way of helping me. I knew it would come and the smile would have to be my only reply.
My father looked away, readying himself to leave. He grunted before saying, "You cant take anything with you, you know the rules. I did happened to lose my knife though. If you find it, take care of it." He walked away after that. He never did look back.
It took nearly an hour to reach the woods in my state, but hesitation was not a luxury I was afforded. I would need to go far into the forest and provide for myself where I would not come across my clan. The forest was pleasant and the forest was beautifully green this time of year. The birds sang songs of love and folly as I walked until I came unto a clearing. If it wasn't for the mind numbing pain it would have been a wonderful walk. The clearing was lush with small flowers and a single stump stood steadfast in the middle. A stump with a large ceremonial knife sticking out of it. The knife was red and fierce as it curved into a fierce point. The knife I immediately recognized as my fathers favorite knife - A knife that he never went anywhere without. I took it and put it into my waistband quickly feeling as though I was being watched. It would have to keep me company for those that could not.
The pain lessened the more I walked and time that passed, but the arm was becoming a problem. I put my shoulder against a tree and pressed hard, cracking it back into place. "one problem solved" I thought to myself. Injuries were a common occurrence in the clan and I had a lot of... personal practice. The break was difficult to treat though without assistance from the shamans. No bones protruded from the arm, but I knew the break was bad. I used my father's knife and cut some nearby branches from a tree with my good arm. With the cloth from my shirt I bandaged the sticks to my arm, keeping it straight as I attempted to set the arm bones correctly. Pain flared up from my arm as I pushed them into place. The world faded as the pain suddenly became unbearable.
\~\~\~
I awoke to a smell of honey and water. I found I was laying in a bed both comfortable and confining as my non-broken arm was tied to the bed. My broken arm had been wrapped with clean cloth and properly set. Someone helped me I thought quickly. Someone also tied me to a bed though, I thought a moment later, looking at the ropes holding my arm before looking around the bare, wooden room. I sat up and quickly pulled hard on the bedrail, trying to pull it free. While I was pulling as hard as I could an old lady in a long green robe opened the door with a tray of tea and oddly-shaped breads. Our eyes locked. I panicked. I pulled harder. She smiled as she watched me attempt to free myself in vain and sat down at a table nearby.
"If your quite through, I'd like to have a word with you." she said calmly as she poured a glass of tea. "I've never seen an orc try to mend their own arm, much less pass out while doing it. Usually it takes 5 men to take down an orc." I sat down, giving up on freeing myself. "You seem to be weak for an orc. Most of them would've ripped that off and tried to bludgeon me with it." she said pointing at the bedrail. I looked at the bedrail and tried to think of a way out of this. Anything that would help me. Anything.
"Quite smart too. I see your analyzing your situation and looking for tools. Can you speak?" she stated while taking another sip of tea. I didn't find anything to use. I did what I always do. I gave up. "Yeah. I can speak. Human tongue and orc. The captured taught me" The woman's grin widened so far it twisted her face. "Good. Good. and you like medicine?" I didn't know how to respond at first. I was always curious about what the shamans did, but was never allowed nearby. "Yes" I answered honestly. "Do I have to fight a shaman? or going to a fight pit and tend my own wounds?"
She took a sip of tea and looked me directly in my eyes. "No my dear. Your going to become a doctor! My apprentice!" I didn't know what to say. Well, almost nothing. "Whats a doctor? | 2022-09-03T12:28:37 | 2022-09-03T11:50:01 | 2,298 | 225 |
[WP] You are a fairy - and the king has not invited you to his child's christening. Fairy law now demands you to crash the party and curse the child. While the king definitely needs a lesson, you don't want the child to suffer over their parents' neglect | Well well well the fey spirit thought to itself. This was a gross violation of norms. She mulled it over on her throne. It would be that blasted law, as a marquess, she couldn't change it either. If she abandoned it it would be the end of her reign. Yet still, it would be unfair.
She mulled it over again. The law required her to curse the child, yet the boy had done nothing wrong. It was practically a newborn. But still, the parents had to be punished. There! If the child were cursed to bring down something the king cared about. She whistled for her carriage pulled by feathered theropods and rode to the castle.
There, she climbed onto the cieling, hanging upon the rafters that supported the beautiful vaulting over the room where the ceremony took place. There was a stage and they proclaimed the child's name: Waldemar.
At that point, the fey marquess lllept down and landed on the stage and said,
"Who forgot to invite me? Anyhow, unfortunately for you this means I have to curse this little one"
The crowd gasped,
"I know, it's unfair, this little one hasn't done anything wrong. Take your problems up with the queen of the fey. I don't make the rules. Anyway."
Now it was time to deliver the actual curse,
"Before Waldemar begins his reign, he will lead many armies to defeat. This will nearly cause the kingdom to come to ruin—mind you—It will come to ruin"
The king interupted, "Why must you do this?"
"I'm not finished" the marquess replied, offended, "However, once Waldemar takes the throne, he will usher in a new golden age of this land and be known as Waldemar the redeamer. His earlier failures will be completely overshadowed, and the failures will in the end be attributed to our king here."
The marquess smiled at the king whose jaw had just dropped with the spead of a bullet train, and then strutted out. | I curse the child to become an apex predator of a magical creature, as appropriate to his situation, and possessing his own terrifying human intelligence when threatened, to return to human form when he next sleeps, unless he likes the form
To find an have a harem of 12 men he finds beautiful, loves, who love him and get along well with each other, that they shall Mary, and have 4 wonderful adopted children to raise, after his parents death.
That he shall find himself able to become great , though not permanently the best, in any skill he wishes to study. However, in the night, he shall visit the dreams of every person in his domain, and effectively teach them, to be as good as he is at the skill, if only for a month
And, that when he comes of age to take over the family, any who willingly stand in his way to take over, or, attempt to force others to take his place and be crowned king , or contest his reign for his first 5 years, shall perish, having there plans come to naught.
( Now, his parents can never show him off at fancy functions, but, he shall never be threatened. He shall find love and have his lust fully slacked in life, but, his parents bloodline will end, and, they shall never meet there grandchildren. He will not bring great prestige for a talent, as, all in the kingdom have that talent, however, the people will view him as a giver of knowledge and prosperity, and, he will still find himself satisfyingly good with what he studies. And, finally; he may not be put away, and, shall be known publicly as king, with no threat to him, nor questions of his legitimacy. : ) )
....
: ) | 2022-06-23T21:26:32 | 2022-06-23T15:34:21 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] "Sudden onset spiky colorful hair can only mean one thing. Your child has... protagonitis. You have mere days to live. I am sorry." "Uh, did you mean THEY have mere days to live?" "No." | Well. Crap.
 
I had been a weeb in my younger years, enough that I was familiar with what was happening. Spiky, colorful, gravity-defying hair that could block bullets. My little boy was about to grow up fast, and one way or another, I was going to be his catalyst. The Fates had spoken, and denial would just give them a free hand. So, rather than live out my last few days in fear, I dropped him off at school with a medical note for his hair. Then I hurried home and started researching.
 
My first stop for information was of course TvTropes. A quick read of [Deceased Parents Are the Best](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeceasedParentsAreTheBest) confirmed my guess. I had been a wonderful single dad up till now. That made me the ideal candidate for a [Death by Origin Story](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeathByOriginStory). Unless, of course... I could subvert Fate to my designs (survival, damnit!). The obvious, easy route would be to [become the bad guy.](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeathIsCheap) But to do so in a short period would require me to do the unthinkable - [abuse my little one.](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AbusiveParents) Over my dead body. Literally.
 
Perhaps I could settle for just [getting maimed?](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ScarsAreForever) Not my first choice, but at least I could stick around in the [wise ol' mentor](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MentorArchetype) role to see Jason grow up.
 
It was at this point that the Fates, either taking pity on me or anxious not to have me pervert the river of time TOO much, threw me a bone. An old friend of mine dropped by.
 
"Yamasaki-san! How many years has it been!? You honour me with this visit, my friend. Please, come in."
 
"Arigato, Robert-san. I apologise for my unannounced visit, but I had my reasons. Is this a good time?"
 
"As good a time as there will be."
 
Yamasaki glanced at me when I uttered my cryptic reply, but forebore to comment on it. I ushered him to my living room and got us a couple of beers. "American only, I'm afraid. I would have picked up some Asahi had I known, but, well..."
 
"Nonsense Robert, your hospitality is impeccable as ever." Yamasaki waved my apology away. "But tell me, how is Jason? Well, I hope?"
 
"Growing like a weed. Though there's a long story there that we can get into later. What about, uh, Onishi?"
 
"He is well, physically. Mentally - that is why I am here."
 
[And he told me a story. How he needed to break his son out of his rut, and what he had done.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/n9sv0o/wp_sudden_onset_spiky_colorful_hair_can_only_mean/gxpsezf/) "So now you understand. I had to leave without making any preparations that might be traced. A flight two states away and many bus and taxi rides have brought me to your door. It is my hope that I might impose upon our friendship for a while."
 
When he was done, I stared at him in awe. "Yamayama! That's it! The answer to both our troubles!" As he winced to hear his name mutilated, I explained Jason's issue. A few beers later, and we were in agreement. I quickly left with nothing but a picture of Onishi and a promise that Yamasaki would watch over Jason. And a hankering for some fresh, authentic sushi. | It started with the old people.
Thousands of them, innocently weaving their way in my life, giving sage advice and trying to teach me their ways. Many pacifistic, but a handful promoted vengeance as solution to the bullying.
Although perhaps it started with the bullying. No matter now; technically it started with a birth several generations ago, but you wouldn’t want to hear all that. So it started with the old people, and that’s the end of it.
They were all very wise, of course, and each and every one of them was convinced I was special.
I always laughed it off, of course. How could I be anything special? But then it turned out my great-grandmother hid her magic from the world and my uncle wasn’t dead but a magician, and his greatest trick was making people disappear. Returning them... wasn’t his forte. You can imagine the complaints.
And *then*... the Hair Incident. At first, everyone was convinced I had done it myself, in secret, which would, as I pointed out, be rather pointless, as secrets go. Then everyone thought I was being haunted again, as my dreams had returned with the hair, dreams where I did the most wonderful things, visions someone was showing me, of who I *could* be, perhaps?
But Grandma convinced us to go to a special institute to get it checked ‘just in case’.
And there the diagnosis came. Protagonitis. It sounded made-up, like school-itis or something. I hoped the Latin name was a bit more impressive. Of course we got a second opinion, as the first doctor was unwilling to tell us exactly what it was, only saying I might be ‘a Weirdness Magnet and wouldn’t be able to enjoy my holidays anymore. The second was a bit more direct; after one look at me he said ‘Yep, it’s definitely protagonitis. Can’t be anything else. I trust your previous doctor explained the consequences?’
My mom explained timidly that the previous doctor had explained very little.
‘Well,’ he said, and he seemed a bit more lively now, a odd mix of cheered up and grave. ‘You know the story of that Greek hero with the prophecy that he’d either live a short and famous life, or a long and boring one?’ My mother nodded. I began to perk up. Maybe I’d get the same choice? ‘Your child won’t have that choice, I am afraid. He *will* have a famous life, whether he wants it or not.’ Mom’s shoulders sagged. I looked from her to the doctor in confusion. A famous life didn’t sound so bad. The doctor continued, gathering some pamphlets. From what I saw they had a lot to do with death, impending death and seeing no way out, though there were a handful like ‘So your child is a protagonist, what now?’ and ‘What to expect when you have protagonitis?’, ‘The six phases of protagonitis’ and so on. ‘You have mere days to live,’ he said, suddenly gently. ‘I understand this must be a big shock. If you had come to us sooner, we might’ve been able to stop this. Sudden onset spiky hair is the terminal phase: there is no way back from there.’ My mom began to cry in big, heaving sobs. ‘My child is gonna die in mere days?!’
The doctor coughed delicately. ‘I am afraid you misunderstood me ma’am.’
‘Well, wh-what do you mean?!’
‘I meant YOU have mere days to live.’
After a long silence he added; ‘There are very good talk groups, if you’d like those services. And of course we’ll all help you with the necessary... arrangements. We’re quite experienced, though it’s a relatively rare hereditary...’ he glanced at me and continued, rather lamely ‘...thing. Say, he doesn’t have any brothers or sisters, does he?’ | 2021-05-11T09:18:38 | 2021-05-11T08:31:45 | 22 | 13 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | The sigil remained dull, black and inactive. Even through the shoving, the pushing, the punching and name calling - it didn’t light up even once. Maybe it wasn’t the best to get used to this type of treatment, but Dalton refused to use his powers on anyone. While his powers were not inherently destructive, they were hard to control, and he didn’t want to hurt anyone.
So why wouldn’t they listen?
Was it so bad that he didn’t want to show off the powers he barely knew how to use, that he didn’t want to hurt anyone as collateral in a bit of show and tell? His head throbbed from the previous punch, the group of teenagers surrounding him in a complete circle. Everywhere his eyes looked, they landed on some color, some blur, something emanating from each and every one of the bullies. Fire, electricity, light and even darkness from one. They surrounded him, their powers all flared for show, but they didn’t really use them in any way besides intimidation. No, they preferred to hurt people themselves. This time though, there was something off about them. They were pushing harder than normal, harassing and assaulting with more... effort. Perhaps something had made them mad that day.
Another punch, and Dalton could practically feel the bruise growing, his ears ringing slightly. His chest constricted as they threw another, but this time, he felt a burn from where the punch had landed. He felt his muscles twitch from the shock, and it was starting to get a little darker, though, not because of them. He was losing consciousness. His breaths became panicked, and Dalton pleaded for them to stop, that they were going too far this time.
They didn’t listen. They never did. Before anyone could do anything else, the circle lit up, shining with a rainbow of different colors. In front of Dalton, a circle appeared, black and colorless. The bullies stared curiously, cautiously looking at it. The circle turned blue, as did Dalton’s sigil, and a geyser of sea water spewed from within the circle, easily carrying away one of the bullies, far into the distance. Dalton grasped his arm, where his sigil laid, glowing through his hand. The bullies backed off in fear, as more circles appeared around Dalton. They did not turn just blue, but green, yellow and red, a multitude of colors from which different elements spewed. A gust of wind from one, a plume of flames from another, a landslide of mud and even pure insects from some. The “battlefield” quickly became chaotic and messy, the bullies either running off or being quickly incapacitated by Dalton’s rings.
If one were to look close, they would notice that Dalton’s rings were not random circles that produced various things, but portals to different parts of the world. One linked to the sea floor, another in the middle of a raging wildfire, underneath a landslide, in the middle of a tornado: and they all came barreling through one small opening. A multitude of concentrated forces from mother nature herself, that would devastate anyone who challenged their wielder. Dalton’s sigil dulled, the glowing slowly fading away, and the portals slowly closing with them. This time, Dalton had managed to keep them small, keep them “mild” and relatively non-lethal... but would he be able to next time? He let himself fall over, ignoring the pain in his tailbone that came from sitting in such a manner. | My head rebounds off worn red brick after Jackson threw me into the outside wall of the teacher's office. His cronies hold my arms to the wall as Jackson puts his sigil to use, cutting my shirt to ribbons with swipes of his fingers to reveal my sigil, his careless cruelty leaves many shallow cuts on me by the time my shirt is in tatters on the path below.
"Hey, Zero! Does your mum know your sigil's a reflection of you as a person?!" said Jackson mockingly. He and his friends laugh. I remain silent.
He does not take kindly to this. "Oi, Zero!" he bellows as he slashes me across my chest where my sigil lies. His cronies stifle a wince, but keep their grip firm. My continued silence toward his jabs was the tipping point, as he then raises his hand and slowly draws his outstretched index finger toward my eye.
"I'm gonna carve another circle into ya, Zero. Maybe then you'll realise just how useless you are and will fuck off back to your mum where you belong!" His friends share a nervous glance.
With concerted effort, I stare down his finger as it draws closer, seeing my reflection in his fingertip as it morphs into a blade. One more moment before contact. Now.
His finger sinks into my eye, or rather, it would have if my eye was there. He recoils, staring into the gaping hole in my head and seeing red brick where my eye should be. Before any of them have time to react, my arms disappear into thin air and I dash out into the nearby courtyard, adjusting my running technique to accommodate a lack of arms and staying extra cautious thanks to a current lack of depth perception. Defecits that are quickly remedied as my missing body parts pop back into existence.
Jackson and his cronies give chase, and it's made clear very quickly who among us are physically superior, as they shortly close the gap, shoving a number of other kids out of the way as they went. Jackson swipes at my back as I leap down a short flight of stairs to a courtyard for the kids in lower grades, his fingertips glinting in the afternoon sun. In the split second his blades sing through the air I occupy, my midsection disappears from view, reappearing in time for me to land firmly on the astroturf just behind a kid in Grade 1.
As fast as he is, Jackson's stamina isn't enough to keep up the chase; turns out running from bullies on a near daily basis is good cardio. I continue running until I'm confident I've gotten away, and I collapse in a seat in the reception hall.
A circle is a symbol for many things. It's a symbol of togetherness when made of people, it's a symbol of oppression when made of iron. It's an infinite loop when scrutinized in a philosophy class. But on paper, and me, it's a zero. Nothing. | 2020-02-26T07:49:39 | 2020-02-26T07:22:21 | 92 | 46 |
[WP] The absolute worst opening line to a novel you can come up with.
must be coherent | Unfortunately, I think all of our efforts are drowned by that black hole of horror, *My Immortal:*
>Hi my name is Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that’s how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Amy Lee (AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!).
Take heart in knowing that, no matter how bad your writing may be, it will never be worse than this.
...[if, for some reason, you're interested. I take no responsibility for what you find.](http://myimmortalrehost2.webs.com/chapters122.htm) | A UPS man walked up the driveway to a suburban house to deliver a cardboard package at the doorstep, then got back into his truck to drive away, but as soon as he started up the engine his truck was hit by another, larger truck, and the UPS man died, because life is cruel. | 2014-01-14T19:35:53 | 2014-01-14T18:20:58 | 59 | 27 |
[WP] A father gets sucked into the world of his son's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive. | Snorri, Fjol and Hurg sat around their meager fire, the cold wind cutting through their fur and leathers. "Have you heard about all this nonsense with Dragons?" Fjol asked, adjusting herself and spitting into the fire.
"It's no more ridiculous than the war with the imperials," Snorri replied, running a whetstone across the blade of his great sword.
"I'll tell you what's nonsense," Hurg complained, "the fact that we're sitting out here with no food. I'm hungry!"
"Hi hungry," a voice carried out of the darkness, "I'm dad.". Hurg didn't even have time to scream as an invisible force slammed into his chest and carried him into the night. The other two bandits rose, drawing their weapons and scanning the darkness. A man stepped into the firelight, dressed in clothes of an unfamiliar make. Snorri roared, charging the stranger and swinging his sword, but the stranger turned and ran off into the night. Cursing, the bandits gave chase.
Snorri burst into a clearing, where the stranger stood waiting for him, eating a sandwich as though he didn't have a care in the world. The bandit snarled, but the stranger interrupted him.
"I have to say, I relish the fact you've mustard the strength to ketchup to me," he said, gesturing with his food as a torrent of fire escaped his lips, engulfing the bandit and setting him aflame.
Fjol dropped her bow and raised her hands. "Who are you?"
The old man smiled. "They call me Papakiin." | *"Just sit down on the chair, put on the helmet, and say what i told you to say."*
*"Alright. I'll try it if you stop bugging me about it, but it still won't change how I feel about you wasting your life away on this crap."*
He sighs and scratches his head like he always does.
*"How long is this going to take anyway? Your mom said Dinner would be ready in about an hour."*
*"Just another minute, and trust me, it's really cool. It'll be like nothing you've ever seen before."*
The download finally finishes and I put on the helmet, waiting for him to follow. I can't wait! I didn't get too far in the beta, but from what i did get to play, it was astonishing... Now he would see what he's been missing out on.
His childhood of quarter eating arcade machines was light years from what this new gear could do.
*"Alright, i think I've got it on right. Now what."* He grumbles.
*"Say it with me on the count of three okay? One. Two. Three."*
*"Link Start!"* | 2015-05-08T04:17:06 | 2015-05-08T00:56:15 | 87 | 15 |
[WP] You died and awoke in the afterlife. It's quite nice actually. The people and atmosphere are a lot nicer than you are used to and there is no stress or pressure. When you ask what good deed got you into heaven you are informed that this is hell, followed by a visit from a very concerned demon.
Edit: Wow, this got a lot more attention than I expected. | I was always kinda banking on there NOT being an afterlife. That we just cease to exist and we're worm food or whatever, which means I could do whatever I damn well please without fretting over my potential eternal reward or damnation. And that's exactly what I did for most of my life: whatever I damn well pleased, screw everyone else.
And I guess I figured, on the incredibly slim chance there *is* an afterlife, well, that's Future Me's problem, not mine — and I am constantly screwing stuff up for that bitch anyway.
Except now I *am* Future Me, having discovered upon my (in my opinion extremely untimely) death that the buck doesn't stop there. And now there's hell to pay.
Literally.
Because yeah, I always knew where my assigned seat would be in the post-mortem classroom. I have no delusions of goodness. I lied, cheated, screwed people over for my benefit, I *had fun.* And I guess it's about to catch up with me like it never quite does on Earth.
So I'm immediately plotting how I can best turn this scenario to my advantage. Presumably there'll be some torture, but maybe I can convince them to let me torture some poor unfortunate soul instead? How do demons get created anyway? They gotta start somewhere, right?
Except the torture never quite starts... I'm wondering if maybe they forgot about me. Or maybe what makes it Hell is the anticipation, waiting and thinking of all the terrible things that are about to befall you, like your imagination is worse than anything they could even do.
Because so far, things have been... well, they've been downright pleasant. Unless you call delicious food, unlimited massages, and a general warm sense of comfort and wellbeing "torture"? I certainly wouldn't. If I didn't know better, I'd call it "heaven"... I've even met several demons and they've been surprisingly helpful and accommodating. Seriously no complaints about this place so far, but that's got to be a weird thing to say about Hell, right?
Part of me wonders if they're trying to pull some "Good Place" crap on me, but I figure once that idea has been broadcast on national television, Hell can't very well try to coopt it themselves. Regardless, I loudly proclaim "you know I've seen The Good Place, right?" just in case.
A demon eventually appears, seemingly in response to my confusion about the ongoing situation. "Yes, we're aware of everything you've ever watched. We have it all available for you to re-watch on demand, as well as every other piece of entertainment in existence. Do you need set-up help or something?"
A little exasperated and a little impatient to just get on with the torture already, I figure this is as good a time as any to get some answers. "No, no, I just... Like what is the deal here? Has there been some kind of mix-up?"
Now it's the demon's turn to look confused. "What do you mean?"
"It's just that, well, I know what I was like as a person. I was, to put it kindly, an asshole. So I'm a little perplexed as to why it feels like I somehow ended up in Heaven..."
The demon smiles. "Oh, I assure you this is not Heaven. This is certainly Hell."
"Right so then why is everything so great here? Why do I feel like I'm being rewarded? I mean, not that I'm complaining, I feel like an idiot for even bringing this up... But I was led to believe I'd be punished for all the bad stuff I did in life, and trust me, there were some doozies —"
"Oh but of course!" the demon excitedly interrupts. "Big fan of your work! We could already tell how evil you'd be after that stunt you pulled at Molly's sixth birthday party — you showed promise from such a young age. I guess you wouldn't know this but would you believe she needed therapy for *years* after that? Oh, and I actually have a framed print-out of the breakup text you sent Michael after he told you he was finally leaving your best friend, Shari. That was *gold*."
I push the fond memories from my mind to concentrate on the matter at hand: "Exactly! So then why doesn't this feel like the eternal retribution that I supposedly deserve?"
The demon scoffs. "That you deserve?!" He shakes his head gently, then speaks slowly as if I'm just not getting it, which, to be fair, I'm not. "Is the Devil not evil incarnate?"
"I guess?"
"Then why in the Hell would he *punish* you for being evil? He LOVES evil! And you did a great job of it while you were alive, so why wouldn't you get a red carpet welcome for doing exactly what he most loves?"
"So I'm being rewarded? For being a selfish bitch for like pretty much my entire life?" As the idea leaves my lips, I have to admit it feels good.
He smiles, a now-you're-gettin'-it smile. "Welcome to Hell, baby." | The screen door creaked open as I stepped outside. My cousin sat on the porch in the camping chair we had got from Goodwill when we first moved in to the apartment we shared. It was early morning and I had just gotten home from a night out. I had fixed myself a sandwich and taken a shower, like I usually do before bed, and I was about to go have a smoke and tell my cousin all about my night.
He had already lit a cigarette and was staring off into the inching morning daylight, not quite seeming himself.
“Hey cuz, what’s up, how as your night?”
He ignored me.
“Did you finally hook up with that girl?”
No reply.
“Hey! You good man? What’d you take at that party?”
I waved my hand in front of his face.
He ignored me still.
Figuring he would snap out of it, I lit up a cig of my own and sat there silently. He finally looked over in my direction, without looking me in the eyes.
“Cousin, you died. You’re dead.. You were in a car accident on the way home.”
As soon as the words left his lips, I realized what was going on. Why he couldn’t see me, why I was on my second cigarette and yet still couldn’t quite taste it. It all came rushing back to me. The headlights coming towards me, the smell of burnt rubber, the asphalt against me skin. I felt like I had been punched in the face. My ears were ringing and my peripheral vision began to blur. The last sound I heard before my vision was obscured by a smokey fog, was every last dog in the neighborhood- all howling at once.
Through the fog, I could make out a figure. Broad, with slumped shoulders, but still a stance that would suggest no one-or anything-could knock him down. It was a particular mix of self-doubt and bravado, a gait that I had long forgotten, but wouldn’t fail to recognize, even if a hundred years had passed.
It was my Uncle Lewis. God damn, Uncle was right there. I stood, frozen. How could this be happening?
“Nephew! Welcome! Jeez, you were just a little guy last time I saw you! Damn, that must have been, what, a few years ago now? Just look at my handsome nephew!”
He ruffled my hair and wrapped me up in a big hug. A few years? I don’t think I saw Uncle since grade school. His memory was never the best. But, as an alcoholic with a gambling problem- what can you expect?
Despite his shortcomings, I was happy to see a familiar face.
He began walking at a quick pace, motioning me to follow him. I went along with him up the street as my vision began to clear, trying to keep up with his hurried pace. Trying to figure out where I was, I scanned every sign on the way there for a familiar word or phrase. To my dismay, they were all in what looked like gibberish.
Finally, we made our way to a bus stop littered with cigarette butts. The sky was grey and there was a light drizzle- you know, when the sky just sort of spits on you instead of properly raining?
“Late, as usual.” My Uncle said with a sigh.
Finally, a bus pulled up. Uncle told me it was my stop, and I was to get on it. Not knowing what else to do, I nodded, and when the doors swung open, stepped on.
Looking back at the stop, my uncle was gone.
In a panic, I realized I had no cash. I had no idea where I was, no cash, and the only person I knew since my cousin told me I was dead- had vanished.
Standing in the aisle, I looked at the bus driver, and before I could open my mouth to explain myself, he said with a smile-
“Joke?”
“What?” I said hoarsely.
“Tell me joke! Or are you trying to get on this bus for free?”
Nothing has made sense so far, so why shouldn’t a joke get you a bus ride?
I thought of the first one I could. Something about a chameleon having reptile dysfunction…
The driver let out a satisfied chuckle and, with the bus lurching forward, I staggered my way onto an empty seat.
Not even 30 seconds went by, and the bus halted to a stop. The driver made eye contact with me through the mirror at the front of the bus and informed me that this was my stop. | 2022-12-26T16:43:53 | 2022-12-26T16:07:27 | 60 | 21 |
[WP] You were a great hero who sacrificed yourself in order to save the world. Now whenever the world is in danger someone always finds a way to bring you back to do it again, you however just want to enjoy the after life and is tired of being brought back constantly. | I am a worn-down crutch. Ancient. Creaking. Beginning to splinter. Someday, this has to end. Everything does, after all. Gods know I've seen that. Gods know I've put an end to plenty myself.
I stare at him, at the circle he's scribed in the burnt-out floor. I can hear the distant sounds of marching boots, the unmistakable change in rhythm as military order gives way to baser impulses. I take it all in, the remains of the roadside tavern, the man's face, desperate, unbelieving, full of terrible, terrible hope.
"My- my Lady," he says, and attempts something like a bow. He is covered in soot, just like everything around him. The innkeeper, maybe? Who knows.
"No," I say. "Not anymore. Not for ages now."
A piece of the great bulwark of hope he's built up starts to crumble, I can see it behind his rough and blackened features. He's an unremarkable man, but most men are, now. I've seen so, so many. Not especially tall. A bit scrawny. Shaved head, dark skin. Light brown eyes, nothing special, but the hope in them, that still means something to me, despite all of it.
"But...you are, I mean, you must be Kasara Dovenfell," he says. He's shaking. Of course he is. "I have summoned you. It...it cost me."
It always does. And it would continue to do so. Not him personally, perhaps his price was paid, but the people he believes he's serving by bringing me back, oh yes. It would cost.
I nod toward the body, the blood-iron dagger, the eyes that no longer see. The soldier's uniform, barely armored, ill-fitting on a boy, damn near a baby. War. Fuck it. "Yes, I see that it has. Who was he to you?"
The tears cut black-diamond trails down his cheeks, all glisten and bitter pain. "My nephew. He joined, even though I begged him, told him he'd be turning on his own people, but they filled his head with...with..."
"They always do," I say. "Yes, I am Kasara Dovenfell. Or I was. No Lady, for sure. They always forget that. It's convenient. I'm a legend now, I am full of false conveniences. Except you didn't summon the legend. You summoned me."
"Please," he says. "Please, can you stop them before they reach the town? My wife...my infant daughter..."
I slowly shake my head. "No. I am just one woman. I cannot stop an army on the march like that, not one that's already caught the scent of plunder. I will do my best to save your family, as a bare courtesy. That's all you get. I'll stop the war, sure. But your town is doomed."
His face is a battlefield. Relief, horror, awe, disenchantment. I know what mine must look like. Cold. Lethal. Harder than the earthbones he placed in the summoning circle. "But...my Lady...I-I-mean...Dovenfell? I have so many loved ones in..."
The words trail off in my ears, because I am no longer listening, and because I am already on the move. I do not walk, I stream, I am a black-silver rush down the road, faster than any legs can move. I have not been mortal for a long, long time.
I find his house. I slaughter seventeen soldiers and leave them around it as a warning. They will probably avoid the place, now. They're not spoiling for any kind of fight with real risk to it. I kill a few more on my way to their general, ones who have decided to rape as well as steal. I don't kill nearly enough, but there isn't time. I wasn't lying, the town is doomed.
The general babbles excuses as I say a few short words about what his soldiers are doing. I don't care. I kill him and move on. I find the nobles from both nations who supported the war, for profit, for glory. I cut them down. I kill the Council of one nation, all but two of them. I kill the Emperor of the other, and nearly all his court. I kill every priest who crowed about the divinity of the slaughter. I kill every recruiter who took boys and dressed them up as men. More. More. I leave both nations reeling, nearly leaderless. They were ready for deaths, but not these.
They should handle this themselves. They should have learned better. But no. They want a crutch, so they seek me out. *Save us*, they say. And by that they mean, give us victory, let us preserve what we are, let us diminish *them*. But I don't care what they mean, only about the saving.
So I am their crutch. But I have begun to splinter.
​
r/Magleby for more elaborate lies. | The queue to the pearly gates spanned the length of fifteen clouds. It snaked back at least four months worth of deaths and would grow until the experienced border force returned from their strike, having received both - fair pay and increased holiday. At the helm, sat a row of new staff, floundering with paperwork and struggling to admit even one person per day.
I walked through the gate and toward the queue. It moved and hissed, growing with deep unrest, but where would the people go? I wondered if they had tried storming the gate, or whether some had strayed onto neighbouring clouds in search of some alternative entrance.
I started at the front and made my way down. The further I walked, the more desperate people became; questions turned into begging, and hope into anger. Many recognised me for the hero I was or at least seemed to be. I waved and played the part of crowd entertainer.
I was looking for someone - a man with wispy blonde hair, blue eyes, and a cleft chin. It took four clouds of walking to find the man, and when I did, I pulled him aside. We walked until out of earshot, and I asked his name.
'Jacob,' He said and glanced at the distant queue. 'I think I've lost my place.'
I shook my head. 'Forget about the queue for a moment.'
Jacob looked shocked as if he had been waiting in that very queue for weeks - which he undoubtedly had.
'Do you know who I am?'
Jacob nodded.
'How many times did I save Earth in your lifetime?'
Jacob thought for a moment and shrugged. 'Five or six.'
I smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. 'Do you think it's fair to be called upon *so* many times after my death?'
'I hadn't thought about it.'
'No,' I said. 'Most haven't. But, here we are again. Earth is calling for my help, yet again.'
'Oh,' Jacob said.
'I have a proposition for you,' I said. 'What if, I could help you skip the queue?'
Jacob glanced back with glistening eyes and said. 'That would be... be... incredible - I've been waiting for so long.'
'Well, if you do something for me, then I can get you to the *front*.'
Jacob practically bit my hand off and blurted. 'Anything.'
'You and I look alike, wouldn't you agree?'
'I suppose,' Jacob said.
'And, if you were to say, wear my costume with a blindfold you could almost *be* me?'
Jacob was about to answer, but he swallowed them instead. A strange realisation passed across his face, and the sudden eagerness seemed to drain from it. 'I-I can't save the world.'
'Woah,' I said and tightened my grip on his shoulder. 'Let's not say *"can't"*. Listen, you can either spend another couple of months shuffling along in the queue or, you could pop down to Earth for a couple of days, sort them out and whoosh right back to the front.'
Jacob looked back at the queue and then squinted in the direction the pearly gates were *supposed* to be, but he had yet to see them.
'You're easily saving months, and, the ladies love a hero,' I said and added 'Or men, depending on your preference.'
'But, you have powers. You're a hero.'
'I'll give you my powers, temporarily, of course.'
'So I will be able to fly?' Jacob said, thinking outloud.
'And be the strongest person alive, and be impervious to harm...' I rattled off.
The worry seemed to lessen from Jacob's features, but something was still wrong. 'Why don't you do it?'
'For starters, I haven't done it in hundreds of years. And for another, why would I leave paradise?'
'But, you saved us from the galactic invasion three years ago,' Jacob said.
I leant in an whispered. 'Well, someone who *looked* like me.'
Jacob looked as if I had just told him that Santa wasn't real.
I pulled back and grinned. 'Look, if you're not interested. I'll wander further down the queue and find someone else who looks like me, and is probably more eager to get to the front.' I clapped a hand on Jacob's back and started to guide him toward his old place in the queue.
It took a second for him to look into the distance, at the non-existent pearly gates, and make up his mind. 'Wait. I'll do it.'
---
/r/WrittenThought | 2019-04-15T05:56:19 | 2019-04-15T05:36:22 | 99 | 22 |
[WP] Humanity is the idiot savant of the galaxy. We're terrible at almost everything compared to every other race, but we surpass them in spades in one thing.
**DO NOT CHOOSE WARFARE**
It's a boring and overdone answer.
This is inspired by the book Year Zero, where humanity is laughably incompetent in most of our cultural endeavors, but there isn't a species alive no matter how old that is better than us at [X]. It's up to you what [X] is. Maybe we're the best cooks in the galaxy, maybe we're the best dancers, musicians, clowns, that's up to you!
**All I ask is that you do not pick warfare** | "Impossible." Lamp exclaimed to his partner. Of course, Lamp isn't his real name, being the president of the High Council of Galactic Science, and a member of the Beblebrox species, his true name had acquired so many titles and honorifics over the years due to his accomplishments that Lamp had long since forgone using the entire thing in daily conversation. His Stardate was all he truly used to identify himself anymore outside of formal matters, a clever invention of Lamp's that came about after years of research, meditation, and a brief incident involving a common galactic paper shredder.
In fact, the title "Lamp" was only acquired a few moments earlier, upon the Human's attempt to recall part of it, realized his unusual communication organ would hamper the pronunciation of the 38th syllable, and decided to go with a moniker he had somehow acquired for the President on the spot.
"What, you don't like Lamp? Oh, I get it. Some sort of alien insult. How about Lightbulb? Anglerfish?" The Human subject, referring to himself occasionally as "My", "Myself", and on one instance "Michael Smithee", rambled off two more titles, again revolving around Lamp's gamma-sensory organ. Both related to common earth objects.
"See President of High Council of Galactic Spa-er, can I stick with Lamp, President of the High Council 8675309" President Lamp's assistant, Todd, had soon caught on to the Human's nomenclature. But the true brilliance of the new title was lost on the researcher, being unfamiliar with this "Myself"'s homeworld. Up to this point, humans had shown no real interesting qualities aside from an unusual affinity for science, especially involving biology. Unusual in that they should have *died* eons ago, with the number of inedible substances on their planet, let alone have working economies, governments, businesses-every facet of a working civilization of billions occurred despite the fact the human minds seemed more adapted to tribal society in scales of tens. A mystery that led to Lamp and Todd's recent expedition.
"Lamp is appropriate Earth Homo Sapien Michael Smithee denizen of Colorodo." The President replied, before worrying about having to memorize *another* new title for himself.
"You can just call me Mike." Or for the human. Lamp sighed to himself.
"He did it again! Another title, this one based on a small sample size of his own full name."
"Since you have arrived here Eath Homo Sapi...Mike...you have abstracted enough information to develop 16 unique titles for ... Lamp, Todd, and Mike." The new titles, once memorized, were convenient. A simple matter with Lamp's advanced mental training. "How are you able to compress such information so efficiently? Classification of such caliber is *years* beyond what we can accomplish, and your cultures are not known for being...how do I put it..."
"Earth Homo Sapiens are not considered to be of the 'Maximum Intelligence' Category" Todd replied, less tactifully than Lamp would have preferred.
"You mean the nicknames?" Mike's reply baffled the President. A title for a classification of titles. The uses were astounding! At this rate, the skill of naming things could become available to even the poorest of Galactic Council society. "I dunno, everyone on Earth does it."
It could not be possible. An entire species evolved to...*name* each other? Yet, it made so much sense. By abstracting the information, this relatively unintelligent species was able to match wits with the greatest Categorizer known to the galaxy, and was able to understand basic English! Imagine that, another galaxy knew Galactic Common English. If Lamp could use these new "naming" skills, he could usher in a...Golden Age of Learning, Lamp decided he would categorize it as.
"Todd! Let us embrace our new discovery! Contact the...what did you refer to it as, Mike?"
"Alien leader guys?"
"YES! Alien Leader Guys! Let them know that I bring news of a new species, one that can solve all of our issues this day. And then prepare the Galactic Science Collection Grid Version 3 point 8 premium edition color green, and start the collection process! Oh, how I wish I had a new word for this next part, it comes up so rarely I have yet to decide on one."
Had Lamp consulted Mike on the title before this, Lamp would have learned the common Earth term for what he would soon undertake is also known to Earth Homo Sapiens as "Telemarketing". | The massive Zenthrok war dreadnaught maintained their orbit between Jupiter and Europa. Hidden in the shadow behind the moon, it would be easy to observe this new species undetected. Small, poorly built space vessels had made it as far as Jupiter, all unmanned. The Zebthrok had dismantled these vessels expecting to find advanced technologies or innovations, some clue as to why the infantile fleshy larvae of this small planet had been put under the protection of the Andromeda Triumvirate. The Zenthrok had spent generations raiding into the Magellous Clouds seeking rare and valuable super dense elements. Maybe these creatures held a key that could turn the tide in favor of the Zenthrok.
The Marthrag of Alnir, second in command of uncivilized systems under the Zenthrok fitted the last pieces of fabricated exoskeleton onto his brittle fractual crystalline body. Once the armor was in place he waved his hand over a Zenthroklit panel and the porthole opened. A vessel from the soft creatures had crashed onto this asteroid. The Zenthrok dreadnaught had used gravity beams to throw the ship off of its path and into the asteroid. As the Marthrag landed lightly onto the surface, he spotted the crash and approached it. Sliding across the surface using magnetic field generators in the exoskeleton. There was an abundance of cobalt in this asteroid. He tore what remained of the door off of its hinges and reached into the opening. He could get little more than half his arm inside, but he felt it, the warmth from the beings heat. His hand found it and he lifted it out of the vessel. Once he had it out his exoskeleton began taking diagnostics. Temperature was almost twice the body temperature of the Zenthrok. The suit appeared to contain a gas blend the creature needed. It began to move and lifted something, pointing it at the Marthrag. Without hesitation he close his hand around it and it sort of popped in its suit. Some kind of gooey liquid spattered the facial shield of its helmet and it went limp.
Nothing. They could find no reason that the Andromeda Triumvirate would consider this species worth protection. Their flesh carried a horrific stench, they were filled with uncountable tiny organisms. Overall they were disgusting. It was a bit fascinating that their bodies could produce energy from matter instead of just collecting solar radiation as most species did. Still, it explained nothing. This infuriated the Marthrag, he had eaten several of the crew of his ship in fury.
