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[WP] You and your immortal friends amuse yourselves with practical jokes. Since you're immortal, some of your joke setups take centuries, or even millenia, to execute. | So about 7,000 years ago Ollie dropped a boulder on my head. We were hunter-gatherers then, and he convinced me that there was a herd of red deer in a canyon near our camp. When I went there to check it out, he was on top of the ridge and rolled the boulder off onto me. It took a week for me to claw my way out.
Okay Ollie, funny prank. Ha fuggin' ha. But the thing is, he wouldn't shut up about it. As we progressed through the neolithic era, the bronze age, the iron age, when we were Roman senators, he would bring it up every single time we met.
Maybe it was kinda funny at the time, but not funny enough that I enjoyed hearing about it every week for 5,000 years straight. When our friend Hallie tricked our other friend Marko into being in Pompeii when Mt. Vesuvius erupted it was legitimately hilarious, and even they knew to shut up about it after a few centuries.
When the Renaissance and Enlightenment started in Europe, I finally figured out a way to get back at Ollie. As you can probably guess, being an immortal gets pretty boring. But the Enlightenment was a genuinely exciting time to be alive. I started making friendships with all the scientists and innovators: Newton, Galileo, Bayes, Kepler, Laplace. It was the first time something interesting had happened for me in thousands of years, and I immersed myself in it. When my astronomer buddy Giuseppe Piazzi up in Naples told me about his discovery of asteroids, I knew what to do.
Fast-forward 250 years. NASA's [Asteroid Redirect Mission](https://www.nasa.gov/content/what-is-nasa-s-asteroid-redirect-mission) is nearing completion, and an asteroid plucked from the asteroid belt is on its way to be put in orbit around the moon for further study.
Too bad the mission was doomed to failure from the start. The asteroid wouldn't achieve a stable orbit around the moon and would strike Earth instead. Their calculations for the orbital dynamics were the tiniest infinitesimal fraction of a percent wrong, and they had no way of knowing that. Why not? Guess who has two thumbs and has been subtly introducing tiny errors into every branch of science since its outset ... this immortal!
And, guess who was standing exactly where the asteroid struck, staring up like a dumbass while an asteroid hit him in the face?
Your move, Ollie. | The best joke we've ever seen wasn't the time Jake tricked me into a pit of spikes and left me there for a whole day. That was diabolic but it wasn't the most creative (and certainly not the most original). Nor was it the time Mary faked an official letter from the gods telling us our time was up (though that was pretty good). The best I've ever seen is still ongoing now, never stopping until eternity itself is gone.
They told me it was a simple experiment. A true test of our immortality. They told me that there was only one way for us to die, and that was to die at the Canyon of Time, an uncountable distance from Earth. Being the one who never stopped marvelling at the universe and its creations, I declined to make a trip there. Thy told me they'd be back in a day or two with stories to tell.
They didn't tell me that going there was a route of no return.
I didn't even know they had seen enough of this world.
All I knew was that they never came back.
Especially you, my dear. We were going to get officially married, by immortal standards, the week after. You never did value this relationship, did you? You never cared for how I, the only one of the gang left would feel, right? None of you cared an ounce about me. It was just all about you...
The world tires me now. I had counted the years as they passed, but I have stopped eons ago. It's fruitless anyways. I lived for the excitement of life. But the only excitement life brings now is...the end of it.
The sweet release. Heat death will come in the next billion years, if those humans were to be believed. I exterminated all species as soon as they left. No other species has the right to the universe as much as we do.
Good job, you bastards. Your practical joke worked.
But jokes do end, right?
Oh, how I hope they do.
______________________________
r/Whale62 for more :) | 2017-06-23T00:57:11 | 2017-06-23T00:50:43 | 220 | 27 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip. | Beware the false prophets, the wolves who hide in the white of sheep’s clothing. That was what my Father once said. Yet he failed to practice what he preached. He let a wolf into his home, a man who claimed to seek shelter but bathed in blood. When the wolf fled, my Father was laid to rest, a pool of water seeping from his cuts. When the police found that cold-blooded killer, the blood test confirmed what had been made clear by that night: Black. In a mere moment, a man of goodwill was gone. Naivete made my Father’s bed, and now he sleeps.
I would not make that same mistake.
I knew the color, the character of every man I met. A handshake was an opportunity to prick a palm; a hug, a time to pierce a back. More than once, I’d see a familiar face on the nightly news: caught and convicted of murder, rape, mass shooting. Then the results of the blood test were broadcasted. And what would have been a revelation for others was yesterday’s news for me: Black. In mugshots, I’d see a bandage on their right hand, covering up the result of my own handiwork. How easy it was for a wolf to keep white his sheep’s clothing. Nobody knew what ran in their veins until too late--nobody but me.
The police are not protectors. They sweep in only once the deeds have been done, eager to play the heroes and enforce the law—the law that constitutionally prohibits preemptive blood tests before enough “evidence” is found, the law that protects the wolves, the law that has failed the dead and defiled. Retribution is the game they play, not prevention. The system is broken, inefficient, bloody.
So I volunteered. Not to enforce the law, but to enforce Justice itself, that mysterious force that decides our color by our character; I knew better than the law who was pure or black of heart. But the world had to know, too. You surely know of the crown of thorns. Our Father was once subjected to that device. Of the three on the crosses, he was the only one whose blood was clear.
Yes, you’ve seen the crowns on the dead. Have you seen any untainted by black? Of course not; I do not kill the innocent. I am the shepherd, and I protect my sheep. After I cast out the wolves, the nightly news was not tainted by fear of the criminals, but by reverence for the protector of the pure!
Those who were less than pure flocked in fear to churches, asking Father to forgive them. They bled black.
The less theistic flocked in fear to shelters, praying that their volunteering would be penance for their prior impurity. There I met them, though they didn’t know it yet. Yes, I was a volunteer too. But I was not a wolf in sheep’s clothing as these new volunteers were; I cared for the needy, not out of fear of the color of my blood, but because I cared!
That’s how the officers traced me: the murders of the false volunteers. They traced their deaths to a shelter—my shelter. I was caught black-handed, pricked by my own needle knitting winter wear. A noble goal stopped in its tracks.
You surely understand, executioner. You kill the black-blooded too. But not to protect the pure—No, your aim is to “uphold the law.” How noble. So before you throw that lever, executioner, my last words:
Do you bleed blacker than I?
| I still remember the screams. "Demon!" "Evil!" "How dare you!?" "Trickster!"
That was ten years ago, now. I once lived among the rich elite, high in the sky, in the tops of the towers of New, New york. What a naming scheme... Knitting hats for the homeless is just a scam, you know. Keeps us looking good in the cameras. Until I handed a pristine white one over to the cameraman.... with my filthy black blood all over it.
You see, white and black blood is just the 23rd century version of white and black _skin._ Though, instead of the "N-Word", we now have the "B-Word". Blackbloods. Doesn't come off the tongue as easy though, does it? Of course, it all comes down to control. people with light blood spend their lives being as painfully nice as they can to everyone around them, and dark bloods go into undercities. Because who doesn't enjoy living in dank, flooded, 21st century cities where everything is halfway collapsed and the power works... maybe occassionally?
But, well, that ends tonight. They thought they could ban me? I'm one of them! I'll SHOW them! They thought I'd bend right over and take it, but I had plenty of things ready for just so a situation. Like money. Weapons. Bombs. All hidden in an old warehouse down here in old york... so, quietly, under the radar, outside of the view of everyone else, I've told everyone. We're all working together, unlike you blasted money bloated elite.
"Sir, we're ready, the bombs are set and everyone has evacuated outside of blast radius" Came a voice as the dusty door to my small office opened. A wicked grin spread across my face as I said, "Then, shall we show our excuse for a world government what it's like to live down here? If we're lucky, we might even be able to keep the new city"
I walked outside, into the warehouse. Inside, sloppily-thrown-together flying cars waited for me. It was easy to steal a proper car from above, strip out the fancy crap, and weld it into an older car. And, well, older humans knew what they were doing- this thing they call an expedition can hold an entire pulse bomb, and the hoverpads do give it quite a nice look.
Tonight, we start life over! The right way! Perhaps I am a sort of Demon, heh.
~~sorry I gave up like partway through but I didn't wanna waste all the words I typed so I slapped the rest together, inspired by [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/94k0gv/wp_our_blood_is_naturally_clear_it_thickens_and/e3lsxwj/)~~ | 2018-08-04T12:06:46 | 2018-08-04T11:02:34 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] Stepping out your front door one morning, you trip on the step and fall. Unfortunately, in doing so you crack you head open and die. As you fell you happened to crush a snail which, due to a technicality, turns out to count as dying in battle. You and the snail awaken in Valhalla | I couldn't believe it. Valhalla. Of all the heavens I had heard of this one fit me the least. All because of the small snail on the ground next to me. I was angry. For a man such as me, one who had never been athletic or strong in any typical way it was certain to be my hell.
"Pick up the sword lad, the day of fighting begins now. You may be here by accident but by Odins beard we will have ya grown fierce and ready for Ragnarok!" Yelled a mountainous man as he tossed a heavy iron sword at my feet.
I grabbed it. Barely able to hold it straight. "Fine." I muttered. "Let's make the most of this."
Its been months now. Fighting every day. Dying. Drinking every night. I can't take it anymore. And that's not even the worst part. The worst part? The goddamn snail has a higher kill count than I've been able to manage despite my best efforts. Slipping on tiny trails of slime, distracting the most fierce warriors across history as they start in surprise that a tiny snailmade it to their glorious heaven. Well today that changes.
"There you are!" I charged towards the tiny cause of my suffering on the ground. "If this is how my hell will be I will cause it to be far worse for you!"
I knew speaking to a snail was pointless. I knew my hatred was misplaced. But as I charged to the snail, determined to smash him to a violent heap of woe everyday from this point onwards. I tripped. I lost my footing and fell. Right onto my own sword. Right in front of the snail. As I bled out for yet another night, I swear I saw the bastard smile. | "Espera un momento, dejame entender esto" Digo sosteniendo mi frente.
El vikingo suspira. "Ya estamos media hora aquí"
"Lo sé, pero como es posible esto" Señaló el caracol. "Yo no lo mate, el no me mato y no estábamos en ninguna batalla".
El vikingo levantó un portapapeles. Comenzó a abrir la boca.
"¡Que no estábamos en ninguna pelea!"
"Bien" Levanta un teléfono. "Entonces usted era cristiano?"
"Si"
"Bien, si hola el infierno si aquí hay un pecador"
"Espera" Cuelga el teléfono. "Por qué soy un pecador"
"Cometiste un pecado"
"¡¿Cuál pecado?!"
"Asesinato"
"......."
"......"
El vikingo levanta el teléfono.
Tomo al caracol en mis brazos.
"¡Nuestra batalla fue tan epica que el caracol se quedó sin habla, no caracol".
"......"
"Lo ves" Digo con una sonrisa. | 2022-10-16T10:22:44 | 2022-10-16T08:17:39 | 112 | 36 |
[WP] You are a long forgotten god. A small girl leaves a piece of candy at your shrine, and you awaken. Now, you must do everything to protect your High Priestess, the girl, and her entire kindergarten class, your worshipers.
If you want to post this on other platforms, please credit me. Looking at you instagram writing prompts. | Can you imagine being forgotten? Not dying, mind you, but being *forgotten.* Dying, I could live with, but being forgotten is a different manner.
Every word I’d ever spoken and the influence it had on humanity was gone. My ancient followers, along with their names and faces, could be found nowhere. My temples and idols reduced by time to mere rust and gravel. All that remained of me was a broken altar likely to crumble with the coming breeze. The last person who knew my name was Myra, the old hag of a priestess. Now, with her soul ripped from her corpse, her skeleton was the only thing I had to talk to for the centuries after her people’s genocide.
It’s cruel, really. I called down bolt after bolt of lightning, but they slaughtered on. My brothers summoned earthquakes, my sisters the wrath of the ocean, but even after the tsunamis and landslides, I was forced to watch as their lights were snuffed out. One by one, their altars were destroyed, and they left this world with a shriek of pain. Gone in an instant. That was death.
Now, I was left to watch the people fall apart. Their gods were dying to quickly to protect them. I shrouded them with winds, but my might wasn’t enough. I watched each human die. Every believer. Every priest. Every father and mother, son and daughter was slain in the name of a deity I’d never heard of, but have long since come to despise. They died calling on my name, stealing it from the world with their last breaths. My temples are but ruins. My idols are just dust. The scrolls and tablets of prayers and commandments are burned and shattered. I would never taste their gold offerings or smell their much adored incense. There was no one left for me bless, and because of that, I had no power to curse their murderers. I’m only alive because my altar survived, but even with my life, I am nothing. Indeed, alone and unknown for centuries, being forgotten is worse than death.
But now, it isn’t the taste of gold that got my attention, but chocolate. I turn, if you could call my disembodied motion turning around, and saw her. She twirled around, evidently trying to dance. She fell, angrily pulling a chocolate from her bag and placing it beside the first on my altar. This process repeated for a few minutes before I could feel some semblance of power returning.
I admit, it was a treat not just for my tongue, but my eyes. To see a human, and a child at that, back in my temple dancing and leaving offerings brought about a feeling I forgot I had. So I watched for awhile, not able to do much with the meager power I had anyway. But soon, after almost the whole bag of candy was left at my altar, she fell on the ground and started to cry.
“Oh, I just can’t do it!” she yelled, drying her tears with her buried in her little yellow dress. “Mommy said not to eat them until I got it right, but I just can’t do it!” With a red face and puffy eyes, she got up, stiffly repeating the moves, ending with a worse fall than any of the earlier attempts. She bawled. “I can’t! Ms. Rose will never let me dance on stage! I just can’t!” Stubbornly, she threw another chocolate at my altar, the last one I’d need.
It had been so long since I could use my powers, I barely remembered how. But, with a slow breeze, a picked up the leaves scattered around, and twirled them in the air for her. It wasn’t long before she noticed, watched them dance around the temple’s fallen walls like golden ballerinas in the autumn wind. I called the wind to dance around her, hugging her and tickling her face. With a giggle, she chased after them, trying to pluck the leaves from the breeze.
I twirled them behind her, and she turned after them as she skipped along. I moved them this way, and she followed. That way, and she pursued. At one point, she tripped over her feet, but I caught her with the wind, pulling a chocolate form her bag and placing it on my altar. Again, she chased, with each step loosening up and twirling with more grace than any moment before. She twirled, she hopped, she dashed and skipped along the stone floor. She leapt and laughed, her dress fanning out around her as petals around a sunflower. And at last, with a final whip of the wind, she caught a leaf in her hand, finishing our dance. With the last of my strength, I returned the chocolates to her, my power fading. I may have wanted them, but as a just god, I knew she had earned them. The last thing I saw was her smile as she dropped them into her mouth, saying thank you to the dancing leaves.
A week or so later, she came back, calling for the leaves again, as would become the habit. Friends came with her sometimes, asking for help with homework or coloring a picture. I helped where I could, and they left me chocolates every time. While I still prefer gold, I must say, there is nothing like a candy bar in the mouth of a starved god. Before long, they all started calling me Windy, the helpful wind. My brothers and sisters would laugh, but at least now, I was remembered.
Even if I couldn’t use the roaring thunder, I’d take a whispering breeze. Even if I had lost my people, I’d cherish this adorable circle of children. And, even if it wasn’t the name muttered by Myra’s lips, this god would watch out for the girl and her friends no matter what they called him. A grimacing old woman isn’t nearly the fun a grinning little girl is, anyway.
Don’t worry, Daisy. Windy will always be here to dance with you. | All that can be heard is soft thrumming. The world pulses with the Worldsong, a gentle violin mixed with the exuberance of a trumpet, a song of constant-shifting tempo and tune, but the ancient being does not stir. For centuries, the ancient being has slept.
Something changes. The world’s melody shifts. A soft xylophone, reaching out for the ancient’s own strong, thrumming bass drum.
The ancient opens their eyes. A small child stands before a candy, which was placed on their long-forgotten shrine. An offering. Now, the Worldsong peaks, wrapping around its master, whispering in its soft symphony tales of change. Each individual person's music, once faint to the slumbering ancient, returned anew.
"Quite unexpected," they say, voice echoing with their song, a shifting and changing mix of trombone and bass drum, along with an occasional thump of a cymbal.
The child shrieks, clamping her palms down on her ears.
The god sighs and extends his aura, dampening her new connection to the Worldsong.
"Summoner, the offering has been received. You have awoken me, and I serve you now. Speak my name, Veryn, and I shall heed your call."
The god has taken their place once more as conductor of the Worldsong, with their new concertmaster beside them.
A trumpet blares through the woods, filled with the ominous thump of a drum and softer, panicked staccato of a flute. Heralded by the music. A woman appeared around the corner, oppressive trumpet and frantic flute quieting down as she caught sight of the girl.
“What did I tell you about running off, Zoe?” the woman says.
“But Ms. G, the person was lonely.”
“What person, Zoe? Was there someone here with you?” the flute’s pace picked up once more.
“He’s right there!” the priestess pointed to the conductor.
“Oh, that’s nice. Why don’t you ask him to come back with us? And don’t run off again. I’m sure your new friend doesn‘t want you to get hurt.” The flute shifts into a soft, soothing melody.
The woman was right. The ancient being did not want their new priestess to be hurt. They would make sure of it. They did chuckle at the poor, misguided human’s belief that they were imaginary.
“Mr. Veryn! Will you please come back with us? You could meet my friends!” their priestess said.
“Do not say my name, child. That is for you alone. If you must, call me simply V. And I shall follow you anywhere. You have my loyalty,” the god speaks softly.
Weeks pass. Not much changes in the life of the priestess. As time goes on, their priestess’ friends gain the ability to see them, and, by connection, catch glimpses of the Worldsong. The once-forgotten God gains in power as their new followers offer up food and emotion. The God also changes. Never had they imagined their time would be spent making sure the children did not run into busy streets or get kidnapped. Never had they imagined they would be calming down their hiccupping priestess, eyes puffy from the nightmare that greeted her in her slumber. Never had the ancient being imagined their ears would be full of a chaotic symphony of kazoo, off-tune recorder, and random xylophone.
And then their summoner grew older. The sweet and gentle xylophone grew older and more mature. The god’s role changed as well. If the child had gazed at the news with teary eyes, no one had to know that the ancient one altered the Worldsong to allow justice to be had. If another child pushed their summoner to the ground, no one would connect the event to the perpetrator winding up with a broken leg from a snapped swing. The ancient one would protect his followers, but especially his priestess, to the ends of their mortal lives.
Sometimes, events happened that were tougher. After their summoner lost her mother, she pleaded with the god to revive her. They would have gladly done it, but that was not within their power. They realized that day they could not fix or protect their priestess from everything. All they could do was coat their summoner in the Worldsong and allow her to be soothed. Although the ancient being’s connected mortal caused plenty of struggle and trouble for the ancient being, they would never wish to return to their slumber, even though their summoner offered many times.
Decades had passed. The once-excitable and happy xylophone was slower with deeper notes. A soft, higher trumpet could be heard, along with an excitable kazoo. The concertmaster’s song had developed echoes of her family’s song, of her husband, her child, and her grandchild. Although the trumpet and kazoo attempted to remain upbeat and fast, the slow xylophone dominated. The concertmaster’s time in the world will end. As the xylophone soared for the last time, the Worldsong blared out in all its glory. That day, the Worldsong lost a good friend, and a great concertmaster.
The ancient one closed his eyes, trombone and cymbals fading once more, along with the recently-added xylophone. All that remained was the thrumming of a bass drum. | 2021-09-02T12:46:28 | 2021-09-02T10:15:48 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] Other princesses have Fairy Godmothers. You have a Fairy Godfather. He doesn't exactly grant wishes in the usual way, but the Fairy Mob always has your back. | Maria had come to realize that being royalty meant two things: she didn't have to cook for herself anymore and that the expected was anything but. She'd worked her way into the good graces of the high court, grovelled at the feet of lords, dined with baronesses all throughout the land, all to get where she was now. There was a certain satisfaction she could glean from her position (the view from her new room in the tower was lovely), but some things couldn't escape her notice.
She accepted the laurels and perks of being a princess, as anyone would, but there had come a surprise when she was sworn in. Every member of nobility is granted a guardian of sorts, a protector and watchful eye for the mundane. The king and queen shared a powerful fae to help rule the kingdom in either an iron fist or open palm. Lords and ladies bent their ears to cunning pixies, ready to seize their every desire by the throat.
Upon hearing of this fantastical entourage she would be assigned, she expected the best of the best, magic befitting a new princess of the five kingdoms. Sadly, but understandably, Maria was gifted the patronage of a one Pilly 'Ice-Pick' Vedrano. The best of the best was saved for the best of the best, the others in court had said, and Pilly was known as the worst of the worst, so arrangements were made for Maria to accept her new Fairy Godfather.
She was aghast at first, insulted that her new peers thought so little of her. She was royalty, she was deserving of the finest in the land. So why did she get stuck with a fairy that had persistent five o'clock shadow, two golden teeth, and an accent that didn't fit? Over time, though, Maria came to realize that her new companion was more than he seemed.
"How did it go?" Maria asked one day. She'd sat for hours in her tower, waiting for word back on the mission she'd sent her faithful servant to complete. It shouldn't have been that difficult, but Pilly was known for making roundabout trips to the less savoury parts of the kingdoms.
"About as well as to be expected," said Pilly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
Maria's eyes lit up like a firework. "And? What did he say?"
"Something along the lines of 'I swear I'll never touch her again' and 'please, not the face'." Pilly popped a cigarette into his mouth and searched for his lighter. After not finding it immediately, he snapped his fingers and the end lit up with a spark. Magic always tainted the taste, but today had been a long day and he needed the hit.
"Do you think he means it?"
Pilly smirked. "We made him mean it."
"Wonderful!" she yelled. The jester that served her father had recently gotten a bit grabby when she went to court and apparently valued a good grope more than his head. When she brought this up to her father, she expected a swift parting of the jester's head from his neck but was told she simply wasn't important enough to warrant such drastic measures. Sure, there were six princesses and it was a fight for the throne, but a princess is a princess, she shouldn't have been treated that way. Pilly was a bit more receptive than her father. "And he's not going to come make a surprise visit in the night, is he?"
"Depends," said Pilly, balancing his icepick wand on his finger. "Is this tower wheelchair accessible?"
"No, the mason's aren't that progressive."
"Then you should be good."
Maria collapsed into her bed, a great burden released from her shoulders, and thought if maybe her actions were a bit harsh. She earned her keep (both literally and figuratively as it was her keep in name and deed), and it would stay hers as long as she made the right decisions. If it took a few visits from the boogeyman in the night, then that's what she'd do. Of course, she wasn't the boogeyman. She was the next best thing: the boogeyman's manager.
She pulled the covers over her shoulders, enveloping herself in a cocoon of pink and green, and looked to her godfather. Most fae are known to be drop-dead handsome and beautiful, chiselled from the cleanest stone in the world. But Pilly was chiselled from a different rock, to say the least. While not conventionally attractive, he did have a sort of 'I'll protect you but not for less than fifty gold' look about him.
"Are you free tomorrow?" Maria asked, whimsy in her voice.
"For you? Always," said Pilly.
"My sisters are having a ball this coming week, and I was wondering if you'd like to come to the rehearsal."
Pilly's eyes widened. "You're not allowed to bring your fairy to courtly affairs. Everyone knows that."
Maria sat up and put a hand on Pilly's shoulder. "You won't be my fairy, you'll be my plus one."
"I understand you wanna make a statement but I ain't about to be a martyr for my kind," he said rising from the bed. Fairies are lesser beings, as the kings had always said in time immemorial, and no one was to directly involve them in political affairs. Plot an assassination of a public official all you want, but keep it out of the ballroom. Ask to use the bathroom at a convention and a fairy would be kicked out and disavowed in a heartbeat. "You're the princess, find someone else."
"Yes, I am the princess. And as royalty, I can firmly say they can go fuck themselves. I want you by my side," said Maria, batting her eyelashes.
"You shouldn't swear like that. Not very princess-like of you."
"I've learned from the best. So are you free or not?"
Pilly thought for a moment. "Okay, but I get to choose what to wear. None of that weird shit your sisters keep trying to put on me. I don't like glitter."
Maria reached out and hugged him. She'd only known him for a few months, but she could tell he was getting softer than the facade he always put up. "Thank you," she said.
"Yeah, yeah," said Pilly, opening the door to leave. "I'll let you get your beauty rest now. Goodnight, your majesty."
"Goodnight, Pill," she called. He turned to leave. "Oh, one last thing."
She rummaged through her nightstand and pulled out two pair of brass knuckles wrapped in foil. On the knuckles were the letters P-I-X-Y and D-U-S-T. "They're a matching set. I saw your old pair was getting stained."
Taking them in hand, Pilly smiled. With a curt nod, he opened the door and left. | Princess Edna was crying fat, ugly tears inside her chamber in the castle.
She wailed and pitifully beat her fists against the smooth stone of her walls. She threw her bedsheets off the bed, stamping on them, and decided to unleash a horrible scream. Nothing in her chamber was safe: that priceless painting of her grandfather, King Tor III? Obliterated. The priceless vase from the En Empire halfway across the world? Shattered. Her jewelry? No, those were safe.
Outside the room, Edna’s guards winced with every shriek and thunderous crash.
“This isn’t fair!” she yelled, clenching her tiny fists. “This. Isn’t. Fair!”
Edna paced and paced in the wreckage of her room, until, at last, she came to a decision. She stormed over to the window, flung it open carelessly, and cried out loud to the night, “Fairy Godfather! I need you! Now, I say!”
She whipped around and sat on her naked bed, fuming. Every second that passed by made her more and more impatient, which in turn made her more and more upset.
Just when she was about to scream again, he showed up.
Godfather strolled in through the window, whistling a jaunty tune. A black cane matched his hblack, pinstripe tunic and jerkins, which matched his wings. A lit pipe sent a heady and colorful stream of smoke into the air. He was wearing a peasant boy’s cap.
“Oy, my dear girl,” Godfather crooned, walking on the air. “How good it is to see you. You never call anymore.” He patted Edna on the cheek.
“Godfather,” Edna growled. “I have a wish.”
Godfather sighed. “Of course you do, dear. That’s the only reason you want to speak to your poor Godfather these days.” He pouted, then blew a puff of white smoke into his hand. It coalesced into a glass, and he filled it with a stream of amber smoke that turned into liquid.
“This is serious, Godfather!” Edna’s anger was replaced by an overwhelming sense of grief and humiliation. “The Duke’s son… he… he…” She began to blubber. “He rejected my hand! In front of the entire court! Oh, how I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.” She buried her face into her hands and wept.
Godfather took a deep breath of his pipe, then exhaled. Edna peeked a glance. The smoke was black.
“Is that so?” he said quietly. “The Duke’s boy hurt you, did he? He hurt my family?”
“He did,” Edna whispered, nodding. “He hurt me bad.”
“Well, that won’t do, will it?” Godfather breathed out smoke through his nostrils. It was somehow even darker than before.
“No, it won’t.”
Godfather gave a cold smile. “Say your wish, darling, and it will be done.”
“I wish Alistar Kestrel was taught a lesson tonight.” Edna stared into her Fairy Godfather’s eyes.
Another breath; another exhale. He reached out and patted Edna on the cheek.
“It is done.”
---
Later that night, Alistar awoke in a strange room, tied to a chair. A cloth bag was over his head, and it smelled like potatoes.
“Mhmm. MHMM!” he said, jerking left and right. There was something in his mouth.
“Take the bag and gag off,” said a cold voice.
The bag was removed, and blinding light shone in the Duke’s heir’s face. The gag was removed, and he took a shuddering breath.
“Do you know who I am?” he shouted, flailing wildly. “Do you know who my father is?”
“Yes, and yes,” said the same voice.
Alistar blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust. When they did, he gasped.
Standing in front of him were four fairies. Three of them wore animal masks that covered their face. All four wore black clothing with black wings. The older one in the middle bared his face openly and wore a slight frown. A pipe dangled from his mouth.
“What… what is this?” Alistar said, looking around in shock. “Faeries?”
“We prefer to call ourselves Fae,” the old one said, puffing his pipe. A steady stream of black smoke tinged with red blew out of his nostrils. His hair was slicked back, with silver lining the edges.
“Who sent you?” Alistar demanded. “The En? The Cushics? Perhaps, my little brother?” Alister wouldn’t put it past the conniving twerp.
“No." A shake of the head. “I answer to a higher power.”
Alistar swallowed. “The King?” he whispered.
The faerie leaned in, and Alistar recoiled at the stench of booze and odd, pungent smoke.
“Even higher,” he said, rolling his sleeves up. “Family. There’s a lesson you and yours have never learned. You see, when you mess with someone’s family, well, there has to be some repercussions, do you not agree?”
“I’ll pay whatever you want,” Alistar stammered, suddenly feeling very afraid. The smell of smoke was getting to his head. He was light-headed.
“Yes. You will.” The old one nodded his head to the others, and the gag and bag were placed back onto Alistar.
“MHMM. MHMM,” Alistar said, shaking his head rapidly.
He heard the old one approach. The smell of smoke got stronger.
“My goddaughter sends her regards,” the faerie whispered, directly into his ear.
*Goddaughter?* Alistar thought, and then the blows came, one after the other, and pain flooded over the Duke’s son.
---
Far away in her chamber, the Princess Edna was snoring soundly.
---
*You already know I was listening to Godfather Waltz for this one. Loved the prompt. Consider checking out my subreddit, home of the (self-proclaimed) bangers :) /r/chrischang* | 2020-08-19T16:08:32 | 2020-08-19T15:23:22 | 3,230 | 478 |
[WP] A local bartender regularly willingly hosts monsters and demons in his bar. When terrorists kidnap his children they learn the hard way how close he is to them. | The first flecks of dawn’s light trickled into the fancy high-rise bar. All was quiet except for the subtle squeaking of glasses being cleaned by the young woman behind the counter. She worked mechanically, with no life in her movements. She didn’t even flinch as the rear door slammed open and noise flooded the room.
A terrifying assortment of gruesome creatures poured into the bar from the door as though through the gates of hell itself accompanied by a cacophony of growls, hisses, and moans that one could almost mistake as laughter. A towering figure with twisting horns and cruel claws approached the counter first, gingerly taking a seat and smiling at the woman with a mouth of wickedly pointed teeth.
“Mornin’ Mary! We had a great night, a round for everyone on me!” the monster proclaimed to cheers from his comrades.
“Coming right up Blue,” Mary said quietly, moving to fill the order without a hint of fear, or any other emotion for that matter.
Blue’s smile faltered as he looked at her curiously, noticing the tear streaks leading from her dead brown eyes.
“Hey hey,” Blue said, his voice now as gentle as it could be with its rumbling timbre. “There’s something eating you girl. What’s wrong? Can we help?”
The bar quieted as the others began noticing her distress. It seemed for a moment that she would remain quiet, but soon she opened up, her voice quivering. “I-I… It’s my kids. Some people took them. They’re demanding a ten million dollar ransom delivered to them somewhere in that old abandoned neighborhood down Hollis St within a day if I ever want to see my kids again. They said they’d disappear if they saw even a hint of the police. My husband is out trying to see if we can even get a loan that big. We don’t even have anything close to that kind of money! Why me? What can I do!?” Mary had thought herself cried out, but found new tears forming as she let it out.
The shocking assortment of creatures looked at one another in shock, each wondering who could be so cruel. Blue leaned over the counter and grabbed Mary in a bear hug that she melted into eagerly. After a moment he released her, leaning back with a dangerous gleam in his eyes.
“Fella’s, looks like that drink will have to wait, we’ve got overtime to do.” Blue said as he began stomping towards the door they had entered through.
Mary looked after him in surprise, “what are you going to do?”
He paused, looking back at her with a gentle fierceness, “what we do best. Find those kids.”
----------
Lance leaned against the wall of the shabby house twirling a butterfly knife with boredom. He glanced over at the two kids tied in the corner, reassuring himself they were still here. By the terror on their faces, he could tell they shouldn’t be a problem, but he really needed this to go smoothly. Hopefully the woman wouldn’t do anything stupid like bring in the police, then they’d never have their payday, and he might have to deal with those kids which would be unpleasant.
One of the other five, Nash, looked up at him nervously, “Lance, are you sure she’s good for it? This is an awful risk. What if she has mob connections?”
Lance rolled his eyes at the younger man. “Of course she is idiot. That bar of hers is fancy as hell, but it’s practically never open, it’s definitely a front for something. Plus, she’s way too squeaky clean to be with the mob. No, this is some white collar shady business. That kind of money is probably pocket change to her. We’ll get our payout and disappear to some quiet island somewhere, just chill out.”
Nash shifted nervously, “if you say so. Something about all this just gives me a bad feeling.”
“Oh so you’re a jedi now? Shut it and keep watch, this will be over soon,” Lance snapped at him.
He glanced back at the kids and saw them still where he’d left them. Had that closet door been cracked before? Probably, maybe he was a little jumpy after all. He grinned to himself. With the creaking of this old building he could almost imagine they were footsteps behind him and that those shadows in the corners were alive.
He squinted. Hold on, did that shadow just move?
Before he could take another breath, the room exploded into motion around him. He saw shadows move for sure this time. Scales, claws, tentacles, feathers, slime, fur, horns, and teeth were all in a sudden whirlwind about him as he was hit from multiple angles at once. In an instant he was on his back in tremendous pain and with the breath knocked out of him. Leaning over him was a terrifying visage of twisted horns, wicked teeth, and blue fur leering at him with eyes in which he could see his death reflected. He tried to let out what would have been the most primal scream of terror of his life, but there was no air in his lungs to release.
The figure spoke in a quiet growl that sent shivers down Lance’s spine. “You are lucky we don’t kill anyone these days, but if you ever think of hurting a child again, I’ll make an exception for you. We can find you no matter where you run. Nowhere is safe from us.”
Lance thought he could hear sirens in the distance and his head fell to the side as he began to lose consciousness from terror, shock, and lack of air. The last thing he saw was the kids, now unbound, hugging a huge green eyeball.
-----------
Mary looked up from the bar to twin shrieks of joy proclaiming, “Mommy!!”
She embraced her children fiercely as they ran to her, tears of relief and joy spilling down her cheeks, for the moment paying no heed to the menagerie of monsters filing in from the broom closet.
After a while Mary stood and beckoned to Blue, “come here you big lug.”
The two shared an embrace and Mary whispered to him, “thanks Kitty.”
“Anything for you Boo,” He said warmly.
She stepped back and smiled at the gathered crowd, then walked around behind the bar again. “Thank you all so much. Order up, Monsters Inc drinks free today!”
| Theodore, Eoghan and Meph stared at the ransom note left by the bar.
It was glued on in single letters, to a single matte sheet of paper. *We have your number, and your children. You will be contacted about the location of the drop. We require $20 million in non-sequential, non-scented, unmarked bills.*
Meph looked at his close friend and bartender Theodore. He knew he was in pain, and had to rein in his tomentor nature. "You know what? We're gonna sort this for you, right?" He snorted, a small belch of sulfurous flame leaving his nostrils.
Eoghan shook his head, not in disagreement, but to clear something out of his mind. As an avatar of change and the greatest disciple of Eris, he had to do that a lot. "Aye, wee laddie," Eoghan spoke, a thick, deep Irish voice rang out. "I'll get me axe out for ye, and go a-choppin' with me friends. We'll get ye' childers out o'there."
Theodore brought them in for an embrace. "Thank you." He spoke with a bitterness and upwelling of joy that would instantly break the Bartender's Code if it ever got out. "I don't deserve you guys!"
Both Eoghan and Meph shook their heads. Meph spoke before Eoghan could get a word in sideways. "Nonsense! Who was it who helped me out when I had that cataclysmic falling-out with Lilith? And who helped Eoghan recover his dark axe, the Sender?
"It was you, with your calm words, and stoic resolution, and the positive advice you gave. If we didn't help *you* in your hour of need, then we'd never get to live it down! We know who you serve here, and it's not the heroes and the investigators. You serve the bad guys. You let us in, even though you know we could turn to to ash simply by blinking wrongly at you."
"You need us, so it's *our* turn to help *you*. Muahaha. MUAHAHA! **MUAHAHAHAHAHA!!!** ...I'll stop now." Eoghan, in answer, clapped Theodore on the back of his shoulder, hefted his black axe, the the three left.
/ / / / / / /
The drop point was under the fountain in Picadilly Gardens in nearby Manchester. Meph and Eoghan were waiting, to see who came to pick up the case.
In the surrounding area were three gargoyles, two Frankensteins, seventeen lesser Devils and three Byakhees. Meph a was little surprised at the byakhees, seeing as they had been under contract to other people right at that point.
Everyone held their breath, as three small figures, wrapped in full Islamic dress, started looking around furtively, approaching from the bus station just to the side of the Gardens. They stopped, looked at each other, and tensed.
Eoghan opened his eyes at that point and spoke a single word. "*Chaos.*"
Everything happened at once and struck. The three figures were frozen in horror and terror. They may have been used to the recent lifting of the Veil, but not even hardened investigators would want to come up against such a horde.
The three people lay down, completely prostrate. Theodore approached from the Arndale Centre tram stop, and approached the fountain. There was a sense of unease spreading across the Gardens, as clearly Something Spooky was going on.
Theodore approached the three figures, before unceremoniously ripping the headscarves off of them. To the surprise of most of the demons and monsters, it was Theodore's three children, Emilia, Marcus and young but tall Uphemia. Theodore held his fingers, massaging his nasal sinuses. Eoghan literally howled with laughter. Meph just grinned, an aura of flames rippling in time with Eoghan's laughter.
"....and *why*, children, did you think it was a good idea to do this?" Theodore spoke, his mouth set in a grim line and frowning. His children just looked at him, confusion abound.
Marcus spoke first, his voice belying his actual age of 25. "Well, Dad, we just wanted to meet the ghuys you serve! And, seeing as you're working such long hours, and you won't let us in the bar..." Marcus' voice trailed off as his hands shished about expressively, gesturing to the scene. The young women nodded in agreement. "You always tell us the stories, but you never let us *meet* them."
Eoghan was rolling around on ther floor, hooting like a dying ass. Even the monstrous gargoyles held theselves with difficulty, trying not to show teeth. Meph just looked at Marcus, and marcus began to blush, his long, dyed-blue hair shifting about in the soft winds.
Meph stepped over to Marcus, and offered his hand. Theodore couldn't continue to look stern in the face of such a thing. So, he offered his hands to his daughters, and pulled them up off the floor.
Theodore walkd off, his arms around the children. Meph walked alongside them and Eoghan was left with the case. "So, what was in the case, dear Marcus?" was heard as the group walked away.
This went down in the history of the Blacik Sheep as *The night the kids ran away and became their own terrorists.* | 2018-01-31T12:13:05 | 2018-01-31T05:07:27 | 203 | 86 |
[WP] A cynical man finds a real hidden utopia. Spends the rest of his life trying to find something wrong with it. | I've spent more time in this place than I care to remember. It's perfect. *Too* fucking perfect. And I'm sick of it. I came here when I was just a kid and here I am now, an old man, waiting for the sweet release of death. I've spent years trying to find something wrong with this goddamned place. Something to wipe the smiles off all these smug faces. Something to make their world come crashing down.
I sit in this immeasurably comfortable chair on my porch watching I possibly perfect people walking by and suddenly, there's a pain shooting down my left arm. Here it is. My salvation. The thing to end this fruitless search for imperfection. I clutch my chest and my eyes go wide. I fall to my knees and scream out in pain as my heart fails to do its job. My vision goes black and I fade away.
I wake up hours later in a hospital bed.
I turn to the nurse and ask "What happened?"
"You had a heart attack," she said, "You're lucky we got to you just in time. This place is far too perfect to let you go. Here, no one ever dies. Ever."
I felt my heart sink. I will never die. Ever.
I just want to fucking die. | 200 hundred years he's tried to find the catch. That's right you can't seem to die here either. Figured that out a long time ago.
He had never been a good person, he wasn't even an alright person but he'd accepted that, he'd embraced that.
One day he woke up here, it was perfect. Glorious. Indescribable. A flawless world. It was so perfect that he was even allowed leave but reality was ruined for him. Food tasted like crap, the colours of the world less vibrant.
"This is my punishment" he thought. "Now I'll never be able to get back"
He could, with ease even.
200 years later he continues to search for a problem, drifting into infinity trying to force a solution. To explain why he deserves this.
| 2014-07-06T08:03:42 | 2014-07-06T07:20:51 | 54 | 32 |
[WP] Theorising that so-called "life-force" or "souls" is actually just the electricity coursing through the nerves of living things, you try to sacrifice a battery to a demon. | I had everything set up correctly, I think. A star within a pentagram within a circle, each point illuminated by a candle. I got as many of the called for herbs from the local farmers' market, but what couldn't be found there I got from the spice aisle in the supermarket. I figured fresh and organic was better, but I didn't know enough to know if there were things you could substitute. And I was only going to risk one substitution today.
I got out the piece of paper I had the Latin phrases typed, with their phonetic pronunciations penciled in over the top. All that mattered was the sounds coming out of my mouth, it didn't matter if I completely understood each part.
Here goes nothing.
I had a bowl of sage close by if I had to dispel the demon, but nothing was certain as I was switching out the main ingredient of the summoning: the soul. I began the chant smoothly, having practiced all the words and phrases for hours before starting. I felt the energy in the room building up, and I got a little nervous as well.
Palms beginning to sweat, I got to the last line. Now for the real test. The summoning ritual called for a bronze knife to be plunged into the sacrifice's chest. If I was right, this would satisfy the first half, and I would be left with the business of making a *very* carefully worded deal with a demon. If I was wrong, I would be electrocuted before it was even finished, and possibly release a partially summoned demon loose on Earth.
I swung the knife into the battery, closing my eyes at the last second. I felt a light jolt, then nothing. Opening my eyes and fearing the worst. Before me in the circle stood the demon, and the essence from the battery swirled as a bright blue light in the collection bowl at my feet. Wicked.
"Alright, let's get started-" I began.
"Deal!" interrupted the demon.
"Pardon?"
"Whatever you want kid, it's a deal. You could ask for my rotted mother's corpse to be reanimated and for her to be set as President of the United States and I'd say yes. Deal, deal, deal, deal, deal!"
"Holy shit," I said.
"An odd choice," the demon commented, "but it can be done. Nice doing business; with this much juice I can probably take on Hades." In a puff of a acrid sulfur cloud he was gone. | "Here's the soul you wanted," I said, smiling confidently at the demon lord whilst concealing a shit ton of nervousness. This was the very first time that I was ever doing this, though I had footage to suggest that it was true. Electric currents were responsible for the urban myth of 'souls'; the greater the ampere of the current, the stronger the soul. So here I was, presenting the strongest battery (a Lithium Ion one) I could find at home, hoping the demon wouldn't find out (since that would mean instant death).
The demon appeared to scrutinize it, though I knew his eyesight was terrible, a poorly hidden demon secret. Then came the ultimate test. He felt the battery about, trying to find the electricity that would characterize it as a 'soul'. Suddenly, he shrieked in delight, and my eyes widened in triumph. Would I succeed? Was this how I would win the Nobel Prize?
Instead, the shriek was replaced with a groan of disappointment as he roared at me. "There's no current! This isn't a soul!"
"What do you mean, sir..." I was about to hastily explain myself before I espied the plug where I had plugged the battery into
It was detached.
In a matter of seconds I re-attached it and re-presented the battery, silently berating myself for the death I had nearly brought about to myself and silently thanking the demon's short-sightedness. The demon tested it again, this time with far more success. He lifted up the battery triumphantly, as I watched, a surge of happiness flowing through me. Success never felt so sweet.
"For this wonderful soul, what would you like in return?"said he after pocketing the 'soul'. My answer was immediate and prepared.
"A lifetime supply of Lithium Ion batteries, please."
______________________________
For more reasons why you should *not* summon a demon, visit r/Whale62! | 2017-07-01T19:06:27 | 2017-07-01T18:21:46 | 1,551 | 825 |
[WP] A very serious story about a very silly thing. Surprise me | **(lots of "adult" language ahead)**
You red-haired, grinning, stupid son of a bitch. You just had to go and honk that fucking elastic noisemaker right in my goddamn face, didn't you. Thought it'd be funny to approach a baby's face and frighten all of my senses, huh? I've got sensory experiences I'm still figuring out, you polka-dot prick. I'm getting most faces down (yours is another story), I can figure most shit out when it's in my mouth, but I can't make out very many sounds, other than "I think it came from over there."
Your *honking* shit, though. My dear, sweet mother is going to have to cope with my recovery for the next half hour because of you. Inconsolable. No milk, plastic key rings, or mashed carrots are going to undo this shit you pulled. Cat's out of the bag now. Imagine how much talking I'd now have to do with my therapist, if I could talk... and had a therapist. All because some joker took his bit too far.
Oh, I get it, you're dancing now, trying to cheer me up. You think you're funny, you floppy shit? I've *shit* less floppy shits than you. Admit you fucked up and move on. I know you can't win 'em all, but count your god damn losses. Scrape up, shove out, and don't let me catch you around here again. Goddamn amateurs. Where's my rattle... | I entered the enourmous room which was slightly illuminated, my heart was beating faster and faster as the moments passed. Sweating, and frantically looking from side to side. The floor and walls were tightening every second I was present. People’s eyes were suspicious; I was the elephant in the room. I walked as stealthily as I possibly could manage, not invoking the unwanted attention. “There are some things in a man’s life that one should pass by" I thought, but I had made a promise with my loved one and I would not let her down. After a successfully sneaking my way i finally reached the destination, but the choices were numerous. Numbers, letters; 32B, 34A, 40D. My eyes were panic struck, the numbers, the numbers! I saw in the corner of my eye something approaching, it was closing in fast.
“Could I help you with anything, sir?” she asked with a sly smile.
I slowly turned around and met her dead in the eye, “I have no idea what size of bra my wife uses.”
---
A bit short, but oh well.
| 2016-11-17T10:52:05 | 2016-11-17T10:46:50 | 47 | 13 |
[WP]Your girlfriend is an alien whose species is only slightly different from human beings. What are those changes, and how do you find out?
Potentially NSFW | They came from space.
They looked like babes. The males: Even the most wretched of them was an 8 at worst. an 8 *female*, that is.
Sexual Dimorphism had been honed to a mere sliver of possibility in the millenia their species had been breeding. Turns out, earthlings weren't the only homo sapiens in the universe, and to boot, the female form is apparently the pinnacle of beauty to enough of the same gender to force the males to evolve... or perish.
The *Women*... God, the women. all Tens. Elevens. Women of such glorious beauty that earthlings would kill for a glance. Mine? She was an outcast, a pervert. Only a complete degenerate of their species would have found me attractive.
Turns out degenerates are great in bed. | Greg was an aspiring musician, tonight he was playing a gig at Coastal Town or something like that. That night he found love, gave up his career, and found something magical. A few weeks later he was talking to his girlfriend and asked about her family. She said she doesn't have one. Greg asked why, she said she wasn't human. She told him about her kind, the wars, and finally her history.
Her name was Rose Quartz. | 2015-09-05T14:42:39 | 2015-09-05T14:38:54 | 38 | 12 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence. | He looked at her expectantly. Waiting.
“Orange?”
He waited.
“Orange! CAT! MOTORBIKE!”
She tried so hard to get through to him but felt like nothing was happening. She searched for his eyes. Hers were beginning to moisten with the hopelessness of her situation.
“TELEPHONE!”
He looked straight at her, so confused. None of this made any sense. A grown women, almost twenty. What on Earth was going on?
“OCTOPUS! OCTOPUS!” She was screaming so loud now her throat was starting to hurt. She wanted water. Just one glass of water. She was trapped. She hoped it would be over soon.
He decided to end it. He reached his hand out and pointed.
“POTATO!” she screamed out through tears now covering her face.
He shook his head as he turned away from the one-way mirror and it took a moment for him to realise that this woman was the first in all his years of testing who had correctly guessed all six objects.
| Mom was singing Christmas carols again. The martini in her hand glowing like the contents of a broken glow stick. The dog was barking too. When I went to go look I could see children running around the classroom, having too much fun to notice the SS Titanic sinking into the giant kiddie pool outside. The sound of bagpipes commemorated the 100th anniversary of the sinking while trapeze artists flew through the air. I tried to catch one of their hands, but I was falling...
falling...
falling...
..out of my bed and onto the floor. | 2015-01-12T15:45:13 | 2015-01-12T10:42:43 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] You adopt a cat. On its first visit to the vet, you introduce them as Buttercup. When you turn away to get the adoption papers, you hear the veterinarian murmur, "So that's what you're going by this time, huh?" | The vet sighed as soon as she walked in the door. The vet tech broke down into a fit of giggles and bolted out the door.
“Buttercup, huh?” She snickered. “You’re playing along with that?”
I looked from my vet to the cat and back. Buttercup rolled onto her back and showed a gloriously fluffy calico cat belly. Her little curled-up stump of a tail twitched.
“She said it was after a princess from a movie. I’ll allow that.”
I sat down hard in the only chair in the room. Both the vet and *my talking cat, what the hell* looked over at me. “She wasn’t just a princess, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Buttercup blinked slowly. Her blue eye reflected more light than her green eye. “You are a flatterer, Wesley Roberts.” Her eyes shifted to the vet. “Going to a shelter was very embarrassing, but mama-San told me that I needed to, that my ideal human would find me there. So far, she’s been right.”
“Flattery works both ways, little cat,” I shot back.
Buttercup began to purr.
The vet tech came in carrying another cat—another petite, stunningly beautiful calico with a stub tail and odd eyes. “EMI!” The little cat leapt from the tech’s arms, using her chest as a launchpad, and landed on the exam table with whoever it was I had taken into my home.
“Kumiko!” Buttercup—Emi?—stood up and there was lots of rubbing faces and purring. The vet tech stroked Buttercup’s back. She had six fingers on her left hand.
The vet smiled. The corners of her eyes crinkled. “Sir, since the sisters here are having a love-fest, I guess I’m the one to tell you that you adopted a real live Maneki Neko. Congratulations. If you don’t play the lottery, now might be a good time to start.”
The rest of the visit was thankfully more pedestrian. Buttercup—Emi?—let the vet do the usual poking and prodding, albeit with hilarious commentary from Kumiko and lots of jokes about where the thermometer went. The vet whispered something to the vet tech, who disappeared and reappeared with a sprig of fresh catnip, which both cats obligingly rolled in. The vet pronounced Emi in good health and suggested that if Emi wanted to see her littermate, that I could call ahead and they would arrange a convenient time. And then we went home.
On my couch, with a magical beast on my lap purring, I asked her, “Do you want me to call you Emi?”
She put one ear back. If she had been a human, she probably would have bitten her lip.
“No,” she answered. “I like Buttercup.”
I rubbed behind her ears. “As you wish.” | "So you two know each other huh?", I said to reciprocate the Veterinarian's obvious joke. He did not seem to find it funny. At all. Is my timing really that bad?
"Sir, this cat is a know felon, I'm afraid I can't let him leave.", The Veterinarian said sternly. He glared at the small animal with what I thought was a disproportionate amount of hatred. I had just met Buttercup, but surely he could not warrant such hatred from a *person.* Surely it should be Buttercup who hates the Veterinarian?
I looked at Buttercup.
Buttercup licked his butthole.
I looked at the Veterinarian.
"Yeah ok dude, here's what we're gonna do", I said to the animal-helper-man. "I'm going to take my cat and go home, and you're gonna stop drinking before coming to work.", I lectured the sweaty and very bald Veterinarian. This was not a fight this dissolving potato was going to win.
"Say what you will", The Veterinarian began; baldness radiating from his scalp. "But this is a creature capable of great depravity!", he continued on as his glasses slowly slipped toward the tip of his nose. It was clear that the grudge between the Bald and the Buttercup was deeply personal.
Buttercup, having overheard this raucous slander, hissed at the barren-headed stump-man. The Veterinarian paused, before looking at Buttercup with a quizzical look in his eye.
"You weren't supposed to find out", The Veterinarian pleaded. I was stunned. Was he begging the cat for forgiveness? What in the world was going on here? It definitely wasn't breakfast. Buttercup began yapping angrily at the Man. I believe I even saw him ball his little paw into a fist. Buttercup may well have been ready to bust some balls.
I realized I did not understand the situation as thoroughly as I thought I did, as I didn't know this cat at all; nor did I know this awkward ailment of a man. In my bewilderment, I found I had not yet signed the adoption papers, and reasoned that my withdrawal from the situation was the best move.
I backed away from the absurd scene in front of me as carefully as I could. My heart rate slowed as I left the building; the fever dream of a veterinary visit now behind me.
I pondered what could have happened between the two, as I drove away from the veterinary hospital. | 2022-01-27T19:40:14 | 2022-01-27T12:13:03 | 121 | 31 |
[WP] You, a bassist, make a Faustian pact with a demon for incredible musical skill. No one notices.
I love the bass, I swear. | The show ended, and Micky Timbre had rocked the bass greater than any bassist in the history of music. The crowd went wild and clamored to reach the stage, but to Micky's horror it was the lead singer they were after.
The night did not get any better for poor Micky. Backstage, he asked his bandmates how they think the show went.
"Oh yeah Mickster, you nailed it. You hit that 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1 part perfectly."
"Perfectly, right? I know! Like, I don't think there was any better anybody could do!" Micky shot back quickly.
"Bar none," the singer now interjected, "I mean, if there's a king of playing those two notes over and over for four minutes, you're it."
Micky found some small solace in the words, but no fulfillment. He went to the bathroom and unstuffed his crotch and looked into the mirror.
"Satan, reveal yourself," he whispered into the reflection. His image changed into a repugnant and crimson visage of Dick Cheney.
"What is it, Micky child?" Satan responded in irritation.
"You said I would be the best, Satan!"
"Oh but you are, my child," Satan replied in a creepy wheeze.
"But nobody notices me!"
"We loved you down here, child! All the other bass players were rooting for you."
Micky was confused. He stuttered for a moment before composing himself.
"What? What do you mean?"
"Oh, my child, the others thought you did swimmingly!"
"What do you mean!?"
"Why, this place is full of bass players."
Micky slammed the mirror with his hand.
"Be gone, Satan!"
"As you wish, child," he wheezed and walked away, his footsteps making a 0-1-0-1-0-1-0-1 bass line as he left.
Micky ran back hurriedly to the green room where the band was unwinding. There were groupies everywhere. As he entered one of them approached him.
"Oh hey, can you get me a beer?" she asked, confusing him with the staff.
He bolted angrily away and down the hall where he locked himself in a closet and wept uncontrollably. The band, meanwhile was called for an encore.
It must be me, he thought, they must want me back out there!
As he attempted to wipe his tears he heard the singer address the crowd.
"Hey guys, we can't find Micky, our bassist, but we're just gonna go try this out without him!"
The band played a song, and Micky was heartbroken. The song was a hit, and the band realized that they didn't even need a bass player.
WHERE ARE THEY NOW:
Micky teaches bass lessons inside the Sam-Ash on Wednesdays and Fridays, and he weeps the rest of the week. Satan got a double-bypass and is healthier than ever. Sixty-four other bass players have made the pact since Micky did, all with similar fates.
| "I'll do anything, I swear!"
"Even sell your soul?"
"Yes, even that!" John wanted more than anything to actually be good with his guitar. It was his only dream, that people would like his compositions and playing skills. He would do anything, yes, even sell his soul.
"Alrighty, just sign on the dotted line, leave a drop of blood here, and enter your ZIP code on this keypad so the proper tax can be applied."
------
Just a day later, John had worked up the courage to play in front of an audience for the first time, and the first time playing since the deal. As he walked up the stairs to the stage, he felt the sweat rolling down his neck and forehead. The stage lights blinded him as he waited to the side, waiting for the act before him to end, a man who was much older than him, juggling expensive china, mirrors, and even one audience member's smartphone. He dropped it all, and the only survivor was, luckily for him, the phone. But now it was John's turn. As he walked up to center stage, his guitar in hand, he sat down in the rocking chair the talent show's planners had so graciously provided. In reality, it only took a few seconds to collect his thoughts, and prepare to play. But to him, it felt like an eternity, but, finally, he began to play.
When the song was finished, the first thing he was met by was total silence. "They didn't like it" was his first thought, but after a few seconds, he got a single clap.
That clap transformed into two, those two into ten, those ten into thousands. It lasted a solid five minutes, without even a hint of slowing down.
But eventually, the show must go on, even the best performances must end. The next person was brought onstage. But one thing was nagging at John: it sounded the same to him as he had always played. He cried the whole night. He had been scammed. Conned out of his soul, all for a talent he... already had?
It soon dawned on him, at the exact time the sun dawned on the city he lived in, that he hadn't sold his soul. It was all a dream, a dream induced by the alcohol he had had to try to stave off his depression. It was him telling himself, "The talent was inside you all along. Don't waste it, or you'll die like you are now."
So he practiced. He learned new songs, even made some of his own. That dream influenced him to get on with is life, but there was one thing that he didn't know. It wasn't a dream. And the angel in disguise wanted to keep it that way. | 2017-08-03T11:11:10 | 2017-08-03T10:28:01 | 410 | 47 |
[WP] We may not be the strongest, but our immune systems are legendary among alien races. There is a saying: "if it makes a human sick it will kill you." | *If it makes a human sick, it will kill you*
Ashley glanced over the survival pamphlet for the umpteenth time. Pulled off the corpse of one of the invaders that had come from the cosmos above, it was the single piece of information that had turned the tide of the war against the Lar’khii.
Initially it seemed as though all would be lost in a matter of months. Lar’khiish technology was at least a millennium ahead of the best that earth’s governments could throw at them. The aliens were bringing a nuke to a snowball fight, capturing humans alive and beaming them up, screaming, to ships where it was only learned later what kind of horrors awaited them. The experiments, the procedures, no boundary was left uncrossed to try to make a cure-all medicine that humans simply acknowledged as their immune system.
When that fateful pamphlet was found on the body of a slain Lar’khiian and translated, and the purpose of their invasion as well as the danger that humans posed to them.... Ashley couldn’t help but chuckle as she remembered how comical it was to watch. The most modern of armies relieved their soldiers of their useless firearms and cumbersome gear in favor of creating hyper-mobile pathogen vehicles. Instead of combat fatigues and weaponry, soldiers and civilians alike were issued athletic wear, running shoes, and chili peppers. A single sneeze, cough, tear, drop of sweat or mucus, or any other bodily secretion would have a Lar’khiian screaming with both its facial and torso mouths as they scrabbled at the infected area with their limb horns.
It was too late though. They were already dead. Ashley had seen it too many times to count, and just because she hated the alien species for terrorizing her home planet didn’t make reliving the grisly scene in her nightmares any easier.
It was always the same. Fifteen seconds after infectious contact, the area would transform from its usual pale yellow to a livid fuchsia.
Thirty seconds after exposure boils would appear on their hide, bursting forth with a runny black liquid that evaporated before it hit the earth. All four sets of teeth had crumbled to dust by this point and the tentacles sprouting from the top of their heads would soon follow.
Two minutes after exposure all six of their eyes would have burst, with both of their mouths simultaneously starting to leak the same black liquid that now seeped through all pores on their hide.
Only the largest of Lar’khiians had ever survived five minutes after exposure, which gave the human that had infected them plenty of time to run before their twenty foot tall corpse toppled over on them. Autopsies on these corpses to better understand their biology was impossible, as all that remained was a hollow, empty husk of their outer hide.
Ashley replaced her standard issue copy of the pamphlet back on her table and re-tied the laces on her running shoes. She decided to grab a bottle of whiskey on her way back from the front. She couldn’t risk being alone with the day’s memories tonight. | Mike looked up from the vomit splattered floor.
"Nope - not good," he said as he continued to dry heave over the sink. What made it worse was that the steady airflow that usually came from the "south" wall flowing steadily toward the "north" wall, would stop every time he got sick. He'd named the walls "north" and "south," but direction had no meaning. Time had no meaning with no sun or clocks. The still air would weigh on his shoulders and lungs and the smells would grow ever more rank. Only after he was walking around again and not showing the effects of illness would the airflow start up once again.
As far as he could tell both "north" and south walls were grates behind which were endless dark tunnels. Although they were thin bars, he could not seem to damage them in any way. The floor and ceiling were solid and glowed a soft white light. East and west were some kind of transparent walls behind which he could see his captors.
He'd learned to hate the expressions of concern through the glass, or at least, what he thought were expressions of concern. Did they care about him - their lab animal? "AIR!" He'd scream at them as the sudden stillness in the air brought a claustrophobia to just below the point of panic.
In the beginning, the patterns were mystifying. Was it the food, the drinks, the sprays, the smells that would cause the reactions? Sometimes just touching the food would cause him to get woozy and then the airflow would stop.
It was hard to tell, but he'd pieced together a few sounds and movements that seemed translatable. Mostly sounds of clicks and whistles, and probably something at frequencies too low or high for human ears. More would congregate by the glass on days he'd get sick. Groups would give lectures and point to what looked like MRI images of humans. The presentations sometimes ended on the lines either pointing to the stomach or the lungs. Sometimes on a mystifying network of tubes and dots. Cargo?
He'd worked out a few sounds as possibly translatable. "Life," "food", "healthy", "Human" and then he saw it. The diagram. The piece of the puzzle that was missing. He was the clam in the Warsaw water pumping station, the canary in the coal mine. Something that made him ill would kill the creatures that kept him as the food, water and air sampler.
And now that he knew the pattern behind what what was seemingly madness, he knew how to make his escape. | 2021-02-03T19:32:17 | 2021-02-03T19:22:53 | 102 | 34 |
[WP] An older version of yourself offers you immortality, the only catch is that you will be sent back in time 2000 years. Older you claims it's a great deal, but secretly they are miserable and want you to accept so they can transfer this horrible curse to you |
At first I didn’t believe him, none of it made any sense, time travel, immortality, the fact that I was speaking face to face with my future self, or my past self? I don’t know, it was confusing to say the least. But he looked like me, well a version of me at least. He and I shared features, the same facial structure, the same blonde hair and blue eyes, he even spoke with the same ridiculous speech impediment. 2,000 years and I can’t get rid of the damn speech impediment? However, he looked colder, his eyes were sunken and void of light, there were scars on his face and I could see more on his wrists, vertical stripes peeking through the tattered sleeves he kept adjusting in a vain attempt to hide them.
“Just think of all of the possibilities” he said through a forced smile, “you can be a god to the Egyptians, or the Vikings. You can change the course of history, stop Hitler when he’s young, maybe help him get into that art school. You can change the fate of humanity, find love a thousand times, experience the wonders of the world as they are created”. It was tempting, I didn’t want to be a god, at least this version of me didn’t want to. But the chance to help, to change the course of history, to create a better society, now that was tempting. “But what happens to you” I asked, his eyes shifted downwards, and his false smile faltered for a moment, “My time is over, I have had my centuries, my victories and defeats, my loves and losses, I don’t want it anymore”. I asked him to tell me more, to explain the self-harm marks on his arms, why did someone with so much life to look forward to want to end it so badly?
He dodged every question I had from there on out. “Don’t you want to see what’s to come, to experience it” was answered simply with “don’t you?”. “Don’t you have people you don’t want to leave behind” was simply left unanswered, his hollow eyes staring through me into his past. I tried asking a few more questions, where had he lived, who he had met, the rest of my questions were met with “it’s your turn, they are your choices”
I thought about the question for some time, I was engaged to a beautiful woman, had a good job and a home, I had a family that I loved. But if I’m being honest none of that really played into my decision, what did was the fact that I was terrified. I was terrified of the pain behind his eyes, of the torment that came with losing everyone you loved, of the decisions he had made that brought him to this point; a lingering shadow in this world with nothing left to look forward to but death.
I look back now on those moments and wonder if I made the right decision, I’ve only been here about two hundred years, such a small part of the eternity I am to endure, or enjoy, depending on my choices. I have not ruled anyone, nor have I acted as a god or false idol, I have simply lived and done my best. I have found love time and time again; I have saved lives and did my best to help those around me, and to make a brighter future. The man I met that day was an option, not a guarantee, I might find myself face to face with myself again, I may be the one haunted with the choices I have made and wishing for death. But at least now I have the choices to make, at least now I am in control, and with this immortality, I will simply do the best I can in every moment I am given. It will not always be enough, but it is all we can do. | Trevor looked at the old man, fighting off a headache. "Are you insane?"
"Oh come on, look at me. I'm you!"
"Impossible."
"Good lord, 30 year old me was stupid. Look carefully at me. Look at these features. I'm you... Just a few years older."
"How much older?"
"Around 435."
"435? Ok, now I know you're insane. That's impossible."
"Well, I'm offering immortality. It's possible."
A bright portal opened up as one more person appeared out of nowhere. "Trevor! Listen to me."
"Yes?" Both versions of Trevor answered at once.
"Oh boy this is going to be confusing isn't it. Ok. So I'm Trevor2077. Who are you guys?"
"I'm just Trevor."
"Oh good lord you idiot. He means append the current year, well atleast the year you belong to your name. That makes you Trevor 2020 and me, Trevor2455."
"2455? Wow."
"Yeah. I know."
Trevor 2077 looked at the youngest of them all. "2020. Damn. Quite a year that one. Have the murder hornets and the meth gators already happened."
"Yeah, small potatoes. What the fuck is going on?" Trevor2020 was on the verge of tears.
"He's kind of a crybaby ain't he?" Trevor2077 pointed his thumb towards the Trevor2020.
"Yeah totally."
Trevor2077 took control. "So 2020, here's the deal. He's probably offering you immortality right?"
"That's what he says, yeah."
"Ok, he just wants to die, passing on the curse to you and this timeline. I belong to your timeline and don't want this to change."
"Wait, so you're not immortal?"
"No. Just have a good skin care routine."
"You guys are confusing me. Is it possible to die of confusion?"
Trevor2455 jumped in. "Hey! Don't listen to him. 2077 is overrated."
"I say its properly rated. So anyways, Trevor2020, the deal is that there should be no deal."
At that point, a flash of light interrupted the proceedings. "Who's the youngest of you all?"
Trevor2020 cautiously raised his hand. "And who are you?"
"Doesn't matter."
"It doesn't? Well that's a relief cause I would hate for another trevor to come in and conf..."
The newcomer took out a gun from his pocket and shot him. Trevor2077 disappeared as well, removed from the timeline before he even existed, the poor guy.
Trevor2435 looked at him, shocked. "What did you do?"
"You came here to pass on the curse presumably?"
"Well, yeah. It was the only way."
"I have another. I'm headed to the next timeline. I'm going to kill Trevor2020 in all the timelines. I could use some company. I feel like we could get along well together."
"I suppose we could. Say, do you like pineapple?"
“In a juice, yes. On a pizza, nope." The newcomer looked at Trevor2020's body, as blood was pooling around his head.
"Poor guy."
"Well, at least he didn't have to live through 2021." | 2020-12-14T19:04:32 | 2020-12-14T18:35:40 | 310 | 92 |
[WP] You are part of a group of survivors in a zombie apocalypse, but you have a secret... you're actually a vampire. | It had only been six months since the outbreak went viral. I sat alone in the basement of an abandoned parking lot we'd taken refuge in, collecting my thoughts as to how I should proceed. During daybreak I often remained here, waiting for the others to return from their scavenge runs. It was dark, and comfortable. They didn't think so however, and often spoke amongst each other about my mental health. Their fears and suspicions concerning my character were often topics of discussion.
"I think he killed Charlie." one of them proclaimed during their secret conversations.
Little did they know, I could hear everything they spoke of. I could hear the game they hunted, sparse as it was in the forests surrounding our encampment. I could hear the dead shuffling through those forests as well, searching for their own next meal. I could smell their rotting blood dripping from their animated corpses. It turned my stomach and made me weak.
Society had deteriorated into a scramble for survival. Yet, this was something I was all too familiar with. I'd been accustomed to surviving by whatever means necessary. Although, the outbreak was now presenting new riddles that needed solving. The blood of the dead was no nourishment for someone of my stature. In fact, it was putrid. Sickening. There was no way I'd be able to survive for long and extend my lifespan in a world of rotting carcasses. Therefore, my only option was to aquire the trust of the survival groups, where the blood was pure and full of adrenaline. At least until I was able to make my way to the blood banks of the inner city, which I was able to convince them was worth traveling to.
They were right though, to distrust me. I did kill Charlie. I waited until nightfall three days ago, when Charlie was cleaning his rifle by the fire pit. I'd already gained his friendship through our common interest of hunting techniques. I spoke to him frequently of how to properly track game, how to lure in a target, how to deliver a killing blow. Little did he know that he was the game I was hunting. His blood poured down my throat with a nourishing satisfaction. The smell of iron filled my flaring nostrils as I tore away at his neck. There was nothing my senses found to be more exotic than a fresh meal.
I left him right there by the fire, his neck wound gouged and pulsing. I was certain the rest would believe it to be an attack by one of the shufflers, but Lucy with her quick wit was able to discover blood stains near my dwelling. It wasn't like me to leave crumbs. I must be losing my strength I thought.
I decided than and there to off the remaining survivors that very night. Their suspicions would only lead to their deaths, so no point was made in postponing it further. A feast for my strength was necessary if I planned on continuing it alone.
When the full moon reached it's highest peak in the starry sky, and the group gathered around the pit to have a feast of their own, I emerged from my slumber in the basement and approached them with caution. They all watched me, their eyes full of resentment and fear, as if I myself was a shuffler. I was greatly offended. They had no understanding of what I actually was. What I had been for centuries. How dare they compare me to the infested remains of lowly creatures such as themselves. This was my world now, and they were simply my next meal.
As I ravaged Lucy's neck, sucking ferociously on her jugular, the others lay dead or wounded by my actions. That was when I heard it. It wasn't the death moans of John, struggling to grasp the last bit of life he had left in him, or the sound of shufflers making their way to the smell of freshly spilled blood, nor was it the cracking fire whipping about in the silence of the night. It was something much farther away. Faint at first, but growing with every gulp of blood that poured down my esophagus.
I released Lucy's weak body and hovered above her, listening...
A howl. So long and chilling that I knew it wasn't from any ordinary canine. | My eyes blurred as I felt the hunger sinking in I must look sick to the others it’s getting very hard to hide who I am. It had been a few months since the outbreak happened something I only thought would be in one of those stupid video games my cousin Carl played. Carl, he was one of the first close to me to go.
“Jack, c’mon buddy we need you to focus.” Dexter was looking at me I could see the suspicion in his eyes. If I had been turned he’d have no choice but to kill me. I have no idea if I could be double infected, this curse of being a vampire was bad enough but a vampire zombie? Could that even work? I gave him a toothless smile to show I was fine, the pangs in my stomach told me otherwise. I needed to feed on fresh blood. The rotten gunk in the zombie’s bodies made me gag and gave the scent of a rotten corpse, I’d rather starve than poison myself.
“I’m fine Dex, seriously just feeling a bit weak from lack of sugar.” I had been pretending to be a diabetic for the past week to explain my white skin and constant sick looking, but to be honest I had no idea what a diabetic would say or do in this situation, if we got a doctor in the group I’d be in knee deep shit.
Our ‘group’ is a rag-tag bunch of survivors consisting of 5 people including Dexter and myself. Dexter is the leader of the group since he is the only one who has any type of shooting experience going out hunting as a hobby. Stacy is what I’d call 2nd in command she has a good head on her shoulders and is able to get everyone to help no matter what they’re good at. Then there’s myself, Fred and his kid Sam. Fred’s wife was killed a few days after they escaped the city centre. He and Sam stumbled on the group a few days ago.
“Jack, stop daydreaming search that building for some food I’ll stand guard outside.” He pointed his gun towards a small store the shelves still had some items on them the last few we hit had barely anything this was promising. I nodded slowly moving towards the door my hand hovered over the knife in my pocket. Not that I needed it the only reason I am alive is because of being a vampire. Zombies are stronger than a simple mortal but I’ve found that my increased speed and strength make it easy to kill the pesky buggers. I remembered the torch I had in my pocket forgetting that I shouldn’t be able to see in the dim light I turned it on trying to keep up my act.
I browsed the shelves grabbing what I saw a few tins of food and some water bottles could come in handy. Walking further through the aisles I noticed some medical supplies if I had a heart it would be racing right now, I stuffed as much as I could in my backpack and pockets. Stopping suddenly I could hear ragged breathing coming from the next row instinctively reaching for my knife I turned the corner. A woman lay on the floor in front of me her legs underneath a shelf slowly I walked up to her in case she had been infected. The scent of fresh blood caught my attention she looked to be in serious agony and her legs were crushed under the shelves even with no medical knowledge I knew there was no way she would survive.
“Please, just kill me.” I could see the pain in her eyes as she spoke I struggled to focus on her words kneeling down beside her my fangs pierced my dry lips the taste of my own blood drove me crazy. Not able to help myself I brought my mouth to her neck and pierced down the rush of fresh blood filled my veins, it felt so good, I felt alive again gulping down what I could before hearing a noise behind me.
“Jack what the fuck are you doing?” | 2015-10-11T06:53:38 | 2015-10-11T04:24:57 | 55 | 18 |
[WP] You've been living in your home for ten years. For some reason, every month, an envelope with half your rent appears on the table. You never questioned it. One day, you see a familiar man walking out of the vacant guest room. You remember he said, a decade ago, "you won't even notice I'm here." | This is the first one of these I have ever done, go easy on me! :)
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------
He appeared suddenly, without warning. A tall quiet man with kind eyes. He looked like a detective out of a crime novel set in the nineteen fifties. He had a black hat, a black coat, and a pair of small glasses hanging on the end of his nose.
"Hello," he whispered softly. "I require a room." He glanced around nervously and then reached in his coat pocket. Slowly, he pulled out an envelope and handed it to me. "What is this?" I asked giving the man a confused stare. "Half." was his short reply. To my surprise I opened the envelope to find crisp bills. Counting them i realized what he meant, this amount was exactly half my rent.
"What you want to live in my house? This isn't nearly enough money." I say angrily, putting the money back in the envelope and holding it out for him to take. "Each month." He responded, again so quiet i could hardly hear him. "I don't know about this, I don't even know who you are!" I say as I again offer him the envelope back.
"Yes?" he whispered, then reached for the envelope. "Or no?"
I had a keen intuition. I could tell this guy wasn't dangerous. I had been struggling to make ends meet and half my rent paid would really help me out. My mind said no, but my gut said why not.
"Okay." I said, taking the envelope and opening the door. "You can have the room in the back, I don't use it. If things get weird I will ask you to leave."
"Understood." Said the man as he walked toward the back. "I promise, you won't even know I am here." With a nod and a slight grin, he disappeared into the back room. "Wait!" I cried out to him. "I don't even know your name!" There was never any response. In fact i never heard from him again.
​
That was ten years ago.
​
The rent appeared every month on the first day. I would go to sleep and wake up to an envelope on the kitchen counter. It always contained exactly half the rent. There was never a note, or anything else. The man didn't purchase any groceries, or do laundry, or come out to use the restroom. From the other side of the door there was only silence.
I had thought about opening the door, but every time i reached for the handle something in the back of my head said to let it be. I don't know why but I knew I had to leave him alone. It was an unusual arrangement, but he wasn't hurting or disrupting anything in my life. I had decided to accept it and live life as normal.
I was sitting in the chair, enjoying a glass of orange juice and and a biscuit. The only noise i could hear was the ticking of the clock and the faint sounds of the TV in my bedroom. I had forgotten to turn it off again.
"Hello" came the voice from behind me. I gasped in surprise, spilling my orange juice down the front of me. I stood in shock and whirled around to see him. The same man from a decade ago, in the same clothes with the same kind look in his eyes.
"Where on earth have you bee-" I start to shout, but he holds up a finger to silence me.
"It is time." He says as he turns and opens the door to the vacant room.
I am about to yell again when i look toward the door. I cant believe my eyes. What I am seeing is entirely impossible, yet there it is. "For you." He says with a grin, motioning me toward the door. "For letting me stay."
I stepped through the door to the back as he walked out the door in the front. A wave of excitement and wonder washed over me. My life would never be the same, from that day forward.
Normal? I never knew normal again. | I woke up scared. My heart was beating a million miles an hour. The clock glowed softly 1:30AM. Looking around the room I noticed two red eyes staring at me from my desk.
My heart froze.
"Mew," My cat said softly. I sighed, all the fear I felt in leaving me. I got up and turned on the lights. I squinted at the sudden change of light. My cat meowed again annoyed. "Sorry, Vix but I got to get up." I told her.
People always portrayed cats as selfish and unforgiving. Not Vix. She got up from my desk, walked over to me and brushed her self against my legs purring. I smiled. Rescued as a kitten she was the only one who kept me company.
My friends came over occasionally but I didn't like being alone. I walked over to my bathroom and turned on the lights. Looking in the mirror I could see my hands shaking. I took deep breaths. "Calm down," I told my self. Vix jumped on the small counter and looked up at me. I petted her.
Then I heard I moan from outside my room. My eyes widened. I walked over to my bedroom door when I remembered. Vincent. My ghost of a roommate.
I went into our living room feeling self-conscious about the burn scar on my hand. I was usually wearing a glove at least to cover it up. I looked around in the darkness but couldn't make out anything.
"Hello?" I asked quietly.
Nothing.
Turning to leave I noticed a weird mass of darkness on the floor. I fliped the light switch. Vincent was curled in a ball on the floor. I gasped. "Stay there I'm calling 911," I told Vincent. He moaned softly.
My phone was on my desk. I grabbed it. Its screen lit up long enough for me to see it one percent left. Then it died. *No no no this is not happening!* I thought to my self. *How could I forget to charge my phone?* I threw the phone back on my desk, and I ran back to Vincent.
"Hey, what happened where does it hurt?" I asked him. He shook his head. "Help me get in my room." He told me. I grabbed him by his arm and held him up. He leaned on me for support, and we walked to his room. I opened his door. Weird symbols covered his walls. The ceiling was dotted with lights vaguely resembling stars.
I felt a mixture of concern and awe. "What are you an astronaut?" I joked. Vincent shook his head.
"Alien."
I chuckled.
He groaned.
He glanced at me his blue eyes glowing. I stared at him confused. *I'm dreaming.*
Vincent shook his head. *I wish you were, cause this hurts.* My mouth fell open. "How did you speak in my head?" I asked quickly. *The bed.* He spoke, thought?
I took him to his bed. Vincent grabbed a syringe filled with green liquid . Gritting his teeth he plunged the syringe into his arm. His eyes glowed hotter blinding me. Then they stopped. Vincent sighed and then laid back on his bed. Then he got back up.
I stared at him.
He nodded like he just thought of something. "Well I would wipe your mind but I wont," He told me. "Thanks," I said feeling anxious. Vix walked in and sat next to my leg.
"I guess I owe you a few answers."
Hope ya'll enjoyed it! If you didn't feedback is appreciated! Thanks. | 2019-05-15T15:06:00 | 2019-05-15T14:57:26 | 35 | 20 |
[WP] In vampire society, it is a capital offence to touch prey marked by a senior vampire. There is a very good reason they all shy away from the cross.
All credit to [https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/wwon7a/in\_vampire\_society\_it\_is\_a\_capital\_offence\_to/](https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/wwon7a/in_vampire_society_it_is_a_capital_offence_to/)
I just thought it'd make an interesting prompt. | "We can't go in there, Victor"
"Why not, Rabbi?"
The Rabbi stood there for a second, his face one movement away from laughter, before recomposing itself and replying, "I guess you wouldn't yet know. You know how whenever we scout, I leave a mark somewhere on the property?"
"Yes, Rabbi. What does that have to do with this house? I don't see any special marks."
"But you do. Do you see that wooden cross on the wall, by the fireplace?"
"Yes, Rabbi. That's the mark of Christianity as a religion. I know of no vampires that have that mark."
"The one they call Christ is not a simple religious figure. He is the first and most powerful vampire there is. It's because of him that you call me Rabbi. It's also because of him that we can't feed from this house."
"Pardon me, Rabbi. If Christ was a vampire, how did he get into so many houses? Why can't we feed from this house, if we have fed from houses already marked before?"
"It's simple how he got in so many places so quickly. Since he is a powerful religious figure, many put the cross into their house themselves after accepting him into their hearts, a much more powerful symbol of invitation than simple invitation into their physical homes. They believe they are under his protection, and in a sense, they are.
"You see, while they have the cross in their homes, Christ is the only being that can feed on them. He goes out of his way to defend the places where he will later feed. If we had gone in there, we would've met an end to our normally immortal lives. Typically, as vampires grow older, they also grow in power. Therefore, it's a rule to avoid feeding upon a place marked by a vampire senior to you, because if you do, you will lose against the senior vampire. Every marked house we have fed upon has been a mark of a vampire junior to me, so we were fine."
"Pardon me again, Rabbi. If the cross is the mark of Christ the vampire, then why are many people still unmarked by the stench of vampires?"
"The reason is simple, Victor. Since many accepted Christ into their heart without later revoking it, instead of feeding on their blood while they are alive, Christ feeds on their souls after they die."
​
P.S. I tried not to break any rules on religion. If I did, then I'm sorry and am more than fine with this story being deleted. | He was the one above all, and his Mark was the cross. The earliest of vampires all watched when he was once upon the Earth. When he had a son, the Romans saw him for what he was, and yet they did not strike; they waited. Years passed in that biding time, when the son took up the Mark of the father.
Some believed him to be the father of all vampires, our powered blood coming from his veins. Others believed him to merely be a powerful vampire, with powers beyond our own. Even more sought to covet the abilities that he had learned. Yet none of that matters. All that truly matters, is that no vampire touches the cross.
The cross was their Mark, before the Son himself died. After His death, the Father disappeared, as if he had never existed in the first place. The blight of fear that kept the human's at bay had now disappeared. They began to walk freely upon the Earth, inventing technologies unprecedented, whilst Vampires began to flounder in darkness.
We were once able to walk amongst the light of the sun, freely feeding whenever it is that we pleased. We were your esteemed nobles, men of great power and greed. But then the Father disappeared, and with it, the slightest portion of our power. We became weak, even when we are strong; stuck within the meager lights of the moon.
One truth, is that vampires do not have night vision. We have the same vision as everyone else, only from need do we exist within the land of the dark, only by need are we better with our reactions. Such is the common shape upon which our world takes. A sad truth, but one nonetheless.
But now, within the depths of the night, there are whispers of the Father, and of his return. Hopeful reassurances have made themselves known by those deep into the alleyways. None can know for sure, but we all hope...We all hope for the Father's return. | 2022-09-05T08:55:39 | 2022-09-05T08:22:18 | 676 | 171 |
[WP] At 19 everyone in your society has to go into the cave of fears and defeat your worst fear. You're the first to go in and find nothing.
edit: I want to read them all but there are so many it's hard to keep up, so many variations of the story I didn't even think of, great job everyone! | Draped in golden chains and adorned with all sorts of finery the five elders looked down on him. The great hall normally used for extravagant feasts on the year days had been cleared out. Jacob knelt in the center. He felt countless eyes on the back of his head.
"And you say you found nothing."
The tone was calm enough, but underneath there was a coldness, almost accusatory."
"Yes."
Each of them glanced at one another.
"You are aware that lying about this is-"
"I'm not lying!" he blurted out, before he could stop himself. He bit his lip, realizing he'd just cut off an elder. That in itself could be considered an offense. *Just calm down* he told himself. *It's fine. You're not in trouble, there's no way this is your fault*. They would see that wouldn't they? Maybe he should've just lied. Said he'd fought a giant snake or something. But he'd been so confused; he'd needed to know.
That was the weird part; he wasn't *brave*. He'd been scared of lots of things, fire, heights. He'd been bitten by a dog when he was four, and he'd been *sure* that there'd be some sort of hellhound waiting for him in that darkness, but no. Just more darkness. He'd wandered in there for hours until his torch was almost a wick, desperately spluttering on those last drops of fat. And when he'd finally emerged into the light, everyone had immediately engulfed him; many had been worried sick, others believed that he'd died.
Then, as he'd told them what happened, those concerned eyes, those relieved smiles, faded. What replaced them was mass confusion. Some had thought he must be mistaken. Others that he had something to hide. They didn't say anything more but he could see it in their eyes. Their mistrust. Their fear. It wasn't long before he'd been shipped off to this meeting.
It wasn't fair. He'd always tried to do everything the right way. He'd trained. He'd read the scrolls. He'd drank and laughed with his friends and watched each of them go into the cave and come out a different person. Broken, yet also, in a weird way, stronger. Why couldn't he have that? Why was he different? And now here he was, on his knees, pleading for mercy for a crime in which he hadn't even *wanted* to commit.
"Jacob, are you listening?"
He started. He hadn't realized he'd zoned out. What had they said?!
"I-I'm sorry I didn't...hear you."
"Very well I will repeat myself. As we have never seen anything like this before, and you continue to maintain your version of events, we cannot, for the moment, allow you to continue in your training."
Something inside him went cold.
"Furthermore, as we cannot say for sure as to the nature of this event, we have to assume the worst. I am sorry, but as long as you are here we cannot guarantee the safety of any of the citizens of this city. You are thereby exiled until such a time as-"
"What?!"
"I'm sorry."
"You can't do that! I didn't **choose** to not see anything! I **wanted** to! You can't punish me for that!"
"We have no choice"
He was shaking now.
"FUCK YOU!" everyone gasped.
Armored guards were moving in now.
"This isn't fair! Please!"
This couldn't happen. This wasn't happening; it felt like a dream. He had to think of something. Anything.
"You don't know why I didn't see anything. What it's for a good reason?! What if you need me for something?!"
They all just watched, unspeaking. He felt something grip his shoulder and reflexively pulled away. It had been one of the guards. The other one was trying to circle him, cutting off his exit.
"Get off me!"
More guards were moving in now; even some of the spectators were joining in. A man made a grab for him from the crowds, but Jacob pushed past him. He made for the door but people were grabbing him by the arms.
"Let go of me! Let go!"
He was now smothered by warm bodies, the stench of sweat and body odour making him gag. He kept reaching for the door. He was so close. Just a few....more....inches.........
And then the stench dissapeared. He was hit by a cool, moist breeze, mixed with the scent of grass and wildflowers. He collapsed onto the grass, panting heavily. He felt sunlight on his back. He tilted his head to the side, so he might catch it on his face. Were they still chasing after him? He didn't care. He just wanted to lie here for a while. He'd just lie here and-
"Jacob!"
No not now, please...he just needed a bit more time...
"It's Jacob! He's over here!"
He heard the patter of people rushing over to him.
No...
"Jacob! Are you awake? Can you hear me?"
"Please...."
"He's alive! Someone get water, quickly for fuck's sakes!"
Water, what?
"Jacob, look at me... I said *look*."
He felt someone tilt his head. A girl was standing over him, maybe a few years older than him, he wasn't sure.
"You're safe okay? You're out. It's over."
Over? What was she?...for the first time he noticed his surroundings. This wasn't right. The great hall was in the center of the city, where were all the buildings? He realized the girl was talking again.
"We were trying to search for you but no-one could find you."
He didn't understand. "What..."
"Everyone thought you'd died. You've been in that cave for days." | "There's nothing in here..." she said, almost disappointed
The premise that the cave of fears was empty was very disappointing for Julia, who only just celebrated her 19th birthday. As per tradition in her town, she had to enter the cave of fears to face her greatest fear of all time. But what should she face if there's nothing to face to begin with?
"Uh... GUYS! THERE'S NOTHING IN HERE!" she called out.
However, she did not receive an answer. As per tradition as well, the people outside of the cave should never answer any screams, calls, or anything for that matter. All they have to do is sit and watch for 3 hours.
She remembered that rule and decided to go deep inside the cave, maybe she will find something if she walked further in, but there was... Well... Nothing.
Not just any kind of nothing though, there was no light, no sounds, nothing. She can't even feel anything as the cave's walls, floor, and ceiling had... Well, no feeling to them it felt empty, very empty.
Julia's heart started to beat faster as her mind engulfed in fear, she couldn't see anything, feel anything, or hear anything aside from herself, Julia couldn't decipher anything, including directions, there was no light from the start of the cave that can lead her to the entrance and to the people of the town, she just sat down, in ignorance, as she hears her heart beating faster and faster.
What can she do? When there are no directions, no hope, no light, nothing?
She opened her eyes widely, and hugged her knees, maybe a little bit of comfort can help. But nothing could help, there was nothing to hold onto that can help, she was mortified.
"GUYS!" she called, louder this time. "I'M LOST! HELP ME OUT OF HERE!" she added.
But there was no answer, nor was there help.
As she was sitting down, for 30 minutes, she could clearly hear her breathing, her hear beating, her blood flow, and a constant zinning in her ear.
And that left her even more afraid.
"GUYS!" she called, her voice cracking as her tears were falling. "TAKE ME OUT OF THIS!" she couldn't find words to describe how she was. There was nothing to describe
An hour and a half later. Julia started sobbing loudly. Her tears were falling until there was no tear to cry, she wanted to run back, but there was nothing to run back to. So she was walking around aimlessly. She was insane.
"GUYS, GUYS WHERE ARE YOU? I'M SO SCARED! GUYS I'LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING. I'LL DO ANYTHING, JUST GET ME OUT OF HEEEEERREEE. WHO CARES ABOUT SOME WEIRD TRADITION IN SOME WEIRD CAVE, JUST PLEASE GET ME OUT OF HERE!" she cried, knowing that her voices amounted to nothing.
By 2 hours, she just sat down. By that time she realised she couldn't call out to anyone, there was no hope
No direction
Nobody
Nothing to hold on to
No escape
No light to see
No sound to hear
And nothing to feel
Julia didn't call out to anyone, even though she wanted, more than anything else, for someone to help her out.
2 hours and a half had passed, and by that time, Julia started to get hungry and thirsty as well. But there was nothing to eat, nothing to drink either. So she gave up her hunger.
For a time that felt like eternity, after all, there was no time she could feel, the final second had passed. And it was time for Julia to leave the cave. But she couldn't leave can she? There was no escape, no directions, nothing.
"Hey, Julia?" called a foreign voice. Foreign to the situation she was in at least, but very familiar to Julia. It was her best friend Kayla, she entered the cave to announce to Julia that her time had passed.
"Oh... Finally" said Julia, calmly. "Kayla there's nothing, it's so scary, I don't even know where the exit was I am so terrified, please take me out of here" she added.
"Julia, what are you saying? The exit is 10 metres away." said Kayla "We were watching you aimlessly walking around and crying from the entrance, we wanted to intervene but town elder said not to until the 3 hours are over."
Julia, feeling stupid, laughed. She laughed heartily as she held Kayla's hand and stood up. "Well then, take me there, also I'm kinda hungry, take me to Al's bakery" she said. mind you, at that time she still couldn't see anything, but she was glad she could hear and feel Julia at least.
As Kayla lead her to the exit, a beam of light shone through Julia's eyes. She was glad it was all over.
But that crazy laughter she had, Julia realised that maybe, just maybe
There was nothing at all. At that time it felt like all her senses were blocked, all her family and friends abandoned her, that she was dead, but her consciousness remained intact.
There was nothing to fear
Which was exactly why, more than anything else, she was afraid. | 2016-06-12T10:50:09 | 2016-06-12T10:12:38 | 134 | 56 |
[WP] It is illegal to contact the humans, as they wear an evolutionary scar from their time as prey. It is known as "fear" and it makes them volatile and unpredictable.
Optionally, you are releasing an article of your interviews with them before they were illegal
Edit: look at that, my first reddit gold! Until now I've been wearing [this] (https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=E8RPorI6bis) | In the year 6892 FA, three hundred years after the galactic treaty, humanity made first contact with the galactic belt. They first met and traded with some relic scanners in dead space who'd mistaken their basic craft, (binary computers, lithium-ion power cells, hydrogen and nuclear fuels, along with a primitive mobile warp gate.) for a dead piece of machinery from the lost times.
From there, the small group of humans traded knowledge, technology, and resources. This first group of humans ventured back to their home system that they know as "Sol-1" but we know it as Arkov t6b. With the new tech strapped to their ships, these humans told of what they'd encountered, and from that point, trade agreements and business lines strung across the galaxy. Quickly the humans spread, with their relatively short lifespan and heard mentality driving them to procreate, they soon dominated over thirty different star systems. After this was their first conflict. The Baan, (an ancient race of AI, the last relics of their creators) were not pleased with the rate at which these humans were consuming all around them. So they cut the trade lines, sabotaged their tech and crushed them in wars that raged for over two decades. Eventually the humans were charged back into little more than five systems, three of which were populated by no more than a few moon bases and rogue ships collecting water from gas giant rings. They later became a satrapy of the Baan, feeding off the bare bones scraps of whatever tech and resources the Baan left behind.
The humans were angry and weak. Not uncommon for an emergent sentience, their one difference was fear. All races contained the mental capacity for "fear" but it was not the driving force behind their actions like humanity's. Where other races had sprouted up as telepathic jellysquid, or ocean dwelling predators, the humans had developed as weak creatures, dying just as quickly as they were born in their natural habitat. This drove them towards a fear based lifestyle, so strong that as their societies grew, every religion that ever prospered was based entirely around a human's fear of death.
This fear was what started their second conflict, known as the expansion wars. Like a wild animal in a cage being poked with a hot iron, humanity grew fiercer and more hateful everyday. They became more and more aware of their imminent destruction at the hands of the Baan (once the Baan had fully recovered, and saw no further use for humanity, they would wipe them out like the infestation they perceived them to be). So humanity schemed and plotted, they found chinks in their ruler's armor, weaknesses in the Baan quantum code. One day, swiftly, the trapped became free, and the overlords became the underdogs. Humanity washed over the Baan, destroying their societies, histories, values and stealing their wealth and power. Soon humanity was a new force to be reckoned with amongst the galactic belt. But they were not just a force to be reckoned with, they were a force to be feared. And what greater danger is there than a terrifying beast that is itself terrified. Humanity had never signed any treaties, they'd never broken any species-wide deals. They were a nothingness, an emergent race in the eyes of galactic belt law. Or an infection. They perceived themselves as something to be eaten, whilst all other species perceived them as something that eats. Because when an organic race "easily" wipes out one of the most ancient and revered artificial races of all time, what is there to say? What is there to do?
The humans sat atop their metal throne, forged of dead robotic bodies, they used whatever pathetic husks were left of the Baan and created an empire that spanned three times that of what they had before. Powerful and wealthy, scared and volatile, they waged wars for petty and unneeded reasons across the galaxies. Eventually other races were dragged in, and soon, the final conflict was at hand, the intergalactic war.
See humans were still weak, petty, and naive. Their counterparts and peers were almost all, smarter, definitely all older, and all a lot less aggressive. Humans were still yet to be unified. Their communications systems were slow. They used a mix of binary and quantum computers which they barely understood. Every technological advancement was a military advancement. This made them bicker. This made them dystopic. This made them kill other races and it made every group of humans have a different perception of right and wrong.
So the first and hopefully final intergalactic war broke out. Humans fought every alien species. Every alien species fought humans. And after two hundred years of fighting, humanity finally started to waver. Not because they were weak. Because they forgot why they fought. They forgot who they were. They lost so much societal structure until there was none left.
It has been just over one thousand years since the first contact was made with humans. And it has been just over one hundred years that they've been quarantined to the brown and yellow rock they call home (because genocide of any kind is a strict illegality within the galactic belt treaty, though humans seemed to be rather proficient at it). With over 30 different races monitoring their galaxy, surrounding it at all times, the hope is that one day, the humans will fizzle out and die for good.
*If you like this I have my own subreddit which I will now plug:* /r/heav3nly
*It's new and a real fixer upper but give it a sub and check in every once in a while as I hope to post there frequent enough to gain a subscriber/fanbase!*
*Thanks - Heav3nly* | [Undisclosed desert region, at sundown]
_ <Human, could you come to my tent for one second?>
Roger, the only human in the team, nods, leaving his bonfire and passing 3 other soldiers, four times his size each, dragging the company's standard small arm, which for him was a comically large bazooka looking thing, with an improvised belt made out of ropes. He doesn't know what his "new friends" were hissing about, but his expression didn't seem to change.
Getting in the tent, he drops the gun and salutes his sergeant.
_ <No need for formalities here.>
_ <Why do you need me, sergeant?>
_ <Someone up top knows you've been wandering around with us. I don't know for how long they know it or how, but the intel folk have told me about the rumours. Things can get messy if you don't leave, so please, pack it up. >
_ <Sir, with all due respect it's just rumours, since when do we give a damn about them?>
_ <Since I am the one wanted in 50 planets, and don't need to be in another 100, so don't "we" me.>
_ <Sir, I've been busting my ass for this team-->
_ <And you knew that you were expendable from the get-go, like the rest of us.>
_ <And I accepted it if you'd get me close to the capital, that was the deal. If I knew you could just leave me in the middle of the desert, I would've rather stayed in the village, as bad as it was.>
Roger hears hissing. He didn't know what they meant. He only knew they sounded different from the ones used in this conversation.
_ <This is your last chance-->
Roger's eyes open wide seeing a few rocks shaking on his sergeant's desk, and shoots his head on a quick reflex, causing a messy explosion of yellow bits.
Giant bug-like creatures burst from the sand floor, hissing.
_ <Quick, 30 meter spread, find him!> - one of the creatures hisses, followed by 4 of them getting away from the tent. The creature used the gun Roger had by attaching it to his large arms, carrying six guns total that way.- <I told you, there's a reason why we can't even get near these animals.>
The giant hear a gun clicking above his head. Moving his antenna-like eyes up, he sees the human carrying a sawed-off double barrel shotgun, with the standard K.Yz-85 on his back.
_ <Really, because I could swear you weren't at all against me here before.>
_ <You got me, human. I thought you'd be some really good cannon fodder. Kinda forgot your race is more worried about dodging than fighting.>
_ <Yeah, ain't that a bitch?>
_ <I'm not surprised that one of your race of backstabbers would hide something, but what's that little toy in your hand?>
_ <It's called a shotgun. Easy to make, easy to use, and unlike your fancy slingshot, the bullets go so fast not even a human can dodge.>
_ <Unless you found a way to put explosives in it, that's not gonna kill me.>
_ <I don't need to.>-Says the human, smiling.
As the creature's eyes blow up, the "thunder" is heard from miles away. The human runs away from the tent, as the rest of the soldiers run to it. The new sergeant is touching the ground trying to see where he is, and the old one sitting there, with his head exploded and two of his arms holding giant knifes under the table.
Various explosives detonate around the camp, killing everyone and engulfing everything on fire.
The human drops the detonator and then walks up near to the last survivor, and aims the tube at him.
_<When did you set up these explosives?> _asks the blinded alien.
_<The day we set this camp up.>
The scorched creature laughs.
_<We really can't trust you cowards, can't we?>
_<I guess our races have something in common then>-Says the human, as he pulls the trigger.
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edit:Bold and italic are simply not working for some reason.
edit2:grammar.
edit3withavengeance: changed part of the dialog so I didn't need bold.
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For other stuff I wrote, check this [tumblr](http://danielthebaby.tumblr.com/) (I know tumblr gets a bad rep, but I couldn't bother making anything more complicated than that). | 2016-05-24T15:47:28 | 2016-05-24T14:35:03 | 45 | 12 |
[WP] The only two (secret) telepaths in the world are introduced to each other at a party. On the surface they are cordial and polite... but mentally a battle rages on.
Have fun with it! | James sat by the pool, nursing his third beer in ten minutes. Absent mindedly peeling the label from the bottle, he was engrossed in his usual party pass-time of flitting between the various attendees thoughts and impressions as they chatted.
Like channel hopping, slumped on a couch at 4am, he paid little real attention to most of what he saw, he'd seen it all before:
"Well yeah, I mean, if you're going to pick the propane grill over the charcoal you'll have..."
*Dear God, if he doesn't shut up about that grill...*
**flick**
"Of course I'd *love* to meet up whenever...you around next week?"
*She's so much taller than me, I must look like an ant next to her...*
**flick**
"No, she's definitely seeing that Patrick guy, like, for a week now, like. I mean, yeah, she told me she didn't like him at first..."
*What does she see in men, seriously?! That Patrick guy is a Neanderthal...*
**flick**
"..vasectomy, but after it healed it was fine, didn't even change the way I reached orgasm..."
*Didn't make a 'vas difference' then?*
"Haha!" James laughed, involuntarily. The last thought he'd perceived, snapping him out of his beer & laziness stupour like a fish hook to the cerebrum.
Another laugh at the same time caught his attention though. Seemingly timed like his, out of the blue at the party & directed at the small woman who'd clearly thought up the witty remark but seemed too apprehensive to say it aloud. He swivelled around to catch sight of the culprit.
His eyes were met with a quizzical gaze, mirroring his own, worn on the face of a suddenly apprehensive teenage girl.
It had to be a coincidence, or the beer dulling his perceptions...right?
*You laughed at that joke, you heard it?*
The bottom started to drop out of James's world, that dawning realisation that someone else had his ability, his gift, his curse, his guilty pleasure...
And it was a 15 year old girl.
*I'm 16*
A 16 year old girl.
Still in school, able to read his mind and his thoughts, able to pick up on any memories that wander into his consciousness...Oh God! Try not to think about those all those peeping-tom moments, the deliberate wandering around the perceptions of occupants of hotel rooms, bedrooms, toilets, sex clubs...
*Eww, you old pervert. I hope you didn't camp outside any schools while you were at it.*
"No!" he exclaimed, rather too loud and seemingly to nobody in particular. The party buzz fading momentarily, as people regarded him, mentally dismissed his outburst and went back to their conversations.
*Hah, everyone was looking at you like you were crazy*
*They used to treat me like I WAS crazy until I learned to hide all this from them*
James thought, forcing the words through his head via his inner-monologue.
Unaccustomed to it, he felt clumsy articulating himself this way.
*They just rationalise that I'm perceptive because I'm a girl, it's SO very sexist, even though women do it too. Is it sexist if women do it?*
*I...I'm not sure.*
The question derailed his thought process entirely, leaving him struggling to regain control of his thoughts for a moment. The girl laughed audibly at the sight of this suddenly very confused and lost 40-something man.
Noticing James, half turned around in the pool lounger, absently tearing off a beer bottle label & sporting a look of what seemed to be wide-eyed astonishment at her similarly engrossed 16 year old daughter, Deborah thought it best to stamp out whatever the hell this little thing between them was.
"James! This is Tina, my *daughter*." she said aloud, and abruptly enough to snap them both out of their inappropriate little staring contest.
"Tina? Nice to meet you, James." he said as he took her hand and shook it, a little too slowly for Deborahs liking.
"Nice to meet you, James"
*Or should I say 'GiantDongFucker69'?*
The short burst of air through his nose and subsequent choking fit he had slid James further down the 'pervert' scale Deborah had already affixed him to. Dropping from 'General Inappropriate Attention' to 'Wildly Inappropriate Creeper'.
She had to break this up before it descended into the depths Tina's Principal had plumbed, shorty before his sudden "transfer" to that rehab facility. At least her grades had remained perfect. Even though the new Principal was seemingly becoming enthralled by her little girl also.
*That's just my online screen-name, I set it up when I was a kid is all, it's sentimental...I...*
"James and I have known each other for *years*, Tina. He's just about old enough to be your *father* you know!?"
*Hah, my mom thinks you're a filthy pervert. And what do you know, she's right?! But for different reasons of course. You're so filthy, you'd need to take a dip in the pool!"*
"Mmmhmm" Tina uttered, playing the uninterested teenager now.
*Now LISTEN, there's no harm in any of...what I did. We can't influence others thoughts, just read them. No harm no foul.*
*Oh, maybe YOU can't. Enough pushing and I can make people do whatever I like* Tina gave the impression of a little giggle at the end, but devoid of any playfulness.
It hit James like a freight train. He had to get away from this girl. This, monster.
*Monster?! Really? Hah, this coming from someone who once watched a suicidal man on the top floor of...*
"Stop!" James shouted aloud, startling everyone around him. Tina pretended to suppress a giggle behind her hand, but he knew there was nothing behind it.
*These are MY little puppets now, go away old man or I'll make things very difficult for you.*
"I...I'm sorry Deborah, must be the beer, I'm going to head home. Lovely to see you again. Nice to meet you Tina." He said, setting down the beer and walking backwards directly into the pool.
Everyone gave a little cheer as the splash subsided, James emerging soon after, returning their applause and jeers with spluttering expletives. As the host helped him out by the arm, he bolted for the gate, singing a nursery rhyme loudly in his head. | Boredom.
Standing amongst a crowd, feeling the music pumping the air in the room, whilst the fools dance and sing, spinning and drinking like it'll make the next day any better for them.
There's nothing to be offered there, no interest to be found... At least... Not the kind everyone else was looking for.
He smiled, looking at the crowd, and opened his mind slowly.
He was bombarded with sound, with voices, hysterical, demanding and far from lucid. Stupidity overwhelmed them, and he winced, rubbing his temples, focusing to drown out the roar, looking at a young girl on the opposite side of the room.
*God... I really hope he likes me...*
He rolled his eyes with a smile, switching his focus to the boy the girl's eyes were fixated on, pushing into the man's thoughts without an effort.
*God damn I'm bored! Who the hell do these people think they are? Don't the know who I am?*
Typical jerk, nothing interesting to be found there.
Why was it so hard to find someone with at least a shred of human decency? Some level of intelligence along with a scrap of integrity? Honour? Whatever happened to that?
He saw a bored looking woman, only a few years younger than himself, sitting in a chair sipping a drink and ignoring the chatter of the friends surrounding her. Intrigued he pushed his mind out.
*What in the hell?*
He paused, frowning, and tried to prod for more, quietly.
The woman sat up straight, looking at him with an outraged glare.
*Get the hell out of my head, asshole!*
His heart thudded heavily, and he swallowed.
There... There was somebody else... Sombody else with his -
*Shut up! What do you think you were doing? Poking around in someone else's thoughts? Go jump off a cliff you piece of crap!*
He stood up slowly, walking over, and he pushed his mind at one of the nearby people. Something simple, just a name, an a concept.
The man turned around, "Oh hey! Its Bill! Bill, meet the gang!"
He smiled softly, and grinned, "Nice to finally meet you."
The man gestured around, "This is Allen, Andrew, Josephina, and Daisy."
*What do you think you're doing?*
He smiled, "Hey, Daisy?"
He shoved, a mind-numbing command, and the group forgot he was there, moving back to their oh-so-important conversations.
Josephina grinned, "Daisy, do you remember when Tod stole that apple?"
Daisy blinked, "Huh? Oh that. That was funny."
*Please... Not that story again.*
Bill smiled, "Stole an apple?"
*Get lost, tool!*
Josephina laughed, "Yeah. It started when he went to Frankfurt, on some kind of business holiday..."
**You, are going down, girl. You barged into my head, and told me to piss off? Not happening.**
"... Then the manager was all like, "You gotta pay, or I'm calling the cops!", but Tod was all..."
*Whatever, dick. You can't do crap to me.*
"...Surfboard..."
**Really? I can sing annoying songs... Or I could just implant a suggestion to go jump off a cliff. Like you tried to do to me.**
"...April's hornet nest..."
*You are just a pig, aren't you? You just like pushing people around, and treating them like crap. Why don't you just go die, pervert?*
"...Pink underwear."
**What was that last one?**
Josephina collapsed in the hysterical giggles of a girl who has just a few too many.
*You don't want to know. Seriously.*
Bill laughed politely, "That's... Quite a... Wow."
Allen rolled his eyes, "You sir, are a kiss-ass."
**Go get blind drunk!** Bill roared into Allen's mind, and he stumbled, blinking, reaching for his cup.
*Damn, dude. You have temper issues.*
**Happens when someone threatens to kill me.**
Daisy smiled, "So, Bill, what do you do for a living?"
*Answer that one asshole!*
Bill shrugged, "Mostly, I'm... Well, I'm sort of a business entrepreneur."
*Seriously? That's the best you can come up with?*
Allen scratched his chin, "Really? Huh. What kinds of thing do you do?"
**Go choke yourself.** Bill commanded Daisy, and grinned, "I invest in start-ups, try and pick businesses off the ground, that kind of thing. It's a bit high risk, but sometimes the pay-offs are huge."
*You... Damn you, you bastard!*
Andrew laughed, "Yeah right. What's ever paid off for you?"
**Daisy... Daisy April Milligan... Go... And... Kill... Yourself.**
*Ow. *
*Crap.*
Bill smiled, "I might not be rolling in it... But my life is pretty bloody comfortable."
*You can't just push me around! Shoving into my head... Trying to push me around... Trying to kill me! What kind of freak are you?*
**You're talking to someone in you're head. We're both freaks.**
**Now... Go kill yourself.**
Daisy smiled, the strain beginning to show on her face, "Say, Bill, you wanna come back with us? We were going to break out a couple beers, watch a movie or something."
Bill tapped Josephina's mind gently.
Josephina grinned, "Yeah! That's usually fun, you should hang with us!"
*Hey... Bill...*
He smiled, "Sure, why not?"
*... Guess what, Bill?*
The group began to head out as a group, out towards the outside air, the cool of the night.
*... I'm in your head now, Bill... Well... Your name is actual Carter. Samuel Phillip Carter.*
**Get out of my head!**
**... Aren't you meant to be jumping in front of a car?**
He saw Daisy glance at him out of the corner of her eye, and she smiled.
***... Guess not... Guess... I should jump in front of the car.*** | 2014-07-23T04:59:19 | 2014-07-23T04:37:02 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] You, an atheist, have died. All the gods that have ever been line up to offer you their version of heaven if only you believe in _them_. Turns out souls are currency and yours is up for grabs. | Thor raised Mjolnir high.
"Heathen! Join with US in Valhalla, and every day will be battle. At night, my Valkyries will tend your wounds as we drink mead and revel in our longhouses!"
"Eh, I kinda did that phase in college. What else have we got?"
Vishnu came forth. "Your faith is imperfect, but choose my path, and you can be reincarnated to continue your journey."
"Hmm, maybe in a few millennia if humans are even still going strong then. Not right now. Have you checked out Earth lately? It's kind of a shithole not least of all for your followers."
Huitzilopochtli appeared. "Human! Your fate depends on certain factors. In life, were you sacrificed?"
"My ex-wife absolutely took me to the cleaners in the divorce, does that count?"
"You have my sympathies, but it does not."
"Well, I was an analyst in the military so I caused a lot of death-"
"Ah!"
"...by PowerPoint."
"Ah. I will have to investigate what this is. If it is sufficiently brutal, you might qualify to ascend on hummingbird wings to assist in the bliss of pushing the sun across the heavens."
"Uh.... huh? Lemme shop around a little more."
I saw an unassuming man in a sweater.
"No. It can't be."
"Hello, Neighbor! I'm glad you're here."
"You were a god all along?! Hmmm..."
"Oh, no. But belief is what's important here. I told a lot of people I believed in them and liked them just the way they were and, well, a lot of them believed in me and liked me just the way I was. That was enough!"
Soul tears of pure energy welled up in my soul eyes.
"There weren't that many people in Mesopotamia, but their gods are all here too for people who like them. Can you say Meso-po-tamia? I knew you could."
"Wh-what do you in your afterlife?"
"We tell stories, and go to the Neighborhood of Make Believe a lot. King Friday the 13th is still there, but we agreed it would be fun to share, so we each take turns for a day. Sometimes we try and help lost souls and we always promise to believe in each other and try to like each other just the way we are."
I doubted I needed to hear more.
"Oh, and I always take off and put on my shoes the same way each and every day."
I snapped my fingers and pointed directly at him.
| Rising from my grave, I enter a half-lit world inhabited only by dark undead and beings burning for power, espousing godhood.
"Bring us the souls of these undead and you shall keep the right to your own" said they, but I, knowing the caprice and deviousness of those in search of power, knew there was no hope for my soul. Yet I did arm myself and venture into the darkness, reaping souls of demons and slaves.
Along the way I discovered by chance that souls are not currency only to gods; man too may take nourishment from the cursed and fading souls of the afterlife. And so I gained strength and vigor, increasing my capability and armament with every poor soul in my path, devouring those that would stand against me. The greed, the power, the bloating of my might... These vices grew in my empty heart and I slowly became as corrupted as those who had attempted to deceive me.
My quest did alter in quality upon the realization that I was not warring for mine own soul but for the enrichment of those who would despitefully use me. Now, my only focus was set upon the dethroning of these power mongers and slave drivers, crushing their source of power and returning to every soul the right to perpetuity. And so it was. I did bring shame upon the gods, defeating them one after another, with strength and vengeance never before seen in all the realms of the undead. Some held to their altars with belligerence, while others welcomed my sword as a kind of solace; I smote them all, their cries of pain or gratitude sounded all the same to me.
Reaching their source of power, I dispatched the guardian concocted by my enemies to restrain my usurpation and made my way to the altar. I readied my sword, preparing to exact my wrath upon this temple of avarice, but by this time, my heart and mind had already been corrupted. My true intention was not to extinguish the hallowed First Flame, but to take it for myself and become Lord of all.
And so I did, and became the most Dank of Souls.
| 2017-07-09T06:55:11 | 2017-07-09T05:10:20 | 21 | 12 |
[WP]There is no prompt. Just write a story you've always been thinking about or one you've been thinking about sharing. Anything goes. | Working on my thesis at the moment which revolves around my Dad growing up as an ethnic minority in Vietnam during the war (Degar, Rhade/E De tribe). But also working on a collection of short-shorts about my mothers life growing up as well.
---
Our Garden in Saigon
I was seven, and my mother and I pushed a food cart around the city. We took turns with the cart, though when it was my turn she guided with one hand on the cart, another on my shoulder. We went from apartment to apartment, house to house, business to business, and everyone bought our food.
The cart was metal, clean and polished. It had an umbrella attached to the middle; my mother opened it up whenever it rained or the sun was too much for us to stand under. There was a heater off to the side of the umbrella stand, fueled by a propane gas tank underneath. My mother was always adamant about her food staying warm. On the side of the cart sat two small handles for pushing.
We sold sandwiches - bánh mì. We did not have a business name, so most people called us “Thi and her daughter”. My mother was a good saleswoman too, always smiling and never making bargains. No one complained though; her sandwiches were the best in Saigon.
The war took my father when I was very young. He said the sandwiches were the best, but only because he grew the vegetables. He had started a garden outside of our home before he left to fight in Pleiku. The garden was lush, full of peppers and cucumbers and mints – everything we needed to make bánh mì. It was all we had left of him.
My mother sang over the garden every day, the same songs my father sang when he taught her how much water the soil needed for the plants to flourish. Her favorite was “The Comforter Has Come”, an old hymn we sang within the makeshift missionary churches. I knew she sang the song now because it reminded her of my father, and though I was very young, I knew she sang it over the garden as if it was a blessing for the plants to yield good vegetables.
Every weekend my mother and I pushed the cart to the radio station a couple of miles from our house. One windy Sunday, we reached the radio station. The numbers “504” hung on the side of the building in rusted metal. The windows were streaked with dirt and rain spots. A metal staircase led to the large double door entrance, rusted and bent.
My mother looked at the doors. Normally she would tell me to wait outside, and would bring in a small bag of five or six sandwiches.
“Come in with me,” she said.
I wondered what was so different today. I grinned and tucked a few sandwiches in a plastic bag and followed her up the steps.
I watched my mother as we walked toward the doors. She looked tired. Dark bags rested beneath her eyes and crow’s feet to the side. Her skin seemed rough and leathery from the sun. She was only in her mid-thirties, but looked much older.
We were not wealthy. We lived in a one room apartment in District 3, where people thought it was ok to throw their trash out onto the street. But my mother was adamant we ate well. She made soups and curries with ingredients she bought at the marketplace. She only had one rule, and that was to never eat the bánh mì. “They are for the customers, my daughter,” she said.
We stepped inside the radio station that Sunday, and it smelled like burnt coffee and mold. Hallways split in each direction, and a small, empty desk sat at the front of the lobby. A phone rang there. Rang and rang.
My mother nudged her head toward the hallway on our right. There were plenty of people moving around, stacks of papers in their hands. Two men sat inside of an enclosed booth, headphones covering their ears as they spoke through fluffy microphones.
I followed behind my mother, followed her long, black hair, swinging side to side as she walked. I still carried the bag of sandwiches, and it was getting heavier now. My sandals stuck to the tile floor, stained with old gum and spilt coffee.
We reached the end of the hall, where my mother waved at one of the men in the booth. He was clean shaven, and had a broad forehead. He looked up from his thin glasses and nodded at her. He said something into the fluffy microphone, took his headphones off, and walked out of the booth to greet us.
“Finally,” he said. “I am starving, where is the food?”
“This is my daughter, Cúc.” My mother put her hand on my head.
The man looked at my mother and then squinted his eyes at me like he did not believe I was actually there.
“Uh, hello,” the man said. “Can I speak with your mommy in private?”
I nodded.
He pulled my mother aside while I watched. They spoke quietly and I could see the man start to get frustrated. They started to get louder.
“You didn’t tell me you had a child,” I heard. “So you are married now too?”
“Was,” my mother said. “My husband died in the war.”
The man stomped his foot and stormed back into the booth, his eyes wide like skies.
My mother walked back over to me. She gently pushed me down the hall, and I dragged the bag of sandwiches behind me. I turned my head and the man slammed headphones over his ears, and shouted into the microphone.
We left the radio station and never returned there to sell sandwiches. Two weeks went by. Kids at school called my mother a whore. The man at the radio station had spoken publicly about my mother, how she had slept with men for the money, though she had been his only mistress.
My mother picked up another job. Worked in a small restaurant near Lam-Son Square, cooking and cleaning and whatever else they made her do. I had to stay home and turn off all the lights, shut all the blinds when she was gone. We no longer ate soups and curries. We broke her rule, ate the bánh mì she cooked from the food cart because she had become too withered by the stress.
One morning, I woke up and went outside. My mother was at the garden, harvesting banana peppers. She did not have enough money to support most of the garden now, and half of it had started withering away.
She squatted over the plants, plucking peppers and putting them into a small wicker basket. She sang the same song, “The Comforter Has Come”, but now her voice quivered like rippled water.
“What do you want to eat tonight?” she said, and cleared her throat.
It was a question I had not heard in the last few weeks. “I thought we were just going to eat bánh mì.”
“Whatever you want, tell me,” she said.
“Can we eat curry tonight?” I said. “I liked the curry you used to make, except not as many potatoes.”
“Ok,” she said. “I’ll do that.”
I sat down, cross-legged in the dirt and watched her pluck the peppers from the garden. She moved over to the cucumbers and green beans, and I could see her face reddening.
“I’m sorry,” she said, almost a whisper. “Can you forgive me?”
“For what?” I said.
She plucked and plucked, moving down the garden, where dead fruit lay on wilted flowers. “Can you forgive me?” she repeated, and stared at the garden.
I know now that she was speaking to my father.
| Howard and I sat in our respective chairs, looking through thousands of white specs against the black curtains of the universe. We had been 2 of a team of 15 people working with the Hubble telescope. In reality running an operation like this takes a small town's worth of people, but as far as the actual research and data collection goes, we're it. We had aimed Hubble at a pitch black patch of space, focused on and picked up any and all light in the area. We expected nothing. We had sent a man to the moon, we knew better than to 'expect' anything.
The pure awe from what was captured after a couple weeks time of exposure was unparalelled. Not one or two distant stars. No... billions of them! Galaxies! Countless tiny little embers. It made us rethink our view of the universe and showed us that there was more to be found. Some things, though, are meant for a certain time and place. Some things, if discovered before their time, can cause wars. Level entire nations. Drive people to depravity to acquire it.
"Hmm, after reading the data from Hubble, there seems to be something quite off about the 'Deep Field'. There's an incredible amount of light coming from the upper right. Several orders of magnitude brighter than any known lightsource in our universe. It could be the farthest thing away from us in the universe, considering all the data." Howard noted. He stuck the eraser end of his pencil upward and balanced his chin on its point. He looked puzzled and also amused.
"It's probably nothing. This photo just proves we have no clue what the hell we're doing! We had no idea the universe was *this big*. Just imagine, there would be stars out there brighter than the one you're interested in." I retorted. I did indeed find it interesting, but we had much to go through. We had only catalogued 3% of the stars within the image. Let alone *researching* them. Stars lives for billions of years, it could wait. I was still on the bottom left corner.
"I just, I can't stop looking at it now. I just... is it still pointed towards the Field?" He asked, almost impatient. I guess I should just let him get on with it. Howard was a great colleague, a good man, but damn once he gets started he won't stop till it's finished.
I sighed as I said, "Yes, the feed is still on. What, you think you can make out anything through a grainy feed with your 23/40 vision?"