"Marthrag, we may have found something. We dismantled the entire ship. They have a collection of raw primordium. Several units of it. It appears they haven't weaponized any if it."
"Primordium? Several units?" How could this be. The species could barely navigate their own solar system. They never could have gotten far enough out in space to find the Nebulae dwelling Archwurms. "Why weren't they using it? How could they have gotten primordium from the bellies of Archwurms?"
"We... er...think they produce it" the younger Zenthrok seemed hesitant.
"What do you mean they produce it?" If they were producing it and the Andromedans could get their hands on it, this could end the war. How many plagues had been unleashed by primordium in the hands of the Andromedans. Whole planets had been lost. " How could they possibly product it, even the Kelleri and the Andromedans have been unable to synthesize primordium. It's the only thing that's saved us all these eons."
"It.. it's their waste. It comes out of them."
The Marthrag knew he had no choice. The planet and this species had to be eradicated, even if he lost his entire crew and spiraled the Zenthrok further into war. He could not allow such a devastating weapon, one that had purge life from entire systems to be harvested by the Andromedans.
The dreadnaught moved out of Europas shadow and lumbered towards the blue and green planet, prepared to annihilate it.
| 2014-07-16T13:59:04 | 2014-07-16T11:24:28 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] An undercover police officer has managed to infiltrate a particularly ruthless street gang. It begins to become apparent that every other member of this gang is an undercover operative of another agency. | "Aight, we gonna do this or what?" James mumbled out, his accent and demeanor perfect. Six months in intensive training and it was his first day: he was beyond ready.
"Yes, my brother, let's initiate this exchange of drugs," Jarfoor responded in an unusually high volume.
"Oh yes, 2.2lbs of methamphetamine, son, you will enjoy doing all this meth after you have purchased it imminently," Dafur affirmed.
*What the fuck is happening?* James thought to himself. It was all going horribly wrong: he'd never learned to use any of that language. He composed himself before responding.
"Yeah yeah whateva, go say hi to my friend and we'll party afteward, ya feel me?"
"I'm afraid we haven't much time for saying hello, James," Jarfoor blurted out, "For you see we are in he midst of a class-3 felonious transaction."
"Yo yo yo, I don't know what it is or ain't, brotha, but we gotta run on this low key ya feel?" James shot back, quickly.
"We mustn't hurry," Darfoor chimed in, "2.2 lbs of crystal methamphetamine are being purchased, after all, and it's of the utmost importance that you are prepared to receive this and to aid and abet us in selling it, James."
James' world was crashing in on itself. He'd spent countless hours watching Kevin Hart and Chris Rock standup to prepare for this. He could recite the entire film Crash by heart. He thought he was ready, but he realized now that he had failed. He hung his head low and tried to fit in.
"Yes, my friends," James began, "Indeed I am here to purchase this crystal methamphetamine. Here is the agreed-upon money that we discussed. I'm handing it to you now."
"Freeze!" Jarfoor and Dafur shouted, raising weapons, "We got you now, you piece of shit!"
James stood with his hands held high. The other two immediately began checking for weapons, but found only a police badge under his denim parka. Then insidious cackling ensued.
"Holy shit! LAPD!?" Dafur cackled.
James, his head shaking from frustration, snatched the badge back. "Who the fuck are you guys?"
"Staties, bro, staties," Jarfoor chimed in, "And let me just tell ya, you gotta work on your undercover, bro. Got better at the end but that shit didn't fool nobody." | Frankie paced back and forth. He was worried. He was hands-shaking, muttering-to-himself, about-to-cry worried. I couldn't blame him; I was a little distraught myself. I mean, he was holding a sawed-off shotgun. If his trigger finger shook any more, I'd be sporting a new chest hole. As soothingly as I could, I tried to talk him down a bit. "Put down the shotgun before you blow a hole in something, you idiot!"
Frankie gulped and took his finger off the trigger. "Sorry man, sorry, I just... I mean... oh man!"
I sighed. "Sharp-witted as always, Frankie."
I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. It wouldn't help me any, but I went over the facts. Two years ago, I started putting out feelers. Learning the street. Making some friends. All the usual. Six months after that, I was accepted into the gang. Took a test, passed with flying colors, got a buddy, started scoping out the locals. I made them money, and up the chain I went, all the way to the top. Shaking down businesses, even stopping people on the street and taking their hard-earned cash. They were bold as brass, too; from their gang colors to their heavily modified cars, they weren't afraid to show they were members. The operation was huge, a multi-million dollar business, not that it showed much. Their roots went deep, but I finally got access to their whole pay list. And that's when it all went south. I called in a raid; two minutes later, and Frankie's holding a gun while I'm leaning against the wall of a cell.
The official hat was a bandanna! My "buddy" had facial tattoos! The accountant pulled a gun on the secretary! I knew this part of town was rough, but come on! It was an honest mistake; how was I supposed to know I was working for the police?
I glared at Frankie. Seriously, though - who tattoos their badge number on their forehead? | 2017-07-24T12:34:25 | 2017-07-24T11:09:01 | 54 | 22 |
[WP] We've explored more of the lunar surface than the bottom of the ocean. NASA knows what's down there, and it trying to get us off Earth as fast as possible
Since this is getting a lot more attention than I expected, I should point out where I got my inspiration for this post from:
https://i.imgur.com/tXkZaIL.jpg
I hope this isn't too annoying, but I've been working on a piece of writing at r/worldsaway and I'd be very grateful if some of you could check it out! | It's called the Fermi Paradox, the fact that in a universe that should be teeming with intelligent life we have heard nothing from our neighbors. That where space should be a cacophony of cultures all shouting to the cosmos 'we exist' there is only dead chill silence. It should not puzzle us, every day when we see the flash of sinister movement outside our windows or hear the sudden creaking of the floor elsewhere in the house we pause and even our breathing stills. When we are afraid we go still and silent, and all of those civilizations in space are afraid. They are so tremendously, very, afraid because they REMEMBER.
We humans call our planet Earth, soil, so integral is the land to our identity it seems that nothing else exists but the oceans are larger and they came first. Before life ever awkwardly flopped its way onto soil it grew in the depths, before humankind ever used its wits to become the fiercest killers on land yet others were using theirs to become the butchers of the sea.
It is humankind that has forgotten, forgotten that the land was no prize to be claimed but rather the distant shore to flee too. That for all that we are, we fled those even more intelligent and more malicious than ourselves.
When those on land go missing humans spin tales of aliens coming to carry them away, of tests and needles. When ships go missing we do not question it, we feel no need to spin such theories because deep in our collective unconscious we know. The depths are deadly, do not venture there.
We have ventured there, of course, our sonar echoing and hulls straining to hold themselves together. Initially assumed remnants of some ancient civilization it was NASA scientists and their more modern understanding that finally put meaning to those lines and shapes as launch facilities. Those scientists that finally identified the gunships, the missiles, the bombs. The great slaughtering race the galaxy fears is not on some distant shore looking towards the heavens but rather beneath our very own waves.
The cold war was a sham to build enough bombs, the space race necessary testing and the later near collapse of the space program all a ruse to hide the construction of the generation ships. Project Victus is nearly complete, if all goes well soon the ships will rise and humankind will flee the smoldering cinder that Earth has become. We only pretend to fear the day we leave a dead world behind us. It's our greatest hope. | Johnson brushed away his popped collar, silently complaining about the burden it was. He wiped away the layer of sweat with the rolled up cuff of his sleeve. The room was a chilly 68 degrees, which was the worst part, and he still was sweating as a result of the job. He cursed to himself as he leaned forward over the monitor; he hated having to work so late. *Oh well,* he thought, *That's what I get as the head of NASA.*
His team had discovered something. Or, rather, a very long time ago, someone discovered something. Lurking, deep in the ocean depths, there was something. They needed to get off Earth.
Johnson's eyes flicked between monitors, constantly switching to try and keep track of whatever was down there. It was a difficult job, a tedious job, but one so important. The pitch-black room, his face only lit by monitors, only made it more stressful. It had to be pitch-black. Otherwise, they wouldn't see it.
Johnson sighed, and with his free hand, started controlling one of the underwater drones, looking around. So far, nothing. Then again, a normal night was like this.
Wait. Johnson sat straight up. He thought he saw something, in Camera 5, something moving. He peered intently at it, trying to see what it was. To his relief, however, it was only one of the deep sea creatures swimming around.
He turned his attention to the rest of the monitors, to be greeted with static. He gasped, he swore, he stood straight up and started calling for the military, for the other NASA members.
Before he could finish, the ground thundered. The air vibrated as the creature roared, deafening Johnson. He realized it was too late.
They'd finally surfaced. The Leviathans had woken up.
---
I feel like there's a few parts here where I could've done better, especially in setting the mood for the whole thing. Just leave any constructive criticism tho, assuming anyone reads this. | 2016-05-24T01:48:41 | 2016-05-24T00:53:39 | 1,401 | 41 |
[WP] You are a Logistics Officer during an invasion. Tell the course of the war solely from equipment requisitions. | **Operation Preemptive Angel - Zero Day(-7)**
* Ammo, standard air cav company- 100 units
* Ammo, standard marine company- 250 units
* Ammo, standard tank battalion- 30 units
* Diesel, Aviation- 250,000 gallons
* Diesel, Marine- 750,000 gallons
* MRE- 250,000 (ind) Note: 10 day supply
**Operation Preemptive Angel - Zero Day(+1)**
* Ammo, standard air cav company- 75 units
* Ammo, standard marine company- 150 units
* Ammo, standard tank battalion- 20 units
* Diesel, Aviation- 175,000 gallons
* Minesweepers- 5,000 (ind)
* Satchel charges- 10,000 (ind)
**Operation Preemptive Angel - Zero Day(+10)**
* Ammo, standard air cav company- 50 units
* Ammo, standard marine company- 100 units
* Ammo, standard tank battalion- 10 units
* Chem suits- 10,000 (ind)
* Diesel, Aviation- 75,000 gallons
* Gas masks- 10,000 (ind)
* Nerve gas antidote- 25,000 (ind)
* MRE- 250,000 (ind) Note: 20 day supply
**Operation Preemptive Angel - Zero Day(+50)**
* Ammo, standard air cav company- 75 units
* Ammo, standard marine company- 150 units
* Ammo, standard tank battalion- 15 units
* Anti-Rad pills- 100,000 (ind)
* Chem/Rad suits- 25,000 (ind)
* Decom wipes- 100,000 (ind)
* Diesel, Aviation- 175,000 gallons
* Gas masks- 25,000 (ind)
**Operation Preemptive Angel - Zero Day(+100)**
* Ammo, standard air cav company- 25 units
* Ammo, standard tank battalion- 5 units
* Diesel, Aviation- 50,000 gallons
* UAV pesticide sprayers- 300 (ind)
* VX reagent A- 5,000 gallons
* VX reagent B- 5,000 gallons
**Operation Preemptive Angel - Zero Day(+101)**
* 1 celebratory cake ("We didn't win, but they don't have a country")
* Diesel, Aviation- 250,000 gallons
* 10,000,000 mines (conventional)
* 5,000,000 mines (dirty)
* 3,000,000 mines (nerve)
* 50,000,000 leaflets ("Do Not Enter") | August 1, 1939
* **Luder Pistols** x25,000,000
* **Mauser C96** x15,000,000
* **Karabiner** 98k x20,000,000
* **Volkssturmgewehr** x18,000,000
* **MG 34** x15,000,000
* **5 cm Granatwerfer 36** x5,000,000
* **Model 24 grenade** x40,000,000
June 22, 1940
* **Mauser HSc** x25,000,000
* **Volkssturmgewehr** x15,000,000
* **Madsen machine gun** x15,000,000
* **MG 34** x10,000,000
* **5 cm Granatwerfer 36** x1,000,000
* **Wz. 35 anti-tank rifle** x5,000,000
* **Model 39 grenade** x35,000,000
December 10, 1941
* **Medical Kits** x30,000,000
* **Mauser HSc** x25,000,000
* **vz. 24** x15,000,000
* **vz. 33** x15,000,000
* **Model 24 grenade** x20,000,000
* **Model 39 grenade** x15,000,000
March 5, 1944
* **Madsen machine gun** x15,000,000
* **MG 34** x10,000,000
* **Karabiner 98k** x25,000,000
* **FG 42** x30,000,000
* **Model 39 grenade** x35,000,000
April 30, 1945
* **Walther PPK** x1 | 2016-04-10T07:46:38 | 2016-04-10T07:40:21 | 196 | 51 |
[WP] In the far future, a gladiator stadium finds its gladiators by time traveling the greatest warriors of all time into a single arena. You cannot believe you were chosen. | I was a doctor. Not a soldier. I didn't hold rifles, or use my hands for combat. I held scalpels, and used my hands to probe the deepest recesses of the human body.
The man in front of me, massive barrel chest heaving, incredible arms, built for crushing, rending, clutched a short sword.
It was explained to me when I arrived; only the greatest warriors were selected. Chosen from history by the size of their body counts. But I was a doctor. Not a warrior. No matter how many times I insisted, I was rebuffed. I was to fight. I was to kill, or I was to die.
I carefully approached the man in front of me. He did not fear me. Why would he? I was small, supple, gentle. He was a beast of a man who had slain dozens. Maybe hundreds. We knew nothing of eachother but what we saw in front of us.
He saw weakness. And he was confident in his strength.
I saw his great barrel chest, I saw the opening between the ribs. I saw his confidence falter as his breath, exploded from the tiny opening I created, piercing a lung. His sword dropped to the ground as his blood did.
His massive fist clamped around my throat and squeezed. For the briefest of moments I thought he would outlast me. But another quick jab, into the other lung, and the rest of his strength faltered. He released me and staggered backwards, falling to his knees.
His barel chest heaved violently as he struggled for air that would not stay long enough to sustain him.
His massive arms struggled to hold him upright, head hung as he gasped for breath.
I was a doctor. I knew every portion of his anatomy, and how to make the suffering linger. Or how to end it quickly. How did these people know me? How did they know that my tools, delicately, and painstakingly handcrafted were as effective as any sword, or rifle throughout history? Who can say. Perhaps years later, long after Mt death someone had found something I missed. Maybe they found my keepsakes. Maybe.
I slowly, methodically moved behind the failing warrior. This soldier from antiquity. I stood behind him as I pulled his head back, and dragged my instrument across the throat. I didn't use much force. I didn't have to. I reached into the cavity and felt the larynx; the trachea; the esophagus.
I clamped down on the stiff cartilage and pulled. I felt the weakened man struggle. I felt him limply try to claw at my arm. I felt the breaking. The tearing. I felt the tissue separate and come away in my hand. I felt the warmth lf his blood, his life oozing down my forearm. The rivulets tickled slightly. Felt sticky.
I stared out at the silenced crowd. The crowd had expected a very fast ending to this show. They had not expected this outcome, however.
Afterall, I was a doctor. Not a warrior. | I find myself in a large ring. It’s bigger than any stadium I’ve been in. I hear alien languages booming out from all directions, and cheers just as hard to understand. My legs start shaking a bit, but I feel the ground is firm. Then the voice of the announcer starts to make sense.
“Visitors, we have gathered the best champions from across time to fight for our amusement!”
The voice said more, but I stopped paying attention. I started sneezing. The crowd cheered more for some reason. And then my opponent entered the ring. It was a large, three armed alien being with sharp claws and spikes protruding menacingly from its forearms. I heard what could best be destined as a gong as the sound slammed off my eardrums, and off the walls of the stadium, and so my fight begun.
Apparently I was qualified to fight this alien, but I’m not a fighter. I know a tiny bit of boxing and can do some elbow strikes, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough to beat someone with three massive arms, especially if I cannot reach their head.
Bright lights came on, and I shut my eyes out of reflex. When I opened them, my opponent had already charged right up to me, prepared to strike. My nose began to feel numb and tingly as I prepared myself for death. Then the tingling rapidly got unbearable, and I remembered what always happens when I go into bright light. I sneeze.
This sneeze was one of my loudest. It tore violently out of my throat, and it felt like my nose was being pulled apart. I apologized to my opponent, purely out of habit. But I was surprised to see a look of horror on his face. His eyes went wide, and he stumbled backwards, stumbling on a rock and slamming to the ground. I saw his face go from a bright red to a pale gray to a rather sickly spotted green. And then he seemed to disintegrate before my eyes. The crowd went silent for a few moments, before letting out a massive cheer.
The announcer explained to the questioning crowd that I was carrying a deadly weapon in my lungs, but I was somehow immune to it’s murderous effects. He explained how anyone with regeneration abilities would be killed instantly as their body’s own systems turned against them.
Then I remembered what I had been doing before I got pulled here. The year was 2022, and I had just been told I tested positive for Covid-19, but that I’d be fine because I had already gotten it and had the vaccine. So I guess I was immune, but this alien wasn’t. I smiled, thinking at last some good had come out of 2020.
The End | 2022-07-04T08:50:35 | 2022-07-04T08:22:39 | 719 | 50 |
[WP] One evening, a portal to hell opens at the foot of your bed. A demon strides through, rips off your covers, and begins to drag you through the portal by your ankles saying “You’re going to help me settle a bet.” | "Oh for fucks sakes Azarath!! Don't you know that humans have to *sleep*!?" I scream as I'm forced to fall. This goofy looking motherfucker, with cherry red skin and rams horns as black as pitch, was my stupid goddamn cousin. Auntie May was big into witchcraft and Satanism, and boned the Lord of hell himself in order to spawn the antichrist. Sadly, that antichrist turned out to be the figurative 'black sheep' of the family. Azarath often ran away from hell to my mom's little suburb in the middle of buttfuck Connecticut to hide from his parents, since mom was always putting up wards against her sister and brother-in-law. Azarath was effectively invisible when he was in our house. Oh so rarely though, he'd see it fit to kidnap me instead of doing something sensible, like texting, calling, or even sending a goddamn raven.
"Here." Azarath said, finally setting me down in front of a table and taking a seat himself. Across from him and I was some other demon, whose horns were more like a gazelles and whose skin was some motly green, freckles with specs of black and white war paint. "Now, how do you spell Cloud Strifes love interest in Final Fantasy 7?"
My shoulders slouch, and I sigh. "T. I. F. A."
Both demons groan and throw their heads back. "You picked the dumbest human on earth to settle This!!" The other one shouted.
"My cousin is not stupid, youre the dumbass for thinking it's Aerith!! John, you know the one we mean! Just give us the answer."
"Its localized you dumbass. In the West she's Aeris, in Japan she's Aerith. It's like aski g the difference between puckman and pakman! Jesus Christ you-" both demons yelped, jumping back at the mention of 'his' name, their skin visibly burning. "Ah shit, sorry man. I keep forgetting."
"Yeah yeah, whatever Scott Pilgrim." The green demon huffed, dusting the burnt flecks from his shoulder. "So? What do *you* consider to be her real name?"
"Aerith. It's what she's called by in everything else, even in other games released in the West. Aeris has appeared only once."
"Hah!" The green demon declared, pointing a claw at my cousin.
"Fuuuuuck!!" Azarath roared into the void of hell. "Gah...shit, whatever."
"I want compensation for this Azzie." I said, kicking his cloven hooves. "I have a test tomorrow, get me an A+."
"Fiiine. Take my side next time and I'll get that guy you like to fall in love with you." He offered, lifting his hand to send me back.
"You don't touch Greg. I want him to come crawling to me all on his own." I say firmly, just as the ground opens beneath my feet. Half a second later, I fall through the ceiling and land in my bed.
My door is knocked and mom walks in. "Azzy again?" She asks.
"Yeah. Just resolving a stupid bet." I grumble.
"Well, it's almost dawn anyway. How about we go for some pancakes at denny's before we head out for our earthly duties?"
"Sounds Awesome, mom. I'll be there in a few." I yawn, stretching my arms above my head. Pancakes sounded awesome...
Just as I'm about to leave my room, donned in my stuffy Catholic school uniform, I sigh and announce into my empty room. "Do...you guys wanna go have breakfast?" I ask.
From under the bed leap two very gawky guys, with limbs too tall and gangly, with zits in similar placement to their war paint dots, and wearing video game merch from the 90's. "Awesome~! Denny's!! The taller of the pair squeaked, his voice goose honking awkwardly. "Good Morning Auntie!"
"Hello Azzy. Are You joining us today?" Mom asked, as sweet as sugar as she reached up to pat his head, the demon accepting her affection like a puppy.
"Yes, please. This is my friend Bael." He introduced his equally greasy friend with a gusto.
"Its nice to meet you, miss." Bael said politely. "I've heard a lot about you from Azarath."
"Good things I hope." Mom laughs slightly.
"Shockingly good things. I half expected you to be a saint. Saint of cookies."
"Azzy, you did share! Good for you."
Goddamnit...at this rate I'm never getting my Denny's, am I?
Edit: dellamacdonaldwriting.wordpress.com/2018/03/11/antichris/
Wrote more about the nerdy antichrist, now named AntiChris. Check out my other stuff if you want. | "W-what?" John barely managed to turn around and see the portal, before the demon rips off the covers, revealing the sun, which in turn blinded him.
As he had barely managed to recover from blindness, he still didn't believe the fact that there is a demon in his room. Then the demon suddenly starts to drag John to the portal by his ankles.
“You’re going to help me settle a bet.”
As the demon dragged, John took hold of the edge of the bed, resisting with everything he got.
"NO!" John screamed.
"Come on man, it will be super short stay," the demon said, still dragging pulling him towards the portal.
"Hell no," John screamed.
"I'm not going to take you to- oooh, I see what you did there," the demon said, as he stopped pulling for a moment. Then he started pulling again.
"Come on man, I'll give you candy," the demon was desperate.
"What the fuck man, I'm not 10 years old! There's no way I am going to go through that with a stupid bait like that!" John screamed.
"Come on, I'll make one of your wishes come true," Demon suggested.
"I'm not gonna sell my soul either!"
"Whoaaa," Demon stopped pulling from ankles. "That's so demonist, okay? We demons do not take souls, okay? Grim Reapers do that, okay?"
John looked a bit back, confused. "Grim Reapers exist? Then what the fuck you do? Pull people through the portals?"
The demon sighed and took the seat at the edge of the bed, depressed. "I've been wondering that for a while, you know? What's our purpose? We just do nothing... The bet I made is the most exciting thing happening to me in this past century," the demon whined, a single tear fell.
John finally let go of the edge and looked at the Demon. "Shit, I'm sorry man. I feel same. I also wonder what's my purpose and what I should do with my life. I'm finishing high school and I still have no idea what to do."
He slowly took a seat next to the demon. Both of them gave out a long sigh at the same time.
"Wanna go through the portal? It'll be fun, I promise."
John thought for a moment. "Fuck this, fine, let's do this!"
He stood up, took a breath and jumped through the portal. The demon came after him.
"Hell no," John screamed...
"Hell, yes."
"You liar!"
"I'm a fucking demon, what did you expect?"
"So, what's the bet about?" John asked.
"Well," the demon sighed. "I need you to become the Grim Reaper apprentice and prove him that you can do his job well..."
"W-what?"
"What the fuck, that is not a short stay!"
Demon scratched his head. "Oh."
"Oh - in my ass. What the hell man?"
"Well," the demon sighed. "half a century is a very short period for us, demons and others alike."
"H... H-Half a century?"
"Yes..."
"Dude, you're killing me. I'll be 75 when I leave here," John protested, crossing his hands.
"Oh, don't worry, 50 years is the limit. You can get out sooner and Grimmy can refund your life essence," the demon said with a smile. "You'll be fine!" then he hit with his hand strongly against John's back. John was terrified, by the fact that a big-ass burning demon hit his back.
Then an older man with a beard came towards John. He used the cane to travel around and stabilising himself. He also wore a top had. Classy.
"John Smith, I assume?" the Grim Reaper asked. "What a boring overused name. Why did you choose him, Timmy?"
The demon, known as Timmy, smiled. "Well, I went through many houses and nobody wanted to come, till he agreed to come along."
Reaper looked at John, amused. John then looked quickly at Timmy, more mad than happy. "You tried others before me?"
"Well, yes. Not many wanted to get dragged to hell."
"Shit, man. I thought I was the special chosen one," John whined, really annoyed.
"I see that you really want to be here," Grim Reaper said, a long smile on his face. John went pale. He understood that he just threw away last chance to back off.
"Well, John. You are now officially my apprentice... Let us reap, shall we?"
----
/r/ElvenWrites | 2018-03-10T09:46:44 | 2018-03-10T09:21:08 | 336 | 90 |
[WP] Turns out hell is real. This was made known once demons and devils came to Earth. However things quickly got awkward and confusing once people heard them mutter, "If Heaven won't fix this shit hole, we might as well do it ourselves." | Brandon Braithe swiped mindlessly across his phone screen, barely taking in his friend’s social media posts, sports highlights, and celebrity news, until something on the screen finally grabbed his attention.
Literally.
The screen suddenly swirled red and a slender, scaled arm reached through it to grab Brandon by the shirt.
“What the fuck?!” Brandon said. “What is this?”
“Hey kid,” a voice like gravel on sandpaper replied. “Sorry for the dramatic entrance, here. A lotta humans run when we show up, so it’s a new policy to snag you all upon first contact, just ‘til you nervous nimrods calm down.”
“We? Who is ‘we’?”
The swirling red screen faded away, revealing an honest to god demon on what appeared to be a video chat of some kind, though it wasn’t Zoom, or Skype, or any app Brandon had ever seen.
The ‘demon’ was also unlike any Brandon had ever imagined as well. Flaming red skin and demonic horns revealed its true nature, but it also sported a shaggy, unkempt beard and wore a stained white T-shirt, totally slovenly in appearance.
“Hi, hey, I’m Ke’thunarr, Junior Executive Demonic Overlord, Earth Division. You’re Brandon?”
“Y-yeah?”
“Great. You’ve been selected to assist with the demonic census of Earth due your stellar record of… blah blah blah.” The demon sighed. “I’ll level witcha. You were selected because you have absolutely nothing going on, today, or any other day, and thus have been deemed mostly likely to cooperate. Got it? Trust established? Great. I need you to go ahead and summon me into your realm of existence now, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“What? I don’t know how to summon a demon! I don’t own pentagrams, or seance candles, or even a Ouija Board!”
“Those are the tools of my demonic forefathers. Summoning is *easy* these days. Heck, you can order me off Amazon. I’ll send you a link.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup! Instant delivery. We thought we’d have to negotiate pretty hard to get on the service, but they were oddly amenable,” the demon said. “Oooookay, you should have a link in your texts now.”
Brandon glanced at his phone. “I see nothing here.”
“What? Seriously? Damn these technical issues. Wasting my valuable time and I really wanted you to use my referral link so a couple bucks got sent my way. Ugh! I tell ya what, you own an Alexa?”
“It’s an old one I bummed off a friend when they didn’t want it anymore, but yeah? Why do you—”
“Alexa!” Kel’thunarr shouted past Brandon. “Summon Kel’Thunarr!”
*“Summoning demonic being, Kel’thunarr!” Alexa replied cheerfully.*
A moment later, in a haze of cigarette smoke rather than anything intimidating, Kel’thunarr appeared in front of Brandon, hacking and wheezing. The demon was tiny, barely reaching Brandon’s knee, and his stench matched his slovenly appearance.
*“This* is Earth?” the demon muttered. “The realm ‘God himself hand created in seven days for his beloved humans’?”
“Uhhh, yup,” Brandon muttered.
The demon’s incredulity was warranted. Brandon was not exactly living his best life as a 29 year old part time DJ/influencer without any social media followers, and the state of his shoddy, 200 square foot house reflected his lowly station in society.
“What's with all the poverty? You’re one of the big man’s chosen species, yet you’re living amidst your own filth here! *Alone!* No friends in sight, no roommate, no spouse, just you wallowing in your miserable misery.”
“Okay… that’s laying it on a little thick,” Brandon said. “And I’m not *alone,* I have Sir Speedy.”
The young man gestured to a filthy fish tank sitting precariously atop his entertainment center. Kel’thunarr waddled over and tapped on the glass.
“Uhhh, there ain’t no fishies amid this fetid, cloudy stuff you call water, Brandon.”
“Aw goddamn it, another one died?!”
*“Another?* Kid, I’m a *demon* and even I’m disturbed by the tone you used to ask that question.”
“I’m trying my best, dude!”
“Yeah, really looks like it. This appears to be a high effort domicile in general,” Kel’thunarr muttered as he wiped a layer of filth off the wall. “Well, if nothing else this is a *very* promising start to my inspection. But I guess I’ll take a look outside, maybe wander around for a few hours to see if the rest of humanity is in such a sorry state.”
As he headed for the front door, Brandon snapped out of his haze. “Outside? Naw, naw, naw dude! Wait, you do *not* wanna go outside!”
Kel’thunarr ignored him. As he opened the doorm his jaw dropped to the floor. Several humans fought each other in the street over table scraps. Every political yard sign in view was for a different member of the Kardashian clan. Tire and garbage fires raged out of control. It was Hell on Earth.
“What the *Home* is this bullshit?!” the demon demanded.
Wandering over to the door, Brandon sighed. “It’s… been a rough year, man. First there was this like deadly disease spreading around, then a nanobot plague, then the killer hummingbird uprising of all freakin’ things. No one has been outta their houses in months. At first we were able to wear masks to protect ourselves from the illness and bots a bit, but then the *masks* came to life and started eating people’s faces. And the rabid hummingbirds are really the main threat now anyhow.”
“Jesus Christ!” the demon muttered. “And I do not invoke the name of my foe lightly, but *Jesus,* man! This is a total shitshow!”
“Yeah, yeah my dude. Humanity has had a rough go of things lately, can’t deny that.”
“Well then, I think I’ve seen enough.”
“Seen enough… for what exactly?”
“Ugh, humans! Always wanton’ explanations… Fine! In the way back times, eons ago and so forth, a pact was sealed that governed the relationship between Heaven and Hell. We’d battle for human souls, them trying to make you all goodie goodies while we tried to tempt you toward the fun, evil stuff, but Earth itself would be *primarily* run and overseen by God.”
“O...kay? And?”
“And, as a part of the negotiation, God had to give us an opt out clause on the whole arrangement. Basically, if he ever got lazy, bored, sick of you stupid humans or whatever, we would be allowed to void the agreement and take over. We get to come and inspect things once a decade, and *based* on my thorough inspection, it’s quite obvious that in 2020, he finally gave up on you losers. Congrats!”
“What?! What does that *mean?”*
“It means,” Kel’thunarr said as he scratched at a roll of paper with his long claws, “that Earth… is under… Damn these stickers! Impossible to peel them off the roll when you’re trying to make a perfectly timed dramatic point!”
Finally, a single sticker peeled off on the demon's finger. With a flourish, he slapped it down on a patch of empty grass.
“...new management!” the demon concluded. “‘Earth is under new management’, okay? Forget the dramatic flourish, bah! Better you understand clearly. So, you get it?”
“The *planet* is under new management?”
“Mhmm, take a look,” Kel’thunarr said, gesturing to the sticker.
Brandon squinted in the bright midday. The sticker read: *Under new management by the forces of Satan. Tell us how we’re doing. To submit feedback, send an email to Satan69 @ hellspace.net, or dial 666-666-666 on your overpriced smartphone of choice.*
“That does look pretty official,” Brandon said.
“Mhmm! You just witnessed history, kid. I’d love to tell you things were gonna improve for Earth from now on but, uhh…” The demon grinned sharpened yellow teeth. “Well, hey… look at it this way, how much worse could things get?”
\_\_\_\_
Thanks for reading. If you'd like to check out more of my writing (including several other stories starring this cantankerous little demon) feel free to check out r/Ryter | *It turns out demons have demonic solutions, who knew.*
Words blast across the city, the same enormous flat screens that used to show advertisements and Knicks games now show strange, horned freak shows. The demons we got weren’t the ruby red, fiery incarnations of torment that Hollywood had lead us to expect. Instead they have skin like the mottled corpses of sailors lost at sea, kelp hanging from their skulls like limp, slimy hair or wreathing their knobby little horns. One is up there now, shouting at us in a voice that wouldn’t be a shout if the volume on every PA system around wasn’t cranked up to eleven.
“We come to help you,” he says, “we come to rid your tormented world of its ills. We come to clean your oceans, to scrub your air, to draw out the poisons of the earth and the infested filth that you call forests.”
I don’t buy it for a single goddamn second, and I think most people don’t, but there’s precious little most folks can really do about it. Turns out most of the politicians had been in the pockets of Big Demon the whole time, and the military? Shit, the Joint Chiefs had unzipped three different suits when the Hell rose up from the watery depths. First they tossed off their human suits and uniforms, then they paraded around for a moment like the good Boeing and Lockheed stooges they were, then right when everyone was getting used to generals that looked like NASCAR drivers they threw that shit out and literally stepped out of their human skins on live TV.
That was about the end of organized resistance, as far as most people are concerned. Me though? I’m not most people. I’m James Motherfuckin’ Bond, even if my birth certificate reads Jim Brewer, and I’ve got a cross dipped in holy desiccants to prove it.
So I watch, and I listen, and I let the demon’s words roll over me from the bigscreen as he enumerates the “new” ten commandments.
*~~1. Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature.~~*
*2. Guide reproduction wisely — improving fitness and diversity.*
*3. Unite humanity with a living new language.*
*4. Rule Passion — Faith — Tradition — and all things with tempered reason.*
*5. Protect people and nations with fair laws and just courts.*
*6. Let all nations rule internally resolving external disputes in a world court.*
*7. Avoid petty laws and useless officials.*
*8. Balance personal rights with social duties.*
*9. Prize truth — beauty — love — seeking harmony with the infinite.*
*10. Be not a cancer on the earth — Leave room for nature — Leave room for nature.*
Some of them even sound good, if you throw out number one like they did. In reality, the demon only says numbers two through ten, but I’m smart, and I did my reading even before these bastards got here, I can recognize the guidestones when I see them. I pencil in the real number one whenever I hear the list, then I try to keep my head down and not look at the smokestacks they’re putting up all over the city.
I don’t keep it so far down that I miss my marks though. Not all the demons are like the joint chiefs, conveniently tearing off their disguises for us all. No, some of them, perhaps even most them, still wear their human skins, and one of those is across the square from me right now. She’s gorgeous, as still skinned demons are wont to be. She wears a sundress despite the weather’s slow descent towards Fall, and her dark hair blows silkily in the breeze, no hint of kelp at all.
But I know what she is, she isn’t the first of their kind I’ve found, and the way she’s looking at the demon on the TV screen, with love and lust and pure, unadulterated adulation…even if she weren’t demon, I might be OK with what I’m about to do.
The girl finally turns the screen, smiling a private little smile to herself, and I follow down the warren of alleys into a land where the sun hardly even shines, replaced by the technicolor madness of late 21st century New York and the all encompassing heights of buildings that block out the real world. Despite everything the demon and his guidestones say about returning to nature, I always seem to find them in the least natural places.
We’re in a dark alley deep in the Black Sun’s territory now, and my vision is narrowed down to the periwinkle blue point of her dress. She knocks on a traphouse door and a gangster answers. I sniff the air, searching for the telltale scent of sulfur, but I can only smell the cloyingly sweat perfume the girl uses to cover up her own odor. Either way though, I don’t think the man who lets her in is a demon. He looks too scared of her for that. A human collaborator then, which was the only way he could’ve possibly gotten worse than traphouse guard.
I glance down, checking my .45 and flipping the safety off. I utter a quick prayer, not even bothering to translate my desires into English, and then I’m off at a dead run.
I reach the door as the last, flicker of her dress disappears inside and I catch it in my left hand, the hand with my cross. The human guard looks shocked for a moment, and then doesn’t look like anything else ever again as my first shot rings out.
The demon turns, her face twists in confusion for a moment and she’s so beautiful I wonder if maybe this time I’m wrong. Then her lips curl back, her pointed, sharklike teeth are exposed, and she darts away faster than even I can follow, flying the stairs like a bat out of hell. Men file into the hall in her wake, five of them, ten of them, such things don’t really make a difference, save that I might to reload soon if any more show up.
No more do and then I’m upon them. I don’t need to reload.
I stand in the hallway panting, the words of the demon on the TV echoing through my head as I catch my breath, especially the first rule, the implied one, or not so implied to a man like me. I utter the same prayer and turn to the stairs, but before I can set foot on them, the whole of the building shakes, and a voice echoes through like a siren’s call.
She hasn’t escaped, she’d never meant to. The woman I chase knows who I am, and suddenly, as the slithering, slippery voices of the demon-tongue wash over me, I realize she’s known who I am the entire time. Being here is part of her plan. She’s not a portal back to Hell, she’s opening one from it.
This is a summoning.
I run. I run as fast as my legs can carry me upon those stairs. I holster my .45, it’ll be useless against her, and I raise my desiccant coated cross to my lips, kissing it. It’s sharpened down to point at the bottom, right where Jesus’ feet are, and if I can get there quickly enough I can stop her ritual, ask all the questions need, and the plant it into her chest before anyone else arrives.
I sniff the air madly, trying to narrow down the voice that’s bouncing off the walls. I kick down one door, it’s nothing. I kick down a second and a frightened family runs past me. Then I kick down a third and she’s there, standing above an altar, one bloody palm pressed against the gem in it’s surface.
She no longer wears the dress, and her human is half sloughed off, along with all her beauty.
“Stop!” I shout at her. “Back away from the altar!”
She smiles at me, and the corners of her mouth falter, drooping down after only the slightest of upward turns, and then further and further as the rest of her human disguise molts off her scaled, inhuman form.
“Too late,” she growls, as a rift like a whirlpool tears open and an arm thicker than a tree trunk punches out into the world with a wet squelch.
Too late or not, I raise my cross and I dive into the room after her.
r/TurningtoWords | 2021-04-29T19:39:22 | 2021-04-29T19:31:35 | 115 | 54 |
[WP] A god trapped in an empty plane, you can create anything you can imagine, even life. But everything you make is destroyed at the end of each day, the plane made barren once again. | At first, my creations felt hollow to me. Where is the beauty, I thought, in something that is gone so quickly? Whatever I can make, it is here, but it cannot progress on its own. I must be there to renew it when it is inevitably destroyed. To put everything back to the way it was a moment before it collapsed, just to see one more moment of it and one more ending.
It is tedium.
And yet, the stillness is far worse. I cannot move without first creating something. What is the point of moving if there’s nothing to relate that movement to? I could be sitting still, or moving as fast as light, but it would make no difference. Without some point to relate it to, movement means nothing. There’s nowhere to go.
It is not blackness here, though I wish it were. Blackness is still something. This state is somehow less than nothing. So, I must create, or be driven mad by a void which wraps me too tightly in its maw. But the one thing I cannot create is time, and time is the issue.
But here is where I try something new. Today is the day that I change this state. I cannot provide meaning for myself, and the worlds I can create are destroyed to quickly to give their inhabitants any meaning. But I have a plan. This time will be different.
I stretch my arms and begin to conduct a grand symphony, weaving energy into matter. I organize the matter rapidly, having practiced the intricate dance of stellar formation and orbital mechanics a thousand times. In an hour I’ve made all of the elements that will send my new creation. In another I’ve molded a planet to orbit a star. With the care of an artisan I’ve deftly carved the land and made it beautiful with its canyons and mountains and rivers and oceans. The sky above is dark still, but that will soon change.
I don’t have much time left. I must place life here and enact my plan.
I carefully set up the conditions as a tinkerer sets up an elaborate contraption of gears and springs. My machine is what they will call nature. They will probably never know the difference. They’ll never know the influence I had. Never know my name. That’s fine. They’ll have their own ideas. They’ll ascribe meaning in this place I’m giving them. They’ll have a chance there. They’ll have art, and science, and so much beauty. But I must act now.
The time is up. I’ve only one hour left before it’s all swept away. I make my final tweaks and take one last look at it all. I see the life that is in place on this world I made. I wish I could’ve made more for them to find. They’ll certainly wonder why they’re alone out here. They won’t know that they’re not, they can’t know it.
With creation finished, I gather my energy. What is next will require the greatest exertion of my power. It will show whether my will is as absolute as I believe it to be. I take a deep breath of the air here. My last breath. And then I push off of the ground.
Into space.
I accelerate rapidly once I’ve left the atmosphere. Within moments I’ve outpaced all of my creation. Nothing in this plane has ever moved as fast as I am moving now. I race with beams of light, ever striving to eclipse their speed. I know the rules: the speed of light is constant for all observers, regardless of how fast they move. I’ll never match their speed. But I don’t need to.
The faster I move compared to my creation, the more that time stretches out for them. I cannot create time, but I can certainly expand the time that I’ve been given. I can stretch the time I’ve given my worlds here. One hour for me. But for them, years will pass.
I can see time pass for them, watch them develop. They will never know me. But they will know many things. They will know beauty. That is enough for me. Enough to bring a rare smile to my face.
It is enough. | The nearer peaks were not capped with snow, but you could make out the old firewatch towers, and the donkey trails winding their patient ways to the peaks. The shadows under the mountains formed and lengthened as they walked, and soon the trail was painted in the shadows of the redwoods and they stopped in a clearing that just touched the path.