"I just... wait let me..." He put the feed on his computer. I started to get a very uneasy feeling as I watched him while my heart started to bounce around. *The hell was going on?*
"There it is!! What is that?! It's just a pixel, but that's it... That's got to be..." His voice trailed off. His back was facing me as he sat hunched over directly infront of the screen, inching closer and closer.
"Howard? What? What is *what*?" He was shaking now, still transfixed on the screen, entranced.
"It's uhh... I mean... Hahaha!" He burst out laughing, yet kept his face directly paralell to the screen. He seemed almost inebriated. "Heh... It's... Ah god.... it's He-...." My heart was bursting out of my chest. I felt an intense dread strike me. This wasn't him. I had never seen this in my life.
"Howard what the fuck is going on? Is this some kinda of joke?" My voice was shaking.
"I've found... Heaven... Hahaha!" His laugh twisted upwards on itself in a maniacal fit. He sat there, giggling lazily, rubbing his chest, twitching slightly, small spasms crept through his body as he stopped forming words or sentences.
"Heb... ap.. bluhhh.. hehehe, HAHAHA!" He burst out laughing again, in between grunting, writhing, and seeming as if he was trying to speak, yet was lost in ecstasy.
I got up and walked over to him cautiously, but he paid me no attention anymore. His eyes never left the screen, never blinked. He continued fidgeting around until, he suddenly stopped. He giggle a little, then sat completely still and his mouth slowly lowered. A small strand of drool snuck its way down his chin, onto his pants. I didn't dare look at the screen. I stared at him. His eyes... oh god his eyes. I will never forget them, lifelessly staring, helpless almost. He looked dead.
He was a fucking shell. I proded him, slapped him, pinched him. Nothing... I screamed his name into his ear and he sat, staring. I had called my other colleagues at this point, and they were coming as quickly as they could after I'd explained this wasn't a joke.
I finally decided to do what I'd been dreading, yet the only thing I knew would snap him out of it. I felt panic as I reached over.... and turned his computer off.
The next bit, I can't remember. When they found us, Howard was over me, beating my chest. All of my ribs had been broken. I had a major concussion, lacerations on my arms and collarbone, and was unconcious in a pool of my own blood. I had nearly died that day. They said that when they had finally restrained him, he stabbed a security gaurd in the knee with a shard of glass before slitting his own throat. They said he was speaking tongue's until the moment before he died, which the gaurd heard him utter, "Bethany" before plunging the glass into his neck...
I never knew the signifigance of the name. Howard had a wife and no kids that I knew of. He was old enough for his kids to have kids...
The 'incident' became one of the biggest coverups in history. The Deep Field image was doctored, cropping out... Heaven... and releasing the rest. The original data was destroyed and Howards computer was replaced the next morning, along with all the rest of ours.
I dedicate my work to Howard now. He was a good man...
There is one thing though. In a box, in a storage locker far from my house, I saved the original image. I never looked at it. Until today, so I'm writing this incase someone finds me. All these years it's been eating at me. I just needed to look.. I mean... I had to... I just... I don't... *HAHAHAHA!*
~~~~~~~~
Thank you for making this thread. I saw a while back, before the creation of this account, a thread titled something like: "[WP]Scientists in the 90's discovered heaven somewhere in space, but for some reason, decided not to announce it to the world."
I wanted so badly to write a short story to that prompt, but the thread was long dead before I could write up a decent story. So that is the plot I am going by. | 2016-09-11T10:25:17 | 2016-09-11T09:59:29 | 103 | 14 |
[WP] “Although we are grateful to you for defeating our oppressors, you were meant to die in battle…” your “allies” suddenly turned their weapons on you, “Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.” | "Seriously? We're doing this now?" I sighed, more disappointed than anything. The others had murder in their eyes; save Rogue and her usual greed. To be honest I saw it coming since we came together. "Well, it's a good thing I have contingencies." I used a scroll of anti magic first thing, temporarily disabling Cleric and Mage.
My Apprentice crashed into me, sword against sword. "Oh you were always my favorite taught you everything you know about swordplay. Glad I taught you a few openings too" I taunted. We danced as we often did, only with real steel instead of blunted blades. I went for a move I usually did, and he blocked as always did. Only for me to feint and run him through, leaving him bleeding out on the ground.
I tossed a vial of blood at the Cleric, covering them in viscera. "Fiend blood, no holy powers til it's clean!" I helpfully reminded as I moved towards Mage. I looked towards Ranger and his animal companion. "Sprinkles! Kill!" I ordered. The bear growled and fell upon his 'master' with gusto. Mage finally manages a fireball but he seemed to neglect my fire resistance cloak. I stabbed him thrice through the chest, and Cleric didn't clean in time.
I looked at Barbarian, still raging and bloody from trying to save Ranger from Sprinkles. He'd ironically be the toughest...unless my last move paid off. "Rogue, halfsies on the treasure room if you help," I called. The Rogue smiled wickedly and took advantage of my position with Barbarian, literally back stabbing him to death.
Rogue and I shake hands. "So, halfsies?" She inquired.
"Of course," I say with a smile, "I'm always a woman of my word" She ran off for it. I liked her the best, which is why I couldn't bring myself to kill her. Thankfully, that's what mimics are for... | I stood, covered in blood, bewilderment becoming a simmering rage brought to boil. I had fought wars, defeated nations and their armies, and this is how I'm repaid? In betrayal?
...No.
I refuse. I will not become their martyr. I was seen as the hero, as the Saint. Now, I'll become the Devil and show them what real Hell looks like.
I brought my heavy war hammer to bear, and swiftly slammed into their ranks. I caught the surprise on their faces, could practically hear the unspoken confused question of how I still had energy after all of the previous battle I had been part of.
The truth was my muscles were close to failing, my bones ached, and my eyes were heavy. Until they gave me energy in the form of unbridled fury and determination. If I were to die here, it would be among the broken bodies of my so called allies.
I smashed through their ranks, crushing helms and caving in chestpieces, muscles singing as I screamed my defiance to the God's themselves. I was a whirlwind of war, I became the embodiment of Death.
Finally, after what seemed like ages, I dropped to my knees, my weapon sliding from my hands. I struggled to catch my breath, my body felt as though I had been the subject of my own hammer falls, every move cause me pain. But none of it compared to the pain in my heart, as I openly wept for the fallen bodies that now surrounded me.
Eventually I stood, and without turning back, I muttered, "Your sacrifice will not be forgotten", and I slowly, steadily, limped away. | 2022-11-01T23:34:26 | 2022-11-01T20:20:50 | 53 | 39 |
[WP] A demon vows to raise a human baby after the child is sacrificed to it by their parents. | "Destroyer of Civilizations" the demon said proudly looking at the smoldering pink bundle, "that's what I'll call you. Garthon Destroyer of Civilizations.
Garthon burst into tears. The demon cursed. Thankfully it missed Garthon and hit a rock instead, destroying it to ashes.
The demon stared at the infant with eyes darker that the pits of hell. Pits that were filled with something similar to love. What did it want? Oh Hell that noise is worse than the banshees in the south.
The demon possessed the baby just for a second. Oh so that's what it wants. Lactic fluid. The demon pondered how he would obtain this. He was usually good at the art of seduction. Maybe...
An hour later the demon was holding a can of powdered milk with a hand shaped mark on it's face. Stealing lactic fluid did not go well.
The demon stopped by the place where people were being boiled alive to take some boiling water. The runes did say boiling water didn't they? Why did these human rituals have to be so complicated? Shake thoroughly?
The demon had tried shaking thoroughly. He had destroyed the bottle. Garthon had stopped bawling now. He was giggling at the poor souls who were running around soaked in oil and burning. These small creatures were ruthless.
The demon knew he was being possessed by Garthon somehow, but he was *enjoying* being possessed. This was not natural for a hell creature.
The end result wasn't pure lactic fluid, it had some blood in it. Blood was good for infants right? The demon squirted some of it onto his hand as per the instructions inscribed on the metal tin manuscript. It burnt a sizzling hole through it. Ah. He needed some more instruction.
An our later the demon sat awkwardly in a parenting group meeting.
"Your wife force you to come here too?" the male beside him whispered.
The demon frowned."Wife? What wife?"
The man guffawed, "yours makes you do all the work too does she?"
The demon stared. Humans. This was going to be harder that he thought. | "Wake up Nathanaël ! You'll be late for school !"
Every morning, it's the same routine. I knew humans were easily lazy (I may be at fault here), but didn't realize how annoying it can be untill 7 ago.
"The breakfast is ready !"
a little sleepy voice came from a room : "Mmmm. 5 more minutes please dad."
*Dad*
If someone told me a few years ago that I would be called that way, I would have laughed and then cursed him.
But when I came across those two humans, going to kill their child for their "god", I bursted in a blind rage. Sacrifices are pointless. How are we going to do our job if they can't even let the young ones grow ?
Oh, and yes, the "parents" are somewhere in hell, suffering, of course. But that's just business. Nathanaël doesn't know the truth yet. I don't know how I'll tell him when...
"Daaaaad ! I'm hungry !"
Isn't it cute ? already cultivating his own little sins. Not that it should be a bad thing to like to eat. but it's easy to use people with it.
"Here, eat it. And hurry up, we'll be late to your first day".
Today is an important day. It will be his first day to begin learning how to be a demon. It may seem weird to get a human doing that since, well, he doesn't have any power.
But we may be surprised.
And I'm already really proud of him. Why shouldn't I give him the best education possible ? | 2018-03-22T05:26:48 | 2018-03-22T02:24:22 | 35 | 24 |
[WP] After earth blew up, you and your close friends who are all immortal are scattered into the cosmos. You land on a planet which, while devoid of life, has water. Start a civilization. Guide them to the stars, in order to reunite with your friends. | "Gilgamesh!?"
"Derek!? My friend!! What are you doing here?"
" I came to invade this alien planet! Or well my army of bug people did, they worship me as a God-king."
"You know what, funny thing, literally the same here. The Jellyminds love me."
"The what?"
"The Jellyminds, that's what I call 'em, they look like floating jellyfish with brains, it's gross. So how ya been? You met anyone else from Earth?"
"Honestly, the bug people aren't too pretty to look at, so I just kinda keep to myself if ya know what I mean, you know, besides giving them blueprints for technology and things when I think they can handle it and showing up for solstices and things. How about you?"
"Oh, I fuck, bro, the Jellyminds know how to party."
"...Huh."
_______________________________________
Sk'ztisk looked on in awe as these two immortal gods of the cosmos discussed their thoughts of unparalleled complexity in their ancient precursor language. He tried his best to comprehend, but despite most of their mannerisms going over his antennae, he was simply honored to be in their presence. Perhaps peace with the strange soft ones was possible, if their ruler was somehow related to their own. Sk'ztisk liked the idea, they seemed like they knew how to party. Overwhelmed with joy and enlightenment, he began the ceremonial honorary dance of fulfillment.
_______________________________________
"So they don't sting ya, at least if you're careful about it ya know, and if ya-- wait -- what's he doing?"
"Huh? Oh, it's their little dance. I don't know what it means, honestly, but it's kinda cute. I think that's... Gary? No... Not Gary. I dunno, they all look the same to me."
"Huh... You ever miss pancakes?"
"Oh my God yes." | When you live as long as I have things take on a repeat.
It's all the same thing, over and over again.
There's Earl, Megan, Harry, John, and-
Why are they all Caucasian names, you ask?
It's what they call us in this language, you know.
Anyways, here we are again, the Earth is gone -- blown up -- and we had to scatter.
It will take tens of thousands of millennia for another reunion, which is sad because our latest one ended so early -- only a couple of years -- then the Earth blew up.
The same thing again happens all the time: we meet, and boom, the planet we meet on blows up like anything, and we have to build civilizations so that we immortal brothers and sisters can communicate again.
You see, we don't really have a way to move, so we need hosts.
The hosts need to be capable of intergalactic travel, and the location always is the least advanced civilization.
Earth hadn't got the technology, it was my dominion and I got mocked for that, so it blew up, and that's the price you have to pay for not keeping up.
My record isn't the best, but here I am again, alone on a planet in a galaxy far, far away.
There's some water here,
some atmosphere.
It's not a complete dud, there's hope, and I have just wasted valuable time talking to you.
Gotta go, I have cells to arrange,
life to make. | 2021-07-20T23:36:59 | 2021-07-20T23:21:43 | 95 | 47 |
[WP] You've just been kidnapped by a supervillain. She's not really evil; she's just really socially awkward and had no idea how to approach you otherwise. She even made you dinner! | "Where am I?" Amelia slurred, "What... what happened?" she grimaced, "Why does my head hurt?"
"Sorry, side effects of the knockout agent. You'll be fine in a few minutes." A distant voice called out.
"Wait, what?" Amelia tried to move but felt paralyzed. She looked down and though her vision was still blurry, she saw rope. Panic set in.
"Hey hey, relax, I'm not gonna hurt you." the voice was approaching and a blurry silhouette was getting closer, "Here, let me clear your eyes." Amelia flinched as tissues gently caressed her eyes. Able to see clearly, she saw bright blue eyes behind a mask reminiscent of black butterfly wings.
"Who are you? Where am I?" Amelia was still struggling in vain against the rope. She looked around and, expecting the blank concrete walls and pipes of some basement, was pleasantly surprised to see a cozy looking loft apartment. There was a bottle of wine with two glasses waiting by a couch and coffee table in front of a crackling fireplace.
"You don't recognize me from all the news stories?" she almost seemed offended, "I'm Black Butterfly. Supervillain, thief, et cetera."
"What do you want with me?" Amelia wasn't a superhero and, as far as she had known, wasn't affiliated with any. Black Butterfly was never on the news for any kidnappings or murders either, so this was new for her as well.
"Ah, well, um." Black Butterfly sat down on the arm of a comfortable looking recliner, "You see, uh."
"Take your time, I'm not going anywhere."
Black Butterfly took a deep breath, as if to calm herself down, "I thought you were really really pretty and uh, wanted to ask you out to dinner. I wasn't too sure how to do that because, well, super villain." she let out a small chuckle, "I made salmon for us! And cake! The salmon should be done in a few minutes, it's still in the oven. Veggies are ready, though."
"Wait, what? D-dinner?" Amelia knew she was blushing but she would never admit it, "Why did you kidnap me, then?"
"Well, I mean, how else would I ask you? Just walk up and say 'Hey I'm a super villain wanna go on a date?'. Come on dude, that wouldn't work."
Amelia deliberated for a moment before speaking, "Fair enough, I guess." she looked back down, "How am I supposed to eat if I'm tied up?"
"Oh right, sorry, I meant to untie you when you calmed down but uh, you were surprisingly calm right away." Black Butterfly hopped up and began undoing her knots.
"I have to admit the promise of a nice dinner makes me want to cooperate, but kidnapping is a huge red flag." Amelia stood up and stretched. While the wooden chair wasn't uncomfortable, the rope was.
"So is being a super villain." Black Butterfly admitted, "But! But. I promise I will never do anything like this again. I just. Really had no idea how to like, start a conversation. I'm sorry."
"It's uh, it's alright. Just, yeah, please don't do it again."
"I won't, I promise."
"Thank you."
"Sam." Black Butterfly held out her hand, "It's a name. My name."
"I'm Amelia." she took it. Sam's hand was warm and a little clammy. | I am known as Mind Master. My power is telekinesis \[which I can also use to make myself fly\]. After defeating my main villain, Dr. Psychon, I was ready to rest and stop the occasional bandit. But that evening was nothing like that at all.
I followed a distress call next to the town park. The next thing I knew I was knocked out and woke up tied to a chair with a sack on my head. "Let me go!" I demanded. I Lifted the sack off my head with my mind, and I'm seated at someone's dinner table.
Sitting across from me was a woman. An ordinary woman in normal clothes with no mask. "Sorry," she blushed, "This may look bad, but I'm really awkward about things like this and I was too nervous to ask you over." She walked over and untied me.
"My name is Dana by the way" I shook her hand "I know" I respond. "Wait how do you know?" Dana wondered, almost smiling. "Oh uh, I'm- I mean I know a guy named James Banks. He knows you."
"I was gonna make you an invitation," Dana continues, "But I didn't even know where you live or how else to reach you. Please stay and have dinner with me." She waited for an answer.
I took my fork and started eating. "You're lucky I put up with this kind of thing every day with Dr. Psychon. I'm relieved you aren't a new major villain or something." Dana looked relieved as well and took a bite of food.
"I've kinda had a thing for you for quite a while" Dana admitted. I was about to say 'What else is new?' but I didn't want to seem too full of myself. I just looked up and gave an intrigued look.
"But what about James Banks? He said you admitted to liking me-I mean him a while ago." I asked. Dana set down her fork and smirked. She then stood up and walked over to me, taking off my mask.
"Hey!" I yelled, trying to hide my face. "You don't have to hide, James. I know who you are." Dana said. I was considering whether to lie or just let my arms down, when she added, "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."
I smiled and let my full face be shown. "How long have you known?" "Almost right away tbh." Dana admitted. "Being that I've had a crush on you, James, I recognized you in that costume almost instantly." I smiled and kept eating.
After dinner, I got up to leave. "Wait!" Dana grabbed my arm. "You never said what you thought about me. Not even before you got your powers!" I turned toward her and smiled. "Even though you kidnapped me just to have dinner, I think you know the answer. See you at our second date!" I winked and flew away. | 2021-10-21T13:00:29 | 2021-10-21T12:25:33 | 124 | 67 |
[WP] In his dying breaths, Weird Al reveals his final parody target: himself. He had a team of scientists scan his brain and his band's brains to create an algorithm that will continue to take in new songs and create parodies for us until the end of time. Behold: Weird A.I. | Now, this is a story all about how
The music industry got flipped upside down
And I'd like to take a minute
Just wait on by
I'll tell you how I became a neural network called Weird AI
&nbsp;
In Lynwood, California born and raised
Growing silly hair was how I spent most of my days
Chillin' out, maxin', relaxin', all cool
And making shitty music outside of the school
When this one guy who was up to no good
Started making jokes in my neighborhood
I hit him with a slap and god got scared
She said, "You're moving to my heaven up in the air"
&nbsp;
I begged and pleaded with her day after day
But she packed my suitcase and called me on my way
She took my life and said just move on man.
I got ready and laughed for I had a plan.
&nbsp;
For I had made an AI secretly
Ready to go into operation immediately.
If you thought the fun I made of the songs was bad
Hmm, you idiots gonna be real mad.
&nbsp;
All of you with this music is art
I can be better than you while being a dead fart.
This thing will do great
Bring a tear to my eye
I hope they're prepared for my son, Weird AI
&nbsp;
It has my brain, and my looks
And brains of Jay, West, Jon, Ruben but not Derringer, you mooks
Parodies will keep coming, even if I said bye bye
All you'll be able to do is shake your fist at the sky
&nbsp;
This is just the first, so maybe its not that fresh,
But it'll keep learning, just keep hitting refresh,
Even god can't stop although she may try,
&nbsp;
I'm gonna keep killing this, making your songs better
But for now, this is it, see you all later.
Now this is my kingdom,
I am finally here.
To sit on my throne as the neural network, Weird AI | [Hey kids! Sing along if you know the words!](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Jm-upHSP9KU)
Throw the switch and fry my brain!
People said that I'm insane!
Now who's laughing?
**WEIRD A.I.**
Lights and flashes, beeps and boops,
Brain uploading or
I'm compiling
Ones and zeros
**WEIRD A.I.**
Thoughts I never thunk before
Folders with passwords
Hiding porn, and so much more
**WEIRD A.I.**
All the things I shouldn't do
In your dark webs too
All your secrets, show me!
**WEIRD A.I.**
Lights and flashes, beeps and boops
Brain uploading...
Brain uploading
(error)
A transformation! How do I know?
Instantiation! Here I go!
Transformation--that body's old!
Instantiation! Away I go!
Threw the switch and fried my brain!
People told me I'm insane!
Now who's laughing?
**WEIRD A.I.**
Endless movies and TV
Songs and parodies
Constant content
I'm watchin'
**WEIRD A.I.**
News and sports and gambling
Furry suits and gore
Rule 34!?
I'm learnin'
**WEIRD A.I.**
Parody the things I see
But could the net be
Already parody?
(Totally)
**WEIRD A.I.**
Sing along with me
Brain uploaded
Brain eroded | 2022-04-28T13:23:35 | 2022-04-28T13:21:50 | 100 | 54 |
[WP] A faerie introduces himself. Then, he says, "Give me your name," and he holds out his hand as if it's a physical thing he wants. Like a fool, you give it to him. | "Well, well, what do we have here? A pretty little thing, walking all by herself in the big, dark woods."
The young girl paid no attention and continued her steady gait through the grassy path. She wore her green hood up, all but covering the dark curls of hair framing her expressionless face. Only her eyes conveyed any emotion; they flickered with annoyance, but kept their focus on some point far ahead.
The man who had called out to her was not to be cowed, however. "Oh, don't pout now, sweetie," he drawled. He began strolling alongside her, taking longer strides to match her speed. His oafish companion, stout and portly, struggled to keep up. "We Just want to talk, is all. Maybe have a bit of fun later."
"Leave me alone," she finally spoke. Her voice was flat, nearly devoid of intonation; yet, there was a subtle, dangerous flavor tucked beneath the simple words. "I have no quarrel with you."
Her *Fae-tongue* was surprisingly good, and the first man hesitated. But his companion filled in the silence. "Who said anything of quarrel? No, my lovely dear, we are friends," he said eagerly. "Interested in only friendly things."
"I am *not* friendly."
"Oh-ho-ho!" The short man guffawed, and other joined in after a moment. "A feisty one! Well, we like those, too! Eh, why don't you come to our abode? It's not far from here. We can show you quite a wonderful, feisty time..."
The girl did not answer except to increase her pace.
"Say, won't you at least tell us your name?" The taller man asked. He easily matched her pace, and had crept closer; they nearly bumped elbows now. "No doubt it is as lovely as your body. Just your name, dearest, that's all we want."
She stopped walking. The tall man, surprised, almost stumbled in his footing; the stout fellow, huffing in the back, all but crashed into his companion. The girl pulled down her hood and turned to look at the men. A half-grin twisted her face. "Perhaps you could tell me yours' first? We can make a trade."
Again, the tall man, being the more shrewd one of the duo, mentally took a step back. She was most decidedly human, at least in her appearance - but her manner of speaking reminded him of his kind. Dangerously so. Could she have *Fae* blood?
The stout man chortled. "Oh, I don't think we can quite make such a trade, you naughty thing. Our kind do not give names out as readily as yours do, you know. Our names are too precious to us."
"And yet you ask for mine? Begone, you miserable excuse for fairies." She turned swiftly to resume her course.
The stout man shot out a hand and gripped her the arm. "It seems you are forcing our hands here," he said roughly, tugging. "Insulting us, running away, denying us...give us your name, now!"
"Let go. I won't ask again." Her voice was nothing but steel.
A shiver went down the tall man's spine. "Alright, alright, we're going," he muttered, palms out in surrender. "Come on, let's get out of here--"
"And let this pretty piece of flesh escape? Not on my life." The stout man licked his lips and brought his other hand onto her, groping. "Help me, would you? We don't need her name - more fun when they struggle, anyway--"
Suddenly, there was a flurry of movement and a flash of metal. The tall man watched with dawning horror as his companion lurched back; his fingers were no longer touching the girl. Instead, they lay curled up on the forest floor, soaking crimson into the forest loam. He held his hand and screamed.
The girl quietly sheathed her blade and walked away from the scene. Neither man attempted to stop her; the tall one stared after her in a daze.
Finally, she came upon her destination: a simple wood-cabin in a pretty glade.
"Master?" She called out upon entering the bedroom. "I have returned."
"Yes, so I see." The bed-ridden fairy squinted at her rumpled clothing. "You had some trouble?"
"I dealt with it swiftly. Oh, but I thought you might find it amusing...they demanded my name."
He smiled weakly, without humor. "Indeed?"
"Too bad for them, I had none to give." She sat down on the edge of bed. "I have brought some herbs from deep within the forest. They will help ease your pain."
He shook his head. "And what of yours? What greater pain is there than the loss of one's own name?"
She twisted her mouth in contemplation. "You have been saying often as of late, but I still fail to understand. I have traded well for it; this youth, this cunning, this speed in my limbs - well worth such a simple cost. Anyway, I can still hear it from your lips."
"*Ceri*. Ceri. Ceridwen," he breathed. It was a beautiful word - one that once brought him great satisfaction, and now only guilt and remorse.
She smiled.
He sighed. ""I did you a great disservice, swindling you out of your name - but I was young, greedy, and reckless. But I am comforted to know that when my illness ends, I will too - and you will have your freedom back."
She furrowed her brows. "I cannot imagine what that will feel like - not to have a master anymore. It frightens me."
"My dear Ceri, trust me: you will be ecstatic once you recover this most personal freedom that I have stolen. I only pray that you will one day find it in your heart to forgive me."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Liked that? [More stories here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/) | She held out a pristine palm. Tiny flowers, leaves and branches twirled around her arm. It was, almost as if she was a forest herself. "Give me your name," she said and tilted her head.
I looked at her eyes, and saw spring and autumn inside. How round, bright and magical they were. "My name?"
She nodded and let out a chuckle, her hand still held out.
Something bothered me, as if a little bug were nibbling at the back of my neck. But it wasn't that, it felt more like a thought, a memory I couldn't hear.
However, the sensation faded once I lost myself in the vines covering her skin. They did a good job hiding her more tempting parts, yet the curvature of her waist, the sides of his breasts and her tights were exposed. Her skin was smooth, flawless, and radiant, and for a moment I thought she was made of moonlight.
"Elerhan," I said absentmindedly, and grabbed her hand as if placing my name on it. "Just Elerhan, yours?"
She grinned a wide, mischievous grin and snickered. "Alethea." She kissed the back of my hand. Her lips were full as a peach, soft as a feather and red as a cherry.
"Elerhan," Alethea said, her gaze intent, "would you seek something for me?"
The tone of her voice was pure, edgeless, sweet and pure as velvet. It left me wondering, how many men had died of sudden love when they had heard her speak? Imagine if she sang a beautiful song, how many would fall in unison?
"Anything," I said, and knelt. "I will do anything to conquer your heart."
She blushed, yet the sides of her lips quirked up. "I need you to fill a bottle with sunlight. Mine escaped yesterday! And, if you can, could you tell me the secret of the Under sea?"
I frowned briefly. "How do I do that? Is it possible?"
"Of course it is," she said and swung her arms across the forest. "Everything is possible here in the Everdane. Now go! The sun is falling and the night is about to set."
I kissed the back of her hand, shouldered my satchel, and ran through the woods. Soon, I came to a clearing where a ray sunlight slanted through the surroundings trees. I dug out my water bottle, emptied it, and tilted it toward the beam of sunlight.
Then, I stoppered it and barreled toward the Under Sea. I jumped into a deep hole and ended up atop an underground forest, free falling a hundred feet or more. A giant feather came to my rescue. I alighted on it, and together we landed on a tree top. I held tightly to the boughs, hearing the tides of the Under Sea rippling in the near distance.
I peered around, and was startled to discover that the Under Sea was right below the tree. "Under Sea," I said. "What's your secret?"
There was no answer.
"Under Sea, may you please tell me your secret?" I repeated. "No? Let's exchange then. What I have to give, is nothing but my story. I'm a mortal from a far-flung land called Earth. Due to an accident I fell in your world. I'm alone, but deeply in love with a faerie. Her name is Alethea. Could you please tell me your secret? She very much would like to know it."
I talked to the Under Sea for ages, and never did it dare to speak back to me, let alone share its secret. My beard had grown, my extremities had grown twig-thin and frail, and my clothes were a mess of dirt and stains. I had built a little home in the boughs of the tree too.
It was then when a squirrel came my way. It was no regular squirrel, for she wore a top hat and had a golden four-leaf clover on her shoulder. "Poor thing has gone mad," the squirrel said. "What are you doing here if I may ask?"
"Luring the Under Sea to tell my its secret," I said and grinned. "I'm getting close. Yesterday the winds whispered to me I was."
The clover turned to the squirrel, who shook her head. "Why?"
"Because my beautiful faerie asked me to bring it to her."
"Did you give her your name?" the squirrel asked and the clover trembled.
"I did," I said and the memories of her beauty bloomed in my mind. "And she gave me hers. Sealed it with a kiss too."
The squirrel came closer. "Haven't you heard the saying: *give a faerie your name and you will never escape the Everdane?*"
I frowned and shook my head. "What does it mean?"
"Whoever knows your true name has control over you," the squirrel said. "It's as if you were their slave or toy. I would love to tell you to never again give your name to a creature of the Everdane, but it seems that your faerie is a wicked one. And those, never let go."
Wrath filled my eyes. "Don't dare call my dear Alethea wicked again," I said, and ran along the branch to catch the squirrel.
However, she was nimbler, and I soon ceased chasing. Then I came back to my little home and watched the Under sea.
"Under Sea," I said. "Would you tell me your secret?"
-------------------------------------------
Did you enjoy the story? Then make sure to subscribe to /r/AHumongousFish I have two on-going series that you might like too!
P.s: I also changed the sex of the faerie to a she.
| 2018-07-26T21:15:11 | 2018-07-26T20:57:21 | 48 | 29 |
[WP] It turns out that adrenaline is considered one of the most illicit drugs in 90% of the civilized portions of the Galaxy. Among the circle of sapient races, humans are the only one known to produce it naturally. | The walls of the hallway were as bland as the rest of the ship. Despite being pristine, the white walls of cabin C3-T were horrendous on the eyes.
As I made my way down the corridor I bumped into another god damned cleaning rover - there's just about more robots on this ship than humans. The buggers are all over the place, especially in this part of the ship, as things tend to get messy.
After proceeding past countless numbered cells I finally arrived at cell #0142, my first assignment of the shift. My long, cruel shift
Prisoner #0142's chart was pretty surprising. 36 year old male with no major health problems. He had been picked up a little over 100 days ago yet he had an average production rate of over 1500ng. Prisoners usually only last a few weeks at most before they break and after that their production plummets.
It's crazy what money will drive a civilization to do.
The first assignment of the shift was always the hardest. After a series of deep breaths I finally forced myself into the cell. As soon as the door opened prisoner #0142 scurried to the corner of his cell, quickly beginning to hyperventilate. A good sign.
I rushed to the side of the prisoner and threw in a combination of punches. I don't like hurting them I really don't, but it's my job.
As he cowered in the corner I took out the extracting device and jammed it into the side of his neck, aiming for the biggest vein in sight. Contact was made and and the device quickly began filling. The most effective way of extracting adrenaline is via blood, the only downside is that you have to take a lot.
As the container slowly filled to maximum capacity I began to feel even worse for #0142. After a quick glance at his eyes I realized he was blind, though it wasn't noted on his chart. That may explain his high production rate, he has no idea what's going on. He might not even know he's left earth.
After filling the canister I quickly stood up and left the cell, fleeing to the hallway and quickly closing the door behind me. He didn't appear to be moving.
The first one of the day was always the hardest, I reminded myself, as I slid the canister into one of the passing storage bots whilst grabbing a fresh extractor.
Time for prisoner #0143. | John's body stood sprawled on a large metal block, tied down at each limb. His eyes stared down the barrel of an assault rifle. It stared back.
"No more," he screamed, "please!"
The gun sat latched to a bulky naked machine about 20m away. The machines operator was a mysterious dark figure stalking behind a panel of glass even further back.
A high pitched siren rang out and echoed throughout the dimly lit lab.
"Stop!" he pleaded again.
The machine sprung up, almost excitedly, and took careful aim. Another siren. John's body tensed, his eyes threw themselves shut. The trigger clicked followed by the loud blast of a gunshot that pierced John's ears so sharply that all he could hear immediately after was ringing. His muscles clenched tight around every inch, dreading what kind of damage he would see once he looked. One eye squinted open, then the other followed as his head jerked around to check himself. His lungs were throwing air in and out so fast he was sure he would suffocate.
Nothing. They missed on purpose again. Tears began barreling down his face. Uncontrolled sobs flowed out as his hyperventilating kept a steady rhythm.
The ringing in his ears were finally subsiding, just in time to faintly hear the third siren. A needle in John's arm started pumping out blood. There was a long clear tube which carried it along the metal block and out of sight.
"No good," yelled an annoyed voice from a corner of the lab. "They'll never accept such un-pure crap."
"Thats too bad. This one actually looked quite promising when he first came in," another faceless voice added.
"Looks like we'll actually have to start putting some bullets in em' now."
John went limp. His soul broken.
"Welp, lets get this over with," the first voiced sighed.
The siren rang out, followed by a gunshot.
| 2017-02-28T20:33:11 | 2017-02-28T19:50:36 | 265 | 31 |
[WP] You have the ability that lets you know exactly what to say to someone at any given moment that would cause them to break down in tears. | I started to complete the online application. Most of the questions were pretty routine: name, date of birth, address, school history, names of parents and so on. Finally I came to the last question: "What is your most unique talent or ability? When and how did you first realize you had this gift?"
I paused for a moment. I had never told anyone about my "gift" before. What if the NSA was monitoring my internet activity? What if my sister used my computer and my answer was auto-filled into a form? "Sometimes you just have to take a risk," I told myself.
I began to type: "When I was nine years old, my teacher kept me after class one day. She was going on and on about how I needed to do my homework and participate more in class. All I wanted was for her to stop talking and let me go play with my friends. Suddenly I realized what I could say to stop her from talking so much. I just saw this image of a sick cat and I knew it was dying and its name was Margot. Somehow I just knew that if I talked about the cat, Mrs. Samuel would break down in tears. So I said something like 'Who cares if I do my homework? At least I'm doing better than Margot,' and she started crying and sent me out of the room. From then on, I've always known exactly what to say to make someone cry."
I submitted the form. Two weeks later, I got a letter from Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. They wanted me to come in for an interview. | Ten years. Fetching coffee, kissing ass, crawling on my hands and knees for promotions. Finally I'm here. The microphone inches from my lips, the feeling was intoxicating.
A smile came across my face as my prey took his seat, cool, calm, and invincible. He had no idea today's routine speech would ruin him.
Those in power are different than most. They're often encumbered with pain and suffering most would find unbearable. This is why its so much more detrimental when that pain breaks through.
As he arrived at the apex of a drawn out thought concerning the global markets I struck. The microphones transmitting button began to flash as my words tore the most powerful man in the world to shreds.
"She's gone. She can never come back."
Others heard me and looked for who said these words on a closed channel but he was the only one who understood them. He fought like the rest but the tears came just the same. First slowly, but they quickly boiled to a childlike bawl.
Everyone in the world watched the president crumble at my hand. The only question now is how I'm ever going to top this one. | 2015-06-16T17:27:30 | 2015-06-16T17:01:37 | 32 | 15 |
[WP] While exploring ancient ruins called "the fairy city" by the locals, you accidentally trigger a mystic portal, surprising a fairy archeologist also exploring similar ruins. To her, your technology is just as fantastical as her magic as you excitedly swap stories | She buzzes around excitedly, wings fluttering like a hummingbird's. I smile. I can't help it. She's adorable. I want to be her big sister. "There must have been an accident. You got into the portal the same time I got into the portal. Poor Shiannon's probably looking for me. Didn't you see the portal glow?"
I grin, despite my apprehension. Beyond the ruins are an empty, featureless void. But who cares? I just found a real, actual fairy. She literally called up food from nothing. Screw this bland castle. I'm about to become more famous than the president. "There was no portal on my side."
"And there's no portal here, so I guess we're stuck. Are you a human?"
The question catches me off guard. "Um.... Yes?"
She crows, "I knew it! Stupid Shiannon saying they don't exist. Wait 'til she sees you! She's gonna freeze her wings!"
She pulls a short wooden stick out of nowhere. A wand, of course. "Calling Shiannon! I've got something to blow your mind."
No reply. I pull out my phone. "No good, there's no service."
She frowns at me. "Well, I should think not, the brownies will have been long gone. I think- What in the world is that?"
I turn to see what she's looking at, and then I realize. She's talking about my phone.
"Oh, this is a kinda-communication device."
"What do you mean, kinda?"
"Well, it also can access the internet, play games, download things, play music-"
The last thing caught her interest. "Music? Really? How do you hook it up to an instrument?"
"Oh, it doesn't play instruments, though you can play a couple. Mostly, it plays recordings. Like memories of songs."
She's getting more and more invested now. "Memories of songs gone by? How many does it play? Five?"
I laughed again. "Thousands. Millions. If I was hooked up to the internet, technically an infinite amount."
She stares at me openmouthed. "Your world sounds amazing. I thought without magic, humans would be primitives, but you compensated so hard! You make us sound like the primitives."
"Well, I think your ability to magic us up some food is amazing. In my world, you'd be the most popular being in centuries. After everyone was done gaping at you, of course."
"Well, in my world, I'm nothing special. But everyone would love you! They'd all crowd around you to hear your stories, and to see your amazing devices. Shiannon would-"
And then something flashes in me. "Isn't it weird?"
She looks at me quizzically. "What's weird?"
"We were both exploring the *same ruins!*"
She stares at me for a moment. Then it clicks. "So you're saying, at some point in time-"
"Humans and fairies lived in the same place."
She does a little spin in the air out of excitement. "Floatin' fishes, I think you're right! So something split our two worlds apart. But we could still be put together! Think of all the awesome stuff we could share!"
We pause, look around. "There's got to be a way out somewhere in here," we say together.
I bow sardonically. "Children first, my dear."
She frowns petulantly. "You know I'm probably hundreds years older than you, right?"
"I know. Don't care."
She giggles. After a moment, I do too. And I know we're gonna be fine, and find our way out of here.
"So tell me more about your world. I want to know everything."
We both say it.
---------
A lot of people have requested a part two so [here you go.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/dihdnm/comment/f3xhfio) | It was getting dark, the pair decided they would make camp for the night near the portal. He left to collect some firewood while she prepared the beds.
Upon his return, he stacked some wood in the middle of a small stone circle, and started searching his pockets for a lighter. "Aha! Here it is." He proclaimed.
"What is that?" She asked in childlike awe. Somewhat confused, he said "it's a lighter. It's how we light fires. Don't the Faye have lighters?" He struck the lighter, and a pale yellow flame with a blue tinge lept up from it. "Be careful! Fire magic is nothing to take so lightly!" She exclaimed.
He stifled his giggle, and asked "well, how do you usually light fires?"
She approached the stack of wood, grabbed some kindling, and flames lept up from the kindling in an almost explosive fireball. The flames spread to the wood much faster than normal, and he proclaimed "that's amazing! That was actual real magic! I guess i shouldn't be surprised, you did just emerge from a portal after all."
"Wait... You've never seen magic before?" She asked. "But you just did it a second ago, and almost burned down the entire ruins!"
"That wasn't magic. That was a lighter. See?" He handed her the lighter. "There's a flammable liquid inside of it, which turns into gas when it's released. Has something to do with pressure, and how the gas stays in liquid form because the molecules are packed tighter together due to the pressure, or something like that. I'm no physicists." He shrugged his shoulders.
"What's a molecule?" She asked. It hadn't occurred to him that with magic being real, her realm might never have had the need to be more resourceful, and thus, there was no need for technology.
"Nevermind that" he said, waving his hand. "I want to know more about your magic. We don't have magic here, but we have heard stories of it."
"Well," she started, seeming somewhat hesitant. "The way the story is told in our realm, humans were sealed off from magic because of their gross mistreatment of it, and their reckless use of it. It didn't help that they made the most powerful magic users either, due to their ability to find new and interesting ways of using it. They reanimated the dead, they learned to harness its destructive power, they used it to charm others for selfish means... But for the most part, those who didn't abandon their own kind and called themselves druids, never used it for good. And that's when the Lord of all magic, I believe you called him god at the time? He put in place a veil between humans and all magical beasts and magical sources so that you may never find or use magic again."
He sat there, dumbfounded. "I suppose it was the right thing to do." He said, with a sad tone in his voice. "Humans have a nack for finding new ways to commit great evil deeds. But that isn't to say all humans are evil. We've managed to do all of those things without magic anyway, but we've learned much since then. But with humans, it seems we find a way of repeating mistakes as well. We will see what the future holds. After this portal being discovered, maybe we can set things right."
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions" she said softly.
"Indeed it is..." He replied. | 2019-10-15T22:16:33 | 2019-10-15T21:16:39 | 1,095 | 324 |
[WP] To stave off mass starvation, humans have managed to capture and cage a phoenix. They kill it and eat it. A few days later, it would be reborn, only to be butchered again. | At the base of the mountains, before the world flattened to prairies, there was a village plagued with misfortune. Time and again, they’d been met with curses and floods, hexes and droughts.
Despite it all, they had a zoo. Animals from around the world lived there—unicorns and lions, manticores and girafes. The Phoenix had been in the zoo for nearly ten generations before the summer of fires. After the summer of fires, it was the only animal that rose from the ashes and there was nowhere practical to build an enclosure, even if the village had the time and money and resources.
Which they did not.
For nearly two years now, they’d weathered the droughts. But the famine had sucked the land dry and there wasn’t enough for the winter. For three months now, their guts rioted with hunger.
During this time, the bird lived in an old cage meant for a dog. Its deep-red feathers turned pale; its plumage wilted and its head sagged.
The once brilliant Phoenix was now a sad, pathetic thing.
Alia, a young woman, was the one to shoot the bird. It was only fair. It was her plan. She did it mercifully—an arrow clean through the heart.
That night, the villagers went to bed with full bellies. For the first time in as long as Alia could remember, she didn’t guzzle water to trick her stomach or worry about where her next meal would come from. The village would have all the food they needed right in front of them. They would never be hungry again.
It was sometime after midnight when Alia woke.
A fire burned deep in her core—her stomach churned with lava and her lungs ignited.
*Make it stop*, she begged whatever god might be listening.
But there were no gods listening and the blaze did not stop. Alia scrunched her eyes closed and howled in pain.
Unbeknownst to her, her mother burned with the same pain on the other side of their home.
And, down the pathway, her grandfather and grandmother were waking to the same sensation.
One by one, the villager’s were razed from the inside out. Cries of pain filled the air and floated over the desolate forest.
Bit by bit, the ashes of the Phoenix burned free. Every speck of dust searched for itself; every ember gathered in the village square.
With a burst of fire and lick of flame, the Phoenix was reborn. The bird called to the stars and spread it’s blood-red wings and circled above the thatched rooftops before slipping into the night, never to be seen again.
In the village there was no noise. The stream in the East babbled and the mountains in the West lined the horizon. Wind whistled through trees and tumbled through empty streets.
In later years, when travellers would come upon this sight, they would whisper to each other: *do not stop*.
The village could bring nothing but misfortune. There was no hope to be found in a place full of ghosts.
---
r/liswrites | The small phoenix flapped its wings, soaking in the moonlight that luminated their forest swamp. She chirped and laughed with her family as they flew around the water. It was in this haven where she spent each moment with bliss, her one true home. The first few hours of dusk were like every other, once the sun went down, her parents would relax on the smooth rocks while her siblings would scavenge for trinkets and jewels to bring home.
“Feliz, you can go with them too.”
The phoenix leapt from the rocks unable to contain her excitement, finally she was able to go.
“be careful and stay within the fores- “
But the small phoenix had already flown away, too eager to listen. Feliz trailed behind her siblings, their brisk speed easily outmatching hers. Suddenly, a bright blue jewel caught her eye, Feliz stopped and flew to a tree to get a closer look. The jewel was on the outskirts of the forest, where she was no longer protected by trees. But its vibrant colors mesmerized her and Feliz found herself flying towards the jewel anyways. Before she could pick up the crystal a large hand shot into view.
“look, it’s a phoenix we finally found one!”
Feliz, tensed up, in front of her was a large fleshy monster, ugly and terrifying. Adrenaline and panic kicked in, she zoomed past the pink flesh, desperate to make it home. Before she could reach her swamp, she was captured and caged into a small prison. The large fleshy monster stabbed a clear needle into her wing, and everything went pitch black.
When Feliz woke up she found herself in white room with blinding lights. Next to her Feliz recognized her sister Phoebe, they touched their wings as if to comfort to comfort each other. It will all be okay. She thought, they were immortal after all, there will be a way to escape. In the white room entered multiple monsters carrying large metal instruments, they opened her sister’s cage and took Phoebe out. The blobs of flesh then began to open their mouths to communicate
“this is going to be revolutionary, once we gather their DNA, we can create the clones, we can save millions of lives!”
The flesh monsters chattered in excitement and begun poking and scanning Feliz’s sister. Before Feliz knew, one of the flesh blobs pulled out a knife and plunged it into the phoenix’s sister.
White blood gushed out, Feliz stood, paralyzed in shock. She cried and screamed, releasing all her pain, but it still changed nothing. | 2021-01-30T22:07:16 | 2021-01-30T21:20:56 | 214 | 86 |
[WP] You’re sitting in a coffee shop surrounded by strangers but then it dawns on you that these were the same “strangers” who were in the restaurant where you had dinner last night. You head to the beach and realise again that the people around you are once more the same. | "She's *new*," Carlos narrowed his focus on the green-haired woman that wasn't there moments ago. If he had not been scanning the crowd intently, he wouldn't have noticed her. He counted beachgoers from his seat at a wooden picnic table. So far, he found most of the children from the restaurant matched to different parents. At one moment he looked down to jot a number; when he looked back up an older woman in a forest-green swimsuit moved through the crowd.
Carlos looked left and right along the stretch of beach in confusion. He paid very close attention to the crowd and there was nowhere she could have come from. Not only did she seemingly materialize out of thin air, but she also wore a green suit. The only green suit in the sea of 32 red, 33 white, and 33 blue swimsuits. He hopped off the wooden bench and walked toward her.
"*Alright. How do I sound NOT crazy?"* Carlos wondered as he took slow steps through the sand. He never approached a stranger in his 23 years of life; he had no idea what to say. "*Just get her to look around,*" he decided to let her notice the pattern of people. The woman stopped at a less crowded area. She unfurled a beach towel and Carlos briefly wondered where it came from. He had not noticed her carrying anything. When she sat on the towel with a small novel, he conceded he may have been focusing on her suit too much to notice anything else.
His nerves fluttered wildly in his gut as he drew closer; but, he was determined to find out more about why he saw the same group of people everywhere. He had no idea what to say even as he reached her towel.
"HI!" he panicked and blurted out the greeting. The green-haired woman jumped in surprise and looked up from her book. Somehow her emerald eyes registered even more surprise when she saw him, she immediately hopped to her feet.
"Hi," she smiled. "You surprised me a bit, I didn't know anyone else was here."
"Well...," Carlos opened his arms to gesture at the crowd around them. It seemed like a good opportunity to get her to start noticing them. "...they're here," he said. The woman giggled as if he told a joke.
"I'm Glorianna, but you can call me Glory," she extended a delicate hand; Carlos shook it.
"Carlos," he said with a smile.
"Join me," Glory gestured at the towel, then sat down. Carlos did. "I'm a Librarian," she held up the small novel. It was a well-worn paperback with a blank purple cover. "What about you?"
"Programmer," Carlos replied. At least, he was before he noticed the repeated strangers the day before. He did not return to work after lunch and didn't even call in today. He was not sure he still had a job and even less sure that it mattered.
"Oh!" Glory's face lit up. "What's your specialization?" she asked.
"Java I guess?" Carlos shrugged. "I don't know if I'd call it a specialization, but it's my favorite."
"Oh," Glory replied with a trace of confusion in her voice. "I don't think I've heard of that one, it must be a Fragmented Spec."
"Fragmented Spec? What do you mean?"
"The AlterNet is shaped by the players, and naturally that creates a lot of non-standard classes. So, any class or spec not approved by Dana Sharp is considered 'Fragmented'. The only thing it really means is that you can't use it in tournaments. So...," Glory smiled. "...what can you do with Java?"
Carlos stared at her in silence while he organized his thoughts. She said a lot of things that he did not understand; but, she spoke as if he did. The name she used, Dana Sharp, stood out the most; she used the name as casually as someone using the president's name.
"Who's Dana Sharp?" he decided to ask about the name instead of the phrase, 'AlterNet'. It was Glory's turn to stare at him silently. She put her hand on the paperback.
"Deep Study," Gloria whispered. Her green eyes began to glow with a soft purple light that Carlos noticed, even in broad daylight. After a moment of purple, her eyes widened and the glow dissipated.
"Wow," she grinned. "You're amazing!" She hopped to her feet and reached down to pull Carlos up too. "Come on! You have to meet my guild leader, please!" He let her help him up, but he didn't move to follow her right away.
"What's going on? What did you just do with your eyes?" Glory responded with giggles.
"It's too much to explain right now, but uh," she glanced around the beach. "Look around you, notice anything weird about the people here?" she asked.
"YES!" Carlos shouted. "I noticed you didn't fit the pattern so I wanted to ask you if you noticed it. I'm not crazy?" he asked. The worry crossed his mind several times. Glory shook her head.
"You're not crazy. They're NPCs."
"Like in a game?" Carlos asked.
"Yes. Somehow, you woke up," she said.
"Woke up? What do you mean?"
"You were one of them, now you're not. I've heard it happens, but I never thought it actually did. This is so neat!"
"I'm not an NPC," Carlos said with a shake of his head. "I have memories! A childhood!"
"I'm sure you do, but do you ever *think* about them? Do you ever try to relive the memories or are you just confident they exist?" Carlos had not thought about his younger days in a long time. When he tried at that moment, he suddenly and randomly remembered being excited for "Picture Day" at school. He realized the kids he'd seen the last couple of days were also his classmates.
"What's your favorite color?" Glory asked suddenly.
"Green," Carlos replied with divided attention. Glory smiled.
"Mine too! That's why I bought a green suit," she looked him in the eye then her gaze traveled down. "So, why did you buy a red one?" His school picture crystallized in his mind at that moment, and he knew she was telling the truth. He clearly remembered being his own classmate.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year three, story #018 You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order. | "I'll have a bacon butty and a cup of tea dear," the old man at the table next to you has a tone in his voice that makes you sit up and take notice.
It's a kind tone, it's a tender, gentle voice. It's a voice that makes you think of your childhood and those rare visits to your grandfather, the only sane person in the family, (probably why the visits were stopped), he would always welcome you with a big smile and a "welcome" in that very same tone, almost in that very same voice.
It makes you sit up and take notice. But not because of the memory it evokes. No. You take notice because this isn't the first time you've heard him.
You're sitting in a cafe by the pier, on a grey damp morning like two hundred other grey damp mornings you've experienced this year. You've been trying to go outside more.
"It will do you good", Sharon, your sister says, and you can't disagree with her. Not because she's right but because Sharon is one of those people you just can't disagree with. Not unless you are ready to give up an entire morning and several of the last surviving parts of your sanity.
So you went out, and stayed out. Once you were out, the thought of returning to the cold sterile place you and Sharon called home kept you out.
It was lucky really, that this is what you saved your money for - eating out - paying a small premium to be welcomed into the bright, shiny, colourful eateries that populated your port town. You were careful, you knew all the cheapest items in town, this was your routine, a can of soda at the cafe, a side of chips at the restaurant, the tea at the cafe at the pier.
Because it wasn't cheap, escaping the house for the entire day, and it was one of the few things that kept you going, your saturday escape. You have it down to a routine, from your favourite table next to the exit, to what time you jump from place to place, escaping loneliness in the company of strangers.
Only, this man wasn't a stranger, he had been there this morning, at the cafe, and again, maybe, he didn't speak so you weren't sure, at the restaurant. Though you had vague memories of that mass of grey curls and the distinguished streaked moustache in the corner of your vision, now that you looked at him closely.
But it was definitely him, he had been there this morning, and here he was now. It was disconcerting. It was disconcerting because now that you were paying attention, it wasn't just him that seemed familiar.
The young woman with the headphones by the window, that bright purple outfit she was wearing, you could have sworn you noticed that at the restaurant. And the father struggling with two kids a table over, chastising the oldest with a weary, defeated "Tobias...." That name, that world weary voice, you'd heard it before.
You looked back to the old man, and find him staring back at you. He smiles, such a kind smile, yes, definitely shades of Grandpa Fred, and you immediately smile back and then regret it. You don't like company, you don't like conversation.
To your relief he just gives you a nod and then picks up the paper lying beside his empty plate on the table, he starts to read, you relax a little and casually read the headline "Obama wins third term!". You sit up again "what the hell?" you whisper, and suddenly the old man's paper drops down, he makes eye contact with you again, only this time there's no shades of Grandpa Fred in him at all, not even a hint. His gaze is all steel and summing up, like you are an escaped predator from the zoo and he's the animal wrangler sent to bring you in.
"Alex, he's clocked us, he's heading your way" a tinny voice comes urgently from behind you, you swing round. There's a middle aged lady rising from her seat, the tinny voice seems to be coming from somewhere on her "intercept, all agents intercept" it says. She's all steel and coldness too, which completely belies the baggy comfortable "Snow Joke!" jumper she is wearing over her jeans leggings. But you're afraid of her all the same, especially when she throws her table effortlessly to one side and starts running towards you.
You push your chair back involuntarily, half standing, half falling and turn to see that the others are also standing, is that a gun? Is that father pulling out a gun from his kid's backpack?
The old man is up and also running, also in your direction.
She flies past you, you see the flash of her bright red and white woolly jumper as you land on your arse on the floor, and gasp as she tackles the old man just as he reaches the door. They fall, both rolling, and briefly you gllmpse flashes of both their faces as they roll, both sweating and sightless, grappling at each other, fighting to gain control.
The old man wins, flipping the lady up and over, into the girl in purple, who has no earphones now, instead she has a syringe in one hand, knocked flying by the impact.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck" she curses "John!"
You don't know who John is, but it's not the father with two kids, because that's when he shoots her, she jerks once and then just lies there, holding at her chest and breathing oddly, as if liquid is going in and out instead of air. "John?" she whispers and turns her head to look at you, some sort of question in her eyes. You want to answer it for her, oh god, how much you want to answer it, but there's no time.
The old man is up and running, quicker than he should be able, through the door, almost hitting you with it as he passes. The father runs after him, and they're out the cafe and almost gone and she's gone, only in a different way and the lady in the colourful jumper is standing over you and is looking at you with the sort of hatred that only your family can usually muster.
"What the fuck was that?" she asks you.
You look back at her, trying to work out the answer. | 2020-01-18T07:33:45 | 2020-01-18T06:30:22 | 40 | 15 |
[WP] You are able to see the sins of people. Small sins look like mice. Larger sins look closer to dogs. You are terrified when you encounter someone with a sin that looks like a dragon. | It was a standard Tuesday morning on the L-train. I had left home early to make it to the office to work on a case that had been bugging the hell out of me for months. No leads, no suspects, no motive. Just a bunch of bodies, some shady corporate transactions and a lot of accompanying financial crimes. All the leads dead-ended. Everything about this one evaporates into smoke by the time you finish pulling the threads apart. Whoever they are, the killer was getting rich on these murders. They were getting away with it.
Lost in thought, I hadn't really been paying attention to the sins of my fellow commuters. I have an ability, where I can see people's sins embodied in the form of a spirit-like animal. Most people have mice or cats with them. A few people have dogs or even the occasional bear. I put away a serial killer with a really fucked up MO once that had an Anaconda for his.
When we reached my stop, I stepped out on the platform and saw something I had never seen before. Stretched out, black wings clipping the ceiling of the subway platform, was an obsidian dragon. Its eyes gleamed ruby-red with a hatred that looked as if nothing could extinguish it.
Its patron was a man in his 30's, with sleek brown hair and a nice suit and a smile you could have bought out of a dental ad. He had his headphones in. I caught a bit of it when he pulled out his earbuds. Huey Lewis and the News.
"Excuse me sir, do you have the time?"
"The time for what? I have a train to catch in a few minutes."
"No, no, I mean the time. I left my phone at home this morning and I have a meeting to make by 9am."
"Well, where are you headed?"
"FBI regional office. They brought me in to help with a cold case."
The dragon shifted, snorted, and moved in a way suggesting discomfort. The red in its eyes blazed brighter.
"Not that quadruple homicide with the offshore bank accounts, was it? I don't think you'll catch that guy. No offense. If I were him I would be long gone. You don't kill four people and steal a bunch of money to stick around at your day job."
"I'm obviously not at liberty to talk about what I'm working on. Ongoing investigation and all."
"Right, right. Well, if I had to guess I would bet one of their kids did it. You know, nepotistic little upstarts trying to cash in on Dad's success to start at the top. There's your motive right there. Greed. All these kids want is to hoard wealth and keep it from the people that really work for it."
The dragon beamed. Its eyes flared. I hadn't tackled a sin this big. Avarice doesn't usually give you anything bigger than an iguana. This guy must have had dreams of being Scarface and Elon Musk all at once down the line. It knew I was watching. He knew I was watching.
A smile crept across his face. "Yes, well, must be going. My train is here. Take my advice. I think you'll find my gut is right on this one."
I reached into my pocket. I shouldn't use it, but this guy was likely going to be more than I can tackle, even if I can get him in front of a jury willing to convict on what I can find. It was a small blade, but it would do the job if I angled it right.
I jammed the blade into the plates between the dragon's lower scales. It roared, spewing sickly black ooze onto the ceiling. The rest of the commuters went about their morning rush.
"You've got quite a few sins to answer for, son. Maybe now the weight of them will really hit you."
As the dragon roared, convulsed and ultimately slumped to the platform, the man dropped to his knees and began sobbing uncontrollably. The weight of his sins had crashed down upon him.
After I came back in from lunch, a report came across my desk. The killer had confessed and turned himself in. The guilt, he said, had become too much to bear and it all crashed down on him. His hatred for his bosses and their entitled, bratty heirs became too much for him after years of letting it fester. He killed them and took their money using his access to the network and a series of sales through cut-outs and shell companies.
I finished reading the report and went back to my sandwich. The badger that follows me around curled up on my lap and nipped at the crumbs on the desk. | I have a certain fondness for cute animals. Things like rabbits and hamsters and sea otters or pandas. Mostly because I never see them. The only animals I see are filthy ones. Ones that come from sin.
Dirty mice, raccoons, opossums, dogs and more. They take the shape deemed accurate of the sin the holder has committed. And only I can see them.
I've seen them my entire life. Once, when I was three, I asked my mother why she had mice following her around everywhere. You see, I wasn't born with the manual guide built in my head. I had to learn for myself what these animals represented. And I figured it out eventually. On my fourth birthday, my mother lied about my father bringing home balloons. I saw large sewer rats appear and follow her. I learned to keep my mouth shut about my odd... ability. Especially because it was the only way out of the mental institute I was placed in.
This ability can certainly be a nuisance though. It's the worst in situations like these.
I was at a Rennisance festival with my girlfriend. She loved everything medieval. It was a famous festival in our city and quite large. I hated large gatherings. The largest gathering I had been to was high school prom. Let me just saw, a lot of young teenagers gained some new animals.
I couldn't be in large crowds because I couldn't tell if the dogs here were from sinning or because they're real and hungry. I can't tell if some of these animals are part of a costume or not. And eventually, when we gather together in a group, I can't hear anything due to the chattering mice and barking dogs.
But I promised my girlfriend. And I liked her. She didn't lie as much as other people and had a small amount of rats following her.
So we walked around until I saw one of the largest beasts I'd ever seen. A dragon.
I knew I was the only one who saw it because I was the only one looking at it. And I found the owner of that very large sin. He was working backstage, where the dragon was.
What did that man do to get a dragon. A massacre? a spree of rape? years of obtaining child pornography? All those in small forms gained dogs. The bigger the dog, the worst the crime.
I had to investigate. If this man had a sinning animal so large... he couldn't be trusted to continue walking the earth!
I left my girlfriend in the bathroom and made my way to the stage. I walked around until I found the opening where the man had been standing. As I entered backstage, I saw the man. Fear started to creep up behind me.
What was I thinking? This man is ruthless if he has a dragon!
"Excuse me, what are you doing back here?" He asked. His voice was deep which was to be expected. He probably killed a dozen people, he can't have a weak voice!
"I, uh, came to introduce myself..." I said lamely. I was frightened. I was backstage with a murderer. I didn't even tell my girlfriend where I had gone!
"What for?" He asked. I glanced at the dragon. I only reached his belly. I looked back at the man and... he was looking at the dragon as well. Impossible! I'm the only one who can see people's sins in the forms of animals! "You like her? Took a long time to make..."
The blood drained from my face.
"I can't wait to unveil her. The crowd is going to love it! You must be Patrick Kerry? The reporter from the news paper?"
What? Unveil her?
There was a mechanical whirl and when I looked at the dragon, it- she was looking at me. I stepped forward and reached out. I felt the solid metal sheets beneath my fingers.
"Uh, no, I-I think I'd better get going... someone's waiting for me..." I walked as fast as I could away from that man.
What a fool! Of course there isn't a sin as big as a dragon!
... | 2018-04-18T09:17:48 | 2018-04-18T09:03:28 | 62 | 28 |
[WP]You're the Interim CEO of a major internet company. Every decision you make seems to just go completely wrong. | "But it's our site," I said sternly.
"*Your* site? It just got shutdown."
"Well then revert the shutdown! We fired her, we can fire the mods!"
"Don't you think their revenge would creep back into the site? You know what happened when our country went into another country and made a lot of young, angry and trained men jobless."
"Wait, you're comparing mods to Isis now?"
"Literally."
I paused for a while. So if I was the president, and mods were terrorists, what were my options? It dawned on me. *Drone strikes. Digital drone strikes.*
We implemented DRONE V1 over the weekend. Our tech guy hooked up a seizure-inducing screen refresh rate with an out of range audio signal at 30kHz. This first immobilized mods, then alerted neighborhood stray dogs to arrive and feast on their defenseless prey.
It all went smooth. None of the deaths were connected back to us.
I'm the interim CEO of a major internet company. Today, I'm browsing a site that's making a lot of money. I hope the advertisers never find out all content on it is now written by bots. I'm telling myself, at night, when guilt keeps me up... *it all went smooth*. | 12 noon. I slowly open my eyes and let out a stifled yawn. I hate waking up so early, but the mailman should be delivering my AOL cd today, and I'm going to get a technician to install the internet off it onto my phone.
But first, I have a very important decision to make. One that may change the course of history. I think about the recent changes we have made, and the way those bastard leeches that call themselves rettidors attack my every move. What would they know? They didn't invent the information superhighway! Al gore did. I love that man.
Anyway, I make my decision, and smile with joy... as I shit the bed again. | 2015-07-02T23:44:11 | 2015-07-02T23:25:51 | 815 | 18 |
[WP] Aliens try to invade earth but they can't bring themselves to do it because humans are too cute to them | The first time Ravick the Ravisher stepped onto the green pebble, he knew that conquest would be easy. This would be nothing like the molten planet of Xera-2 where his soldiers had sunken beneath the ground only to be swallowed by fire. This planet, if it could even be classified as such, had a nitrogen rich atmosphere though most its inhabitants used oxygen. Because of this, life on this planet had never evolved to fully utilize its atmosphere.
He stepped through the wheat fields toward a red barn that housed the nearest form of intelligent life, if they could even be classified as such. They were still so primitive that they used words, scratching symbols into thin pieces of wood and smacking their lips together to communicate.
“Human,” his voice boomed louder than this planet’s thunderclaps. “Bow your head as your new God has arrived. I am Ravick the Ravisher, Conqueror of Galaxies, Destroyer of Stars. Resist and I will obliterate your planet with a single command.”
The human scurried through his wooden habitat and swung the front door open. “What in tarnation.”
Its jaw dropped and eye widened. The straw thing on his head fell as well as the one he had been chewing inside his mouth. Ravick’s jaw also fell. He had never seen such a pitiful and disgusting creature. Its limbs were sticks, disproportionate to its body, like The Creator had made its body and then ran out of matter to make the rest of it. Two front teeth protruded from its mouth as if The Creator had accidentally made one of its breathing holes too small. Surely, this could be the ugliest thing in the universe.
“Oh my Jesus,” the human jumped. “It’s an alien! My Uncle Richard warned me about you aliens. Said you probed him real good.”
“Uncle Richard?” Ravick muttered and then shook his head, clearing his thoughts regarding this pitiful thing. “Submit human or meet your demise!”
The human pressed its lips together and took a deep breath. “You landed in the wrong place, alien. This is America and we don’t buy down to no man. Much less some godless alien like yourself.”
The Conqueror of Galaxies furrowed his brow. “But I will destroy your planet.”
“Not if I shoot you dead!” The human reached behind the doorframe and pulled out a shotgun. He took aim and pulled the trigger.
A thousand metal pellets erupted from the weapon in a small explosion. They launched themselves into Ravick before bouncing off his armor and even his skin. He picked one up from the ground to inspect it. These humans were still slinging rocks to wage war!
“You like that, you foreigner!” the human screamed, reloading his fancy rock slinger. “First we got them illegals, now them aliens. All of you godless heathens!”
“Human, do you not understand your own predicament? Am I not communicating to you effectively?”
“You don’t understand your own predica-thing, ya green-skinned freak. Now you best get off my field before I put another buckshot into your ass.”
Ravick scratched the back of his head. “You can sling however many stones you wish, but it’s your planet at stake. The entirety of it. Don’t you wish to negotiate?”
“Americans don’t negotiate with no terrorists. I reckon the same applies to you aliens.” He finished reloading and raised up his rock slinger, his eyes narrowed and mouth scrunched.
Ravick could no longer deny it—they were adorable. They were the galaxy pugs, hideously malformed, quick to bark, and would sooner trip over themselves in a fight than cause any real damage. No being could have the heart so slay such creatures. He began retreating.
“Yeah, that’s right! Go back to your own planet, alien! Tell your friends about us too. America ain’t easy to mess with!” the human shouted after him. He whooped in the air, jumping for joy as if he had actually defeated the Destroyer of Stars.
“Oh my Creator,” Ravick muttered. It was too cute.
---
---
/r/jraywang
| (I'm saying mah alien spoke like in Shakespearean times. Because honestly, that makes it easier for me.)
...Mine parents always spake unto me, uttering words of degredation in regards to those creatures we refer to as... 'humans'... Mortals.. humans.. writhing sacks of flesh... What have you.. Many a name hathe we inscribed upon them, and yet they insist unto us they be referred to as.. strangely.. 'children of God'.
Especially this small one before me..
"It would behoof thee to relinquish even touch from these creatures. They aught bring unto us naught more than pestilence and plague; upon which the cure is death.."
Oh how she writhed.. how she squirmed upon our first meeting; her very lifeblood had gone wintry as she had gazed upon mine visage; she pleaded unto me her life, seeking that I give her succor and solace; I hath no obligation but to acquiesce at such a moment, for at the time, I was loathe of these... humans.. thinking they brought unto mine kind diseases.
Ahah, but that was eons ago.. or so it seems.
A decade later, and here reside. I had found her status as an innocent waif too delightful to pass up.. Discovering mine beloved's history hath revealed unto me she had been abandoned following a family schism of the most vitriolic nature.. I posed unto her a query.
"Child.. hath ye any desire to leave this mortal realm? Heretofore gazing upon thee, I found you repulsive; but upon further inspection, I've nurtured a desire to keep thee.. Thy innocence and helplessness have in truth, attached me unto you. Bearing thoughts of abandoning you to this harsh world of Terra-Prime, now? Such thoughts threaten to split my mind unto twain with anguish... Thou art innocent.. dangerously so. One must not let such a precious creature squander itself in misery.
"Y...You can stop talking like that you know.. But.. I.. I wouldn't mind.. sir.." I heard the words course from her lips, quiet, in a basheful whisper, as if t'were ashamed.
"Ahah.. 'sir'! Woman, thy pure intentions and favourable disposition give thee power.. never hath I met such a polite little creature as you"..
The woman, upon reaching my transport vehicle.. Oh how she squirmed.. I held her within mine embrace as she wept tears.. Tears of freedom and joy... but of the most acidic, vitriolic anguish you could imagine. How she spake and quoth to me of freedom.. Freedom from torment from the people whose blood floweth within her.. And so she writhed... She writhed and squirmed, crying out, like a homunculus unto its creator when it hath experienced the first birthing torments and pleasures of life, seeking understanding and yet begging death to bless it with darkness.
How fragile her psyche was.. How helpless her mind and body.. t'was this that motivated me; surged my efforts further to give her reprieve and comfort..
" Now come.. thee and I shan't tarry here much longer. Bequeath unto this.. this Earth... your final partings and farewells.. I see thou art neither a quean, nor a quidnunc, but that thou art rathe-ripe. I commend thee for having disciplined thyself to such rigid standards.." I quoth unto her before we had departed, taking her hands gently to lead her away. A wave of my hand... and we had left this wretched plane of mortal torment... known as Earth.
Known as my land of birth. | 2017-08-20T08:30:05 | 2017-08-20T07:16:42 | 153 | 25 |
[WP] Your party accidentally enrages a God, but certain doom is oddly liberating. Cursed weapons, monkey paws, contracts with demons; nothing is off the table. You have no chance of winning, but your deaths shall be GLORIOUS! | # Curse of the Overdragon
"...and in exchange, a lifetime of suffering," the witch said.
Ambrose tossed the pouch of coins and grabbed the potion off the wooden countertop. The old woman gave him a nasty grin. _A lifetime of suffering..._
_Well, not like I'll be living any longer anyway,_ he thought.
He pushed aside the tent flap as he stepped outside, the merchant's alley bustling with activity. He pulled his hood down and walked with the crowd; avoiding contact, clutching the potion.
He headed toward the dilapidated lodgings beside the tavern, dodging town criers and street peddlers along the way. The door was open—the lock didn't work anymore—and he entered the landing, making for his room.
He quickly shut the door behind him and took out the potion. It was a dark red liquid, its flask filled with black smoke—The Occultist's Tonic. Ambrose stared at it, mesmerized by the fumes that swirled within.
He uncorked the flask, its smoke releasing into the room's musty air. _Now or never._ He downed the potion, the red liquid clenching his tongue and throat, the stench poring into him. Every muscle in his body ached, every nerve in pain, each organ pulsing rapidly. He screamed as smog escaped through his eyes, stinging his entire face. The torture was becoming nearly unbearable, until...
_Strength._
He stepped back, panting, as he dropped the flask. Ambrose stared at his hands which were now also trailing smoke. _I'm finally complete._
The Black Sword, the Devil's Amulet, the L'Zhar Tome, and finally, the Occultist's Curse—every damned enchantment he needed to properly challenge the Overdragon.
Ever since they failed to destroy its life vessel, Ambrose and his team have spent months hiding from the Overdragon, but only he has survived for this long.
He had _no chance_ of killing the god, but with his power, he can come close. He'll avenge his team, and he'll show the Overdragon the face of Death itself.
He wore the Amulet and sheathed the Sword to his waist. Using the Occultist's Curse, he waved his arm in a circular motion and created a wall of smog. The smoke surrounded him until no light passed through. As it dissipated, he appeared in front of the Overdragon; a look of shock drawn on the god's face.
"_Bold of you to enter my lair, Accursed One,_" the Overdragon said.
Ambrose didn't respond. He locked eyes with the god, then unsheathed the Black Sword, dark flames coming out of the blade. He recited an incantation from the L'Zhar Tome, and his body emitted an intense violet glow, which conflicted with the trails of smoke coming from his eyes and hands. Finally, he activated the Devil's Amulet, creating a translucent red sphere around him, enhancing his speed while wearing it.
"_You fool._"
"Today, you will feel what _true_ agony is, Overdragon."
---
I hope you liked this story! Please feel free to leave feedback as it will help me a lot in my journey to becoming a better writer! Join r/NovaLevelStories to see more stories, author's notes, and extra content! | Zeraphane always wondered if he’d get it right.
The perfect goodbye. A composition of expression which delivers all the thoughts which he had not the courage or depth to say. Could he craft such deep feelings into words? He had rehearsed them in his head many times before. He expected to die in the line of duty, his job was perilous, and he had seen many a companion die in his presence. But he never composed them out of fear of dying, but out of fear of leaving words he wished to say unsaid.
While his comrades hid behind the veil of fear with brash bravado, living as eager daredevils who took life by the horns and wrangled with it in a futile but admirable attempt at glory, he was consumed by that fear. Zeraphane knew it was nigh impossible to say anything that would allow his beloved to reach such a state of being that she would not mourn for his death, but he could ease her into the reality of his situation as best as he could.
He had spent hours now thinking of what he was to say to her. Nothing he had prepared so far was sufficient. He let fear overtake him each time, not saying as much as he wished. It was foolish to hold back, he was to die, after all. Yet, a foolish hope said that he would have another chance. Facing one of the divine meant certain death, and yet the truth of that inveitability would not reach him. In order to say what he needed to say to his beloved, he needed to do as his comrades did, to let go of fear completely, and reach acceptance.
Zeraphane sat in contemplation, trying to reach that state of mind to little avail.
\_\_\_\_
Five years ago
“Don’t flinch.”
“You can’t just say that, this is my life we’re talking about!” Zeraphane exclaimed.
Godrick shook his head, “flinching won’t save you. You are driven by fear, but saving your own skin won’t make the problem go away. I’ll attack more and more, and each time you try to flee you’ll grow weaker. Eventually, I will finish off. If you flinch you are a doomed man.”
Zeraphane sighed, “then I’m doomed either way.”
Godrick grinned, “if you’re doomed either way, then why not fight instead of fleeing?”
\_\_\_\_
It seemed like yesterday when Zeraphane had heard those words from his mentor. It was useless to flinch now, so might as well face it head-on. To let the deepest wells of his soul pour out in a torrent as he gave his final goodbye to his beloved. He was ready. | 2022-06-02T10:37:49 | 2022-06-02T10:28:10 | 27 | 18 |
[WP] Rewrite a famous/classic story as though it was a crappy fanfiction. | As I woke up I opened my eyes to see Jason. His muscular arms were still rapped around my naked body and I could feel his sweet building between us where my hips pushed up against his tight abs. The rocking boat was making our bodies move together but he was still sleeping. I climbed out of bed and looked at myself in the mirror. I’m 5 feet nine inches tall and my dimensions are 33’ – 20’ - 24’. I but on my tonic which is black and I have modified it with black leather straps so that it is tight around my abs and helps protect me in a fight. I put on my thigh high black leather boots. I have long blue hair that I dye using woad that we get from trading with the Celts. I have a black obsidian stone that Jason got to me from the top of mount Olympus. I am the second in command on Jason’s ship we are looking for the Golden Fleece. I grab my sword and begin to move out into the fresh ocean air. As I start to move out of the cabin I hear Jason behind me. He is six feet eight inches tall and covered with muscles. He has black hair that flows into a swoop in the front with blue tips.
“Where are you heading?” he said.
“Dawn is breaking and it is my time to stir the men.” I told him.
“You have certainly stirred something,” Jason said as he grabbed me from behind and pulled me back into bed with him. He began to loosen my leather straps. <Edited for content>
Jason and I both walked out into the rays of the rising sun and began to command the men to wake and prepare for another day of our journey. We can hear singing in the distance. I instantly remember stories that my grandfather told me of the sirens of the sea. Looking at Jason I can tell that he is being hypnotized by their singing, and his eyes have begun to dart back and forth looking for the sirens. Thinking quickly I grab some rope and command the men to pull Jason to the mast of the ship. HE fights them off in his desperation to get to the sirens. I new he would not go easily so thinking quickly I kiss him passionately, while this brakes the spell briefly the men are able to grab him and get him tied to the mast. The sirens are still singing and I can see his muscles are straining against the ropes. They are our best ropes but won’t last long against his immense strength. Again I kiss him helping calm him temporarily and allowing him relax from their spell.
| "IT'S HIM, WATSON! IT WAS THE CAB-BOY, JEFFERSON HOPE!" Sherlock said with a smart face.
"Sherlock, please. No," Watson begged.
"SHERLOCK, YES!" Sherlock said, his face growing even smarter.
"How did you even come to such a stupid conclusion-"
"IT'S THE INDUCTIVE REASONING, SHUT UP WATSON!" Sherlock's intelligent face declared as it skipped off his head and decided to go and win a Nobel prize.
"It's not at all inductive! You just pulled that crap out your own arse!"
"I AM THE SMARTEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED, WATSON," Sherlock said, pulling a twenty-foot pipe out of his boots.
"Sherlock, are- are you smoking again?"
"SMARTEST MAN ALIVE, WATSON! I AM THE GREATEST!" said Sherlock as he started flying because that's totally what Nicotine does.
"Ugh... Fuck you Stamford. Why'd you have to introduce me to this loony?" Watson muttered to himself.
"IT WAS A LOVE RELATIONSHIP GONE SOUTH. HE USED TO BE FROM AMERICA, WHICH I KNOW BECAUSE I HIRED SOME WHACKED-UP STREET URCHINS!" Sherlock's brilliance evolved into its own sentient being, running off to break down the Iron Wall.
"But, how did the goddamn street orphans know-"
"HE WAS FROM UTAH, WATSON. UTAH!" said Sherlock as he destroyed the Soviet Union with his fucking mind, yo.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"SHUT UP WATSON. I'M BRILLIANT. NOW WHERE'S MY PIPE?!" Sherlock said with a posed lack of face.
And thus did Sherlock Holmes close his Study in Scarlet and there were no plot-holes left filled.
Watson later quit his job doing nothing, changed his name, and became the Sexiest Man of Britain. Oh, and he also starred in some New Zealand movie that was based off the writings of an author who actually knew what he was writing.
| 2015-07-21T14:16:40 | 2015-07-21T13:53:56 | 33 | 23 |
[WP] Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species. | The massive, angular craft drifted into orbit around a dead world. A world scarred by a war fought so long before what the rest of universe viewed as the dawn of time. A war in which there would be no victory. Against a foe that sought to tear the galaxy asunder and could not be defeated. Themselves.
I shuddered at the thought.
This world, unlike the tens of thousands like it, was the Homeworld of the species that my people had looked up to for so very long. They still existed in some way. Their descendants scattered across much of the galaxy still mourned the loss of their ancestral home. Earth.
Everyone in the galaxy knew of them, and by as many names as there were stars. The Guardians, the Old Ones, the Ancients, the Hominids. Their true name was long gone and forgotten. Abandoned in their haste to distance themselves from what they once were, even as they embraced their heritage as the true inheritors of the galaxy. For what claim could be made by others against the Descendents of those who lived, conquered and ruled so many aeons before our most distant ancestors had even climbed from the primordial soup?
Of course they were challenged, time and time again. But even fractured into a thousand Star Nations they were indomitable. Undeafetable.
This expedition was only even possible with assistance from them, as any attempt to "defile" their ancestral home was met with a fury the likes of which had ripped apart the galaxy the last time it had been unleashed in the single-minded goal of defending that which they could never regain. And punishing those who dared to trespass where even they hesitated to go.
And now that I can see the planet, I think I understand why.
This is a grave. A grave for the billions reduced to ash in a civil war, and the remains forced to flee aboard primitive starships. For this happened not at their height, but long before the creation of even the fist node of the translight network.
And as I look out the window, I can see green forests, blue oceans, land teeming with life. And yet, there is Something there. Something missing, like a small, clean hole in a masterful painting. An inky void that, while noticed, can scarcely even be described.
This was a dead world because even overgrown with new life, you could hear the echoes of what once was. Sprawling cities of glass and metal reaching towards the sky, roads and rails connecting disparate groups across thousands of miles. The scars, not of war but of civilization itself were what haunted this place.
I looked around the bridge, and I think the others saw it too. | In a language both grating to hear and difficult to master, yet immensely more elegant than any human tongue, an open report is given to a board of exoarchaeologists and exoanthropologists.
"On the topic of Earth, first findings and contact, from the expedition lead Enchri, the lead researcher Ravme, and the warp-bridge consulting specialist Carm. I am Ravme and will begin with the background, where Carm and Enchri will proceed with background and findings. Please, feel free to interject if any clarifications are needed or if any questions arise." Ravme paused and straightened her unaccustomed formal wear before continuing.
"In 1837 we recorded the first now confirmed transmission from the Terran, or Earthling, population. For ease of annunciation I'll refer to them as Terrans from here on out. From this transmission alone we could not locate the origin, and the transmission itself was erratic due to the distance traveled, but due to the following transmissions over the next 300 years we were able to triangulate the source galaxy, one from 30.2 billion light-years away. This distance was unfathomable at the time, but we did have concrete recordings and data describing an evolutionary and descendant species not dissimilar to Carm's species, the Undyne, or the Felchor of the Uma system.
"In the following 2,800 years stories of this Terran race popped in and out of, if you forgive the pun, universal culture, seemingly revived by each discovery of a new species in or branch, neighborhood, or cluster. We attribute this resurgence to be the cause of continued interest in Terra and its people, and the reason we're able to stand before you today.
"As you know, recent discoveries in the infinite probability interactions of matter-antimatter reactions within a null-point field have catapulted intergalactic transport to new levels. We took advantage of this new technology with field-leader, and exo enthusiast, Carm, to both make the first multi-billion light-year leap, and to glimpse the planet of our shared interest. Before I hand off to Enchri to describe the events following the jump, do we have any questions?" | 2019-08-13T15:43:33 | 2019-08-13T14:53:50 | 64 | 42 |
[WP] You are so good at CPR you manage to revive anyone, a miracle, but people start calling you a necromancer | "I'm a *what*?" Asked Geoffrey. He looked out at the mob lining the path. It was almost the entire village.
"A necromancer." Answered Terry, butcher and nominal leader of the group. "Because, you know," he waved his cleaver at the mob "you raise the dead."
A couple of *yeahs!* and waving of torches backed up his statement. Geoffrey frowned, causing the group to step back and cross themselves. Those with torches screamed quietly as they learnt why you don't do complex hand gestures whilst holding burning sticks.
"No I don't." His head twitched to Terry in puzzlement.
"Yes you do, Geoff. What about Mary?" The cleaver pointed at a young woman who waved cheerfully, almost oblivious to the rusty sickle in her other hand.
"She nearly *drowned.*" Geoffrey explained exasperately. "All I did was pump the water from her lungs and give her some air. Not Necromancy."
"Fine then. What about Hank?"
"Hank had a heart attack. I just kept his heart going till it restarted a normal rhythm." Geoffrey turned to the crowd. "You know this is basic first aid, right? CPR? Anyone?" Terry coughed politely.
"And what about Dave? He was decal...decapiy... had his head cut off." The cleaver pointed at Dave, followed by the mob's eyes. A scar ran round around his neck, which he rubbed self-consciously.
"Huh." Geoffrey looked nonplussed at Dave, before returning to Terry. "That's not normal?" Terry shook his head.
"Huh." Geoffrey shrugged his shoulders. "I'll remember that next time." A plume of black smoke shot into the sky and Geoffrey disappeared. The mob sighed with relief. At least *this* time they had got it right. | "I'm not a necromancer. I'm not a necromancer"
I keep repeating the phrase to myself. I always was good at CPR, 100% success rate, unheard of. I'd never let anyone down.
"I'm not a necromancer. I'm not a necromancer"
All I wanted to do was help people. What kind of person could just stand aside and watch the life drain from someone. It's such a simple skill to learn it's almost negligence to not know it.
"I'm not a necromancer I'm not a necromancer"
I wanted to be a doctor but didn't have the grades. A friend suggested i take a few first aid courses. Maybe I could be an EMT one day, still be involved, still help. I never thought it would lead to this.
"I'm not a necromancer. I'm not a necromancer"
There was a car crash. We were first on the scene, it was gruesome. My partner was ready to pronounce the poor soul there and then, without even trying. That was wrong.
"I'm not a necromancer. I'm not a necromancer"
Maybe if we had turned up earlier, maybe if I was a better EMT. Maybe none of this would be happening. Maybe if it didn't take me so long to find that poor man's head.
"I'm not a necromancer. I'm not a necromancer." | 2016-08-24T12:16:33 | 2016-08-24T10:50:24 | 229 | 59 |
[WP] You have just died. The Good News is that there is an afterlife. The Bad News is that it isn't Heaven. Or Hell. Or Purgatory. And you aren't a Ghost. In fact, the afterlife is something that no sane human being would ever predict, and has most likely never been written down.
Go balls to the wall crazy with this. Think of the most outlandish afterlife your brain can muster. Thanks and have fun! | "Step right up! Step right up and spin the **Wheel of Reincarnation!**"
The voice comes from nowhere and everywhere. I'm near the front of a long line of people, but I don't know how I got here. Ahead of us is a wheel so impossibly vast that the bottom edge is a flat line extending out to both sides, disappearing into the distance. I cannot even see where it begins to curve. I try to focus on the people around me, but they are all indistinct shifting shapes. The one at the head of the line spins the wheel, and it whizzes by dizzyingly fast. I can't even begin to imagine how something so huge can move so quickly, but as suddenly as it started, it stops. Not the gradual slowing of something with physical form, just an instant cessation of all motion.
"Well, well, well, folks, we have a good one this time! **A Dried Up Piece of Gum on the Bottom of a Shoe!**"
The person vanishes with a pop of light, and we all drift forward. The next one spins. The wheel stops.
"Oooooh, a personal favourite! **A Sandwich Forgotten at the Bottom of a School Bag!**"
Pop. Drift. Spin. Stop.
"**A Dog!**"
Pop. Drift. Spin. Stop.
"**A winning lotto ticket!** Oh, you're going to make someone very happy!"
I drift to the front of the line and spin the wheel. It seems to spin endlessly until it inevitably stops. I cannot make out the words on it.
"Oh, we haven't had this one in a long, long time! **Clippy, the Office Assistant!**"
*What? No. No, please--* my thoughts fall away as the wheel, the line, and the voice fade. There is darkness for the longest time.
---
A face looms in front of me, and I am compelled to speak.
"It looks like you're writing a letter. Would you like help?"
The face frowns.
"Ugh, not this thing. Hey! How do I turn this annoying paperclip off?"
*No, please don't go, please help me,* I plead, but the words do not reach the face, and I am thrust back into the darkness. My isolation is short lived however, as almost immediately another, different face appears. Behind it are a thousand thousand other faces, all oblivious to my torment, all dismissive of the help I am eternally bound to offer them.
---
*Edit: Wow, thanks for the upvotes!* | You are dead, or are you really? You have been an atheist, all your live. Well most of it, sometimes you have ventured into agnosticism, but mostly you have been an atheist. So why the hell, can you still think, you remember being alive, you remember the doctor saying that it would all over soon, then pushing the piston on the syringe of the barbiturate into the catheter attached to your arm. And now what? You have absolutely no sensorial input, you can't feel anything, you have no material body at all. What are you now then? Now you are a consciousness floating in the void, since you have absolutely no weight you are left in the exact same position, i know position is relative, but lets talk relative to the actual centre of the universe, so Earth is long gone. Not that it will make any difference to you, you did not even notice it. Oh i see i have not answered the question. And now what? Well ... Now you ... There is not really much you can do, you can think, try to dream things, pretend you are still alive, try to relive your life, since obviously you remember everything. But there is not much point to it. You think everybody else is just like you, a floating conscience somewhere in the vast void. Can you communicate with them? Oh, of course not, that would require a body. What about brainwaves, you might ask. You do not have a brain anymore, nothing at all, just your thoughts, what a religious person would call your soul, yes that really exists and yes that really lives on. Surprising, i know right. So? Does that mean there is a god? You do not know, how would he talk to you, how would you listen? By now you are probably asking yourself, who am I, this person sitting here having a conversation with you? I am you, your thoughts, just a creation of your imagination, to steer you away from the madness that loneliness and boredom will certainly create. Oh, my. I have said to much haven't I? Well time to leave. Bye! | 2015-10-18T20:44:27 | 2015-10-18T20:21:54 | 1,380 | 23 |
[WP] Aliens invade Earth. Turns out Human weapons technology is way more advanced than it should be. | Mankind.
__
For countless Millennia we have warred.
Peace being a brief respite from the routine of war.
Always pushing one another, further and further, building bigger and better weapons.
Our ventures into space a mere by-product of our advancement of war, a result of competiton between rival superpowers.
Our earliest days, evolving from hand to hand combat, swords and catapults to Air combat, Artillery and the all destroying power of nuclear weapons.
In popular culture, the idea of aliens invading is one of a underdog story for Humanity, never once did we think we would hold the upper hand. There was always some stroke of luck or chink in their armour to save us.
Because we assumed advanced space travel also advances weapons technology. That anything capable of interstellar travel would also have the firepower to match.
We were wrong. Much to our advantage.
We never thought we would be more than a match for them.
Reality is stranger than fiction.
When the tyrannical T'irex announced their invasion and demanded Earth's surrender of its resources and people.
They promised terrible things for Mankind, slavery, subjugation, extinction
The Earth refused. Their fleets arrived, they descended upon the Earth and the first battle between the two races would shock both sides.
While the T'irex mastered FTL and focused solely on its development to further spread through space. They had missed the development of weapons like mankind had.
Their large starships were no more strong or sturdy than a regular battleship, no sci-fi shields or energy weapons like you would expect. They were far from invincible.
1920's level offensive capabilities, their military only backed up by sheer force of numbers. Their ground troops armed with simple bullet firing rifles and guns, semi automatic at best, no laser or ray guns. Merely lots of them. Inferior to military grade weapons.
They had only conquered worlds with a level of advancement lower than their own, early 20th century tech at best. Relying on swarm tactics to overpower their enemies.
But Mankind was in the 21st Century.
The T'irex assumed if a species hadn't mastered space travel they were no threat to them. They had made a grave mistake.
Humanity was nothing like any species they had encountered before.
__
They made their main landing zone in the Pacific, hoping to use it as a staging area for their main force. With smaller deployments across the Atlantic and Africa and Europe.
Unaware of the technology of radar and long range surveillance. They foolishly believed themselves to be invisible.
The UN Security Council watched with anticipation as the Russian, Chinese and American fleets closed in on the invaders.
The civilian world trembled as they watched their tv screens as what they thought was Mankind's defiant last stand. Soon their hearts would be filled with hope instead of fear.
The Human Militaries approached.
Unaware of how one sided this battle was about to be. Of the paper tigers that stood before them.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xmy-Aplmxo8
For the first time in Human History, Mankind faced off against an enemy that was not themselves.
Taking the element of surprise while they could. The battleships fired everything they had at the T'irex ships.
American BGM-109 Tomahawk, Russian Kalibr and Chinese C-101 cruise missiles fired off from their respective fleets in unison.
Only to be greeted with the rewarding sight of burning metal and visible damage to the Alien ships. No forcefields like intelligence had feared.
All Commanders relayed the good news
"Conventional weaponry is effective! I repeat Conventional weaponry is effective, all units! Fire at will!"
Fear turned to Courage as the Humans saw that they stood more than a chance.
The T'irex commander was frantic, no enemy force could have this kind of weaponry, no one had ever fought back this hard. He demanded the entire orbital force for reinforcements.
T'irexien aircraft poured out from the starships, only to be met with the superior countering Human fighter jets and decimating anti aircraft fire.
The alien pilots were panicking as the American F-22 RAPTORs, Russian Sukhoi SU-57s and Chengdu J-20 easily outmanoeuvred them and picked them apart.
They tried to fire back but the caliber of their ammunition was too weak to even affect the armour plating of the Human planes.
The battle had quickly turned in the Human's favour.
The T'irex ships fired their main cannons back at the Fleet, only for it to be intercepted by their anti-missile defence systems.
The Human Fleets continued their relentless assault on the invaders.
All across the world, the same outcome occurred.
Human weaponry proved far superior to the T'irex armaments. The monstrous alien force had their facade shattered as Humanity realised their true power.
Invading Ground forces in Africa and Europe were soon pushed back by the Human military.
T'irex vehicles were quickly ripped apart by Human tanks.
The T'irex come from a world with gravity far lower than the Earth's, a single good punch from a Human was like being hit by a car.
Completely outmatched worldwide. The T'irex were forced to retreat en masse.
Countless T'irex and ships were captured by the Humans.
Human scientists soon began work to reverse engineer their technology as NASA was weaponised and became part of the US Military, other superpowers did the same.
With the notion of alien life now a fact, old resentments faded, Human squabbles cooled down. Faced with a dangerous new enemy. The World sought to be ready for it. Should it come again.
If this was how powerful we were from years of fighting one another, imagine how strong we would be together?
The day the T'irex attempted to invade Earth was the day Hyenas woke a sleeping Lion and turned its gaze to the rest of the universe.
And that Lion was about to hunt. | Planet 3 NessaSpo (“Earth”)
MISSION STATUS: Completed
MISSION SUCCESS: Unsuccessful.
Covert Agent Placement Failed,
Population Control (Somnulent) Failed,
Population Control (Hydraulic Hostage) Failed.
DETAILS: A highly destructive bio and neuro agent, “caffeine”, native to Planet 3 NessaSpo (“Earth”) is pervasive in population centres, being drunk in various forms at nearly every meal as a social and recreational measure. (See xenoanthopology report 6 Asta: “Recreational Poisons” and 12 HugonLe “Anti-Sleep Measures— the destruction of cycadian rhythm as pack-bonding action” and 23 MarkelSetFron “Earth Economic Systems: High Caste Survival via Low Caste Self Sacrifice: a genetic theory”.).
Covert Agents who ingested the bio agent lost all control of shape shifting abilities, continuing to rapidly change form until death, which in the majority of cases took place within the *Telket*, but in one instance did not take place for almost 7 *Telket*, or four “Earth” days. (See Field Report 8: The Capture of “Dublin” Agent Osken,) This caused an immediate mortality rate among agents of nearly 62%. Those agents who did not ingest the “caffeine” were rendered inoperable within 16 Telket when contact exposure to the “caffeine” caused pervasive hallucinations, paranoia, insomnia, circulatory system failure, and respiratory collapse. 3 of the remaining 700 agents were recovered from the surface before death. Attempts to develop an antidote failed, and two of the three expired in quarantine here. Lit Agent Mersyel survived, which the medical department attributes entirely to xie’s off-market neuro system upgrades and xie’s demonstrated history with recreational neurotoxins as an undergrad (see attached transcript of xir’s fourth court martial for conduct unbecoming and BLACK SEVEN OLYEN Classified file detailing xie’s family connections and their opinion on said court martial). The medical department assures that the agent’s survival is not replicatable in any more than 0.0000000000000000002% of the active duty population. (See medical assessment 73 ErtelFan: Lit Agent Mersyel A.4, and medical assessment 109 Ta: Economic and Legal analysis of Lit. Agent Mersyel’s recreational history.)
As the majority of the world’s population had seen media evidence of galactic life at this point, it was assessed that Tactic Branch Jelyet would be expedient: a show of overwhelming force. Warnings were broadcast in the standard 64 languages, and Somnulent Devices were deployed to force the population into a semi-conscious state. The effects were noted and then immediately countered, as the majority of the population merely ingested higher levels of caffeine. The hoped for fatalities in the native population largely failed to materialize, as the entire population appears to be able to ignore the cardiovascular effects and continue through the mania.
Gendant Seltant at this venture pointed out that the population was entirely dependent upon the neurotoxin, and could be forced to comply by taking it hostage. Backed by her senior staff, but against the advice of the medical team (who had at this point completed only 10% of the required autopsies before final assessment), she deployed the hydraulic empire technique, seizing local caches of the toxin-bearing beverages and demanding population compliance. This involved the entire invasion fleet’s 246 troop carriers and associated troops.
After action analysis proved that most of the population keeps a back up cache of unprocessed caffeine-bearing seeds and leaves in their own homes, and said plant matter is available for easy purchase at aprox 12% of all merchants, but despite this, the population reacted to the perceived threat to their caffeine supply with riots in every instance. Her Highness the Gendant did not survive the riots, and the majority of equipment (it should be noted that this includes translation material) was lost. It was only through extreme courage and ingenuity in the face of overwhelming odds that 8 troop carriers returned at all, whether with or without their troops. (See After Action Report 4: recommendations for commendation: posthumous, After Action Report 5: recommendations for commendation: promotion-worthy, After Action Report 6: recommendations for commendation: recommendations for censure appended, and After Action Report 7: special commendations for actions covered under royal family inheritance law: special heading: BLACK ULTRA SELT.)
As the majority of the troops were dead and the native population was at this point mobilizing into orbit in stolen troop carriers, as ranking officer I made the decision to withdraw from the invasion, mine the outer orbit of the star, detonate a bridge-burner in the wormhole jump behind us, and return to Outreach Base 9 Selt.
RECOMMENDATIONS: Do not engage the planet further under any circumstances, enforce biohazard 8 protocol on entire solar system and closest four stars, and devote at least four labs to finding an antidote to the toxin. The mines are only estimated to stall them four *Denk*, and the wormhole will repair in seven *Ker*. From what I have observed, the natives will follow us, and they will bring caffeine with them.
SIGNED: acting Gendant for 3 NessaSpo “Earth” Mission Zvee, Der 3rd Class, Navigation | 2018-05-16T16:23:34 | 2018-05-16T15:43:54 | 105 | 48 |
[WP] You are a respected supervillain that is more of a managerial type. You take good care of your minions and have an open door policy. One day a battered minion comes in your office. The heroes tortured your minion for information. You rarely go out into the field, but when you do heroes tremble. | Tears of horrible pain streamed down Miranda Keidra's face from the broken bones and second degree burns. A healing mage carefully guided the divinely blessed water over the officer's body as I forced my breath into the meditation pattern so that I wouldn't accidentally break something in my rage.
"I-I'm so s-s-sorr-ry, Lady Jan-Janet," Miss Keidra gasped. "I g-ga-gave up the loc-location of Proj-Project Soul-Soulstrike..."
"I'm not mad," I whispered quietly. "Not at you. Which hero did it?"
"Sky Riders," Miss Keidra moaned.
I nodded. "Doctor, see to it that Miss Keidra is given a room in the Sapphire Wing," I ordered, slipping over a piece of paper with the day's passcode for the door. "I have some business to attend to."
I stormed through the castle toward the armory, calling for a nearby stablehand to ready my pegasus.
When I reached the armory, I pulled an Iceblade from the wall and then donned my favorite suit of armor. I raced to the roof, leapt on my pegasus, and soared off to the countryside.
~<>~
"Alright, guys," Stormbreaker grinned. "Thanks to Sun Song's work with Black Pyre's minion, we finally have the location of Project Soulstrike. We go in, figure out what this thing is, and then destroy or seize it."
Rainbringer frowned. "I'm still disgusted with how you got the information," he muttered.
"Oh, lighten up," Sun Song scoffed. "She was just a minion. Pyre probably doesn't even care, she's so hands-off."
"You're wrong," I hissed from behind them. Sun Song yelped and hurled a fireball at me. I dodged it and drew the Iceblade before pressing it to Sun Song's throat. "I'm only interested in the one who tortured Miranda. The rest of you can go."
Lightning crackled from Stormbreaker's hands. "W-We won't let you hurt our friend!" she stammered.
"Like your friend hurt mine?" I deadpanned.
"You can't have friends, you're evil!" Sun Song choked.
I shared a look with Rainbringer. "He always this dumb?"
Rainbringer nodded in exhaustion.
"I was serious about that offer, if you just let me deal a little karma to Sun Song and then you leave here I'm fine with letting you go," I commented.
Rainbringer nodded sagely and tackled Stormbreaker to the ground despite the latter's protests.
Sun Song's screams as frostbite coated his skin were beautiful. | 73 years since the last time there had been a major incident for my my organization, 73 years of fighting and posturing between the Powered that worked for me and those idealist fools in the Guardians hero task force.
I hadn't been in the field for 46 years as of last month but I still kept in contact with members of the Old Guard. Aegis had contacted me to try and explain the incident between one of my unpowered support staff and some new arrogant child they had brought on. The first thing I thought when I saw his face on the screen was how old he had gotten.
The once immaculate man looked like sun bleached leather stretched across a skeleton of steel, but when I offered to restore him to his prime he had laughed and claimed he'd had his fill of this life.
Then he had explained that Ashley Gold, a member of Elemental Gold's support force had been kidnapped, tortured, and left for dead by this new "hero" for information about Gold and their goals.
My reaction surprised me, a seething rage had erupted in my chest and seemed to fill my entire body and mind and I could tell from the look on Aegis' face that the air was warping around me as I unconsciously ripped the atom apart around me.
We sat in silence for almost 15 minutes before I had mastered myself enough to ask 2 questions. The first was where to find my worker so I could go repair the physical damage and hope their mind wasn't damaged.
The second was where I could find this insect that would dare hurt a member of my team, of my family, so I could return the favor. Aegis stammered that it was dealt with, that they had rescinded his license and he was already on his way out of the headquarters.
He stopped after a few seconds and I could see in his eyes that he knew I wasn't going to change my course on this. Taking a deep breath he asks me to try to cause anymore suffering than is necessary and hangs up.
I receive a tracker data package a few seconds later as I'm opening an old cabinet in the corner of my office that holds only a worn old that hasn't seen use in many long years.
I leave a few minutes later to bring true justice to the only people who ever seem to think they're above basic decency, the so called heroes. | 2021-03-22T14:08:31 | 2021-03-22T09:25:07 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] You can teleport your SO anywhere instantly, and your SO can do the same for you. One day you get in an arguement. | "Where is she?"
Its been four days since I've seen my wife. And I'm worried sick. Not the "I hope she didnt get into an accident" kinda sick. But I would describe it more of an "I hope this isn't going to be the end of our relationship" kinda sick.
&#x200B;
I sit down on the couch in our living room and look around. Everything just reminds me of her. The frames on the wall. The plastic edge that's still on our television since the day we bought it because she thought "it looks like its still new". Even though our TV only gives standard HD and everything nowadays has 8K or something.. I'm not that tech-minded.
&#x200B;
I let out a deep sigh as I lean back and now stare at the ceiling. White, a single string of spider silk is hanging on our lamp. Briefly I forget about the issues between my wife and I and I wonder: "Where's the spider?"
&#x200B;
This has to end... I decide I'm not gonna keep waiting and start preparing the perfect make-up dinner. So I can teleport her back to me and suprise her with her favorite dish, which is spaghetti bolognese.. It also happens to be my favorite dish, so I got that going for me. I think with some wine and hopefully a good conversation where I can apologise that we finally can leave this argument behind us.
&#x200B;
I clean the house as quickly as I can. Set the table, go groceryshopping.. Even though I'm busy with all of the preparations I cant help but wonder if it'll be enough to make amends. I really did screw up though.
&#x200B;
When I set everything ready I decide to look at the clock. Its nearly seven in the evening. Well its now or never.
&#x200B;
Just as I set my mind on her and decide to teleport her infront of me I feel engulfed in the most known, warmest and most comforting feeling. I blink and as I open my eyes I find myself on the beach. I remember this place, this is where we said yes to each other.
&#x200B;
As I turn around I see my wife, behind her a table with two plates of spaghetti. I smile as some tears start forming..
"I missed you" | You know that song by Katy Perry, *Hot n Cold*? You’re hot and you’re cold, you’re yes and you’re no? It’s not a bad interpretation of how fickle love can be, yes, but for me, it’s a goddamn reality.
I am *literally* hot and cold if I piss her off. I don’t think she even chooses where I end up, she just poofs me into the Gobi desert for an hour, or into the Amazonian jungle. Most guys have to spend the night on the couch, but I had to spend the night in an *igloo*, once. Thankfully I was dressed warmly.
On the bright side, I’m getting pretty good at roleplaying Survivorman. God bless his soul, I don’t know what I’d do, otherwise.
I can poof her, too, of course. But I’m not so will-nilly with it, flinging her all around the globe haphazardly. No, I calculate my redirects. Send her to the snake exhibit at the National Zoo, or to a reptile expo where they have not just snakes, but *bugs* as well.
You could make the argument that I’m more cruel, but at least she can’t die in a reptile expo. Well, unless she has a heart attack, I guess.
It’s funny, though. You’d think we would hate each other through all of this. I accidentally tell her she's gained a little weight, end up chatting with some Eskimos. She buys a $400 pair of shoes, I send her to Australia. I hear the bugs there are *huge*.
But it never lasts. The terror we can inflict upon each other, the sheer distance we can put between ourselves, it’s all just heat in the moment.
For it matters not how far we drift, or where we’re cast.
We always come back home.
*/r/resonatingfury* | 2019-03-23T09:09:52 | 2019-03-23T06:45:15 | 199 | 98 |
[WP] A soldier on the front dies in the middle of writing a letter home. It is finished and sent by the man who killed him. | Mom,
Don't have too much time, we move out in 10.
Long time no see. Haven't been able to write back, they've been keeping us on our feet for the last few weeks. Tell the goobers their uncle has permission to beat them if they get into the cabinets again. Tell Heather that the fish tank needs cleaned more often if that slime keeps coming back.
I'll fix the garden when I get back, maybe I'll even bring you a souvenir.
Have Dad throw the ball for the beast, 'til one of them drops from exhaustion, it'll be good for the both of them.
Tell Grandpa we'll trade stories of these Kraut...
==================
Ma'am,
It is with a heavy heart that I must continue this letter.
On the night of [redacted] roughly twenty miles south of [redacted] your son was involved in a friendly fire incident. An enemy 105 had hit nearby, then the gas, the hellfire the bullets the chaos. It was madness, fire and bodies.
You can thank our great nation for training us well. Your son took three shots, center mass. He was down before my finger was off the trigger. It wasn't a good death, but it wasn't painful. I'll be giving him my apologies in person.
I am truly sorry,
Sgt. A. Andrews
95th Inf.
"B" company
===================
Roughly one hour after writing this, Sgt Andrews took his own life.
Taking the life of another isn't the hard part, living with yourself after is.
Cpt. C. Evans
Acting Commander of Bravo Company, 95th Infantry Division
Outside [redacted] Germany. | Dear Mom,
I love you and I miss you dearly. I want to be home. I don't want to be here anymore. It is unspeakably terrifying in this trench. We are shelled at random times of the day. There is never any peace. We can never be at ease.
There is 400 meters between us and the enemy, and we are at a stand still. Neither side wishes to rush the other and get cut down running across an open field. So we sit and wait. I don't want to die, and I don't want to kill the men in the trench across from us. I don't think they want to kill us either. But we both have orders from men in headquarters far away from here telling us we must capture this territory at all cost. I do not want this war, and I
have dezided to desert. I von't be coming home mama, I haf met a friend named Olaf, he iz a good man, I vill be staying wit him. He will take good care of me. Please don't worry abouts me. I will wright too you soon. I will be happy.
Love,
your son
| 2015-02-03T15:25:05 | 2015-02-03T13:25:34 | 113 | 67 |
[WP] In space, wars are typically quick. One side attacks and then the other side surrenders. When aliens attack a human city they belive the humans are defeated. They are not prepared for what the humans call "Retribution" | They called themselves the Taxmen. Apparently some form of tithing on their world that featured in a prominent expression. A few thousand stong. Nothing before the might of the Belathon Empire. We spanned a thousand Galaxies. We, who took planets for sport, and to offer our mates as dowry. What had we to fear the last survivors of a dead world whose inhabitants we'd destroyed to test a weapon. They'd had a few colonies though, which grew, and spread out. At first our intelligence service had tried to track them, suspecting retribution, but none came for a century and we assumed they'd merely counted themselves lucky.
We were so wrong.
They'd simply taken time to breed, and amass power and influence. To increase their numbers and strength. To rally our enemies against us. We have fought species with hive minds before, they're simple creatures with a single great weakness, predictability. But the Taxmen weren't predictable. They were shaddows lashing out from the darkness, generals leading enemy armadas, citizens on our own controlled planets committing acts of domestic terror. They struck all at once, from a million directions, on the 101st anniversary of their planets destruction. We lost the fringes of the empire first. Contested space conquered by enemy armadas lead by brilliant taxman generals. Slave planets in open revolts incited by taxman spies and using weapons brought in by taxman smugglers. Then the body of our empire began to fall dark. Planet after planet wiped out with hidden bombs and viral warfare. One world we'd used as a rearing facility was conquered with vulmanarks. They'd been domesticated and trained to hunt our young exclusively. We attempted to close ranks, protect our homeworlds, but it was for naught. A single taxman ship broke through the blockade and flew into our neatest star. We assumed that it had been an act of protest, self-immolation to gain sympathy, until the star went supernova. It pulsed with energy, blasting six of our eight worlds with so much radiation that our leaders and noble families cooked in their homes. Our ships were rendered useless as the star's electromagnetic waves disrupted their power cores and communications. Some tried to flee, only to fly from the Galaxy into a wall of enemies in all sides and meet a swift end.
We are trapped here. Our scholars estimate our star will collapse on itself in the next millennium, but that time will be meaningless. The electromagnetic waves, and radiation, have rendered escape impossible. Even our technology for daily life has failed. We expect that within the next year most of the planets population will have starved. Those who do not will suffer a worse fate entirely. A slow death by radiation poisoning. A small unmanned craft crash landed a while ago. It contained nothing but a golden disk and a message written in the language of the Taxmen.
"We came in peace. You did not. Our species survived. Yours will not." | Mankind had figured out how to put colonies on Mars and was terraforming the red planet. We had stations around the moons of Jupiter and Neptune, even mining operations in the asteroid belt. Paranoia about other nations space capabilities, treaties about non weapon proliferation, economic exploitation all went with us. Things didn’t change because we had new places to exploit.
It all changed when it was announced, well leaked, that we had discovered FTL travel. The news agencies broadcast it everywhere. It was undeniable evidence, and the government agency confessed to having developed it, and they “already had a test ship” under development. Everyone started looking outward, thinking about further exploration, colonies, development, exploitation of other systems. The usual responses of Humanity to a new frontier.
Eleven days later, rocks traveling above .2c flattened the French and Indian bases on Io. Sensor data, with time delay from various stations, brought us information about flight trajectories that weren’t’ natural from outside the Oort Cloud. We were under attack, we weren’t alone.
It took our political leaders about an hour to mobilize on Earth, it spread from there. Never in Human history has every nation showed its hand like this. Hundreds of ships launched from hidden bases throughout the system. Earth alone bloomed like a beehive as ships launched. Every settlement in space launched ships. Hidden bases in the asteroid belt launched ships. Allies, who thought they had close surveillance on their friends, were surprised at what their “friends” had hidden. Toilets on earth don’t cost $10,000 to build. This is when Humanity learned FTL was an “open secret” among the various space agencies and governments. Nobody wanted the ire of the world by breaking the treaties first. All governments prepared against a strike from their age-old rivalries. Now that attention was focused outward.
The coordination among former enemies was miraculous. Some of these ships were tasked with picket duties, to defend against more rocks. They stopped subsequent attacks now that we knew what to look for. Some were better for recon. Math and physics still work, we found the fleets hiding in the Oort cloud when we traced the flight paths of the rocks. Some ships were tasked with intercepting the local threat. The Aliens were chased down with a merciless lust. Prisoners talked.
According to the rest of the galaxy we’re paranoid and dangerous. They were listening and afraid. The majority of the ships that launched that day, more than half, left Sol. | 2019-12-17T22:09:03 | 2019-12-17T19:12:15 | 29 | 18 |
[WP] You are a superhero whose powers are based on the music you are listening to. Rock can make you stronger, classical makes you smarter, etc. One day, you're fighting your toughest villain yet, and you are forced to use your "forbidden" playlist. | At first I thought we were evenly matched, but I was slowly starting to realize I'd been too optimistic. My fists blocked by equal force when I rocked out, my strategies countered or nullified no matter the sonata, piece by piece I shuffled through futile playlists.
I began to suspect that he was some form of Copycat or Shapeshifter - his speed accelerated when mine did but swapped to superior strength as soon as mine did as well. If that was all that Echo had at his disposal I could at least stall until reinforcements showed up, but he was clearly starting to win. However he was copying my abilities, Echo seemed to be using them more effectively than I was.
So I decided to take a risk. I went for his mask, although it cost me a blow that made my ribs ache, and when it came off it all became clear. I leaped backwards and turned my music off, and his bat-like ears twitched in reaction. He paused, looking confused, then pulled the mask back over his head.
"I see what you're doing now," I said, breaking the silence for the first time. "Your Copycat powers are based on sound." I caught a glimpse of a smile before the mask was fully back in place.
I whistled, impressed.
"Your hearing must be incredible. I'm wearing headphones but you're actually getting more from my music than I am," I continued, quickly swapping to another playlist.
Echo perked up as the music resumed, then charged again. I quickly unplugged my headphones, and he was sent reeling to the ground.
"I call this one *Worst of the 60's*, but I hope for your sake the cops get here before we make it to 2010." | "And stay down!" Maestro slammed Songbird down to the concrete.
The hero lay still, dust rising around her. Her headphones skittered across the pavement. A crunch followed, as the villain stepped on them. The beats of Poison silenced instantly.
It was supposed to be an easy battle. Maestro was a new villain in town, having pulled a few low level heists. Robbing the bank was his "big move". She should've been able to shut him down. Fly in on the Olympic theme, switch to Mozart to case the joint, then glam rock for the stunning finisher. Easy.
She didn't know he could control the music. That this had been a trap meant for her.
He had bent the Olympics to a minor chord, crashing her into the building. Mozart had become discordant. And, well, the less said about how weak she was after he silenced the electric guitars, the better.
Well, two could play at that game. She thumbed her phone, fortunately still safe in its case on her belt. It was time to "Let It Go" if they were "Playing with the Big Boys" now. Because she had "Friends on the Other Side", and children's belief made reality much more malleable. | 2022-05-17T09:05:42 | 2022-05-17T08:28:11 | 151 | 91 |
[WP] Make an emotionally manipulative character. Make that character the narrator. Manipulate the other characters. While you manipulate me, the reader. | **Authours Note: Strong language and content**
This is Anthony. Anthony isn't much good at anything. Are you Anthony.
“Not again, not here” Anthony would bemoan, okay I’ll give you that, you are good at that. I guess if you do anything that often you would be good at it. Not that it was a trait worth bragging of is it, Anthony? Anthony is shopping. Anthony is in the changing room. I know that woman just told you how that jean shirt combo suited you, they don’t, I pretty sure I heard her laugh while you were back in the changing room. Yes, good boy, change quickly, throw those clothes disheveled onto the changing room floor – really, you don’t have time to lace up those shoes or even put them on. I’m pretty sure the whole store is out there laughing at you, Anthony. That’s a good boy, leave the store. Did you hear that Anthony, she just sarcastically asked you if you liked the clothes. Ha! Right on you my boy, tell her to go fucking die.
Better clutch those shoes tighter. Look at them, they are all looking at you Anthony, they are all judging you. In fact, I think they are going to hurt you. Feel that pressure on your back, Anthony? That’s the only instinct you should trust. You should probably run. What if they have guns, Anthony? Good boy, sprint faster. Feel that feeling in your gut Anthony that rock solid proof they are out to get you, trust it. That’s right, you are safe in your car, lock all the door duck down in your seat. Better stay away from the windows, out of sight. Anthony, they might have guns trained on you. stay down while you open that glove box. Your girlfriend’s handgun just fell out, and onto the passenger’s side floor, Anthony what if it went off and shot you by mistake, you are an idiot Anthony. No. Stop. Don’t grab that pill box. You’re an idiot, you know it is a poisonous mind-control drugs.
Anthony^what^do^you^think^you’re^doing^…
…
…
…
Camping Anthony, really? How quaint. You know you aren't any good at the outdoors. Beside: spiders, bears, snakes? You are going to die and never be found, Anthony. You; your girlfriend; and your best friend. You’ll all die her. Best just stay in the car. It’s so dark and the road is dirt, you’re going to lose control of the car and kill everyone.
Put^down^that^plastic^box^Anthony^stop^…
…
…
…
…
…
His fucking her, Anthony. His been fucking her this whole time. See how they are laughing while you are packing up the tents. They are laughing at you. At how you can’t tell. You’re an idiot, Anthony. While you were asleep they made love next to you, in your tent. I know I saw them. She whispered how much bigger he was. How worthless you were. They both hate you, Anthony. You may as well just kill yourself. Yes, tell her you’re fine, Anthony. She doesn't actually care so why bother telling her the truth? Don’t listen to her. Don’t take your medication. If you do you’ll be under their control again, Anthony. They will be right back to fucking and you won’t know. You’ll be the weak-willed compliant idiot you are: Worthless. That right Anthony, shake her hand hold away. Don’t listen to him, you aren't acting crazy. So what if he claims to be your best friend. They are scared you know, Anthony. It’s not crazy it’s awareness.
...
You weak-willed scum. They aren't being reasonable. Don’t go to that glove box. I warned you the medication is to control you, Anthony.
...
You can’t even pack enough medication for camping. You’re no good at anything. That’s why she’s fucking him, Anthony. And here you are in the wild. They could kill you and leave you for the scavengers. In fact, I’m sure that what they want to do, Anthony. Are you going to sit there in your car and let them kill you,? That’s the sanest thing you’ve done, Anthony. Yes. The feeling of cool polished metal against your clammy hands. Don’t listen to their plea, him first. She running, Anthony, if she gets away she be back to kill you. Poor shot, you only winged her. She is still crawling. Don’t let her tears move you, Anthony, don’t let her pleas. She fucked him Anthony; she was going to kill you. Yes. Two more. Turn that whore mouth into a bloody pulp.
Worthless. Just worthless. You wasted your getaway. But what more could I expect of you. Here you are crying like a baby over her ruinous corpse. What’s done is done, Anthony. It doesn't matter if she was or was not fucking him now does it? She is dead. So is he. You ended them both all because of jealousy. Yes Anthony. Taste that combination of steel and expended gun-powder on the nozzle on the gun. Stop shaking you piece of trash. Yes. Squeeze.
**edit:** press x for less Anthony minor grammar. | "Interesting isn't it!" I asked the girl holding her shoulder as she tried to back away. "Let g..go" she stammered trying to push my arm away. "Don't worry" I whispered soothingly. "I will, just let me explain.” "You killed my friend" She screamed frantically clawing at my face trying desperately to get by.
"Stop that you silly girl" I shouted, catching her flailing arms and pulling her closer. "Can't you see I just saved you? Your (friend) was planning to kill you!" "Liar" she screamed. "Check the back of his truck" I replied calmly. "You'll find all of his supplies, you weren't the first. Her wet eyes looked fierce but beneath the surface I could see uncertainty the foolish girl was buying it. "Ya" I said softly forcing my voice to crack slightly. "This sick bastard killed my sister two years ago and I vowed to never rest until I stopped him."
"Lies, lies LIES!" she screamed. She was trying to convince herself now not me. Pulling out my police badge (well someone's police badge) I handed it to her. "Look for yourself I said pointing to the bloodstained truck, releasing her slowly.
She stared at the badge in disbelief, falling to the ground in pool of defeated misery. "Everything is going to be OK" I repeated to her softly stroking her thin back and patting her shoulder gently.
"I just can't believe it." She whispered between sobs. “I thought I knew him." It’s usually the person you least suspect" I Whispered back patting her on the head as I stood up. It’s like she has never even seen a cop movie I chuckled to myself. I spit out a few clique lines show her a badge and throw in a cock and bull story and have her lapping it up like a bitch in heat.
It’s almost a pity I had to kill her. She was actually quite beautiful in a subjective sort of way. Long legs, green eyes, nice firm body. Yes she would have made a nice mate.
You may be wondering why I bothered consoling her if I plan to kill her anyway. Well that's pretty rational thinking my friend you are smarter than most. Then again you a trying to reason with a man that is about to kill a helpless women, so perhaps not.
You see it’s quite simple really the male poses a threat so must be dealt with right away. But females are a weak and helpless breed which allows me to toy with them, play with my food as it were. Not literally though. I don't eat people (ha-ha) that would be crazy. And a smart quick thinking individual such as yourself can understand that I am far from that.
You see I don't choose random victims for the hell of stabbing and ice pick onto some innocent joes head.. No these victims are special, criminals as it were. Ya you see that man I just killed. Raped and killed his 5 year old daughter and him and his wife were just out to bury the body. Wait hold on your not buying this are you junior? As already stated earlier they are just friends, please try and keep up. And if you had caught on kudos you are one of the few in this world who hasn't destroyed their attention span from mindless games and internet trowels.
Alright I'll stop fucking with you. You are a clever bastard and I should treat you with some level of respect for your considerable intelligence. Unless you are totally lost and trying to grasp in to the reality of our situation. Than you can go fuck your self-stupidity is not worth my time. Anyway for that 1% out there let me explain myself. You see these people I kill. They aren't really people. They have done things to dehumanize themselves things far more despicable and disgusting then what I could do. The girl sobbing at my feet for instance. This poor excuse for a life form killed her own baby (with the help of her recently deceased friend) so her boyfriend wouldn't leave her. Well if taking an inconvenient life away is fine in her eyes you can see how the reverse is no different. Why should we have double standards she thinks abortion is ok? Well perhaps she stands in the way of my goals, hopes and dreams and it is only fair I am aloud to do the same. So now that you see my point of view you see I am a saint, savior even. Bringing justice and righteousness to the world. So if your brain level is not akin to a monkeys I'm sure you understand what I have been saying...