A long-petrified section of log lay on its side on one side of the clear circle, with two spaces worn smooth of bark, and they settled in comfortably. She laid her head on his shoulder and fit very well and, together, they watched the low sun explode the trunks of the trees in brilliant oranges and reds and, together, they listened to the wind that sounded like a busy street or a large stream as it rustled through the leaves of the forest. The chirping of birds settling in for the night was around them and unbothered by them and he thought, it was hard to be better than this. It was hard to find an easier place to be happy than this. It should have been easy.
A movement caught his eye and, across the way, he watched a small falcon bob its head in concentration. He pointed it out and could feel her smile beside him- “Kestrel,” she said. Her favorite bird; you could always see one here. He owed her that.
They watched the little bird dive and swoop in the fading light and he hugged her tighter. The day was almost gone. She wrapped herself around him tigther still and sighed, and it should have been wonderful, and he said, quietly, “Is it cruel?”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment.
“To know?” She asked.
“Yes.”
She cocked her head, the way she always did when she thought. Her hair smelled of apricots. It was light red and long and he never tired of breathing in the smell of her. But it was too much.
“I don’t know,” she said finally. “Everything ends.”
The shadow of the peak, like a creeping sea, was spreading up to their clearing. He closed his eyes as it pierced the outside of the circle.
“Will you remember me?” She asked questions without guile or accusation or malice. She just was.
His throat was choked, thick. He kept his eyes closed. Still, he could see that shadow coming.
“I remember you.”
She shifted, looked at his face, was less warm against his skin. “No- not that. Whatever it used to be. This. Me, now. Will you remember me? Darling.”
His head lowered, an inch, less, a millimeter. Before there were tears, there was nothing.
No eyes. No nerves. No nose. No more apricots. Nothing. Not like a snap, not like a wave, not like a whisper.
You couldn’t drift through nothing because there wasn’t anything to drift through, but he stayed there a long time. There wasn’t time, either, but he was there.
After long enough, he could bear to find where the ground would be. He walked, with legs now, across new dirt, made sure there was just the right silt to it. He would go barefoot, today. He would try to feel what he could. If you were feeling, it wasn’t so hard not to think.
There was the lake. The morning sun made the tops of the wavelets shimmer, and ducks quacked the air full of noise. The dirt path, winding, was set a few feet above, and from it you could see everything. There was the knobby oak at the far end, with perfect shade underneath.
There was a log, two seats worn out of the bark. | 2022-04-22T21:32:00 | 2022-04-22T20:57:03 | 142 | 27 |
[WP] You're a human trader for the intergalactic slave market. Advertise to buyers why they should buy human instead of another species. | Alright look, I'm not gonna lie to you: Humans are tricky. They're weak, slow, and for all that's holy they love to complain - but that's not why you want one of my stock.
You want *my* stock, because they're fucking clever - and they love a challenge. Analysis and problem solving, that's where the Human's shine. Each one is inherently different, so we raise them from birth to be acclimated to certain tasks. Need an engineer? Check out batch H-473. Military adviser? H-649. We can even custom rear you a batch for whatever purpose you have in mind... for a price.
What's that? Can't be that clever if they're enslaved? I suppose you have a point, they do tend to be a little naive. Here's the trick though - they don't know they're slaves! A little bit of word play here, a little false hope there - I know it's an inconvenience, but the human spirit will not be broken by force - but they're so eager to be manipulated.
Tell you what, I'll order you up a personal assistant to try out. The only thing I ask is that you play along with our charade - they get quite upset when they figure out the truth and may need to be put down. Now, a final warning - our process is sound, but occasionally one of the slaves will ask about a 'promotion' or some such nonsense. If this happens, or they become too unruly, just use the protected catchphrase to settle them down.
"This internship will look great on your resume." | Everyone, come look at these amazing watersacks! Each one of them 90% water!
Have you ever been sitting in you captain's chair and thought "I could use a drink"? Well now we have these portable, self maneuvering watersacks! Each one trained to obey and come when called. Just shout for a water sack and soon you'll be sipping on a delicious treat.
The secret behind this amazing creature is the blood, which contains tons of antioxidants and all natural flavors. Once you've had your fill of those lovely bodily fluids you can eat the skeleton for a satisfying crunchy snack.
Here we have a demonstration of the best way to get at the fluids from these amazing watersacks. First you use stab your proboscis into the creatures main artery located here on its neck. Once you've punctured this part of the body be ready as it has a habit of forcing too much fluid out at once. Beginners may want to try drinking from other places such as the leg, arms or chest.
Come on down and get yourself some all natural antioxidant filled watersacks! | 2014-11-22T09:04:18 | 2014-11-22T08:53:50 | 242 | 40 |
[WP] When they turn 14, every human gets an obscure super power with a lengthy description of it so they know what it is. But when yours arrives, it only says four words. “Don’t… | "Don't sign the form".
This did not surprise me. Since I've been 7 years old I've been receiving these messages.
"Don't chase Jimmy" was the first. It was my birthday party, and I had received a bright red, toy car. I instantly fell in love with it's shiny coat and slick design. On the card read the usual message of my parents, wishing me happy birthday, and how much they loved me. But underneath, in red marker was, "Don't chase Jimmy". I was confused, but decided the toy car was more interesting than the strange message. Then my cousin Jimmy grabbed the car with glee in his eyes, spit on my shirt and ran. I almost ran after him, then jerked back, remembering the message. At the time I didn't know why I remembered it or even decided to heed its warning. At the time, I didn't realize how much I would learn to trust this voice, that the voice knew I would have no choice but to listen. I watched as Jimmy ran across the street in the middle of the road and be struck by a large truck, the toy car's pieces scattered, no more.
The messages followed, mysteriously. I never could catch who wrote them, but I soon learned this person, or being, knew my life intimately. They knew who my crushes were, my fears, desires, and even my thoughts. More importantly, it knew my future. "Don't pursue Rebecca". My crush at the time, but I listened. A week later I learned she had secretly been a lesbian. Some messages were commands. "Talk to Mr. Latham". He was my 7th grade biology teacher and after speaking with him, I found I developed a new found love for science. Perhaps it was his encouragement, or maybe even my enthusiasm born from reaching out, but I had become an A student in he class. In fact, I was the best student. I wasn't sure what the implications of this would be for the future, but I had learned many of the warnings and commands had far reaching consequences.
The future. It seemed almost predetermined for me. I felt lucky, incredibly charmed, that I had a secret informant. I've often tried to find ways to communicate with my benefactor. I would go out in the predawn hours, visit crossroads and graveyards, whispering, "are you there? Who are you?" I would plan for potential messages, spying on birthday cards, graded tests, letters. But the mysterious informant was always ten steps ahead of me. I never spoke of this to anyone, because I was afraid it might stop. I was afraid I would never have this help again.
So when I became 14, I was expectantly very excited. This was the time when one was given their powers by the Donarius Imperium. A vast, super-computer being created in the 70's. It had solved all of humanity's problems, such as disease, food waste, and war. Now, we have healthy conflict, nutritional exposure, and human cropping. All this has been possible due to the D.I.'s gifts - powers granted to humans when they turn 14. We are then drafted into our new roles and trained. I'm not sure why I never suspected the D.I. for sending me the messages. It probably had to do with the messages always being hand-written.
But after I had been given the edible tablet that would transform me, after I had been given the report, did I finally realize who had been writing me. I don't know why it took this long to realize, but it had been obvious from the start. The writing was unmistakable, but too strange to even comprehend. The writing was my own.
​
"Don't sign the form". Within the packet was the form asking if I would like to join the Peace Division. I had always wanted to be a part of the healthy conflict sector, to do away from those who would threaten our peaceful society. But the voice had spoken, I had spoken. And they have never once, in 7 years, been wrong. I took the form and then placed it into the shredder, waiting for the consequences to follow, as they always do, like dominoes. | “Don’t use your power.”
Those four words punched me harder in the gut than Carl did at the playground yesterday. This was the one thing I’ve been looking forward to. The sole solution to all my problems, turning me from nobody into someone worthy of a little attention and a lot more respect.
Instead, there were those four mocking words.
“Don’t use your power.”
No lengthy explanations. I’ve seen the ones my parents showed me. Dad’s explained in detail about how hair loss will increase his strength, including mathematical equations that explained in detail the extent of his potential power. He still has a surprisingly full head of hair, however, which might explain why no hero agency ever came knocking.
Mom gained brief bursts of superspeed only on Tuesdays, right after hearing a clock striking twelve times, for twelve seconds. She said it made the decision to go grocery shopping or run errands far easier on Tuesdays.
Me? Nada. Zilch. Just… don’t use my powers.
“Why,” I whispered to myself, clutching the almost-blank letter in my hand. I wanted to burn it to a crisp. Throw it out the window.
I stared at my hands, clenching them into tights fists. What could happen if I just disobeyed the letter? If I just started using my powers right there and then, who was going to stop me from doing so? I’ll just pretend I was illiterate. After banging my head on the walls so many times, some self-inflicted and some not, it was almost certain that I’ve lost quite a few brain cells along the way.
I crushed the paper completely, depositing it into the waste bin before heading outside, plopping myself down on the front lawn. I looked up into the clear blue sky, watching grey clouds rolling in, latecomers to a pity party.
“No explanation,” I murmured. “Maybe it’s powerful. So powerful that even they were afraid of me releasing it.”
I closed my eyes. I recalled what my parents used to say. The powers were strange, esoteric, and specific, but they could always feel that it was coming. It was a boiling inside you, churning water desperately trying to find an escape path.
All you had to do was to let it out. It was a part of me, after all.
I looked inward. I swam, deep down, holding my breath. It was abstract, but it was the best I’ve got—if nobody else was going to tell me what to do.
So I dived. Dug. Deeper and deeper, until I felt a wailing wind buffeting me. That was undeniably power! There was so much. It frothed and bubbled doggedly, more like magma under a volcano than a quiet creek.
I grasped it. Pulled it out triumphantly, holding it up like a trophy. I’ve never held one before, and even a pretend one brought a smile to my face.
The heat continued to build. Bubble, froth, and well within me. I felt sweat dripping from every pore. I started cackling, delirium settling in.
This was power. It was as sure as the Sun. And now I knew why it ran away, sending the clouds to shield its own eyes. It was afraid! There was to be a new star, shining bright, exploding onto the scene.
I coughed and hacked. It was filling my lungs. My airways. Rushing towards my mouth, and I belched out a loud boom.
I heard something click.
There wasn’t even time for one last thought.
Then, an explosion burst forth from within, engulfing me entirely.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2022-05-08T10:12:49 | 2022-05-08T10:04:14 | 646 | 22 |
[WP] An Eldritch Moon suddenly appears in the sky, and you and billions others scream as you turn into horribly corrupted mounds of flesh... But your eyesight is better? And your back pains are gone? And apparently you’re immortal now so... Maybe things aren’t that bad... | My limbs began to shrink. As I fell to the floor I started to bloat out. Warts and pus-filled pockets sprouted out all over the bubbly mass of flesh I had just become. My eyes bulged and expanded by at least 2 feet. I screamed as I looked around and saw all the others around me morphing into grotesque mounds of flesh around me.
I tried to run but found I had no legs. I could however move different parts of my lower body to simulate some sort of crawl. Sobbing but letting out some sort of horrid moan instead I oozed myself across the ground leaving a trail of pus behind me.
This was terrible! I don't know how it happened but I wanted it to end.
I came across a bridge over a dried-up river. Other blobs of flesh were already hurling themselves off it to their deaths. The strange modified screams were blood-curdling. I wasn't the only one so horrified the only option was death. Without much thought still making the horrid sound,
I plopped myself over the edge of the bridge and fell to meet my end. My horrible, pitiful, wretched end.
There was a loud squishing sound as I hit the ground. Pus burst out all around me. For some reason, I felt no pain.
Was I paralyzed and lived somehow? Cursed to finish my days laying here until I starved out or died of dehydration?
I tentatively moved around a bit. That was strange. I felt fine. As a matter of fact, my chronic back pain didn't even hurt anymore. I looked around and saw other mounds of flesh squirming around seeming to also not have died.
Looking farther out I saw some mounds up on the bridge on their way to end it. Surprised, I realized I had never been able to see so far before. I started to laugh. It came out as a gurgle and pus oozed out.
Well, maybe things weren't as good as they could be...but at least my pain was gone. Apparently, I was immortal also, not that I was jumping to test the theory out.
What should I do...*splat*. A large blob fell right on top of me squishing me into the ground. It rolled off gurgling. Was it trying to apologize?
Well, I guessed I really was immortal. The blob that splat on me rolled off, leaving a trail of pus behind it, my pus.
Several years passed and we mounds lived pretty good lives. We did not hunger, nor grow thirsty. We just kinda rolled, bounced, crawled, and slithered around.
We started developing a new language. Different gurgles meant different things.
I also met a woman...well, I thought she was a woman. I still hadn't figured out if I could reproduce or not. Not really sure I wanted to. We just kinda pushed up against each other like really slow fleshy bumper cars.
Life was good, I wasn't lonely, I needed nothing, I felt no pain, and I couldn't die, what more did I need in life?
A happy gurgle of pleasure came out of me as me and my new lady friend bumped our bodies into each other. | # Soulmage
**The moonlight here was deadly, but we'd come prepared.** As we stepped out of the safety of the dark and ancient cave, the five of us unfurled umbrellas as black as midnight to enhance our layers of heavy, lightproof clothing.
Something that had once been grass squelched and splashed under my thick boots, and I scowled. The pale, moontouched flesh of the grass beneath me reminded me all too well of the last time I'd stepped in eldritch effluvium, and the deadly disease it had struck me and my friends with.
"Are you sure about this?" Jiaola asked, the old man hesitating before the sea of molten grass.
I shrugged. "You're welcome to stay in the cave if you want. But it's not like there are a ton of talented medics down there, and... well, you heard what Svette said. It's the only lead we've found so far on curing our cancers before they eat us from the inside out. It's our best shot."
"For the record, I still think this is a terrible idea," Lucet muttered, one hand flexing as if stretching a phantom bowstring.
"Yeah, well, the two aren't mutually exclusive. Come on. Svette said that all we had to do was find Zhytln."
*Zhytln. Zhytln. Zhytln. Zhytln.* The name echoed off thin air, bouncing strangely in the too-pale moonlight. Reflexively, the five of us twitched, facing outwards in a circle to catch any new threats.
"...Maybe we should avoid using her name," Sansen muttered.
"Agreed," Meloai said. "This place gives me the creeps."
"You don't have to come with me, if you don't want to." I glanced at my four companions. "I'm doing this because I don't have any other choice. But—"
"You think I'm going to let you run off and get eaten by some eldritch abomination?" Lucet punched me lightly on the shoulder, taking care not to disturb the layers of protective clothing I had on. "Nah. I'm with you to the end."
A chorus of agreement rose from the rest of my friends. I nodded and turned back towards the pale plains.
"Then let's get moving," I said, and forged onwards through the grass-turned-flesh.
A.N.
Considering writing a part 2; let me know if that's something you'd like to see.
This story is part of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=new), or r/bubblewriters for more. | 2022-10-23T13:23:05 | 2022-10-23T11:59:30 | 317 | 40 |
[WP] "As payment, I demand your firstborn!" the demon said. "Deal!" You said, hastily signing the contract to seal the deal. "Good luck with them, sucker!" | It was years since I signed the contract with Suriale. She was the first demon I summoned, and I noticed she grew and got older as I did. Eventually, I started teasing her, calling her Lamashtu instead of her real name. Of course, she soon made a deal to help me get quite a bit of money, considering I was in a tight spot. Of course, she wanted my firstborn, and I signed away. The deal was a slow burn. I found myself being able to pay rent, get more things, fix things, even. I got a job as a physician, soon making money on the side with carving, sculpting, and making costumes.
Of course, I met a woman. Shirley was the light of my life. We hit it off, soon discovering we both had a passion for cosplay, sculpting, and music among other things. After a while, we started dating, going on vacations. I eventually got a job as a marine biologist, having always loved the sea. Over time, we got closer, and eventually I proposed to her. She said yes, and soon we got married, eventually having our honeymoon in Hawaii, then Tahiti, and finally in Fiji. Of course, after we got home, we snuggled under the covers, grateful to be together.
"So, are you ready to collect your debt.....Lamashtu?" I said, smirking. Her eyes widened, and soon she revealed her most human-looking of her true forms, growing large, fluffy wolf ears and 7 pink, fluffy, soft tails, each three times as long as I was tall. "Do you know just how long I've been hiding this from you? Why didn't you tell me you found out while we were on our honeymoon?" I chuckled, soon kissing her on the cheek. "And spoil it? It's a honeymoon, if one of us isn't enjoying it, neither of us are." I felt her wrap her tails around me, pulling me closer. "So you outsmarted me with my appearance and how I obtain your firstborn...but that only makes me want to collect my debt even more. Only child, twins, or triplets?" Stroking her cheek, I kissed her, holding her close before I answered. "Twins. One brother, one sister. Is that fine with you?" Smiling, she soon pulled me on top of her, slipping her shirt off. "Definitely, honey. Definitely." | The stare in its eyes were palpable. As I raised the pen; secure in my grip. I saw a glistening ember formulate by the side of its lip, growing by the second and getting brighter the longer I stared. How many has it secured? What number would my spawn be in this carousel of abandonment that I have enthusiastically entertained? Eye for an eye or demon for a demon in this case where the only way out is to place its spawn back in its owners arm, for I was just an incubator after all. I knew the deal all along. I knew what I was signing into but the end, the end was very unexpected. The love part of it all was something I did not expect and for its love, I would sell not just our spawn; my firstborn, but my soul too.
As I look from the spittle to its blazing eyes I slowly ask “Will you sing for me this one last time before I take my place to the left of you”
The ball of liquid that was once growing in front of my eyes dissipates slowly as its mouth forms an insidious grin “For you my sweet one, I will sow my promise and leave you with images you will forever envision. I will sing a song that you will want to gouge your eyes out to and when over will again sing in your minds eye for eternity”
I hear it’s words and should be afraid but I’m lost in my love for it. My mind wanders from its beaming smile to its torso resting across mine. It standing above me as I look up into face, my body shivering in butterflies in anticipation to hear its voice. I snap out of the fantasy to see the demon’s face across mine so close I can hear the cries of his past and future endeavours. I sit across it and know to be forever by its side I must give up my spawn but its voice, it’s whispers in my ear means more and will always mean more… | 2022-08-31T21:06:11 | 2022-08-31T17:45:32 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] When the alien crew learned that humans will go practically insane and be willing to eat anything or anyone when left without food for too long. It led to aliens frantically trying to feed the human crewmate whenever they said they were hungry | It finally happened. After what felt like forever on the training base, we were finally aboard a real alien spaceship.
Commander Jones and I were the first two humans ever to be allowed to meet the various alien species face to face. According to their customs, we'd had to train for months in simulated environments first, including in zero gravity and artificial gravity. They'd given us some advanced tech to get used to, and had a few strange customs, like their oddly regular, and frequent, meal times.
Our first mission was to be a simple one, and mostly symbolic. They were flying us from the training base, around Aplha Centauri, and then back to Earth.
We were set up at our station in the engineering section, and after the first nervous introductions, we found that the crew were friendly, and interested in us and our culture.
We were telling our coworkers about Earth and deciding on what we were going to do first, when all Hell broke loose.
It turns out that red alert is a real thing. Every light in the department started flashing red while a klaxon sounded. Before anyone could react, the doors slammed shut and sealed, and several force fields popped into existence, trapping us in a confined area with several of the other crew.
The whole department seemed to be on the verge of panic, but the crew trapped behind the forcefield with us went straight to sheer terror, ranging from clawing at the forcefield trying to escape, to curling into a ball on the floor sobbing.
The doors opened again and what seemed like every security officer on the ship stormed in, surrounding us and training every weapon on us humans, ignoring the alien species.
I could see the forcefield and energy team from our position, and they were working furiously at their consoles. A new forcefield was created between us and several crew members, and the outer field was dropped. A medical team grabbed the crew and dragged them away before putting them on stretchers and disappearing through the door.
As soon as they were clear, half a dozen crew members carried a heavy crate up to the forcefield and retreated, while the engineering team reversed their trick, so the crate was sealed in with us. A quick glance revealed that the crate was labelled emergency rations.
I decided that this was definitely above our pay grade, so tapped the emergency implant in my right ear to open a direct communication line to the powers that be back home. An unfamiliar voice spoke directly into my ear
'What's the problem commander? You know this link is for emergencies only? You've been trained for months to handle your mission.'
'Ma'am, I honestly have no idea what's happened. We were talking about returning to Earth and what we've missed, and all I said was I'd kill for a steak.' | Hour 1
My first day on the alien ship. Not much to report. I've not yet had contact with the Host. I have been placed in what seems like an incubation pod that is lined by the collection of scratches and dots that we have come to learn symbolizes the different species that make up the alien conglomeration that we call The Federation. There is a low hum around me that is strangely soothing. I have nothing to do now but wait.
Hour 6
Still no contact. A table full of what looks like a buffet spread has materialised next to my pod. But food is really the last thing on my mind right now. Still, quite thoughtful I must say. As per my training I am waiting passively, hoping that The Federation will reach out to me soon. They can't be too pleased with being arm-twisted by the UN to allow a human to board their ship within 3 days of making contact with our species.
Hour 15
I met them! Contact has been made! The entity was almost formless, shapeless. Communication was slow and tedious and followed the strict protocols developed and set by the First Contact team. There seemed to be a lot of curiosity from the Host as to why I was chosen. My answers followed the script handed to me, designed to carefully hide the fact that I, a lowly Junior Analyst from the Norwegian Skipton Observatory for Space Weather was chosen purely for being irrelevant, expendable, and a sendipitious part of the voluntary Civilian Space Outreach Program. That this embedding activity was simply a PR campaign, designed to position The Federation in a positive light as allies. That this was all to quell the demonstrations and riots fanned by the apolocalyptic tirade of so-called religious leaders, fuelled by the xenophobic distaste for our planetary guests from a large minority of our world's population.
I was also questioned, strangely, about why I had not eaten anything. I am not sure how well I could explain that my lack of hunger was a result of the adrenaline coursing through my body at being at close contact with a fucking alien!
Overall Assessment: Positive, but weird.
Threat Assessment: Inconclusive since the Host has displayed no modicum of what we would call human emotions.
To be continued... | 2021-06-11T19:00:14 | 2021-06-11T18:46:44 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] You are every Super Hero’s worst enemy, not because you are particularly powerful, but because nothing you do is technically illegal… you’re just a huge asshole. | “For Hades’s pitchfork. You must cease your evil. Don’t you realize the harm you cause?”
“Whatever you mean? Did I break a law? Did I directly cause a harm?”
“You know what you did, you know it is wrong. Because of you the Bipedal Bat is now homeless, destitude and criminals are causing mayhem in the city.”
“Wrong? Wrong you say? Was it me, who did undergroud construction without permit? Did I endanger the already endangered bat spieces in the caves he claimed without any right to? Next you will be telling me that the seizure of military equipment he embezzled from his company was also my fault.”
“Yes, it was. How can he protect the innocent when his car was taken”
“You mean the tank? Tank that has been commissioned by, and is there fore the property of the US army? I was simply acting as any law abiding citizen should”
“Law abiding citizen? You? You had Doctor brainwave fined by FCC.”
“Of course, he was using the commercial frequencies without proper authorization. Why am I the bad guy? Don’t you realize how much companies pay and how many regulations they have to follow to use them? He was in clear violation here and FCC agreed.”
“What about….”
“i am gonna stop you right there look. You heroes are doing a great service to the society. But you must understand, that if you are given a mandate to capture lawbreakers, you yourself should follow these laws, rigt? Mr. Chernenko is too radioctive to be in a city. Incredible Screamer’s powers break acceptable noise limits in habited areas and Brazilian Biтсн breaks animal cruelty laws. Just follow the rules and there will be no problem.”
“But how are we supposed to combat crimes, when you keep sicking government employees on us all the time.”
“That is not my problem. Oh by the way, New Icarus, FAA would like to talk to you about flying above urban areas without permission from control tower. The summoning should be in the mail. See ya”
“Oh how I hate you Loophole man” | “Look your robbed from the poor and gave to the rich” he said as his stupid H glowed on his chest. Hope man was the galaxies most powerful hero and that was saying a lot. Me well I’m just a guy. “ no no no I bought that Martian egg fair and square ok. It’s in a museum so thank you tax write off” his face twisted in an unamused expression that really he’s been wearing since he landed. “ Fine but you can help the sick.” Amazing woman said. To get fair she was amazing to look at at least. Man maybe I am sick. “ I do as long as they pay their premium; insurance will pay every time.” She wanted to punch me i could feel it.
“What is wrong with you” wonder kid said trying his hardest to stay calm.
“ Look I get paid and live happily ok. I don’t break the law and I provide valuable jobs. If anything if it wasn’t for crew Klean you would be the villains. So shouldn’t you be thanking me.” I said it I didn’t want to but I just did.
The intimidator stood up. He was a martian so probably the martian egg thing made him a little angry. “ You pay the friends of villainy’s taxes”
“We’ll yeah but I also pay the tower of impeccable destruction… sorry I mean tower of good guys clean up and charity fees as well”
They all left in a huff. I mean it’s their second visit this week. One day we’ll get a hero smart enough to realize I write the laws to. It’s good to be technically not evil. | 2021-08-02T03:40:36 | 2021-08-02T01:55:44 | 1,074 | 25 |
[WP] All souls in Hell are given the same test upon arrival. If they can create a punishment worthy of being added to the Pit, they get to ascend to demonhood on the spot. You are the first to succeed in 200 years...
[deleted] | "Democracy."
The demon Adjudicator, a green-skinned multi-gutted blob with the unfortunate name of Kikmahbutte, frowned. "There is no Democracy in Hell." Using a claw to pick at one of his three nostrils, he leaned forward and gestured with a crusty chin for me to continue. "Explain yourself, soul."
I'd only been down here for a week or maybe a fortnight, you know, taking in the sights, burning in the fires, that kind of thing. It was a passing Thraxon who paused its lashing of my scorched epidermis to scratch at what I presumed was its posterior for long enough for me to ask how a soul could get a promotion. After we had a good laugh (okay, so it laughed and I suppressed the continual screams of agony), it actually gave reply. "Invent new torment. If stupendously original, a soul may join our ranks. Fail and my whips will seem like a lover's kiss in comparison to what will happen next."
I hadn't hesitated. "Well heck. Sign me up."
With a shrug of its five shoulders I'd been lifted clear of the lava and chucked through a summoned portal. The adjudicator hadn't even flinched when my face smacked the marble floor before his raised dais and its overly-cushioned chair.
Pausing only to cough some charcoal from the lungs I answered the Adjudicator and took my shot. "It's simple, really. You've got what, Feudalism? That's no torture at all. Everyone knows where one stands with that kind of system. Shit rolls downhill, no chance to climb, none of that. What you need is a system that builds up hope...and then crushes it."
The blob shifted against the chair's velvet padding. "Say more."
"You've got to get them to believe they have meaningful choices. Set up two parties, and every ten to twenty years hold elections for who is in charge of which level. In the time in between have one party pander to say those who are being tormented with starvation. Promise them they'll starve less. Have the other party pander to those being burned alive, promise them relief and some ointment. That kind of thing. Mix and match."
"And then what? Actually give them a vote?" The Adjudicator leaned back and to the side.
I ignored the cloud that was produced as a byproduct and pressed forward. "Sure! But you guys set up the parties, you guys 'nominate' the candidates, and at the same time you turn the current feudal ranks into bureaucratic appointments. Give them the real power to regulate and control things, let the elected leaders be useless figureheads. Oh sure, let them deliver on some small promises to keep it interesting but - and here's the fun part - make it so for every promise they keep, it causes something even worse to happen to the other party's followers! Within a few decades the souls who voted one way will DESPISE those who voted for the other, even while in reality nothing ever meaningfully changed. With each election half of the souls will despair as their hopes get crushed, and it will continuously increase their hatred - which I can tell you guys sip like it was nectar - and then it's set up to do it again over and over in perpetuity!"
"Interesting." With that grumble, I knew I had him.
"I've saved the best for last," I added. "At the lower levels, let souls run for the seats. Fill their egos with false power and watch them lord it over everyone else."
The demon grunted. "That sounds like reward, not punishment."
I shook my head. "Have the bureaucrats control the vote counting. Right as any jerk feels invincible, toss 'em out and demote them to the lowest pit. The worst torment is to have once tasted power and lost it, it'll drive them insane for eternity."
The Adjudicator's eyes widened and he sharply looked around before making hushing me with a claw over its lips. "Shh! Don't say such things, a fallen angel might hear!"
With a dark grin I said, "Fine, fine...but you know I'm right."
Nodding with growing appreciation, he asked one last question. "Tell me, soul - what were you in life that you would devise such exquisite torment? This is brilliant and you shall indeed be granted demonhood to join our ranks!"
Chuckling to myself, I told him. "Me? Nothing much. I was merely a campaign consultant. But wait until I tell you about lobbyists..." | The room was dark. The eerie glow of the television offered just enough light to see his face. He reclined in the hard, plastic chair as they watched from above. The arrogance that led to his sins on Earth filled the empty space. On the other side of the glass pane, the young woman was grateful for the barrier that separated her from such paltry filth.
Smoothing out her pencil skirt, she shifted slightly as she waited for the show to start. She was surrounded by men dressed in colorful suits dripping with embellishment, as if the sheer quality of the fabric wasn’t enough to demonstrate their insurmountable wealth. The slight downward curve of her mouth was the only sign of her distaste. It was one of the few things that she could carry with her into the afterlife — her hatred.
Speaking of the devil, a slender male with jet-black hair combed back slid into the seat beside her. She turned her attention back to the victim that sat on the other side of the glass. He was blissfully unaware of the torture that lay before him, young and overconfident like she had been at the start of it all.
She felt nothing for him, least of all pity. Her humanity had been ripped away long ago. His choices landed his soul in Hell, and he was destined to suffer for eternity. He earned it.
“Sarina.” A whisper scraped against her ear, cold against her pale skin. “Are you excited?”
She plastered on a smirk, her eyes trained on the damned soul below them. He crossed his arms, the cocky bastard, used to isolation from his life in prison. She smiled as she pictured eyes squeezed shut in agony, bloodstained hands clawing off their own ears.
“Of course,” she answered. Sarina kept her voice low, eyes hooded as the male demon mistakenly thought her smile was directed at him.
Licking her lips, her mind strayed to what was to come while his remained on her mouth. She asked, “How long do you think they’ll last?”
The question was left unanswered as a servant exchanged a few words with the chairman. Sarina shook her head to dislodge the dazed look from her eyes, focusing on the demon that now stood in front of the small podium. His hulking shoulders threatened to split the seams of his expensive suit, the lavish gold more akin to armor than formal wear.
“For over two-hundred years, we have searched for a new method to satisfy our sadistic lust and repay the lost souls for their crimes.” He started, drool dripping from his maw. “And today, we finally gather together to witness the finest piece of psychological torment in centuries, all thanks to our youngest and most lovely demoness, Sarina.”
She merely nodded at his extravagant praise, the bitterness resting on the tip of her tongue as sharp as a knife. He ended his spiel with a few announcements pertaining to the official appointment ceremony, and she took her opportunity to approach the glass. She rested her hand on it gently, caressing its smooth surface.
The other demons distracted themselves with empty conversation to pass the few moments until the torture began. Brushing past a few demons, she excused herself to the restroom. Sarina only spared the group one last furtive glance before slipping out the door.
The spell activated, and the quiet *click* of the lock was drowned out by the celebratory mood. Sarina strode down the corridor, the *click-clack* of her heels against the tile already fading out of earshot. She was free.
Suddenly, she paused. Sarina tilted her head, moving closer until she recognized the familiar song leaking from the intercom. Her mouth split open into a wide grin as she knew that soon their screams of agony would shake the very walls that had trapped her, begging and pleading for the stone to collapse and crush them to death.
Sarina danced to the beat as she left her prison behind, the words getting louder and louder as she sang along.
“I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world… Life in plastic, it’s fantastic..” | 2021-12-22T17:07:26 | 2021-12-22T15:45:36 | 864 | 218 |
[WP] One morning, everyone in the world wakes up with either a blue triangle or an orange circle on their hand, and a voice announces "The two teams have been selected - let the competition begin!" Things degenerate from there. | It's been about a year since the Smile Trial started. At first, no one knew what to do. These symbols just appeared on our hands, either a blue triangle, or an orange circle. Everyone recalls the first Ascendant, however. It was a homeless father. He and his wife and three young children had all been evicted from their home, right before winter really set in. Consequently, he lost his job, and his wife just broke a hip in a fall while attending her mother's funeral. Everything seemed hopeless for them, then in one last-ditch effort, the man bought a lottery ticket and won it big, real big. The outline of his circle went from being pale, to full and vibrant, shining with intense orange light. Once it reached the pinnacle of its color, it spread to the rest of his body, dissolving him as it slowly took over. The man laughed, seemingly in ecstasy as it happened.
At first, his wife mourned. But the next morning, the man reappeared. He was beaming, from ear to ear the grin reached across his face, skin aglow, and adorned in blazing white clothes. He and his family told everyone possible, went on the news about it: the goal of the competition. Turns out, after he had Ascended, he met the Maker in Nirvana. The Maker explained that It could no longer watch as humanity spiraled into depression and self destruction, so It decided to set up one more entertaining show before joining all of us with It.
The Smile Trial.
The goal is to make the other side Ascend into Nirvana before yours does, by making them happy and filling in their shape with color. The First Ascended assured us that Nirvana was completely wonderful, a feeling of satisfaction and contentment that had never been felt before. His words were much better than mine, of course. When he explained it, his smile grew even more, and was so infectious that he had everyone else breaking into smiles as well, even those who watched him on the news.
Why bother winning the trial, though? If Nirvana is so wonderful, why not just immediately seek out happiness and forget all about winning? Many did just that. In the weeks following the Explanation, millions of people Ascended. Hundreds of millions ignored the prize and went straight into Nirvana as fast as possible, only to come back shining from within, dressed in the same glaringly white garments as the First Ascendant, practically (and many times literally) singing about the glories of Nirvana and encouraging everyone to work together to achieve Ascendancy. Who cares about the prize when True Inner Peace is just the participation trophy?
The prize, though. That's what many were after. The promise.
The Boon.
The Maker promised that the last human who hadn't Ascended, who was so focused on making others happy, content, and blissful enough to Join It would be granted a Boon for their team, designated by the shape they received. The Boon would be fulfilled when all members of the winning side agreed upon what it was to be. (1/2) | The world woke as I headed home to sleep. My night of partying left me with a quarter bottle of Jameson, two cigarettes, and a lighter that only worked when you swore at it. I would have been more upset about having no money if I wasn't so tired. And so I slumped into my seat, hoping the cabbie would put this fee on the house.
The car radio turned on by itself.
"Attention, attention, all humans. Two teams have been selected -let the competition begin!" a high-pitched female voice blared.
I jolted up, not sure if the liquor was still doing a number on me.
"Attention, attention, all humans. Two teams have been selected -let the competition begin!"
The top of my hand burned. I winced. The taxi driver winced in the front seat, rotating his hand on the steering wheel toward him.
A blue triangle had been imprinted into his flesh. It shone in the light and pulsed, navy blue turning cyan.
An orange circle covered the top of my hand. It pulsed from dark orange to red.
"Attention, attention, the two teams have been selected. Kill the opposing team or be labelled an enemy of the state!" the woman said.
My heart thumped in my ears. I could attack him now and be stuck in the middle of the freeway. Or I could play it off as long as possible. I made my decision in a split second, laying back and leaving my eyes barely open.
"Hey, guy!" the taxi driver said.
I didn't budge. From the way I rested my arm, he wouldn't be able to see my orange sign unless he pulled over.
"Wake up!" he shouted. "What sign have you got?"
I pretended to stir, just a little so that I could still pull off incoherent drunkness. "Wha? What?"
"Your sign in your hand. What is it?"
I groaned and made a sloppy show of checking the back of my palm. The orange circle shone back at me, still pulsing. "It's blue," I said and then slumped back down, snoring.
The taxi driver watched me for a few moments and then snorted. "Lucky."
But I was anything but lucky. The end of the trip neared, along with the end of my lie. And after I faced off against the driver, bigger problems waited for me.
What if Mum, Dad, and Sis were blue, not orange? | 2018-01-25T17:59:17 | 2018-01-25T16:44:46 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] The four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are here. Their names are Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Laa-Laa and Po.
Edit: Thanks guys these are awesome! Please keep them coming.
Reddit Edit: Coooool. Gold and front page, what a day to be alive!
Edit some more: Wow, this really blew up. Thanks for all the submissions. Please keep going. | This world is full of sin.
Mere mortals stood before them, some with arms raised to the heavens, hoping to repent for their past sins, hoping that now they could be saved before their God.
They are wrong.
They will be punished for their sins just as those that had died before them.
A beam came out of the antennas protruding from the top of its head eviscerating all those in its path. The screams nulled by the screech of the beam of light.
The sun started beating heavier than before, every waking moment the heat growing more intense.
Father Grigori watched on from the monastery near the city where one of the giant beings stood, its figure large enough to see from hundreds of miles away. A young monk approached Father Grigori.
"Father, what will become of us? Will we be brought to heaven with Christ?"
Father Grigori stared on at the young monk.
" Go back with the others in prayer."
The young monk shuffled along, his robe slightly longer than his legs.
Father Grigori looked back onto the window outside, the screams becoming louder. The sound of shells pounding against the being, doing no harm to it.
Fighter jets flew by, preparing for their bombing run, but the amount of firepower being thrown at it was useless.
A beam of light shown upon the large being, generating energy within itself, culminating into a giant ball of light.
"PO!" As the being spoke it shook the ground with just it's voice. Father Grigori could feel the voice protrude his very soul. Just as the ball of light was growing to mass, Father Grigori hid behind the windowsill of the monastery.
There was a blinding flash, everywhere was engulfed in light and deafening sound.
Father Grigori looked back upon the city, nothing more stood besides a crater of where it once was.
Nothing but the being that stood before him.
Several other large beings approached one another, each one larger than the next.
Father Grigori took this time to bow down and pray, pray to the heavens, pray to all that was holy to forgive all of sins he had committed.
Tears streamed down Father Grigori's face.
He prayed and prayed, as the beings gathered closer and closer together.
The sun pulsing as it got closer and closer, the heat starting to burn Father Grigori's robes.
The more he prayed, the more it felt like his words were falling upon deaf ears.
His robes catching fire from the heat of the sun approaching closer and closer.
"TINKY WINKY!" The ground shook as the largest figure spoke. More tears streaming from Grigori's eyes, instantly evaporating atop his face.
"DIPSY!" The ground shook again, Father Grigori could feel the heat of the sun burning his face, his robes already ablaze.
"LAALAA!"
Father Grigori could feel his flesh burning from within. The ever evolving pain growing more and more intense.
Had no one heard his cry for help? Why would no one listen to his prayers?
"PO!"
It was because this realm has no God.
The sun finally started to engulf the Earth.
Father Grigori opened his eyes one last time, hoping to see truth in the pain.
His eyes squinted in the bright sun, and he could see the faint face of a child.
Had the pain driven him mad? Was this the face of God?
Finally the pain stopped, finally everything was none, Father Grigori and all the others ceased to exist.
All that was left was void.
As young Jeremy finished his story, he looked upon his parents, their mouths agape, sitting silently in shock.
"The End!" Jeremy said with a smile and a giggle, leaving the dinner table and going back to playing with his toys on the living room floor.
"This is the last time we let him watch PBS, holy shit." | In retrospect, nobody can remember for sure where, or how the Four Horsemen appeared. Varying tales of that night, 8th July 2016, are so dissimilar and disparate that it's a mere postulation at this stage.
Tinky Winky appeared on the North, South American continent. Dipsy in Africa. Laa-Laa in Europe. Po's horseman could teleport so represented the rest of the world. Their purpose? To foreshadow tales of misery and despair that were to befall the planet. The coming of an asteroid in 2022 that would send Earth back to the stone age, eradicating humanity. I'm sure you can imagine the hysteria that ensued.
Twinky Winky promised exaltation to the planet of Twinky for the whole of humanity. In return America would provide a sacrifice of 20 million persons.
Dipsy promised exaltation to the planet of Dipso for the whole of humanity. In return Africa would provide a sacrifice of 20 million persons.
Laa-Laa promised exaltation to the planet of Laa for the whole of humanity. In return Europe would provide a sacrifice of 20 million persons.
Po promised exaltation to the planet of FuckThePoPo for the whole of humanity. In return Rest Of World would provide a sacrifice of 20 million persons.
Wars ensued. Society spiralled out of control, into oblivion. People stopped working. Everyone became an activist and a racist overnight. Humanity had 6 years.
It is 2021. Australia, Russia, most of the world really, has been destroyed by nuclear bombs. Africa has been spared because of their poverty, but mostly because Europe and America are planning to use the Africans as pawns to escape to Dipsy.