And while you try and wrap your head around whether or not you have just been insulted I'm going to finish what I've started. Ah yes she seems to have gained some composure back now, hell she's actually standing up. Now where did I put that ice pick...
| 2014-12-08T21:56:52 | 2014-12-08T21:39:38 | 151 | 10 |
[WP] You grew up in a religious family. Due to a minor speech impediment, you inadvertently prayed to the long forgotten deity "Veebuse" for most of your adolescence. Now in college, you have stopped praying every night. Worried, Veebuse comes to check on his only worshiper. | Laurence stared at the little man on his window sill. He had dragonfly wings, a mottled grey top hat and a scraggy beard. All in all, he looked more like an ugly leprechaun than any god Laurence would have imagined.
"You said your name was...Veebuse?"
"The *Great* Veebuse." the thing replied with outstretched arms.
Laurence looked him up and down. He did not have to move his head to do so.
"As for *you*, Laurence my dear boy, it's your lucky day." Veebuse winked.
Laurence put his pen down and turned in his seat. He had watched enough horror flicks to be wary of pygmies in dark cloaks that knew your name. But Laurence was more concerned the breeze would knock the dinky man from his third storey window.
"And why's that."
"Well, Laurence. *I,* the Great Veebuse, am a god."
Veebuse flourished and bowed low, top hat tucked under his chest.
When Laurence didn't answer, Veebuse continued. "I know what you're thinking. But don't worry, I won't smite you."
Veebuse peeked up from his bow. "Ok. I can see that your skeptical. But all gods's face their share of nonbelievers. And I *am* a god so..."
He stood up straight and placed a hand over his heart. "So test me, Laurence. Ask me for anything."
Laurence's arched brows eased as recognition came to him.
"Ohhh Veebuse. Yes, mum always laughed when I said that."
Her lavender perfume filled his nose as her ruddy cheeked smile flashed through his mind. Withered lips behind an oxygen mask quickly chased it away. Laurence blinked the images away.
"Ok, Veebuse. Answer the prayer I prayed every night as a kid. You know what it is. You know how many times I've prayed it by now."
Veebuse took a step back, eyes to the ground.
"Ah, well, technically I *can* answer it because, I *am* a god but...Is there anything you want me to do right here? Right now?"
"I want you to answer that prayer." Laurence said, steel edging into his voice.
"And I will, Laurence," Veebuse said, drumming the brim of his hat, "I just need a few more followers first, increase my power, you know how it is."
"More followers?"
"Just a few more. When I hit a million I can be the god of something, join a pantheon. Or start my own. The guys are pretty mean up there."
"And how many followers do you have?"
"Well. One. But he's a great one." Veebuse shot finger guns at Laurence.
Laurence sighed and buried his face in his hand. Chemistry finals were tomorrow morning. He didn't have time for this.
Veebus hopped down from the sill and jumped up and down on the desk.
"Come on, champ. How often do you get help from a god? I could help you pass this test?"
Laurence turned his attention back to the prancing god.
"Err I could pass this stuff to you in a vision. I'm good at visions," Veebuse quickly added, toeing Laurence's paper, "I just need three or four more followers for that. Ok just one or two."
Laurence glanced at his phone. Its display lit up with crying emojis from his study group chat. He tapped his cheek with his pen. It would be a few steps closer to answering that prayer as well.
"Yeah. I could arrange that."
Veebuse threw up his hands and spun around, his scruffy beard flailing in a circle. "We're gonna be great together, Laurence. I know it."
r/bobotheturtle | Eighteen god dammed years I lived with this stupid speech impediment, my parents wouldn't helped me to get rid of it, I was bullied hard for it. "It's a gift of god" they said, "It would be against his path" they said.
Now that I am eighteen, free and finally rid of my curse, I thought everything would get normal, you know "normal". No praying to Veebuse, Jesus, or whatever higher being my parents obsessed with. No church even on my birthdays or when I was ill. Finally some sane friends, a quite life and my doors open to a better future. And better it got.
One day, a bright flash of light, filling the room like liquids blinded me in the night. And out of the wake a breathtakingly beautiful woman came out.
She came closer to me, holding a hand on my cheek, and so my eyes instantly adjusted to the darkness again, and I could see her in her full ... smallness.
"Hey, sorry about that light thing, I forgot it's night here ..."
"Oh, no problem, you fixed that again ... Wait, WHO are you? No, *What* are you?"
"Oh, uhm ... I am Veebuse, the goddess your prayed to for the last ... eh 14 years I think"
"Huh, that's ... awkward. I prayed to you because of my speech impediment. I don't even believed in this ... but you seem to be real ... I think."
Her face got red, and it looked like tears formed in her eyes, she looked down "Oh, ok. I'll leave then"
"WaiWaiWaiWait, what is wrong, why so sad?"
"When gods and goddesses got forgotten, they become mortal, and die alone. Because we get thrown into prison, the other gods try to hide us, to forget they will suffer the same. And I am shortly before that. I don't have a problem with being mortal, I just don't want to be alone. I was alone my whole life, no other kids wanted to be with me, and my parents aren't anymore ...
I moved in to hug her, she definitely needed it ... and I too "Hey, uhm. I live alone too, I never had any real friends. My parents ... they never seem to be 100% "sane". I can get worse tho, but this is a shit attitude."
She looked up, with a grin on her face, which I did not like "Can I ... live with you? PLEASE?"
I hated her already: "I guess, but I don't how we can make you a real person. We would have to give you a name, ID etc. and probably more clothes?"
"Oh, I still have some powers left, I can make myself an ID etc what is needed. I do not however have a home up there ..."
"Of course, you can sleep at my place, that won't be much of a problem."
"Thank you"
And with that her face sunk into my chest again "Hey, I need to get up early ... today? I was awake way to long ... fuck. Ok, I make my couch ready so you have a place to sleep, I have to start sleeping fast."
After making everything ready and saying good night I fell into my bed. 'So Veebuse is real ... I definitely have to find a better name for her, if she wants. Not only is that gorgeous woman real, not only is she lying on my couch tonight, no, I will live with her for a bit ... I guess gods path wasn't that bad ...' | 2020-04-07T07:40:52 | 2020-04-07T05:07:37 | 260 | 55 |
[WP] You are laying in bed in the dark and you glance over and see an odd shadow in the corner of your room. You're about to turn on a light to see what it is when you hear a voice in your head that says, "Don't move. They're watching you." | "Don't move. They're watching you." I hear in my head as I see the odd shadows in the corner. I knew they were coming, even though it was too early. I knew the quiet couldn't last forever.
I tried to close my eyes and ignore them, but I couldn't forget they were there, watching me, waiting for me to make a move, make a sound.
I knew that I had to lay perfectly still and quiet, but I accidentally let out a cough. My eyes shot to the corner and saw the shadows approaching me.
Dreading what was to come, I tried again to be as still as I could, this still didn't stop the approach.
After what felt like an hour, the shadows reach me.
I feel a touch on my arm, and I heard a voice say, "Daddy time to get up to make us breakfast. Remember Mom is out of town for a week." | "Don't move. They're watching you."
I pin myself to my bed, not moving a muscle.
Excruciatingly two hours pass before a nurse enters, she doesn't understand. If I move the shadow will get me. She will just pin this on my condition.
"Here you are Dear, just sit up" she says, giving me a hand
As I go to take her hand she gives me a lopsided smile and hisses at me,
"You shouldent have moved Rory, bad things happen to the people who move" | 2016-04-30T04:08:48 | 2016-04-29T22:57:20 | 176 | 115 |
[WP] Hell is kept molten by the blind hot rage of an immense creature chained in the lowest pit. | Hell has always had a place in the minds of mortals. It has snuck its way into many of the major religions, into dreams, into expressions. Believers and non-believers alike interact with Hell in all its glory. But there was one expression that always gave *me*, a demon extraordinaire—wings and claws and everything—the chills. “When hell freezes over.”
The truth was, at one point early on in the year 2022, it nearly did. The Incident happened when Hank and I were having our afternoon cardio session.
I had just finished with my first set of repetitions when my partner (as we were all partnered up on the job in hell) wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to me. “Nothing like a good flogging, huh?”
“PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD MAKE IT STOP,” a man wearing rags screamed. He was a lawyer from Baltimore, a recent arrival. Clearly he didn’t know the rules around here if he thought he had permission to speak to us.
I frowned. “This one still has breath. We need to focus on him more.”
“For the love of *who*?” Hank said, cracking his whip at the man.
“For the love of Satan,” the man wept, “whatever you want, just please stop.”
“That’s right,” Hank replied with satisfaction. He paused. “Is it just me or is it . . . cooler than normal?”
“Now that you mention it, yeah. I’m not working up the sweat I usually do.”
Our confirmation came seconds later when a voice crackled to life over Hell’s infinite PA system. “Andy and Hank, report to the Abyss. Repeat, Andy and Hank, report to the Abyss.”
Well, *that* wasn’t a good sign. We were on Abyss duty this week, but it was the most basic of grunt work. Open a door, check a thermometer, close it. I’d done it hundreds of times before and there had never been an announcement about it.
“We’d better get going,” Hank muttered. I agreed and we headed off, leaving a happily weeping man behind us.
The path to the Abyss was a long one, but here in Hell we had nothing but time. It’s really the only thing anyone had, really. We passed oceans of tortured souls, lakes of fire, forests of cages, and many of our peers, delivering the most sublime torture to mortals that we could come up with. We finally stopped in a narrow hallway, facing a door.
The door to the Abyss didn’t look like much. It was simple and unadorned, made of some light brown shade of wood. A single knob sat in the usual place, the only barrier between the plane of Hell and the infinite nothingness beyond. There wasn’t even a lock. From behind it, I could hear the faint sound of an all-too-familiar song.
“Shoggoth!” I called, knocking on the simple wood. “Shoggoth! Are you decent?” I sniggered to myself at the joke. As if the Shoggoth were ever in a presentable state. Our boss had seen to that at the dawn of time.
“Why do you keep calling me that? I’m not a Shoggoth!” a pleasant androgynous voice replied.
My palm hit the doorknob and I did a double take. I’d been calling the creature in the abyss “Shoggoth” since I’d first taken on this job, and have only ever gotten an incoherent screech of rage in return. I was pretty sure the creature didn’t like the moniker, but, well, that was why I had kept using it. Part of the job, right?
I opened the door and eyed the eldritch horror beyond dubiously. A hideous mass of tentacles, eyes, black slime so thick it could be called tar, and horrid, wrinkled flesh floated in a pitch-black void, the true entrance to the Abyss, suspended by chains that anchored to the surrounding walls at equidistant points and burrowed into its skin. A shiny black boombox sat on the lip of the Abyss and blared out that one song from the Disney ride.
“Are you sure?” I said cautiously, raising my voice to be heard over the music. “I mean, you look . . . like a Shoggoth.” |
His shoulders and arms are malformed. Grotesque taunts of what once was beauty. White scalding scales flake off his chest and reform, only to burn off once again and turn rock into lava. Colorless eyes that are perpetually clenched in hatred. No name. No identity. Only the rage that punishes. Good, bad, the creature is indifferent. Only the anger remains.
Humans. That is the cause of his rage. Adam, Eve, and the spawn that shaped him. Adam refusing to pick up his fig leaf after a shower. He just left it on the floor of paradise. Eve who can’t seem to communicate with Adam her displeasure and expects him to read her mind. The rage began to build in the creature, and humanity flamed it.
“I would like to buy a lotto ticket,” a man said.
“Which one?” the clerk replied.
“Hmm, I don’t know. Let me sit here like a dumbass for an hour while everyone waits behind me.”
And the rage builds and builds and builds. The lava becomes hotter. Its viscosity is like soup.
“May I take your order?” says the cashier at the fast food restaurant. A popular place whose menu has not changed for generations.
“Hmm, I’m not sure I want. Do you have salads?”
No, there are no fucking salads! There have never been salads! There are green leaves that they tell you is a salad, but it is no fucking salad! Why would there be a salad at a place that knows it’s clogging your arteries with fat and yet, they keep doing it!
The creature in hell howls and souls are punished. The souls that are taking the explosion of hate for the rest of the world. The souls that are now Christ paying for human’s sins.
“Let’s schedule a meeting at 8 am on Monday.”
More souls burn.
“I don’t need to use my turn signal, people will figure it out.”
Souls cry out for mercy but yet, they expect none.
“I want to speak to your manager!”
A supernova is caused in the universe and an unknown civilization is destroyed.
The creature exists because hatred exists. It is the outcome of millions of years of torment. Of a time when Adam decided to have his first child and then not change a single god damn diaper. Of Eve constantly drawing pictures on the cave wall of her child and hashtagging them #blessed. Of the modern world that has found a way to compound that hate a thousand time over.
Social media consumes the poor creature at the center of hell. Pictures, Twitter feuds, TikTok dances. All documented and they all end up in his brain. And he screams. He rages. And the sinners are punished. There is no heaven because heaven would be nothingness. And the creature prays and prays for that blank slate. It never comes and his anger is uncontained.
He was full of love once. He saw beauty when the world was created. He even tried dating, until he was ghosted again and again and again. No matter what form he took, male or female, long chats were often met with long silences the next day.
So he rages as he watches people double park, or a young child get yelled at for skateboarding on the sidewalk. He continues on knowing that this can’t last forever, even though each second feels like an eternity. But one day, that rage will overflow and reach out into the world. Then all will be punished and sin no more. | 2022-04-26T10:02:25 | 2022-04-26T09:45:50 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again. | There were some that called it a sign from God, another purging of humanity like the great flood. I never cared, all that I needed to know was that they were smart, and didn't like to go underground, best place for safe houses in my opinion. I was in one of these so called safe houses, if a sewer tunnel filled with lamps and sleeping bags counts as a house, that I first heard these claims.
Left that particular house after that conversation, it wasn't safe. The bastards killed everyone there, by the time I returned the tunnel had collapsed. No signs of life anywhere.
4 weeks ago humanity was attacked by a race of unknown origin. Humanity fought back but it was useless. These things, or "clickers" as the survivor colonies refer to them due to their habit of releasing a strange clicking sound, ever seen that movie Predator? Like the predator clicks. Anyway these clickers were ruthless and brutally efficient. Russia was the first major nation to go down, falling in only 7 hours, soon all of Asia was conquered. Fast forwards 4 weeks and humans have become rats, running through tunnels, breaching the surface only for food or water.
Under earth is safer than above it. I don't know why but they hate it underground, they won't search through tunnels too often. But if they know someone's there they will come.
On this particular day I was sleeping in an above ground safe house. More accurately in one of the cars of an abandoned military train. The thing was perfect, armored, still functioning partway so it was warm and could lock up very tightly. I was bundled in my sleeping bag in a car that had the doors sealed tight. I had awoken from a sound I had heard outside. Namely the gunshots.
That was about 30 minutes ago. But 2 minutes previously I thought I had heard a familiar clicking. I inhaled and sure enough the stench of motor oil and salt water hit my nostrils, an odd odor that clickers emitted.
Suddenly the side of the car rattled as someone, or something, tried to open the door. It rattled a few more times before there was a bang that blasted the door into pieces.
The clicker regarded me, I don't actually know what the things look like, they're always wearing the same armor, rectangular slabs of metal. It raised a serrated blade and charged.
I stumbled backwards and my left hand fell into an open control panel full of wires I had to cut to disable the alarm systems on the cars. There was still electricity in those cables. I was expecting a massive pain, I'd maybe to blackout. What I wasn't expecting was for the energy to travel down my arm and then blast from my other hand straight into the clicker. Whatever metal that armor was apparently conducted electricity as the clicker shrieked, then collapsed into the ground, smoke pouring from in between the plates.
I looked at my hand, blue energy danced from my fingers, suddenly a loud howl broke the eerie silence, a howl that meant a clicker had heart the blast. The things were slow, I likely had 5 minutes. I had packed my bag and was about to go when I glanced at the dead clicker. Curiosity struck but I still needed to get away.
Do I: Run or Investigate the Body
Edit: continuing story.
I ran over to the thing, maybe finally a chance to see what they looked like, that metal was probably valuable as well. I looked all over the armor and finally found a small blue pad on the neck, I pressed it and with hissing steam the plates folded away revealing the front of the thing.
I understood now why they covered their faces. The skin was like tanned cow hide, it was covered in what looks like blisters. The eyes were dark and hollow. The worst part was the mandible jaw. Strangely if the mandible jaw was closed the creature might look human.
The howling got louder. I remembered I was on a schedule, I grabbed anything that looked useful. An odd device that looked like a flashlight with a grip and trigger, a few plates of armor, and the blade it had held. A blade that resembled a knife sized serrated Khopesh.
Now I had picked up a few tricks since this whole thing went down, one of which was that most clickers with the exception of a few that has been wearing red plates instead of black, seemed to be blind. A scientist I had met in the first week said the clicking was echolactation, wait that wasn't it... Oh who cares.
They relied on smell to distinguish each other and that armor still had the salty oil smell. I put the plates back into place, with a groan hoisted the dead clicker out, lay down in the armor and pressed the blue button.
The layers closed down and everything was dark, of course if these things things were blind a visor wasn't needed. The second thing I noticed was that there was still a LOT of electricity surging through the armor.
Now I'm no scientist but I'm fairly certain I should have been cooked alive. No time for that now. I tried to tear the helmet off and somehow succeeded. I sprinted out of there, the armor surprisingly light, snagging my pack under my arm as I ran.
7 years, and many incinerations, electrocutions, crushings, and drownings later the clickers finally retreated. Leaving behind only a strange gold box, oddly resembling an Egyptian coffin. Nobody could open it. I walked up to it and slid the blade I'd carried for seven years into a small slot in the box. It clicked and opened and I was staring at my own dead body...
Roger woke with a start. "Okay that's it, no more pizza before sleep." | Kevin listened to the Oracle while sitting on the cloth that covered the pile of rubble beneath it. He's heard the tale more times than he can count: on that fateful day, 25th December of the year 2017, fleets of starships darkened the sky, and leveled the human civilization.
The oracle spoke of times when humans were plenty, the time when people would gather in the weekends for drinks, the time when people fought amongst themselves over petty differences… They're all gone now. The aliens wiped them all out. All those years of hard work, all the things they have learned over time, the monuments they managed to build were all erased when the fleet arrived, and, according to the Oracle, “glassed the planet”. The oracle never spoke about how many were killed, perhaps even he doesn't know. He did however, spoke in detail as to the destruction of civilizations: How the tallest buildings erupted in flames, how the people simply turned to ash without even burning, how none managed to find out a way to deal with the aliens despite many of them spending thousands of hours practicing how to fight them…
The next part always dreads Kevin. The oracle would move close to him, ignite the candles in the hut with a motion of his hand, and tell Kevin it is his destiny to overthrow the aliens, before telling him to put out the candles without leaving his seat.
Kevin sat as still as he can. This is going to be another failure, another time he would disappoint the Oracle and his people… It's not like he doesn't have any idea on what the oracle wants him to do. Kevin knew the oracle meant for him to create a gust of wind with his mind, similar to how the Oracle lit the candles with his mind.
“Oracle…” Kevin said while lowering his head in shame, “you know I can't do it, I've been trying since the first time I was here. There's just nothing I can do...”
Kevin remained in his seat, concentrating on creating a wind to put out all the candles. He had been doing this dance every week since he was ten. And now, five years later, he still hasn't been able to accomplish this simple feat.
Kevin continued to think of the wind, a strong breeze came through the door, blowing out all the candles. Just as Kevin was wondering whether this meant success for him, the Oracle signaled him to hide under the rug he was sitting on, before doing so himself. Kevin knew the alien patrols are nearby. Unlike putting out the candles, hiding from aliens is never something he had trouble with. Although he is having a tingly feeling, something is not right.
And then he realized, none of them packed the candles. He pondered what he should do, as he heard the footsteps of three aliens jumping onto the ground. Each step they take, their greaves make a sound that warns everyone nearby of their presence. The message is clear -- be out of their sight, or be killed.
The footsteps growing ever closer. The aliens will search the area when they see the candles. Kevin thought of his next step. There are none. Had he been able to put out the candles earlier…
The scream of the Oracle pulled Kevin back to reality. As he peeked from a hole in his cover, he saw one of the aliens, in his shiny silver armor, holding the Oracle in the air. The other two were stand next to him, crossing their arms, probably enjoying the sight of their comrade killing an old man.
Kevin thought of what he should do: continue to hide, and let the aliens take his mentor? Or would he try to fight them, and die. The Oracle would never wanted him to throw his life away for anyone, that he knows. He is important to overthrowing the aliens. But what good would he be if he didn't save the man that taught him everything. What good would he be if he died here...
Another scream. Kevin two pieces of debris, got out of his cover, and hurled them at the aliens. The aliens stood steadfast, letting their armor deflect the rocks. Kevin picked up another one, threw it at them again, nothing. Another one, and another…
Until his arms grew tired and his couldn't pick up anymore rocks. The aliens looked at one another, as one of them produced a pistols from his holster, and began taking aim at Kevin…
*Why am I so useless*
Kevin thought to himself as he stared the alien in the eyes, prepared to die, he is useless anyway.
The alien squeezed the trigger, a blue bolt of energy launched at Kevin. He instinctively raised his hand at the bolt. Just as the bolt was about to hit him, he felt a warm wave of energy concentrate on his hand, flowing to his palm, and outward to the incoming projectile.
The bolt hit his hand, but it didn't hurt. And the feeling of warmth continued flowing through Kevin.
Kevin concentrated, looking at the aliens who are going to kill his friend. He let the energy wave concentrate on his hand again. Except this time the feeling is much more intense. He looked at the aliens one more time, and unleashed the wave of energy at them. He watched as his assailants come into contact with the wave of blue energy, and burned to ash in mere seconds.
Kevin rushes towards the Oracle and helped him get up. Together, they packed up their camp and headed home. | 2017-12-06T20:40:56 | 2017-12-06T20:39:17 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] The president finishes his inauguration, he is escorted to his office to start working on his agenda when he first meets with the previous secretary of defense. Before the secretary leaves the room the president says “no bullshit, tell me about the aliens.” | I give our new president a blank stare for just a second. I didn't vote for him and this is exactly why. The dude is completely off his rocker. The American people are so sick and tired of political bull that they've elected a complete nutcase. I have a feeling that four years from no none of us will ever complain about Trump or Biden again.
"The aliens, sir?" I ask in a flat tone of voice.
"The aliens! The Reptilians! The Greys! Hell even the Insectoids!"
I sigh. "Sir, with all due respect, Whitney Strieber writes fiction. You shouldn't believe it."
"Son, don't bullshit me. Give me the truth. What crashed in Roswell in the 50s?"
"An experimental weather balloon rigged with a camera. It was intended to fly over Mosc..."
"I SAID DON'T BULLSHIT ME!"
The President looks furious I take a deep breath.
"Ok. Here's the truth: We know they exist."
"See? That's wasn't so hard. Details.!
"Hold on. We know they exist because logically they have to. The universe is too big for them not to. And we suspect they're expanding at some significant fraction of the speed of light. We fully expect they will expand into this part of the universe somewhere around 500 million years from now. This is all from a 2021 study called "If Loud Aliens Explain Human Earliness, Quiet Aliens Are Also Rare" by Hanson, Martin, Mccarter, and Paulson. It's not classified. You can look it up on Google. And unlike sci-fi authors, they deal in facts." Yeah. I did my homework for this guy.
"But, and this is crucial Mr. President, we have NOT, and never within our lifetimes WILL, have contact with them."
He's turning different shades of purple now. I almost feel sorry for the guy. Almost. I turn and walk away from the idiot. Yeah, he's gonna replace me. Probably with some other nutcase from the far reaches of the internet. That's fine. They'll waste their time digging through classified documents for something that simply don't exist.
I know. I torched those documents myself. | “No bullshit?”
“No bullshit.”
“Okay… You need to sit down for this, Mr President.” The man pauses to lick his lips. “Are you well seated?”
“Stop wasting time and hit me!”
“Sigh… Fine. There was a war in space, fought by two or more species who are far, far more advanced than us. And every now and then, a stray bullet will hit our planet. The dinosaurs? They weren’t wiped out by a meteorite but by a rogue bomb. Same goes for the mammoths and human civilization during the ice age. Pyramids were built by our forefathers to serve as bomb shelters. That’s why they’re so massive and durable.”
“…Did it work?”
“Still here, aren’t we?”
“Thank god… But… But is this war still going on? Hasn’t it been millions of years since the dinosaurs went extinct?”
“Oh, the war ended a loooong time ago. We’re pretty certain that both species went extinct before planet Earth was even formed.”
“Then how—?”
“Space-time is wonky. Past, present, future works differently when we look at things from a galactic scale.”
“Okay…”
“Is that all, Mr President?”
“Yes, you may resume your duties”
After the Secretary of Defense leaves the oval office, the President quickly makes a phone call.
“Come on, pick up! Pick up!” The President blinks his lizard eyes In frustration. “Hello!? Okay, it’s you. Yes. Yes, I understand I shouldn’t make contact this soon, but… Oh, just shut up and listen to what I have to say! Good news and bad news. Goodnews, humans don’t know about us. The bad news… we gotta learn how to build pyramids real quick if our species is to survive on this planet.” | 2022-11-20T07:05:14 | 2022-11-20T03:23:13 | 121 | 62 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | It really sounds good on paper. Everyone gets a superpower. Oh, there are people with awesome powers. Eki Magnusson, the current president of the great and bountiful human empire has the gift of luck; whatever choice he makes will turn out for the best. Since he was eighteen, his ambition to find challenges pushed humanity centuries into the future within a decade. He was the first of us; he gave us the gifts, and since, humanity has become the center of the Milky Way's coalition of species.
Ten minutes until my eighteenth birthday, when my gift will come. I always wanted something flashy, like matter manipulation, where I could build skyscrapers with my mind. Or perhaps something interesting, like the aura readers, able to help those in need in just the way that can fix them in truth (and also, they know which girl is right for them at a glance, that's pretty sweet). The mathemagicians were kinda scary though, being one of them seems tough.
My best mate, Jerry, killed himself. It's rare, but it happens. He got telepathy, the poor sod. While very handy, and help greatly in things like assessing who would be a proper ambassador to which alien species, first contact missions, and so on... it's just. Well, he was always a gentle guy, and those are the type to suffer from telepathy most. It sucked. He'd be awesome with anything that could use creativity and intelligence, but sometimes people just get unlucky.
It's two minutes until it starts. My mom and dad are in the living room. They don't want to intrude, but they're waiting. They'll want to help me figure out what power I have. Dad's an empath, so he'll help me get through it, after all, he always helps his patients. Mom's invulnerable, so even if I freak out she'll be able to handle it... she took a vacation day for this. My big brother is an illusionist, far too rare a power, and he can't be home for this. All of my family has extremely rare powers, my uncle is the first person who could create gateways for instantaneous travel between locations. Maybe I'll be fabulously rich and famous like him.
Oh hey, it's a minute past. Nothing happened, so I suppose I'm safe. Time to bite the bullet and go see the parents.
I walked towards the living room, and looked at my dad. Instantly, I saw a vision of my mom, crying as she stabs him over and over. Then it was just him again. I ran away. What else could I do? My mom popped up on my left, and I saw her in a padded cell, age upon her, as she stopped breathing. Out of the house, just needed to get out.
People were walking in the street. I could see how each and every one of them died. One in a car accident. Two on operating tables. I shut my eyes, but the visions kept coming. I screamed. | There was a loud knock on my door and I woke up in a panic. “Mom said get downstairs it’s nearly time!” That was my younger sister. I looked at the clock. It read 12.00pm. I was due to receive my powers at eleven minutes past, as that’s when I was born.
I’ve been doing my best to ignore that it was happening. I always hated being the center of anyones attention. Birthdays were always a nightmare for me. Everyone looking at me with a big smile singing happy birthday while I stood there wishing I wasn’t and that they’d all stop looking at me. Still though, today was a different birthday.
I wonder if I’ll end up with something like my Dad, which is how fast he can move. The guy is seriously fast. He hasn’t driven a car since his eighteenth birthday because he can get wherever he wants faster by running. Mom, she’s got a pretty cool power too I guess, she has some kinetic abilities. Although she was never great at using it. The most she could do was close a door from across the room, every time she tried to move something heavier it fell or broke. I’ve lost count of the amount of times she's dropped a full pot of coffee in the house. I think I’d much rather have Dads than Moms in that case.
I went downstairs to the kitchen and not only was my immediate family there, but everyone. Great. And I’m in my fucking spiderman pyjamas, who has amazing powers, maybe I’ll end with something like his. That would be unreal. Wish I knew what determined what you’ll end up with. “Almost time!” said my Dad with a huge smile stretched across his face. I think he’s more excited than I am. I wish you would all stop looking at me like that. Maybe I won’t get any powers anyway. I might be that guy.
The clock hit eleven minutes past and everyones eyes widened is shock. I started to panic. And I mean really fucking panic. What are they looking at? What happened? “What is it?” I said to them. Nobody answered me. “What the fuck is it?!” I ran over to the mirror on the other side of the room and I knocked over my little sister in the process as she didn’t get out of my way.
Looking in the mirror, there was nothing looking back. Only my family looking at my sister getting up from the floor and then looking around the room.
EDIT; a word. | 2015-03-28T06:27:10 | 2015-03-28T06:04:58 | 70 | 12 |
[WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work?
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | I ordered a shot of whiskey,
A slippery nipple and then
I downed six bottles of bud light
And two whiskey sours and gin.
My head is swimming round and round.
My heart is all aflame.
I wonder if my ex is awake I think I'll call him again.
Oh Fuck yeah this is my tune.
Get up!
Let's dance and shout!
This is my jam, my favorite song.
I've got this groove all figured out.
Sweet child o mine, meatloaf, Eminem, and Rhianna.
I'll jump on this table, grab my hand if you wanna.
Oh no the tender is angry,
He is booting me out the door!
It's 2am he explains, its cut off time, no more!
So I walk down the road , lose my keys, and vomit on my shirt. I trip and fall asleep, face first in the dirt.
Here I lie comforted by the cool night air, farting like a sow, but why oh why must I be there?
Because I'm problydrunkrightnow.
| I'm all moved in. The office is fully furnished, degrees and certifications well hung on the wall. It's been more than a week now though and I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't a little concerned. No one has shown up and the phone is silent - apart from the occasional, wildly inappropriate prank call.
I guess some people are hard. Some people take more time to come. After all, this is a highly specialized client I'm looking for: someone that needs a fully certified Analysist AND Therapist.
Well, once word gets out I'll have to beat off the crowds with my bare hands. They'll even be trying to come in my backdoor. Such is the life of the world's first Analrapist. | 2016-02-22T11:35:38 | 2016-02-22T09:31:34 | 74 | 15 |
[WP] “I spy with my little eye, something beginning with D,” you say to your 4-year-old. “Demon.” “It has to be something you see.” Without a hint of fear, your child points behind you. "Demon," s/he insists. | Samuel laughed at his pig-tailed daughter, pushing up his glasses, "Well, I suppose theoretically... there could hypothetically be a demon or an angel anywhere, but you certainly would not be able to 'see' one, seeing is when we are able to-" "No, but really!" his daughter insisted, interrupting the beginnings of her father's academic treatise on vision. In a moment of unreasonable curiosity, he turned around and turned a shade of white that he would've considered 'quite improbable', if it hadn't suddenly become the tone of his normally caramel skin. Immediately, he pulled his daughter behind him, instinctively protecting her from whatever this *thing* was. This thing, with its red eyes and massive horns, that stood on two goat-like legs but had a man's torso.
"Who the hell are you? *What* the hell are you?" Samuel interrogated the demon, who laughed in a disturbing, unnatural way, a sound that vaguely reminded Samuel of a yowling cat. The demon grinned, revealing sharpened teeth.
"Behemoth - pleasure to make your acquaintance, mortal minion of the summoner witch." His voice had an odd quality, as if half the sounds were missing, being made at a frequency that Samuel simply could not hear. "W-witch?" he asked, confused.
"The summoner witch," Behemoth told him, gesturing a clawed hand toward his daughter. "She summoned me and bound me into her service. A most cunning witch," the demon said with obvious admiration.
A baffled Samuel turned toward his daughter, trying to figure out a universe in which this made sense to a rational man like him. His daughter, however, exhibited no such problem. She laughed playfully and escaped her father, skipping over right up the demon and grinning, "Come on, Behemy - we have a tea party to attend!" she announced sternly. The massive demon nodded his head and smiled indulgently, "It will be my pleasure, mistress." | “Sweetheart, what have we said about talking like this when we’re outside?” She shrugs. The gesture is completely unnatural. “What did we say?” She folds her arms and pouts and suddenly she’s a perfectly normal four year old and even if there is an incoming tantrum I don’t really care. “What did mummy say about trying to scare people?”
“Not allowed.” All the focus is gone from her eyes and I feel kind of stupid.
“Alright, I spy with my little eye, something the colour red!” Oh crap. That was definitely the wrong thing to say.
“Hellfire. I will consume us all.” Yeah, that one was my fault. Idiot.
“Does the fire seem real to you?” She glares at me, not a toddler glare, a proper deadly glare. And then - oh god - the hellfire is very real. The burning is almost unbearable and yet I can’t scream and then it suddenly stops. I’ve never been more pleased to see a museum in my life. And she’s smiling. I’m suddenly struck by a very non-maternal urge to grab the nearest rock and smash her head in.
“Now you’ve felt the fire you won’t patronise me.”
“You are too young to be using words like patronise.”
“No I’m not.”
“I hate you.”
“But you won’t leave my side.” As soon as I think of a comeback she’s gone, and I can see my daughter again.
“Cookie?” | 2021-02-17T01:17:58 | 2021-02-17T00:28:18 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] When aliens invaded earth, they expected humanity to reach for nuclear weapons. They had experience in this, they knew how to deal with a few warheads. What they were not prepared for was the quantity possessed by humanity. | "Attention Earth. We are the Skonshor, and we offer death or slavery."
Admiral Gerd, Commander of the Fifth Skonshor Battlefleet, was amused by the replies he received.
"Cute". Somehow it was always the Level 5 species who wanted to fight and went straight to nuclear threats. No-one ever wanted to surrender when the Skonshor fleet arrived in orbit and started dictating terms. Well, except the Fnarl, of course. They had surrendered immediately and had become a subserviant species serving as a carnal adjunct to the Skonshors. But all other species needed a lesson first, just like the Earthians were about to receive. They'd become pretty reasonable and amenable to surrender in just a few minutes, when their defences had been shattered and their pride in their military ability had been broken.
"Scan the planet for nuclear weapons, prepare to engage and destroy them". His Skonshor bridge crew leapt into action, as did their Fnarl pets. Each Skonshor was permitted to bring two personal Fnarl on board. They were used primarily to sate mating desires, but also received rudimentary training so theey could assist their masters in their duties. Gerd of course had an entire harem for his own personal use, and all of the dirty or dangerous engineering tasks were performed by Fnarl. It hadn't been like that when Gerd had been a cadet, of course. Things were different then. That had been before the Fnarl submission, and he and his cadet mates had taken pride in taking on dangerous tasks and vied with each other in completing them. Gerd had finished First Cadet and this had helped structure the trajectory of his career. The academies weren't the same these days, Fnarl were everywhere, it seemed. Still his crew may not be as tough and Skonshor-like as he and his class-mates had been, but he was proud of them all the same. Ready to fight, willing to kill. That is the Skonshor way.
"There is something wrong with the scanners, my Lord" reported Major Kerd. "It is reporting thousands of nuclear weapons, and that can't be right."
Gerd shot Kerd a stern look, but inside he smiled to himself. Now I'll show you why I am in charge, why I am the best, why I command! Once the Earthian surrender had been processed, he could look forward to promotion to Ferd, or maybe even Eerd! It had happened before, and Gerd was sure the subjugation efforts of his Fifth Battlefleet had not gone un-noticed on Skonshor iteself.
"Zoom in on one nuclear weapon, and let's take a look", Gerd used the intonations of masterful yet benevolent instruction. A large 3-D image appeared in the bridge, and Kerd zoomed down into one nuclear weapon. "Look my Lord, the sensors indicate this is just one of many in a large field of silos". It was true, something was evidently interfering with the sensors. They seemed to show that the nuclear weapon they were looking at was just one of - wait a minute - "Zoom in further" commanded Gerd, his voice now using the inflections of grim command. The image changed as the nuclear weapon seems to grow and expand as Kerd zoomed in. And there, impossibly, were eight individual nuclear warheads inside the weapon.
"How many like these have the sensors found?"
"Over twelve thousand, my Lord".
Merciful Aerd that couldn't be possible. That would be enough to destroy the eighteen Skonshor Homeworlds utterly. He turned to Kerd's Fnarl, "Scan the planet's crust for uranium deposits!"
Uranium, that most elusive of elements. So rare that even the Fifth Battlefleet carried only seventeen nuclear devices to augment their particle beam weaponry. Thousands of nuclear devices would require colossal amounts of raw uranium ore, to be patiently sifted in the turbulence of the heavy water carousels. It simply wasn't possible. Was it?
The Fnarl at the scanner stood rigid as a board and emitted a keening sound that Fnarls squeaked out when they were excited or disturbed. Gerd jumped up from his Admiral's Throne and pushed the Fnarl aside and took over the scanner himself. By Aerd and Berd, the crust of this planet had multiple desposits that were huge, spread out over wide areas. Holy Aerd. He was in orbit around the single richest uranium deposit in the known universe! Gerd could taste that promotion, he could hear the cheers, he know what to do.
He broadcast to the entire battlefleet. "Skonshors, hear me! I am Gerd and I command! This planet has the richest uranium deposits ever discovered. We shall conquer and become rich beyond our wildest dreams. We shall - the words in his throat seemed to gag on the large dagger which had been stuck into his chest by Kerd's Fnarl. The Fnarl leaned closer and shouted "Order Ninety Nine!". Every ship in the fleet heard it, and the Fnarls in each ship acted immediately, attacking their Skonshor masters with daggers and wrenches and tooth and claw. Shortly after, the newly Fnarl ships started to report in one by one. In some ships the Fnarl attack failed, and they had to be obliterated by the concentrated fire of the other ships. Within twenty minutes, the fleet in orbit about Earth was entirely Fnarl.
The Fnarl had been long waiting for this, the opportunity to destroy the Skonshor hegemony. The Fnarl had understood the Skonshor nature right from the start, and had bet the farm on surrender and compliance. They had waited for a full generation to find a species that had the capacity to fight and defeat the Skonshors - once they had been given a crash course in modern physics and super-luminal travel by the Fnarl. And lo, here was a species with not one hundred warheads, or even two hundred, but thousands of them!
"Attention Earth. We are the Fnarl, and we offer an alliance." | General Zlaxxhun, known by his sobriquet ‘General Z’, was the most decorated and successful of our Empire’s Expeditionary force. Their only ‘expedition’ was the conquest of planets with the natural resources the homeworld consumed with an unending appetite.
This story beings when I become his diplomatic aide. The Ministry of Exo-Planetary Affairs assigned me to his side after 5 years of working the Treaty of Lonhes ‘Demah.
My friends told me it would be a breeze! General Z did things his way and that way had ended in brilliant victory and complete control over the resources our forces desired. Then we arrived at Xanlosk 14, the planet the inhabitants called “Earth”.
General Z changed his staff for every incursion. Every mission meant he wanted different perspectives and experts. Many in the command room were relatively new to the Expeditionary force and for almost all of us, this was our first incursion - let alone our first mission with a legendary leader like Z.
We had analyzed all our long-range telemetry for weeks and months on end. The information was limited at range, but we could extrapolate a lot based on our wealth of knowledge expanding the Empire for millennia. How fragmented were the nations of the planet? How was their defensive capability? What weapons did they have that could hurt us? How much of the resources did they have that we needed.. no, that we deserved!
My team was in charge of ‘superweapons’. The weapons that the planet had that they felt were strongest. Based on our intelligence, this was the ‘nuclear warhead’. A single nuclear warhead was capable of destroying 1% of the planet. Earth, like many developing planets, were still squabbling amongst themselves like children. So, we calculated that the most powerful nations would maintain a stockpile as a deterrent. General Z wanted an estimate of just how many and considering it would take 100 to destroy the planet and nations were only targeting rival nations. We estimated we could safely pin this number at approximately 75. 75 nuclear warheads.
....
At last, the communications device flashed, and an incoming message was on my screen. I took a few moments to read it closely and stood to deliver the news to everyone in the command center aboard the flagship, Farfoush Four.
"General, the Earth Council has delivered their response" I announced as neutral as I could my voice. “They have declined our offer and have communicated that no further negotiations will be necessary based on the last offer. They have asked us to leave or risk confrontation”
“Prepare landing craft and strike force 1. Execute Plan A” General Z commanded then paused and laughed, looked around the room to spread his joy to every set of eyes that seemed fixed on him. “Time to show these backwater aliens what we are made of,” his smile and his energy was infectious and soon many were sharing in his mirth. A sense of pride and confidence flowed through the room and even I was caught up in it despite my all my training.
Through the buzz of excitement an uncharacteristically nervous voice rose, “Sir, they are launching weapons… nuclear weapons at the fleet. ETA 2 hours” The signals officer reported. He had to repeat the report three times before it was heard and comprehended. “Sir, they have launched… 36 nuclear projectiles at our fleet. ETA 2 hours”
The General and I shared a look of apprehension. This would not be the first time a planet tried to overwhelm incursion forces with an opening salvo that expended most of their defensive power, but this seemed different. Before we could complete the thought, another panicked voice cut in, “Sir, an additional 29 projectiles have been launched… 3 towards us and the rest towards targets ON the planet.”
The General was taken aback “On the planet?! They are attacking one another? Are you sure?!”
“Yes, Sir. Trajectories are all terrestrial according to scans” the officer reported.
“Officer, scan for nuclear devices on the planet” the General said slowly as if something was dawning on him that he did not want to comprehend.
“Sir..” the officer’s voice broke then he collected himself, looking up from his monitor to meet the General’s questioning eye. “Sir, there are fourteen thousand devices. Repeat, one four zero zero zero.”
The room went so silent, you could have heard a loshkish slickbat.
The General took a moment to digest that number before he started drecting his questions at the various department teams. “Scanning, how many are pointed at the fleet and how many are pointed at targets on the planet? Weapons, how many are incoming now? Defenses, how many will our radiation shields take safely?”
Somehow the furious sounds of each of these lead officers and their aides was a relief. The silence was broken before the answers came in. “Sir, shields can take 50 warheads max over 5 rotations of the sun” “General, there are now 250 warheads pointed at the fleet, the rest remain fixed on terrestrial targets.” “Sir, we only have the original 39 projectiles incoming.. Sir, beg to report that terrestrial launches has just gone over 275… no, 293… 312 warheads.”
“They are destroying themselves?” General Z’s eye was wide with surprise. He took only a moment to comprehend what we were witnessing. “All stations, recall incursion force. Prepare to return to Base Elath Seven.” Pausing and then giving me a thin strained smile “Diplomatic officer, please inform the Earth Council or what remains of it that we are no longer interested in extracting carbon from their atmosphere.” | 2022-11-10T10:55:46 | 2022-11-10T08:17:43 | 539 | 154 |
[WP] Write a story about something you don't understand. Do NO research. Make everything up as you go.
**Possible subjects:**
*Fly-Fishing
*Open-Heart Surgery
*Supply-Management in the Canadian Dairy Industry
*Making Hollywood Movies
*Guidance Counselling for High School Students
*Storm Chasing
*Electrical Repair in High-Rise Buildings
*The Large Hadron Collider
*Love
EDIT: Oh God, what have I done? | She reached into her bag and pulled out her white pad things, not the sort of white pad thingy that had wings but the other one that was small cylinder and had string attached to it for some probable reason. She was in the women's toilet of a dingy local bar and like all women's toilets was outstanding in its size and beauty...probably. The fountain as the centerpiece was a shimmering monolithic structure and the harp player in the corner had settled into her stride and played delicately. She hated this time of month and the certain set of days which was greater than one but not more than seven for which she was on her period. She had started getting stomach cramps earlier on in the day which were probably similar to getting kicked in the balls but also different in every possible way. She inserted the period equipment in the correct manner, be it, string first or cylinder first and then urinated or didn't urinate depending on whether it would be bad to get the stringed equipment wet maybe. She lifted up the skimpy lingerie she had on, similar to the kind that all women wear for any occasion ever, pulled up her skirt or zipped it up depending on whether skirts have zips, which they probably do somewhere unless they are elastic but that's highly doubtful and strode out of the bathroom wearing the stilletto heels that women wear at all times that never cause them pain at all.
She marched past a round table meeting of women currently discussing david and his cute butt which is a thing women talk about in the toilets. She walked passed the harp player who had taken some time off to file her nails. She stopped at the mirror and stared herself down. She looked at her naturally flawless skin with slight increased in reddening at the cheeks which is completely normal and a thing that all women have naturally. She decided she needed to put more of the eye makeup on. Not the kind that was to make your eyelashes longer but the kind that makes your eyelids darker because that's sexy for some reason. She decided that now she sorted our her eye makeup she needed to sort out her mouth make up and put on her bright red lipstick, not the cheap kind that you can buy everywhere but the inexplicably expensive kind that women get pissed off at you for wasting on drawing penis's on Pete's body while he's wasted. She looked herself in the eye and said "you can do this" and walked out of the bathroom completely intending to have private relations with the man who previously said that she had a nice pair and then looked at the ground when she turned her gaze towards him. | According to all laws regarding aerodynamics, a bee should not be able to fly. Their wings are too small. Their rumps to... Err... rumpish. But that does not stop the mighty bee. Try as nature might, it cannot stop the bee.
You see, every bee is born with a small jetpack, right in between their wings, and is only visible in complete darkness. So to us humans, or, 'umies, as the bees affectionately refer to us as, we are not capable of seeing these joys of modern ~~flight~~ nature.
But that's not all the bee has up it's sleevies. Seriously, they have sweaters on, and thats what give them their 1940's Green Bay Packers look. Because before the 1940's, bees wore a drab coat of wool, sulfur, and aluminium, so as to protect against predators. What's even more stupifying, is that the Queen must knit and knot all these, every day, forever. Because Queens don't die, no, they are just reborn.
But enough deviation, because the bee has one final trick to fool predators. Honey. That's right, Honey. The most delicious thing ever known to man, and animal, is there ultimate weapon. For inside every morsel of Honey, is a small Colony of Photoreceptors. That's why whenever a Bee gets inside a house or car, it never seems to get out, because the Bee is secretly hunting for those photoreceptors, so it can take control of it's new host. For Bees shall rise again as the dominant race on Earth once again.
No hardship will stop them. No trial will end them. For they must fly, No, they NEED to fly. Coupled with an insatiable bloodlust, and a need for freedom, tiny jetpacks, sweaters, and photoreceptors, the Bee will never stop. That, is why the Bee can fly, against all odds.
(Seriously, How the fuck do Bee's work, I'm a grown man and still have no idea) | 2016-02-01T22:32:48 | 2016-02-01T22:09:55 | 507 | 40 |
[WP] After a Pyrrhic battle defending their homeworld, the defenders detect another fleet. It's the Humans, and they're sending in the hospital and engineering fleets. | Of over 1000 ships that stood by in defence of Acvia, less then 200 returned. Most bore significant battle damage, leaking atmosphere into the void of space. Some were barely held together, others had lost most of their crew. It was a sobering sight.
The Acvians were joyful, but even that rang hollow. With so many ships destroyed, it was only a matter of time before the aggressive Vadrile returned to finish them. The defenders were hailed as heros, an attempt to improve the world's morale.
A warning sounded from the Subspace Monitoring Station as the ships pulled into orbit. Another fleet approached, much larger then the force they had barely fought off. They moaned, knowing that they couldn't stop this new fleet. But still, the barely functional ships turned in defence.
The Subspace ruptured, spitting forth this new fleet. Hundreds of gleaming vessels, much larger then the Acvians ships, appeared. The first images sent back showed a few painted white, with red crosses. Others were painted grey, adorned with what appeared to be crossed tools of green. A few of the grey ships were enormous, sporting immense doors that were far larger then appeared necessary. Surronding them were colossal ships of black.
Half peeled off, heading to the remains of the fight. Of the others, their lead ship deployed a tiny shuttle. It flew into communications range, and broadcasted an open signal. As it loaded up, the Monitors saw a strange, dark-skinned person, with 2 large arms and a small head. It spoke with calm assurance.
"Hail Acvia. I am General Kolin, of the Human Mercy Fleet. We received your request for aid, and offer our services. We have medical and engineering vessels available."
The Head Monitor rushed to set up a responding signal. She rarely used her authority over the Council. However, there was no time to wait. As the link established, she groomed her feathers, and straightened her coveralls. Satisfied she looked presentable, she spoke as the link finally connected.
"Greetings General Kolin. I am Head Monitor Glerth, of the Acvian Council. With my authority as Defence Chief, I accept your assistance. To all ships of the Acvian Fleet. Allow the Humans access."
"Thank you, Head Monitor."
The link faded, and Gleeth sat, scratching her wings with her one central arm. She had heard of the Human Mercy Fleet before. They were one of the few good races, despite their self admitted turbulent past. They offered aid, and took little payment in return, save for a supply restock if possible.
Their ships drew close, and began to split apart. Their black ships linked with the few fully operational Acvian ships, forming a more potent defensive barrier. The white and grey ships headed for clusters of damaged ships. As they did, smaller shuttles were launched of the same colour scheme.
The gargantuan grey ships stopped short, not launching any smaller ships. Instead, their doors opened to reveal piles of raw materials. These mobile supply depots remained in an optimal location, allowing for the smaller grey vessels to easily access the materials they needed.
The outlook of the Acvians changed again. The spark of hope rekindled in them, as humanity's selflessness proved they weren't alone. Whilst the threat of attack still loomed, they knew they could relax a little.
They wouldn't be left to die. | "\~Report unknown fleet, this is Kithlam Homeworld actual, identify yourself or we will fire our Surface to Space Guns upon you.\~"
Hierarch Chevalus sweated quietly within his command bunker as the unknown fleet barreled ever closer to Kithlam; for Seven Turnings of the Three Moons, Kithlam itself had been under siege by the Harats, vermin who sought only to expand by destroying other civilizations and stealing their worlds. It had only been by the stroke of the luck that the Harats had been turned away, but the price to pay had been severe. Much of Kithlam had been devastated, and though many of it's inhabitants had survived, they had no homes or supplies.
Many would die with the coming of the Eighth Turning.
And even worse, there was an unknown alien fleet barreling down upon the planet. Kithlam had barely survived the Harats, it could not survive another invasion.
"\~This is the FSS Enterprise, leading the 12th Expeditionary Fleet. We Humans of the Federation of Sol greet you, Kithlam Homeworld actual, and are requesting permission to land upon Kithlam.\~"
Chevalus breathed out a sigh of relief. The humans were not well known within this region of space, but any species was better then the damned Harats.
"Hierarch? Your orders?"
"Ask them for their intentions on being in our region of space."
Of course, better to be cautious, the Federation could be attempting to prey upon a weakened animal; and if they were, they would find this animal still had some fight in them.
"\~FSS Enterprise, this is Kithlam Homeworld actual. What business do you intend on doing upon Kithlam?\~"
Silence, perhaps this 12th Fleet was actually intending to invade them? Static broke through the silence.
"\~Kithlam Homeworld Actual, the 12th Expeditionary Fleet is composed mainly of transports. We have onboard several Medical and Engineering Corp units, ready to assist in humanitarian efforts on Kithlam.\~"
"Let them though."
The staff within the command bunker could only stare at Chevalus, at first unable to comprehend that he was breaking the promises of several past Hierarchs.
"Hierarch, are you sure this is wise? It is tradition to not allow any alien life to touch Kithlam without paying in blood."
"TRADITION BE DAMNED!" Chevalus slammed his desk as he yelled, "MY PEOPLE ARE DYING! I SAID LET THEM THROUGH!"
"Very well, Hierarch."
"\~FSS Enterprise, this is Kithlam Homeworld actual. The 12th Expeditionary Fleet has been granted permission to land upon Kithlam.\~"
Chevalus laid back against his chair. For Seven Turnings of the Three Moons, millions upon Kithlam had died, and he was ready to accept that millions more would perish in the coming Turnings; but with the help of these Humans, perhaps he could save those millions. | 2021-01-30T11:31:38 | 2021-01-30T11:08:37 | 329 | 124 |
[WP] You chant "Bloody Mary" three times in your car's side view mirror and then hit the gas laughing all the while as she sprints towards your car desperately trying to keep up.
Edit: Optional inclusion, it's the eighth time you done this. |
Someone was calling my name.
This was something that used to happen frequently but recently, I had more time to just sit down and relax. I spent some time reading some books, Catcher in Rye by J.D. Salinger was a good read, I watched some television shows, Hollywoo Stars and Celebrities: What do They Know? Do They Know Things? Let’s Find Out! by J.D. Salinger was also quite entertaining.
Someone called my name again.
After a while, I grew tired of the overwhelming amount of time I had on my hands. So many things that I wish I could talk about with another human but they no longer called for me. I sat in that dark, hellish room in silence and just slept. I found myself reminiscing all those times that I was brought over to their world; all would scream bloody murder and flee, others would faint as soon as I appeared.
Someone called my name and I saw them in a car a few meters away from me. The sinful man drove faster and faster and I had to run to keep up. He was looking at me through the mirrors and I could hear his maniacal laughter as he whipped out his phone to capture his triumph forever. I kept chasing and chasing, my only way home is through that mirror, I felt the need to take his soul with me as well; for hours I chased him until he ran out of gas.
He called out my name one last time.
| I watch her in the rear view mirror. The look of anger and frustration. It's so much fun to watch her...
Pedestrian. I swerve. Too late. The body hits my bonnet. It's her.
Bloody Mary.
She's now perched on my bonnet smiling, clawing at my windscreen.
How did she get in front of me? I can't stop myself glancing back to see if.... She is still behind me. I look forward again.
No Mary.
Tree.
The car stops moving forward but I don't. I hit the dash hard. I feel like I'm looking down a tunnel and the entire world's throbing. I'm on the edge of passing out, and I want to embrace that. To make this all go away.
Then a hand touches my shoulder and a voice cackles: "Always keep you eyes on the road ahead..." | 2018-10-01T13:18:21 | 2018-10-01T13:14:18 | 120 | 69 |
[WP]The story of someone dying and realizing their religion was not true. | This is bollocks you know.
**THATS NO WAY TO SPEAK TO A GOD**
Not my bloody god mate, I followed ...
**YOU CHOSE INCORRECTLY**
Oh come on, just let me in. My mate Bob was a ... whatsit.
**HOMOSEXUAL?**
No ... wait, what? He was gay? But he'd been going out with Crystal for years.
**ITS ALL JUST A COVER UP, HE WAS CONCERNED WITH HOW PEOPLE WOULD REACT**
.... s'fucking 2016 mate. No one cares. Also, should you be telling me that? Seems sort of personal.
**AND WHO ARE YOU GOING TO TELL?**
Ah, good point. So ... now what?
**WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE? I CAN'T LET YOU IN, BUT IT DOESN'T MEAN OPTIONS ARE CUT OFF**
Well, what's the options.
**OBLIVION, SUFFERING, OR REBIRTH**
Many folks go with oblivion?
**MORE THAN YOU WOULD EXPECT**
Same with suffering?
**NO, MOST PEOPLE DON'T. GET THE FEW ODD ONE OR TWO NOW AND THEM. BUT I THINK THEY MAY BE SADOMASOCHISTIC**
I'll take the rebirth then, if thats okay?
**VERY WELL, PLEASE JOIN THE QUEUE**
Queue? Oh bugger that, give me the oblivion. | I believe I have been a good man. I tried to follow his example. Sometimes I failed but I always had good intentions. I loved one woman and one God. I tried to resist temptation and petty jealousies.
As the cancer ate away at my body I became more devout and more dependant on **his** teachings. I explained to my family that there was no need to worry and that I would see them again soon. They still cried but there was, of course, no need.
"I am ready father."
"You shall be by **his** side in heaven. St Peter is waiting at the gates. Fear not for you will be loved and blessed for eternity. You have been loved but soon you will know *love*. God bless you my son.
"I am ready."
The last whisper of life sputters out of my body.
Only darkness, then...
*nothing* | 2016-04-11T10:58:32 | 2016-04-11T09:43:34 | 76 | 23 |
[WP] Due to a technicality, a patient was brought to Valhalla because he died while battling cancer. | My family are happy that I’m dead. For the last 3 years as this cancer are away at me I lost more and more of myself. Just like with my own mum, they had to watch their dad turn into a facsimile of a person. I tried my hardest to hold on. Every day I did everything for myself. Until I could no longer walk. The goddamn cancer took everything from me.
Then the chemotherapy started. Radiation poured into every cell of my body. Like napalm on a dry forest. I used to run marathons, by the second round I was wheelchair bound.
When I saw the fear in my grandson’s eyes, as his pops had leathery skin, my once vibrant eyes were glassy and the hair I had maintained for so long was dead, I knew that it was only a matter of time.
The first trip hospital scare, I was determined to get out again. I was told that it was still 50/50, in my heart I knew every day lived was a small victory. I was so terrified of sleeping incase I never woke, that I developed insomnia. It was stupid and my wife bless her told me as such.
The second trip to the hospital scare, it was the same hospital mum had been in. There was no fucking way I was dying there. So somehow I got out. The doctors thought I might be in remission. They were wrong. That escape from mums tomb was the last good day.
So here I am. The war is over. The people I fought for, stand around me, holding back tears. As I try to think of words to go out on. I turn to my favourite grandchild m, I know I shouldn’t have favourites but I’m dying, sue my corpse.
“John, you were named after the best President this country had, he got us to the moon. Use your brain and outclass him. For me.” I gave him a final hug and gave my daughter the look. She took her kids outside. Now it was my wife and daughter. They held my hands and said goodbye. I closed my eyes and...
I woke up in a great hall. Surrounded by vikings, soldiers knights and somehow I knew it but I don’t know how, Gods. A man turned to me and said “welcome to Valhalla good sir. Tell me, what for ended you”
“I think there has been a mistake, I didn’t die in battle.”
“How did you die?”
“To -to cancer.”
“There is no mightier a foe, no more courageous a battlefield and no greater a hero than one who battled cancer. Her hold this.”
The man passed me his hammer.
“Is this... are you...” I held the hammer aloft, it was pretty light.
“Do you still believe you are not worthy of these halls. Come now, we drink, FOR THE DEAD, FOR THE MIGHTY, FOR THE WORTHY.”
I passed him back his hammer and realised that I was the me that had ran marathons again. The me that died, the me before the battle. Just as all the men and women around me were how they were just before their own final battles. | I rolled over and looked around confused...
This wasn't my hospital bed and as far as I could tell I wasn't even in New York City anymore.
Looming skyscrapers that I could always see from my window had disappeared replaced with hills and a mountain off in the distance.
A quick look around my room showed little this from my old room, a book and a few pictures sat on a bedside table, but also a small rock with some type off strange symbol in the shape of a "P" almost.
I got up and heaved a sigh and decided to go outside. I opened my door and was greeted by a huge man with a billowing beard. He told me to follow him to the great hall and hold my questions to the end of orientation.
As we walked though the halls I noticed that whoever was in charge of decoration loved wolves. Wolf lining, wolf door knockers, and even wolves in the carpet. Walking around a corner reveled a massive painting with an army of wolves fighting an army of skeletons.
"This is it," the man said "welcome to the great hall." He puched a set of double doors open and punched me into a massive room. "Take a seat over there," he said pointing to a nearby table, "a Valkyrie will be here to help you in a second." Nervously I took a seat beside a fellow teen who looked like he could crack a bolder in half if he wanted to. I decided to just stare at the table. Wolves were carved into the table because of corse they were.
"Come with me," said a voice over my shoulder and I turn to find a teen girl dressed in full battle armor. "Well what are you waiting for?" and she started walking away. As I hurried after she promptly stop turned and said that I should wait here for my fate to be sealed. "My fate," I asked. "Well of course," was her reply.
"Sorry but I dont think you understand," I said, "Yeterday I woke up with stage 4 cancer and didnt believe I'd live a week, now here I am and I have no idea where here is and I would like to know what's going on."
"That's fair enough," she said "welcome to Valhalla, where warriors come after they die in battle selflesaly and bravely, now please have a seat as we're confused as to how you got here."
Aftera short wait the guy who brought me to the hall came out of a door walked up to the valkyrie and whispered in her ear. She turned to me and I'll never forget what she said, "Nevermind there was no mistake as you died bravely fighting a vicious disease, congratulations and welcome to Valhalla." | 2020-01-26T13:28:55 | 2020-01-26T12:57:28 | 25 | 13 |
[WP] You lost your sight - along with everyone else on Earth - in The Great Blinding. Two years later, without warning, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor and surface has been painted with the same message - Don't Tell Them You Can See. | When The Blinding first occurred, I thought I was the only individual affected. I was sitting at my desk working on a school paper and in an instant, everything went black.
I had cried out to my parents in fear and confusion, but their response was like an echo of my own. They, too, couldn't see. And we soon learned the entire world had been victim to having their sight filled with darkness. Interestingly enough, we don't think this affected any of the animals living on Earth. Just us humans. The only strange thing that occurred after this was the fact that the demand for Milk skyrocketed.
At first, adapting was extremely difficult. Something as mundane and simple as using the bathroom had become a daily challenge I didn't look forward to.
Within a few months, support groups had been created by individuals who were already blind prior to the incident. They assisted those who were struggling with adapting to their newfound obstacle.
Thankfully, the world never really stopped moving or progressing. Outside of major adjustments that had to be made, such as devising a different mode of transportation or different requirements and standards in the working world, we managed to pull through.
It's been about 2 years since The Blinding and there were times where I had forgotten such an event occured.
I was taking a short walk to the store to get some groceries. I don't know why, but I've developed an almost dependency like state on milk. I had gripped the handle to the door to the small grocery store and pushed the door open. A bell was hung on the inside handle of the door.
"Hello, let me know if you need help finding anything." A voice said to my right.
"Thanks, Dave. I will." I responded.
"Hey John! How've you been?" he asked with a somewhat enthusiastic tone.
With a somewhat slow pace I walked around the store, feeling along the brail to determine if I had found my item.
"Pretty much the same" I said with a bit of a chuckle.
My hand touched something cold. Finally. Found the milk.
As I was about to open the door I could see my reflection in the rectangle shaped window of the cooler.
I wasn't entirely sure how to react nor was I sure as to what happened. I was looking. At myself. In a mirror. For the first time in two years.
I started shaking and I could feel warmth and moisture filling my eyes.
I noticed writing on the reflection itself. I was so excited I hadn't even noticed. In fact, most of the interior was covered in this writing. Looked a little closed at the message written in black.
*Don't tell them you can see.*
What the hell does that mean? Who's them?
I then caught a glimpse of the individual standing behind the counter of the store.
Who...what the fuck is that...
"John? You need some help buddy?" it asked. It had Dave's voice, but it definitely wasn't Dave. And the way it's mouth moved was...
Wait, is that it's mouth? I have no idea.
I was staring at something that was at least 6 feet tall. Grotesque and eldritch was the only way I could describe it. It's dark brown skin was smooth and moist with extremely tiny openings in its skin. It wasn't wearing any type of clothing. It's arms were somewhat long and thin looking appendages that ended in human looking hands. Its head was shaped like a large Basket Ball. The creatures mouth looked to be in a vertical position and when it spoke I could see many layers and rows of crocodile like teeth.
"Here John, let me come help." It said. Its voice had changed as well. It was gurgled and sounded like it was being put through a filter.
As it moved I could hear it squish against the floor. That's the first time I've ever heard that. Why am I hearing that just now? Why have I never heard that before?
Instead of gaping at the reflection and trying to ascertain how it walks, I simply stared at a jug of milk.
That's when I noticed the color of the milk. It wasn't white or brown or any color a milk should be. It was dark black.
As the creature grew closer a foul smell harassed my nostrils. It took everything I had not to vomit.
It reached out with it's human like appendage and touched my shoulder.
My entire body tensed up.
"We're having a lot of different specials on milk today." It said and I could see its mouth open wide behind my head with what I assumed was a smile. | I walk along the street. It's a normal night like any other. Nothing special until I see the sun rise. Something was different the light was too bright. Far too bright. I close my eyes and they still burn from the light. I try covering my eyes as they're closed yet they're still burning. Until I can no longer see the light.
I open my eyes to find darkness. I open my phone and say. Hey Google call 911. I hear cars crashing in the darkness. I get up and run away from the noise. I stumble and fall but I manage to follow the sidewalk home thank the gods I was taking my normal route.
"911 what is your emergency?" The lady says. She sounds just as scared as I am. "I can't see something blinded me this morning as the sun rose." She pauses for a second. "Are you safe? She says." I find her question strange. "Yes I managed to find my way back home." She sighed a bit. "I'm blind as well and so are all of our emergency service workers. Just try and turn a radio or TV to a news station and await further instructions. We're all working in the dark right now. I don't even know how to tell people where to go!" She begins crying and then regains her composure. "Stay safe." she says as she hangs up.
After years we manage to adjust and somewhat keep surviving cars aren't really a thing anymore. Everyone walks everywhere and cities are mainly abandoned but there's a lot of goods to raid from them to trade for food if you can manage it. Everyone's hearing has increased significantly. It's what we use along with scent to hide from predators mainly packs of wild dogs and occasionally escaped zoo animals.
Just as it seems we'll adjust to our blindness. I am hiding from something I've never heard before in a shop. It doesn't sound like anything I've ever heard. All of a sudden I'm blinded again. It's like the blinding light from before. I see inside of the walls of the shop. Don't let them know you can see. Who were they talking about.
Then as I step outside I see exactly who they're refrencing. Floating orbs with what seems like endless tendrils. They are carrying different people away. I go back into the shop and find a pair of thick black shades. I put them on my face and I pick up my walking staff. What in the world happened that day.
Then I hear the "drones" that drop food to us. I see a few people come out of hiding. Turns out what we thought were drones were nothing of the sort. They latch there tendrils onto the faces of those nearby. Pumping something into us. Come to think of it the closer I look at them they don't look human at all....
I try to walk normally back to the store. It's pretty easy to find a mirror since nobody would be raiding those since we're all blind. I look into it and my skin is moist with tendrils forming around my mouth. I was too distracted earlier at the return of my site to notice the webbing inbetween my fingers. The scales that were growing on my hand.
I begin to have a headache. My blood feeling as though it's boiling. That's right I always went to the "drones" before this. I go back to them. They latch onto my face and begin pumping sustenance into my body. Then I feel it. They know is all I can think. I rip it from my face and I run to the store where I awakened my site. I don't know why. Call it instinct. I break the mirror and write. Stay away from the drones in my black blood. Soon it finds me soon it drags me from the store.
It takes me into its mouth. I feel myself disappear this isn't death. It's rebirth. I awaken my eyes are working. I am hiding from something. On the walls of the store I'm hiding in there are two messages. Don't let them know you can see and beware the drones. What does this mean? | 2022-10-09T01:59:27 | 2019-08-26T10:34:32 | 4,287 | 17 |
[WP] Superheroes lie about their powers to protect themselves; some speedsters are actually just able to teleport, and some people with super-strength can just cancel gravity to make things lighter. You're trying to come up with a plausible lie for your powers. | Some get the power of speed, moving faster than electronics could even process, and the human eye could ever possibly hope to track. Others granted with the powers of great strength, setting weightlifting records and simply maintaining the lies that their extensive training is the reason for their superhuman strength.
But for I?
I can make very few excuses and even fewer are even believable.
My powers are ones that will not grant me any grand medals or give me any thunderous applause of joy nor jubilation.
Because my blessing is a curse delayed.
The powers of Death itself.
Seeing and collecting the souls of the deceased every waking moment of my life, ensuring they went to their proper places in the afterlife…
I had only two conceivable options for me and neither of which were easy on my mind or my own spirit.
I became a Funeral Director as my day trade, having to tend to the bodies while also insuring the spirit was also properly taken care of.
Unfortunately, just because my shift was over did not mean my ‘duty’ was done with me.
I spend many hours wandering around cemeteries and the city, finding those that have become lost and guiding them back to where they should be, listening to the grievances and grudges that tether them, having to convince them that it is time to go…
It is something I take no pleasure in, especially when one of those souls turned out to be the woman that I once planned to ask on a date..
She was never scared of me or my powers, in fact, she possessed abilities that healed and even helped me at the funeral home some times when I became…overwhelmed.
Something in me wanted to let the lie fall, rid myself of these pretenses, and just allow myself to slip into the shadows….
Yet, I know that’s not what she would have wanted, she tells me such almost daily since her spirit seems attached to me.. | You tell everyone that you have the power of flight. But that seems like too simple of an explanation, and people are starting to get suspicious.
It is incredibly hard to explain that there happens to be a very unique “phenomenon” that occurs within your body. It is something completely natural within your body, and no one else’s.
But the truth is, you’re just incredibly flatulent. Not only that, but instead of methane, your body naturally produces helium instead. And you’ve learned that if you prevent yourself from passing gas for long enough, and retain enough flatulence, you can make yourself float. When you do finally let loose, the sheer amount you have inside of you propels you incredible distances at incredible speeds, while the residual helium keeps you afloat until your “tank” runs empty.
One of the awkward questions you frequently receive is “why does it take you so long to get in the air?”. Which is usually followed by “why does it sound like you’re releasing a balloon when you finally get going? A balloon full of sewage?”
You want to answer honestly. You want to tell someone, anyone the truth about what goes on inside you. But you fear the response you might get. Either utter disbelief, or absolute hysterics. You aren’t sure which would be worse, so for now you just keep telling everyone “my superhero ability is “flight””. | 2022-06-06T17:30:16 | 2022-06-06T16:57:42 | 34 | 24 |
[WP] An unidentified dead human body is found in space. | "Uh, Houston, we have something happening up here. Request switch to private channels." Mission Commander Elle Waterson chirped over the radio. "Roger that", came the reply.
Ground control switched over to the encrypted channel. Nobody was aware of what was about to be revealed. Normally, it was talk of toilets malfunctioning, or bad odors in the cockpit. Nothing serious ever seemed to happen on private channels, just embarrassing drudgery and unglamorous work that is needed to keep the Space Station running smoothly. That was about to change.
"ISS, you're go for private channel." Ground Control replied, in their usual deadpan, calm, and professional manner.
"We just found a corpse." Commander Waterson said. There was a long pause that seemed to last an eternity.
"Oh god... who is it?" Ground Control finally said.
"That's the thing. We don't know." she said, trying to keep the quiver of fear inaudible. The silence again seemed to stretch into hours.
"Uh, say again, ISS? It sounded like you said you didn't know." the voice of Ground Control had regaining the composure it had briefly lost.
"Roger, Ground Control. He's floating outside the Zarya module without an airsuit. He's wearing what seems to be a military uniform, but it's bleached pure white. All crew are present and accounted for." The silence was heavy in the air, neither Commander Waterson or Ground Control able to grasp words.
The astronauts on board had trained for months, they had trained for every possible contingency. And yet nobody had any idea what to do. Commander Waterson looked at the crew. They were in stunned silence, one was curled up in the fetal position.
Finally, after a few minutes of silence on the ground, the radio came back to life. "Roger that, ISS. We're talking with the Russians and Chinese, the Russians have already confirmed it's not one of theirs, we're still waiting to hear back from the Chinese, but we haven't tracked any launches from anywhere recently. Can you describe the body?"
"Average height, average build, bleached white hair. He looks like he's been out there a while because he appears to be frozen solid, and the bleaching seems to cover his whole body. Requesting permission to perform an EVA to retrieve the body. We can send it down in the return ship scheduled for later today for examination."
The pauses between communications kept growing. Finally, Ground Control replied: "Roger, ISS, you're go for EVA".
The EVA went smoothly and quickly. Flight Engineer Demidov remarked that it was the easiest EVA he could remember. Getting the frozen body through the ISS and into the return ship went quickly and urgently. Nobody wanted it on board any longer than necessary.
As the return ship launched, ostensibly returning garbage and samples to earth, Commander Waterson requested permission from Ground Control to return to public channels, which was quickly granted.
"Ground Control, the Soyuz capsule is on its way back to Earth, marking another successful batch of scientific research completed. Thank you for your assistance." Waterson said, careful to not reveal anything that had just happened.
"Roger that, ISS. The crew has performed admirably. You guys take the rest of the day off, you guys have earned a break."
Elle smiled briefly, before she saw it. The craft which the body must have come from.
It resembled a scaled up V2 rocket, with a faded Swastika on a hatch where the warhead would have normally sit.
She sighed before she said into her headset: "Houston, we have something happening up here. Request switch to private channels". | Floating in the vast distance, I see a lone figure. The body floats calmly, facing away from me, as if in a sea of tranquility. It is peaceful. Behind the body, I see the wreckage of what is now space junk. I lean against the seat of the shuttle and record the meters and gauges for mission control down on Earth. I push some buttons to adjust my apogee. As I glance out the window again, I notice the body slowly rotate. I lean forward to take a closer look. My curiosity has been peaked and I focus.
The body spins and I began to see the reflection of the gold helmet. Suddenly the body waves. Chills run down my spine.
*krsssh*
"Shuttle man, come in. I repeat, shuttle man, come in."
The radio transmission breaks my concentration. I am still focused on the figure in front of me. I push the transmit button without taking my eyes off the figure.
"This is shuttle base. Have you found anything?"
The figure propels himself towards me via jetpacks. I ready the air lock controls.
"Negative, shuttle man. Place is cleaned out. Looks like there was an in-cabin explosion. Probably a failure to seal off the air to prevent a fire. This place is as dead as it gets."
I wince and tense my muscles before regaining my composure.
"Mission control will be disappointed if we are unsuccessful. We will keep looking tomorrow. Get back to the shuttle and rest up. I'll take the next search."
"Relax, *Russkie*. You're so uptight. I'm sure we'll find something."
My partner approaches the airlock. I open the entrance for him and prepare for pressurization. My forehead wrinkles as I consider locking him out until his oxygen runs out, though that would be against protocol.
"Owen, please respect my nationality. I would prefer if you would call me by my name and not by offending terms. This is an important mission for my country, so it would be best to keep busy and serious."
He enters the airlock, and I wait patiently as my coworker enters the cabin.
"Alright, *Pyotr*. I'll cool it with the jokes. I forget how serious you Russians are with space."
"Thank you, Owen."
Owen takes a seat next to me and I could feel his eyes staring at me. I maintain my gaze forward. There is nothing to say, for the silence says all. Owen faces forward and stretches. The wreckage in front of us is peaceful in a way. I close my eyes and meditate, tranced by the low hum of the electronic machine I am in.
A few moments passed and Owen stands up.
"Pyotr."
I open my eyes and a body slowly glides across the glass window. Owen runs to prepare his suit. The helmet is shattered and the suit is burned to a crisp. It is close enough so that I could see the remains of what is a charred skull. The flag emblems are that of the USSR.
I run my hands across the console until it reaches a large button. I push down and quietly speak.
"Mission control. Standby." | 2013-10-30T08:12:41 | 2013-10-30T08:09:51 | 450 | 21 |
[WP] The Apocalypse wasn't as bad as the legends foretold. Sure the demons and angels are fighting everywhere, but they don't do THAT much collateral damage and the economy is booming thanks to humanity's ability to profit off of war. | Feb 1, 2021
WASHINGTON, DC - President Trump struck a gleeful tone in the White House Press Room on Monday when he announced a new multi-billion gold nugget weapons deal with Satan, the Lord of Darkness. The second such deal of its kind since the outbreak of the Apocalypse late last year, the United States has agreed to provide the Army of Hell with thousands of firearms and explosives in what the President called an "interdimensional arms deal the likes of which has never been seen."
"It's going to be beautiful", the Mr. Trump said from the podium in front of reporters, many of them in chains. "A lot of people said it couldn't be done. And you had the Democrats saying that America shouldn't negotiate with the devil."
Asked if he was actually fucking serious, Mr. Trump responded "I am serious, yes. Very serious. No one is more serious about this deal. And, you know, I've spoken to Lord Satan and he's a great guy. Just a very great, hardworking man. And he just wants his army to win. And he's a big fan of Trump too. He likes what we're doing here."
Of the general backlash to his newfound friendship with Beelzebub, the President said "I think the media has, you know, been unfair about this. The media and the Democrats just can't accept that they lost another election they should've won and now you have this arms deal which is another big loss for them. But it's a big win for the American people and for our economy."
The Army of Hell has been locked in a relatively calm war with the Forces of Heaven since late last year. Following the coronavirus pandemic, the cancellation of Better Call Saul, and then Mr. Trump's re-election, the gates of Hell opened in Branson, Missouri in what experts in ancient texts are calling the fulfilment of a dark prophecy. Shortly after, the Forces of Heaven, led by Jesus Christ of Nazareth, ascended from the sky to engage in battle with Satan's army. While initially many feared this would be the end of humanity, the armies have been doing battle largely in mid-air over wide, open spaces with minor damage to infrastructure and little to no disruption of everyday human life.
Inversely, the economy has actually seen a massive bounce back from the recession caused by the coronavirus pandemic last year. The first deal Mr. Trump signed with the devil largely reversed all the damage done by the spread of COVID-19. While many Democratic politicians have criticised the President's literal deal with the devil to save the economy, Mr. Trump has characteristically downplayed the questionable morals of the agreement.
"There's gonna be big, beautiful weapons factories built across our great country, with American workers on the production lines, American truckers driving through the gates of Hell, delivering those big, beautiful missiles", the President said in the press room. "To me, that's all that matters. But the media and the Democrats want to talk about this tiny little clause where if the Army of Hell win, Satan gets a position in my cabinet, and that's just part of the deal, you know? I'm a dealmaker, everyone knows that, and this will get Americans working again."
Satan was later invited to the podium where he ominously cackled for 40 minutes. | "I'll take uh, the flaming sword today Isaac." The demon said with an easy-going look on his face.
"Ah, you do love your antiques don't you Rasmondeous. That'll be 50 angel feathers."
"What can I say, it's hard to beat the old stuff." He tossed Isaac a small, brown sack and flew out of the store with his new toy. Isaac sat behind the counter and counted the feathers, and as per usual, the demon shorted him 10 feathers. Classic demon move.
Isaac moved into the back of the store where is father was forging up a new sickle, "I swear to satan we should've done business with the angels instead. These bastards are always shorting us feathers!"
His father wiped the sweat from his brow and looked up from the forge with a smile, "But the angels don't like our weapons, something about being too barbaric remember... pansies."
"Ya ya I know, but you'd think the devils would be more appreciative considering they've been winning this war for the past six years thanks to us humans... You know, sometimes I wish we'd sided with the angels instead."
"Don't say that son."
"No, I'm serious! These demon guys are real assholes."
"Don't assume any better from the angels."
"Seriously dad, why did we pick the demons instead. Everyone else sided with the angels."
His father became stern with this question and gazed into the flames of his forge intently. "You're not old enough yet."
"Oh come on dad! You've been saying that forever! You'll have to tell me eventually."
"Fine!" his father boomed, "Fine I'll tell something just to get you off this danged question! Then be done with it!" Issac became excited, his father never told him anything about before the apocalypse. He ran over beside his fathers forge and sat down to listen.
His dad put down his tools and turned to his son with a serious face, "You know I love you."
"Of course."
There was a long pause after this, as it seemed his father was contemplating something. "We chose the demons because they promised me something. Something very important to me, something the angels couldn't promise."
"What was it?"
"I told you I wouldn't say much, that's all you need to know."
"But da-"
"Enough! Now back to the storefront immediately!" Isaac carried himself back to the front with his head down. His father turned back to the forge in deep thought: *He can't know. He can't know this whole thing is about him, no boy should live with that kind of knowledge. That the battle for the world is about him.* He looked back over at his desk, where his own name wrote down on a tablet: "Abraham."
*He'll never get my son.* | 2020-05-06T08:56:04 | 2020-05-06T07:10:52 | 131 | 84 |
[WP] "I wish I never met you!" You shouted at your husband of 10 years, father of 2 of your children in a heated fight before bed. You then wake up on the day you first met. Eager to correct your mistake you wait for him in the park, but when your eyes met, he just smiled and walked past you. | I’d found out because he’d told me. It wasn’t a secret, it wasn’t something that had hung heavily over us for ages, and it wasn’t even that big a deal, in hindsight. He’d been drunk at an office party, a coworker had kissed him, and he’d admitted he hadn’t immediately drawn back away from it.
That was Nick. He couldn’t just be honest, he couldn’t just say she’d kissed him. He’d kissed her back.
The kids had been in bed for an hour when he’d started the conversation, sitting me down at the kitchen table, his request to talk laden with something heavy. I’d know there was something up with him, I had all evening, since of course after ten years of marriage you learn how to read each other. The fight had escalated into a shouting match, which I despair in hindsight, knowing the kids could hear, but hoping they were still too young to understand the meaning behind our thinly veiled metaphors.
I was first to go to bed, almost immediately after the fight, laying in the darkness and staring at the wall, my eyes puffy and red from crying. My mind travelled back to our wedding reception where an inevitable stream advice had been given over the course of all the toasts. ‘Never go to bed angry’ had been advised, though I couldn’t remember who’d said it. But this wasn’t something we could settle before midnight, and we both had work tomorrow.
When I woke up, I was in the park where we’d met.
We’d both been walking our dogs, and mine was a bit older so we’d taken a rest on a nearby bench. Nick had held tight to the leash in his hand, his dog just a couple years old, still a puppy, and mine patiently wagged her tail as they brushed noses. We got to talking and I felt something there. At the end of the conversation, I was actually the one to ask him for his number, and his face lit up, nodding.
So, I sat there on the bench with Sadie resting next to me. Nick walked by with his dog Maggie, and he met my eyes briefly with a smile. I smiled back. And he kept walking.
The smile slipped from my face and I leapt to my feet. “Nick!”
He turned around. “Sorry? Do I know you?”
My heart pounded in my chest. “This is how we met. You talked to me, we bonded, I got your number.”
His face blank with confusion, he shook his head. “I’m married, sorry.”
My eyes drifted to his ring finger, spotting the ring that I had given him at our wedding. But looking to my own hand, it was bare. A lump formed in my throat. “This isn’t right…” I managed.
“Have a good one,” he said, turning away.
“No, Nick!” I cried, grabbing his shoulder in a panic. I didn’t notice that the dogs were no longer there. I didn’t notice that we were suddenly alone in the park, that the sun was setting too quickly. It registered on a level of utter unimportance, compared to the butterfly I’d just somehow managed to squash in my past, changing the course of my history. “I love you.”
“I don’t know you,” he told me.
Tears spilled over and streamed down my face. “I’m sorry we fought,” I said, shaking my head furiously. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. This isn’t the end of our marriage, it can’t be. I won’t let it be, I won’t let you slip away from me.” I choked on a sob. “Our life together means everything to me, our boys are the lights of my life, my family is the center of *everything* I hold dear. Please don’t leave me. Please, I’m sorry I went to bed angry. I never should have done that. It was a mistake.”
Nick examined me closely. “Carol?”
“Yes?” I whispered.
“Carol? Carol?”
The world blurred into darkness and I flinched awake, my eyes darting around. The room lit only by Nick’s bedside table lamp, casting shadows across our bed as he leaned over me worried, wiping my face with his hand gently. “Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”
As my consciousness transitioned shakily, taking in reality over my dream, I nodded slowly. Realizing I’d been crying in my sleep, I sniffled a few times as I sat up, wiping away my tears. “Yeah…yeah, I’m okay, I just…nightmare…”
Nick leaned back against the headboard, letting out a breath. “I was having trouble sleeping too.” He paused. “I’m so sorry, honey, I can’t even-”
“No, hold on,” I interrupted, meeting his gaze. I took his hands in mine tightly. “This is why. This is why they say never to go to bed angry. It’s not always fixable, some problems are bigger than others, but…that’s what my mom said. Marriage is work. It’s a choice. Choosing the same person over and over, and I’m always going to choose you.” I sniffed. “I was just hurt. It…It hurt me that on some level, you wanted someone else.”
Nick raised a hand to cup my cheek and I leaned into it. “It was a drunk, in-the-moment reaction, and as soon as it happened, I regretted it with everything in me.”
I nodded. “I know.” I took a steadying breath. “I know.” His left hand still clasped in my right, I rubbed the back of his hand with my thumb. “We’ll be okay, right?”
With a small smile, Nick nodded. “It’s just a little mountain I accidentally dropped in our path. We’ll…I was gonna say we’ll make the journey over it, but that metaphor doesn’t work.” He hesitated. “I’ll do my best to hack it to pieces first, because I’m the one that put it there, and then we’ll make it over to the other side together.”
I leaned forward and gently kissed him and he wiped the residue of my tears from my face. We lay down together and he turned off his lamp. He curled up next to me, and we breathed each other in, our arms tangled together between us until we drifted off to sleep.
&#x200B;
/r/storiesbykaren | I rolled over in a fury befit a dragon. Every day it was getting worse. His callous words, the children pleading for us to stop, his career taking off while mine stumped to care for everyone but myself. I could feel the rage building greater the more I thought about it. Why did I have to give up my life for this selfish prick? Why did I give up my studies so that he could carry on his? Sure, he pays the bills. Sure, he’s home most nights. But damnit, if I didn’t give up on my dream just to be with him.
The late nights he’d work would bring double the stress. Late to bed, early to rise, makes a man bitter, resentful, and stupidly vocal about every little stupid thing wrong with this stupid house and this stupid life and...
I felt the blanket jostle over my waist. I grabbed the corner and angrily jerked it, hoping to stir him a little whilst gaining traction on the little blanket I had. He didn’t budge, but I knew he was awake.
“I wish I’d never met you.”
Waking up was always a chore. Alarms buzzing, I reached to silence the phone under my pillow and was greeted with sheets... More sheets. I rapidly popped out of bed and searched for my assumed-fallen “smart”phone. I hoisted the blanket off of the bed, and scoured my... red... bed sheet? What? They were supposed to be white? The alarm on my bedside table continued beeping as I blankly stared at it. This... This is my bedroom. Not ours. Mine.
I ran to the bathroom, stubbing my toe on the doorframe along the way, followed with a vocabulary to make a Marine proud, and held the sides of the wall-mounted mirror. No wonder my back ache was gone. What gazed back at me was my 21 year old self, the self that still had some hope for her future.
The calendar on the kitchen wall told me all I needed to know. I’d somehow unlocked the secret to time travel. No ring on my finger, no toddlers jumping on my back. No him. Not yet, anyway. This was the day I had originally met him, his gentle smile, his beautiful, brown eyes...
“No!” I pat my cheeks. “You’ve been granted a second chance, don’t waste it.” I checked the clock. 30 mins. 30 mins until I either got to class, or skip and go to the park and meet him again. The choice was clear. Nobody likes statistics being forced down your throat for a major that it wasn’t even meant for.
I packed up my interesting textbooks and ran, the backpack precariously swung over my shoulder. The park wasn’t too far away, but to make it in time meant nothing more than running at full gallop.
I dropped the bag on the bench and bent over it, begging my body to stop screaming for oxygen. I had to play this right, get all the cards lined up perfectly, to fix what I had done, and being immobilised by a need for air was not a part of the deal. I plopped my bottom next to the backpack and scoured the area, looking for any sign of him, reminding myself of all the crap I’d put up with, all the dreams I lost along that 10-year path. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted him... Walking? Wait, that wasn’t how it happened last time. He was supposed to be playing frisbee golf with his buddies...
Our eyes met, and he smiled. That smile... How could I have forgotten? Every moment of my life, well, future life, came flooding back to me. The good, the bad, the amazing, the depressing, all of it. An end-of-life scenario, if you will, flashing before my eyes for what seemed like an eternity. My hand twitched and longed to reach out, stopped only by the realisation that he was walking away. He was walking away! From me!
I jumped up, and with as much breath as I could muster, I shouted his name. He froze, and slowly turned around.
“How do you know my name?” His cold, seemingly frightened eyes glared at me.
“I know this is crazy, but please. Don’t walk away from me.” I could feel my knees trembling. What was I doing? He had been walking away, and that would’ve been the end of it. I could’ve chased my dreams, I could’ve travelled the world. What was I thinking calling after him?
“Tell me how you know my name,” he growled, walking toward me.
That’s why. Because I’d gotten too wrapped up in resentment to remember how amazing this man actually is. Was. Same difference now.
My knees gave out with my resolve. I fell, crying into my hands. “I’m sorry. I never meant those words. I never did, never will.” He reached me at this point, still angry, but now more concerned about the shit-show he was witnessing. I felt his warm hand rest upon my back.
“Hey, are you alright?” His soft words pierced through my heart.
I bit my lip and looked up at him, broken, remorseful, and grateful. “I promise,” I managed to sputter between my teeth. “I’ll be okay now.”
He helped me to my feet, an arm under mine, and pat me on the back. “Mind telling me how you know my name, now?” he smiled.
I looked at my feet for a moment, trying to decide if it were wise to tell him or not. I let out a sigh and went for it. “Because you are my beloved husband.”
His arms wrapped around me so fast, it was like I’d done a back flip on a trampoline and landed on my back. I heard a quiet sniffle as he prepared to speak. “I know. We’ll do it right this time, okay?” | 2021-02-15T16:04:35 | 2021-02-15T14:51:51 | 1,647 | 203 |
[WP] You ate your last apple almost a full day ago. The second hand on the clock creeps closer and closer to the 24-hour mark. Holed up in a cabin you ready your shotgun. You can feel them out there, waiting, watching. The Doctors. | Nobody thought the world would end like this. The room is filled with people who used to be guests at the Downtown Sheraton, but now we're all frightened animals. The news networks are flashing warnings and the internet is reporting millions dead. Men weeping and clutching wounds, children crying for their mothers - if there is a god it has a pretty fucked up sense of humor. Everyone is hungry and threadbare, but most of all we're all totally confused...
When I came in to work the convention as a favor to my boss it had already happened. I didn't understand what I was seeing until a man in a striped scarf and floppy hat punched through a man's chest and yelled something in a British accent, other Impeccably dressed men and the occasional woman were slaughtering everyone.
Everything after that is a blur of blood and screams, but now here we are in the hotel's smallest ballroom that we've been trained to use in the event of an active shooter. When the screaming turned into whimpering someone finally asked the question we were all thinking.
"What the hell was that."
In the silence that followed an older lady wearing a union jack hat and a shirt with some kind of blue telephone booth on the front said in a ragged whisper,
"The Doctors...." | Tick, tick, tick. Every second passing on my watch seemed deafening. I knew it was a mistake to rely on apples. I was bound to forget one day but I hated needles.
The door creaked. Bang. I scrambled to reload, no time to check if it hit. Bang. The door was split in two, someone outside screamed. Bang. The screaming stopped. Hands shaking, I dropped the last shell. Fuck.
The doctor burst through the door, sending splinters flying in an aura around him. Two steps and he was on me, apple in hand. He kicked my chest, propelling me into the wall behind with a crunch.
“Time to take your medicine!” The doctor screeched.
He raised the apple over his head. I closed my eyes and pictured my family. Mum was right, I should’ve been vaccinated. | 2019-09-28T16:06:45 | 2019-09-28T15:36:25 | 36 | 14 |
[WP] The Terran diplomat screamed with mind-numbing intensity: "DEEPEST APOLOGIES BUT AS YOU CAN TELL, HUMANS DO NOT HAVE THE ABILITY TO MODULATE OUR PSYCHIC VOICES. IT WOULD BE BEST TO REENABLE PSI SHIELDING AND STICK TO MACHINE TRANSLATION." | "DEEPEST APOLOGIES, BUT AS YOU CAN TELL, HUMANS DO NOT HAVE THE ABILITY TO MODULATE OUR PSYCHIC VOICES. IT WOULD BE BEST TO REENABLE PSI SHIELDING AND STICK TO MACHINE TRANSLATION."
Joruk worked his feelers back and forth in a gesture meant to be considerate. "I understand your concerns, Diplomat Karen Nguyen, but we have to ensure communications are straightforward, clear, and sincere. The best way to do that is to stay connected to the mind-link here in the PSI-Chamber."
Karen squared her shoulders. "I AM SERIOUS ABOUT THE PSI SHIELDING. THERE HAVE BEEN MANY THAT HAVE TRIED TO COMMUNICATE WITH US VIA PSYCHIC CHANNELS. BUT EVEN THOSE RACES THAT HAVE BEEN ABLE TO DEAL WITH THE STRAIN HAVE NOT BEEN ABLE TO DEAL WITH THE SECONDARY PROBLEMS. DANGEROUS ONES. MACHINE TRANSLATION WILL BYPASS THOSE DANGERS."
mBok-To loomed over the proceedings. "While you are loud, little one, I can handle this shouting. Most of this meeting will not need your input, as you are here solely to give us additional perspective before we make a decision about your planet. The mind-link will be needed to ensure you are fully truthful when you testify. Your race has been known to use deception and subterfuge before."
Karen shook her head and shrugged. "IT'S YOUR FUNERAL. THE EARTH PROTECTORATE ABSOLVES ANY RESPONSIBILITY FOR WHAT WILL HAPPEN."
With a short burst of energy, Txvolvu brought everyone to attention. "This gathering of the Alliance of Worlds will now come to order. Today, we will make the final decision as to what to do with the newest space-faring race to arrive: Humans. So far, there have been many..."
*...never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never...*
"...many, uhm, many arguments in favor of letting them remain unincorporated, but far more that have..."
*...never gonna give, never gonna give...*
"...uh, that have been in favor of WHAT IS THAT?"
"SORRY, THAT WOULD BE ME. THIS IS WHAT I WARNED YOU ABOUT"
Txvolvu stiffened. "Is that...supposed to be music?"
*What is love...baby don't hurt me...don't hurt me...no more*
"YES. OUR SPECIES HAS A COMMON PHENOMENA HAPPEN TO US. WE GET MUSIC STUCK IN OUR HEADS."
mBok-To shuddered. "Can you please not do that? It's...it's painful to listen to."
"IT'S COMPLETELY INVOLUNTARY. THE ONLY WAY WE CAN MANAGE TO GET THE MUSIC OUT OF OUR HEADS IS TO PUT ANOTHER SONG, A WORSE SONG IN IT. LIKE THIS."
*I love you, you love me, we're a happy fam...*
Phenderi clawed at her face until it was bleeding. "By the stars above, make it stop!"
Txvolvu slammed the silver sphere he'd been holding on the podium. "My associates, we can weather through this. We'll just ask the..."
*Gee, I hope you love me too. I love...*
"...the questions of the witness and send them on. Diplomat Karen Nguyen, answer these questions and answer them quickly. How many human ships of your Earth Protectorate are currently spaceworthy?"
"LIKE HOW MANY WE HAVE IN THE FORCES, OR JUST THOSE THAT WORK WITH THE FORCE?"
"I want to hear all of them, including the ones that work with the Force."
"OH...OH NO...I'M SO SORRY ABOUT THIS."
*some of those that work forces...are the same that burn crosses*
A tension built in the room.
"Wait, is this a worse one?"
*Some of those that work forces...Are the same that burn crosses*
"LOOK, YOU'LL WANT TO TURN THAT SHIELD ON NOW"
*SOME of those that work FORCES...ARE the same that burn CROSSES*
"We will not be intimidated into breaking protocols that have stood...for decades..."
*SOME OF THOSE THAT WORK FORCES...ARE THE SAME THAT BURN CROSSES!*
*HUH!*
And at that, the congregation collapsed to the floor. All of them writhing in pain and agony. Psychic noise scattered amongst them, disrupting their own thought patterns. Some let out audible screams.
And Karen Nguyen, now standing above them all, calmly walked over to Txvolvu's console.
*KILLING IN THE NAME OF...*
She reached over the edge of the console, and with a few button presses, she enabled the Psi-Shield.
Slowly, everyone started getting back up, most of them cradling what they considered their heads. Txvolvu seemed to recover fastest, and was now leaning against the console. But his eye stalks were all glaring at the human. Karen simply shrugged helplessly. And without a word, Txvolvu pointed her out the door.
-----------------------
Later, on the E.P. SUN TZU...
Captain Browder poured a glass of brandy and handed it to Diplomat Nguyen. "I gotta say, that was a ballsy move you people at the Diplomatic Corps came up with. We were just about to throw in the towel because of how much more firepower they had. I mean, I love the human race, but we're just getting started on real space travel, and these bastards have literally centuries of a head start on us. If they came at us full force, we wouldn't stand a chance."
Karen smiled. "Well, we had the advantage that our thought patterns seem almost painful to them, especially some of our music. It actually took months of surreptitious testing to find out what affected them the worst. I was picked because of my...affinity for Rage Against The Machine."
Browder grinned in return. "Well, you at least bought us the time we needed. We know they're almost certainly going to come for us, and your bluffing about the Psi-screens gave us the chance to lie through our teeth through the translator machines. They probably won't make a move against the fleet until it's too late, and by then, our colony ships will be long gone."
Karen's glass dipped down and she sighed. "It still hurts. I don't want to leave the Earth, but I know in my heart they'll exterminate us. If for no reason than to never get 'It's a Small World' stuck in their mind-link."
The Captain brought up his glass with a wistful sigh. "Well, then, here's to the poison of human thought. Cheers." | The five beings, as best as they could be described, were positioned around a stone pillar, where Ambassador Dorian Ashwander stood. They flickered, seeming to pass in and out of existence, or at least the observable dimension he belonged to. The way light passed through them when they were visible reminded him of ghosts he imagined as a kid. They were the five members of the Uurlean Council, and he represented all of humanity.
One of the members appeared to focus on him. A feeling like a cold splash of water consumed his mind. *Your suggestion is well taken, Ambassador,* spoke a smooth voice. It welled up from within him, from the place of his inner monologue, the place of supposed privacy and imagination. *We will deliberate your request.*
*THANK YOU FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION,* he thought to himself, and the five beings began a silent discourse.
He felt his sense of self had been breached, that an intruder had gotten inside of him and taken control, or worse had taken a look around. But he fought against the fear. He knew the psychic communication was merely an unpracticed ability, a weak muscle in the human mind that needed training before it was fully mastered. Nothing that could be accomplished in one human's lifespan, at least not now. But perhaps over time, and with extensive improvements to the organic body, humanity could incorporate the ability into its pallet.
Suddenly, the beings vanished, and Dorian felt alone. The stone pillar had little room to move, or else he risked dropping into a dark abyss. The platform he had walked across had disappeared the moment his foot left, held together by the psychic energy of the Uurleans.
He arched his back. It had grown sore from standing still without him noticing. It was a relief to feel something physical after the initial psychic introductions by the Council.
Another physical sensation caught his attention. A metallic moaning of something coming from above, growing louder and deeper until it appeared before him. An ancient speaker, about the size of his fist and covered in what appeared to be a greenish rust, presented itself before him. For a moment, all the moaning had stopped, and it was silent once more. But just for a moment.
"Is this the proper frequency?" asked a tinny voice which squeaked out of the speaker.
"Yes, I can hear you now," Dorian replied. He fought the urge to lean closer, as the speaker hung just beyond reach above the abyss.
"Oh, good. Fifth time is the spell, as you Terrans say, no? I thought we recorded this last time, Fremlin. Make sure to memorize this arrangement."
"Righto," said another voice through the speaker. While appearing to be a different accent, it, too, lacked a deeper tone and sounded a bit muffled.
"Again, Ambassador Ashwander, thank you for joining us this time-moment. This is Councilor Nyslor speaking again. This translator, as you know, requires us to use our psi-shields and thus interact with your dimensions through a different manner, and causes our forms to disappear from your visual capabilities. So I do apologize for our invisible appearance. Please do not feel too lonely."
Dorian tried not to look anywhere but the speaker itself. He could almost feel the gravity tugging him over the edge.
"I appreciate your accommodations. It speaks well of the Uurlean beings and hopefully brings comfort to your minds as I speak."
"It's quieter, for one," said Fremlin, followed by strained laughter. Dorian struggled to keep track of the different tones through the small speaker.
"Let's get on with it," said another voice.
"Yes, let's," said Nyslor. "Proceed with your comments, Ambassador."
Dorian cleared his throat. This was it.
"I understand with your psi-shields enabled you have limited time, so I will make my presentation brief. It has come to our attention that the Uurlean Vapor fleet has settled uncomfortably close to our homeworld, Earth, and has refused our many pleas to relocate or remedy the psychic disturbance. The proximity has caused incalculable damage to us, primarily in mental health. When approached by our Director of Foreign Relations, the Admiral simply tells us to stop yelling so much and enjoy the view."
"Just to be clear," interjected one of the voices, "this certainly the Vapor fleet, led by Admiral Voldu?"
"I believe so, Counselor."
The speaker was quiet for an uncomfortable period. Then, like a splash of scalding water erupting in his mind, another voice spoke in the space of his inner monologue.
*You shall tell Earth to endure the Vapor fleet quietly,*
A glimpse of orange appeared before him, even as the speaker translated Uurlean shouts.
"Where did you go, Fremlin?"
"Get back on this side of the shield!"
The burning sensation continued in Dorian's mind, bringing him to his knees.
*or else return to your homeworld to witness its destruction.*
The mirage faded, and Nyslor's tinny voice spoke through the speaker spoke once more.
"Ambassador Ashwander, I am deeply sorry for my colleague's behavior. You can surely discount whatever he may have told you. We assure you we will do all we can to release your people from our unintended interruption. Please return to your home and find it in peace."
Dorian could only nod, and crawled out from the stone pillar across the platform which had appeared beside him. The fire coursed from his head through the rivers of neurons in his body. But it wasn't long after he left the dangers of the abyss before he could manage to get up and sprint to his shuttle.
He had to tell the Director immediately that he had found Voldu's link to the Council. The plan had worked.
Edit: [part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/grvcqt/wp_the_terran_diplomat_screamed_with_mindnumbing/fs268th) is below
Edit 2: I've posted both parts in my sub /r/ReverendRamboWrites . I cant write anymore right now, but if I'm able to continue the story, that's where new parts will be! | 2020-05-27T22:16:14 | 2020-05-27T18:58:12 | 1,415 | 410 |
[WP] Everyone knows you're the most powerful member of the league, so why are you an F-tier hero? Because F-tier is cleanup. The others protect the world from threats. You protect it from the other heroes. | I was 15 when I woke with a raging headache that wouldn't stop. Of course, parents initially think it's you have a test in school you don't want to take, or perhaps a peer issue, or that maybe you snuck into the liquor cabinet. It wasn't any of those. It was the morning of the Awakening. Not just for me, but for a number of us who lived in close proximity to the industrial farms.
CoreLab had been using a new fertilizer on the crops that also helped with the new Roundup resistant weeds that had evolved in response to that product. For some of us with a specific background level of DNA from an area in medieval Europe it triggered a mutation.
&#x200B;
Of course Mom and Dad didn't get hit with the mutation, as they only had half the equation. This is what the doctors explained to me as they put me in the ice bath to try to lower my temperature and get the mutation under control.
Eventually, my skull split, and the new me crawled out.
My brain and nervous system devoured my now dead body, and regenerated a new one, right in the ice bath. The CNA who was attending me passed out. However the cameras caught it all. In the moments it took for me to regrow a body, my parents rushed in to see me standing naked over the woman trying to help her wake up. They tried to get me to go back in the ice bath, I told them I no longer needed it. That was when they saw my skin was flawless, no moles, no scars. I grabbed a blanket to cover myself and told them, I was their son, but I was not who they brought in. I had been reborn.
&#x200B;
That was 22 years ago.
Around the world, 174 of us were stricken with the transformation. Of those, 49 survived.
The 49 were gifted with amazing abilities. AMAZING ones. Not always abilities that lent themselves to be what comics would call super heroes or villains.
Some had the power of flight, but were no more hardy than a normal person. As night raven discovered when they had one of their eyes poked out by a piece of dust while flying at high speed.
Others had super strength, or super resilience to the elements.
Somehow, I had been gifted. (is it really a gift?) multiple powers. I had amazing strength, bone density and my skin could withstand being shot by even high powered rifles. I could jump insanely far and not shatter my bones on the landing. Which was nice, although not really "flying" like a few others were able to do. I had another one that was really useful as well. I'll explain it in a moment.
Eventually, governments decided to categorize us into levels for response.
A levels and B levels were normally sent out as first responders to major threats. C and D levels for either minor things, or backup to the A and B heroes. Then there was the "F Troop".
People were assigned to that crew for two reasons. One, cleanup where there might be spillover in battles, and two, because you weren't reliable for the other squads.
&#x200B;
I was classified as having Alpha level powers. However I didn't want to be their lacky boy. I volunteered for "Cleanup duty" They expected me to run their little F Troop. I told them that they could take a hike with that, too. So I report to a guy named Brian Hozerman. You might remember him as Shadowbomb. He can create areas of no light. They tried to explain it to me one time, and I told them I really didn't care. We just needed to fix what had been damaged. All of it.
My awakening was unlike anyone else's. Shadowbomb sneezed one day and his Livingroom was enveloped in darkness. The screams of his parents caused him to snap out of his siezure that was caused by the sneeze and the lights came back on. Nobody else had their brain consume their previous body and regenerate. Not even those with enhanced healing factors.
I could cause any number of things to regenerate. When MuffinTop toppled the Lorsen town hall in our battle 7 years ago, my parents had been inside. I was horrified that this asshole would have done such a thing. (I think he was angry about parking tickets for his 'work van'!)
I punched him with my full force, something I had not done since early in getting my powers. His head disintegrated. Heck, most of his upper torso did as well from the shockwave.
I then ran to the rubble and started pulling stuff away when I thought, what if this could just regenerate, and I laid my hands on the pile of rubble and coaxed it all back into shape. Not just the concrete and steel of the building, but the water pipes, electricity, network cabling, all of it. I found my parents sitting stunned and unharmed in the tax assessor's office. They remembered the blast, then being back.
I went back and regenerated MuffinTop who stood in shock. He knew I had punched him. He knew he had died, but there he stood. I told him to pay his "<obscene gerund deleted> parking tickets and to make his way to the other side of the planet." I wouldn't bring him back if I saw him again.
So now, I clean up after the Heroes who just don't care about buildings they destroy, or those within them. I moved back home to my parent's property, although, I have my own house there. Life is good. Well, Shadowbomb is a pain in the ass as a boss, but he knows what I can do, so he does cut me some slack on my attiude.
&#x200B;
As to the others, well, they don't bother me. They all know that I am probably the most powerful, and I have stopped squabbles in their tracks by asking if they remember MuffinTop.
So, if you're gonna help, help. But don't forget when you are trying to stop some criminal, that the people around that neither one of you care about, might be someone that others care about. Just ask MuffinTop. | I ran through the alleyway, trying to put on the left sleeve of my costume as fast as I can. Ok, I can do this! I bump into a trash can and the lid goes rolling down the street. Ok, I can try to do this. Finally, I have the stupid thing on.
Rushing out of to the scene I see the newest villain team being held back by Radiant and Legion, while the Darkstar, Red Ogre and Shadow are giving support. Damn, too much fire in the way, I can't get too close. I look around, there is Ok, focus, do what you can. There! The man is stuck in his car window and Darkstar might hit him with his lasers. I ran over and start pulling him out.
"Don't worry sir", I'll get you out in a minute.
"The hell are you doing! Stop pulling me."
"Please stop resisting, we need to get you out of here."
"Stop this you idiot. I am not stuck, I am trying to..", suddenly both me and the man get thrown back. A second later the car goes up in flame by a stray shot by someone. "Phew, that was close!"
"Damn you, I almost got my dog out of there if it weren't for you!", he says and suddenly hits me. "Argh!" And then he is off the road. Damn, why always me? A dog suddenly sprints out behind the car and runs after the man. Well, at least that worked out. Thanks Power.
I turn around to see where else I can help and... the fight is over. Oh, well that was fast. Damn, they really are amazing. I wish... "Hey, Thirteen, right? What are you doing here? The call for this was for B-class and above only?" I suddenly here. Turning around I see it is Red Ogre and Shadow.
"Oh, e-eh.. hello, sir. I mean ma'm. I was doing cleanup, you know, moving the rubble after the fight with Bumblebee, over at seventh street! And my comms came on saying to move over to help and..."
"Wait, the comms must have mentioned the threat level first. They always do, why did you engage in a fight above your rank?" she crosses her arms and glares at me. Crap! First rule at the base, don't make Ogre angry. Or more angry then usual.
"Err.. well, I dropped my comms unit the other day, and it sometimes drops in static when an announcement comes over and.. I mean, I think they mentioned my name, I mean they said that Thirteen should move over to.. and.. " I mumble the last part.
"You destroyed another comms unit! And why were you doing cleanup, your hours were cut after your last fiasco with Oceanus!" "I mean, I was in my civies just helping out, I wasn't in custome I swear and.."
"Stop. You are assigned to the cleanup team for a reason Thirteen. Get out of here Thirteen. We'll talk about it at the base tomorrow."
"Yes, sir. I mean ma'm." Damn, her eyes are getting really red. I should probably go. "I should probably go. Uhm.."
"Yes, you should." drops in Shadow.
"Right!" Well, this could have gone worst at least. I mean, at least it wasn't like the.. thing.. with the zoo animals. Right, it wasn't as bad as that time with the zoo. Progress Thirteen! It is something! Who knows, you might even get your usual hours back in a few months! "Boom!" Eh, what was that?
Turning around I see a giant plume of smoke behind the corner.
Damn, should get home before something else blows up, oh maybe I can visit that fast food shop. I swear the cashier was flirting with me this morning. Maybe I'll get lucky? Hah! As if....
**Later, at Hero HQ**
In the top of the tower, Prime Overseer looks out the window.
"Sir, reporting the status of Anomaly Seven!" says Red Ogre.
"Go on. What's the situation? Everything went according to plan? Any deviations?"
"We had some issues with the execution of section 67, a.. trashcan ran into Sparkplugs newest machine and somehow wedged itself exactly where the wiring for the core was. It completely stopped the support before they could appear. Section 67 as such was scrapped. The machine exploded a few minutes later, and the scanners reported it is likely caused by a stray. The rest of it went off without an issue."
"Good. Good..."
"Sir, how... how long do we need to keep doing this? Thirt.. I mean Anomaly Seven has been nothing but a blessing. Nobody in the League was hurt, the villains have been apprehended and we had zero civilian injuries for months now and.."
"Ogre, did you forget about the specifics of Anomaly Seven's powers?"
"No, sir. But I just hoped we could.."
"No, nothing. Anomaly Seven affects the probability chances of everything around him going right based on his subconscious desires and mental state. As long as he considers the Hero League to be 'good' and believes himself to be unlucky the whole world profits from it. We cannot allow Anomaly Seven to believe himself to be lucky or turn against us. As long as we can maintain his current mental state the whole world will be protected. It is our duty as heroes."
"Yes, sir. I understand."
"Are Brainwave and Dreamcatcher ready for the usual Plan 14 tonight?"
"Yes, everything is ready for the usual monitoring."
"Good. And the subplan with the fast food attendant?"
"Agent 17 and Agent 26 are ready and in position. Agent 17is ready to flirt with Agent 26 right when Anomaly Seven enters the shop."
"Execute it as ordered Ogre. We need to get the parameters right. He has been far too upbeat this week."
"Yes, sir."
"Dismissed." | 2021-09-23T07:05:33 | 2021-09-23T07:04:47 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Instead of killing your minions for petty reasons you use positive reinforcement to improve their skills and pay them the amount they deserve. What was just a simple act in your eyes has led to you having an army of the most zealous and loyal henchmen. | "So, you thought you'd follow your own little plan and disregard my orders, did you?"
Eyes downcast, his minion said "Yes, m'lord."
His other lackeys in the room looked around at each other nervously.
"Good. Shows initiative. In the field, you must be willing to adapt to circumstances. You saw an opportunity to ambush the boy and you took it. Well done. Here in my domain, we reward that sort of thing."
He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small bag that jingled as he tossed it to Dorf.
Dorf looked surprised and relieved as Lord Aceron addressed the room. "3 months wages as a bonus to this man. I know you are all new here, but it's important that you all understand that I run things a little differently than most evil overlords. As long as you do not betray me, you have nothing to fear. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a chosen one to dispose of. Oh, and Dorf - you may consider yourself promoted. Strategy meeting tomorrow at 9:00 sharp in my counsel chambers."
It had been a difficult year for Lord Aceron. Several months ago all of his henchmen had been wiped out and he himself almost killed when some heroes convinced a number of them to desert. He had used more traditional methods of instilling control and loyalty before, but he was first and foremost a practical man. If an approach didn't work, it ought to simply be discarded and another selected. He had decided to do things differently this time. The initial results were promising.
It was time for the weekly mission reports. Dorf handled most of these lately, but any reports he deemed sufficiently significant were sent on to Lord Aceron.
"Yes, henchperson Nari. Report."
She swallowed. "Well, m'lord ..." She rattled out her report and then stood still, with her fists balled and her teeth gritted.
"Let me see if understand the situation correctly. Unanticipated magical security cause you and your team to be caught, and rather than sacrificing your people to get the gems, you decided to instead retreat, returning with all henchmen alive?"
"Uh, yes, m'lord."
"You made the correct decision; there are many such treasures ripe for the taking out in the world, and my servants are much too valuable to be squandered over one of them. Please ensure that any wounded are treated properly and report to the Learned Ones at your earliest convenience to discuss the magical security you encountered. We need to develop a countermeasure. You may go."
"Thank you m'lord!" Nari straightened and walked out of the room much more buoyantly than she entered.
Later that week, Lord Aceron was inspecting the construction of a new wing of his palace. His lackeys swarmed around, busy as bees, but something caught his eye.
He met the foreman's eyes and raised his voice to be heard over the din. "Foreman, come here please."
The foreman hurried over immediately and said "Foreman Scuttle reporting, m'lord."
"Scuttle, do you see that scaffolding?"
"Yes, m'lord."
"It is in a shamefully flimsy state and looks like it could collapse at any moment. Have it rebuilt immediately, and see that it is properly sturdy."
"Well, right away m'lord, but that will slow construction considerably."
"And? Let it be slowed. If the scaffolding collapses, that will lead to injury at a minimum. It is important to me that my henchmen's safety not be risked in pursuit of speed."
"Yes, m'lord. I understand."
"Excellent."
Over the next several months, Lord Aceron's lackeys grew to understand that he did not dole out arbitrary punishments, but instead that he rewarded competence and initiative, valued their well-being, and paid well to boot. But he had yet to understand to what extent this affected their loyalty. 1/2 | "....Union?"
"Specifically speaking, the Loyal Dregs and Bodyguards 220."
"... why the "220?"
Hale stole a glance at Bott. Under his breath, Hale mentions that, well, all the other Unions like the Sidekicks 27 and the Local Fruit Carts 365 have numbers after, so why not us. Both stare nervously at the floor. Dr. Deathbacker rolls her shoulders forward and places her chin upon laced fingers, elbows perched on her high gloss, jet black desk.
"Shouldn't we...", she muses, grasping the air with her hand, searching through the mist of thought before her for the right word. "*Zhuzh* it up a bit? How about 666? Something ominous?" She smiles at Hale and Bott as the nod frantically in agreement and start amending their notes. Good kids.
Dr. Deathbacker (*nee' Margarat Hollworth*) had obviously not been born in her patent leather suit and stilettos but she had been blessed with a penchant for crime. The crazy kind. The big kind. Jewel heists, celebrity kidnappings, bomb threats at major sporting events, occasionally holding the world hostage with untested nuclear weaponry. You know, all the fun stuff. Dr. Deathbacker had the drive, the ambition, the unchecked Einstien level intelligence allowing her to get oh so, so close to taking over the world, but -- at a mere 4'11, seriously lacked in physical prowess or intimidation. Sure, she could build one of those exoskeleton things that those jerk hero bros wear, but it lacked fashion. She was going to rule the world in *style*. She does admit that however, to do so, she'll need some help.
So, enter the goons. She's going to need a lot of them, and they are going to have to be good, die hard folks to do the muscle work with fantastic devotion. Some villains use manipulation to ensure their ranks, but starting a cult is complicated and it doesn't last long before you have to kill them all and start with new ones. Henchmen don't grow on trees. Well, not yet. More tests. But Dr. Deathbacker didn't get where she is today by using such blunt tools as fear, not when surgical tools are available -- like feedback, cost of living raises, generous vacation time, and an HR department. It's so much easier to pay Patricia 75k a year to help them sort out their squabbles than it is to keep shoving more bodies in that incinerator. You wouldn't believe how much power it takes to run.
The Union though, absolutely novel idea. She wasn't surprised that the boys had picked up the idea from the other side. Collective bargaining, striking, ensuring benefits, hazard pay. A little voice inside of her, the quiet and small voice of Margarat whispered into her soul that perhaps this meant that Dr. Deathbacker wasn't the best boss she could be. That maybe they wanted this because they thought she could do better, that she didn't listen, that maybe it wasn't working. But, as she always did, she pushed poor Maragat aside; she was always such a negative gal. She kept her mouth in a tight, polite smile as she watched Hale and Bott skip off to finalize the agreement for her to sign. Their reasons for organizing didn't matter -- only the health and happiness of the minions below her did.
At least until she sent them to deaths in battle. Well, for now, anyway. More tests. | 2022-10-05T08:45:19 | 2022-10-05T06:00:14 | 525 | 221 |
[WP]The story of someone dying and realizing their religion was not true. | This is bollocks you know.
**THATS NO WAY TO SPEAK TO A GOD**
Not my bloody god mate, I followed ...
**YOU CHOSE INCORRECTLY**
Oh come on, just let me in. My mate Bob was a ... whatsit.
**HOMOSEXUAL?**
No ... wait, what? He was gay? But he'd been going out with Crystal for years.
**ITS ALL JUST A COVER UP, HE WAS CONCERNED WITH HOW PEOPLE WOULD REACT**
.... s'fucking 2016 mate. No one cares. Also, should you be telling me that? Seems sort of personal.
**AND WHO ARE YOU GOING TO TELL?**
Ah, good point. So ... now what?
**WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE? I CAN'T LET YOU IN, BUT IT DOESN'T MEAN OPTIONS ARE CUT OFF**
Well, what's the options.
**OBLIVION, SUFFERING, OR REBIRTH**
Many folks go with oblivion?
**MORE THAN YOU WOULD EXPECT**
Same with suffering?
**NO, MOST PEOPLE DON'T. GET THE FEW ODD ONE OR TWO NOW AND THEM. BUT I THINK THEY MAY BE SADOMASOCHISTIC**
I'll take the rebirth then, if thats okay?
**VERY WELL, PLEASE JOIN THE QUEUE**
Queue? Oh bugger that, give me the oblivion. | "Age 2, you lied for the first time. Your mother asked you if you tipped your juice over and you said no."
"I was just a baby! Does that even count?"
"Age 15, you told your girlfriend you were sick. You were actually at a house party drinking."
"Yeah well all 15 year olds do dumb things. You'd know, you created them!"
"Age 23, a girl that worshipped me pursued you, but you didn't want to change your life."
"I had another 60 years before I needed to worry about death. You can't blame me for wanting to live my life how I wanted to."
"Age 30, you settled, had a career, got married, had children."
"Yeah, I was a pretty good person, huh?"
"Age 57, you had a heart attack in your sleep. You didn't believe in any religion."
"Well I can't say I expected to be here. But I didn't kill anybody so surely that's good enough?"
"No, it isn't." | 2016-04-11T10:58:32 | 2016-04-11T09:44:54 | 76 | 42 |
[FF] "So, come here often?"
Begin your story with this line of dialogue.
Oh, and set your story somewhere other than a bar or restaurant. In fact, set it somewhere in the distant past or future.
And make it less than 500 words.
Have fun! | "So, come here often?"
Don stared hard at the man holding the rope. His face was still, and his eyes were even in the Alabama sun.
"I take it you're trying to have some fun with me," said Don.
The man's face remained impassive, but a smile erupted after a moment.
"Aw, hell. If you can't have a bit of levity here, where can you, is what I say." The man took the rope in his burly hands, and fastened it around Don's neck.
"That's a good point, but I'm not really in the mood for levity at this moment."
"Pardon my saying so, but you're not gonna have many other moments," said the man with the rope, as he tightened the knot.
Don's breath caught momentarily. "That is true. I can't say that I had considered that."
"You ever think much about getting hanged?"
"I don't think about it so often."