Society, or any connotations of the word, has completely disintegrated. People have died from starvation, guerilla fanatics, government. But that's probably just a conspiracy, like my idea about the Africans.
Dipsy, Laa-Laa, Tinky-winky and Po all maintain palaces, fortresses, awaiting humanity's decision. Sipping wine and doing drugs all day; they seem to really like the drugs. Waiting for a decision, for sure, that will never come. Would you trust your country, your government, the person who made the decision to kill off 20 million of your people, even if it provided exaltation for the whole of humanity? Fuck no.
So it's 2022 and nothing has happened. It turns out the Four Horsemen were actually a super-advanced civilization from some planet called LOL and they decided to play some form of game with humanity. Some form of film, or something beyond film outside of our imagination but certainly analogous to a film of sorts. Probably in 5D or something. Something like Big Brother. Some form of reality show. Actually, exactly like that come to think of it. Earth's current population? 0.
I bet your wondering how I'm alive then? Well I'm Po. I drank all the wine, took all the drugs. Ketamine was my favourite. In fact I only went for the Ketamine. My horse loved it. You wouldn't get that sort of shit back on LOL.
I'm certainly disappointed though. The film we came here to make was scrapped at the Box Office. Shame.
| 2016-07-08T08:35:08 | 2016-07-08T07:44:26 | 92 | 16 |
[WP] You have made a large ouija board on the floor in front of the fireplace as a decoration. Your roomba has been randomly summoning demons and then sucking them up Luigi's mansion style. You have been passively watching this happen for about a week now.
[deleted] | "You sonofabitch how'd you know this would work?!"
He sounded angry, he looked angry, but I could tell Zack was impressed.
"Honestly, I didn't. I didn't even try to do this. You know how Laura's all into Halloween and creepy stuff? Found this online and put it down as a surprise. She loved it, almost moved it to the bedroom but I convinced her not to once I saw what was going on.
"Ok...but what is going on?"
"So the energy from the fire is the real key here. The boards placement is just in the right spot to catch that energy, but only when there's an antenna. Enter roomba. Every time that little guy runs over it, some demon pops out then the magnets in the roomba somehow draw it in. I havent quite figured that out yet but it's working."
Zacks eyes followed the roomba as it sucked up yet another demon. Demons we've almost died catching.
"At $500 a pop, Jesus man you'll be set for life if it keeps going."
"We'll both be set my man. It's been a week and I've already paid off my house with plenty to spare. Yours next, then we'll start saving unless you have any other debt that needs paid. I'm only worried we'll saturate the market but Dons already got another buyer lined up."
"What...what do we do now then?"
"You got a fireplace don't ya?" | I’d watched the Roomba zoomba around the house and fireplace like a machine possessed. I wasn’t sure how it was doing it, but it _wasn’t_. It might have been the all-metal internals or the circuit mesh keeping all the psi energy in circulation without rest, but the Roomba had been summoning and then vacuuming up hapless demons all day.
I patted the Roomba on its flat surface. The red light light on the Roomba blinked green for a while. The tips of my fingers which had touched the Roomba suddenly felt like red hot pokers were on them. Instinctively I put them into my mouth where it was supposed to be cooler.
Instead, my mouth caught fire too.
“Lucy!” I yelled at my wife.
“Your demons are getting into the Roomba again! Can’t you draw an executive order to your minions from being summoned by this particular board?!” | 2019-09-08T22:05:26 | 2019-09-08T19:26:18 | 1,271 | 555 |
[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry". | I look down at the young boy in confusion. In his hands, he holds a small bar of chocolate that says, 'bite size'. I have been summoned to this world so many times. I have seen every war, every famine, every disease. I have been greeted by people with such selfish tendencies. This boy, though. This boy is different. He does not want me to eradicate or burn. No. He wants to feed me.
"What are you doing, mortal?"
"I'm giving you a piece of chocolate! Chocolate is a type of food that's very sweet, and good, and-"
"I know what chocolate is. Is this your offering?"
"Offering?"
"Yes. When humans summon me, they give an offering. If I am pleased, I may just do what they ask."
"Oh, no! I don't want anything. I just thought you might be hungry. It's not much, but it's all I have."
"Why would I be hungry?"
"When I go without eating for several days, my tummy hurts really really bad. I heard people talking about you. I saw what they were doing behind that building. They weren't giving you food, so I thought you might want some."
"Ahh. Them." 'Them' being a group of teenagers who wanted me to burn down their school. They offered a hamster who died last week, a comic book, and a chair from the school so I could 'sense the school's aura', whatever that meant. And that wasn't even the strangest! Honestly, I'm just happy we seem to be moving away from the 'virgin's blood' thing. That was awkward. "Sorry, kid. I don't really want it. I don't eat actual food."
"Is it because it's not good enough? It was the only thing I had that I didn't dig out of the trash." I take a step back to look at the boy. He doesn't have shoes, his hair is matted, and there's dirt and bruises all across his body. Why didn't I notice it before?
"Who's in charge of you?"
"I don't know. I take care of myself. I've been doing it for as long as I can remember."
"You know what? I lied."
"What?"
"I absolutely **love** chocolate bars."
"Really!?!"
Yup! My favorite thing in the whole wide world! You know what an offering of a chocolate bar will get you? A whole castle!"
"For real life!?! I've never seen a castle before!"
"Absolutely!" I reach out my hand for him to grab. I make a portal, back to my home. His eyes go wide. Before him stand the kingdom of fire. My land that I have ruled for eternity. "Come now. It is time for our subjects to meet the new prince of flame." | "Mama says we might have to start trading for food, soon." the boy whispers to the smoldering fire, "But I figure you might be hungry, too. No one's giving sacrifices anymore. The other refuse-gees say the Neritza took you from us. Changed your name and made you part of their pants-eon. I hope you're okay."
The Neritza had given no warning to these people. They simply swooped in and slaughtered. Those who lived were forced to worship other gods. To abandon their king, whose lineage I had founded, and follow their Emperor. To abandon their culture and become Neritza. There were no politics or negotiations. Join or die. Some ran. The boy's blonde hair was dark with grease and streaked with mud. What looked like the last of his clothing was frayed around the edges, with deep, jagged cuts across the chest. Like someone had slashed at him, just barely missing his skin.
I sense movement, behind us. I turn my awareness and find a jungle cat creeping along the forest floor, eyes locked on the fire and the child. It's salivating.
"But I also want you to help us, goddess." The predator leaps to a tree branch, climbing over the encampment, surveying the sleeping bodies, "Papa said you abandoned us. Stayed with the Neritza. Have you forsaken us? Why can't you help us?"
I craft a small bird, plucking it from the air, and tossed it in the path of the overgrown cat. It senses the prey, snatches it up, and runs away with its meal. Wind stirs another campfire, coaxing the flames and encouraging them to grow, grow, grow. It reaches out, hungering for the drunken man warming his back by the fire. I rebuke it with a flick of my hand, staunching the flow of air.
"Why don't you help us?" My heart breaks for the child. I turn and watch the tears carve streaks into his muddy face. I encourage sleep. He sobs for a moment more and returns to his mother's side in the dirt, angrily tossing his half of their small blanket around himself.
I place a new bar of chocolate in his sack of meager belongings and leave to cry alone. | 2022-09-19T13:04:33 | 2022-09-19T13:04:30 | 85 | 55 |
[WP] You are the only person who can travel through mirrors. Each mirror leads to a different dimension. One day, you travel through your own mirror to go to your favorite dimension. Instead, you travel into the apocalypse. | I've witnessed it all, societies lead by dinosaurs who worshipped a meteor; realities where Hitler won World War II; there's even a dimension where we are all blind. However, none compares to my world, the one I found on my bathroom's mirror.
I discovered my gift by sheer coincidence. I was twenty and my girlfriend broke up with me that infamous stormy night. I ran back to my house with the pouring rain drenching my existence. My innards were imbued with a concoction of anger, dread and anxiety.
I reached home, went straight to the bathroom and stomped my head against the mirror, strong enough to break it. Strangely, the impact produced ripples in the mirror as if it's state wasn't solid but liquid, like a raindrop splashing against the surface of a river.
*What?* I thought to myself and with all my force, I hustled my hand forward against the unsteady surface. My entire body got sucked in. That day I met the dimension where I spent most of my life.
A dimension different to all those I have visited, what set it apart wasn't a minor change in the course of history as the others. Instead, it was a major change on the origin of the universe.
As the mirror sucked me in, I appeared falling down from the sky, my body twisting, aggressive currents of air flooded every orifice not allowing me to breathe. *Wish it was a trampoline,* I thought, glimpsing at the cherry sea below me, how magnificent it was.
I hit the surface, the water bended downwards into a great depression like an elastic, and then released me back into the air. When I reached the zenith of the motion an enormous flying beast grabbed my hand.
"Mirror King, we were waiting for you," it said with a gruff voice.
I frowned, "mirror king?.
"Your Highness, do you accept to rule our thoughts and keep the balance between order and chaos?" it asked as it black, malleable talon wrapped my body.
*What in the world is happening?* I thought to myself. "What do you mean?"
The beast groaned or laughed, to this day, I don't know what that sound was, hoarse yet comforting. "This world is driven by thoughts, you're our King, bringer of balance," it said. "You can bend the world with your thoughts Your Highness, try it."
At this point, my existence brimmed with confusion but an enormous flying beast with malleable talons was talking to me, so why not give it a try? *Turn into a giant turtle,* I thought.
The talon of the creature began to shapeshift into a green, dinosaur-like paw filled with scales. In the blink of an eye, we were both falling again.
"Not the wisest decision, if I dare say Your Highness," the beast—now turtle—said.
*Change gravity,* I thought and we began to fall upwards. *This is amazing.*
"I see you are learning quickly Your Highness, let me explain further," the turtle said. "Thoughts can be neutralized by other thoughts, that's how we keep the order here, but lately a flood of evil thoughts struck our lands. We had to use all our thoughts to stop them."
"I see, so evil is rising," I said as I rubbed my chin, falling upwards felt amazing. "What's my role as a King?"
"The Imagination Parchment says you would come to restore the balance, it says only the Mirror King, a being of rationality of a different world where chaos constantly clashes against order will be able to unlock the powers of the Thoughtful Crown." Worry echoed in the back of his voice.
"Take me to this Crown, you have my interest," I said, and I didn't lie, this was *my world, my dimension.* It molded at my will.
------------------------------------------------
I will update in a moment with the apocalypse part!
| I slipped into the glass like a cool lake. Here was the place I called “Sunflower Sky”. It was one of my favorite dimensions, a vast field of sunflowers and an endless, cloudless sky. These great birds would soar high above, but they never seemed land . . . but of course I shouldn’t go on about describing it. After all, it was not my final destination, just a waypoint on my journey. A quarter mile away, through a well-travelled path I had cut in the sunflowers, was the mirror I was looking for. I called it “Crystal Lake”.
There was no place like Crystal Lake in all my travels. It was truly magnificent: a great underground chasm with phosphorescent crystals surrounding an enormous, pristine lake. I mean, truly enormous; I could not see across it. One time, I spend half a day trying to map its shoreline, but wound up diving into a backup hand-mirror after I realized I forgot to bring any lunch. I always travel with a few mirrors from my house for a quick return. One can never be too careful with interdimensional travel.
But that day was different. When I arrived at the Crystal Lake mirror, something was immediately off. At the time - oh how obvious hindsight can be! - I should have noticed that the birds which never landed had in fact been cawing from the ground nearby. I caught a glimpse of them through the sunflowers. Their great gray bodies bristled with porcupine quills. The mirror, too, was amiss. Its mahogany frame was suddenly lined with scratches and scuffs and the surface was cloudy - so cloudy that I could hardly see my own reflection. Still, I took the dive once more.
It was the heat, first. I felt a heat so strong and completely enveloping. It was as if the air itself was ablaze, though fortunately not enough to actually cause harm on its own. Then, there was the smell of it all. A horrific odor of smoke from thousands of different sources: wood, tires, fuel, drywall, trees, and piles and piles of refuse.
The world burned with unnatural flame, the sky was filled with red clouds which shimmered with white lightning, the sun was invisible behind great plumes of black smoke, and the ground was covered in a carpet of inky ash. People ran wild through desolated streets, clutching their faces in horror. A great tornado roared in the sky, impossibly high and ringed in a cloud of debris. Then, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“It’s not quite where you wanted to be, eh traveller?”
An old man, his eyes two golden spheres, his teeth filed like daggers, grabbed my coat intensely. He wore a cloak the color of saffron and his face was pale and veiny.
“You’ve come to the wrong place. You’ve come to the wrong time. You’ll do well to curb your travels, friend. Lest you wind up someone unexpected again.”
“Who are you?”, I screamed above the chaos around me.
“You never want to know the answer to that, friend,” he said, pulling a mirror from his pocket. He tapped it with a hammer, its surface cracked but did not break, and before I had a moment to move, he slammed me into the surface.
I awoke in my study and before I did anything else, I wrote this down, so that I might have an account, so that I would have this to show to you in case you don’t hear from me again.
| 2017-11-16T08:06:16 | 2017-11-16T07:53:01 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] When you and your twin sister were born your parents couldn't help but cry with your colorful and specifically shaped hair it was clear you would suffer from MCS, Main Character Syndrom, and would have to spend your life avoiding beginings of cliche adventures. | When I saw that hair, that’s when I knew I was going to die. My baby boy, Hermès, was just like every baby in that hospital, I’m sure that’s what all the doctors thought anyways. That’s what I thought too, but then, his hair started to come in.
Blue.
Shit, maybe it’s a fluke, just a random lucky event, natural blue hair and nothing more. But no, the older my boy got the spiked the hair until I knew what he had. Even got it diagnosed from those doctors back at the hospital. My boy was a main character. So I did what every dads supposed to do, I love him, I taught him how to throw a baseball, showed him the joys in fishing, and of course, did my best to teach him in any fighting style I could find on YouTube, in the hope that he would avenge me. He looks about the age where he will remember my death to the smallest detail. He won’t know why I was the one chosen to be struck down, he won’t understand why I did what I did, but that’s the role of dad in this world. Hermès is a main character, one day, he’ll even be a hero. But He’s my son first. He’ll remember me as his dad, and that’s all dads of a main character are supposed to be.
Memories. | "You are heroes of Azeroth!!" they shouted from the castle towers and main gate as the twins arose and walked through the masses of cheering peasants, nobles and royalty.
"You will defend the realm!!" one quite boisterous noble screamed as everyone else then hailed, cheered and applauded.
The twins now set out for the epic quest to protect their kinsmen had begun and as they walked away from a slowly draining applause they saw a giant yellow question mark.
The twins drew their weapons unsure..
"is he friendly?" they both thought simultaneously.
They realized he was and they approached. Surely this was what their entire life was building towards and it all was about to justify the masses of desperate citizens in this time of danger and war.
Hearts beating heavily knowing the challenge of their lives was approaching they nervously approached, sheathing their swords.
"Greetings, twins, I need you to collect 15 Silverleaf and 10 Briarthorn from just over on the hill across from me." | 2019-04-11T21:16:01 | 2019-04-11T20:19:24 | 34 | 19 |
[WP] Wandering the streets, jobless, homeless, you happen across a silver ring with an inscription: "Help for the Needy." Idly you slip it on. Suddenly a voice resonates deep within your bones: "44 YARDS NORTH A CHILD LIES FACE DOWN IN THEIR POOL, UNATTENDED. DEATH IN 172 SECONDS. TIME TO RUN." | Five years later...
The ring sat there on the nightstand the glint from the morning sun reflecting off of it. It seemed to be glaring at him.
He had done it. After five years he had finally taken it off. Five years of running. Five years of pushing people out of the way of buses, cars, and trains. Five years of snatching jumpers. Five years of diving into lakes, ponds and strange pools. Five years of searching purses and pockets for epipens. Five years of arguing with hospital staff over medication overdoses. Five years of no sleep except in snatches. Five years of near misses. Five years of incredible guilt but last night he took it off. After hauling a water logged toddler from a storm drain and performing CPR until the medics arrived, he shuffled home and without hesistation he slipped it off and set it on the nightstand.
The toddler hadn't made it. He was too late. It wasn't the first time. She lay there; blue lips, cold hair matted across her face. He was only one person.
He slipped the ring on. *THERE IS A PERSON HAVING A HEART ATTACK 1.1 MILES AWAY. RUN! RUN! HURRY!*
Tears rolled down his face. He slipped the ring off. He was so tired. He stood at the window of his apartment and threw it into the street below. The ring bounced tinging metallically down the asphalt.
***
Something rang out clinking as it fell. It rolled into a crevice at her feet. She bent over looking at the glinting object. *Hmm a ring?* She thought. She picked it up and looked it over, a plain scuffed silver ring.
She slipped it on.
*A PERSON IS ABOUT TO JUMP FROM THE FIFTH STORY WINDOW. HURRY! HURRY! YOU MUST SAVE THEM!*
She looked up to see a man casually step from the window and crash to the pavement below.
She shrieked and in her ears the new voice echoed. *YOU HAVE FAILED! YOU HAVE FAILED!*
| My feet took off before my brain could register what was happening, it hurt to run in the boots, but they were broken in plenty and I wasn't about to let a child die, there was no way in hell I'd ever allow that to happen. I rushed past people on their way to work who gave me queer stares, food vendors who shouted at me for bumping their carts, and dogs who lunged at me in both confusion and excited.
I didn't have time for any of it, not even my own health. I'm a failure in life, there's no reason I should let my physical capabilities hold me back from saving this drowning child. I didn't know how much time I had left, but I knew only a minute had gone by. As I approached what looked like a suburban neighborhood, I heard sirens off in the distance.
"This can't be happening."
I was faced with the dilemma of running to save a child, or running and further incriminating myself even though I hadn't done a thing wrong. My brain panicked but my feet were determined to keep moving forward, I didn't know how I had the knowledge of where the pool was, but I was nearly at a well painted house with a yard to match.
That's when I heard the shouting.
Everything after that became a blur, I'd like to tell myself I managed to save her and the police didn't have to come after me, that in the end I was only acting out on instinct. Yet no one listened, I was charged for that girls murder, and now I lay on a cold table awaiting lethal injection. The ring was still on my finger somehow, and I never wanted to see something burn more in my life. | 2018-04-30T10:41:56 | 2018-04-30T09:47:07 | 447 | 19 |
[WP] Your partner rolls over in your bed, looking at you with the most tired eyes you’ve ever seen. “I’m in a time loop.” | "What," I said hoarsely, "what do you mean you're in a time loop?"
She looked at me with an expression somewhere between frustration and resignation.
"I mean, I'm in a time loop. I am stuck in a loop of time that just repeats over and over again. It's been 4 days."
In my defense, I had just woken up, but the look on my face made her groan and plop back down onto the bed, head in her hands.
"I'm going to go back to 3:30 am," she said through gritted teeth, "in about 2 minutes."
I looked at our alarm clock. 7:28.
"So at 7:30, you'll be transported back - "
"Four hours, yes."
I sat up and tried to process this for a few seconds. The birds were chirping outside, light beginning to stream in through the curtains. Her hair was messy, her eyes tired and blank as she stared up at the ceiling. She looked like she hadn't slept for days, and her side of the sheets were caked with sweat.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
As soon as I asked, I grimaced. I knew the question didn't make any sense. She didn't answer, but instead looked at me with pleading eyes.
Suddenly, the alarm rang. 7:30. I scrambled over to turn it off almost instinctively, and then -
"What," I said hoarsely, "what do you mean you're in a time loop?"
She looked at me with an expression somewhere between frustration and resignation.
"I mean, I'm in a time loop. I am stuck in a loop of time that just repeats over and over again. It's been 5 days."
In my defense, I had just woken up, so I was a little confused, but wait. Did I...?
I sat up and tried to process this for a few seconds. The birds were chirping outside, light beginning to stream in through the curtains. Her hair was messy, her eyes tired and blank as she stared up at the ceiling. She looked like she hadn't slept for days, and her side of the sheets were caked with sweat.
"Have we... done this before?" I asked slowly.
She sat up, eyes suddenly alert, and scooched closer. "You remember now?"
I was having a hard time with it, and I wasn't sure if I was dreaming, but I managed to squeak out a "...yes?"
I looked at the alarm clock. 7:29. "It's gonna happen again, isn't it?"
She nodded sadly and hugged my arm. "Come back with me," she said softly. "Don't let me do it alone again."
The alarm rang.
"What," I said hoarsely, "what do you mean you're in a time loop?"
She looked at me with an expression somewhere between frustration and resignation.
"No, wait! I remember. I know this." I leapt up from the bed and went to the window, moving the curtains aside. The birds were chirping and the light was streaming in. "The time is 7:28, isn't it?"
She glanced at the alarm clock and nodded. Suddenly, she furrowed her eyebrows and opened her mouth.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Since when do we have this alarm clock?" she pointed to it accusingly. It was a small digital alarm clock with faux wood from like the 80s or something.
"I bought it a few days ago at a yard sale, remember? I just didn't wanna be late for work again, so - "
She crawled over to my side of the bed and reached under the nightstand, taking the cord out of the wall. Before I could say anything, she had walked up to the window, opened it, and thrown the alarm clock out onto the street below. I heard a metallic crash, and a car alarm started screeching.
"Baby, what the hell!?" I said, raising my voice. I ran to the window and closed it, drawing the curtains again and hoping no one had seen. She went to the bathroom, walking like a zombie, and splashed some water on her face, then came back and laid down on the bed, closing her eyes. I was still incredulous and asked why she did that, but she just told me to shush.
"What time is it?" she asked weakly.
I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed my phone. 7:31.
"Nice," she said, and fell asleep. | I looked into her eyes while I considered this. Then I sat up.
"I already thought of that," she said, just as I opened my mouth.
"..." I tried, before she headed me off again.
"No, I don't remember any science experiment, curses, wizards, witches, or magical creatures."
"..." I helpfully suggested.
"Sure, but that just leaves me with no evidence and Occam's Razor," she explained.
"..." I countered, playing devil's advocate.
"In which case," she agreed, sitting up and rubbing her eyes, "you should probably just accept my answers. And yes, I've counted. And yes, I'm sure I lost count at least twice. But it's north of three hundred thousand."
"..." I puzzled, getting up and fishing for a pair of pants from the closet.
"Because I can't actually accomplish anything productive until seven minutes past nine," she complained, flopping back into the pillow with one arm over her eyes.
"..." I asked, dreading the answer.
"At 9.07, I can make a call to our fiduciary and tell him what trades to go heavy on today. That triggers a market shift, preventing your cousin Jerry from killing himself when his penny stocks jump enough to cover his embezzlement losses."
"..." I scowl, unsurprised but still disappointed.
"Everyone knew it but you and his wife."
She rolled out of bed, dragging herself to an upright, if wobbly, stance.
"..." I began, heading towards the kitchen.
"Yes, fuck yes. Big mug, extra sugar. Thank you."
It continued on like that most of the morning. She logged into our bank's webpage and moved our life savings into our market account; within an hour, we had more money than I thought was possible. The phone rang and she snatched it up, named an interest rate, and hung up. Within another ten minutes, an email arrived informing us that we were *exceedingly* important customers, and If there was *anything* the bank could do for us...
"..." I tried, feeling guilty for interrupting her.
"It's fine. I'm almost done," she admitted.
"..." I mused, taking her coffee cup to the sink.
"Well yeah, but it's so much easier when you have basically infinite money," she quipped.
I sat next to her on the couch, idly rubbing her back. She sighed, massaging her temples.
"..." I asked, curious.
"Oh yeah."
"..." I pressed, already dreading the answer.
"Alfonso, the guy who owns the little grocery store down the street. Like, by *a lot.* No other guy in this state comes close."
"..." I pout, sneering at the thought.
"Sorry babe. You're not even in the top twenty thousand." She shrugged dismissively.
"..." I accused.
"Yup," she agreed. "Wouldn't you?"
I made a face and refused to dignify that dreadfully accurate statement with a response.
We sat in silence for a few minutes while I pouted.
"Well, I guess I can't blame you," I said, dejectedly.
She whipped her head around, staring fiercely.
"*What did you say?*" she shot back.
"I... I said," I stuttered, realizing I had managed my first actual sentence of the day, "that I can't blame you."
"You've never said that before," she wondered, awe creeping into her voice. "Say something else."
"I...um... I love you and I forgive you for cheating on me with more than 20,000 people, since there's apparently no consequences except my crushed ego?" I offered.
She giggled, unexpectedly. A touch of the weariness in her face seemed to lift as she looked at me.
Then she pounced.
"10,000 years," she said between kisses, "and you *still* manage to surprise me... How about I show you what all that experience taught me?"
It wasn't long before I wouldn't mind being stuck in that time loop, myself... | 2022-05-29T00:48:59 | 2022-05-28T23:08:13 | 62 | 19 |
[WP] A vampire has infiltrated a school, figuring they'd have an easy source of snacks... only to get staked with a pencil by one of the students.
Because kids are vicious. | Food was scarce during this climate with barely anyone going outdoors (Complete callousness on the government's part with all the lockdowns. No thoughts were spared for us with...other needs). So, I figured that this was the perfect cover: posing as a night-time school janitor. With my long coat, unkempt hair, and skin so pale I am almost faded, I could simply pass off as a vagrant. I looked around my humble abode of a tiny closet littered with rags and mops. In the corner lay a double-bass bag I had nicked from the band room and filled it with Transylvanian soil. It's pathetic, but this is where I have to sleep now. I clambered into the small bag and closed the flap. It's almost sunrise and I have a special night to prepare for.
I had been planning for tomorrow night for two months. The school had organised an overnight camp on the campus; that means fresh blood out and about at night. It's my only chance since I obviously cannot roam around in the day.
I was woken up by the high-pitched cheering of prepubescents. It was time. Shadows crawled out of their corners as dusk grew and the waning crescent moon hung in the night sky. I tried to fade into the shadows but I was too weak. Instead, I positioned myself between the hall and the toilet and lurked in the corner with a mop in hand.
Patience was my forte, for I had lived a thousand years. I waited for a few hours before hearing footsteps and chatters. How many were there? Three? Four? That won’t do. But I’m desperate. Four girls appeared around the corner. Before I could look up, they stopped in their tracks.
“Ewww, loser,” said one girl with an affected Valley Girl accent, pinching her nose. “Ugh, what a boring night. You know what will be fun, girls? Let’s torment this loser.” They giggled in agreement and advanced towards me. I stood up and drew myself up to full height but they were unperturbed. One girl kicked me in the knees and sent me howling on the floor. I barred my teeth and hissed, flashing my canine teeth. Far from being intimidated, they were encouraged. They continued advancing and one girl took out a sharpened wooden pencil from her skirt. I retreated back into the corner. In all my years of aiding wars and battling countless nemeses, I had never met such vile beings! The pure vengeance in their eyes. These were not just twelve-year-olds. These were psychopaths sent by Master to punish me for deserting him.
“Master, I have not deserted you. Times are hard. I swear.” I cowered in the corner and begged.
The girls just stared wildly. “Err, weird?” mocked one girl. The girl with the wooden pencil was now standing over me. She poked me with the pencil lightly and I writhed in pain. I could feel whatever remaining power I had leaving me. Whatever strength I had left I used it to shove her back and pushed myself up. I charged in an attempt to flee but the girl was in the way. Thinking that I was retaliating, the girl plunged the wooden stake into my gut. I fell flat and adrenaline rushed through me. With a last effort, I dove into the shadow and faded. The last thing I heard was the girls’ chortling turned into silence as they stared agape.
I reappeared at the graveyard and ripped out the wooden pencil from my stomach. I lay in my coffin as I am writing this with the very weapon I was stabbed with. To my comrades or whoever reading this that is like me: Steer away from the evil institution that is Merryweather Catholic Girls School. There lie unfathomable peril and devilry. | Name: Mia Lopez
Date: Monday, Feb. 8, 2021
Class: 5-143
Learning Target: I can write autobiographies.
Directions: Write about one of your days in school.
So, the craziest thing happened in school today. It was a normal day. I woke up, ate breakfast and got to school early. (yay) Everything started out fine. I went to the yard and talked with my best friend Amy, who was also early. Before we went inside, I went up and talked to this weird man in a long coat who was just standing there, staring at everyone. (I got to meet him before everything happened!). He was kind of weird (but we all know why). He only gave one word answers to all of my questions, and he didn't seem to like me all that much.
The bell rang. We went inside. We all sat down and school began as normal. After lunch, we all went back inside. Now's where the exciting parts start to happen.
The man in the long coat came inside our classroom. At first, I thought he was probably some guy that shows up every month to teach us about a certain subject. The teachers do this a lot. Hey Ms. Williams, since you're reading this, can you please stop sending people over like that? It's not all that fun, just annoying.
Then the man barred the door. He took a huge piece of wood from I don't know where, and slid it across the handles or something. Then Ms. Williams screamed! (Sorry, but you did.) That's how we knew he wasn't supposed to be there.
The man turned back to us, and his face changed. He had sharp teeth, and blood red eyes. He was a vampire! Ms. Williams took one look at him and fainted. She didn't hit her head though, and she's fine. (You are fine, right?)
The vampire probably looked at us and thought "easy pickings", right? Wrong! I shouted "vampire!" And a few of my friends shrieked. Yes, I was the one that figured it out first.
He advanced on us, his long cape billowing out behind him.
We did what any of us would have done, really. We totally beat him. It took only a few minutes. He was completely unprepared, and in the end, Amy stabbed him with a pencil and he died.
I also stabbed him with a pencil, but not in his heart. I was amazing!!!
Please please please can we do that again? It was definitely the best day I've ever had in school. And the best part was we didn't have lessons for the rest of the week, although the police didn't believe that it really was a vampire who was after us.
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
By the way, I have a new sub that's just a collection of stories I wrote. You can check it out if you'd like. It's [r/walkingalltheskies](https://www.reddit.com/r/walkingalltheskies/) | 2021-02-14T19:53:37 | 2021-02-14T16:41:33 | 33 | 24 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | It was 5:30 this morning when I woke up to the typical sound of my neighbors arguing over something. They always had some feud between them - who had the bigger truck, the greener lawn, the children with the highest grades... It was exhausting living between them, never involved in their madness yet always right in the middle of it.
I rubbed the morning grit from my eyes and peered out the window to see them both gesturing wildly to their coffee mugs. What could possibly be wrong with their own individual supplies of coffee? I knew better than to ask, I figured I would just wait it out and hopefully by the time I left for work at 6:45 they would be done with their drama for the day.
I made a coffee for myself. The last drip had just fallen in the cup when I heard my two children wake up. They usually slept in, but there was no doubt I wasn't the only one disturbed by the ongoing yelling. Suddenly audible were my wife's footsteps, first to the children's rooms and then down the stairs.
"Hey, Greg. Do you mind asking them to stop their yelling or take it inside? They woke the kids and I really don't like getting involved." My wife asked of me, one child on each arm.
"Of course." I replied.
I grabbed my coffee off the counter and walked outside, they didn't even notice me at first.
"Fellas?" I approached, cautiously.
"What? What do you want?" One of them snapped at me.
"Look, it's early in the morning. Can't this argument wait until, I don't know, daylight? What is this about anyway?"
"You don't know?" The other asked me incredulously.
"Know what?"
"It's the mugs! The number one dad mugs? Did you notice a little something, *different* about yours this morning?" They held theirs up, #2094827 Dad and #2094828 Dad. Was this a joke someone had played?
I didn't really take much notice of my mug, it was a thoughtful gift from my son last father's day and served me well. I just hadn't really observed its features since the day I got it. I looked down at my coffee mug, my neighbors stared at me with amused patience in their eyes.
"Well?" My neighbor asked.
"Well what? It just says number one dad like it always does."
And that's the last thing I remember before waking up in the hospital, officer. | It was a rough morning this particular day. Having some beers at the local pub didn't help calm the waves of frustration and tension I had to overcome the last couple years. The patronage was meager at best, and the draft Guinness left way too much to be imagination. I had seen families come and go, but never knew what had happened the previous day. It was called "hello fathers day" and many didn't agree with it. I myself wasn't prepared for the value of 5,627,490. What kind of dad am I to have "earned" such a distinct punch to the gut? Was I really that bad of a father?
The barkeep consoled my sorrow with a fresh mug still foaming over as they used the wooden stick to cut to top off.
He was unusually joyful today after so many father's had learned they too were in the 5M ranks in the local area. The news papers had photos of mugs smashed on the streets as if to protest the unusual events insignificance, whilst showing the world their arrogance and ignorance to the truth.
I looked up from my freshly tasted draft and asked the barkeep why he was in such a good mood?
He replied: You see that hook above the bar where all the other mugs are?
I nodded in acknowledgement.
That's my father's mug!
So? I replied. What's so special about your father?
The barkeep laughed in bewilder of my ignorance to the fact I'd never really gotten to know him, or his family.
Go and get it down from there!
Fine, I must know why you're in such a good mood!
I go to reach for the mug, and within an instant of turning it around the mug displayed the number 1.
I was shocked to see it said "1". This must be a joke barkeep!
No, not at all! He replied.
Who's you're father?
The barkeep flexed his muscles and cried out "John Fucking Zoidberg!"
| 2017-06-11T09:50:25 | 2017-06-11T08:40:30 | 222 | 31 |
[WP] Your grandfather always claimed that he was abducted and fought in an alien war for a few years before returning to Earth. Now, at his funeral, you see several otherworldly strangers paying their final respects. | One hundred four years. One thousand forty eight months. Five thousand four hundred twenty six weeks. Thirty seven thousand nine hundred eighty five days.
Make the durations of time as small as you want, doesn't change the fact that Grandfather's gone.
My grandfather, Felix Felixson (I know, I know. Go ahead and laugh), was a survivor. Grew up dirt poor, and then when he was sixteen, the stock market crashed and the entire world was dirt poor. Felix left home to look for work...and that's when it gets strange. None of his family heard from him for a long time.
That normally wouldn't be too strange. Felix couldn't read or write well, so he might not have sent many letters. But it was years before anybody even heard from him again. He left in 1930, and didn't come back until 1941, and he had barely aged a day.
And then Pearl Harbor happened and the United States of America, the US of A, entered World War II. And Grandfather Felix joined right up. When he was in basic, people began to notice things. Here he was, in his late twenties, and he was the best at everything. Especially gun assembly. And hand-to-hand combat.
It was like he had fought before.
I asked him about it later, when I was about ten, looking at the medals he had received. The ones from basic training. The ones from the battles in Europe. The ones from Korea and Vietnam.
"Nigel," he told me. "I did so well because I had done it all before. I fought for eleven years in the Galactic Armada. Strike Force, Division Three, Squad Seventeen."
"What the heck?" I had said. "Grandpa, I think you might need to sit down."
"First, son, watch that potty mouth. It doesn't suit you. Second, if you must swear, good grief could you at least put some effort into it? The Elubrians were much better than that---and they didn't have tongues! And the Powwommellis could use such coarse language it would make the paint peel--and their languages are monosyllabic!"
That's how it started. For the next fourteen years, my grandpa told me stories. Stories of war on far-off planets. Wars where freedom was on the line and cruel beings wished to impose their rule. Wars that made heroes.
And now he was gone.
*******
It is the day of his funeral, and I am one of the first in the church for the service. I am wearing a coat and tie for the first time since graduation.
My grandfather's casket is mocking me. I don't know how. It just is. Why do we have a casket? And why are we in this church? This isn't where Grandfather worshiped. He liked the Pentecostal services.
I turn my head, slowly, when I hear the door to the sanctuary open. There are...quite a few people there actually. Three of them are old army buddies of his. Cliff is totally bald and tall and wrinkly. He served with Grandfather back in Europe. Smitty was with him in Korea. And Paul...Paul was a guy Grandfather knew from the VA. They didn't serve together on the battlefield, but they swapped stories a lot.
I don't recognize the handful of people that shuffle in behind them. Who are they? Old soldiers buddies? It's possible, but Grandfather was old, and it's only been four days. That's not a lot of time for somebody to get ready for a funeral.
One of the strangers steps forward. His eyes are very large, brown. They glimmer with tears and the brown shimmers to green. What the? The green becomes blue. Huh?!
A second of the strangers is murmuring a language I don't understand. Huh, maybe he's speaking in tongues.
******
I'll write some more later. | There is always some confusion during tragedy. Always an internal commotion that wells as you stare blankly forward, wading through the pain. It always comes and there is nothing anyone can do to stay the tides.
The man put his hand on my shoulder. He was tall and he barely spoke. I focused on the casket but my thoughts were lost and all I saw was his face. I missed him, truly I did, and my mind was wandering in that sea of desolation.
“He was good,” the man said. His grip tightened. “We were close.”
The man sobbed for a long time. In the moment I was cruel, selfish and angry. I wondered what right he had to be sad. He was a stranger. He was a stranger to me and to everyone else there. A stranger to a great many things now that I think back.
“Why don’t you go away?” I said. “He never spoke about you.”
The man gripped my shoulder tighter. I made to move his hand.
“Would you like to see?”
He squeezed now and I felt like falling. I wanted to scream and then everything fell away. Even the hurt had drawn back behind a thin curtain. My thoughts went blank and then I saw the past far away from a world impossible to imagine.
The high clouds were glossy and transparent. The smell of bleach hung above the grassy plains. A young man held onto something that looked like a pen. He was afraid. He was near death. The sky rumbled as great shadows fell like rain. The world went cold and quiet and then burst into fiery sound. My grandfather charged as the enemy fell from pods. The pen exploded with light, crackling like thunder. He was laughing as they fell.
More and more came and he fell back.
“Salim!” he cried.
The man who would attend his funeral shouted a response.
“It is all lost Salim!”
“No Gerald! Run back! It is not lost! There are more worlds than this. Run back!”
And at his voice the world shifted. A cold winter, endless in its desolation filled my view. My grandfather hid inside a cabin at the edge of lake far greater than any ocean we would know. I felt his ache and discomfort. I felt his pain. I could not take it much longer. I wanted to cry and to help him. I wanted to tell him to not give up as he contemplated ending it all. I wanted to tell him I loved him very much.
But then he was dead and I was staring at his casket and not really thinking. That curtain in my mind fluttered away as the sadness came with renewed strength. I turned to the man.
“There are others here,” he said. “Gerald was a good man.”
And he was crying. I wanted to comfort him but I was crying as well.
“Such a thing to cry for the dead,” he said. “Always so different the worlds are. Yet we all cry. Sometimes on the inside, sometimes on the outside.”
There were others there just as he had said. I felt them looking, feeling that same confusion I felt. I had no words really, and I wonder now if I should have said more. As many worlds that existed, it all felt small and claustrophobic then, a narrow cave of dull hurt.
“Salim?” I asked.
The man looked at me and smiled.
“Yes,” he said. And then we were quiet.
After my grandfather was laid to rest he had gone and I have never seen him again. | 2016-11-12T15:04:40 | 2016-11-12T14:57:51 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] The Galaxy's changed alot since Humans became involved yet one thing has never changed with these bipedal creatures. Their insatiable curiosity to pet everything and anything in existence with their hands. It's their defining feature. | “I have crossed the Milky Way a thousand times. I have seen the mightiest monsters brought low, culled cunning creatures of the dark, sent the ancient animals of time’s beginning to extinction. I am Grog the Breaker. Tamer of beasts. Master of the Dark Menagerie. And as the sun sets on this desolate world, I shall begin the greatest hunt of my— what’re you doing?”
Grog, arms raised mid monologue, glances out of the side of his four eyes. The human is rubbing its appendage on the Quorox! A beast so deadly it took Grog thirty days and thirty nights to subdue it. It is a two ton mass of dark furry muscle, it can secrete a neuro-toxin that will paralyze a hominid for a month, and not to mention it’s got really big teeth. Yet this human “journalist” is . . . doing what exactly?
Grog drops his arms and turns, his massive leather cape billowing in the alien breeze. “What’re you doing?”
“Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy!” The human continues to rub the apex predator of Narth without a care in the world.
“What’re you doing!?” Grog bellows.
The human doesn’t look away and continues to talk in that ridiculous baby voice. “You’re just a big fur ball. Yes you are!” The Quorox’s rear tree trunk sized leg is smashing into the cage floor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Grog. This thing’s a real sweetheart.”
Grog scratches his face with one of his claws. “Sweetheart?”
The human stands, her blue eyes twinkling in the twin moonlight. “You know, sweetheart, like nice. Good natured.”
“Grog possesses neither a heart nor sweetness.” Grog snorts and crosses his arms.
“Yeah I got that.” The human takes out a pen and paper, turning away from the Quorox. She clicks the pen. “So we doing this or what? The Titan Times has been bugging me all solar week to get this interview in.”
Grog looks up to the stars, the Milky Way unfurled above in all its splendor, he breathes deeps. “Yes. It is written in the stars.”
“Great, so long as it gets written in the paper.” The human writes on the page and furrows her brow. She tries again. She licks the pen.
Out of the corner of his eye Grog sees the Quorox moving. Though he can move as swift as the Cheetarah of the Lost Moon, he is not fast enough to stop it. The Quorox opens its giant maw, tongue lolling. Grog roars, “no!”
“Blech!” The now saliva soaked journalist stands dripping before a stunned Grog. “Guess he likes me!”
The Quorox makes a noise, like a soft purr, that Grog has never heard before. The journalist puts the now drenched pen to the paper. “Hey it works!” | "Nurse, he needs 400 units of zelidraf immediately!", the surgeon yelled.
The doors to the operating room burst open, quickly followed by the stretcher that carried the murderous screams of a patient, along with a full team of Kaflaronian medical professionals.
The nurse was rustling through the medical cabinet, knocking over the most common medicines to treat human injuries, but was clearly struggling.
"I - I can't find it!", she yelled, her voice tight with panic.
As the surgeon finished putting on his last glove, he eyed the cabinet and calmly stated, "3rd shelf, row 5, 2nd from the left."
Retrieving the medicine, the nurse placed it into the specfirt cylinder and injected the liquid into the internal jugular vein of the patient. His screaming intensified, then dampened to silence as he lost consciousness.
"Nurse, calm down and take a breath. Don't be too hard on yourself, I've only used zelidraf on our human partners a tentacleful of times. It's not often that we need it," the surgeon said.
He added, "Can you explain what caused the patient's injury?"
She looked around the room at the other medical personnel, all of them stealing glances at one another. "He- well, he-"
Another doctor broke in. "Sir, he tried to touch a razilon."
The surgeon stopped immediately. "You're kidding! How? Why?! I don't underst-"
The psychologist cut him off. "Sir, it's one of the defining features of our bipedal hosts. They have developed an almost evolutionary *need* to trigger dopamine systems in the brain by using their metacarpus. They use them in a stroking manner along the skin of many types of species."
"But a razilon?!" the surgeon replied.
The psychologist nodded his head. "I know, sir."
The human patient was rapidly losing color across his whole body, turning more pale by the second. His right arm was amputated just above the elbow. The unique skeletal system of the humans presented a challenge to the Kaflaronian surgeon. The venom coursing through the patients body would spread using the bone marrow as a highway of sorts. The patient's veins were already turning black, starting from the missing arm and working their way across the body.
"Okay," the surgeon started, "I'm calling it now. There's no chance in bringing him back from this. We need to save the zelidraf for future patients."
"The time is 1:25pm," he finished. | 2021-08-21T10:26:16 | 2021-08-21T08:32:37 | 31 | 21 |
[WP] While sitting in class during a boring lecture you suddenly hear someone whispering in your ear. You turn around nervously and see that no one was there and none of the other students heard. But your teacher drops her notes and stares at you in shock. | "So you hear them."
That's where my story really starts. I'd always had been the kind of kid who
hated drawing attention to myself, and I was new to the whole "middle school"
thing, so when old Ms. Farris caught my eye and mouthed "later",
I was perfectly content to act like nothing had happened. Until later
came, of course.
Alone with her after class, I was terrified I had done something wrong,
especially when she locked the door. I had no idea *what*, of course - but
that just makes the imagination worse. Don't the lock up people who hear
voices? But apparently she heard them too?
So I held my tongue, and she, being far more comfortable with hers,
chattered on. "It's been so long now; I've been alone since my dear Aunt
died." Tears sparkled in her eyes, while confusion reigned in mine.
Eventually she noticed that I had stayed silent, and she tried to calm and
comfort me with a hug. It worked. "Don't worry, dear, there's nothing to be
afraid of." She laughed a little. "It's just so hard to explain."
Sitting back, she began her story. "I was a few years younger than you when
I first heard them myself, I hardly remember what it was like to not know
them. Of course, my case was different in a lot of ways. I'd always loved my
Aunt Eliza more than than my own parents, and known she had a ... presence
... that no one else had. So this was just another joy for us to share
together, and I *so* wished my dad had married her instead of her boring
sister.
"I suppose the first thing you want to know is what the voices are. I call
them Guardians, and my aunt called them Angels, but neither of us ever
figured out much about where they came from. They're not physical beings,
clearly, but they can interact physically when they need to. Also, they
don't ever take any action of their own accord other than to speak, so
they're perfectly harmless.
"The more important question is: what do the voices *do*? As far as I can
tell, they can do anything they want. The idea of "impossible" is foreign
to them. But what they want is, largely, to do whatever is asked of them.
They don't seem to need, or desire, anything of their own.
"There are some limits of course. The most important is that they'll never
do anything related to another person who speaks with them. So while I know
there are others like you and I, there's no way to find where they are.
"Second, whatever their other abilities, they're not very ... creative. So,
sometimes, you'll have to be very detailed in your requests. But, as I said
before, they *are* harmless, at least to us, so you will always have the
chance to clarify.
"Third, they can't - or won't - affect time. The best you can do is ask for
faster reflexes, or for a broken object to be restored.
"Finally, you should be cautious using, or talking about, this power around
other people, who don't have the same protection that we have. You could
accidentally hurt someone, or just draw awkward attention to yourself.
Even if the Guardians can take care of your natural needs, we're just not
meant to live alone."
I was silent for a long moment, until she prompted me, "well?"
I babbled "wow, it's just so ... wow. Is it really ... no, I mean ... how
do you, you know, do those things?"
"Remember it's not us, dear, it's them. And you just have to ask the same
way as the whispers. Just concentrate on where they're coming from, and
send your thoughts in that direction. Here." She stood, and her eyes lost
focus for a second.
The background whispers changed, from a vaguely questioning murmur to a
sharp excitement, as before my eyes Ms. Farris started to lift off the
ground!
"Just think 'float'," she told me. "Or," she grabbed a piece of chalk and
snapped it in half, "picture this being whole again. It doesn't have to be
words as long as you're clear about it."
And so I did. Once I got over the shock of it, and learned how to land
gracefully, she recommended, "now that you've proven to yourself that it
works, your first real command should be 'protect me'. I'm not sure that's
even necessary for us, but it can't hurt so it's a good idea."
We practiced a little more, and then I went home, to practice more alone.
***
Ms. Farris died a month before my high school graduation. One day she just
didn't show up for work, and they found her lying peacefully in her bed,
a smile on her face.
She'd transferred over the the high school when I did, and taught all the
way to the end, ignoring numerous requests that she retire. I know she did
it all to keep an eye out for me, and I'll never forget her.
But sometimes I wonder about those things she didn't know ...
| "and Odin the ruler of the Aesir was to be devoured by Fenrir" i never pay attention to these stupid lectures on mythology its not like its important it's all just ancient bullshit stories.
"its not bullshit, i love Mythology" I heard a familiar voice, dark and cold like ice cracking whisper into my ear a cold chill running down my arms and through my spine, i had thought i was free of HIS influence. i looked over to where the voice came from and saw noone there accept, Miss Erikson who had dropped her books and bent down to pick them up, frozen with a look of pure shock and horror on her face, she quickly yelled "class dismissed everyone go to your other classes accept you Jackson, "I DONT TRUST HER" the icy voice spoke again with a hint of disdain in its voice.
Miss Erikson had taken her seat behind the desk and was studying me with a look of horror still on her face.
"Jackson I need to ask you a question and I need the truth, I'm asking from a place of concern" she paused a few moments taking off her thick black glasses and rubbing her forehead
"Do you hear voices"
"SAY NOTHING" the chilling voice commanded
"No miss I don't hear any voices in my head I'm not crazy"
"Not in your head, do you ever feel a chill and then hear a voice?" She asked looking me straight in the eyes with the determination of a charging rhino
"You can see him can't you"
"SAY NOTHING JACKSON SHE CANT HELP YOU"
"How long has it been following you"
"Around 2 months ago I started discovering strange things and it clung to me"
"What strange things Jackson?"
"SHE WILL USE YOU"
"Other worlds Places things like you describe in your mythology, a world of snow, a golden mountaintop palace,a quiet Japanese garden that went on forever and had books that flew around above your head, but no matter what there aren't any bullshit gods"
"The first thing I saw was this snake like thing and now it's fucking haunting me!"
"HAUNTING MORE LIKE FOLLOWING WITH INTEREST" it said flashing it's snake like form around my neck
"Language!," miss Erikson said not missing a chance to remind me she is a teacher
"Has it always been a snake Jackson" she said returning to her calmness as if I didn't just tell her I have seen literal other worlds
"It started small and wormlike following me unable to talk making hissing noises it's grown bigger since I first found it"
"You seem to unconcerned that I have seen other world do you know what it is what it is I can do and why"
"SILENCE JACKSON THE WHORE KNOWS ONLY LIES AND DECEIT SHE WILL USE YOU AND LEAVE YOU FOR DEAD"
"I WILL EXPLAIN ALL IN DUE TIME YOUR NOT READY" "I AM YOUR GUIDE!"
"It depends have you seen these other worlds only while asleep or have you been there while awake, have you ever felt them"
"Mostly while asleep but one morning when I got out of the shower I slipped and fell in snow I felt the chill the biting icy cold I heard the wind but when I got up it was gone it was the bathroom again"
At that she stared intently at me again "do you know what astral projection is Jackson?"
"Out of body experience?"
"Yes some people travel to other worlds that way but you travel there in person your what they call a Realmwalker"
"FOOL NOW SHE KNOWS YOUR TRUE WORTH"
"And this" she reached under her desk and pulled out a large book bound in leather with an unreadable cover
She flicked through it for five minutes before showing me a page. It had the image of a large snake coiling around a man but the writing above it written boldly, neatly and trimmed in gold said "Raven"
The other page said: "the raven is a trickster since the dawn of all worlds it often takes the form of a snake naming itself as a guide to unwary realmwalkers following them in a spectral icy snakelike form whispering lies and truth into his ear until the realmwalker no longer knows reality from fiction"
"Is what is plaguing you Jackson we can remove it but you must trust me"
"Is a ritual preformed in Scandinavia where I was born by the volva to invoke the very real very powerful gods"
"If that doesn't work" she said slowly reaching under her desk "we can try" she said slowly raising a knife "a Greek ritual to unbind certain "things" from people"
"DONT TRUST HER JACKSON THE WHORE WANTS YOUR GIFT SHE WILL SLAUGHTER YOU LIKE A LAMB YOU MUST RUN NOW AND DONT TURN BACK CHANGE REALMS IF YOU MUST"
...so this crappy thing took all afternoon to write if people like it I will write more tomorrow if not please leave a comment telling me what you didn't like .constructive criticism is always welcome
| 2017-01-14T20:24:29 | 2017-01-14T18:54:41 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] The fact the uncanny valley exists is terrifying. Being scared by things that look almost human but aren't. Other animals do not have this. That means that at some point in our evolution, running away from things that looked almost human was advantageous enough to be imprinted on our genetics. | The retired professor turned this way and that, crazy haired and wild eyed, looking for something that wasn't there.
Sturbink's office light had shut off about thirty seconds ago. He had been lost in the research time vortex that afflicted adderall users everywhere, absorbed by first hand accounts of murders from the late 18th century. All of the reports had something in common; the witnesses glimpsed the killers before they vanished, and the killers always seemed achingly familiar, as if they were wayward family members of their unfortunate victims.
Sturbink kept returning to the same eyewitness account, fascinated by a gruesome series of murders in a shipyard in Liverpool. The witness survived by hiding in the half-completed hull of a British Man of War, where he watched his friends and coworkers die. When he was finally found he kept repeating the same line over and over.
*They came like wraiths in the night.*
The young man's story didn't hold up and he was deemed insane. He stood trial as the murderer and was promptly executed.
"No matter," Sturbink said, speaking defiantly to the pitch-black room. He had no family to speak of besides the wonderful woman who came twice a week to clean and do the dishes, so he was used to dealing with the old house's issues by himself. "Just bad timing. Been meaning to replace the light bulb."
He bit back a little frustration. So close to tying it all together... this eyewitness account had to contain the final thread in the riddle he had been trying to solve for a decade. Slowly but surely he had begun to uncover common themes in the murders, and now Sturbink was getting closer to understanding how it all fit into the bigger picture. These murders were related in some important way. The same patterns spanned for centures.
The retired professor groped around for his phone, feeling an intense sense of relief when his fingers brushed across the cold metal. "I'll just turn the flashlight on," he muttered.
Chilled sweat spewed forth, soaking his shirt in seconds.
A hand was placed on top of his, now frozen against the phone which still lay flat on the table. Eternity seemed to pass. Sturbink's vision adjusted until he could see an outline of the hand, which was covered in porcelain skin that almost glowed in the dark. His eyes followed the arm upwards to a face that stared at him with otherworldly intensity, its features blurred in the dark.
"So close," Sturbink said, eyeing the creature, feeling vindication amidst the pounding terror of his heart. He was right.
"You are close," the creature whispered. "So close to uncovering it all."
The being's breath was achingly cold, chilling the retired professor where it brushed across his skin. Slowly, surely, the being's features crystallized in the darkness until he could make out a younger Sturbink staring back at him, an unblemished face carrying a serene expression.
-----------------
"Fuck," Conrad was standing over the corpse, hands in his pockets, adopting the sarcastic tone of detectives everywhere. In this case it was warranted. The corpse's eyes were bulged and shot through with red veins, as if an unknown pressure threatened to pop them out of their sockets.
"Another freezer burn," Conrad said, pointing at Sturbink's clawed hand. "I swear we are seeing this shit more and more."
The entire house had been cordoned off, and all traffic had been re-routed through other neighborhoods, not that there was much this late at night.
The murder had been reported by a frightened maid earlier this afternoon, and the police presence had increased six-fold after it became clear who the victim was. This didn't make much sense to the two NYPD detectives who had been assigned to the case and ordered to catalog everything before the Feds arrived.
The victim was a conspiracy nut who had been a staple commentor on a few outspoken online forums. The guy had been a professor years ago, but for the last two decades of his life he had been a recluse. It was strange for the higher ups to show such an interest in a nobody troll on the internet.
"He was working on a novel or something," Tulfer said, eyeing the enormous amount of stacked documents on the table. The victim's laptop was still open, on a whim Tulfer put on a plastic glove and jiggled the mouse a bit, causing the laptop to spring to life. It did not prompt him for a password, instead opening straight to a word document. "Something called *Mirrored Species."*
"Bit of a lunatic, eh?" Conrad said. "FBI guys will be here in a few minutes, we should wrap it up."
The light clicked off. | \[Use this guide to translate the caveman speech.\]([https://public.wsu.edu/\~delahoyd/cavespeak.html](https://public.wsu.edu/~delahoyd/cavespeak.html))
“Neecha, maka. Igac maka-daka neecha!”
The other four cavemen whooped and hollered at Igac’s boastful retelling of the saber-toothed cat he had killed earlier that day. Their voices echoed outwards from their cave and into the starry night beyond, the cool night air providing a relaxing contrast to the gentle waves of heat emanating from the fire in front of them. As the five gradually settled down, one of them stood up and spoke, “Torv chok reeshi. Neh-unk reeshi maka-zook.”
Igac nodded and replied, “Bato, Torv. Bato maka neechas.”
The remaining four watched as the darkness of the surrounding forest enveloped Torv, the sounds of leaves and branches breaking under his feet growing fainter until only silence remained. Igac seized the opportunity to begin regaling his friends anew on his latest pursuit of Birba and was met with playful ridicule as the other three mocked his bumbling ineptitude with the women of their tribe. The back-and-forth exchange lasted for several minutes, after which they began to realize that Torv had yet to return from his water run.
Igac and the rest scratched their heads and squinted into the darkness beyond, watching and listening for a sign of their missing companion. Suddenly, they heard a *snap* to the northeast. Then another. Then two more. But still no sign of Torv.
“Torv? Sonta, kuda.”
Silence.
“Torv? Sonta gu gu-tawa. Owee?”
*Torvv, sonntah, oweee?*
The four cavemen eyed one another, their faces hardening as they stood up and gathered their rock spears. Igac spoke once more, “Torv. Akita, lom-gom.”
*Torvv, Torvv, lohm-gohm.*
A figure emerged from the darkness and slowly stumbled closer to the cave. Igac tightened his grip on his weapon as he began making out the features of this thing. From a distance, it easily resembled Torv as it perfectly matched his physique. As it grew closer, however, the four cavemen could notice details that were ever so slightly off from their companion. A left eye drooping a little too low, a mouth that hung a little too loosely from the face, a right leg that limped slightly with each step.
“Keega! Neh-gonta! Igac maka-daka keega!” shouted Igac.
*Keegacigacigacigacigacccccccc…*
It was over in the blink of an eye. The gray stone walls of the cave suddenly coated with splotches and chunks of red. The fire snuffed out from the force of meat falling on top of it, plunging the cave into darkness. The sounds of crunching bones and wet chewing echoing from the cave where laughter and joy once reigned supreme.
The figure staggered forth from the cave entrance, wrenching the two spears from its torso and wiping the flecks of blood and flesh from its mouth. A *snap* to its right caused it to whirl its head around. Seeing nothing, it stumbled back into the envelope of the darkness, back to where it was birthed and back to where it would thrive under the cover of night.
But where that last branch had just broken, there sat the young Birba who dared not move an inch from her position, waiting for what felt like hours until she believed the aberration had truly vacated the area. She sprinted southwards, choking back hot tears and sobs. Not daring to look back lest the abomination catch her, ignoring the stinging pain of vines and branches poking at every part of her exposed legs and feet. She had to warn the tribe of the monstrosity that threatened to terrorize them all. She had to. No matter what.
r/williamk9949 | 2020-09-15T12:37:49 | 2020-09-15T12:33:35 | 132 | 21 |
[WP] A pair of twins are cursed with immortality causing them to grow younger or older depending on their proximity to each other. One yearns for death, desperately seeking to get as far from their sibling as possible in the hope they will die of old age. The other does not, and pursues vigorously. | So, I just wrote this on my train ride to work. Forgive me if there’s any autocorrect weirdness.
———————————
Long before you or I ever existed, the world lay in turmoil. Although it was absent of life, the world was far from lifeless; the sky reflected an ashen grey gloom, filled with smoke and ash, the land underfoot permeated liquid fire, forever boiling and hardening. This was no place to raise a family.
A sole figure wanders through sands of glass and blackened crags in search of a home. She had travelled for aeons, fleeing from her dying home for a place to rest her weary head. Now she finds herself stranded far from home and in more danger than she would ever admit, but there was still hope.
Hope - That which keeps us moving in spite of the dangers ahead and behind. Hope - the feeling that at some point things must get better. Hope always finds a way, through the darkest nights if you look to the sky you may still see hope shining down. Hope.
As Hope becomes more exhausted she knows that her time is growing short. Her swollen pregnant belly aches and moves with life teeming to burst forth, but this is no place to raise a family. She must make a choice.
She finds a deep crevasse that’s sheltered from the heat of the liquid fires and she lays down her head. She knows in her heart that this will be the last time she lays down. As she closes her eyes she exhales a great white cloud. The cloud grows larger as it flows forth from this crevasse and as it reaches the surface the heat of the land begins to alter the wisp of mist. It takes shape and form and grows heavy.
Instead of falling from the sky it flies even higher until the cloud bursts, releasing the first rains the earth has ever felt. At the bottom of that dark valley Hope smiles as she closes her eyes. The water cools her skin and she fades into sleep.
Aeons later, the life she carried in her womb swims forth from the oceans. The first child was her only Son, dazzlingly bright and greater than the world itself, he wished only to view this great new world in all of its desolate grandeur. As he rose from the ocean, life followed. Flora and fauna spring forward as if to bask in the glory of this brilliant son, but life was unsustainable as it was and though his brightness brought forth life it was also the demise of every creature that tried to follow in its footsteps.
Behind the son there came a beautiful daughter, much smaller, but perfect in every imperfection. She had not the same wishes as the sun. Though she knew the world was grand she found herself filled with great melancholy, knowing that their mother had sacrificed herself for her great creation. In her sadness she stirred the oceans in darkness, and steeped them with her cool embrace.
She often resented the son for his folly. He had the great gift of creating life, but he could not sustain it, so as he brought myriads of creatures to life he also watched them die. It made him feel powerful and there was nothing she hated more than the unnecessary death that he caused, however, she found that the darkness that followed her could give this life hope so together they wandered for aeons again.
As life flourished the daughter could no longer accept their fate. She seated traveling with her brother. He garnered praise from every living thing, while she was blamed for the death that followed. Knowing not what to do she fled to the sky.
She travelled towards the heavens for thousands of miles, but as she travelled she found herself growing weaker until finally she could travel no further. She thought she would rest amongst the stars and she would be able to close her eyes and fade just as her mother did before her.
The son also began to grow weary and as his sister ran from their home his light dimmed along with the life they created. He knew that he could not live without her, but he could not in good conscience deter her from her wishes.
He had to try though, he needed to do something. What they created was too great to let go. As he travelled towards the heavens himself he felt his strength return and he sensed his sisters resentment.
As she felt the life return to her she grew angry and in her anger the seas swelled and tormented the land, cascading destruction behind the tides. She wanted to live no longer, but could not die with him by her side. As he approached her she stopped him where he was.
“I will not live like this any longer and you will leave me to die. It’s all I’ve ever asked from you, please just grant me this one wish.”
“I cannot live without you,” he replied “I know your wish, but I must live, what we’ve created cannot be allowed to die. I come here not to beg you to live, but to help me sustain that which we’ve created.”
Thinking back on her mother, she wished for death for no other creature. In her sadness she agreed, but on one condition. “You will live far from me, so that I may Rest In Peace. Together from afar we will look down upon that which our mother created for us and you shall never disturb me.”
“But sister, when we grow weak what shall we do then?”
This the sister contemplated for a long while before she spoke. “I will allow you to embrace me only for the sake of the earth, but every fortnight you much relinquish your light from my face to honor the mother that left us this gift.”
At that the joyous sun fled from his sister, and found a spot to rest in the sky. Together they still circle the earth in rest and in wake creating and sustaining the life their mother allowed them to create.
Hope, the sun in the morning. Hope, the moon at night. Hope, the great creator. | I walked into the bar. When I say bar, I use the term charitably. It was more a den with no air-condition, mixing the arid heat outside with the humid stench of sweat and stale beer inside.
She sat at the bar, shoulders hunched and posture weary. The regulars eyed me warily, but I guess her presence has made them a bit more accustomed to the difference in skin color.
A filthy and dented mirror at the far end of the bar showed her reflection to me and probably mine to her. She was beautiful in a sad way, her apparent age somewhere in the muddled thirties. The eyes told her real age though, or at least it did to me. Hers like mine had seen much. Tribes gathering food, the first cities, the fall of Babylon, the Rise of Rome, the bombing of Hiroshima. Humanity at its finest and humanity of its worst, hundreds of loves, myriads of children.
She wanted age, I did not. I loved life, she had grown to despise it. She mourned her dead loved ones and her passed children, I marveled at the miracles I could see and create. in 1812 she began to run away, miles between us translating to years closer to death. And I chased, as it was the only way to live.
I said down next to her. She did not even look my way. We had been here before.
"Hello, Seth", she said in a tired voice. There was no song left in it, and it made me miss the concertos in Vienna.
"Hello yourself. Long time, no see". I tried to keep my voice cheerful, but it was hard to do. I too was tired.
Silence fell then. It was not awkward. Little is when you have known each-other since the dawn of modern man.
She pushed a beer bottle at her side over to me. She had known I was coming. The rush of health when we were close would have alerted her. I unscrewed the cork in silence while I looked at her through the mirror.
"So how long will you keep this up?"
"As long as I have too"
"Why?"
"I do not want to live, Seth. I am tired."
I got angry then. I often did, it was why I made it into the legends and she did not.
"And what about me?" I said. The anger was there. She did not flinch, she had heard it before.
"Have you not lived enough? You have been a god, a ruler, is there really any experiences left? Is there any point to this?"
"The point is to live. Why can you not see that?"
"How many times must I see their errors repeated, how many children must I see die, Seth? Let me go"
Her words hurt. I did care for her. I did not wish her pain. But I was afraid as well. Death scared me. I was not used to it like the rest of humanity since it never applied to me. I needed life, because everything else was darkness.
"Who better equipped to fight that than us?"
"Fight? Fight, Seth? Have you not fought enough? For such a lover of life, how many have you killed?"
"You know what I mean"
She paused then, since she did know. Quarreling was meaningless to us. There was not anything left in any of us that the other did not know to exact detail. That we were so alike in many ways did not change that either.
She took a sip of her beer. Fidgeted with her hair. There was a small streak of gray in it, probably the first she had ever seen. It was a victory of sorts. She had never gotten that far.
"I can't stop running, Seth". She hunched her head then, to hide the tears from the prying mirror.
"I know"
"Why don't you just capture me? Put me in a cell. Live safe?"
"And take away your freedom? An eternity in capture? What would that make me?"
"I do not want this freedom. I get angry because I can't use it to feel better."
I kept silent then. I had heard it before. I also knew what she meant. No being of our age is a stranger to depression.
"I get angry because I have it all, and I look to people who have nothing and I get jealous when they laugh".
"Jealousy was always your weakness, sis"
She laughed at that. "Yeah, I know. They wrote a book about it, quite popular I hear"
"Should have credited you. You would have been on the New York times list"
She sighed. The little spur of happiness gone. She finished her beer and stood up.
"I will always run, Seth"
"And I will always chase you".
She looked at me.
I continued. "And it is just not because of me. I love you".
Sadness filled her eyes, but she remained silent.
I turned towards her. "I will not let you die unhappy".
"I know", she said. Then she walked out into the desert heat.
I sat silent at the bar. The bartender looked at me. His eyes confused. As he should be, not many people understand ancient Akkadian.
I raised a finger. A universal sign. He nodded and brought me a beer. I looked at it as I sat in silence. I felt sad, but I smiled at the mirror. There are too many wonders in the world to be unhappy for long.
| 2018-07-31T00:39:27 | 2018-07-31T00:34:23 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself | I'm nobody's fool.
Tell me to go left, I go right. Offer me what's behind door number 1, you better believe I'm opening door number 2.
Take me to a small room and show me a table covered in food?
Oh, I know what's up.
The food is trash, a diversion.
It's the table. That's the good stuff.
Under the duck l'orange, apple pie, and foie gras, there's a table made of the most succulent, delicious, textured maplewood I've ever seen. And who knows, this wood just might give me the greatest superpower of them all. Dimensional manipulation or something. It's possible. This is the magic 16-year-old teleportation room. In here anything goes.
So I sweep the food off the table and crouch by the corner.
The wood is there in front of me. It's rough. Never been sanded or polished. I can already imagine what all that texture will feel like on my tongue. I just know it's going to be divine.
I brace my hands to either side of the corner, open my mouth wide, and, with a sudden snap like a viper's strike, I bite the wood.
What follows is a pain like nothing I've ever experienced. I'm pretty sure every one of my front teeth has fallen out of my head. I want to cry, but the pain is so bad and my face is so squinched that tears can't make it out of my tear ducts.
I'm in this state of hurt and confusion when the reverse teleportation kicks in and deposits me back at my 16th birthday party. All my friends and family are there. Their eyes go wide when they see me.
Through my tears I ask, "What are you looking at?"
My sister opens a pocket mirror and holds it up to me.
Printed in bright red letters across my forehead are the words:
TABLE-BITING IDIOT
*****
*r/TravisTea* | "What the hell, dude? That table is like 10,000 years old! It's made of a tree that doesn't exist anymore," I heard the sound of a voice and my head immediately snapped around to find it. I still couldn't see the individual in question but I had been made alert.
"What? I was just trying to think outside the box, do I still get a power?"
"Unfortunately, yes. The only criteria is that you take a bite of something in the room. Give me a second," i waited about two minutes. On the table, which really was gorgeous, there had been placed an assortment of food. Simple food, like apples, graham crackers, or bread. Fancy looking food that I didn't know anything about. All on plates that were completely white except for a golden ring around the edge that seemed to be hand painted. To be honest, I really wasn't wanting to bite the table. After an extremely long day of anticipation and then mild panic at 12:01 when I hadn't gone to the room, I was very hungry. Then I heard the voice again, "okay, let's see here, speed, strength, incredibly handsome? No no no. Ah, yes. Okay, here's the deal, punk. Here's your power. Ready?"
"Uh. Yeah?"
"You have the power to, uh... Drum roll, please! Dudududududududu you got the ability to instantly remove the life force of a creature while making it look like an accident. Good luck, have fun,"
Edit: Formatting | 2020-03-19T08:53:04 | 2020-03-19T08:21:44 | 791 | 162 |
[WP] When we finally meet aliens they are very scared and apologetic, they kept mentioning an asteroid a couple million years ago for some reason... | **PHOENIX SUMMIT** *Official meeting notes*
Note - *See Ellen Gould for full attendance figures and roll call*
(Michael Y. Renham, notes)
1. Delegates from **USA**, **Japan**, **Great Britain**, Italy, France, **Russia**, Mexico, **China**, Bulgaria, Germany, Chad, and Brazil are seated. Additional delegates are linked through aud-vis screens. (**Bold** denotes nations designated as *preferential*, AKA "Overlord Nations".)
2. Delegates from Bllllllllllllllo Extraterrestrial Ministry float into chamber; are placed in silicone steam pipes per request. Four delegates are present in the chamber. Approximately 58.5 trillion are also present via telepathic pseudo-link.
3. Roll is taken.
4. Delegate Fernandez (**USA**) makes an opening remark. Remarks include a general welcome to all delegates and a wish for fruitful negotiations.
5. Delegate Illyarovic (**Russia**) reads through the schedule of events. Invites objections from the floor. None are provided. (*Schedule was agreed upon through mediators ahead of the summit.*)
6. Delegate 3.30/54.000 of Bllllllllllllllo Extraterrestrial Ministry offers heartfelt apology.
7. Delegate Fujiwara (**Japan**) requests clarification on apology. Cites newness of relationship with Bllllllllllllllo Extraterrestrial Ministry as area of confusion.
8. Delegate 3.30/54.000 of Bllllllllllllllo Extraterrestrial Ministry withdraws apology. Notes he must have "us" confused with someone else.
9. Delegate Chisholm (Sweden) requests a line reading and possible revision to Section 5 of proposed trade agreement.
10. Delegate Fujiwara requests that they return to the subject of Delegate 3.30/54.000's apology. He cites his own personal edification as reason for follow-up. Wishes to know more about the "act" in question.
11. Delegate Wright (Germany) requests that delegates not badger the Ministry representatives over small errors in communication.
12. Delegate Fujiwara cites our general lack of familiarity with the Bllllllllllllllo Extraterrestrial Ministry as a reasonable cause to seek clarification.
13. Delegate 671.3/784.000 of Bllllllllllllllo Extraterrestrial Ministry notes that Delegate 3.30/54.000 was mistaken and that given the size of the asteroid they released, Earth's ecological and evolutionary trajectories would have been waylaid so deeply as to reduce our highest ascendancy to little more than a blubbering, malformed idiocy, which could clearly not be the present case.
14. Delegate Fernandez requested that Delegate 671.3/784.000 repeat what he said about an asteroid.
15. The Bllllllllllllllo Extraterrestrial Ministry delegates spoke amongst themselves with their translators on mute.
16. Delegate 671.3/784.000 stated that he didn't know what asteroid his fellow delegate was referring to.
17. Delegate Fujiwara recited the broad points of the story laid out by Delegate 671.3/784.000; asked for further details on asteroid, including when "released", where "released", and why "released".
18. Delegate 671.3/784.000 cites presumptive time constraints for all attending delegates and suggests that the schedule be followed as written.
19. Delegate Wright asks Bllllllllllllllo Extraterrestrial Ministry delegates if they have ever shot our planet with an asteroid.
20. Bllllllllllllllo Extraterrestrial Ministry delegates defer question, citing appreciable language gaps.
21. Delegate Wright repeats question, louder.
22. Delegate 3.30/54.000 states that planets are shot with asteroids every day.
23. Delegate 671.3/784.000 reprimands Delegate 3.30/54.000 audibly.
24. Delegate Fernandez asks the Bllllllllllllllo Extraterrestrial Ministry delegates if they have ever - knowingly or unknowingly - done irreparable harm to the Earth.
25. Delegate 3.30/54.000 states his admiration for the paint color used throughout the interior of the chamber.
25. Delegate 671.3/784.000 cites a damaged translator; requests permission to adjourn briefly so he may return to Bllllllllllllllo Extraterrestrial Ministry ship and replace his translator.
26. Delegate Fernandez puts the summit on recess for 30 minutes.
**Summit recess**
*Note - the Bllllllllllllllo Extraterrestrial Ministry ship was seen jumping into particle-warp approximately five minutes before the Summit was scheduled to reconvene. Delegates Fernandez and Illyarovic have agreed that we'll give them 15 minutes to return. Otherwise, the remainder of the day's schedule will be cancelled. No one seems all that hopeful.* | Grigs pulled himself out of his bunk for another day on his galactic patrol mission. He tried his best to put himself in a positive mindset for his day but found it difficult when they all are the same. Grigs and his crew had been sweeping the milky way for what felt like eons to him and every day they scanned more planets, logged them and moved on. Untrue to the Space Academy's propaganda back on his home planet said, space exploration was very, very dull. Grigs stopped by the ship's cafe as he always did on his way to the bridge.
"Mornin' captain!" The inexplicably perky chef called out, "The usual?"
Grigs gave him as much of a smile as he could muster and nodded his head. He pulled out his Grax Phone and browsed reddit while waiting for his meal.
"Here you go captain, Phendraxian eggs, over easy, Frax hash and a coffee as usual."
Grigs thanked the chef and proceeded to his usual spot by the bay window. He plopped his phone down and began to eat while waiting for the gif on his phone to load. He hated that he got assigned to the Milky Way mainly because the reception was dreadful there. After finishing his meal he proceeded to the bridge where he took his seat in the captain’s chair. He pulled up his daily assignment.
*Oh fuck. The Sol system? Isn’t that the one that we accidentally smashed with an asteroid in the Cryx reactor accident?*
Nobody had actually surveyed the damage yet and it wasn’t something that Grigs was particularly excited about either. Nobody really wanted to acknowledge just quite how huge of an effect they may have caused in an uncharted system.
“Captain we have arrived at the Sol system!” Ensign Hark shouted.
“Very well, begin preliminary scans of the outer planets.” Grigs ordered.
A few minutes passed by and the expected red message appeared on the main display:
**NO SIGNS OF LIFE**
“Move on to the inner planets. This system doesn’t seem to have very many we might be able to get another system in today at this rate.” Grigs ordered.
About ready to order the ensign to begin plotting a course to the next system Griggs froze. Big green letters appeared on the main display.
**LIFE SIGNS DETECTED**
*Oh no. There’s life here too? What if they are super pissed about the asteroid? This ship isn’t combat equipped! What if they are more advanced than us?*
Grigs mind raced as he tried to remember the protocols he had learned so long ago in the Academy when the communications officer interrupted his thoughts.
“We have an incoming communication from the 3rd planet in the system sir.”
“Put it through” Grigs replied, his voice noticeably shaken.
“Unidentified vessel, please identify your intentions or we will take hostile measures!” a stern voice proclaimed through the speakers.
“Uh, we are here to scan your system to look for life” Grigs fumbled.
“Unidentified vessel, I repeat identify your intentions or you will be fired upon.”
“Well we, um, we are sorry. Like really really sorry. You know with the asteroid and all of that so uh I guess we are here to apologize.”
“What the hell are they talking about Bill?” came through the speakers muffled as if the speaker had turned away from the microphone, “You really think so?” a bit of ruffling came through and then at full volume again the speaker said “Do you mean to say you had a role to play in the asteroid that hit millions of years ago?”
Grigs almost laughed at this point.
*Millions of years?! Holy shit I think I may have just dodged the universes biggest bullet.*
“Oh, yeah that one. It was a long time ago but we still felt kinda bad about it.” Grigs said with a newly found level of ease in his voice. To his species the accident occurred a week ago so these creatures must have significantly shorter life spans to believe that it was millions of years ago.
“Thank you for your apology.” The voice came through the speakers, “would you be willing to come to our home world to discuss further relations between our species?”
Grigs muted his microphone and barked at his science officer “Pull up the scan information on this planet on the main display!”
**Intelligence rating: 3/10**
“Not worth our time.” Grigs said calmly, “Just plot a course for the next system.”
So they left.
Edit: punctuation. Also please forgive my formatting. | 2016-09-23T21:05:58 | 2016-09-23T20:30:05 | 235 | 51 |
[WP] You, a newly-turned vampire, are thrilled to discover that you CAN eat garlic, walk in sunlight, and see yourself in mirrors, all while being immortal. You are much less thrilled to discover the one major drawback that none of the legends ever got right. | The morning’s golden sunlight spilled into the room from the broken ceiling. Vladimir leapt back, carefully avoiding the thin beam, and pressed himself up against the wall.
“You see,” Montgomery said. “Coming here was a mistake, Vlad.” He ripped a bulb of garlic from the vine that he had slung over his shoulder and rolled it over to the cornered vampire. “You waited too long.”
Vladimir, who watched the approaching ball of garlic with a sense of impending doom, slid sideways along the wall. Shafts of sunlight broke through cracks in the old stone and he did his best to duck under or step over each one.
“What’s done is done, old friend,” Montgomery said as he rolled another bulb of garlic. “I told you countless times that I’m sorry about your daughter. I never meant for any of that to happen. My guys… most of them are competent, but every now and then you get a few knucklehead henchmen and they spoil it for everyone.”
The night fell in quick retreat from the rising sun. Already the temperature had risen several degrees. Vladimir felt the heat as easily as he could smell the rank garlic at his feet. His immortal heart thudded quick as if trying to get as many beats in before it was all over.
“If I could go back,” Montgomery started, with a momentary frown, “I would have never sent them on that mission. You have to believe me, old friend.”
“I do,” Vladimir said. “Tatiana was your niece.”
“Exactly!” Montgomery looked relieved to be believed. “No one grieved more than me. Not like you would know, never being home, always leaving my sister and her daughter to fend for themselves.”
Trapped, with a homicidal, garlic wielding brother-in-law in his way, Vladimir did his best to sound reasonable, despite his growing rage. Through his teeth, he said, “The job took me where it took me. I had no say in where, or how long I’d be away. If I could have done things differently, I would have. And I know you would have too.”
There was a peaceful silence for a minute. Birds began to sing in the far distance, their tweets carried on a slight breeze that whistled through the old, ruined building.
“Thank you,” Montgomery said. “It means a lot that you’ve forgiven me. I… of course can’t let you go.” His face fell as if he really had no control over his actions. He raised his hand and reached inside his jacket. Out came a shining silver cross at the bottom of an emerald rosary. Holding it out toward Vladimir, he said, “It’ll all be over soon.”
Sunlight barred his escape. It was everywhere and growing. The smell of garlic was overpowering. The glimmer on the silver cross made his head split.
“I’ll make this as quick as possible,” Montgomery said as he marched closer.
In his remaining seconds, Vladimir thought of Tatiana. How small she’d been when he’d first held her. The warmth that would spread throughout his entire being every time she smiled up at him, or before she could talk and she would hold out her hand for him to take so she could lead him around their small house.
The cold metal of the cross made Vladimir wince as it was pressed against his forehead. He sucked in full breathe of air.
“That’s weird,” Montgomery said. “You should be… well, I’m not sure, but definitely not alive.”
In the expectation of immense pain, Vladimir had shifted away from his brother-in-law. His right arm was fully engulfed in sunlight. It didn’t hurt. He rubbed his forehead. No pain.
“Does it have to be a certain metal or something?” Montgomery wondered aloud as he inspected the cross.
Vladimir stooped down and retrieved one of the garlic bulbs. The vegetable did nothing but reek and make his nose tingle as if someone had just run a feather underneath. He squeezed it in his palm until it burst into little slivers where they fell to the floor.
“Now wait,” Montgomery began, holding up his hands to Vladimir’s advance. “Wow, stepping right into the sunlight. That doesn’t do anything either. Just… wow! That’s perfect. Perfect luck I’m having right now.”
Vladimir’s hand shot forward in a blur. His fingers tightened around the throat of the man he had long ago considered a friend. Montgomery’s hand beat feebly against Vladimir’s forearms as his face turned red and then purple. The life went out of the mortal’s eyes, and then was gone forever.
A feeling of guilt entered Vladimir's heart. He laid the body down gently. Like he’d worried, avenging his daughter didn’t make him feel any better. The sight of his dead friend only made the heaviness in his chest worse.
He left wishing he hadn’t come.
Later, when he’d returned home, he considered calling Ana. She had wished her brother dead many times since Tatiana’s death. But he knew from recent experience that it would likely only increase her sorrow to learn that he was dead.
Wanting to take his mind off of the night’s events, he turned on his TV and selected the Hulu app. After it took what seemed like half of his eternal life to boot up, he resumed an episode of a show he’d been wanting to get back to.
“Commercials,” Vladimir sighed and waited as the ad-skip timer counted down from five. When it reached zero he pressed down on the remote, but nothing happened. “What?”
He tapped the button again and again, but it wouldn't work. A disclaimer appeared at the bottom: *Operation not available to vampires, undead, or residents of Australia.*
“No…” he said as he fell to his knees. “Oh my god, no…” | When I saw that the wounds on my neck had become small white scars, my heart skipped a beat.