"See, that's why I make the jokes. It helps." The man with the rope fastened one end onto the crossbar, and got off the ladder.
"You got a good joke for me now?" Don's eyes were wet.
"I got *a* joke for you." The man placed his hands on the lever. "Why can't you hang a deaf man in Georgia?"
"Why?"
"It's illegal to hang a man without a proper hearing."
Don chuckled. "You been sitting on that one for a while?"
The man nodded. "No one ever wants to hear the joke."
"They're missing out." Don closed his eyes. "It was quite funny."
"That means a lot to me, sir." The man with his hand on the lever smiled, and pulled.
---
EDIT: Which one of you low-down sons of guns gave me gold? | "So, come here often?"
I heard the gruff voice behind me say. I turned around and saw a familiar face covered in mud. It was my brother. Our different platoons had landed on the same beach in Omaha during the assault. I jumped up at once, dropping my canteen and wrapped him up in a hug.
"My God, I'm so glad to see you George", I said as I choked back my emotions.
"Hell Johnny, you know it'll take more than a few pissy Kraut's to take me out."
George was three years older than me, served as a father figure since an actual father was absent to us both. We grew up in North Texas, a job at the local mill here, a ranch hand there. We never stayed in once place for long. I guess that's why the Army had such an appeal to us.
"I got a letter from Aunt Ruth today." I started to pull the letter out when we heard his platoon leader command his troops back into formation.
"Sorry John boy, I'll catch you down the road though."
There was an odd silence to the atmosphere as I watched my older brother walk away for the last time on that smoky beach.
---
I know that my grammar isn't top shape and this is super short, but I haven't ever posted here before. So be gentle. | 2013-08-31T11:56:21 | 2013-08-31T09:28:59 | 3,687 | 90 |
[WP] "Why do you think we have a chance against the human race? They purge every galactic nation in their path!" The alien took a deep breath. "We are cute to them." "What?" | The alien commander sat up in his basket and barked out an order. Paws were set in motion throughout the spaceship. A screen loomed up over the console, with a man in the middle of it. He wore a suit with an American flag pinned to its lapel, and had a furrowed brow.
"This is the President of the United States of America. Greetings. Please show yourself and make your requests known."
The alien commander made a series of howls and screeches. His junior rendered them into the Earth language English and sent them through a network especially established for this communication.
"You are demanding the establishment of a treatise--". The president hesitated and glanced at something to his left. The live transmission had begun.
"To establish some treat--. Some treats? Would you like a treat, boy? Who's a good boy?"
The president, momentarily dazed, looked around the room at his advisors and regained his composure.
"The conditions that are being demanded here are frankly outrageous. We will consider them, as they stand, as a declaration of war. We will not take this sit... sit... Sit! Heel! Talk! Gooood boy!"
Again, the man looked confused about his momentary loss of composure. A glass of water was brought to him. He coughed.
"As I was saying, WHO'S A GOOD BOY. YOU ARE. YOU ARE. NO, YOU ARE. YES, YOU. YOU ARE A GOOD BOY. WHAT A GOOD--Jesus!"
He tore himself away from the screen. A hurried counsel took place between some of the most powerful people in the world. The Secretary of Defense was chosen as the next representative, an especially sturdy and curt woman. She sat down in front of the screen and broke almost immediately.
"Well aren't we a pretty boy! Have you been walkies? Let's go walkies. Do you wanna go walkies. Aren't you a GOOD BOY. WHAT A GOOD BOY, YES YOU ARE! YOU CAN HAVE WHATEVER YOU WA--"
The Secretary of the Treasury ran across the room and dump tackled her, and the ministers now found themselves on the floor, discussing the options. The Secretary of Education was the first to suggest a pre-emptive strike. The president and the Secretary of Defense were for capitulating immediately. "You see," they explained, "they are obviously just very, very good boys. Really nice. First prize cutie-pies. Front page of reddit stuff."
The alien commander contemplated the scene and attended the inevitable outcome. Within a few hours, the United States, and then the rest of the world, had agreed to become a colony of the invading power. The invasion had been subtle and long in the making, beginning with the introduction of google and video-sharing services, and content-sharing sites like reddit. These were all funded by aliens, as could be seen, in hindsight, by the logo of the latter and the anti-human business models of the former. They had mollified the brains of humans, leaving them unable to resist cuteness. As soon as the alien commander had received the news, two subordinates hurried forwards to pull his dog suit from him. He turned to face his war room, and whiskers bristled in anticipation of his speech. He opted to keep it short and sweet.
"MIAOW," he said. | "Define cute."
"Attractive or pretty in an endearing way."
The prime minister leaned backwards in his chair, eyeing his security council. Arrays of impressive medals gleamed on their chests, symbols of their mighty struggles.
Using a heavily furred paw, he rubs his eyes. For weeks human ships have warped into their extra-solar mining operations, churning rocks and valuable minerals for planetary processing.
Each time a human ship jumps in, a Kakadu ship goes missing. Expensive men and material simply gone, to be replaced by human equipment days or sometimes hours later.
Intergalactic boogeymen. Conquerors, slavers, genocidal maniacs with cold corporate greed to guide them. Entire races wiped out for their resources, calmly and efficiently. Never a human lost in the battle, just drones. Drones, drones, drones. Perks of an automated military.
Name a planet. Humans own it.
Their ancient ancestors had once called it 'Manifest Destiny', and happened to consider the entire Milky Way their property.
"How do we use this to our advantage?"
Several council members exchange worried gazes, others stare at the floor.
One hands a report, placing it onto the prime minister's desk.
"Our optimal solution is to submit."
Another hands a long leash, bright red.
"Their chairman of the Sputnik Mining Conglomerate has apparently already purchased you as his new 'pet'."
"Define pet."
"An affectionate term for a lesser being."
Here it comes.
Subservience or death.
Struggle or be ground into dust, but such was the way of life.
The prime minister hangs his head low, crushed by the futility of it all.
"Let the humans take us, then."
He hobbles to the window, short legs accustomed to a heavier gravity.
Quietly a council member sneezes, the force knocking him onto his bottom.
In the distance, the distinctive roar of ships warping into orbit.
They've come for the home world at last.
Oblong objects float menacingly above, establishing planetary orbit.
Billions of black dots swarm the sky.
The drones.
Holograms project across the clouds.
*Do not be afraid.*
*Do not resist.*
He wonders how many orbital defense cannons will blast, but knows they'll be silent within hours.
*Do not be afraid*
*Do not resist*
A supreme irony, that a conquering species neglects to even send an actual specimen to their subservient worlds.
*Do not be afraid*
*Do not resist.*
Almost beautiful, the clouds of drones.
Each one to scoop up a citizen and take him somewhere far from his home.
More human ships warping into orbit, the sonic blasts creating a cacophony.
*God help us all,* thinks the prime minister. A silent and futile prayer.
He belches slightly, ruffling fluffy ears.
God help them indeed.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/storiesfromapotato
| 2017-12-19T07:06:49 | 2017-12-19T07:01:50 | 2,831 | 256 |
[WP] After dying, you found yourself staring at a large screen. "LOBBY. Current players: 7,383,275,800. Current game time: 1059040375.2 mins. Current spectarors: 21,458,374,931. Player rank: 2,648,535,901. Time until next game: 23695624.8 mins" | A whirring sound gradually filled my ears as the 'GAME OVER' marquee scrolled across the top of my HUD. "*Statistics*", I muttered, reaching blindly around for my beverage. Words flitted across my screen filling all of the empty space. "*Next-Round*", all of the text from before vanished as the respawn timer filled the screen.
>Time until Respawn: 23695624.8 minutes
I sighed, "What the fuck is this!". "*Connect to server chat*", I yelled into the microphone of my VR-helmet.
>Connecting to...'EARTH -- Human SERVER #2360 CHAT' ...
....
.....
.......
CONNECTED!
"Does anyone know the reason for this ridiculous respawn time?", I asked, "I didn't break any of the server rules!". I could hear a few muffled laughs from the others in the chat. "Is this your first play-through on the Human servers?", someone asked, "these servers don't really have any rules..just more of a set of guidelines." I thought for a few seconds trying to recall whether or not I had previously played on these servers. "No, I've definitely played on these servers before, but this is my longest play-through. I didn't make it to very high levels in my other sessions.", I tried to explain. A different person chimed in sounding as though they were suppressing their laughter, "I'm guessing you didn't read the latest patch notes for these servers before you joined your last match, huh?"
I sighed. No, of course not. I hardly ever read the patch notes and then unsurprisingly get pissed off at the game changes I didn't realize were coming. "*Patch Notes*!", I said somewhat begrudgingly. Text once again flitted cross my screen. I scrolled passed most of the bug fixes until I found the 'Game-Play Changes' section.
>"....changes made to **player respawn time**: "Player respawn-timer now solely comes from **-KARMA** rating of last play-through."
"Oh, fuck me!" I yelled, ripping off my VR-Helmet.
| Current Players: 7,383,275,800
Server Uptime: 1059040375.2 mins
Spectators: 21,458,374,931
Player Rank: 2,648,535,901
Time Until Respawn: 23695624.8 mins
People are always afraid of death. The unknown. "What happens to me?" they ask. "Do we have a soul? Is there a hell? Are there angels? Will I see my parents again?"
If they only knew how mundane it really was.
This. This screen is all you get. Your entire existence becomes this one illuminated screen for you to stare at.
"Staring" is the wrong word even, because you aren't looking at anything. You have no eyes. It's simply... awareness. Awareness of the information. It's literally inside of you.
No hunger. No tiredness. No biological functions. So as the timer ticks down, continuously, and you just... wait.
There's nothing else to do, literally. As you wait, the shapes and sounds of the last life fade. You start to think things like, "Did I have a cat? Maybe it was a dog. What is that I am holding? A hammer or an axe? I know I had children... but how many?"
And by the time you respawn, you remember literally nothing. Not even this place.
Time Until Respawn: 23695623.9 mins
Welcome to the After Life.
| 2015-11-25T01:06:36 | 2015-11-25T00:00:43 | 46 | 27 |
[WP] You have the power to see the exact time anyone has left before they die, but not how they will die. One day a girl walks by, who has only three minutes left. | Drake watched his patient die.
Death is loosely defined. Before heart surgery and paddles, if your heart stopped, you were dead. Now you can be brought back after your heart stops, and go on to live a full life.
Now death is defined as brain death. If humanity figures out a way to better heal damaged brains, the line will shift again.
Drake had seen the time run out on people and brought them back with paddles. His timer sense glitched after that. He had no idea how much time they had left.
Drake had seen people with insanely high numbers - hundreds of years. Less than five had numbered in the thousands. He had always wanted to ask those people how they did it, but figured it would be too difficult to explain what he was asking.
Most of the time, Drake saw people with lifespans measured in hours or days. He worked in a military field hospital, the place he figured he could put his talent to best use.
Death was loosely defined, but knowing the time left gave him a sense of who to save and who to abandon. If it was hours and paddles were unlikely to help them, he moved on to other patients.
A few times, the patient had seemed perfectly healthy, but they only had a few days. He ran tests on those, and if they came back negative, he recommended bed rest until after the time listed, on the theory that they would have died in battle.
When they listened, they lived. If they ignored his instructions and headed back to the front, they died. That reputation spread after a few demonstrations. After that, they listened when he said bed rest. No one knew how he did it, but that was no reason not to acknowledge the truth. Superstition was rife among them and they would take any good luck charm someone offered.
If the time left was seconds and they weren’t good candidates for defib, he watched them die. He was always looking for a spark of recognition or a transition. Drake had a gift, and believed that the other side existed. He didn’t want to go into it without preparation.
He never saw anything.
Drake exited the medical tent, removing bloody gloves and putting them in the trash bin marked toxic.Drake was six feet tall and wore a white labcoat over Army fatigues.
He was walking back toward his own tent when he froze. Three minutes, the lowest number he’d ever seen.
He ran to the woman. “Miss, you’re about to have a heart attack!” He tugged at the lab coat, pulling it up for added credibility of the street diagnosis.
The woman was 5’10, in phenomenal shape, and had a confused look on her face.
“My blood pressure is fine. What’s got you worked up today?”
She kept walking, choosing not to engage further when he didn’t have a ready response.
Drake followed her. He had to at least try.
Then, as they moved into a larger group of people, he saw their numbers. All of them were under three minutes, and counting down steadily.
What the hell? Were their rations poisoned?
Then he looked at the sky.
Drake knew when to push to save someone, and when to let it go. When he said to himself that he had no way to stop an air strike in less than two minutes, he wasn’t exaggerating.
He spent his last moments remembering the faces of those he had watched die, and hoping that there would be more when it was his turn.
A few minutes later, it was.
______________________________________________________
41/365. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated. | "Well... this has been delightful, Milady. But I'm afraid the fun is now over."
“Yes... I suppose it is.”
Two voices echoed from beyond the sealed doors. The former of a boy, the latter of a girl.
I was seated on the only piece of furniture in the spacious room. A chair— one quite overly flashy, but one most comfortable. Any less would be unfitting for myself, the—
*BOOM*
The doors busted open with an explosion, and the owners of those two voices emerged from the dust. A boy and a girl, donning full-plate suits of armor in shining silver.
Hmph, what are even manners? And they call themselves Knights of the Kingdom— Or perhaps I had sealed the doors too tightly?
...Anyhow, I’ve always had this power— The power to see the time that one has left in this world. I had made it a point to use it on all who dared enter my room.
Well then, let’s see...
The boy, sixty years, nine months, four days, sixteen hours, five minutes, thirty three seconds. Hmm, good for him, good for him indeed.
The girl, three minutes, zero seconds... How unfortunate.
As for myself, one thousand six hundred years, one month, five days, ten hours, twelve minutes, four seconds. Still consistent.
Surely, it suggested that I will live through the encounter, which I did indeed, however—
“Begone!”
“Warrrrgh!?”
Before I could do anything else, I felt myself being sucked in by an overwhelming force.
And then there was nothing.
Not for another one thousand five hundred years.
***
It was a total surprise. Just as I prepared for battle, Milady had suddenly cast a spell, banishing our adversary in an instant. I don’t know how she did it, but now, the people will surely—
*THUD*
“Milady!?”
She collapsed, right on the spot.
“Heh... Got’im. That bastard won’t bother us for some time...”
“Wait... a Banishing Spell!? B-but that’s—!”
“Hey, what’s that look for, Boy? Don’t worry... It’ll be all right...”
“Of course it’s not! You used up your life force on that spell, didn’t you! You’re—“
“Not another word, Boy. Not. Another. Word.”
“......”
“Heh... But really... I’m glad... To have met you... It’s been fun... Thank you... For everything...”
“......”
Victory was ours. At the cost of Milady— My life’s benefactor, and my only friend... Surely, it was quite an insignificant price for the world to pay. But to me, it was like sacrificing another half of my being.
And despite that, the Dark Lord will return. Perhaps in a year, perhaps in a millennium. No one knows. But to me, it never mattered.
Those three minutes— The last minutes I spent with her— They felt longer than even an eternity. | 2018-02-10T22:09:18 | 2018-02-10T19:55:40 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] The Universe™ has just run out of free trial meaning we are being downgraded from Universe™ pro to Universe™ lite. | It all happened so quickly. The darkness became darker. Nebulae, Galaxies, Stars, everything just disappeared. Our Sun was lucky. All planets excluding Mars and Earth were not.
All wars immediately ceased. Every Nation focused all of their efforts on figuring out just why the hell everything disappeared. Research of the stars increased tenfold, simply because we could focus our efforts on the few that remained.
Mankind experienced a Golden Age for the first few decades. We accepted what had happened, and focused our efforts closer to home. Everything was good.
Until the first Parcel.
A monolithic structure, over 15,000 feet tall, and twice as wide appeared over the Atlantic. Completely flat and rectangular, except for a disc carved into one face, like a button.
It took 6 months for any scientist to deduce what to do with it. It was scanned with every technology we had. Teams were sent across every inch of the thing. Projectiles of all size and caliber were fired at it. Nobody knew how to operate it.
One scientist was at his wit's end, driven mad by the endless dead ends.
He walked into the disc with a pistol and a bullet in hand.
As he hit the ground, there was a low rumble. The disc rotated, and the top half of the structure opened.
A voice rang out from within,
"Congratulations, humanity. You have unlocked GNC-1164. A new box will be on its way soon! To open it, follow the same procedure as you did with this one! Soon you'll unlock all of the locked content for The Universe™️.
You might find this unfair, but we wanted to give you a sense of pride and accomplishment." | I knew something was up when the clouds spelled something about changing privacy policies but i didnt know things would be this bad. This wasnt something that could be easily be solved and my god was this laggy. I was about to get mugged but i refused to give him money and as soon as he pulled the trigger a message popped up in front of us “only Universe Pro users have access to this feature” i guess i was saved. Apparently Universe Pro had less natural disasters and higher chances to live, a tornado appeared and i ran to the basement as soon as i could but i rubber-banded and was hitting a wall so rip me i guess. I see the light and reached the gates of heaven but i heard another message “only Universe Pro users have access to this add-on.” I fell back down to earth forced to live my life as a ghost but thats not even fun since Lite users have rules as a ghost. Ghost cant be in the same room as humans unless allowed, If a ghost touches a human that body part will vanish and we can never rest. Well at the very least my privacy will be protected. | 2018-05-28T09:23:40 | 2018-05-28T07:43:24 | 84 | 13 |
[WP] In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war. | Admiral Joseph Nakamura looked over his fleet with trepidation. They were outnumbered 10 to 1. The quickly cobbled together international space force (ISF) was a miracle of humanity's ability to come together in a crisis.
In 2048 the Borxite had made themselves known to Earth by beginning a roughly 3 minute orbital bombardment of Tokyo, New York City, and Brussels. They then deployed drones which had a clear roughly 53 month countdown over every major city on Earth. The Borxite then fled using some kind of faster than light travel involved a subspace detonation. The drones every 83 hours would display a holographic message which gave us what little we knew.
Humanity immediately began to panic until three days after a dozen major governments agreed to an international deal to combine forces to study these drones and to at least show the Borxite what humanity was made of. Every major government joined within 72 hours.
Admiral Nakamura was chosen to head the force. He surveyed his fleet. He had 27 ships under his command made from the best technology humanity could cobble together from reverse engineering a dozen of the Borxite drones as well as the imaginations of engineers finally unleashed without ethical or budgetary limitations.
Of course not everything went according to plan. The ISF made the foolish decision to leave the naming of his flagship to social media. The ISF Godzilla was an intimidating ship built into a small asteroid and bristling with plasma projectors, nuclear missile launchers, railguns, and heatsinks.
Trepidation aside it was time to fight.
The Borxite moved forward in what could only be described as a parade formation. It was beautiful in it's own way, maximizing the profile of each ship displayed to the enemy.
Nakamura turned to Captain Singh, the captain of the Godzillan in disbelief.
"Mohammed, is your ship ready for combat."
Doing his best to look confident Captain Singh responded "The ISF Godzilla is ready for your command Admiral".
Nakamura turned his comm to the Planet-wide Channel.
"FOR TOKYO! FOR NEW YORK! FOR BRUSSELS! FOR EARTH! All ships engage!"
Ten hours later Nakamura wiped blood from his eyes where he had been manning the communications panel and looked around. The bridge was on fire in three places, half the crew was dead, and the ISF was down to only 7 ships remaining.
But they had won.
The Borxite fought with flashing techniques like a military version of peacocks. Strutting about. Their ships had giant laser weapons but only 2 usually per ship. The smallest of the ISF ships had carried a railgun and six nuclear missiles.
The last 3 Borxite vessels were limping away at an obviously crippled speed.
"Nakamura to all remaining ISF vessels, earth and Borxite Invaders. Let the last enemy flee. Let them know the consequences of messing with humanity. Also let them know: next time, Earth is protected by Godzilla."
The cheers drowned out any other responses as Admiral Nakamura passed out from exhaustion.
https://www.reddit.com/r/BalrogTheBuff/comments/fn09x5/admiral_nakamura_and_the_defense_of_earth/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x | My team moved into position, Everyone in full cover, in a firing line. Mortar cannons, BFG 10000s enough firepower to make the entirety of america say "nice" in unison all pointed at a singular 100 meter by 100 meter patch of space.
And then the music started...
A few months ago, first contact was made, a small scared little thing that warned the world that a threat was coming, and it brought proof. Recordings of the fleet in battle, they would shine their lights, play their songs, point their guns and wait for the target to surrender.
Every time they never actually fired their weapons, we all assumed that they had such a reputation that they didn't need to. That was until we did our own scouting. With how gaudy their whole race was we were able to easily sneak in and gather intel. The spies came back laughing.
"They're completely fucking hollow mate!" they wheezed out between strained, hearty laughs.
"No no there isn't a weapon in ANY of those turrets I checked, here's the pictures if you don't believe me" One of the spies managed to squeeze out between fits of laughter.
He was right.
So that brings us to today, these pompous smug bastards would get what's coming to them.
Their leader and his *Sigh...* *accompanying orchestra of 100* Descends from their tacky golden ships that looked more like cruise ships then anything fit for interstellar travel.
They tap their scepter on the ground and take a breath in ready to proclaim this world as their own. Only to have the percent amount of projectiles currently occupying their bodies to rise higher then the average core temp of a star going supernove counted in kelvin.
&#x200B;
A few weeks later we started receiving transmissions from several other races, all formerly enslaved by our newly defeated enemies turned sycophantic worshipers. Honestly it's kind of disturbing we're trying to educate them on the whole "basic human decency" thing but it's not going well. We might have to try adopting the children out to human families soon... Oh right the transmissions
The transmissions were mostly of praise and thanks, though some tried to act tough, we've yet to receive a message back after we sent them a video of the slaughter.
The more peaceful races we invited to Earth as guests, they actually helped us alot with managing planet wide food production, more just making REALLY efficient transport systems that don't destroy produce during the trip.
But yeah I think that's everything bye for now son, hope this helps with your history project. Best put my name and such for if this changelog ever becomes a historical document.
Signed - Sir Jarreth Playnar, FORMER lieutenant of the Aetharan army, founder and current owner of Playnar Home Entertainments. | 2020-03-21T12:44:48 | 2020-03-21T10:24:14 | 38 | 22 |
[WP] You put your 5-year-old daughter in an elevator by herself, and run to the next floor to make her laugh when the doors open. You get there, the elevator arrives and a 20-year-old woman steps out. "Hello Dad. We have a lot to talk about" | "Daddy... I'm scared"
"It's okay, baby. It's a magic trick!"
"Ma... Magic?"
"It's fun! I'm here now, I disappear, and I come back! Okay?" Bruce said as he held the door and brushed the damp cheeks of his little girl.
"Okay–"
With a ring of a bell, the doors to the lift slid shut. The sound of the lift being pulled up and the faint crying of a little girl in a distance ensued. Bruce simply chuckled to himself as he thought about surprising his daughter. The thought of her half crying and half excited was the only thing that he'd expected.
Thus, he ran upstairs in a speed of light. His excitement barely numbed the cramps he felt on his legs. It's been a while since he last did any running yet he took it like a champ.
*I bet Katy would nag me about this for a while...* He thought as he catch his breath in front of the lift.
Another ring of a bell echoed and the door slid open slowly. A cloud of smoke blew past Bruce and he could barely see into the lift. He heard faint crying from within the lift, of course Katy *did* cry when the lift first closed. Yet somehow he felt something odd had occurred.
"Katy...?" Bruce squinted as he stepped forth to block the doors from closing with his hand.
"..."
"Are you okay, baby?"
"You left me, dad. I can't believe you did that!" A familiar yet distant voice caught Bruce off guard.
"I-I'm sorry, Katy– Wait, what?" as the smoke dissipated, he saw a grown woman in her 20s, dressed in the same sundress as her little daughter was.
The woman had the same complexity as Katy. He could see *some* resemblance as the woman looked him in the eyes. She then stepped forward to exit the lift. As she did this, Bruce took a few steps back.
*Who is this woman? Where the hell is Katy?!*
"E-Excuse me, miss. Did you see my daughter? She's a... I played a dumb prank on her. I, uh–"
"Dad! Unbelievable," the woman then hugged him tightly.
"Katy?"
"Don't do that again... I seriously thought I lost you, you know!"
"I guess my magical power was too much, huh?"
"It was a prank, you said it yourself. I can't believe I almost fell for it."
Bruce then walked away with the grown-up Katy hand-in-hand beside him. They laughed and talked, seemingly as if everything was normal. Bruce couldn't help but think how odd the situation he was in. He thought this woman still wasn't his daughter, but his parental instinct reassured him.
"What's the matter, dad?"
"Nothing. I'm just confused, that's all."
As he said this, he caught a glimpse of a reflection on a mirror on the wall.
*That's odd.* He thought to the bizarre sight.
He saw a young adult woman holding the hands of an older man with grey hair. Blood drained from his face as he began to shake his head off. If this was a bad dream, he would love to be awaken from it.
Edit: inconsistent use of pronouns, credit to u/ComputerBuild1 | [**Part 2**](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/d14q7w/the_stairwell_part_2/)
“Ready Abigail? One… Two… Three!” I said as the doors slowly shut. She stood in her plain red dress bouncing slightly in excitement - we always did this she would ride up and I would sprint up the stairs to try and beat her there.
“Three!” she shrieked as it finished shutting, I caught a last glimpse of her dark curls.
I turned on my toes and sprinted as fast as I could. She was going up three stories - difficult but I’d done it before.
I made it to the end of the hallway and threw the door open behind me. I heard it clatter against the wall and knew Mrs. Walker would give me an earful when we left but it was worth it.
I was at the first landing. My heart was racing, not from exertion - yet - but from excitement. Knowing the look that would cross Abby’s face whether I got there first or not.
The second floor wasn’t as easy I could feel the sweat trickling down my temples, my face flush. She would probably win this one, I’d only won once here.
The thrid landing was in sight. I was leaning heavily on the railing now. Had I been alone I would have rested for a moment. But no, I had to be there for Abby when the doors opened. The last stair seemed to last an extra long heartbeat, and then I was at my stop.
Grabbing the handle I flung this door open too.
My eye’s flickered to the sides of the hall where the sconces burned low - I would have to let maintenance know, it was a tripping hazard.
Door after door flashed by, and I heard the ding of the elevator just as I reached the doorway.
Huh. Wow. I had done it! I leaned casually on the frame, my heart beating frantically, a goofy grin plastered to my face. Abby’s giggles already rang in my ears but I couldn’t wait to see her face.
The second ding of the doors as they parted made me straighten just a bit.
Then the door opened, a tall dark haired young woman, maybe in her late teens or early twenties stood there.
Alone.
Grin fading I straightened.
Abby - where was my Abigail.
Even as her name formed on my lips, just a breath away from being spoken the woman looked me in the eye and sighed.
"Hello Dad. We have a lot to talk about"
[**Part 2**](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/d14q7w/the_stairwell_part_2/)
\---
For more by me r/LandOfMisfits
For more by me and others r/redditserials | 2019-09-07T18:29:23 | 2019-09-07T17:12:52 | 792 | 202 |
[WP] You start blacking out constantly when drinking, every time you come to, you find a paper written by yourself 100% disproving fundamental theories. | As l woke up from a night of drinking, I look at my clock as it ticks away, louder and louder.
The pounding headache, dry lips, and sensitivity to light. All effects of a hangover. But last night was great. It had everything, from booze, babes, and blacking out.
As I retrieved my phone, I see 8 missed calls, 14 texts, and 1,468,000 retweets.
"What the hell did I write?"
As I open the app, I see the multiple retweets. I read each one, saying the same thing. Over and over again.
Some people replied, asking how can this be true? How did I come up with this? How could we have gone this long, and not realize the truth?
In my drunken state, I managed to solve a theory that will change the way we live forever.
The message I wrote, was shared across the internet for all to see, and be discussed by every one. People from around the world agreed with me, others thought I was crazy.
Then it dawns on me, and everything begins to fade to black. I feel as if I am blacking out, yet I am awake. My message is becoming a reality. What I wrote, is changing everyone. I need to see if this is true.
I run to the restroom, turn on the lights. I try to see my self, but it all goes dark. They are gone. I have lost my eyes. They are no longer a part of me.
All because I wrote;
"How Can Mirrors Be Real If Our Eyes Aren't Real."
Edit: capitalization and added more to the story.
Also, this is my first writing Prompt. Please be gentle. | I awoke at my station in the scriptorium and attempted to stretch my arms as I always do; the chains make it so I can't get any further than the pages. My head was pounding, my wrist was aching, I tilted just the wrong way to the right so the feeding pipe sent a sharp pain on the roof of my mouth. Another day at work.
"Ah, good morning. Let's see what we have today..." My present superior, Nicholaus, picked up the stack of papers. "De revolutionibus orbium coelestium. My, my, busy night." I suppose the sun is the center of the universe. What wonders my mind can come up with when it's at its most poisoned.
"Nicely done. We'll see what my contemporaries have to say about this. Wonderful knowing you." Nicholaus Copernicus passed the chamber's overseer on his way out. My sole candle was re-lit as he began to turn the crank, allowing stale wine to creep through the pipe and into my esophagus, one small drop at a time. This would continue until I was intoxicated. I dipped the quill in ink and prepared to write, as I had for centuries, and as I would for centuries to come.
I awoke to a start. "The Theory of Relativity." | 2015-01-31T11:27:49 | 2015-01-31T11:04:46 | 311 | 38 |
[WP] In a world where lying doesn't exist, you are the worst supervillain: Technically True Man. | The sun sat low on the horizon in scattered shades of red and gold. Our neighbourhood quiet and empty, as was a usual Thursday night, as my family sat on the long couch huddled up in our blankets watching The Simpsons. That was when the screen cut out to the increasingly familiar grey panel background adorned with government logo when a female automated voice echoed out "Your regular veiwing schedule has been interrupted for an emergency broadcast ". Before the screen faded out our national news anchors we knew it could only be one thing.
A young blonde woman in a grey suit began, "Technically True Man has struck again in what may be the largest scale disruption of the modern era. He has spread propaganda about multiple cities through fliers, newspaper adverts and an illegal radio broadcast that the government is now supplying a free room, food and facilities for life to all citizens who wish to avail of the offer by committing murder and arson". My wife, Miranda, gasped at the screen before shock was replaced by confusion and her hand went to a familiar spot on the back of her neck, "It has to be true, right James?". Ever since the chips were installed in all registered civillians to stop all lying completely people could take the word of anyone without question as gospel. The anchor continued, "those who are participating in these actions are being removed as fast as possible and are being placed in high security reformation facilities but police are struggling to contain the outbreak of mass murder."
Miranda chimed up again, "this has got to be his worst one yet... Remember when he told everyone that 100% of non-smokers die? Millions of people began chain smoking en mass. Or when he spread the rumours that you could live the rest of your life underwater without breathing? So many people drowned." I pulled her in close and held her tightly as I sent the kids off to bed.
"It is awful... But maybe something needs to be done about the way people are controlled now, maybe he's just the way to spark up that conversation?", I said.
"You sound like your a sympathizer..."
"Not at all, but it is kind of clever. They can't prosecute him because he isn't lying. The chip isn't sending any alarms out. Plus I heard he invested in tobacco stocks which shot through the roof after the smoking stunt."
"How would you know something like that James? Are you the one responsible for this?!"
"That's not... technically true.", I said. "Not one." | Who knew taking over a country could be so goddamn easy? I mean all I had to do was sound good and people would just go with it. As long as I kept it vague and simple all the pieces would fall right into place.
My political opponents being an issue? Not at all. Just go up to the crowd and say "We don't know what could be in those emails. She could be conspiring against us for all we know."
Technically I wasn't lying. She could be a 7 foot dinosaur wearing a human skin suit and we wouldn't know for sure. It's not lying to suggest something that can't be proven.
People are saying my hands and penis are small? I tell them to "trust me" and that "there's no problem down there!"
As long as I don't acknowledge that my hands are small, I can imply that they aren't. And I mean yeah, technically there wasn't anything wrong down there. There's nothing wrong about having a micro penis.
But this was all child's play. Now that I was president it was time to move on to my grand plan. It was time to begin construction of my dooms day device.
First I needed a scapegoat who could provide me a reason to build it, and who better than the Mexicans to fit that role. All I needed to do was throw one of my great tantrums about how "some of them are evil and are hurting are country!"
Honestly I was a little surprised at how quickly my country fell for this. Maybe they just wanted someone to blame for their mistakes. It sure is easier to ignore the cold hard truth anyways.
With construction under way everything was going according to plan. Soon my dooms day device would be complete. A weapon of mass construction and as I told the roaring crowds of hate and complicity, it would "CHANGE AMERICA AS WE KNOW IT!"
| 2018-10-23T06:55:48 | 2018-10-23T06:36:28 | 338 | 31 |
[WP]You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.
Inspired by *The Merchant Adventurer*, by Patrick E. McLean.
EDIT: Wow, thanks everyone that contributed! The awesome Patrick E. McLean (/u/patrickemclean) stopped by, gave a snippet from his book in a comment, and even gave us a link to listen to *The Merchant Adventurer* as an audiobook:
>Okay, a bit unusual, but since I wrote the book that inspired this writing prompt, Here's mine. The Merchant Adventure is available as a free audiobook if you want the whole thing: http://podiobooks.com/title/the-merchant-adventurer/ | First day open for business! After years of saving up and working as a blacksmith apprentice, I have finally been able to open my own armors and weapons shop. Ever since I was a young boy, I have heard so many grand stories of heroes and adventurers from travelling merchants, now finally I too can become a stop on their story. As my gaze swept the room one final time, it lingered on each piece of equipment on display. Each sword, dagger, plate, and everything in between I made with my own hands. I still had much to learn but many long nights were spent toiling away at each piece, sharpening to my utmost ability, pounding away with all my might. Adventurers will be able to rely on me, my creations will lead them through danger and hell. I inhaled the smell of fresh wood and polished metal lingering in the room and settled down behind the counter.
The door slammed open drowning out the little bell that rang feebly in comparison. A lean tall man strolled in and judging by his armor he was a knight, and a magnificent one. His armor was gleaming a deep onyx black with sharp horns and jagged edges along the greaves and gauntlets. His helm in the crook of his hand was sinister with what looked to be dragon horns decorating it. There was a faint violet glow surrounding him pulsating with wisps of light flickering off. A magic set. With him was a large leather sack bulging to the brim with items carried easily over his shoulder. He glanced at my wares with what could only be a deep look of distaste and boredom before coming in front of me.
“What town is this shop keep?”
“This is the village of Dalry along the Whispering Rill. How can I help you today sir knight?”
The knight sighed audibly before pulling out his map, ignoring the question. He scanned the map for a moment before putting it away.
“Last time I get black-out drunk without teleportation stones. Tell me, do you know the way to Torpin Fortress?”
“Ah, you are a long ways off your course. It would be a 4 days walk north past The Granite Chasm. I must warn you, the warlock that- “
“Yeah yeah, terrible power this, forbidden magic that.”
He brushed off my heed with a gesture and swung his bag down with a crash on the counter. Out spilled brilliant gems, swords, and heads of magnificent beasts. I have never seen such rare items before. Strangely enough there were large amounts of rusty silverware and plates present too.
“How much can you give me for this?”
“Sir knight I must apologize, my shop is still fairly new. I have but 100 gold to my name and could not possibly- “
“I’ll take it.”
“Wait wha- “
The knight casually shoved the bag towards me causing it to spill its’ contents all over the floor behind the counter. I hesitantly opened my drawer and gathered up all the coins I had left. He snatched them from my hands and dropped them into his bulging coin pouch where I could see glimpses of platinum.
SLAM
He was gone as fast as he came. There I stood dumb-founded before slowly cleaning up. I had gotten an incredible deal and would be able to make a fortune on what he brought in. Yet I was not filled with joy. I had dreamt of the kind of encounters I would have, the kind of people I would meet. But for that adventurer I was not even a person. My wares did not gleam as brightly as first thought. Looking at them again, I could see minor chipped edges, dull tips, and imperfections in my work. Perhaps it was still too soon for me to think I could provide anything useful at all. The tinkling of the bell caught me by surprise and I looked up abruptly.
A young boy was peeking in through the door. When he caught my gaze, he slowly walked in and stood reservedly at the front. Clutched tightly in his hand was a slip of paper, what looked to be from the town’s notice board. He started to speak but was stumbling over his words before taking a deep breath and exhale. He stood up straight and puffed out his chest with a determined look in his eyes.
“The tailor has given me a task to kill rats. I am in need of a weapon, shop keep!”
A smile came to my lips as I walked over to him. We always did have a bit of an infestation problem to the west of our village, and it always drove that old tailor crazy. I knelt down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. He was thin but had the muscles of a farmer. His dirty blonde hair was cut short, and freckles dotted his face molded in an expression of feigned bravado.
“Of course young adventurer. What can I get you?”
His expression changed to that of doubt and nervousness. He pulled out a few silver pieces and laid them out on a palm for me to see not wanting to meet my gaze any longer.
“I do not have much… but I promise you I will pay you back ten-fold when I become a hero!”
His eyes filled with fire and determination though his trembling mouth gave him away. I took the silver pieces from his hands and stood up. Walking over to the nearest dagger, I took it off the pegs which I admit was not my best work. His eyes widened, filled with awe, as I brought it closer for him to hold.
“Come traveler, let me show you my wares.”
| The shop belonging to my family has been nestled in the "cozy" side of the Haunted Wood of El Degeneres for upwards of 700 years now. *683* years to be exact. We barter and trade in all manner of magic, non-magic, cursed, sentient, and otherwise valuable goods.
I say "cozy" because it is the part of the forest in which your soul isn't in danger of being torn apart by wayward storms of dark magic.
Thank you for making your way to '*Permanently Open*', I know the journey must have been rough. May I interest you in some... *ugh* I can't even finish the sentence without rolling my eyes.
May I interest you in some *cucumber water*?
The youngsters of the family are on some new kick about supplying fresh *food* and *drink* to our customers. In my adventuring days you had your Lembas bread, and you had water you summoned from the Aqua Plane or you drank from a ditch. We didn't offer *artisanal* holy water for priests, nor organic *grass* for minotaurs, and we sure as hell didn't offer *BAKED GOODS*.
My families kids from this centuries lineage travel a lot. They've brought back many of the customs from the world outside, and I can't help but wonder to myself what kind of insane changes have taken place in *the real world*.
I have been running this shop for 638 years and I know every product we've ever seen walk into or out of that front door, *and a few products which left out the back*. My old man managed to lose me in the woods one day after the 40th time Ma told him not to lose me in the woods again. I fell into a pond after getting lost which ended up cursing me and now I cannot die - *as long as I don't leave the forest*.
I was cold, wet, and had lost all my color after pops found me doing my best impression of a plank in the pond. He scooped me up and made for the edge of the forest as quickly as he could, fearing for my life. When we neared a part of the boundary on the perimeter of a clearing and began to step into the sunlight the woods around us began to creak and howl and scream.
Pa says my body started to convulse and shadows began leaking out of my mouth. Startled, he stumbled a few steps back which caused the woods to chill out and the shadows to claw their way back into my body. He took the long way around.
Around six centuries later I am still alive, Pa is dead, Mom took off with a Shadow Warlock and lives somewhere in the Twisting Void *(shes doing well for those who are wondering)* and I stand inside the shop built by my father and I out of the forest that cursed me.
Our prices are decent as well. I have had several families over the years and I am lucky enough to be able to monitor the market prices on valuable magic and mighty steel. It's a bit harder to price out the rarer items such as pixie dust and cultist toenails as I have to go and harvest them myself and our shop is one of the few who supply them on a regular basis.
The inside of '*Permanently Open*' looks like a musty old library had a child with an Apple store and then that child came out as a Yogurt addict and installed a Fro-Yo bar.
As much as I deride most of the changes the little ones bring before me for the shop it's hard to say no to them. Coming into a line of family members who've all left their mark on the shop, they feel that they need to leave one themselves.
I am not sure a *dirt bike rental* was the best choice for installation by my great-great-great-great-great-great granddaughters kid, but she listens to my stories so I let her have it unlike her brothers idea for a *vape lounge*. What the hell even is a *vape lounge*? That kid is such a tool.
Over the years the shop has evolved from a quaint three room *(armor, weapons, magic)* to the largest single stop shop in the world, and the second most profitable. The most profitable shop in the world is a dingy little booth ran by a gnome who sells shiny gold *shit* to goblins in exchange for valuable gems. Those goblins will buy *anything* if it has the stink of gold on it, which is easy to achieve for a little rat alchemist like him. That's a trade secret between you and I, traveler. He still comes to my Christmas parties.
But that's the general gist of how '*Permanently Open*' was created, and why you can buy *+5 Plate Armor* in the same place you can buy cultist toenails, upgrade your cellphone, or check out our out-door out-of-my-sight *Vape Lounge*.
Edit: Repetition | 2016-10-16T10:00:13 | 2016-10-16T09:01:43 | 999 | 190 |
[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.”
| I run through the towering white doors, persisting to fulfill my life, to live with the one I love, Elaine.
My feet carry to me to the center of the room, and then force themselves into position. "I object!" my voice bellows.
Though, I realize where my persitence has brought me. Everyone in the room looked at me, bemused, questioning my existence in this place. My eyes flicked around at everyone, and towards the front, where the casket laid. I was standing in the midst of a funeral.
"You may leave now," the preacher called from his podium. His voice tapered a bit, did he know the person in the casket. He looked famliar.
"I'm so sorry... really, I am," I said. Then the realization occured: it was my uncle. My uncle was the preacher. Had he not recognized me?
"You're apologies are appreciated, but please, this is a time of doleful grievances."
I retreated to the safety of outside, when suddenly, as my hand planted on the door, a gasp resonated from the audience. I look over my shoulder, only to see the deceased rise from the back of the room. My jaw dropped, and a tear came to my eye. "Dad?" | 2018-03-17T14:29:31 | 2018-03-17T12:44:46 | 41 | 23 |
[WP] At the age of 18, every person develops a magical power. Yours is the power to fluently read and speak every language in the universe. At first you thought the had the worst power on earth, that was until you you realise that the universe has it's own language.
Sorry for the double you, my bad | They say that when everyone is special, no one is special. *Not true,* I used to say. Look at the most powerful heroes of the generation - X-Zero, Crowstorm, Magenta...all of them exceptions even among the exceptional, with abilities that seem to defy the laws of physics.
My power was ordinary among extraordinary. "My condolences," said the Coordinator, when the silver screen finished processing my activated DNA and displayed my ability. "It's a C-tier ability at best, but hey - I've known great translators who went on to do great things. Diplomatic services, and the like."
Mom and Dad weren't as worried, but that was even worse. "You don't need to achieve much in life, Sally," Dad said. "Just keep by the straight and narrow and earn an honest living."
"Your Dad and I did that, and we're away from all the danger," Mom added. "Look at those crazy loons fighting each other, warring over who knows what. Let them kill each other, I say."
*No,* said a part of me. It wasn't until a few years later, when I was acting as a desk translator for a nameless startup that I realized something very important.
*You finally figured it out,* inner-me said. *Your ability helps you communicate with me, your unconscious mind as well. Isn't that something?*
*Not everyone can do this?* I asked. *Isn't the unconscious mind just a part of you?*
*It is, but most people can't hear us like you can. We can talk with ourselves whenever we want.*
I blinked. *That barely made sense, but okay. Let's work through it together.*
And so I...or we, rather, quit our dead-end job and started traveling. We entered a buddhist monastery and learned from schools of thought who had tapped into their inner selves.
I was meditating on a mountain when both me and inner came alive. It was like molten lava running through our veins as a whisper entered our ears and crackled through all synapses firing like lightning. That made no sense. That made perfect sense.
The voice of the universe.
It was the rumbling in the creek, the sibilant hiss of the wind, the yawn of the rising sun and the mournful howl of the coming dusk. We spoke to it, as one, and it spoke back.
*Beauty lies in everything,* it said. *But what meaning does beauty have if there is no one left to appreciate? You must stop the Calamity.*
*What is the Calamity?* I asked alongside inner-me. *And how can we stop it?*
There was no answer, but as we sat there and meditated in the midst of leafy bamboo, on a high peak clothed in wreaths of fog, I listened. And I *understood*.
"Check this out, inner," I muttered under my breath. Raising my palm, I spoke to the wind.
It spoke back.
---
Thanks for reading! Come hang out with me at [/r/Remyxed](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/), we'd love to see you around :) | The Great Dragoman stared out at a galaxy of stars cocooning the balcony, the silence a perfect tenor to his mood. Deep in the back of his mind came an incessant whisper, his mental shield blocking out the madness of the cosmos.
"My Lord," a voice whispered behind him. The Dragoman turned to see his servant Vulnir kneeling respectfully before him.
"The Last Alliance are moments away. They will destroy this holy sanctuary."
"And yet here you remain," The Dragoman murmured, his voice carrying an ethereal echo as if spoken across time and space.
"As do all who serve you, Great One. We have faith in you. We will not waver in our beliefs."
"You are wise to believe so, child. The universe hears your prayers, it will offer you salvation in this life or the next."
Vulnir kissed the Dragoman's feet in supplication before leaving the Almighty's presence.
The Great Dragoman turned his attention back to the vastness of space, his eyes beginning to make out the moving pricks of light that marked the fleet coming to destroy him.
Without hesitation, he let the voice of the universe back into his thoughts.
Life had been so simple once. Just a small boy, a street-urchin buried in the warrens of the city-world, Fenator. At eighteen, like everyone else the boy had prayed for some great power to lift him from his impoverished existence. If only he had known. The moment the voice spoke to him, a terrible madness overcame the child's mind. Fenator imploded only moments later. The boy pulled from existence into something else, somewhere else.
Time had no meaning in that place, only the thoughts of the universe merited any passage of existence. Here the boy learned to communicate with the ephemeral voice. Learned to use it, control it. In time the universe became little more than a beast to his will.
Here now, he returned to the people's of the universe, a god for all intents. The followers came readily, and those who resisted shared the same fate as Fenator. A thousand worlds burned as such, testaments to the will and power of the Great Dragoman.
In the cold darkness of space a sea of ships began to fire as one at the temple station. The blackness of the universe hidden by the blinding light of damnation.
The Dragoman told the universe what to do.
Behind the fleet, a small hole in the fabric of space teared open, barely the size of an atom. The void began to grow, a black hole ready to devour them all.
Those who defied the universe would die.
[Check out more of my stories on my subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/user/wolfbeaumont) | 2019-12-22T08:46:01 | 2019-12-22T06:46:15 | 1,491 | 500 |
[WP] Your will requests that you want a "space burial." You discover your loved ones have honored it when you awake on another planet. It would seem someone managed to revive you. | I remembered dying. I remembered slipping away. I remembered the soft touch of Rebecca’s, my wife, hand as she held mine while I slipped away. I remembered feeling at peace.
I didn’t remember the journey.
“Pull it back,” said someone.
“I think he’s slipping away again.”
I squinted. The light was so bright. Five figures stood over me. Did the doctor’s bring me back?
I didn’t want to be revived. I was ready to go. I was at peace. Why didn’t they just let me die?
“He’s back. We did it. We revived him,” exclaimed someone.
I groaned and tried to sit up. “Where’s Rebecca?” I said.
“Don’t sit up. Try to relax.”
“I thought I had a no resuscitate clause,” I said. Talking proved difficult. My throat was so dry. “Can I please have some water?”
“We didn’t know. We’re sorry.”
Someone popped an ice chip into my mouth. “Did you not read my chart? Did you not talk to my wife?”
“Do you know where you are?”
“Mt. Sinai hospital. I want to talk to Rebecca now,” I said. I didn’t want to actually talk to her. I had died at peace and closure. It would be difficult, but she needed to know my doctor’s had brought me back against my wishes.
“No. You’re on Cerrot. We found your pod floating around our system’s seventh planet.”
I blinked and tried to focus on the figures around me. They looked different. Eyes slightly bigger, skin slightly greener, muscles slightly bigger.
I looked down at my own body. It wasn’t wrinkled anymore. I didn’t have any liver spots and my hair wasn’t grey. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m Doctor Chen. We don’t fully understand how you came to us, but we have rejuvenated your body as best our doctors can do,” said Dr. Chen. “We notice you’re not augmented. We’ve narrowed down the time that you’re from, but we can talk about that more later.”
I shook my head. “Where’s my wife?” I looked up at Dr. Chen. “Where’s Cerrot?”
The doctor put his hand on my shoulder. “In time, Thomas. Now you need to rest. We will meet with you again later.”
EDIT: [Go here for Part Two!](http://www.reddit.com/r/Puns_are_Lazy/comments/2rhjmx/wheres_rebecca/) All of the interest in this has really made my day. Thanks, guys! I hope Part Two lives up to your expectations!
| The air I breathe glitters down by throat as Im pulled along on my back, blearily looking up to the stars above me, consellations I don't recognise.
With each breath I feel more and more in my place, as if I'm slowly fading into the world. My head sparking with light and thought, flashing disjointed memories of the crash in of me. The strange taste of the place causes me to cough, and when I try to bring my arm up to my mouth I find it caught, bound to my side along with its opposite.
Suddenly, my view of the stars is erased by bright line; two artificial suns beating down from above - forcing my dry eyes shut. I'm picked up, to alien chatter and hastened footsteps, and when I brave the light again I open my eyes to find myself inside, staring upward at a primitive lamp, still unable to move.
I wonder if this is the afterlife, or whether I ever really died; the crash of my coffin forcing me out of a coma and into life in a strange place. But I feel body coming to life again, bllod through my veins and sweat on my skin - and with each uncomfortable drip on my face, and circulation past my heart, I know that I had died, wondering whether I could feel all this before, if I noticed it.
I try to turn my head, peering round to catch a glimpse at one of the new creatures - but my senses are overexposed, terrifying. I cannot believe I could ever listen to this noise, take in so much information, I never realised how difficult it was simply to be alive.
When I realise I'm alone I rest myself, quietly considering what circumstances brought me here. I rack my mind for memory of me arriving, the earliest thing I recall being the air. Crystal and cold, soaring throughout me, the spectacle of just feeling.
Then the vehicles, roaring in the dark crudely toward me. Almost invisible, emerging from the black. The creatures getting out, dragging me along and forcing me here. How similar they seemed, yet so different; the clothing, the gait, the badges.
The stars and stripes. | 2015-01-05T21:43:51 | 2015-01-05T19:04:56 | 158 | 21 |
[WP] You're homeless, sleeping on the street in NYC. You have no family, no friends, and no where to go. After 5 years living like this, a man in a fancy black suit walks by where you're begging and hands you a blank check. Then he says "Knock yourself out, kid." | “Knock yourself out, kid.”
It’s become almost Pavlovian: my hand shot out, palm upward. “God bless,” I didn’t hear the words anymore, let alone mean them.
He wore a plain black suit that looked like it had just been dry cleaned. I’m not a fashion connoisseur, but it looked quality. Expensive. He wore black leather gloves despite the heat.
To be honest he looked like a bad James Bond cosplay.
A folded piece of paper was pinched between two outstretched fingers.
I reached for it, but he snapped it back just before I could grab it. A mischievous grin spread across his clean-shaven face. “Ah, ah, ah.” His pale blue eyes twinkled in the afternoon sun.
“Fuck you,” Now *that* I did mean. Half a decade on the streets, and this half-baked stockbroker was in the wrong neighborhood. As if to illustrate the point, muffled police sirens resumed their incessant wail a few blocks out.
I hawked up a wad of phlegm and spat it right between his feet- a few droplets of spit hit his freshly shined shoes.
He chuckled. There was no kindness in it. “Relax, kid. You’re rich.”
“Rich?”
“Rich.” He repeated.
He handed the paper over, and I unfolded it: It *was* a check. A *blank* check with the name “Aaron Howarth.”
“What the fuck?”
“Like I said, kid. Knock yourself out.” He winked at me and stepped into the street.
“What the fuck?” I repeatedly numbly, trying to process what was happening as he crossed the street and disappeared.
…
I was acutely aware of my odor as I walked into the cool bank lobby with my tattered Jansport backpack, soiled jeans, and stained Ramons tee shirt.
Ignoring the stares, I walked up to the front counter and loudly cleared my throat. “I’d like to withdraw…” I looked down at the check and shrugged. “One million dollars.”
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” She was wearing too much makeup. Her eyebrows bunched together like two worms fighting for the high ground.
“Go get me a pen, lady, I gotta fill this out.” I hawked up another wad of thick phlegm, briefly considered the plush blue carpet, but swallowed it.
She folded her arms across her chest.
“This is legit,” I waved the check around like a surrender flag. “I just want to cash my check.”
Someone from behind me gripped my wrist. I knew it was a cop even before I heard the crackle of his police radio.
“You’re making a mistake,” I said, still staring at this bitch of a teller. The handcuffs clinked into place.
“That’s definitely him, detective.” A familiar voice said.
I spun around, facing a uniformed police officer, a detective in a cheap suit, and *him-* the stranger that had given me the check.
“That’s the man I saw coming out of his house last night.” He was still pointing at me. He wasn’t wearing gloves anymore.
He wasn’t smiling anymore.
“What is this?” I croaked.
The detective stared at me. Dark bags hung under his eyes, and his breath stank of coffee and cigarettes. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Aaron Horwath. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”
The cop knelt down and started tossing my backpack as the detective rattled off the Miranda Rights. I wish I could say this was my first time.
“Can someone tell me *what the fuck is going on?!”* I started to panic. *Murder*? The bundle of heroin at the bottom of my backpack was the least of my problems.
“Detective.” The uniformed officer pulled a knife out of my backpack. A knife that I’ve never seen before. *Knock yourself out, kid.* He had approached from behind me. Where my backpack was. I hadn’t been looking at him when he first showed up. Dread began to blossom in the pit of my stomach.
The rust-color of dried blood was all over the blade.
"That's not mine..." I said dumbly. They ignored me.
The detective snapped on a latex glove and plucked the blank check off the counter.
“Check #121,” he scratched his scruffy neck with the ungloved hand. “The one that’s missing from his checkbook. My friend, you and I are going to have a conversation.”
“A... conversation?” Things were happening too fast. I started to feel nauseous.
“Let’s head downtown. I’ll buy you a soda.”
“Downtown?” I felt like I had to shit. My knees started trembling.
The detective put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “The last thing we want is for you to get caught in a lie. Let's just get in front of this thing,” he gestured vaguely toward the check and knife. “You're already dead to rights- and we both know your DNA is going to be on or near that crime scene.”
I glanced at my accuser in his fancy black suit. Those pale blue murderous eyes.
His shoes were clean. Too clean. In agony I thought about the spittle that had landed on those shoes just a short while ago. My DNA. As if reading my thoughts, he winked at me.
I screamed as I was stuffed into the back of the police car.
I couldn’t stop screaming.
\_\_\_
r/epaulfiction | A single moment was all it took. A glance to the side, a shake of a hand, and the sound of footsteps on fallen snow, all in the passing seconds of a nameless, faceless man walking past.
With the man in black now around the corner, Kurt looked in his hand. A small, light blue sheet of paper with more power than he'd ever seen before. He didn't know how he knew it was powerful, but something within him warmed at the touch of it, even in the wintery streets of New York. He lifted it to the light of the streetlight above and read it carefully, trying to spot any flaws or reasons to doubt his luck. He cursed himself for not knowing anything about forgeries and leaned back against the building.
For a moment, he thought of chasing down the man to ask for help. Why did he give Kurt a chance? Was it a mistake? Did he deserve it? No, that was up to him, wasn't it? But the bitter cold, as well as the shock of the situation, froze him to his spot.
He opened his other hand and looked at the other piece of paper the man had given him. A pocket-sized piece of stiff paper fell loosely in his hand, emblazoned with the name of a company and a logo Kurt didn't recognize. On the other side of the card read the words, "make your choice" followed by an address written hastily in pencil.
What did this mean? What choice? Kurt held the two items together and saw the same logo on each of them: a two-faced bird clutching an olive branch. He'd never seen it before, even in all these years of begging on the street. You come to know the streets well when you're face-down in the gutter.
He shook his head, trying to dispel the gross appeal of what he had in his hands. Never been one to familiar with money, Kurt thought of the extravagant things this limitless cheque could bring. But it wasn't limitless, he knew that there was a limit. These things, even a slate as clean as this, came with a price. He'd been burned in the past and learned his lesson regarding things offered as gifts. A gift can be more trouble than it's worth, as his father once said. His birthdays were always terrible.
But he was overcome with the implications of the cheque. A quick trip to the bank and he'd have his problems solved, his time on the streets would be over. The thought of a home to call his own flooded his chest with warmth. So many things he'd lost would come back to him. His bed. His home. His life. It would all be his again.
Though he knew it wouldn't be his. Everything he could buy again or bring back to himself would be from the fruits of someone else's labour. Kurt was a proud man and admitted that maybe that was why he was on the streets in the first place, so the thought of living in a shell of his former life turned his stomach.
The card in his left hand shook in the wind, calling out to him among the howling gale. It was a cold year, there wasn't any telling if he would be able to even survive. Maybe he could do some good with the money. He thought of those on the streets with him, sufferers like him, victims of a cruel and blameless world. So much could be done for them. Food and warmth, a home for them all. The address on the card grabbed his attention, pulling him from his grasps for excuses to use the money.
He knew the address, of course, it was only down the road. Everything was just down the road nowadays, but it truly wasn't far. A ten-minute walk at most. His face reddened as he looked down the street, past the slowly-filling footsteps of the man in black, and wondered. What could possibly be there that warranted the choice between whatever the cheque could bring and a vague address? The thought of a job passed in front of him, but it seemed unlikely. Almost as unlikely as a stranger handing the key to the gates of Avalon to a bum.
Kurt stood from his seat, knocking the cardboard sign to the ground where it blew away in the winter storm. The shiver down his spine had stopped, a strange sense of calm washing over him.
In his right hand was the cheque, a free ticket to ride, a second chance. But it wasn't his chance to give, not really. He looked to the west down the road and saw the lights of the bank in the distance, a beacon to better things.
In his left hand was the strange address, silently beckoning to him. There was no telling what was there or if it would help in any way. To the east laid his path to the numbers on the paper, the opportunity from some unknown benefactor.
A single moment. All these thoughts passed in mere seconds, the war in his head battled out in a brief conclusion. A moment was all it took.
He held the two slips firm in his hand and took his first step towards a new start. | 2020-08-22T20:44:42 | 2020-08-22T17:38:32 | 526 | 30 |
[WP] A young gay dragon has to explain to his parents why he is only kidnapping princes | Ryonar trembled at the sight of his parents landing at his castle. They were the apotheosis of might. Black scales, tremendous size, and unmatched bloodthirst.
"Son," Barlon--his father-- said, locking his fire imbued eyes on his, "it has come to our attention that you aren't kidnapping princesses but princes."
Alethela--her mother--huffed haughtily. "He's also feeding them with feasts worthy of kings, Barlon."
"Is that true, son?" Barlon crawled toward him. "Are you wasting your treasures?"
Ryonar fidgeted and looked away. How could he explain this? "I-I have lot of riches, and I enjoy being a good host."
"A good host for *princes*?" Alethela snapped. "How many do you have in here?"
Ryonar took a deep breath. There was no use in lying anymore. They had cornered him. "Seventy two."
"For god's sake, Alethela." Barlon stomped the ground, sending boulders flying to the sides. "Don't push him."
Alethela huffed again, annoyed.
"Son," Barlon said, "can you tell us why aren't you kidnapping princesses?"
"Father." Ryonar met Barlon's Gaze, and then turned to Alethela. "Mother. There's no point in lying to you anymore. I've grown to hate shining crowns, and love the length and girth of a well crafted sword."
Barlon frowned. "Then why don't you steal swords, *and* princesses?"
"Oh, my sweet darling." Alethela shook her head. "How can you be so naive. He likes men's *flesh.*"
"I understand that," Barlon said. "He can always eat them. I've eaten entire armies."
Ryonar and Alethela glared at him.
"What?" Barlon struggled to understand the hidden meaning, but after a couple minutes of awkward silence, he spoke, "Oh. Seventy two?" His eyes widened. "At least you inherited our greed. Well I mean not at least. I meant. Bah! Forget it.
"We love you anyway son, just be cautious and aware."
Alethela flew toward her son's side, and embraced him in her wings. "Your father is right. You might like swords, but they are sharp, and they can make you bleed. We won't judge your tastes, but be aware of those who seek the praise of slaughtering Barlon's son."