*Please let it be true, please let it be true...* I begged, as I bared my teeth.
The elongated points of my canines proved my hypothesis right: I had become a vampire.
For an eleven-year-old boy, this was a total dream come true.
"MUUUUUUUM!" I yelled, smiling widely to admire my very sharp canines.
"What?" I heard her yell from another room.
"I'M A VAMPIRE!" I bellowed, and snapped my jaws a couple of times. The canines clicked together, and I nearly passed out from the coolness.
"What?" she yelled, and in a few moments, she poked her head into the toilet.
"I'm a vampire! Look at my teeth!" I proclaimed proudly, displaying them.
She ignored them, and instead looked in horror at my pyjamas.
*Mothers.*
"Haven't you changed yet? We're going to be late!"
"Mum," I said impatiently and importantly, "I'm a vampire now. I can't go outdoors during the day. So I guess I'll just have to stay home and play some games on my Switch, right?"
Her lips went into a very thin line, which was always followed by one of the children in our house getting our ass whooped. "Carson, we don't have time for this. Get your hair gelled, and put on that shirt and pants right now."
"But I'm a *vampire*," I insisted, about to tell her about how I got attacked by what I'd thought was a homeless person on my way home from my best friend's house in the wee hours of the morning, after a night of Pokemon. But then I remembered that I'd sneaked out of the house to begin with, and so clamped my mouth shut again.
"If you're a vampire," said my mother, arms akimbo, "then tell me why you have a reflection."
"I - " I blinked, and then looked at the mirror. My stupefied face stared back. "Er-"
"And tell me why the sunlight hasn't blistered your skin or reduced you to smoke," she went on, ferociously pointing towards the skylight, from which golden sunrays poured in, bathing my entire being and doing absolutely nothing but throwing my features into sharp relief.
My mouth opened, but no explanation came to mind.
"And lastly, Carson, you ate garlic toast for breakfast," she said testily. "*Garlic* toast. Please enlighten me, Carson, since when were vampires able to eat *garlic*?"
I gaped at her wordlessly, and she reached forward and gave my ear a sharp tweak.
"That's right, since *never*. So go and get changed, or I'll promise you that the Switch is going to be put under lock and key and you won't be seeing it again for the next month."
And she snapped the bathroom door shut.
I stared in consternstion at the door, and then back in the mirror at the now-healed injuries on my neck. They had definitely been deep gouges when I'd examined them last night; the sort that would take weeks to heal. And yet they were gone.
Something wasn't adding up.
I grabbed Dad's razor from the shelf and, heart banging against my ribs, gave myself a shallow cut. A bead of blood, almost black, oozed out, but even as it rolled down, the cut neatly sealed itself shut, and in its place was a tiny scab. Even as I goggled at it, the scab peeled off to reveal a scar.
There was no doubt about it. I *was* changed. Maybe not a full-out vampire yet, but perhaps I was on my way?
I cautiously put my tongue to the drop of blood, and then made a face. It wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
But there was one last, most important thing left to try.
I barged out of the bathroom, nearly running into my mother ("*Carson!* Why haven't you changed?!"), and charged straight for the silver crucifix we displayed in our hall. Swallowing hard, I lifted a trembling hand towards it.
*Please, please, please.*
My fingers brushed past it.
I felt nothing.
"*Carson!*" hollered Mum from the doorway, and, startled, my hand bumped into the cross, causing it to fall. Instinctively, I reached out to catch it, and then winced, expecting a searing pain in my hand.
But there was only the coolness of the silver against my flesh.
And then my mother strode forward, snatching the cross from me, and I uncurled my fist to see a perfectly unscathed palm.
My shoulders slumped then. The legends got so many things wrong, but it seemed especially cruel and unusual that the inability to touch holy objects, too, they got wrong.
And as my legitimate reason to stay home on Sundays and play Pokemon went up in smoke - the way *I* should have done in sunlight - I dragged my feet towards the bathroom and got changed for Mass. | 2020-10-06T06:57:23 | 2020-10-06T04:11:46 | 1,343 | 223 |
[wp] Humans have the shortest life span in the universe. This is also the reason they are the most feared. | "Admiral, I have a complaint to file at this group meeting." She huffed.
"Proceed captain Louin." The admiral folded his neck tentacles.
"It's about lieutenant Michael ride." Louin puffed her crest in annoyance.
"What did I do this time?" Michael protested, raising his hands up in a fake surrender, rolling his eyes.
"For one as short a lifespan as he, he consistently wastes time copulating with any subordinate who will take him up."
"Ok, come on? Seriously?" Michael dropped his hands to the conference table, shifting his seat back and kicking his boots up on the table. "And this *isn't* wasting time?"
"Put your feet down-" luoin started
"Luoin." The admiral clicked his beak coaxingly. "Mind yourself. I understand you're new here and that you will make mistakes. But you need to recognize this too. Ride, frequency report?"
"I'll be lucky if it's even once a month. It sucks." Michael rubbed the bridge of his nose, "I'm a god damn thirty five year old without seeing a terran in ten, the hell am I supposed to deal with this shit?" He gestured to louin
"You're being a childish boor-"
"Louin, I'm warning you to keep your presence of mind." The admiral chattered. It was a different chatter than before. Less anger. More of something else. "Michael, we'd appreciate you try to keep it discrete if at all possible. Loiun, I will be seeing you after the meeting. Any other points of order? No? Then all are dismissed, save louin."
The room cleared until the admiral sat alone across from the captain. There was a pause as the door closed behind them. The admiral let out a sigh and pulled on his collar.
"Louin, that was highly unprofessional, and damn near speicist." The admiral chattered his beak. "If another event like this happens, I won't be lenient-"
"You shouldn't be lenient toward him-"
"-I won't be lenient towards you." The admiral shuddered. "You've been lucky to have been born only a century ago. Because you have no idea the intergalactic travesty you could have set off with that stunt. I must ask if you have even seen a Terran human in your life before recently?"
"No! Of course not, but to be fair I've never seen a mkkt before either." She politely gestured to him.
"That isn't the point." The admiral grated his beak. "Two hundred fifty years ago I took part in the grand war as a captain and let me tell you, the peace accords were not for the human's sake."
"Oh really?"
"Don't fuck with me. My ship was boarded and my crew was eaten alive by their party." He chattered in the same non-angry way. "If the war had gone on we would have lost the war. You hear me? The humans have a lifespan of approximately one hundred twenty years, they deteriorate after fifty, and become sexually active by sixteen. One year of their lifetime is decades when adjusted against ours!
"When we first shared our technology for veil-ether drives, they asked for two more, when we went to check on them, they had plugged all three together, And yielded near infinite efficiency. They literally eyeballed the math for a decade and thought 'fuck it, may as well!' And it worked, we had to rapidly develop stabilization technology to keep it from imploding into a black hole and we couldn't even turn it off due to interconnectivity! They have maybe three decades where they can reproduce and become-" he shuddered, "irritable in the absence of companionship. So if you truly have a problem with him 'wasting time,' so help me, I may have to assign him to your punishment as retribution."
"That's absurd." Louin grit her teeth, "d-"
"-and when I said the human party are my crew alive..." he chattered his beak in the same way. "I mean it literally. They ate us because we were of similar biology to one of their food sources...calamari they called us."
The admiral tapped his short tentacle to calm himself down. He grabbed a white towel and pressed it under his neck, returning a black ink. He chartered in neurotic terror. Louin's revelation frilled her crest.
"Now get out of my office." The admiral chattered angrily. "I need to change this god awful Terran designed uniform...and my arm is itching again." | "Redran! What are you doing? Get away from that thing!" Blornof said in the highest whisper he could do without waking the sleeping beast. Redran was right over the creature getting ready to touch it.
"Come on Blornof don't be a Rhombus, We've already passed the dare by coming up to it's den. If we touch it we'll be legends" Redran whispered back his hand dangling over it as Blornof shook his head.
"No way man, if you have a death risk. You can feed it by yourself. I'm getting out of here." he whispered back heading for the door as the creature started to grumbled and stir.
Blornof and Redran froze, Redran's 5 legs shaking in fear "Dude, help me. I can't move" he pleaded near silently to his friend as Blornof looked incensed.
"Do you think I can? I should never have let you drag me down here. Who cares if Adrock the Juleball player likes us if we're dead!" he said raising his voice a bit too high as the creature sat up, yawning, it's eyes opening when it spotted the two boys it's pupils shrank as it screamed "Aliens!"
The utterance from the creature got the two boys into action as they ran back into the corridor. However their escape was blocked. 2 other creatures had been awoken by the first's scream, much larger than the one they were fleeing for.
"Oh my Norbla! There's more of them! We're screwed" Blornof yelled as Redran clung close to his friend "Just stay calm, these things have such short life spans, they might drop dead before they reach us" he said trying to reassure him.
"Yeah but that also means they have nothing to lose Redran! These creatures could do anything! They're too unpredictable!" He said as the creatures started closing in on all sides.
The little one had a metal club now, while one of the two larger creatures had what looked like a rudimentary Slug Slinger, aimed at them.
"Oh no...they're armed! They're using tools!" Redran said as Blornof's seven eyes darted around looking for another way out. Spotting a door they could reach, Blornof's suction cups grasped his friend dragging him through it.
"Oh my Norbla Blornof, those creatures. In the few 1/60th Rotations we've been there, have already evolved to use tools! Their short life span allows them grow and learn at an accelerated rate. It's game over man, They'll likely break in here with laser rifles in a few 1/3600 Rotations." Redran said panicking as Blornof slapped him across the face with his right 4 tentacles.
"Don't panic now! You got us into this mess, but I'll get us out look!" Blornof said pointing at a porcelain device nearby.
"An unguarded hyper tube! We're saved!" Redran said embracing his friend as Blornof nodded "You can thank me later let's go" They both stood in the bowl, and pressed the engager.
The tube engaged dragging their amorphous forms into the system, before dumping them out into a large pleasant smelling chamber "That was close. I can see why they warn us about those creatures. Their short life-spans make them terrifying!" Redran said as Blornof nodded.
"Agreed, but we made it through and that's all that matters. Come on let's get out of here."
"Should we let Ardock and the others know we won the bet?" Redran asked as Blornof shook his head
"We don't need to hang out with those losers. They might be varsity julesball players, but did they survive a creature attack?!"
Redran's face lit up "Oh yeah! When the rest of the students at the academy hear about this we'll be legends!"
"Yep, we'll be set for the rest of Higher Education, all 150 orbits of it!" Blornof said slapping tentacles with Redran as they made through the chambers. Proud to have survived a brush with the most dangerous creatures in the galaxy, human beings.
| 2017-10-24T12:25:07 | 2017-10-24T08:31:22 | 25 | 14 |
[WP] Galactic wars are always won by whoever finds the other first – there is simply no way to retaliate fast enough to a carpet bombing from a high orbit. Other civilizations are absolutely terrified of Terrans who are cocky enough to broadcast their presence loud and clear. | “It is the end of your world as you know it. Your organic and scientific advancements will be added to our own. On behalf of the Terran Empire, your world is now ours.”
These are the words which ring out to whichever world the Terrans decide to fall upon. Broadcasting from high orbit, their immense starfighters fill the skies, purposely positioning their vessels between the sun and the planet. Their starfighters, just like their empire, casting long shadows, blackening the ground beneath them.
Every star in the universe dreaded that fateful day. There was no escape, no resistance. Many had tried, the most notable coming from the Wallows from the Neyboune system, they saw the devastation of their neighbouring planets and mounted an assault. A valiant hero named Commander Adam rallied an armada of multiple worlds, an alliance of anti-Terran warriors.
That was over one hundred years ago, the closest anybody ever came to tumbling the Terran Empire.
Until now.
The Alliance had been preparing for decades, organising “The Adam Initiative”. An insurgent plan named after the man who died trying to end the galactic war. The Adam Initiative would be the Alliance’s darkest and most dangerous tactic ever attempted. A plan that would strike at the heart of the Terran Empire, a plan that would make them regret the fateful day they decided to step off of their own world.
For all the talk of organic and scientific advances, the Terrans were a slave to their past. They were hypocrites looking backwards, ignoring a brand new reality of different worlds and diverse populations, and constantly twisting reality to make it fit with their beliefs and religions. A wise man from the Gallant system once said the very powerful and the very stupid have one thing in common. They don’t alter their beliefs to fit the facts, they alter the facts to fit their beliefs.
It was with this knowledge that the Lockheart Initiative was born. The Alliance were hiding in the Dolve System, the system which intelligence had identified as the next the Terran’s would invade. In the Dolve System, the Alliance had hidden a man. A Terran male. A man who would step out of the shadows of the starfighters and make himself known to the Terrans. A man who would attack the Terrans at the object they honour most. Their past.
The man would announce himself as the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End. The man would make himself known as the Terran Messiah, the King of Kings.
The time was now.
“It is the end of your world as you know it. Your organic and scientific advancements will be added to our own. On behalf of the Terran Empire, your world is now ours.”
Showtime… | Advisor Howards barrelled into the room, panting. His full dress uniform was damp with sweat.
"Sir! It's them, again!" he choked out. General Walker's eyes widened, his already pale face finding a way to become even paler.
"The... the Terrans?" the general confirmed. Advisor Howards gave a slight nod.
"What did they send now?"
"A radio message. We just received it 30 minutes ago. They... they just revealed the location of their newest battleship hangar. And the 3 new gem mines they discovered."
General Walker took a deep breath, attempting to keep his composure. "They're taunting us, it's no real threat. I am confident that nothing will develop here," he stated.
He was not, in fact, any confident.
The Terrans were known to be absolutely ruthless towards their enemies. They often targeted weaker planets and colonies and enjoyed mercilessly tearing their world apart.. Their bombers and battleships were of the highest quality, capable of wiping out all life on a planet in just one coordinated strike. The Terrans were also known for their cocky attitude: they often enjoyed sending taunting messages to their next targets.
Earth had never been threatened by the Terrans at all in the last 20 years. Now, with a direct message, General Walker was uneasy.
"Do we send a response, then?" Advisor Howards asked, biting his lip.
General Walker rested his head into his hands. The gruesome memories of when the Terrans obliterated the entire planet of Goralins. The high pitched cackle of the Terran High Lord as he walked past the dead, kicking aside corpses and snorting at destroyed buildings. The countless lives lost at the hands of the Terrans.
Somebody had to stand up to them.
"No. We're not sending a message to the Terrans. Draft an invite to all the other planets in the Galactic Union," General Walker commanded, standing up.
Advisor Howards nodded, scribbling the information down on his notepad.
"Invite them to a meeting discussing the fate of our galaxy and the Terrans. Assemble our armies and weapons," Walker declared.
"We're going to war." | 2021-04-09T06:40:05 | 2021-04-09T06:27:56 | 57 | 29 |
[WP] As a henchman to the Joker, you've now broken the record for the longest surviving employee. This means you'll receive something no one ever has from him: your annual review. | Most people go a whole year without anything interesting going down. Things tend to slow down once you have a 21st birthday, graduate from college, and try to find a job. Then it is just boring old existence until you collect your retirement gift and fade away in some small room that dozens of people before you have died in.
That was not my year at all.
After graduating with my degree, work was hard to find anywhere. I tried Star City, Metropolis, even a high school in Smallville, but sadly no one would take a Bachelor's in Psychology as "enough experience" and I was stuck at Arkham Asylum as a janitor. It was one thing to read about these crime lords and another to see them up close. Ivy's skin almost glows in the dark with just a slight hint of red from her lips, Croc sharpens his claws and teeth on various metal objects around his cell, and seeing Hatter doing puppet shows with his socks is quite entertaining before he starts talking about Alice. But the one man I had yet to see was the Joker.Only the senior staff was allowed near his cell for fear of escape attempts, and it was for good reason. The one night they needed a fill-in I was called for the job. And let the Clown Prince of Crime free.
Something in me that day snapped. My student loans were about to go into default, I was two days from eviction in my apartment, and frankly I was just done with the way my life was going. So I let him out and followed along. For some reason I thought he would kill me right away, but he just laughed and motioned me to follow him. "Come along now, Lassie! We have to blow Timmy out of the well!" and off we went via the emergency exit tunnel. Since then, I have nearly died from various means. Joker Toxin canisters nearly bursting in my face, bullets whizzing by my head as we raided S.T.A.R. Labs for new mind-control technology, and just being near Harley and Joker during one of their little brawls has left men dead or crippled. After a full year, the boss has called me up to his makeshift office at the Ace Chemical plant.
"Well, little Lassie has come home at last! Tell me now, how long has it been since we left the Loony Bin together hand in hand?" He looks at me with his cold grey eyes, waiting for an answer. "I know exactly how long boss, one full year." "Well then Happy New Year old bean!" He pulls a party popper and a kazoo from his jacket and begins playing Auld Lang Syne. "Now! I believe this calls for a review if I am correct! Can't have some busy-body bringing down the company brand now can we? Harley! I need that report on Lassie here post haste!" Harley walks in wearing a pencil skirt, a tight white blouse, and a pair of black cat-eye glasses. Boss always was one for gags. He pulls a pair of reading glasses out for himself and goes over the file. "Hmm, I see you have filled your murder quota for the year, but your basic bedlam and comic mischief is quite low. We'll have to work on that. And the fact that Batman is still alive does not look good for you! So tell me Lassie. Why should I keep you around?"
He pulls a revolver from his jacket, his tailor really should get a raise, and points it at me. I have no feeling as the very real possibility of my death is at the other end of the barrel. I knew exactly the reason why I let him out in the first place. The whole reason for leaving my previous life behind that day I opened his cell. I look him straight in the eyes and answer him.
"Because life is one big joke. You might as well find people to laugh with." The Joker's grin is now a scowl. He looks at Harley and says "Did you hear what this guy has just said to me? I have a gun pointed at his head and he gives me some stupid answer?" He cocks the hammer back, pulls the trigger, and it's a giant flag. "I LOVE THIS GUY! Harley! Leave us at once! We need to discuss new business with our new Vice President Lassie here!" "Okay, Mr. J. Don't forget your lunch with Mr.Freeze today!" "Well, reschedule it, old Frosty Bones can wait!" | "Does chaos excite you? You have been with me for quite some time, after all."
The joker sporadically arose from his misappropriated desk with a tightly gripped fist and an even tighter smile; pacing, the joker began mumbling about the bat, about Gotham, and about nothing at all. His scattered thoughts entrained his body through a series of semi ritualistic smashings and swearings...The hostages, roped away in a solemn corner, watched in despair as their office become a stage for utter insanity. Entirely ignoring his guests, the joker seemed fixated on a mental object of such brilliance and glory that no other purpose in life could ever distract him. He moved with a swiftness and with the certainty that can only be owned by someone with true aspiration. And each of the objects in the room, posed a threat to his vision of his disorder. Yes, in this office in the Joker found himself, each correlated paper and each family photo enraged him. With a half-crooked, toothy smile, the joker slowly unveiled a beautiful silver lighter.. and began toying with the flame.
"You must think me cruel, but I really just want to make you smile. To make everyone smile. Fear - chaos - these are the tools of gods; and when a god tells you to smile, you bow down on your fucking knees and you smile. So bow. No, you won't bow? Admittedly, I would have shot you if you had done so. Cowards bow. Like those worthless drones in the corner. Oh Mr. Joker, let me live they scream!"
And with that, Mr. J hurriedly grabbed the eldest hostage and held the flame up to his weary eyes. In an instant, the lighter erupted with the recognizable bang of a small firearm. The crowd gasped and began to wail and whimper. To the Joker these were sustenance; a vindication of his efforts to mold the world in his image - but to see and to understand the joker is to know that this image is that of only his latest whim, guided by only madness. To survive the joker is to outlive a purposelessness pandora; blood red fire illuminate his way and nothing more. As the crowd assessed the result of Mr. J's latest unloading, they breathed a sigh of relief as they found the old man curled up on the floor, alive, with no injury.
"Don't you see. Without me, these people have no reason to smile. I kill one, two, three... hehehe maybe more. I kill them all. And they're stupid little families cry, boo-hoo-hoo. Pathetic. Look how happy they were now that they see I didn't kill the sad bastard."
And with that Mr. J unloaded five rounds into the back of the old man's skull. Affectioned tears ordained the ground of their stricken manager, whom many considered a dear friend.
"And look how quickly I can take that smile back; if I let them keep it, how will they learn to be grateful? You get it don't you? Yes of course you do.. I did all of these for you, you know. To make you smile. To see if after all this time, I could still make you smile. Isn't it wonderful? That hopelessness in their eyes. The control. Ha what will he do next? Well let me show you.."
And with his biggest gesture yet, Mr. J unwrapped his coat to reveal a massive bomb strapped to his chest.
"Chaos, you see, cannot exempt itself; today I will surprise them all."
A devious smile appeared as the joker pursed his lips; a haunting smile. an absolutely exhilarating smile.
"Today I will give you the honor of being a part of the history that will always inspire more fear and more uncertainty; that will make people smile each day they do not die.."
And in the flash of an eye forty-five people were extinguished brilliantly in a gaudy blast of purple flame and cacophonous auto programmed laughter. | 2016-11-21T09:34:58 | 2016-11-21T02:49:57 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] Upon signing the truce that ended the years long war, the aliens were shocked to find that for humans, death was permanent. | “We hereby call this intergalactic meeting of truce to begin. General Carver will be representing the Human Races of Earth. General Trixthis will be representing the Galactic Alliance of Conquerors.”
Trixthis lumbered into the room. He was greatly upset at having to attend a peace meeting. It just didn’t seem plausible that the humans had bested them. It didn’t help any that the human sized room was barely tall enough for him to fit inside. He sat down across the table from Carver.
Carver was a war torn man who would kill Trixthis if given the chance, but he knew that peace for humanity was far more important. He ran his hand through his short, grey hair and sat down.
“General Trixthis, thank you for meeting with me today. I have taken the liberty to pre prepare a treaty.”
Trixthis grumbled something under his breath, then waved with two of four arms for the man to continue.
“The alliance will be covering all costs of war. You will pay for the rebuilding of human civilizations, as well as compensation for irreversible damage to the ecosystem and humanity as a whole.”
“Yes.” replied Trixthis, “Those are acceptable conditions.”
“Furthermore,” continued Carver, “you will release any human prisoners that you may have, and you will swear to never bring a warship uninvited into human territory.”
“What will we get in return?” asked the Trixthis, the big brute.
“In return? You get nothing in return. You have nearly caused the extinction of the human race. We do not owe the alliance anything!”
“What do you mean by ‘extinction’?” asked Trixthis rather curiously.
General Carver was fuming at this point. “Your first attack on Earth leveled New York City! Millions of citizens died in one fell swoop! I don’t know how things work on your God forsaken planet, but, here on Earth, if a person dies then they are forever gone! There is no coming back, no going on, they are completely and utterly dead!”
Two men rushed forward to hold Carver back, Earth couldn’t afford for this meeting to go awry.
Trixthis couldn’t believe what he was hearing. No species that had the ability to die was able to advance to the level of technology that humans had achieved. He assumed that they were immune to death, just as all other advanced societies were.
“I’m have deep regrets in learning this.” spoke Trixthis solemnly. “The Galactic Alliance of Conquerors has unknowingly broken the Intergalactic Code of War. We will ensure the safe rebuilding of human society. We would also like to bring ambassadors from Earth to speak with the Universal Counsel. We hereby accept the treaty offered.”
Trixthis hated what he was saying, but it was the only hope he’d have of not being executed for war crimes.
The treaty was signed and the invaders left Earth heading back to the center of the universe to report to the counsel. The Earthlings did not rest though. They knew of a whole universe of potential threats, and they would not be caught off guard again. | 'Oh,' said the intergalactic commander, 'Are you rather sure? That just doesn't seem right to me.' The general of the human forces was staring him dead in the eye, trying to stop his curled up, white knuckled fist from resuming the ending war. 'Yes, I am.' 'No, you're having me on! What evolutionary sense does it make for your species to die?'
The Intergalactic Commander slithered down the hall feeling rather dejected. He had always enjoyed the title, 'Master tactician and Commander of the Forces of Light,' but this whole 'Slayer of millions, the ruthless demon commander,' name the humans had given him just wasn't feeling as good. The stress he had adopted during the war and had taken responsibility for was taking a new form that was more difficult to deal with, and just when he thought it was meant to be leaving him. He had to kill ten people before he finally believed the human commander, it was the tears that had swayed him in the end.
Their race usually just transported to a prepared body when they "Died." It had been such a long time since the term had relevance on his home world. He just needed to relax and take his mind of things, he went into the crude quarters the humans had for him, set the tap running, and stuck his head into the weird gelled liquid that filled the basin and started screaming. Truly there was nothing more euphoric and relaxing. He enjoyed clearing the toxins from his body as he entered a state of hyper stress before quickly being induced into a state of calmness.' Now that he had gotten the stress out of his system he felt.... He still felt bad. It took him a while to realise why.
'Aw, if the humans die, then they are finite, a strategic dismantling of the human race would be easy for me.' The long term losses would be costly, humans had weapons that destroyed their environments, but they would recover. And when they did, they could finally claim the secret hidden within the Earth.
-5 years later-
Today, today the Commander of the Forces of Light walked through a mountain of corpses, again, as it had been happening much more frequently recently, the tears flashed in his head. The stress had gotten worse, the detoxifications had stopped helping and he found himself still screaming when he took his head from the gelled liquid. He stood among the bodies, and the secret of the Earth had yet to present itself. He broke down, making a horrid attempt at human tears. Had he only looked within himself, he would have found the secret he long desired, the one that made him cry now. | 2020-06-29T21:04:07 | 2020-06-29T17:15:38 | 123 | 50 |
[WP] All humans are immortal until they find their "soulmate," after which they age regularly. You, however, have been around since the Ice Age... | I am old.
No, that's not the right word.
I am... prehistoric. In my veins runs the blood of the ancients, of the early times. When we would speak with our spears and write with our ashes on stone walls.
I am human, but I remember the others. The Neanderthal, whose existence we snuffed out. The mammoth who we hunted to oblivion. The sabertooth, whose marks I still bear in angry ribbons down my chest.
I have watched quietly as civilization developed. As emperors ruled and fell and rose again. Some ask me when they suspect my age- did you know Alexander? Were you there when Rome fell? Did you watch Newton and his apple?
No, I have no place in history. I have watched in shadow, an outsider, mindful of those who notice me. Always in the margins but never in the text. I don't want to be seen, for I am the observer. It is I who watch the rest.
There are many who are old, waiting to meet the puzzle piece which will allow them their freedom. And it is freedom, after so many millennia. The mortal coil is respite for the wizened soul. There are none as old as I.
I am the last vestige of the old world. Even those who have lost their other half have found another in time. And it takes time. Eventually the world provides a new chance. But never for me.
I am the original sin. I am to be punished, to go through existence forever as penance for my crime.
When I was young and foolhardy I swept through the world with no reserve, killing and taking what I wanted. I would kill men, and take their women, and kill them too. This is sin which can be forgiven, and I am not the only human to ravage with such wanton hedonism.
It was dusk when I found the encampment. She had turned to me, her eyes wide with horror as she shielded herself. They all knew the stories. When she saw me she became suddenly calm, at ease, and I understood. We were to be entwined, she was my missing piece and I was hers. Without hesitation I caved her skull in with a rock. My desire for eternal life was stronger than any soul connection. I was thirsty, for blood and time and life.
In my years alive no one else has yet conquered their own connection. Such a bond should be so binding, so true, that anything else fades away. Perhaps I do not have a soul. Perhaps no heart. Many who know me desire to understand what makes me... tick. They have each been shown the interesting view of their intestines on the floor.
I do not believe I will ever meet my soul mate again, and sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice. These musings never last long. For all these years have never satiated my desire, and so I wander, looking for the thing that will truly make me complete. | What do you think about after millenniums? Sure, a few days go by and you decide to think about that stupid decision you made when you were six or the time you made your mother so worried that she cried. But that goes away. After millenniums, what more is there to think about? Well, then you can only think about what didn't happen. Make up a world entirely your own. So that's what I did. I called it, Iceland.
Iceland is an oxymoron, it's actually quite green. There, you can find all sorts of plants and rummaging animals going about their days. You can jump out and catch them for a meal, or travel out to the coast and catch a meal in the sea. No matter where you go, you are free.
I have a family there. Not my soulmate, but a wife, Noo, she is half my height and her blonde hair loves to dance in the wind. Then there are my two boys, Gur and Mert. They share my dark eyes and long hair. They love to hunt and fish and fight for my attention. It's all in good fun because we love each other and never push our boundaries. Sometimes they ask about the world and I tell them they can never leave. If they leave, they can die and it frightens them so they stay. It makes me happy that we're all together.
Every year we have a great hunt and...
What was that sound?
There's a crashing sound. And a cracking sound. Is... is that daylight?
-----
*"Hello?"*
My vision slows comes back. For once it is not cold. For once, I am warm and not hungry or thirsty.
*"Hello?"* says a young girl, hiding her brown eyes behind some sort of mask on her face.
"What is happening? Where am I?" I ask.
*"Ugh, I guess we should have expected this. Can't expect to have the same language as a ten thousand year old caveman,"* she says and the people around her laugh.
"Why are you laughing?"
*"What should we do, Doctor Kane?"* asks a young man to her side. He is wearing a white sheet of some fabric just like her.
*"Give him some sedative. I'll need some time to decide what's next."*
The young man comes over to me and presses something with some tunnel attached to my arm. I feel funny. I feel light. I.. f... | 2017-05-22T13:02:30 | 2017-05-22T12:55:27 | 50 | 12 |
[WP] After people die, they must answer a riddle, and its difficulty depends on their sins. You've committed genocide. | "It's here."
I looked up from my desk to the tiny blob of light floating above me. "It?" I asked.
"Yes Uriel, it. Destroyer, Betrayer, Kiler. It's finally come here-to face judgement."
I smiled. Azalea was so young. "And to about a third of the humans, she, not it, is hopebringer, Prophet, Hero. Who are we to pick sides?"
"*Uriel*. 16,231,631 deaths. The highest kill count in human history that can be accounted to a single being, How can you possibly think-"
I held up my hand. "Enough. She comes. I will not have us break professionalism in front of a mortal."
"Professionalism, likely the only thing it cares about." I turned to glare at it, but the blob was gone. I sighed. So young.
In a cloud of white, she appeared in front of my desk. She appeared in her early 20s, most mortals did, as it was the age they felt they belonged most in. She wore a plain white robe which just served to highlight her ebony hair Her emerald eyes widened as she puffed into existence, or well, non existence, depending on your perspective. But she collected herself very soon.
"Am I...?"
"Dead, yes," I finished.
She chewed on her lip for a second, looked around, and then nodded. "I don't appear to be being tortured, so I take it I'm not in hell?"
"A bit early to jump to conclusions, Ms. Rodriguez-"
She paled a bit at that and I bore on.
"But regardless that's not how we do things here. You must answer a riddle we pose to you, before Moving On," I said.
She cocked her head, "pardon me, Moving On? Am I not dead?" She said, her brow furrowed.
To think this woman had killed millions.
"Irrelevant," I said with a thump on the desk in front of me, that caused her to jump. "Your first focus is the riddle."
"I'd imagine it's not a knock knock joke?" She said, somehow managing to smile.
God help me, I think I liked this mortal as I found myself smiling back. "Riddles are assigned based on, ah, significance of your life actions."
"Significance," she said with a smirk, "delicately put."
My expression turned somber. "And so, as the representative of the first Afterlife, I present to your riddle," I said, the line is spoken billions of times.
She straightened up in her seat, sensing the formality of the occasion.
"Your riddle is...Was it worth it?"
"What kind of question-"
I held up my hand. "That is for you to know."
The last thing I saw before leaving her alone in that room, was a look of utter, absolute terror. The kind that comes not when facing bullets,swords, assasins or demons, but the most dangerous demons of all - those on the inside: regret and self doubt.
God help her.
***
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) for more of my work
| There was no bright light. No singing angels, nor pits of hell. It was like I woke up from a night's sleep - only I was standing, fully clothed and aware of everything. There was an odd, hum of calm that seemed to surround everything, which was nothing at all. A woman who stood in the nothingness, an emotionless expression on her face. She was fit, but not gaunt; solemn but not sad; quiet, but not quite yet unnerving. She was as average and mousy as they came.
"I am young, I am not gallant. I am old, I am not wise. I am not good, I am evil. What am I?" Her voice could have put me to sleep, had the situation been different.
"Excuse me?" My tone was sharp and I can only imagine the look of utter confusion on my face.
"You have to answer in order to determine your fate," she said with the same unwavering tone. She repeated herself, slower this time. "I am young. I am not gallant. I am old. I am not wise. I am not good. I am evil. What am I?"
"My fate?" I scoffed. "I hate to inform you, but I'm dead. Whatever my fate was has already been decided." I don't know why I felt that's what was going on, but somehow I just knew. It was more of a fact in my bones than a feeling. The woman stared at me entirely too long before answering, as if the additional conversation were a nuisance.
"Yes, you have died. However, you fate is decided by how you answer the question. You are responsible for the deaths of 317 people." She paused, the number lingering in the air. "So, I'll ask again."
"I am young, I am not gallant. I am old, I am not wise. I am not good, I am evil. What am I?" I hated riddles, a stupid waste of time and brain space. I also had no idea what that had to do with those people - no, those animals. I did what needed to be done, judgment was for the weak.
"I have no idea." I really didn't and at this point didn't care to waste any more time on it.
"Are you sure you don't want to think about it any longer?" I saw her left eyebrow arch ever so slightly as she questioned.
"Yes, I'm sure. I told you, I have no idea." She looked down, nodding to herself, processing the answer through some unknown source, though only for a moment.
"I'm sorry, that is incorrect." Her voice was the same as when she first spoke. "The correct answer is you."
I guess it's my time to face judgment now. | 2017-06-02T21:31:31 | 2017-06-02T20:02:08 | 304 | 88 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | "Well Fifth , we have a hard time figuring these guys out ."
Fifth swivels its primary sensory orifices to face Thirty Second "What is so difficult about them that I had to be brought out of stasis?".
"Well they are a primitive species , and we can tell by their transmissions that they seem to want a peaceful meeting." Fifth interrupts "A species capable a generating gravity waves is hardly primitive."
"Well Fifth , thats the thing , they aren't transmitting with gravity waves."
"Then how are we ...."
"They are beaming modulated radio waves at us ...fortunately the shielding held up and we suffered only minor damage."
"They attacked us?"
"Uh no....it seems that they consider radio waves to be harmless....so when we realized that that the pulses were modulated we hooked the modulation decoder to the shielding alarm and presto ... we could hear what they were saying ,they have a simple communication matrix , it only took the translator analogues a few moments to decipher.
"So how are we talking to them if they cant detect gravity waves?"
"I modified our main gun to modulate its frequency the same way and fired it a full power at their capital."
"Oh dear Goddess ...how did they respond?"
"They asked us to turn up the power......."
"... Thats a class seven weapon and they asked to be hit harder?"
"They wanted to know if their signal was strong enough to be heard clearly, I told them under no circumstances were they to increase power....they are already transmitting at a class 9 level, only thing that saved us is that it has a wide spread."
Fifths superior cognitive skills immediately realized that if radio transmitter was used as a communication system a wide spread would be a good thing.
"I see why you woke me....a species immune to radio waves is quite disturbing."
"Thats not why I asked for you , we've been communicating long enough to learn some more and the latest communication .....it scares the goddess out of me."
"What was it"
"We asked them how they were able to survive on a planet with a strong magnetic field......"
"How strong is it ?"
"Approximately 2,000 times higher than a class 20 magnetic bomb."
"Thats....incredible, so how do they do it"
"They didnt understand the question."
Once again Fifths cognitive skills reached the obvious conclusion , Thirty Second hadn't asked for him to decipher the situation ... Thirty Second just needed someone with enough authority to cancel the mission.
"Engage cloak and lets get the hell out of here."
No wonder the last 5 missions to this system failed to return....blown to fine dust by the aliens "communication systems'.
And then ....Fifth had an revelation.
"Thirty Second, have we ever discovered life in an iron rich system before?"
"No Fifth , we havent , I guess this ones going in the history scrolls."
"Thirty Second, you are to erase all record of this mission and bring First , Second and Third out of stasis."
Thirty Second was taken aback, the idea of waking the Goddess herself for a mission that was to be forgotten ?!
And then with a sly smug vibration along his crest Fifth told Thirty Second why.
"They are primitive , that means we have things they desperately need."
"So?"
"These Humans can shorten the war by a thousand years."
| Log: forming clear thoughts before my tribunal hearing which I'm quite sure Is being planned as I write this.
Marshall-Borge De Rosche,
I've never seen damage like this, my fleet looks like it's been in a battle with an asteroid belt.... and lost.
It was a routine resource run, our argon levels were critically low. Probably because a certain researcher insists on searing a hole through every-single-comet that we pass. What information he hopes to garner from this, I have no idea. But, I digress.
A situation handled early, is a problem avoided. So, even though it's generally "against protocol" I decided we would use the gas cloud scrubbers to hopefully siphon some argon from a planet in our immediate vicinity.
Just as a reminder to myself, Raeu and I are going to have a little chat about work ethics and attention to detail once I'm cleared of charges.
In hindsight, "peaceful natives, passive as a narwak" probably meant "we didn't see any explosions during our fly over."
Slacker.
I should have suspected something when I saw a Percerrus frigate on the ice sheets of northern hemisphere, it looked mostly okay, apart from the gaping gnarled hole where the engine room is supposed to be.
I really don't want to write this section.
We were positioned in a spherical spread along the atmospheric limit of the planet.
I gave the order to begin harvesting.
Then we went on with our usual routines.
4 hours later Zyter starts screaming nonsense over the fleet frequency.
His ship goes straight down and splashes into the ocean, we still haven't made contact.
Uly was next, though she was lucky and only lost communications and long term life support systems.
She's currently hiding out in a darkened crater on a nearby satellite. Probably jittering like a lunatic.
Next was my ship, an iron disc about the size of my head smashed the scrubbers. So I withdrew the lines to protect other ships.
I noticed then that there were white plumes spreading out over large patches of undeveloped land.
I blinked and it was over, everything was utterly trashed. A complete disaster, apart from Uly; every captain was either in a pod or dead and Uly was neither reachable nor in a position to be of help to anyone besides herself and her crew.
The clever savages had vaporized water with explosives and launched countless iron discs at my fleet.
I had heard something about a Perccerus fleet that went missing in this sector. I think I solved the mystery.
Seeing as I've got nothing but time on my hands until these little savages decide to reload, or the major rescues my fleet. I am making a judgement call and reclassifying this system in our maps as hazardous territory.
| 2016-03-13T19:37:26 | 2016-03-13T17:43:47 | 59 | 24 |
[WP] Write an upbeat post-apocalyptic tale where life is (for the most part) much better than it was pre-apocalypse. | I find myself growing rather fidgety, I don’t like to be kept waiting around. How hard can it be to find a planet in a telescope? Then again, my dad takes forever to do everything. Finally, I looked up from kicking the rocks to find my dad grinning. He interrupted his sly smile to say, “Scotty come here and look.”
I then swiftly put my eye up to the telescope, to find a blue dot centered in the lens. “That blue dot son, is the place I used to call home. Luckily for you I fled here 40 years ago. Earth is nothing more than a blanket of radiation now, except for a few thousands living in nuclear bunkers. You can thank the Trump revolution for that. While he may have destroyed the world, he motivated us to start something new. Something better. The illusion of democracy is no more, along with the greed and corruption of capitalism. Majority of the people on earth were selfish, and lacked the awareness to see their impact on the world around them.
You see son, on earth heroes were athletes, musicians, soldiers and movie stars. Scientists believe it or not, were the virgins and the ones isolated socially. Very few desired to understand calculus or the physical sciences.“
I then interrupted him, “but dad how did any of earths problems get solved if so little people wanted to be scientists?”
My dad then laughed, looked at me intensely and said, “they didn’t.” | My kids will never read it, but I can distinctly recall a book from before the war written by some French guy centuries ago. I was forced to read it for some class or another and I can’t remember the title to save my life, but I sure as shit remember its ending. I remember how all of the characters settle down on a farm and cultivate their garden.
Now even then I knew exactly what the story was talking about. Working day-to-day, living a simple life focused on hard-work with few complications was the happiest way to live. I thought about doing that sometimes, saying to heck with it and moving out to the countryside. I could never bring myself to do it though; there was always something to draw me back. I couldn’t give up movies, or games, or TV, or this that and the other.
Then the war happened and made the choice for me. Now here I am, spending the days with my kids and the night with my wife, and every once and awhile the thought pops into my head: That damned French guy was on to something after all. | 2016-01-19T22:48:28 | 2016-01-19T21:44:49 | 55 | 35 |
[WP] You rush into a church to stop the love of your life from marrying the wrong person. Not paying attention you barge in yelling "I OBJECT" only to realize it's a funeral. The deceased immediately rises in perfect health. All eyes turn to you | Pedestrians stared at me as I biked down the sidewalk, swerving around mailboxes and fire hydrants. The sun shone down, pressing me to the ground, and the air seemed to form a thick wall in front of me as I pedaled and pedaled past one intersection after another. Braking, I threw my bike to the side, and rushed into a small church, breathing heavily.