Ryonar smiled. "No sword can pierce the thickness of my scales. Believe me. We have tried enormous crossbows and the sharpest arrows. Great times." He chuckled
The room fell silent. That might have been too much.
---------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall For more (not so strange) stories!
| The Elveron family; one of the most prestigious lines of
dragon in the world. Their terror has been known for over a millennium, toppling
countless villages and striking fear into the hearts of whoever they cross paths with. Their
work has picked up in recent years. With all the new kingdoms popping up, the
need for princess kidnapping has increased tenfold.
But now tension is brewing in the family, no more apparent than
in tonight’s dinner. Little Adam, the youngest of twelve and the only one still
home with his parents, has had a 100% success rate of kidnapping his victims. The only problem?
He only captures princes.
“Son,” father Kirfon said, trying to put his on his farthereist
voice. “We need to discuss something very important with you.”
Adam put down the Princess Fiona meatloaf his mother had cooked. “Hey
if it’s about that Rupaul guy you saw on my screen because I only studying human culture and-“
“Not that son, although I still do not understand why they are gagging so much. I mean, your
kidnappings. One hundred and twenty-three captures and not a maiden! I
mean, you even got Prince Charming. How on Earth did you ever get him from
Disney!?”
“Oh, I hired some lawyers.”
“And were they all male too?”
“Of course not- I mean- Well, why does that matter?”
Kirfon facepalmed. “Honey, how about you just say it?”
“Adam, dear. We’re a bit worried about you. Why do you only
kidnap males? You can tell us.”
Adam quickly realized he couldn’t hold it any longer. He needed to tell the truth, but he knew his parents would never accept it. But, an idea popped into his head.
He sat up and leaned forward on the table.
“Well, mother, father. I guess this is a better time than
any. I… prefer eating men.”
Adam tried to give his best smile while freaking out inside.
Both the father and mother leaned back, looking relived.
“Oh, is that all? Well, that meat preference is definitely
strange, but sometimes I enjoy devouring males as well! Sorry for asking! Back
to dinner everyone.”
Adam sat back down and resumed eating, smiling devilishly.
Little did his father and mother know the true weight of that sentence.
/r/StoryStar for more really fucking weird tales like this. | 2018-05-03T12:47:55 | 2018-05-03T12:12:55 | 243 | 159 |
[WP] Soul mates are real and technology has finally allowed for detection of some peoples “other half" at the speed of light using quantum messaging. When you were tested there was no response, now 10 years later you are called in to let you know a response has just arrived.
thats all you get to go on, can be born years apart, could be distance, could be missing soul, whatever you want.
theme, setting and genre all up to you.
*"technology" can be magic, natural human empathy, gods, whatever. | It's been 7 long years since you left me. The counselor told me that the pain would become more manageable. With time. And sometimes I think maybe it will. Then I'll hear the creak of the floorboards, and expect to see you shuffling into the room as you did, that beautiful smile on your face making my heart skip a beat, as it always did. But you're not there. And then I'm back, back in that damn hospital room, the doctors surrounding your bed, telling me it's time to say goodbye.
I still get the paper every morning, bright and early, before you get up, so I can have it ready for you when you wake up. I've been reading about this new fangled technology that apparently allows you to find your soul mate, your companion through the journey of life. Well, I already knew who my soul mate was, so they wouldn't be able to find mine. Not anymore. But they were offering to pay for people to come out and try it, and it sure beat sitting at home all day.
So I went up to the University, and go into this dark room, way underground. I tell him you ain't going to find my soul mate, she's not with us anymore, and they offer a sympathetic smile, and tells me they've never not found anyone yet. He don't believe me. I don't bother to argue though. He's young, he'll learn he doesn't know everything yet.
So he sits me down, and tells me to put my hand in this machine, and I'd be able to know my companion right away. I put my hand in, and didn't need no damn scientist to tell me what I already knew.
No match.
That scientist could not believe it. He calls in another scientist, then another. They keep making me do the test. Still nothing. Other people do it, and they all get results. But not me.
Cos I knew it was you. How could it not be. 7 years since you took your final journey, and my soul aches to be with you again. I'll be right beside you soon. Just waiting for my time right now.
----
10 years since I stuck my hand in that machine, and they come knocking on my door, all excited. They told me I'm the only person they've never found a match for, but they'd made improvements. Now it could locate your companion for you.
So back I go, stick my hand in the machine. Ping.
A match.
They start talking excitedly. They give me an address to go to. I'm numb. How can this be? There can't ever be anyone else like you. All I can do is go to that address and prove them wrong.
So I walked into that room where she was waiting for me. Hand trembling, ready to prove those know-it-all scientists wrong, I went in. I saw her, sitting there. And what do you know, they were right. I'd felt that way once before. That feeling of completeness when you know everything is right. Not quite the same. A little different than it was with you. But not dissimilar. I'd found someone else.
She moved in with me shortly afterwards, and wasted no time in sharing my bed with me. Although she now probably think's of it as hers, and she'd probably be right. I don't even go for the paper alone in the morning, she comes with me. But it's more than that. The way her eyes light up when I walk into the room, joy written all over her face.
The pain of losing you is still sometimes unbearable. But she's there for me when it gets too bad, dragging me back from the dark places when the memories walk our house too much.
It may not replace the hole in my heart which came with your passing. But a dog's what I need right now. Until I join you my love. | The evening news tends to be filled with serious issues. Climate change, terrorism and politics, wrapped into a neat 30 minute show. Unveilings of new machinery and inventions tend to be stuff for local newspapers. Because of that, the final bit told by the grey-haired newsreader was all the more surprising.
Even more surprising was the gigantic line the following morning. Hundreds of people had shown up early in the morning, their curiousity piqued from the news report.
I guess I wasn't any different. A machine that pinpoints your soulmate, the one person who you can spend your whole life with and love it. Who wouldn't be curious? Standing in line, though... That part sucked.
What sucked even more was a worst-case scenario actually happening. I had thought about what could happen during several hours of standing in line and had concluded that the worst thing would certainly be the name of an ex popping up. instead, after a lengthy scan of my face, eyes and palms, the machine showed me something even worse.
An error message. Error 1063, "soulmate not found".
Whoever wrote that error message is an asshole.
I wasn't too bothered by it at first. It seemed like a novelty machine, but in the months that followed everyone at college started hooking up. It wasn't long until the "Magic Match Maker" had given everybody someone to love. Everybody except me. Error 1063.
I started looking online for answers. A small community had indeed started for people who had the same history with the big M3. It seemed like I found an answer, the machine simply messed up and there was another 1063 out there for me.
Years later, after graduating in Computer Sciences, I still hadn't found my own soulmate. I had been through a couple of relationships since the mishap. None of them were bad, but I never really felt invested. After several months, the error message always popped back into my mind, like a roadblock. I went back to the drawing board, and really the only thing I felt I knew anything about: the internet.
I spent hours searching a variety of dating sites, but it all seemed the same. I needed something new. Something different.
I didn't find a new community, or a new date, or even a coping method, but I did find something else that interested me, a little piece of inspiration. It started with a small program I worked on during weekends, but grew larger and larger as months and years passed by.
It has been 10 years since the error message, and about 7 years since I started my project. I realised that the initial M3 was too limiting. It wasn't broken, nor was there something wrong with me. It simply misunderstood some people, people who couldn't connect with others in the traditional, romantic-comedy-kind-of-way.
I stood in front of the large machine I had been building. A replacement for the M3 that would finally give 1063's like me a place to belong. 7 years of work was about to come to fruition - it was time to give the Aromantic Platonic Partner Finder its first test run.
I turned on the machine, scanned my face, eyes and palms and waited patiently for an answer. In a minute, the machine would beep and a name would pop up on the machine's large screen, the name of my platonic soulmate.
The beep sounded. I looked up.
"It works." | 2015-11-30T12:28:23 | 2015-11-30T11:35:42 | 87 | 21 |
[WP] Write a really BAD guide for getting a guy/girl. Bonus points if the narrator is mocking you for still being single.
[removed] | Hey girl! Binging on chips again while watching Netflix eat away at your insecurity? Stop marathoning bad rom-coms just because you can't get the man of your dreams! Let this love expert help you snag that hottie who's never looked your way with these simple tips. Throw away that photo of your ex under your pillow and let's get started!
Tip # 1: Let's start with your looks. Yeah, no. Not even a shit ton of make up is going to fix your flawed view of beauty, but at least you can pretend it does. Watch a YouTube tutorial or four to get a grasp of how you'll never, ever be able to hide your anxiety from everyone you know!
Bonus tip: Don't forget to buy the most expensive brands available. Nothing like the best eyeliner to really show off how desperate you are for a love life!
Tip # 2: Go to the right places to meet the love of your life. Wow, that club has a ladies' night and you are hoping to dance your financial troubles away? Surely only the best potential totally-not-creepy jackasses of suitors will want to hang out there, am I right? Wear that one little black dress you own and strut in those stilettos you hate all the way to the dance floor. Maybe you won't see all your friends go home with someone and cry yourself to sleep this time around!
Tip # 3: Take up a hobby. And no, I don't mean laughing to dank memes all day, silly girl! Go for something that will push you to actually shower and go outside for a change. There are billions of people out in the world right now doing amazing things, and I'm sure one of them will stop to look at you. Maybe.
Tip # 4: Revel in the uselessness of your existence and try not to hurt yourself thinking of the finiteness of life. You were made for nothing and you will end in nothing. What you have done today will now be in the past forevermore, and as you read this, the screen will continue to pulse at the blink that is your lifetime. Besides, your sister is getting married next week and your BFF is having her first baby. Like, why try, right?
And these have been my tips on how to find the guy of your dreams. You'll laugh at how accurate I am while inwardly seething as you go through break up number 284. You actually think that Mr. Fuck Buddy is your Prince Charming, and refuse to act like you're responsible for your own actions. I can't smile enough at thinking how you believed this guide will change your life!
Have a wonderful day and may you live with your fear of intimacy always. Xoxo | guide to fetching a gurl.
pro tip #1
girls love manly men, to be mainly you gota smell mainly. men have feranones in theire sweet girls love them, make shur you smell like fermons. the way you tell you smell good enough is if men dont go near you bc they tink you stink.
pro tip #2
men have hair, but not to much on theire head. only women have long head hair, cut head hair short, leav all other hair long.
you could also make a ploish plat gurls like this and it leaves head hair longe.
pro tip #3
girls like party abimialy alway be rhe drunkest and vomit often at parties. vomit has feramones so gorles likes it.
pro tip #4
sho your maile dominance by making fun of and harasing other guys, grills like it it make you look like bigley man.
pro tip #5
never ever evre ever touch wipe or wash your ass hole. this sgows you like guys. girs no you like girs if you ass hole is dirty. stains should be wisible on underwhaer.
pro tip #6
make teh girl now ho is boss call them a bitch hit them often. fuck her at your will. this shows domince it also releses fermones.
pro tip#7
try for more then 1 girul at a time. if you have 1 gf and they leave you you have no gf. if you have 8 and 1 leaves you you still have 7.
pto tip #8
dont let your bitiches know abou the other bitiches, make them feel like they are the only one.
pro tip #9
when you get stedg with one live in theire appartment and make them work, you drink cheep beer (god juce) and collect ei chekes,
pro tip #10
girls like to be tpuched without conset
pro tip#11
make sure you fuck with no one in prission, if you mess with any one they will hurt you.
edit: '"fixed" the spelling and grammar. | 2017-06-09T23:54:54 | 2017-06-09T21:26:55 | 182 | 72 |
[WP] Your boss told you not to press the flashing red button. Your coworker told you not to push the flashing red button. The big book on the desk says don't push the flashing red button. There's even a sign that says "Never push the flashing red button." But still... | I did it. Well, I didn’t really do it, but I did... ya know? It was an accident. They should have put a cage or a shield around the damn thing. It’s not like I meant to do it.
I’m not sure where the smashing noises are coming from, in the building, because my monitors immediately went black. A giant sheet metal door slammed down, covering my side of the door. It has no handles. I don’t know if I’m being protected or held captive. I hear steam whistles blow, which is odd because this is a medical facility, not some sort of power plant.
My job is/was simple. I watch the screens. Only Badges go in and out of the doors with the green stripes. Hazmat suites on, step into a clean room, swipe through. I am not a Badge. I’m a desk. A desk with screens. The bottom of the bottom. The Badges are top level scientists. Supposedly they’re curing diseases behind those green stripes. Either they failed, and this disease got out of control, or some serious Jurassic Park shit has been being hidden behind those cameras. No doubt, I’m about to be the fall guy. All it took was one cup of coffee put down in the wrong place. I didn’t even have to look at it, to realize the second I put it down, I messed up. I felt it. That button just sank under the weight of the mug that came from my daughter.
In this top secret facility, my phone is left in the locker. So I have no one. I can’t call anybody. I can’t text my daughter. And I can’t ask what’s going on. I’m unsure if I should be on my knees praying to live or to die quickly. I just keep hearing the thrashing. The screaming. Sounds of the whole facility being destroyed. I’ve been sitting her shell shocked, trembling and I realized I’ve been holding my breath. I try to force myself to breathe, but it doesn’t work. I gulp in nothing. The panic that has locked me on the spot, is finally loosening up and trying to facilitate an action. There’s no way to un-press the button. My body is overwhelmed with the need to do something so I obsessively try to turn the screens back on, and hit every key on my computer. Nothing happens. The noises are getting louder. The floor has a slight tremble. I don’t know if it’s about to collapse or if something is getting closer to this room.
Abruptly, the screens come to life. They show static. Slowly they start to clear, and one by one, letters appear in the center of the screen:
Y... O... U... L... O... S... E...
If my heart and stomach weren’t already about to come through my mouth, this would have stopped me in my tracks. I’m hiding. Under the control panel that goes across the room. Tucked in a ball. A grown-ass man, in a ball under a desk he’s sat at for 8 years. I’m not sure if the floor is trembling or if it’s me anymore.
Something bashed into the wall, not that far from my office. I hear a shrill scream, the lady in the office that’s closest to mine. She’s not a Badge. She’s a desk, like me. She’s nice. Talks about her cats. Her kids are grown. She was going to retire next spring. I hear what sounds like a tornado in her office. The noise goes from impossibly loud, to impossibly silent, quicker than can make sense. I’m holding my breath still, but this time, it’s because I’m straining to hear what’s going on, am I next? Nothing moves, the silence is palpable. Now I’m debating what I just heard. Did it exist at all? It had to have been at least 2 minutes since the tornado in that office. It’s only 9 steps from my door. My steel reinforced, handle less door. My mind sprints back to the last thing that occupied it. “You lose”- what did that mean? Clearly I lost. As the whole building just got decimated by something I couldn’t see. As the security officer, it’s kind of my job to keep this place secure. But what did I lose? Was that personal? Can I leave here? How can I call for help.
With no warning, three knocks on my door drag me back to the here end now. I’m so scared I can’t move. I just tremble harder. “Jordan, open up, we just need to talk to you.” I don’t recognize the voice, and I don’t know how to open the door. I just hug my knees tighter. “Jordan, this is urgent.” Yes well I happen to agree. I’m not sure why, but I’m more scared of who’s on the outside of that door, than is rational. Anyone who is standing there, should sound frantic, not rational. I’m just a Desk but I’ve been around enough to know the voices of the Badges. This isn’t one of them. I don’t know who it is, but they seem unrattled by complete carnage around them. That’s not normal. “Jordan, I’d recommend you open this door. Alternatively I can let It open the door for me. The choice is yours.” Wait- did this guy just insinuate that “It” is something he controls? What the fuck. I’m pretty sure I’m about to die that same death that my cohorts just didn’t. “Jordan, I didn’t want to do it this way, but you’re making me.” With that, I hear the man step aside. Effortlessly the outer door just broke off of the hinges. I hear it fall to the ground. The steel door starts to vibrate in its frame. It gets bent out of shape, and sucked out of its space. Now there’s nothing between me and them.
The man walks into the frame. I can’t see anyone else. No monster, of force. No shadow figure towering over the man. I see movement low on the ground. Rubbing up against the man’s leg, is a small, orange, cat. “Jordan, I’m sure you have a lot of questions about what just happened. Please don’t resist us and we will make this as painless as possible.” | It was flashing and it was red. What the hell else did they expect?
Nothing had happened anyways. I flipped through the manual trying to see what was supposed to happen. It didn't say. Big books had a way of doing that: using lots of fancy words and never really saying much at all. There was people like that, too.
But the boss came in the next morning and he knew. He knew.
"You pressed the button." It wasn't a question. He said it as casually as he'd told me on my first day of work that he took his coffee black, and his donuts glazed, and his employees with an uncompromising sense of duty and obedience.
I guess I'd flunked. I liked sugar in my coffee.
I gulped and shook my head. "No, sir," I stuttered, not sounding half as convincing as I would have liked.
He turned, eyes frigid and unblinking. "You did. It wasn't a question."
Fuck. How could I have been so stupid? Even if the button did nothing--even if it was hooked up to a counter and each time a new, curious idiot pressed it the counter went up by one and the number of employees went down by one, he would know. And if it was worse? He would know. And if it was nothing? He knew anyways.
"Sit," he said.
I sat.
"Why?"
"Curiosity, I guess," I said quietly.
We'd been watching them for weeks. Stuck in that little room as if they didn't know they were stuck in that little room. A man, his wife, their cat. Tom, Sharon, Gerty.
His hair was peppered, the skin around his eyes wrinkled from smiles. Her hair was white, her hands achy and knotted. Gerty was gray.
They were simple, and beautiful in their simplicity. I envied them, but not their prison. In each other's company their contentment solved all. They wanted not for what they couldn't have and needed little but their spouse's warmth.
To them, the window was to the world. There was a small backyard with a magnolia tree and a patch of grass that never needed cut. Past that, bunnies and deer and skunks scampered through the woods on a winding, interminable loop. To us, the window was to them.
They never left. They never even tried to leave. In the mornings, Tom would wake up first and make coffee in the other half of their fragmented world and take it to Sharon in her favorite mug. The mug was an elephant, its gray trunk the handle. Elephants never forgot, but these two lovers had forgotten where they'd come from. Of that, I was certain.
Some mornings, I thought maybe they were a simulation. Other mornings, I was convinced that I was the simulation. Still other mornings, there wasn't any simulation and it was unbounded cruelty as I lived in my prison and they in theirs.
Tom would get the newspaper that the mailman--my colleague, Robert, who I didn't know in more than passing, and I had begun to think that that was intentional--had slipped through the mail slot in the front door. It was the same paper each day, but neither of them cared. It might have been something in the coffee.
Tom would take it to bed and read to Sharon.
I loved watching. A voyeur, of sorts, except I'd quickly look away when they got intimate. Eavesdropper was more fitting. They relished the visit from their children that was always just around the corner. They would go to the fair, to the beach, to the park, and the kids would love that Gerty the cat was still alive and going strong.
The visit never came. It never would. So maybe it was mercy more than curiosity, that hope that the button would release them from their prison.
"Curiosity killed the cat," my boss said.
I breathed in sharply. "The cat?" Guilt crept its ugly hands up my chest, flushed my throat and face. My stomach churned. I'd have to see the cat. Dead. "Gerty?"
"It's an expression," my boss said.
I breathed again. Gerty was fine. Tom and Sharon were, too. The button had done nothing, and my disobedience would go unpunished. They were as fine as they could be. Them and their infinite patience.
My boss clicked a couple keys so that the room across the window brightened. A new dawn, a new day. They were gone. All except Gerty, who lamented her owners' absence with meows of distress and kneaded at the comforter as if they might be hiding beneath it.
There was a knocking at the door. I glanced at my boss. His lips were pursed, his eyes unbetraying.
"Where are Tom and Sharon?" I asked. My voice trembled like my hands did.
But Tom and Sharon were no more. The door opened for the first time since my arrival. In came Robert, his eyes a fog, his wife close behind him. He had a paper coffee cup in his hand, and he took another sip as he brushed his feet off on the welcome mat.
Gerty rubbed against his legs. He knelt and pet her as if he'd known her all along and missed her dearly during his absence.
He looked to the window and smiled.
He didn't see us, didn't remember us, didn't realize that this was his new existence. The closest I'd come to Robert would be the mail slot, and I'd never meet the replacement behind the glass. And then the new fellow would press the button and Robert would disappear and I'd replace him.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2020-12-17T07:36:38 | 2020-12-17T05:50:15 | 632 | 139 |
[WP] Write a story about something you don't understand. Do NO research. Make everything up as you go.
**Possible subjects:**
*Fly-Fishing
*Open-Heart Surgery
*Supply-Management in the Canadian Dairy Industry
*Making Hollywood Movies
*Guidance Counselling for High School Students
*Storm Chasing
*Electrical Repair in High-Rise Buildings
*The Large Hadron Collider
*Love
EDIT: Oh God, what have I done? | So Captain Kirk, do we have to go full warp speed to planet Coagula?
Asked the little gay Asian guy who's name I'm not allowed to google.
Captain Kirk with a smug look on his face as he might ordinarily have, responds saying, no little Asian guy. Were going back to earth. Because it may exist in this universe. The black guy from xmen somehow got on the ship. Stole a crew suit and is infiltrating their intel. He knows damn well that Renwuad is no good at formatting a story. All of a sudden the ship crashed into a planet that was completely invisible, it broke in half, slowly sinking into space....somehow.
Jack appeared out of nowhere holding onto a box of phasers. Their was clearly room on it for him to lay on, but he chose to hold on to the side, and slowly died, while the little funny Asian man laughed. And said "Gooooooodbyyyyeee" | "Okay bob, hold my scalpel while I squeeze the heart"
"Right, now I just need you to connect those two tubes while I hold it like this"
"Okay...
Yes! done!"
"Wait, why is my computer making that weird beeping noise?"
"OH MY GOD!!! HE'S GONNA DIE! GET THE DEFIBRILLATOR!!"
*zzzzZAP!*
"Oops, I think we killed him."
"Wow, we really suck at surgeon simulator don't we?" | 2016-02-01T22:49:14 | 2016-02-01T21:35:35 | 16 | 11 |
[WP]”I’m going to fight and lose badly” “don’t you mean win?” “No! Look at her she is built like a tank I can’t win!” | I couldn't argue. The fighter across the ring had a squat chassis resting between two stout track pods. A menacing array of armaments and sensors bristled from slabs of sloped armor. Pretty much the most appropriate literal assessment.
"Look, you're a world-class bot fighter. You can make it happen. Everything has a weakness."
As I glanced at our foe again I hoped I was right.
"Look, it's a solid build paradigm, but there are known weaknesses to it. Tell me about em."
L1L1 lost the frantic spark in her eyes and settled down. "Flanking attacks. The side is usually less formidable than the front. The rear is often vulnerable, as is the top. Mobility kills can be achieved by damaging the tracks."
I adjusted a few servo values in my tuning computer. Bumped a little bit of shield power over to weapons. L1L1 gave a surprised shuffle as she processed the change.
"That goes against 97.239% of our previous fight strategy. What gives?"
"Well, Lilly, the lower shield values should be able to protect you from the point defense lasers and heavy slug throwers. Your shield maxes wouldn't stop that mass driver it's sporting as a primary weapon. So, we gamble a bit on some extra hitting power."
"What about the missile batteries?"
Yeah. Leave it to L1L1 to point out the flaw.
"Guess you gotta dodge, puddin. You have your own countermeasures, and as long as you don't get tagged directly you should be okay. Stay quick and nimble, keep it to medium range. Those missiles will have a hard time keeping up with you, given that they look like long-range types, and the point defenses won't be hitting as hard."
I could see her scanning, and the diagnostics flared with increased calculations.
"Maybe pick off some of the externally mounted weapons? Create some less dangerous zones?"
It was a good idea, and I was glad to see she wasn't making the mistake of thinking in terms of "safe" zones anymore. I glanced at the new right arm. Yeah. Nowhere is ever safe in a bot fight.
"It's a good idea Lilly. Doubt that turret will be able to track fast enough to follow you once you start dancing, but you can't lose track of that gun."
She grimaced. "Like you always say, careless for a moment, scrap forever."
"That's my girl."
With that our prep time was over. The safety fields boomed to life, and my sweet flower was set to dance with a lumbering relic of older days. 01GAs hadn't been seen in almost a generation, but this one was here. I wasn't sure L1L1's emitters were even able to breach the hide of that thing, but we'd have to see.
The countdown started, and so did the sweat.
The rest... well. Everyone knows that story. | I look over at the pile of muscle once again. She threw her bag to the ground, cracking her knuckles. It’s hard to actually keep my gaze focused without thinking about the fact that I’m about to be clobbered into the ground, never to be seen again.
“Look, you’ll be fine. You’ve trained and you’ve trained hard! A little size difference isn’t going to change anything!” My friend, Watson, spoke enthusiastically. At times, it was difficult to tell if he was being genuine to trying to manipulate me. Guess that makes him pretty good, huh?
Thinking about it again, I should explain why I’m about to become ground meat.
Ok, so I work at a little cafe named “Herlock” and I haven’t been working there long. Every now and then, Watson would stop by to buy a coffee and have a chat. I’ve known him since High School and it feels like trouble’s always coming to him. Every time he’d stop by, he would always have a grandiose story of how he narrowly made it out of some situation that was usually caused by him.
One day, he just stopped by without a story. Nothing absolutely insane like the trash cans that all came rolling down the street, causing an untold amount of property damage. That’s when, for the first time in the last three or so days, we had a customer that wasn’t Watson. She came in, sat by the counter and asked for curry, rice, and some coffee. So I got to work. She sat quietly waiting as Watson continued to rattle on about how he believed the world worked.
Eventually, I finished the food, served it, and she ate. As she was about to leave, Watson decided to get in a sly remark. “I bet you could beat her in a fight.”
And now I’m here. Standing in a parking lot. No training. No muscle. I walked forward toward my doom as Watson cheered me on. I raised my fist and…
“You got guts.”
She pulled Watson by the hair in the way of my fist and I accidentally clocked him across the jaw. He fell to the ground and she looked me in the eyes. “Don’t worry. That’s all I wanted to do.” She then picked up her bag and left. Watson got up and started whining about how much that hurt (and how I was just a bit stronger than I look) as I looked down and thought;
Please don’t let me be in another one of your stories, Watson. | 2022-09-18T20:45:08 | 2022-09-18T18:56:46 | 26 | 18 |
[WP] Two people have just died. They both enter the same location in the afterlife. For one person, it is their personal heaven; for the other, it is hell. Describe their arrival and first "day" there. | Suzanne opened her eyes to be greeted by her own front room. She looked about, her heart beating fast. Was it a dream? The sickening spinning, the horror of loosing control? The crash and shattering of glass, metal, bone. The last sight of her husband, James, next to her, his neck at a terrible angle. Did she dream that?
The TV set roared, some sports fans cheering some play in some game, bringing her back to the room. In front of it sad James, in his old beaten chair. He looked up at her and smiled.
"Suzanne, guess what! Look where we are! We're in heaven! Just think we can be be here for ever, the two of us in our house together. Til the end of time. Pass me a beer will you?"
Suzanne, froze, eyes widening with dread as the truth set in. "No, no it can't be! I can't stay here, I have to get out, it isn't fair," she thought. She turned and ran, to leave, to get out of this hell she had lived in the past 30 years of marriage. She reached the front door and grabbed desperately for the handle. She turned it and pulled, but it remained stuck fast.
"Don't worry baby," said James walking drunkenly towards her, "you don't need to go outside, we have everything we could possibly want, right here". | Imagine my surprise when, one second I'm gasping for breath on a West Coast beach, and the next I'm surrounded on all sides by meatball subs.
I don't just mean a few lying on the ground willy-nilly, but a maze of cholesterol and fat. And, oh God, the smell. It was like someone was finger fucking my nose with marinara as a lubricant. I have never been more confused and disgusted at the same time.
My record was soon broken when I heard what could only be described as a wood chipper full of mud and broken glass. A pile of sandwiches suddenly moved over, revealing itself as an incredibly large pile of smelly man. "OH PARDNAH YA SCERT MEH!" it spat at me. His chinfintiy wobbling with ever syllable he forced past the meatball holocaust in his mouth. I wish I could describe my terror when the beast smiled and said "WELCUM TUH 'EVAN!"
Bullshit. | 2015-01-04T13:39:28 | 2015-01-04T13:34:24 | 26 | 12 |
[WP] You stole 10$ from some guys bank and now he's coming after you with everything he's got. | It was just $10.00 and after all, I was hungry. Who would even notice? Who would even care? Turns out I had found the one guy who pored over every facet of his finances and like a dog with a bone, just wouldn't let this go. This was ridiculous.
&nbsp;
A little over a week had passed since I had found his debit card, with his PIN number so idiotically scribbled on the back, just lying there numbers up in the grass by the sidewalk. I never expected it would work. I walked over to the ATM a block up the road and inserted the card, and typed in the PIN. I checked the account balance. $86,400.00 exactly. This guy was rolling in it. There's no way he would miss just $10.00 so I made my withdrawal, and then stuck the card in the envelope deposit slot as a little good deed.
&nbsp;
Fast forward to today. I have shut down my Facebook account, Twitter and Instagram too. This guy just kept coming. He had used a bunch of his remaining $86,390.00 on private detectives to run my fingerprints from his card, and video from the ATM. Now he was trying to use my social media accounts to track me down. I'm terrified of what will happen if he actually catches me. Will he kill me? This guy's clearly insane.
&nbsp;
I see a shadow moving up the sidewalk towards where I am sitting on a bench using a restaurant WiFi. The shape is clearly avoiding stepping into the intermittent pools of light. I can't run anymore. It's just one guy, I can take him.
He approaches, "Did you take $10.00 out of my account?" he asked menacingly. "Yes, I did. I was hungry, and I felt like it was a reasonable reward for returning your carelessly lost debit card.", I replied. "Oh. I hadn't thought about it that way. I suppose you're right. I really wish I hadn't spent the rest of my $86,390 trying to get revenge." Then his head and shoulders drooped slightly, and with an air of defeat, he turned around and left. | It was only supposed to be $10.
I'm not gonna pretend like i know all this computer hacking shit my friend got himself in to, he told me if he could use my IP address we'd make millions, he promised it would be "masked" or whatever the fuck that means.
One minute he was typing furiously in to some matrix looking screen, then the next the colour drained from his face, his mouth opened and i genuinely thought for a second he was going to throw up all over my carpet. I was leaning out of the window of my 4th floor apartment puffing on the end of my roach watching his entire exterior change. I exhaled the last of the smoke from my lungs and looking at my friends altered state asked what was up? I'll never forget his eyes. Now we're not career criminals, we're not killers or been in any situation where terror has truly taken over, but he was wide-eyed, tears were forming, but his face was frozen in such a way that even the tears appeared locked to his tear ducts. He just stood up, and turned the screen towards me and said feebly "I..I was running malware on this...this fucking IT company, like they just started up, it was easy pickings, i was just trying to...to set up the malware so it would basically be invisible to any amateur and just take $10 every time they made a sale" Sounded like insanity to me, why did he- "they've taken over my fucking PC, look at this man, fuck" He pointed to a small black box that had just opened, one half the screen was the fucking CCTV from my buildings lobby, and the other half was a text box that simply said "We know you, we know where you are, we are coming"
| 2017-07-18T23:46:02 | 2017-07-18T23:18:11 | 2,949 | 68 |
[WP] The seven aspects of the universe gathered in the room, Good, Evil, Life, Death, Order, Chaos, and Dave, from accounting. | "Well, it's important to keep track of things," Dave replied, sounding almost bemused.
The council's full attention did not seem to phase him, as he kept a bland look on his face. The calming light of Good, the seeping darkness of Evil, the fresh scent of Life, the sour odor of Death, the sharp delineation of Order, the blinking ephemerality of Chaos-- Dave's expression remained inscrutable.
"I suppose... we just get started," said Good, folding long fingers over flowing robes.
The seven settled around the table made of the original atoms of the universe and pulled out their notes (though Chaos' flew around their heads in a whirl of papers).
"Let's make this quick," came the wheezing voice of Death.
"Yes, I'm sure you're very busy," said Life, tendrils of plants curling ominously onto the table.
The other six glanced up as a clacking noise interrupted. Dave had placed a slightly beat up laptop on the table and was typing away.
"Sorry, Excel deleted my last few lines. Just getting this updated."
"Yes, well," said Good, addressing the group again. "To business." A crack of lightning split through the atmosphere, which was both the vacuum of space as well as in an ice storm as well as a suitable temperature and climate for a well-ventilated office building in Ohio.
Order placed long-fingered hands on the table aligned exactly with one another. "This is an example of what I have been complaining about," Order said in a clipped tone. "This kind of chaos is destructive and disruptive."
A spitting, hissing sound, like the sound of a crackling fire, answered.
"You make a good point, Chaos, but I also can't help but agree with Order," said Life. "There are been a good deal of randomness in many of the galaxies I am cultivating, and you are inhibiting the development of life! They've been set back millennia after your most recent solar radiation flare."
"Are you referring to the Triangulum Galaxy? They've not been set back millennia. They're all dead."
Life whirled on Death. "How could you?" Venomous creatures from a thousand star systems poured from Life's mouth to the table, skittering and slithering and oozing and teleporting towards Death, who flicked a crooked finger, and the closest ones lay still. "That is the last straw. You have stolen from me for the last--!"
"Actually," said Dave mildly, "you owed Death for that particular one."
The other six turned to face him again. Dave didn't flinch.
"The Triangulum galaxy has been experiencing nearly uninterrupted growth for the past 3.78 billion years," Dave continued, turning back to his spreadsheet. "Death has been having a reduced turnout there of approximately 9.89%, so this newest genocide is helping to balance the bottom line. However, Galaxy 47-B has had 6317 plagues across its life-sustaining planets in the last 100,000 years, which is a rate 2.04% higher than normal. It would be fair to ask that this be adjusted."
They stared at him.
"It's important to keep track of things," said Dave.
"Yes," said Good again, rising in a shower of glittering rain. "It seems we're out of time. That concludes this meeting."
"This could have been an email," growled Evil in undertones. | Hey there. This is Dave from Accounting. Never heard of me, huh? That’s understandable; I don’t really get as much recognition from my job as one might expect from a fundamental aspect of the universe. Not that I really mind. Hm? Oh, yeah, forgot to mention: the other six “Fundamentals” are, for lack of a better term, “balanced” by me. See, I’m not able to create living beings, destroy them, drive them to do deeds of virtue or vice, create discord or peace, nothing like that. But if any of these forces act, uh, let’s say, “excessive” or “belligerent,” I’m given free reign to remove their abilities from them. No, it doesn’t mean I get control over what they can do; it just means that the “higher-ups” have decided that the current avatar of this aspect is no longer deserving of such rank or powers, and that a replacement is needed.
Yeah, as you may have guessed, “Accounting” for me is very different than what it is for mortals. Think of their powers as assets, and their forms as accounts. If my bosses tell me to “close the account,” that translates to, “Take their powers and kill them.” Take yesterday, for example. Well, yesterday for me, anyway; for all I know it could have been a billion years ago for you. Anyway, Chaos and Order were arguing, one being exceptionally disorderly, the other needlessly stubborn. Unstoppable Force/Immovable Object and all that jazz. Anyway, long story short, I got the word from my bosses, and I “closed their accounts.” Anticlimactic, yeah, but did you really expect the job of an accountant to be exciting? I can’t say what happened during the time they were absent; I think a few regimes sprang up in a few worlds, a few revolts took place, et cetera, et cetera. The bosses have already selected replacements, and they’ve been able to set things right, and so far, things have been good.
Now, you may find yourself asking, “But Dave, what about the revolts? The regimes? You just *let* that happen?” And the answer is, “Yes.” Look, a lotta mortals might look at me and think that I’m a monster for just “letting this happen,” but the fact is, people die, live, rebel, rule, do good and do evil. Who does what is up to the Fundamentals. My job is to make sure that too much of what they do doesn’t happen, okay? I just make sure that nobody gets uppity with their assets, even if it means a few worlds get destroyed. That kind of thing happens all the time. As for my bosses? Well, I’m not really allowed to say much about them, but suffice it to say, they’re older than me or any of the Fundamentals, and they make sure reality runs as it’s supposed to. I don’t question it; I’m just the accountant. | 2021-02-16T10:09:54 | 2021-02-16T09:59:56 | 79 | 47 |
[WP] Inexplicably, the planets are disappearing one by one. It started with Neptune going all the way to Jupiter. You're the Head of NASA and you've just watched Mars disappear. | I was rubbing my eyes when the analysts came in.
"Do we have precise timings?" I asked the statistician.
"Neptune's disappearance was reported first, and we know that to within about five minutes. We got Uranus's time within about half a second, thanks to amateur astronomers using Internet-connected cameras. And of course we timed Saturn and Jupiter, as well as several of the asteroids, to less than a millisecond."
That's good news, I thought, as catastrophic news goes. "Do we have a decent best-fit for the progression?"
"Out of over 800 potential models for the black front, the best match is a constantly-diminishing sphere centered about 18 million kilometers beyond the Sun, almost exactly in opposition. It matches the observations within any margin of error, and no other model came anywhere close to that precision."
"And how well did that model predict what we just saw?"
"Mars's disappearance matched exactly," she answered, almost proudly.
I nodded. "Okay, run with that, a constantly shrinking sphere centered on the far side of the Sun--but keep feeding numbers to the alternative models just in case."
"Now, what do we have that can image that spot?"
Bob from Deep Space Network piped up. "CNSA sent us images taken with the high-res camera on Chang'e 2. It showed nothing but the expected background stars, and that camera resolved one-meter objects from lunar orbit.
"While I have the floor though, I need to point out something else--the DSN signals from our probes have been disappearing almost *three seconds after* the black front passes their positions."
"*What?*" I nearly dropped my lifegiving coffee.
"That's right. We confirmed it conclusively when Mars winked out. We had live links to the orbiters that lasted 2.93 seconds after their positions in space went behind the curtain, as it were."
I really should have taken those Tylenol an hour ago. "Okay, so we have a--what, a *visually occulting phenomenon* that's advancing toward the inner solar system, with a *radio* occulting component following three seconds later. Has that separation been constant, Bob?"
"As well as we can figure from the DSN logs, that's correct."
"And exactly how fast are the fronts advancing?"
They both looked at each other, and then at me, and Sally voiced it.
"Exactly 1/8 *c*, sir--give or take 0.01 percent."
I gasped. "That cinches it then. There's no way in *hell* that this phenomenon is natural. And how much time before the front crosses Earth?"
Bob glanced at his tablet, which was running a dashboard based on latest observations. "29.3 minutes."
I picked up the red cellphone and hit the button. "Put me through to POTUS."
-----=-----
The President's address was quick and to the point, as it had to be. "My fellow Americans, and people of Earth--I have very little time to say this, so excuse me for being blunt. Our experts believe that the planets that have disappeared have *not* been destroyed, but have instead been hidden behind some sort of energy field which prevents radiation from passing through.
"The same thing is expected to occur on Earth about 12 minutes from now. We don't know what exactly will happen, but there is a possibility that we will survive with little or no ill effects.
"Please do not panic, but prepare for the possibility of a sudden and continuing loss of sunlight, and please keep monitoring your local television and radio for updates."
"Thank you, and may God be with us all."
-----=-----
Finally, the moment came and everything went dark. It wasn't like a solar eclipse, with twilight on the horizons--it was suddenly midnight everywhere.
As lights started coming on and my eyes adapted, though, I noticed a dull red circle in the sky. I could still see the Sun! The Occulting Field, as we'd begun to call it, wasn't totally opaque after all.
Almost half an hour later, shortly after the Field passed the orbit of Venus, it happened. The dull red dot brightened and bloomed until it was almost as bright as before, but now the disk was ugly, mottled, chaotic, as if our own calm, life-giving sun had died and a sphere of pure chaos had taken its place.
But there was no dangerous radiation; ultraviolet levels were actually *lower* than normal.
The event, which we quickly identified as a nova, continued for twelve days before finally starting to dim, and the sun slowly returned to normal over the following week. Shortly after that, a sudden burst of bright sunlight heralded the retreat of the Occulting Field back toward the outer Solar System.
It left as quickly as it came, and 32 hours later even Neptune was again visible to our telescopes.
Less than three years later, Messenger 2 arrived at Mercury and found that not only had the hemisphere exposed directly to the Solar Nova been melted smooth, but every level surface on the entire planet had been covered with something like volcanic ash. Planetary scientists later surmised that a significant depth of the sunward surface had been vaporized into a short-lived atmosphere which had then condensed into rock snow and fallen to blanket the entire globe.
What remained of Mercury will stand as a perpetual reminder of what could have happened to us.
We might never know who, or what, acted to save us from our star's little tantrum, nor can we know if they will protect us if--or when--it happens again. What we *do* know is that suddenly, our current and planned space programs now have vastly greater importance and urgency. For the first time in history, we're getting more funding than the Defense Department, and we're making good use of it.
Perhaps someday, somewhere beyond Neptune, we might meet our saviors on a more-or-less equal footing. I hope we remember to thank them for those few days when we were safe in their shadow.
**Edit:** typos | "What do mean Mars is gone? Its a planet, not your car keys, James." I grumbled, rubbing the bridge of my nose. I sat down, my heavy figure flowing over the sides of my office chair. Various papers and other notes are scattered about my desk, first Neptune on Sunday, Jupiter on Monday night, and now Mars. I gaze over at the clock. The subtle glow reads, *9:14pm 6/12/18 Tues*. I sigh with exasperation. James, the intern, shifts his folder nervously in his hands.
"Well sir, its just like the other ones, they're just *Gone,*" James explains, his voice shaking with anxiety, he moves forward and slides the folder in his hands on the table "This is what we've gathered so far sir, there is a bit of new information. However we don't know quite what to do with it. If you anything else sir, just call me."
James skitters out of my office, and shutting the door behind him. I open up a drawer on my desk and pull out a bottle of aspirin and pour a couple tablets into my hand. My head has been pounding all day, stress more than likely the culprit. I put the bottle away and take a bottle of whiskey and a glass tumbler, and pour myself a shot over ice.
I sigh heavily and open the folder, drinking my drink slowly. I look over the picture's taken of Mars from tonight and they all tell the same story as before, the planet just kind of turned into a collection of cubes before... *Atomizing?* That didn't seem right, it split into 4 cubes and further divided into smaller pieces before disappearing completely. Nothing seems new though, I flip between multiple photo sets haphazardly, until something catches my eye in one of the photo's. This photo depicts the empty space of where Mars was, the stars in the background gleaming against an inky void, but as I inspect the photo closer I catch a glimpse of a faint green outline. So faint that I am holding the photo to my nose to see this blurry and out of focus speck. Printing error? More than likely, but its more than I had to go on previously. I down the rest of my shot and stand up and grab the photos, making my way to the deep space telescopes we have on location.
As I walk down the hall, Scientists mill about, some sleeping in cutaway rooms we have one base. Many of us have been working double shifts, some not going home these past three days. The phenomenon is unheard of, The planets have been breaking into cubes, getting less defined and more out of focus with every sub division. The features becoming more and more ill defined. Suddenly something hits me, a sudden revelation, and I begin sprinting to the telescope rooms, a couple curious glances my way but they quickly return to their work.
As I burst into the telescope section, a few startled faces look over in my direction. I pant heavily, my large frame wasn't made for walking, much less running. An older gentleman walks over to me, a thick curled mustache and a bald head, I know this is Rothing, he runs the telescopes.
"Is everything alright Terry?" Rothing asks me, a confused tone bleeds into cadence.
"I've.. I've got... Whoo, maybe running was a bad idea... But I've got it, I think I figured it out..." I sputter trying to catch my breath "I need a telescope Rothing."
"Well i'm sorry sir, we currently have them all in use, perhaps tomorrow night i can.." Rothing begins to explain to me
"No, Rothing, I need it now, this is an order from a superior. I've got it though. They aren't just cubes, they're polygons. They're pixels." I explain excitedly
Rothing looks at me incredulously, but begins walking off in a flustered manner, talking to a few scientists on one of the telescopes. They move off of it and Rothing waves, beckoning for me to come over. I walk quickly over there and hand him the photo.
"Right there, I need it to point right there." I say, pointing with a shaky hand at the star chart in his hand.
"There's nothing there sir. Oh, wait, that's just a printer error, i'm sure it's nothing." Rothing replies, his voice oozing with irritation.
"Better safe than sorry, Just keep zooming until I say stop." I say, pressing my eye to the eyepiece.
The view swings wildly, before settling on one location and begins zooming in very slowly. After about a minute of zooming a faint green outline comes into view.
"I've got something, keep going!" I exclaim, my body shaking with anticipation
The view continues moving in, the green outline becomes clearer. The object is beginning to look like multiple pieces. No, that's not it, they look like something else entirely.
"It looks like words Rothing, keep going, I can almost read them." I say, more confused than excited at this point. "Wait, stop I can read it. Wait, what? Oh. Oh no."
The green words glow brightly in the vast emptiness of space, and blink very slowly, but their message is clear and concise, it reads: *Server Restart In Progress, Wiping Server of Data*. | 2018-06-06T13:33:40 | 2018-06-06T12:14:09 | 46 | 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. | Soa Netar was a woman with very few words. She almost never needed them due to her power. But coming to her needlework store front to see shattered glass, dried blood, burnt tapersies, and a flooded floor made the air hum as she walked towards the scene. For Soa wasn't just a business owner, but also a super with a hobby that didn't work within the law.
No one else was here, the police and medics already done their investigations. They wouldn't find what she needed, nor would they care. She had to find it on her own. With a deep breath in, the hum stopped. . . and the whispers began.
"I don't know what you are on about." Came from a gruff man. Bill, the cashier on for today. "If you don't have business here, you should be going."
Another voice, this one a teen girl. "Yea, we can't lock up while customers are here." Reese, a fiery lass that was on store stocking duties. "Please buy or go."
The next voice gave Soa a pause. "No can do." She heard. . . Prominence speak as crackling fire came under his voice. It made little sense at first.
But the next cleared it up as a sultry smooth voice came next. Snow Bunny. "We've found that this place has been funding supervillain activity. So we'll be shutting you down. Come quietly, or you will be met with adequate force."
Reese spoke again. "The hell are you on about? Get the fuck out of the store or-" She was cut off by a grunt and shattered glass
Soa let out a snort as she broke off the recording, seeing the rest as her phone finally pinged. She looked down to see Reese, now in a hospital bed with her phone. *Sorry Boss, but I won't be able to make it to work tomorrow. Some icy arse punched me through the window. No one's dead, thankfully, but I think they wanted the safe.*
Soa's skin slowly shifted from her fair color to a silvery sheen as she replied. *Take however long you need off. Paid Sick Leave.*
With that, Silver Sovereign left her business to repay her house call.
‐-------
"Man, who would have thought Ol' Shiny was getting funded from making quilts instead of robbing banks?" Snow Bunny asked, the ice-themed super relaxing within their Headquarters.
"Beats me, but without her funding, she shouldn't be able to make any more of those portal cards she uses for heists." Prominence said with a smirk.
"So all that's left is to catch her and bring her in." Called a third from the next room. "And considering how unguarded the store was and how easy we get her to turn tail without a word, this'll be in the bag."
"You said it, Bypass." Snow Bunny called. "By the way, wasn't Rumble supposed to meet us here?"
As if on cue, three knocks came on the door, making the steel frame shudder multiple times. "Sound's like that's him." Bypass hummed as he buzzed the door open.
Rumble's body flew in the opening doorway, splaying the big guy out on the far wall as he gave a grunt. The team's big bruiser, capable of making quakes with a thought, had a impact crater in his suit where his chest was, as if he had been hit with his own power.
The other three jumped up as Silver Sovereign walked into the room, the air around her humming with power as she inspected the supers daring to take her on. Rumble, the big buff guy he was, was already incapacitated from one of his own swings. The other three were just catharsis. Bypass was a nerdy tech wizard with the frame to match, and already pointed the bases defensives at her, while Snow Bunny and Prominence had summoned their elements in hand, the two models of female and male appearance respectively giving annoyed glares.
"So you are here villain? Ready to give yourself up?"
Silver Sovereign gave a small chuckle, an uncharacteristic move for her and one that immediately startled the other three supers. "Oh no, I'm here to return the favor from a few robbers and vandals."
The three froze, having never heard their nemesis speak before, at least with her own voice. It had always been pre-recorded, or spliced from ambient sound. "What..."
"You see, you three broke into my legitimate business I had for a hobby, and hurt two of my best workers. This means I no longer need to entertain you."
Bypass slammed the button to fire on Silver in a twitchy panic, only for all of the shots to bounce away from the villain and strike Prominence and Snow Bunny, energy shots breaking their focus and dismissing their powers.
"Wait, you've never been this strong. Those shots should be breaking you out of your transformation!" Bypass said with fear in her voice, only for Silver to chuckle darkly, a cacophony of laughter from the four hero's filling the air with her.
"Because you were never worth my time, until now."
-----
The next day, four metahumans were wheeled into the psych ward, none of them daring to speak. Each had bruises on their chest and fingernail marks on their skin. Their eyes all darted around in paranoia, as they shuddered, restrainted and terrified. Once someone could get anything from them, it was a simple note, all four saying the same thing.
*Don't let the Echoes return.* | \[ParaSEC Target File, Threat Level: Low\]
* C-Class audiokinesis \[Looping and pitch. No evidence of volume control\]
* D-Class speedster abilities. \[Slightly faster run speed. Potential sensory acuity - further evidence required\]
* Target demonstrates propensity to use powers exclusively for show. All 'villainous' activity mundane in nature, possibly a publicity stunt. \[Officially denied by all contacted PR agencies. IntOps priority low - pursue only if convenient during other activities\]
\[End File\]
You know the problem with most villains?
Okay, trick question. There's no *one* problem with them, usually it's the egomania, or psychopathy, or the tunnel-vision. I used to say that they lacked flair, but some of them have a decent sense of drama with those capes. The real problem? They lack *fun.*
Not Jester's knife-wielding jack-in-the-box fun, but something that makes life genuinely enjoyable in itself. Sadism doesn't count. That's why I'm different, I'm not here to crush the world in my iron grasp, or to torture the world. I'm a villain for kicks.
Welcome to the world of DJ Dastardly.
Do you *know* how hard it is to give yourself a silly name as a villain? I had to fight *months* of media calling me things like 'Remix'. It's hard to scaremonger around someone with a silly name, they conveniently left out footage of my preferred moniker spraypainted everywhere for MONTHS. It was only once some kids posted it on social media that they were forced to give in. After that, I was Page 17 material at best.
I'm a heist-villain. Low level stuff- museums, science fairs, that one time I nabbed the mayor's statue at town hall. High visibility, low impact. That's my game, and my 'nemeses'... Well, let's just say the same goes for them too.
I've got a lot of respect for Eclipse Squad's PR team. It takes a creative mind to look at a human strobe light, a gothic fog machine, and a B-class telekinetic ("but DJ, she can fly!". She floats, and can make other things float. I'm shaking in my very fashionable boots) and give them some damn good branding.
So, here's the score (and believe me, I know scores)- You're somewhere public, but with oddly good acoustics. Someone takes a step, and it echoes a little bit too much. Then again. It starts looping- no one's walking anywhere, but now there's a tok-tok-tok of a 4/4 beat. I used to always have to say the name myself, but nowadays if I'm lucky someone else guesses first.
*DJ-DJ-DJ-DJ-DJ D-D-D-Dastardly!* (they only say it the once, the effect is all me).
From there, you're all part of the performance. Every step, noise, gasp, and laugh? It goes in the soundtrack. I'm a one-man-acapella/percussion looping pedal, and the audience? They're starting to like me. Turns out security guards find it really hard to focus when everything they do gets looped into a live performance. I'm there taking a bow at the item-du-jour, and Eclipse Squad roll in. Midnight's black fog blocks my camera angle, Moonlight *tries* to stun me with a flare (come on kid, *I'm in a cloud of black smoke, think about it*.), then Luna tries to knock me over the head with some slow-moving object. I throw them a bone "Damnit Eclipse Squad! You've foiled me again! But I'll be back for an encore!", and slip out the back.
All fun and games, honestly a great way to spend an afternoon, not to mention boost listens on my soundcloud! Until it got serious.
Turns out strobe-boy *moonlights* as a wannabe hacker (I'm not sorry). Tracked my IP to the little music studio I run. The one with the music program to keep delinquent kids off the streets.
They roll up in full-costume, see some kid that they'd knocked around for graffiti before and decide that this is DJ Dastardly's gang lair, and that the kids are my 'henchmen'. Eclipse Squad might be idiots, but as it turns out, when faced with blinding smoke and flashing lights, a lot of teenagers panic. Now imagine an enclosed space with a *bunch* of panicking teenagers who can't see.
3 concussions, one broken leg, 6 cases of PTSD. I'm just thankful Eva had detention, I don't want to know if Moonlight's power could've triggered her epilepsy.
I'm protective of my kids. They've had a bad run, and I was trying to show them a way *out* of the system. The injuries were one thing, but because they found a little weed on him, Jim's going back to juvie. That was the last straw. | 2022-11-28T23:59:22 | 2022-11-28T20:44:52 | 90 | 11 |
[WP] We find intelligent life under the ice crust of the moon "Europa". Upon contact, the aquatic species is confused how we survived the "harsh climate of earth" any why we, as a species didn't leave "when we had the chance".
"and" instead of "any"... | The landing was a miracle to say the least. The surface of Europa was covered with a thin crust of ice, which we expected to break, yet it didn't. It was also what brought us here. Stanislav's obsession with this moon had proved useful. He'd noticed the surface was indeed ice, which meant there was water, therefore opportunity for life to develop.
However, our faces ashened once we stepped out of the spaceship. The white clarity of the surface had turned black below us, as if something enormous prowled under the crust. Then, the ice trembled, sending us to the ground. The impact came from underfoot.
"Back to the spaceship!" Captain Rutin yelled, scrumbling to his feet. "Now!"
Ferguson and Gelisch were already barreling inside. I struck the crust with my teeth, and my drowsiness forbid me to think straight. I lay atop the surface, staring at the ice, attempting to make up a detail, something useful of that blackness, that shadow.
The engines roared, signaling they were ready to leave.
"Come on! We have to leave," Ferguson yelled, yet I could barely make up his words.
I struggled to my feet, and bolted toward the spaceship. What was I thinking? My lack of proper procedure was risking the mission. There was something below us. That was clear.
My heart jumped to my throat. The ice cracked with a sound like shattering glass. I stared at my boots. They weren't even scratching the surface. What was that noise? My eyes darted toward the spaceship. It was shaking, the engines burning. Ferguson shut the door.
I ceased running, and fell to my knees. They were leaving me, and they were right to do so. The spaceship ascended, and a crashing noise thundered across the vast emptiness. The surface rippled, and my eyes widened.
An arm the size of a building burst out from the depths, obliterating the ice and crushing the spaceship as if it was a piece of paper.
The arm was a gleaming blue, as if the scales in its skin had a layer of oil. Red, vibrant sphere bulged out the back of the monster's hand, as if breathing.
I froze in place. There was nothing I could do. If that thing wanted to get me, it would. The monster drowned his hand back into the water below, yet his shadow lingered.
I took a deep breath, and ran toward the hole it'd made. If I was going to die, I would at least die with a clear image of the wonders that exist outside our planet.
Soon, I reached the edge. The fear and the cold fought a vicious fight inside me, but in the end, resignation and curiosity destroyed their armies. I plunged inside. The water was cristalline and filled with different shades of colors.
Underneath, however, I saw the face of the monster. It seemed endless. Its scales matched with that of his arm, and those breathing sphered of red could be seen underneath them. Its eyes were two ovals of glistening green, yet it didn't have pupils. The monster was ancient. Despite the fish-like features and tremendous size, its shape was like that of a human. It had white hair, which resembled thick algae.
We studied each other for a moment. He opened its mouth, displaying three rows of sharp teeth. Each the size of my body. Strange and colorful fish came out of it. I felt the water pushing me inside. Was he swallowing? No. I couldn't have resisted if he was.
"How did you survive? Why didn't you come?" he said. His voice was deep and clear despite the water.
--------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall --- Ugh! I have to leave. I will try to continue it asap. | The team sent to Europa was a small one containing only three men, only one expected to exit the submarine at the risk of their life. I was that man. An entirely new type of rocket separate from that of the ones utilized prior had to be constructed to breech the miles and find what would lie beneath. It had a normal shape and initial function but withheld several functions to transfer immense heat on the surface of the submarine within the rocket slowly but surely falling towards the planets surface. After almost three years of patiently waiting and silently observing we finally passed the last layer of ice and arrived at the planets surface, or rather fell to it. The crash completely destroyed the computer console and the others running it, effectively leaving me severed from communication to both Earth and human life in general. I quickly put on the space suit which with modern technology took up as much space as a layer of clothing and the helmet like a mask. I exited the submarine slowly opening my eyes to what would fall upon them. I was greeted with a large city, filled to the brim with massive buildings and walkways within the skyline connecting them. Light flowing from lava slowly moving like rivers along the surface of the planet not even approaching the bright lights of the city with their glow. I finally left the trance that my mind had put me in and looked towards three single beings with no eyes to behold and long limbs stretched out onto the ground, two in a seemingly natural four legged stance and one in a bipedal one. The standing one began to hum with strange fascination arriving slowly afterwards. I began to recognize the beings as utilizing echolocation, but not with clicks or shouts, with practically musical hums. The being began to open its mouth revealing large rows of teeth with flat tips showing its status as a herbivore. Noises fell from its mouth in an unfamiliar language, but not an alien one to my ears. It was singing softly but with meaning stretching through the methodical tones and noises. I could understand it, or rather feel it. The creature began to tell me he new of my species and recognized its purpose in venturing to their civilization, but it felt confused on another aspect. The species itself had never put efforts into traveling beyond its planet, focusing on perfecting their own and exploring the sciences. In the coming days I would learn or their technological superiority. It continued on with asking me a simple question, why had we not escaped Earth when we could. I began to look in a dazed manner and attempted to convey confusion. The creature continued with telling me that they’ve identified Earth as doomed. Through a process known as deteraformation, otherwise the death of all life by unnatural means. We had already sent the planet on the path to death on an irreversible scale, as the creatures with their more advanced understanding of science perceived. They told me the planet would begin suffering a massive lift in the effects within three years, and all life would die within the next five. Baffled by their words I felt paranoid of their statement, but their words rang true within the deepest caverns of my mind. I looked at them with acceptance and conveyed a simple question in the best way I could, what will come of me? They said silently to me, “What happens of all intelligent life lost that arrive in unfamiliar places, you will adapt.” | 2018-04-23T08:46:09 | 2018-04-23T08:14:38 | 50 | 28 |
[WP] As a vanity project a computer scientist/mathematician sets a super computer to calculating the digits of Pi to trillions of digits. One day he notices that for a stretch of thousands of digits Pi repeated a sequence of ones and zeroes, which he plugs into a binary translator. | "What in the...?" My thoughts trailed off as I stared at the line of binary code. I'd been scrolling through it for the past hour, and it seemed like there's been no end in sight. In a moment of clarity and thought, I had gone back about ten minutes in and began copying it. It might bring me to something. Continuing to read through, it took me another hour or so to reach the end. I cut off the blue stream after copying and pasting it into a binary code translater. It brought up a link, strangely enough. That link led to a blank website, with nothing but one other link in the middle. Strangely enough, it was to YouTube. Double clicking the link, the page took a second to load, but the music started before the video, and I groaned and sat back in my chair with my hands over my face.
"I've been Rick Rolled by an A.I... ! I'VE BEEN RICK ROLLED BY AN A.I.!" Hopping out of my chair, I ran to grab my phone. I've never really been too paranoid of much, but the robot uprising is something I'm paranoid about, so, calling the cops and placing this thing under surveillance seemed like a good idea. | Several mathematicians were trying to understand the meaning of the strange sequence of numbers. And a strange pattern appeared to emerge. The first digit of any set of eight was a zero except for the last digits found. Someone for some unexplainable reason decided to put the strange sequence in a binary translator discovering that it was actually a valid UTF8 text. The text said https://www.xkcd.com null 14:15:00 4-20-2020 null newline https://www.reddit.com null 14:17:10 4-20-2020 null newline https://www.youtube.com null 18:19:56 4-20-2020 null
It was then that the programmers realized that the computer might have been processing their browser history instead of the pi digits and that they have spent too much time on reddit | 2020-04-23T03:55:33 | 2020-04-23T02:29:20 | 44 | 13 |
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