Inside the church was another set of double doors, and composing myself for a second, prepared to open them and protest the marriage inside.
Just then, I heard the voice of a priest inside, and I panicked. Pushing open the door, I shouted,
“I object!”
All eyes were on me. The priest who was reading from a book turned and stared at me in disbelief. The figures around him were all in black and appeared to have been crying. I looked at the large black box in the center and froze.
“Oh, I mu-must have had the wr-wrong ad-address”, I stammered, stepping back. I glanced down at a crumpled piece of paper clutched in my hand. The address was right, but perhaps I had the time wrong.
Just then, the funeral coffin opened.
I stepped back even further and hit my head on the double doors behind me. Falling to the ground, I clutched my head in pain.
A figure arose from the coffin. My jaw dropped when I saw Sofia, my love, stand up in the coffin. She turned to me and smiled. Her blood-red lips shone under the candlelight. The hooded figures turned, and the priest closed his book, which had metal clasps and seemed to be bound in leather.
Sofia spoke.
“Don’t worry, you have the right address.”
| Ever since I was a kid, I thought that the church doors were seemingly heavy and large, but today, that didn't stop me from bursting into the room screaming, "I object!"
Everyone suddenly everyone turned to face me, a 100 pair of red eyes glaring right into my soul. I took a deep breath in, preparing to say my declaration of love to the soon-to-be bride when I noticed I wasn't at the wedding, I was at a funeral. *Shit*.
"Shit, I'm sorry. Really. I didn't know what, you see, I thought this was at a wedding," I stammered, "I mean, you must think I am crazy, and I don't blame you. Sorry, I will just leave." I sprinted toward the huge church doors for my quick escape, but they seem to become the heavy doors that I have known all my life. I turned to look at the furious mourners, and I was about to jump out of one of the windows to my left when I saw the priest backing away from the coffin. My eyes followed the priest's eyes and saw a young man rising out of the coffin. An inhuman shriek came from my mouth, and the world turned dark. | 2018-03-17T14:29:31 | 2018-03-17T13:38:06 | 41 | 13 |
[WP] You're immortal, but you can die. Upon your death, however you will be "reset" to age 5 with a perfect memory of each life you've lived before. | The first ten or twenty minutes are the hardest. I've been through it four...no five times and I don't get used to it. Stop looking at me like that! I know you think I'm a sick old man and the meds are making me delusional. Whether you believe me or not we're going to be parting soon. You'll go on and I'll reset. So...what was I saying? Oh yes. The first 10 minutes. The first minute or so is like cutting a tomato with a brand new knife. I don't realize how dull my old knife was until I get a new one. It cuts right through, no effort at all. When I suddenly wake up in a child's brain I just spend the first minute amazed at what I can remember! How fast I can remember it! The memories are so clear and crisp. For perhaps half of the second minute I can't get over my joints and bones. I haven't bent my knee without it making that cracking sound in....goddamn 40 years. Soon it will be brand new again. The mind is a powerful thing. It adapts quickly to this new state of things. In that third minute I'll hear my mother's voice for the first time in 30 years. Not her voice cracked by age. Her young voice like a bell. She'll be calling me down for breakfast and I'll be sitting at the edge of my bed in the distant past wondering how I'm going to keep myself from sobbing uncontrollably as I see my whole family together in the same room again. That's how I'll spend the the last seven of the first 10 minutes. Just trying to keep it together. Trying to make my new muscles move to get down those stairs. I don't think there's a name I could give the feeling that you would understand.
The second 10 minutes I'll think of you and our boys and how I'm never going to see them again. I could find you again, sure. You're a little older than me after all. I'll know where to go and where to look for you and what to say and when. But our boys, well, what I've learned is that it just doesn't work that way. Flip a coin in one life and it's heads, flip it again in the next and it's tails. Having kids is like flipping a million coins at once. It always turns out different.
I'll think on that and my Father will ask me why I'm so quiet this morning. Maybe someday I'll figure out how to answer that.
After a long silence she smiled and said "I know you will."
(edit: removed "1982." Didn't jibe with the description of the narrator.) | “I love you,” Alice said one last time as the world faded to black and one thought raced through my head as neurons died and consciousness slipped away. *Not again. Please not again.*
I was five years old, a little boy running through a field of wheat with the sun shining down on him. A child like that shouldn’t have a care in the world, but the sight of Alice holding my hand as I lay dying in the streets filled my head. *I love you, too.* Words I would never say to her again. Not directly. Six lifetimes I had lived, and each time I moved on to the next life and left everyone behind. Let them heal, let them grow old without me.
You would think that I’d be the one to move on, that with all my time and experience I would have learned to let go. But I was never really the one who had to say goodbyes. Whether it was the same curse that fated me to rebirth - though I knew not what that was - or just rotten luck, I never lived much past thirty. Long enough to love, twice it was long enough to have children, but soon some trick of fate or God would take me from those I loved and leave them alone.
The first time it happened, I didn’t know what was going on. I panicked, tried to contact Rebecca, my first wife. I was a five-year-old boy, though, and however much I knew about our lives together there was no way to explain what had happened. I wrote her letters, even tracked her down after she moved back to her mother’s house, recently a widow herself, and tried her best to raise our son.
Though I didn’t know it at the time, all I had done was convince her that losing me had driven her mad. She threw herself off the lighthouse in Dover three weeks after they put me in the ground.
I don’t get in touch with those I left behind anymore.
Six lives, and countless more to come. *I love you Alice, Goodbye.* I thought one last time, before running home for supper, a yapping grey-and-blue dog trailing behind me. | 2017-05-25T13:17:28 | 2017-05-25T12:17:28 | 1,273 | 243 |
[WP] You're a member of the Z-team. Your team is who they send in when teams A-Y have failed, but that's never happened before. But to everyone's horror, that day just came. | I woke up to the sound of sirens wailing. The airlock leading to my room opened with a quiet hiss. A voice came over the PA system. "Your help is required."
I rolled off my bed, and started putting on the hazard suit. "What's going on?" I asked as I strapped on my rebreather. "We have some kind of monster running around the city. SWAT team couldn't stop it, the thing is bullet-proof. It's covered in some sort of poisonous ooze, Captain Strong is in the hospital from when he tried to grab it and throw it into the sun like usual. Same for every other person we've sent after it. It always has some way to counter them."
"Who else is coming?" I asked as I stepped out into the corridor. "We're sending out everyone with Z-category powers. Corium Kid, Gorgon Gal, and you. At this point, you're still less destructive than bombing the entire city off the face of the earth."
I let out a sigh. Life is hard when you can't even touch a bucket of sand without it bursting into flames. It's a burden having uncontrollable powers, but they are occasionally useful. I adjust my gloves, and head out. As I exit, the voice over the PA says "Good luck, Fluorine Man. We're all counting on you." | *Bzzt Bzzt*
Somewhere under the sea of pizza boxes, soda cans, and a passed out Commander Craig -his phone rang- which wasn't unusual especially since his latest firing, Pizza boy, supposedly was eating customers pies instead of delivering them.
*Bzzt Bzzt Bzzt*
They never called back-to-back. Those bill collector bastards didn't believe in torture... least hopefully they didnt.
Finally having enough, Craig rolled over just a little too far and onto the floor-tipping over a bottle of soda like Rube Goldberg- all over the coffee table- all over the unopened bills- all over the newspaper.
Then the voicemail kicked in:
*Is this thing on? Hello? Alright whoever this is- its time. Its all gone to hell and your our last hope. May God have mercy on us all. Ya happy now!? Get me the hell out of here!*
Well that cant be good | 2022-11-06T22:25:54 | 2022-11-06T17:26:12 | 35 | 21 |
[WP] In 1907 Vienna Academy of Fine Arts rejects Young Adolf Hitler twice and soon after he survives four different assassination attempts by time travellers. Confused Hitler is convinced that its his art is what the world fears.
Inspiration:
http://i.imgur.com/tGV2LFt.jpg | Adolf's mother pushed his long, black bangs out of his eyes for the picture. "You should show your face, honey, it's so beautiful."
The photographer snapped the picture too soon for Adolf to correct his mother's mussing. "Mo-om!" Adolf complained, pushing his mother away while combing his bangs back the way he liked them. "My hair shields my eyes from the pain of the world! You'll never understand me!"
Adolf stormed off and went to write in his little black book with his poems in it. *I dedicate this poem to Freyde, the cute Jewish girl down the street who always turns me down.*
*Swirling cyclones of pain surround*
*My heart in chains, shackle-bound*
*'Freyde' means 'release', never to be found*
*For in my*
His poem was rudely interrupted by another American schoolboy who came charging after him with a gun in hand. "I come from the 1990s!" the boy exclaimed, "to save the world from your tyranny!"
"Shoot me, then!" Adolf challenged him. "Death holds no pain that I've not yet suffered in this life! All I have is my art, my poems, and you even interrupt those!"
Shocked and inspired, the boy returned to his home time in the 1990s.
And that's how emo was born. | Max shook his head firmly. "Adolf, you cannot do this. *Four and a Half Years (of Struggle) Against Lies, Stupidity and Shitty Art Critics* is not only far too wordy, it's flirting with obscene."
"Max," the young man protested, "you of all people know why I chose that title. After my rejection from the Vienna Academy, there were a total of four assassination attempts against me, the final one culminating in my arrest in Bavaria. This is--"
Max waved a hand. "I've heard you, Adolf. I sympathize. But you must trust me. You need something shorter, punchier. The bigger the letters on the cover, the better the sales."
Adolf opened his mouth as though he was about to argue, then closed it. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and then smiled. "Alright Max, you win. What about this: *Meine Kunst*."
| 2014-11-16T16:17:51 | 2014-11-16T14:09:03 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] The alien invaders don’t need to eat or drink. They photosynthesize. Outnumbered, our meager troops have made a last ditch effort: They’re leading them to Alaska, in November. As the sun dips past the horizon, we know it won’t rise for another two months. Oh, how they tables have turned. | The sun was setting but we all knew there was little chance of stopping soon. Now that we were so close to New Washington, we'd been marching well into the night to keep ahead of 'The Swarm' and hopefully reach it in time.
"Last sunset for two months" my buddy Sean says with a chuckle "let's see those f----r's starve!"
From what we understand 'The Swarm' photosynthesizes, that's why we, and most of the other surviving groups we can reach on the radio, are in Alaska. With no sun for the next few months there's really no better place to go out in a blaze of glory. Our leader, General Hastings, says there's enough of us humans at New Washington to finally stop them. He also says the Earth is flat though, so I take his word with a grain or 10 of salt, but at this point I really don't have any other options.
​
"Overturned trailer ahead, General!" a scout's voice rings out . It's not directed at me, but at General Hastings.
​
"Damn!" the General yelled as he pushes past through the knee-high snow on the side of the now empty highway being used by our frostbitten column as we trudge ever Northward.
Calling Hastings a general is a bit of an overstatement, just like calling us an army would be, now that there are only about 150 of us left, but we nevertheless oblige him. Even when we first gathered back in the Spring, when "The Swarm" first landed, and we numbered close to 5,000 we weren't really an army. The real army had been wiped out nearly immediately by that endless, inexorable green tide, that seemed to know exactly where to land and advanced with horrifying speed. No, we were no army. We were a group of accountants, doctors, cashiers, construction workers, housewives,... you get the idea, basically anyone who could walk and shoot a gun.
Its funny, before all this happened Hastings had been the local wackjob, someone you told your kids to steer clear of , but these were no normal times, and his obsession with military history and personal arsenal that could--and in fact did--arm the whole town went from making him an outcast to a lifesaver. He'd gotten us out of some tough spots and frankly it was a miracle there were any of us left to make this trek to Alaska.
"S--" Hastings roared "Its an ambush!"
The silent pines on either side of us suddenly erupted with life, and not the good kind. By the darting light of scores of headlamps I could see long spindly green forms staggering towards us in complete silence.
"Haha look at em'" said Sean , lughing "moving like a bunch of grannies!"
He was right. Whether it was because of the snow, the cold, or the lack of light the monstrosities were moving a lot slower than when we'd last seen them.
My training kicked in as a level my rifle and hit one square in the orb. They really do look a lot like daddy long legs, except for the fact they're around 8 feet tall and will gladly impale you on a three foot spike if they can get close enough....
"Keep moving, Keep moving!" yelled Hastings " there's too many!"
I leveled my rifle and took out another, but already there were 5 more reaching its corpse, to say nothing of the seeming endless swarm hobbling out of the forest.
The rest of the column, Sean and I included, quickly got moving again, firing off to the sides to keep the encroaching hoard at bay.
"Well" said Sean "lets race" | Starving and desperate.
I could almost have pitied the creatures if they hadn’t torn through my troops like piranhas to a carcass, gunning down the lethargic invaders without an ounce of guilt. The bursts of thick yellow blood spraying onto the ground, a temporary mist created with each shot before vanishing into the soil below.
Despite being starved, the invaders refused to give up their charge, continuing to storm the small town of Utqiagvik, Humanity’s last remaining bunker of civilization. Their usual animalistic approach now slowed, many trudging along, desperate to at least kill one of us.
“How many of them are their si-“
A sudden pop cut the words off. I didn’t have the heart to look back, feeling the chemical heat behind me, my hand itching from its warmth. They had got him. Even If they were slow, their weaponry wasn’t.
Poking my head out of the cover spotting the killer, the blue lanky alien grinning, panting as he held up his weapon, he knew his fate; He alerted us to his presence, and didn’t have the energy to fight, it would be a slaughter. Yet he grinned, a look of triumph. Happy to die for his cause, I guess patriotism spreads throughout the universe.
Before he even spotted me, I took my shot; the bullets piercing the one-eyed alien’s chest, another body added to the pile outside of our town’s trenches. Another reminder of how fruitless our attempts at survival were.
No matter how many were killed in this war of attrition, we weren’t even making a dent in their army. Even if their troops couldn’t survive without the sun, they could survive long enough to march up to our trenches after being delivered to the battlefield. I believe the only reason we even still fought was stubbornness, wanting to avenge the fallen before we joined them. I know that’s the only reason I bothered with it all.
In the distance the next wave approached, tired arms forcing my weapon back into position, firing shots at the invaders. A few dropped while the rest continued their zombified shuffle, drawing closer with each second, wordlessly taunting me as I fiddled with my ammo, preparing my next round of shots.
The surrounding troops were in a similar situation, having spent sleepless nights watching the walls with me. We didn’t have the numbers to allow much rest, having to rotate our watch too frequently. I lost count of how many we lost due to sleep deprived hysteria, watching them climb the trenches and run onto the battlefield alone. Those were the worst because you couldn’t look away, having to gaze at the oncoming enemy, while their head exploded.
“We can survive this, just keep fighting.”
A shout rang out. Earlier we would have cheered at such words, but none of us were stupid enough to believe we would survive. Despite being at a disadvantage, their troops continued to march. Perhaps they didn’t know the sun would rise once again, or maybe they didn’t care. Wanting us gone no matter the cost to their wellbeing.
I just pray that the universe will remember our last stand, remember that humanity didn’t give into the invaders.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-04-11T22:42:43 | 2021-04-11T21:30:47 | 296 | 149 |
[WP] There’s a new team of superheroes and a new team of super villains in town. All are completely inept at their jobs. The heroes always fail to save the day but that’s ok because the villains always screw up. The public is mostly unaffected and tolerates the daily almost-drama that unfolds. | Laura cringed. The broken window showered the restaurant in glass shards. Several of the guests cried out in annoyance -- some left, while others complained to the owner -- but Laura just looked at her husband.
"This is happening a lot lately," she said and picked at her food.
Bruce wiped his mouth on a napkin, his graying sideburns and prominent chin emphasizing the hard lines of his face.
"I specifically picked this restaurant because it's so far from... well, anything of importance, really," he said. "We can go somewhere else if you like, dear."
Laura shook her head. "The soup is delicious. And I've never been bothered by a little bit of violence."
A masked man in green spandex rose out of a pile of rubble, his cape flapping behind him.
"Sorry everyone, but we've got a bit of a supervillain-situation on our hands," he said and brushed off his shoulders.
"Excuse me!" Bruce called out. "Why are the villains here?"
"The new power plant... I'm guessing they're trying to blow it up," the hero said and struck a pose. "But worry not, citizen, for the Emerald Lotus is here to save the day!"
Laura rolled her eyes but said nothing. She was too embarrassed for everyone involved to comment. Instead, she tried to block everything out and just focus on the food.
"Are you... sure?" Bruce pressed on, slight annoyance creeping into his voice.
"Ha! Of course," Emerald Lotus said. "I can read them like a deck of cards!"
"That's not even an expression!" Laura said and finally stood up, her fists clenched.
"Don't worry, little lady. I've got this under control." The hero said, a confident smile curling his lips.
"Uh-oh," Bruce said. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. My wife's got quite the temper."
"I've braved many a hurricane in my days," the hero said. "I'll be fine."
"You'll be fine?" Laura said, her eyes dark. "You'll be *fine*?"
"That's what I just--"
"Listen, kid," Laura said. "If the villains hadn't mistaken the new flower shop down the street"--she pointed at the sign that said 'Powel's Plants'--"for the new power plant, then nothing would've been fine! So, wipe that smug smile off your face and fly off to the real power plant. Because, I swear to god, if this city blows up while you're standing here talking..."
The hero glanced at the flower shop and then back at Laura. A soft pink shade colored his cheeks before he shot into the sky and disappeared.
Bruce looked at his wife, her fiery hair burning around her. It was a long time since he'd seen this side of her. It brought back a lot of good memories.
"I know what you're going to say," she said as she sat down again.
Bruce held up his hands. "My mouth hasn't moved."
"But I know what you're thinking."
"Well, they do need some guidance."
"I'm not going back to it... and besides, it wouldn't be fair."
Bruce shrugged. "I might give those villains a few pointers."
"You took an oath when you married me. You're not going back either."
"But they're so incompetent!" Bruce complained. "My pride as a supervillain is suffering."
"Ex-supervillain."
Bruce sighed. "Yes, dear."
***
More stories of mine at r/Lilwa_Dexel | John was standing behind a large window. Outside, among many skyscrapers of the city, the supers were fighting again. With a loud thud, The Falcon, a superhero with wings on his back, collided with the window, just like a bird would. On the rooftop of the neighboring building, John could see the mad scientist Eva Poraat, capable of turning into a cloud of smoke after a freak lab accident, sucked into the AC, screaming in surprise.
As he opened the window to look what was happening outside, he could see Muscleman holding Indestructo, a man who couldn't die of any other reason than old age, and smashing him repeatedly into the pavement, leaving large man-shaped holes in the concrete.
Indestructo was probably the most competent villain of the bunch. However, he was extremely weak and couldn't do any real damage.
Professor E. Vilstein's zeppelin floated into the view. The shrink ray emmitor it was armed with started to glow, and the device was aimed at Muscleman, still smashing Indestructo around.
John always thought it was pretty strange how many villains are scientists.
"Your size won't protect you anymore, you moronic troglodyte!" shouted Muscleman's nemesis Ervin Vilstein from the speakers on the outside of the piloting cabin.
"The popcorn's ready!" shouted John's roommate Jack from the kitchen.
Jack soon arrived at the window, carrying two bowls of popcorn.
"What did I miss?"
"Falcon flew into this very window like some pidgeon, Poraat got sucked into the vents again, and Vilstein is about to test his shrinking ray on Muscleman, who is currently busy damaging the pavement with Indestructo."
"Aww man, I can't believe I missed that."
"Do not worry, I have it recorded"
"Good", said Jack, as he started eating his popcorn, with John soon to follow his example.
Only one thing was missing. As Falcon was about to crash into the same window again, Vilsten's shrink ray started shrinking the zeppelin and the inventor himself, Poraat was currently traveling through ventilation, and Muscleman was still using Indestructo as a club, John started playing The Benny Hill theme on the bluetooth speakers. Now, it was perfect.
In a puff of black smoke, a cloaked skeletal figure suddendly appeared on the street.
"Fear me, puny mortals, for I am ... The Unreaper"
John was worried that for the first time, there is going to be a villain in this city that is dangerous to others, and not just themselves.
Unreaper drew a symbol in the air with his finger, leaving a black misty trail. By this, he summoned a zombie horde, which immediatelly proceeded to attack him. As his booming voice screamed "SCREW THIS!", Unreaper dissapeared again, and without his magic powering them, the zombies all fell dead on the pavement, to be promptly hit by Musclemans new weapon, formerly known as Indestructo.
John and Jack both regretted super fights did not happen more often. | 2018-08-17T15:06:27 | 2018-08-17T13:22:04 | 1,012 | 391 |
[WP] Litigation has gotten so prevalent that everyday conversations are made in legal-speak. Make the mundane impossibly mired in legal-eze. I take no responsibility for your response to this prompt. | **"Social convention dictates that on the occasion of birth-anniversaries, it is a non-optional custom to give gifts. In light of this convention, I have purchased you an appropriately priced bauble. Please sign this limited liability agreement in advance of your receipt of the largesse in question."**
"While your consideration is appreciated, counsel has advised me not to sign or even read any legal documents without first submitting them for her review. With that in mind, I must decline your no doubt generous and thoughtful bibelot."
**"Would it be possible for you to provide me with the contact information of your legal counsel, so that I might present this document to her for approval myself?"**
"I cannot at this time comment on the whereabouts of my alleged legal counsel. Your persistence in this matter might be construed as harassment by a litigiously minded person. I would advise you to tread more carefully in future."
**"One might apologize at a moment like this, but I have been warned by legal experts, that apology and/or shows of contrition can be interpreted as acknowledgements of culpability. One however might also note that the tone of your, assuredly well intentioned, advice, might be read as extortionate or threatening by, as you say, litigiously minded individuals."**
"I will consult counsel before making any more statements at this time."
**"Happy Birthday Mom."** | Kevin didn't ponder anything while he watched the water fall from the cooler into his cup. The door opened and in walked Bob, wearing a coat and a visible headache.
"Good afternoon, Kevin."
"Afternoon, Bob. How's the weather outside?"
"Well, between you, Kevin Cosgrove, and myself, Bob Wheeler, and with no pretense of practical or professional advisory, and with absolutely no guarantee of accuracy, I think it's gonna rain. For the record, this information is based off of personal conjecture - I can feel it in my bones - and has not been verified by the national weather service; ergo, such information should not be considered objective or reliable."
"Well, dang, Bob. I had tentative plans to visit the park with my spouse and children this evening. I'm not going to alter said plans without an official forecast, but I hope your prediction turns out to be inaccurate." | 2015-01-23T23:47:58 | 2015-01-23T23:41:00 | 102 | 15 |
[WP] Every doomsday scenario and apocalypse event occur on the same day. The computers gain malevolent sentience, zombies rise from the graves, aliens come down to wage war... Humans end up sitting back and watching these things destroy one other, completely ignored | Things weren't so bad when the Apocalypse rolled around.
The undead rose, our computers gained sentience, aliens descended, angels and demons descended onto the mortal plain, hell, I personally saw the four riders of the apocalypse ride down I-95 on motorcycles. I guess they stay with the times.
Now you see, almost all of these new threats decided that humanity was the lowest threat. They fought among one another, perceiving each other as the main threat.
There was still chaos of course. While no direct offensives took place against humans, it would have been a waste of resources that could be directed towards actual important battles, there was collateral damage. A *lot* of collateral damage. Most cities now lay in waste as the close quarters environments make for ideal settings for the undead, and the urban cities became AI strongholds. But eventually what was left of humanity moved underground or became nomadic. Life became hard, but we learned to live with it. No one dared fight any of the prime forces lest they swat aside humanity like an annoying fly. We were content to ignored.
We were fools.
After ten years of fighting, some factions rose above the others. The undead did not last long at all, and the aliens dropped some EMP devices in the early years wiping out much of the sentient AI. Various minor factions like sentient dolphins and nature spirits were soon crushed. And with most foes vanishing, our enemies began to turn their attention to us.
The bulk of the remaining three factions: Angels, Aliens and Demons commit most of their resources to fighting each other, but now they have the spares to send them to our strongholds. A single Archangel 2 years ago destroyed the *entire* city of Neo-Paris. No survivors.
That's when we figured out we have to act. We can't fight them directly, not yet. But we have slowly been collecting artifacts. I recovered an alien plasma launcher, another guy I heard actually recovered the red crystals that are used to spawn imps. And we use these to make sure they keep fighting. When one side gains the upper hand, as the demons did when they were planning to launch one of the remaining nuclear warheads at the alien mother-ship, *we* were there to sabotage the effort. When the angels were conducting a massive purging ritual that would shut down the portals to whatever dimensions they came from, *we* disrupted the supply lines, allowing the demon counter-offensive to succeed.
This is what humanity is now. We strike from the shadows, making sure our enemies keep fighting each other. And we wait. We wait as we grow in power slowly but surely, until one day we can emerge from the shadows and strike directly at our enemies who underestimated us.
***
Feedback appreciated! | It's been 12 hours since everything went to hell in a handbasket. Everyone has fled to their homes and the streets are empty.
Well, not quiet.
"Bloody 'ell..." An Australian voice mutters, as the man known only as 'sniper' flicks his eyes from the blue and Silver robots they were sent in to fight to the giant grey Dragon partly encrusted in ice before them.
"I know right!" The young girl beside him said, her...Red pig thing snorting in agreement.
*Elsewhere...*
Two men looked out over a city, where a horde of Aliens was fighting another horde of black clad figures, their forms human but twisted out of proportion.
"It looks like we are not needed." One of the men, a tattooed archer with a clear Japanese accent stated. His companion, a man clad in black and orange armour silently nodded as he dropped his now useless crowbar.
All around The World, it was happening. Heros and saviours summoned by fate or destiny running to the rescue only to find their worst and vilest enemies fighting claw and tooth with others just like them. What was once hailed as the great end of all things slowly petered out to a disappointing end as one by one, the hordes of Aliens and robots and corrupt secret organisations fell not to their designated heros, but to other beasts and monsters just like themselves. A Green clad hero watched helplessly as the mask clad maniac he was meant to be fighting fell helplessly to the blades of a assassin in red and black, a dragon meant to end the world and killable by only one with a dragon soul found his life and soul killed instead by the guns of a team of terrorists and a mad mare Bent on beginning an eternal night found herself up against an army of German spewing soliders armed with strange guns.
Slowly, the fighting grew to a close and an uneasy peace as the remaining disasters were averted or diplomatically settled by others as heros were sent back to where they Came from – beneath mountains, back into a cryogenic sleep or simply disappeared into the wind as mysteriously as they appeared.
And that's how the seven Day war ended, not with heros but by the aggressors. | 2016-10-20T06:27:36 | 2016-10-20T06:02:42 | 92 | 24 |
[WP] Bad news. You’re stuck in a strange and magical world far far from home. Worse news: You aren’t even the chosen one in the prophecy who gets cool powers and a destiny quest. They won’t show up for a few more years. You got here purely by mistake. You have no powers. You’re alone. You must live. | Hello. My name is Thomas. I'm a 29-year-old guy from New York and I am the Hero of Durthel - the capital of Elerland.
I know what you're thinking - *the hell is Elerland? Durthel? Hero?*
Let's start from the beginning.
2 years ago, some, well, *magic*, transported me to Elerland. It's not Earth. I don't know what this place is, but it sure as hell ain't Kansas anymore. It's a land where magic not only exists but flows rather freely - where mages like those of old Earth legends battle demons the size of houses, where fair maidens are fought for, where seeing a unicorn is a symbol of good luck, not a sign of substance abuse.
It's still not quite clear why I am here, but it's safe to say I'm not meant to be. Oh, we've got plenty of arrivals from other dimensions but they're always mighty heroes tasked with a great heroic deed. Not me. I got no powers, no magical sword, no eager squire, nothing. Just woke up in a field one day and after it became clear I was not dreaming, I had to make do. I'm just lucky something allows me to speak the local language as if it was English.
I don't miss home. I was a nobody. An office worker no one cared for. Parents dead. But here? I'm a *legend*. And I know what you might be thinking - *Thomas, you silly bastard, didn't you say you got no powers, quest, anything*? And you'd be correct. I just got my wits and my grit.
And my accounting degree.
Did you know that the banking system in Elerland is immensely dated and simplistic? Or rather, it *was*, before I came and 'innovated' all the things I did on the regular on Earth in my 9-5 job. Under my guidance, accounts were secured, loans provided and collected, investments made and profited. I have transformed Durthel, a painfully average city on the coast into a haven of finance and advancement; a place to which architects, doctors, wise men, engineers, and what have you flock; a place where people from around the world come to have their gold and gems handled because they know their money is not only secure but thriving. Yes, wars happened and other kingdoms tried to barge in and take it, but you know what money can buy?
Mercenaries. Armour. Saboteurs. Supplies. The *good* kind.
I have become a hero to this place. Not because of my strength or skill with a blade or even bravery. Because of my ability to work with numbers. To handle money.
And money makes the world go round. | When Ray went through that portal in his dream, the last thing he expected was to wake up in a strange, unknown house. **This must just be part of the dream**, he thought to himself. **I wonder where this leads to.**
He got out of bed and wandered around the house, looking at the architecture. The ceiling was low, very low. He was a short guy, so he could barely stand up straight, but he did have to hunch down when going through doorways. The walls were really dirty, with vines creeping along the bricks.
**Man, this is one weird dream.** Ray glanced at the toilet, it was just a bucket in a room. Ray laughed and briefly thought about trying it out before dispelling that bad idea quickly.
"H-honey, is that you? Are y-you home early?" A squeaky voice trembled from the kitchen. Ray scratched his head and went toward the voice. "No, do I know you?"
A screech is heard and the shrill ring of metal is heard from the kitchen as a man no taller than 3 feet ran out holding a tiny knife in his hand.
"How did you get in here! What do you want?" The tiny man shouted out, but not before confusion and fear showed itself. "What-what are you, demon!"
"Hey, calm- Ooh!" Before Ray got the chance to explain himself, the man stabbed him in the legs and Ray's world went black.
---
"He just suddenly appeared in my house, he must have broken in. When I confronted him with my dagger in hand, he raised his hands like he was trying to cast a fireball spell! Thanks to this enchanted dagger, I made it out with my life."
Ray slowly rose to consciousness. He saw the same tiny man who stabbed him talking to someone. He tried to scratch his head, only to realise his hands were bound.
"Hey, untie me! Why am I even here?"
"You are here because you broke into someone's house, and attempted to hurt them with fire magic."
"No? What is going on?"
"You have anyone who will bail you out?"
"No?"
"Then I'll get back to you later." | 2022-04-22T00:29:47 | 2022-04-21T21:39:27 | 811 | 27 |
[WP] Your witchcraft professor gave everyone in your class a seemingly impossible task: create your very own spell. When you nervously turned your assignment in, a look of horror spread across professor's face as they read it. You had no idea why. | “Ms. Deidre Johnson. A moment.”
I wasn’t thrilled about staying back. For once, my grade in this class hadn’t been that bad, and I was very motivated to keep it that way. Seeing how Doc Annis was rumored to eat children and all. Great incentive to stick to a diet, that.
She didn’t look hungry. She looked sick. I was close enough to see the edges of her lips, grey under the blue lipstick.
“You’re not in trouble, child. Sit.”
I sat so fast I almost missed the chair.
“Deidre. Did you test the spell before you handed it in?”
Rule number one in practical witchcraft: Practice witchcraft.
But there had been a *Charmed* marathon, so…
“Of course I did,” I said confidently.
She rubbed her eyes. The light sank into her cast-iron nails. They looked sharp.
“I know it doesn’t work,” I hurried on, trying to read her expression and jump from the clues there to the next best lie. “But I figured, everybody else was freaking out about it, and I thought I couldn’t be the only one to turn in something crappy. Um, shitty. Um. Sorry.”
“Ms. Johnson,” Doc Annis said. “You are not the only one to turn in something...shitty. I have been teaching this class for two hundred years, and I assure you, someone of your age cannot quite grasp how low two hundred years worth of desperate students can be. This is, however, an unforgivably sloppy piece of work.”
“Oh.” I said. Her teeth were iron. Sharp, too. I don’t know how I never noticed before.
“And with a disgusting lack of ambition. Look at your classmates. Ms. Kelly Edwards put together a spell to talk to angels, Mr. Morgan Fay has some very interesting diagrams on time dilation--”
“That’s not fair,” I said. “They’re good at this stuff! I’m more of the middle, ok, bottom of the barrel type, people shouldn’t expect too much--”
Doc Annis held up a hand. “*You* wrote a spell to boil water.”
She let the statement sit for a moment.
“My stove really sucks,” I said weakly.
She let that statement sit too.
“Wait, hold on, Kelly and Morgan’s stuff actually worked?”
“It did not. Your location parameter is non-operational.”
“If their stuff didn’t work, then why--”
“Your object differentiation is non-existent, and your power draw function is recursive.” she snapped.
“OK! I didn’t test it! I just scribbled something down on a napkin then wrote it on parchment to make it look pretty! I spent two minutes on it and less brain cells than it takes to open a bag of chips! I’m *sorry*, but I figured there wasn’t any point in spending more effort on something that wasn’t gonna work.”
Her fists clenched on top of her desk, and her nails drew curls of wood from it.
“Ms. Deidre Johnson. You wrote a spell to boil water. You neglected to say where the water would boil, thus making the spell originate at a random point in the globe.”
“But--”
Your spell does not see the difference between salt or fresh or evaporated water. Or the water inside a person.”
“I get it, but--”
“Your spell is made to spread, Deidre, with no way to turn it off.”
I could feel the blood drain from my face. Always thought that was a cliche, but I could really feel the blood moving, and then I couldn’t stop imagining it going hot...
She lifted up the piece of parchment, and ate it, her mouth going impossibly wide. She spoke as she chewed.
“And unlike Morgan or Kelly, Deidre… Your spell *works*.” | I got it online, the spell, a sequence of logographic runes that looked complicated enough, with a few logograms I recognized as conjunctions, so there were at least a few clauses, but not so complicated that my professor would suspect I'd stolen it. From my stolen peeks at other student's scrolls, it was of similar length and grammatical structure to everyone else's spells, but where he glanced at the other's scrolls and waved them away, he asked me to stand in front of his desk while he read mine.
He squinted at my scroll through the lower half of his bifocals and shook his head to refocus a few times before it finally signified. His posture decayed, his shoulders relaxing and rolling in, his upper back bending forward into a slouch, his whole body leaning into his chair's armrests. When the chair started to spin, he tried to stabilize himself with the desk, but his grip was weak. The rest of the class had by then quieted and were staring at our professor splayed out on the floor with the shoulders of his suit coat almost swallowing his head. Because others stood and walked closer, I had an opportunity to recede to the crowd's rear. I did not know if anyone noticed that it was my spell he read.
Someone else, not me, because I didn't do anything and just tried to be small and unnoticeable, fetched Professor Greeves. She herded us into the corner of the room and paced toward the face-down scroll, right next to the body. Through thick purple-tinted glasses, she read the spell and muttered under her breath about the gods and may they have mercy on someone. She asked all of us, "Who turned it in?"
I looked around at every face. All of them faced forward; I was the only one looking around. No one said anything, and I was grateful.
She began to call out numbers. At the top of the scroll I handed in, I wrote the number 24, as in student number 24. As she counted and the students identified themselves, I realized there was no way out. Professor Reeves knew better than to ask for 24. By asking for everyone else, she was going to surround me, and when I was surrounded they would seize me, and when I was seized they would take me, and where they would take me...
I hopped on a desk and leapt across the room for her purple glasses. I ripped them off her face and turned the scroll toward her. I held her eyelids open so she had to read it. She became limp.
There were the other students to take care of. I could not understand the spell as written, which may be why I was immune to it, but I could pronounce the symbols. I inhaled from my diaphragm and pushed out from it, delivering a full-throated incantation into the room, flooding it with the spell. But only half of the class, the better students, fell to the ground. The others remained. The younger boy with braces fixed his eyes on me as he paced, stepping carefully over the bodies of our classmates, toward the fire alarm, then pulled it.
When security arrived, our professor grumbled to them. He struggled himself up from the floor, surveyed the room, and started massaging his temples. It was not, as I feared, a murder spell. Just a knockout one. They expelled me anyway, obviously. | 2021-04-01T19:35:41 | 2021-04-01T19:01:18 | 4,219 | 132 |
[WP] On one hand, you're average at everything. On the other hand, you're average at EVERYTHING. | Being average can be both a curse and a blessing. On one hand, you never really can experience prosperity. I learned this the hard way in highschool when I would wrestle. It never feels good to train your butt off to only come in 5th place in a tournament. After all... No one cares about 5th place. It's only the top three that matter.
Whatever I do, whatever I try I seem to be capable of it. Capable of anything. It truly allows me to explore different areas of life.
I remember when I tried my shot at bodybuilding. After 4 years of training I had a decent physique. Emphasis on decent. Me and a few of my friends started at the same time. 4 years later they look like they are ready to compete in competitions or become models. Meanwhile, I simply look fit. They told my it was my genetics. I knew it was because of my curse.
I'm capable of anything. But I'm not capable of going beyond average. Perfection is a dream to me that I can only loathe.
Art, athletics, studies, popularity. I can only be average. It really takes a toll on you mentally knowing that you can never stand out... You just become background noise.
It led to depression. Which eventually led to drug abuse. I lost my job, family, and interest in life.
I was homeless for 5 years when it happened. I've been living out of my car and taking showers at planet fitness.
Then I saw him.
A young little boy grasped his chest and sat down on the cold granite. I rushed up to him asking if he needed help. He told my he had trouble breathing and that he wasn't feeling good. A crowd gathered, people became worried for him. Then I heard
"DOES ANYONE KNOW CPR"
I've heard of it, but I never tried it. That's when I realize that my curse could actually save this boy's life. I rushed up to him clasp my hands together and start pushing on his chest in a rhytmic pattern. It wasn't the best CPR nor was it the worst. It was average and it got the job done. The ambulance came and commended me. They told me I helped save the boy's life. As they drove off the crowd applauded. I smiled. Maybe being average wasn't so bad. It helped save a life.
Any CPR is good CPR . | “Describe the suspect again”, the detective sighed while putting out his third sigaret. The timid older woman sitting across from him was taken aback. She had told her story at least six times. Minuschka was waiting for her and she had never spent an evening without her little darling purring by her side. Her words sounded uncertain, as if she was starting to doubt what she had seen that day. “Well”, she spoke carefully, “I was waiting in line at the bank when I saw him draw the gun. I was surprised, because who still robs banks these days? The whole ordeal was pointless and frankly unoriginal.”
As she yapped on, the detective could feel the veins in his forehead pulsing with frustration. “A face god damn it, I need a face”, he thought. Every sketch had looked as if it came right out of a 80’s videogame. All they could come up with was a plain face, no recognisable features whatsoever. The robber only stole 10.000 in cash, which wasn’t that spectacular given the bank’s resources. Still, every hour he roamed free was a blight on the name of the corps. They couldn’t even speak of a remarkable effort. At first sight his plan seemed to be thought out well, but there were errors everywhere. It was almost as if he wasn’t very sure of what he was doing.
He took a sip of his coffee. It had tasted like shit when he joined the force, but after seeing the bleakest side of the city for 20 years, he didn’t mind it anymore. His mind started to drift back to those years. The best years of his life he had given. He had crawled through thousands of cases that twisted his soul, so others could live in a slightly less depressing world. And this is what his sacrifice came down to. To be bested by an average Joe. | 2018-10-24T12:47:09 | 2018-10-24T08:19:24 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] You are a nice person, but your superpower is that you instinctively know exactly what to say to someone to crush them. You're very effective in throwing supervillains off their game, but your fellow heroes always feel really uncomfortable watching you work. | "Freeze! Or you'll FREEZE! Ha!"
Staring down the barrel of the freeze ray that Doctor Device was pointing at us,
I couldn't help but notice the unusual amount of detail he'd put into it.
"Wow, that thing looks really well built. Stylish but menacing. Reliable, too. I
counted eight shots so far"--I tipped my head toward the ice still clinging to
the shattered bank vault door--"and it's worked perfectly every time.
Impressive."
The Doctor's face turned red with anger, for some reason, but he hadn't shot us
yet, so Captain Awesome had a last moment to glare at me. "What the hell?" she
harshly whispered. "What kind of sidekick are you? How is complimenting his
weapon supposed to help?"
I shrugged. "I don't think it will help. I think he finally got us this time.
Look at that thing, it's a masterpiece. He's really upped his game. Don't you
think so?"
"Great, so he's finally figured out how to make things that don't blow up in his
face," the Captain growled. "So what?"
Doctor Device was shaking with rage at this point. Strange. Did he just not like
compliments?
"Wait a minute," Captain Awesome muttered, seemingly to herself. "Wasn't the Lab
Rat working on a freeze ray last year?"
Of course. Now it made sense. I looked back at the freeze gun, and my voice was tinged with
pity as I asked, "That isn't one of yours, is it?"
Doctor Device went purple, and I swear I saw actual steam come out of
his ears. Suddenly he smashed the freeze gun into the ground, stepped back, and
dramatically pulled a metal ball from his pocket. It had wires sticking out at
odd angles, a red button on top, and some kind of logo painted on, but the paint
wasn't dry and it left a smear on his lab coat.
"You call THAT a masterpiece? HA!" He shook the little ball, and a wire fell
out. "THIS is a masterpiece. With it, I can freeze the whole CITY! That little
rat's piece of junk"--he sneered, gesturing to the freeze gun on the floor--"was
nothing but a cheap copy!"
He raised his other arm and stabbed a finger down onto the red button. Nothing happened.
He looking down, adjusted a wire, and pressed the button again. This time there was a
faint sparking noise, and some smoke drifted up from the ball. He pressed it
again, and again, slowly sitting on the floor and hunching over the ball as he
repeatedly pressed the button.
Quietly, Captain Awesome walked over and picked up the freeze gun. She can be
pretty rough with the villains sometimes, but this time she just put a hand on
the Doctor's shaking shoulder. "Let's go, doc, time to go to jail. Tell you
what, I'll let you keep working on that on the way."
Doctor Device started crying. | Shit. She couldn't believe it. Which one of her fellow heroes had written it? Her stomach sank. Didn't they understand? She was born with the ability, and had trained through trials and sufferings that many of them could not imagine, no matter how tragic their backstory. The very same power that gave her her abilities to heal, comfort, nurture, were the very ones that gave her the ability to cut the coldest of hearts, those reptilian brained foes who were fluent in the most depraved of psychological warfare, to the core. Her wit, her writ, her wretched tongue could be the deadliest of blades. But oh, the amount of compassion and care it required to wield her weapon.
Her fellow heroes were predominantly male. The gifts they developed, and strengthened, were usually different from hers. Psychic warriors were rarer than even female heroes, and that was saying something. The female lineages had been demonized, and hunted nearly to extinction, although they were now quietly on the rise. Paladins were ALWAYS male, as they required both the gifts of the psychic warrior, and the Herculean one. To have a female Paladin, and one who had descended from Bards, Healers, and Seers to boot? Well, such a thing was never expected. It was a lot for the male heroes to adjust to, she supposed. After all, many of them had descended from Hercules himself, from some forgotten Berserker, from Arthur. She was something rare, and they either feared her, wished to posses and control her, or simply paid her little regard.
She wasn't offended by this. Not really. She was more saddened than anything, although she new it was better this way. Being perceived in such light would protect her, for she didn't want anyone to know the truth; she was a Duality. The very few Dualities that had existed were either ostracized like Lilith and the Morrigan, or purified like Freya and Persephone. Only a fellow Duality could see and understand one as a whole....but such things no longer existed. She was alone in this Realm, and that was that.
She blinked at the words on the screen before her, read them again. Her interest was peaked, and like the Feline that is her other form, she regarded the seemingly harmless, and perhaps concerned?, post before her with curiosity. Her eyes narrowed. Who *are* you, she wondered. She inhaled, closing her eyes, zeroing in on the energy imprint left tangled in the InterWeb. Connection engaged, she began to write her reply....
Edit: typos | 2020-02-25T14:46:46 | 2020-02-25T12:17:21 | 119 | 66 |
[WP] “I’ve always wondered, what’s the scythe for, anyway?” I asked, as Death escorted me to the Underworld. "Protection," he nervously replied.
Credit goes to: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/6imkuw/the_grim_reapers_scythe_isnt_to_harvest_you_its/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app | "So uh… how long until Hell?" We've been walking through a thick forest for what I'm guessing is hours.
"Unfortunate for you, child, we must pass three more of those what you called 'checkpoints'."
Death just looks straight ahead, holding his scythe more and more firm as we walk.
"Hey Mr. Death, sir. I'm just wondering, when you came for me, I thought that you'd chop my head off with your big scythe over there. But you didn't. Why'd you spare me?"
He stopped in his tracks.
"Spare you? My child, I don't use this scythe to punish. This scythe was given to me to protect those I guide, from… from those beings."
I looked around for some "beings" but I don't see anything!
"Mr. Death sir, what beings? We've been alone since you arrived at my house, well, if you count dead bodies then I guess we weren't?"
Death looks at me and waved his scythe above my head.
"Child, for you are pure and innocent, you cannot see the truth of which we walk through."
One. Two. Three.
After the third wave, shadows began to take form around us, the forest started to move and figures moved towards us, faster and faster, these ugly figures of men and women, tried to reach for me.
But, before they could touch me, their hands would burn and they'd run away from the pain.
"Dear child, you're not going to Hell. See those rotting souls trying to grab you? They're the ones who are going to hell, but as long as my scythe is with me, they cannot touch your pure soul. They are jealous of you, they are trying to taint you with their dirt."
Death then waved his scythe above me.
One. Two. Three.
The figures started to morph into the forest, they no longer ran towards us. "You've seen enough, child. You do not need to see more," we then continued to walk.
"We're going through Hell so that you could enter Heaven through the back door. You see, unfortunate children such as yourself have to appear in your parent's trial, to prove them worthy of hell, and to prove that you are innocent. Now," he gave me a handkerchief, "wipe the blood off your forehead, the bullet wound healed hours ago" | "I've always wondered, what's the scythe for anyway? " I asked, as Death escorted me to the Underworld.
​
"Protection," he nervously replied.
​
The black gleaming walls seemed to vibrate and I shuddered as we glided forward. The narrow corridor opened up into a massive cave with torches all around us perched upon sconces shaped eerily like skulls.
​
A shriek filled the chamber and the floor seemed to move. The shadows began to hiss and black snakes began to writhe within the cracks of the stone. Death became fluid and swept the snakes away like a black jellyfish upon the ocean floor.
​
A door now loomed before us where there was once only rock. Two misshapen hollows above it gave it the appearance of a face ready to swallow you whole.
​
Death drew symbols upon the air and the door opened.
​
Stepping through the door the shriek came again and we found ourselves in a room of mirrors.
​
I looked at myself in a mirror. My face was pale, like the fabric of reality could barely remember me. Something peered up and over my shoulder. It was the face of a child that shrieked that same terrible shriek. Death fluttered behind me and I turned to see the creature writhing on the dirt floor. It had the face of a child, with black hair and blue eyes, but it's body... It had the body of a Salamander, a fat salamander, with a thick tail and saggy skin, stubby legs. Death had taken a portion of its face and I could see the eye rolling from within the chunk beside my drifting foot.
​
There is no blood and the remains evaporate into a cold mist that fills the air around us. | 2019-07-15T02:38:05 | 2019-07-15T01:05:09 | 218 | 13 |
[WP]You sold your soul to the Devil some years ago, today he gives it back and says, "I need a favor". | Todd woke up one bright Monday morning and was very surprised to find Satan standing next to his bed. Again.
"What are *you* doing here?" Todd asked, or tried to. In his drowsy state, it came out more like "Wheryoodooinear?"
"Yes, yes, very nice..." the Devil replied absently. Suddenly, the demon leaned forward until his face was only a foot away from Todd's. The man jumped back, startled.
"Whoa! Hey! What's the problem here, man? You have my soul already, I thought the deal was done!"
"Shhhhhhhhh!" Satan glanced over his shoulder nervously, "Do you want the whole damn world to know I'm here? Listen," reaching into a pocket of his dark cloak, the Devil pulled out a small, glowing orb, "I have your soul right here. I'm gonna give it back to you, and in return, you're gonna do a little favor for me. OK?"
"I... what?" Todd replied, bewildered, "You're the ruler of Hell, and I'm just a random baker. What could you possibly need from me?"
Satan sighed, and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "This is going to sound weird, but... I need three dozen glazed donuts, and I need them quickly. Just leave them outside the bakery and I'll pick them up"
Todd, understandably, couldn't think of anything to say to that.
"Come on, come on, will you do it? Will you? Hurry up!" Satan said, agitated.
"Y-you're giving me my s-s-soul back...for donuts?" Todd managed to say.
The Devil rolled his eyes. "You sold me your soul two years ago in exchange for a goddamn *iPhone*. Quit complaining and get over to the shop and bake."
"I...well, I guess it would be nice to have my soul back. I'll get right on that."
Todd climbed out of bed and opened his closet. As he did so, Satan tossed the glowing ball at him, and it faded into his chest. Todd sighed contentedly as a warm feeling flooded through him. Satan turned, and headed for the door.
"Say... one last thing before you go," Todd said, "Why do you need donuts so badly anyway?"
Satan looked over his shoulder and shrugged. "Isn't it obvious? I'm hungry."
The Devil walked out the door, leaving Todd mildly scared, somewhat happy, and incredibly confused. | "What?" I asked, confused by his sudden proposal.
"You heard me," he replied "I have come to give you your soul back, but I need you to do me a favour in return."
I smiled, knowing that he wouldn't like what he was about to hear "I'm afraid that there has been a misunderstanding here, Lucifer. I already have regained my soul."
"What do you mean? There is no way you could-"
"Come on, Luci. Did you really think that I would sell my soul for something as petty and insignificant as never losing a game of chess without an ulterior motive? I know the rules: when you die, you get to challenge the Grim Reaper at a game of your choice. If you win, you get your life - and your soul - back. If you lose, you stay dead. Of course, no one has actually managed to beat Him... until now."
"You have to be lying. The Reaper wouldn't give you back something that you don't own."
I pulled a gun out of my pocket and aimed it at my head. "Why don't you see for yourself?" I said as I pulled the trigger. One quick game of chess later, I was back at my porch. The angry look on his face was most amusing.
"You cheating son of a-"
"Come on, *you* are going to call me out on cheating? You, the one who made Adam and Eve bite on that apple? You, Lord of lies and half blessings? Tell me, how many of the other poor idiots who sold you their souls got to enjoy the things you promised? How many of their wishes did you corrupt and twist until you turned them into unbearable curses?"
"I should send you straight to Hell right now and let you burn there for all of eternity"
"Oh, but you won't. There is a reason why you came to see me of all the people, after all. I think that I am the only person who can do that favour you need, and you seem to need it rather desperately. So, if you can't give my soul back, perhaps I could take yours..." | 2016-06-27T09:11:14 | 2016-06-27T07:31:29 | 148 | 59 |
[WP] In the future Earth is fighting a desperate war against aliens. With no other option, we start to use heavy genetic engineering, effectively making most humans like nightmare monsters. After victory, the unaltered refugees on a secluded planet do not recognize us for humans anymore. | "Photon Eagle Four to Base, coming in hot. Advise," CPT Detriech was screaming into his radio. It would be hilarious to survive the 1,000 Year War, the rebuild of the space program, and the fifteen year journey to OP Base Delta in the far outskirts of the Castro System just to die upon entry into the atmosphere of our New World. I chuckled to myself because some of us deal with stress in completely unhelpful ways.
It was becoming pretty clear that Base was not going to respond or advise and we were going to have to do some slick maneuvers to survive. We'd lost a lot of parts on this voyage. I'm not the ship maintenance tech, so I don't know what parts exactly, but the guy that *is* the ship maintenance tech looks like he is about to throw up, so I am assuming the missing parts are awfully important parts.
I'm not the navigator either. She was killed a few cycles ago by a jealous lover. We're a violent lot. She was kind of a bitch, and I like sitting in her seat, so I don't mourn her loss. Cushy seat, though. Nice.
I guess you could call me a consultant. I'm an expert on all things Human. I'm suppose to ease the transition of our troops, after one thousand years of separation and constant war, back into the humdrum nonsense of human life.
I kind of hate Humans.
But we don't get to choose our jobs. I would have been a Breeder if I had been given a choice. I would have been genetically altered physically. I'd be a lot prettier and I wouldn't have THE WEIGHT OF MY PEOPLE'S FUTURE HAPPINESS ON MY SHOULDERS. I wouldn't have these fucking freckles, either. Asshole scientists couldn't do anything about that?
Lots of alarms are going off. Apparently there's a fire in engines two and three.
I don't know if surviving the crash is going to be all that awesome.
Here's comes the ground. At least we made it home.
_________________________
*Roswell, New Mexico 1947*
"President Truman, sir, they are definitely not human."
| We won. We finally won. At least I think it's still 'we'.. To say we made horrible mistakes during the war would be to easy. Victory had it's price and everybody had to play their part. But are we stil ourselves? During the fighting, the horrors, the bloodshed, we forgot about Eden. We sent humans to that paradise of a planet to colonize it so long ago. A place to start fresh should we finally get swept away by our own corruption and need for war. 'We' found them again. They wish we hadn't..
They were right you know. We should have left them alone. They are the real humans, the last remnent of ourselves. They don't understand why we became wat we became. They see us as monsters. They're right.
In order to win we changed. Our scientists mutated us so we could no longer feel shame or guilt. Our teeth became a sickly shiny white and took up most of our face. Such large mouths no person had ever seen. Our skin took on a strange orange shade, to resist the radiation we were told. Our hair, wat's left of it, became a golden yellow in the strangest shapes you've ever seen.
They called us monsters. They wanted to be left alone. They were right. They didn't recognize us as humans any more. Eden found a new word for us, one that suites the sickly creatures we had became. It doesn't matter though, even after this war earth wil rise again. And we wil keep the people of Eden at bay. A glorious solitude shall be our fate. We wil make earth great again. The humans on Eden can stay there. The Trumps rule earth now. And we're the best! | 2016-06-04T05:34:35 | 2016-06-04T01:24:03 | 59 | 13 |
[WP] Assassinating Earth's planetary delegate turned out much harder than expected. So far, the target has always detected all hitmen sent and alerted his security. This ability of "hearing" the humans possess is quite peculiar. | In retrospect, perhaps the Gaznid should have paid more attention to the shrill, unholy chaos that entered their side-facing cranial orifices.
It was improper of course, for a Gaznid citizen to exist in the waking world without plugging those orifices. That went without saying, for had not the creator made the Universe in silence? Had not the air through which the disturbed waves traveled been among the last of the Holy's creations?
The priests confirmed it. The Great Theocrat confirmed it. The pre-hyperdrive texts confirmed it.
And yet these hairless apes had the temerity not to know.
Il-Ghazin the 3rd, keeper of assassins for this region of space, opened his eye stalks and shook with fury. He signed to his subordinate, "Khazan, tell me truly. Do the humans really walk around with their orifices unplugged and uncovered?"
Khazan nodded, a barely perceptible movement behind the thickness of his sacred mask. His hands were a frantic blur of signs. "Yes, Keeper. There are some among their race who also speak the sacred language," Khazan made a complex gesture, a swipe away from his mouth with both hands that lead towards his heart. "The humans call them 'deaf', but even they go uncovered."
"Disgusting," Il-Ghazin signed. "There is nothing to be done however, the Great Theocrat has decreed it. Send another assassin."
"And the last one? The one who failed?"
Il-Ghazin made a negligent wave of the hand, not truly a word. "Cut off his hands. Then attempt to make contact with these 'deaf.' Teach them the holy language, perhaps we can make use of them."
Khazan bowed low, backing out of the office.
Now alone, Il-Ghazin reached up slowly and removed the orifice coverings and plugs. The world howled at him in a bitter, unholy cacophony. He rammed them back in a second later, deafening himself to it all.
There were always more assassins, but there was only one afterlife. He'd keep sending them, that was all there was to do.
In a basement not far away a man screamed as he watched his hands fall away. Not a soul heard it.
------
r/TurningtoWords | 57:81 - "Thla 14 has successfully penetrated the *Missionary*'s anti-gravity sphere"
"T14 you are cleared to engage upon sight of target. *Jashfaak*"
"Thanks, we're going to need it."
Zulthai Bron closed the telelink and opened the tactical feed in their ring visor.
Zulthai scanned the room, motionless, as the rest of the team fanned out to secure the entrances.
Uonoel, Eyj, and AAAAA sent green codes to Zulthai's visor. "Good, they haven't detected us yet."
"Data feeds show the door on the left of the room to be the fastest path to the dignitaries corridor, we have to move fast before they detect us. Double Time." Zulthai blurted out over telelink to the other three.
The four went sprinting on four legs down the metal corridor, maintaining alert awareness with their 360\* vision.
"Hey look at this idiot over here!" Eyj spurted on the tele. "He can't see my heat signature through the wall! Are we sure we have to be so careful?"
"Keep moving and don't under estimate them"
Eyj still focused on the man neglected to pay attention the hydraulic fluid on the floor. Eyj was sent careening into a storage of gas canisters.
​
Just then the door burst open.
"THE HUMANS HAVE LOCATED US!!!!!!!!! ABORT ABORT!!!!!" Zulthai blasted over the telelink "WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!!!! HOW THE HROSK DID THEY FIND US?"
But it was too late. The auto sentry turrets were activated and our brave assassins were turned into swiss cheese.
The colonization of the Quaperi continues. | 2021-03-18T09:52:42 | 2021-03-18T09:47:43 | 610 | 163 |
[WP] You've been in the queue for two and a half years now. You gave up your job, your relationship... everything. You don't know what's through the Rift but the call of it was too strong to ignore. You're getting near the front and now and you're constantly bombarded with bribes by rich elites...
First time trying to submit a writing prompt. Sorry for not getting it mods. Hopefully I'll cop on eventually 😂 | For 2 years now I’ve been stuck in line my life wasted many have tried but none succeeded. They all walked in one side and exited the other like it was a fancy door. I was next many elites tried to pay me to get the “riches” on the other side if I passed. I refused all. Many years ago when I first heard about it I was drawn.
I had a massive crush on this girl in one of my classes and found out she would be in another one of my classes next year. I needed to decide quickly. I choose the rift who know what could be on the other side. Finally my turn I enter the rift thinking about her.
I enter.
I walk out the other side it was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I meet a man standing at a gate he said “you passed no need to ask questions. Your life can be at ease knowing you’ve made it.”
“Where am I?” I reply
“Well my child you are in the after life.”
“Wait I’m dead!”
“No no. You merely passed a task that many don’t. Now that you have passed you have 2 options. Return to Earth or stay here and enjoy everlasting peace.”
“Earth or peace those are my only options?”
“Well I suppose since you are the first I could make an exception. You can have one thing from Earth you want if you stay.”
“Can I communicate with someone from earth to discuss this matter.”
“I suppose you could. Who do you want to talk to?”
“My Crush.”
“Oh ok. Well here’s a line to Earth.”
I grab the phone “hey”
“Yah”
“I have a question for you.”
“Sure what is it?”
“Do you want to join me in everlasting peace?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know the rift that I was drawn to.”
“Yah. What about it.”
“Well I got threw it and ended up in an afterlife, and since I’m the first to make it the man said I could have one thing from Earth if I stay.”
“Wait I’m confused a man said you where in the afterlife and that you could one thing and you call me.”
“Well I was wondering do you want to be able to come enjoy this with me I had and still have a giant crush on you.”
“Then why did you leave cause I was starting to like you a bit more.”
“Well I felt like I needed to do this. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
“No no, I’m just pulling your leg it would be an honor to get invited.”
“Ok see you in a bit.”
I give the phone back to the man. “ I want my crush to be here with me.”
“Well crap. I made a deal so I’ll beam her up and you two can enjoy paradise.”
“Thank you so much... what’s your name?”
“Ohh you can call me Lucifer.”
(If you liked this please consider checking out more of my writings at r/PennPandaWrites
If you wish to read part 2 please click [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/PennPandaWrites/comments/gqheaz/the_rift_part_2/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) it’s a prequel). | Sometimes, I thought it wasn't gonna be worth it. That this was all some... joke, I guess? Another cosmic "fuck you" directed at me. That I'd gone crazy.
But the Rift is real. And I'm getting so close.
Honestly, it's luck that's gotten me this far. Samantha thought it was fake, thought I was a dumbass. Told me to go fuck myself the day I moved out. Well, here I am. Who's the dumbass now, Sam?
Thought about skipping. I know that sounds dumb, but... All these people. *All these people.* You gotta understand that waiting in line this long wasn't easy. But seeing what happened to those guys that left the line... nah. I'll take my chances with the Rift.
And soon, I'll take that chance. Another day, another call from some stuck up CEO trying to take my place. Trying to hire me to take a camera with me and work for them. Trying to turn a profit. That's how I know I'm onto something. If those greedy bastards think it's a goldmine, then it's a fuckin' goldmine.
I just wish I brought a damn coat. It's getting so cold now, even in June. The Rift just has this... air about it. We can't see through the other side, but the wind that's comin' through right now? Fuck me, it is cold. The kinda wind that bites into your skin and makes you feel like it's gonna start to crack and shatter like glass.
There's only two more people ahead of me now. Only two more to enter before I'm up. In two days, I'll enter the Rift, and I'm gonna rule the world. Everyone's getting real antsy now. Some people are thinking about turning back. Hell, some people have. Fools, all of 'em. Who'd pass up something like this? A massive Rift appears with a built-in staircase, automated security, and food service, and these idiots wanna turn away. Whatever.
More for me.
I'm here. I'm about to go in. Midnight comes in three... two... one. Breathe deep now, man. You've earned it.
Bones..? No, no, no, NO, **NO! NOOOOO!** What is this?! What the hell is this?! Nononono, where'd the Rift go? Where is it?! Where are those assholes with the white suits?! Where are you?! I WANT A REFUND, YOU PRICKS! YOU HEAR ME?! A REFUND! COME BACK!
​
(Hopefully you liked this story! If you did, feel free to check out my humble community at: r/SUPRAPStories) | 2020-05-24T16:13:08 | 2020-05-24T15:15:51 | 20 | 13 |
[WP]If you murder someone, your jail sentence is as long as their remaining life would have been. | "I plead guilty, Your Honor," I told the courtroom, earning gasps and whispers. "I killed her. Six milligrams of Aconitum directly into her left arm."
"Well, I suppose I should thank your honesty. That saves us some time-"
"What kind of sick bastard murders his own sister?" a voice cut in from the crowd. Several others booed and jeered alongside him.
"It was peaceful, and quiet. She didn't hurt at all," I responded meekly, staring at the floor.
"She was twelve! Come on, judge, sentence him already. Gotta be at least seventy years, right? Lock this psychopath away for good."
I tried to maintain control, but images of that little girl dying before my eyes were burned into my mind. I could feel the warmth on my cheeks, taste the saltiness in my mouth, and knew I was a mess.
"Order! Well, as per law, I hereby sentence you to prison for the amount of time left in the victim's life. Let's see, here..." The judge flipped through several documents, muttering to himself, the paused and took his glasses off.
I was shaking, bawling like a lost child, thinking of my sister and how I'd erased her beautiful smile from the world forever.
With a deep sigh, the judge continued his sentencing. "Three months."
--------
*thanks for reading! if you'd like to see more of my work, check out /r/resonatingfury* | Beep...beep...beep...beep...beeeeeeeeeeeeeep...
Sheathing my wire cutters, I calmly walked out of room 209 and resumed mopping the east hallway. Soon after, several doctors wheeled a crash cart into the room in a desperate attempt to save the man's life. They won't save him, they never do. I've been working as a janitor at St.Mary's for over 20 years now, and yet no one has caught on to my little scheme. Back in the day, a murderer just gained a victim's remaining years, but with all this fancy technology unnaturally extending people's lifespans, every time I pull the plug I gain the lifespan of the machines they're hooked up to. Since all them machines last quite a lot longer than people, I figure I'm gonna live another millennium if I keep it up. Speaking of which, I think I'll start mopping the hallway outside the coma ward next. | 2016-05-29T08:24:25 | 2016-05-29T08:17:02 | 802 | 16 |
[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. | "You see it? That is what I crave. The Rajpank of Avoothenkor."
"That's what you want? That's why I'm here?"
"With that I could rule this World. But I cannot have it, for it is not mine."
"So there's guards, cameras, lasers? What's the deal?"
"I don't understand."
"What's guarding it? You know, the security? I don't want to get roughed up or arrested or anything." I could see his confusion. "What's to stop you taking it?"
"I cannot take it. It is not mine."
Was that anger in his voice? They're all so weird and calm around here I just didn't know.
I stepped forward. Nothing. Looked around, reached out a hand, another look. What the fuck is up with this place? I passed the rock to my new friend.
"There you go."
"How did you do that?"
"Like this" I grabbed the rock from him, tossed it in the air a couple of times and then passed it back.
"God forgive me. What Stygian power is this? By what demonic force, by what heaven banished treachery do you control the fates of man and mete out of this global dominion with the ease and abandon of a careless god? What have I done? Have I gained so much and lost myself? No, their praise shall be my balm and my power the tonic to ease the pains of my troubled soul."
"Well, good luck with that and everything, but this place is freaking me out. When can you send me back? You said you'd send me back when we were done."
"Yes. But I may have need of your powers in the future. Here, take this as a sign of my gratitude." He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small round orange object and handed it to me.
With a faint pop I was back at Cheryl's retirement party. Steve noticed me appear in a corner. "Hey," he asked, "where'd you get that orange?" | "Where am I?"
This was Emmett's first thought upon appearing in a room only lit by candlelight. He had previously been mowing his back yard, and his eyes had not adjusted to the dimness. His second thought quickly followed his first.
"I've got to puke." He vomited, extinguishing two of the five candles surrounding him. He heard an exclamation, not of anger but possibly surprise come from behind him. Wiping his mouth on his arm he turned around.
"Hail, uh demon. I have summoned you here to exact revenge on my enemies." The man was wrapped in beige cloth, he held a knarled stick in one hand, a halved onion in the other.
Emmett threw up again. He hated onions, but really his stomach was reeling from whatever summoning he had just gone through.
"Demon?" Emmett said, hands on his knees. "Do I look like a demon to you?"
The onion halver looked puzzled. He looked down at his onion, then back at Emmett.
"My incantations were made to call forth a fiery demon, one who cuts down uncountable lives and wields a poisonous burn!"
Emmett sighed. He ran his fingers through his red hair.
"Look dude, I was trying to mow my lawn and spray a little weed killer. I'm not a demon that can 'destroy your enemies'."
"But what of your red skin?"
"Oh shit, I forgot sunscreen." | 2017-05-12T09:20:50 | 2017-05-12T08:05:29 | 99 | 21 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in Valhalla, where all great warriors go when they die. However, you never fought a day in your life. You try to find out why you're there. | Deirdre opened her eyes as if she was waking from a great sleep. She sat up with a great stretch, realizing that her body had none of it's usual aches and pains. Before her lay a spectacular view of a golden castle atop a soft white mountain. A waterfall tumbled out of a trellis in the court, scattering rainbows over the magnificent bridge before her. She rose to her feet in shock, her mouth a gaped. A hearty chuckle startled her out of her reverie.
"Aye, it is rather breath-taking the first time, isn't it?" Deirdre stared in shock at the massive man beside her. His bushy red beard shock as he spoke, "Welcome to Valhalla, Miss."
Deirdre started to shake a finger at him, to tell him no one had called her "Miss" in a great many years, when she noticed how young her hand looked, devoid of the wrinkles and callouses she'd gotten used to. She glanced down to see she had the figure she'd had as a young girl, all legs and gangly arm, dressed in a soft, flowing gown of yellow.
"I don't understand, where am I?" She asked incredulously. The man shifted his great battle axe to his other hand, offering an arm to Deirdre.
"As I said, you're in Valhalla, the eternal resting place of all great warriors." Deirdre scoffed.
"Warrior? I'm no warrior, I never fought a day of my life." The gatekeeper smiled as he set off across the bridge towards the gleaming castle in the distance.
"Oh no?"
Deirdre shook her head. "Never."
"Not even when your father was in one of his rages?"
"Not even then. I used to let the pathetic old man beat me so he wouldn't hurt my sisters or mother." Deirdre clenched a fist on her free hand as she recalled the memory. The old man nodded sagely.
"What happened to him?"
"I called the cops on him one day, when he was going after my mother. I thought they could protect us. But they couldn't. They let him go a day later, and then he killed her. But I still didn't fight him. After the police came that day, I took my sisters and ran away."
"Why did you run?" The man encouraged. Deirdre frowned.
"I couldn't trust the police to not put us back with him, or his family. They let us down once already, I wouldn't let them let me down again. I thought I could do better myself." She laughed ruefully. "I was a dumb teen, what did I know about taking care of three kids myself?"
"So then did you fail?"
"It felt like it." She said, "No one wanted to hire a teenaged girl back then. I must have asked every store on my block fifteen times for a job before one barber decided to take pity on me. Mr Johnson was a good man, even if he did have some thoughts on where a woman's place was. We went back and forth quite a bit on that one. I like to think I convinced him through example, eventually."
The bridge still stretched out before Deirdre as she walked arm in arm with the man. She caught a glimpse of herself in the gleaming silver post of the bridge. She thought she looked older now, more filled out. The tall warrior glanced over.
"There was a war a bit later, wasn't there?" He said. Deirdre nodded.
"Of course, but I didn't fight in it. There wouldn't have been anyone left to support Jenny, Anne and Poppy. But then the barber shop had to close up. I eventually signed on as a nurse. Jenny was old enough by then, I sent all the money back to her. When I came back, I tried to become a proper doctor. I just didn't want to see anyone hurt anymore. But then I met Johnathon, and little Robbie was born, and well, the fuss was just too much in medical school. I went back to nursing so I could raise him."
"And did that go smoothly?" Deirdre frowned.
"Well, not really. Johnathon... was a jealous man. I guess he thought when we married, I would stop working. Instead, he got laid off and I had to support us both. He didn't much like that. When he started drinking I had to leave again."
As the pair reached the end of the bridge, Deirdre turned on the man. In the mirrored gleam of the castle, she saw herself standing there as a matured woman. "I don't understand what this has to do with anything, this was all years ago. I lived a full, complete life but I never fought anyone. I'm not a deserving warrior."
The man smiled at her as the gates opened.
"On the contrary, Deirdre, you've been fighting all your life. You just knew which battles to turn away from." | Gates of iron loomed beyond the fields of the fallen. Through the fog, all that could be discerned was the black silhouette of spears and arrow shafts standing against a grey mist. The whole thing was pretty spooky, if you get my point.
"Hello? Is... is anyone there?" My voice sounded like a little girl's. Luckily, no one heard, or at least no one answered. The field was desolate, but the gate seemed to pull me toward it. I stepped forward tentatively, watching footsteps as I passed by broken shields and discarded weapons.
The first corpses I saw were sprawled together, spelling out the battle that had ended their lives. A viking lay on his back, his hands grasping the katana that plunged through his chest. Its weilder appeared to be the samurai beside him, a stray arrow poking out from the thin gap between his chestplate and helmet. The viking had vomited a little blood as he died. I vomited a little vomit as I hurried walked on.
Other corpses adorned the field. A battalion of American WWII soldiers had been beheaded, but around their tank were twice as many Spartan hoplites, their shields badly dented by artillery. A Roman Legion appeared to have stumbled into traps, like the kind the Viet Cong left around in the Rambo movies, but not before they put javelins through a gang of 1920s mobsters. The worst was the dismembered knights. I could only tell that they *were* knights because dented bits of their shining armor glistened beside the bloody pulp of their entrails. More than a few scalps had been taken.
I began to hurry toward the gate, eager to get out of that damnable field, but as my walk turned into a flailing run I heard a low rumbling in the distance. I hurried, but the closer I got the louder it grew, until I could make out war-whoops and bugles over the thunder of hooves. Just as the sound grew loudest, I felt my feet catch on something, and the next thing I knew I sat face-down in some mud made of dirt and significantly more blood than I am comfortable with. I cocked my head to see a net around my feet as my attackers slowed to a halt.
"Please... Please don't kill me..." I sounded pathetic, tears and gagging interrupting my feeble voice. They burst into laughter. I could feel my gut sinking, but somehow I kept my bowels from loosening.
"No worries, kid. We already won. Today at least. You must be new." A silhouette- no an African man- hopped off his horse and stooped over to untie my legs. "Jack Johnson. The boxer," he introduced, a cocksure grin disarm the fear that had paralyzed me a moment ago. "Welcome to Valhalla, eternal home of history's greatest warriors."
"Wait, what?" The fear was gone; confusion racked my head now. "I'm not a warrior, I hate fighting. Why... why am I... Oh, what is going *on*?"
A young girl in some kind of crusader's garb looked around, with a puzzled stare on her face. Her lightly-accented voice spoke to me. "Are you a squire? Perhaps your dead master has requested his servant."
A soft voiced Conquistador chuckled. "Sweet Joan of Arc, if my squire were such a coward, I've have him castrated, not brought to the Hall of Odin. Tell us truth, craven, what could have brought you here?"
"I... I don't know. I'm not a warrior, or a medic, or any kind of squire. The closest I ever got to a fight was whenever some drunks got too rowdy in my bar."
"Your bar?" A pot-bellied viking stared at me, drool practically frothing behind his thick red beard. "Say, Jack, wasn't another brewer coming today? I could 'ave sworn Alexander was going on about how excited he was."
"Alexander the Great-Talker, yeah." Johnson's blood-stained chest lumbered up and down with his hearty laughter. "I remember him talking all about it. Apparently there's a lot of demand for your 'Electric Boogajuice' shots up here. Well, that explains all of this."
We laughed. We cried. We talked about getting hammered later. A hairy Mongolian (I can't say for certain whether he was Genghis Khan, his vocabulary consisted mostly of cheerful grunts and war cries,) invited me up on his horse, and together we rode off toward the iron gates of Valhalla.
**EDIT:** Fixed some grammatical errors courtesy of /u/Kosomba . | 2014-05-17T19:47:11 | 2014-05-17T18:38:33 | 277 | 48 |
[WP] You use a mirror to summon your evil twin. What comes out... is your good twin.
This ought to be fun. | "So you're saying that you do all your work on time?" I ask again, still half in shock. "And that you've never taken a sick day for no good reason?"
The other me nods his head. He's wearing a three piece suit, tailored, sitting with his legs crossed as though he doesn't have a care in the world. "Speaking of work, I'd appreciate it if you can end the summoning now. I've quite a difficult case due for next week."
I absently toy with the safety on my gun, scraping at the switch, careful not to push it from its current position. It's a horrible habit. Come to think of it, it's one of my many horrible habits. I procrastinate. I slack off. I lie. Sometimes I even summon myself from an alternate universe after an experiment goes horribly wrong, with the intent to murder my own corrupted copy and restore stability.
The portal is a jagged blur in my peripheral vision, pulsing faintly. It started out as a small speck. By now, it's nearly twice my size, and it's still steadily growing. It's calling. For what - or rather, for who - we still aren't sure.
Our researchers had theorized that I, as the test subject, was the source of corruption. By summoning the me of the alternate reality and exterminating myself, they believed that the dimensional rift could be sealed once more, reversing the accidental havoc we'd wreaked with our attempt at cross-dimensional travel. Operation 'Remove - Facsimile, Corrupted', often referred to as simply Re-FleCted.
"Are we done?" the other me asks, inspecting his finger nails. He's supposed to be my evil twin, for all intents and purposes, and yet, next to him…
Next to him, I feel as though I'm the evil one.
I let out a soft, defeated sigh. Fuck. I really hope this doesn't mean what I think it does. "I think that about settles it," I tell him. "Just give me a moment, and I'll send you back."
"Good," other me says simply.
Just as the machine begins to whirr, the lights flickering ever so slightly, I dart a quick glance at the mirror. It's still startling, seeing no reflection where my mind tells me there should be one. But even more startling still is the expression sliding over my double's face, contorting into a crazed, malevolent grin.
"You nearly got me, you lying bastard," I mutter, before whipping around, firing two shots through his abdomen and kicking him square in the chest. My doppelganger's chair flies backwards - right into the maw of the gaping portal. The last thing I see before the rift slams shut is my own face looking back at me, twin pools of darkness where my eyes should be, the remnants of that maniacal smile still stretching my mouth. | "Okay," he said, "let me get this straight."
I smiled and nodded for him to go on. It was a lot to take in, I thought, so I figured it best to let him take his time to get his bearings.
"You found a mirror," he said, "imbued with a magical power that allows you to look into an alternate universe and see the version of you that is in that universe."
"Yes."
"Additionally, you're able to uproot your alternate self from his universe, and bring him into yours, if you so choose."
"Right."
"So you went looking for your moral opposite, because...?"
"Because I wanted to see what he'd be like," I said.
"Right," he said. "Yes. Okay. One question."
"Okay."
"Why would you think that *I'm* the evil one?"
I had expected my evil clone's response to be more similar to "All right cool, let's go rob banks," so naturally, I was a bit taken aback. I asked him to explain.
"What kind of person," he asked, "takes an immense magical power and uses it to summon evil just for shits and giggles?"
"...a bad person?"
"A BAD PERSON! Jesus, Ted, look at yourself! You're even the one with the goatee!"
"It's not that bad," I argued sheepishly as I gave my facial hair a timid, self-conscious stroke.
"Yes it is," said Good Ted. "It really is. And all you wear is black! You look like a supervillain."
"It doesn't matter how I dress!" I snapped. "All that matters are...my..."
I was going to say "actions", but I trailed off as I remembered the life choices I had made that led me to possess a mirror with magical interdimensional abilities. Good Ted had the courtesy to allow me to have my horrible self-realization in silence. I found my voice again after a few minutes.
"Oh."
"Yeah," said Good Ted. Naturally, he sounded sympathetic, despite everything.
I turned to leave. I needed some time to reflect on what I now knew that I was. But before I could leave the room, Good Ted called out to me.
"Hey!" he yelled. "Aren't you gonna send me back? You can't just keep me here!"
I shrugged. "I'm Evil Ted," I said as I walked away. "I do what I want." | 2022-09-02T19:38:49 | 2016-04-15T16:49:46 | 65 | 16 |
[WP] Your ability to summon Trash was originally a laughing stock... Until items considered trash by an advanced alien civilization started to come through. | The city used to be a hive of scum and villainy.
It used to be filthy place, like a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, but instead of a single building, it was the entire town. Trash littered the streets, from wet and soggy newspapers to empty syringes. More people used drugs than not, in every alley and around every dumpster you could find at *least* one homeless bum or a beggar, and the most opulent part of the city was the cemetery.
In a trash city, superhumans were, similarly, trash. Summoning broken glass, creating a cloud of nauseating stench, controlling flies and fleas, and other such nonsense. So, when yet another superhuman with a trash-centered power appeared, it was par for the course.
That was three months ago.
You see, the power of this superhuman (whom we will call Scrapper) was more nuanced than that. It didn't have limits when it came to where the trash could be from... or when. All it needed was for an item to be considered useless by at least ten sapient individuals before it could be classified as trash.
Within a few days, Scrapper was walking in power armor, protected by psionic shielding, and used a massive anti-material rifle as a weapon.
Needless to say, the government took note.
As soon as possible, Scrapper was inducted into government-sponsored teams and programs. For days on end, he would summon items, technology which baffled humanity's brightest minds, and things so advanced they could be considered magical.
To be fair, some of them probably were.
Thankfully, there were superhumans with scientific-centered powers who were able to reverse-engineer this technology. Its workings and underlying principles were explained and published, humanity advanced its scientific base by leaps and bounds in mere weeks, and physics stood aside in the face of arcane machines.
When asked what he wanted as reward for bringing humanity forward this much, Scrapper asked for one simple thing. He asked for his city to be revived. And, as if a god had spoken, the filthy city was revitalized. Food was given to the less fortunate, infrastructure built up, crime was hounded relentlessly, and so, three months later, a hive of scum and villainy was a sprawling metropolis.
It truly is as they say: one man's trash is another man's treasure. | In a world where everyone has powers, the ability to summon trash was originally considered the lamest and useless power ever. But when an advanced alien civilization started to consider some things as trash, my powers got a whole lot more useful. Hi, I'm Barta Ace, and my literal trash powers are now worth something! So I tried to be a superhero once. Which is hard, because everyone else is a superhero. I was a trash man, and when supervillains came to rob banks, I would shoot trash at them. It was kinda fun, but I'm really sensitive to insults, so whenever I would mess up, some bad guy would make fun of me. The day I quit went something like this.
It was 12:34 am. My alarm clock rang. It wasn't any normal alarm clock, though. It alerted me when bad guys were doing bad things. When it was my time to stop them. I arrived on the scene in my Lamborghini I traded got by trading trash, and got out. It was another bank robbery. "Ugh," I moaned. Just then someone flew out of the bank! It was The Robber! But the bad thing was, that it was the 3rd time we'd met this week! "Hey, Trash man," he yelled out to me, "are you actually gonna stop me, or are ya gonna keep being a Trash superhero?" That was it. I was done being insulted and losing against The Robber. I harnessed all my power and strained my muscles. I held a position for a little while, before saying the dumbest thing ever. "Trashy, Trashy, GO!" Then I registered what I just said. It was no superhero phrase. I said 'Trashy Trashy'. The Robber stood there laughing, saying, "Is that all you got? HAHAHHAHHAHA!" And then, a rouge iron giant came out of my hands and clobbered The Robber to death. | 2021-12-27T06:34:22 | 2021-12-27T05:07:02 | 78 | 12 |
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