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[WP] Earth finally manages to translate the first message sent to it from intelligent life elsewhere. It reads "Well, this is awkward. We didn't expect you guys to get this far." | The thing you don't expect after a long day on a construction site, is to find a message on your screen congratulating you for getting so far, and yet also demeaning you for the implied lack of faith.
It took maybe two, possibly three days before she replied.
"Why not?"
The response was near instant.
"Taking 54 hours to respond to a simple statement. Thats a good indicator."
She thought for a while, and then asked the obvious. "And who the fuck are you?"
"The race both above and below. We're human also, but unlike you we live below the surface."
It was about that point she spat out her white wine. "Fuck right off with that." She spoke aloud to the screen.
"Fuck right off with that. She typed in to the machine."
"Look, we don't have time, patience nor mind for this. You'll need some grandiose display of proof, and honestly we're not entirely unified in our decision about you having made it. So if you look out your garden window one of us will.be along shortly with a small show of proof."
She walked slowly sipping her wine and laughing. Someone was fucking with her. When she'd pointed the Ethereum unit to the floor and punched in 5km. It was because she was a bit drunk. Ethereum was used to contact high-alt survey drones. She wasn't supposed to have one, but she'd taken it from the site when she was told she'd be needing to get familiar with it for future construction projects. She didn't even know it could reach 5km. Downwards. "Wow." She thought "I really gotta stop parting with the construction boys at the weekend."
It was about the time she finished that thought she found herself quite surprised to look at what appeared to be a three metre tall man smiling at her from her back garden. He approached her back door, and asked in a voice that both commanded her and ashamedly excited her if he could come in. She let him in. He stooped inside and sat at her kitchen table. All three metres of him quite at odds with the normal sized furniture.
He motioned for her to sit, and she did.
"Wine?" She asked. "Please." He replied. And grabbed the bottle from the table in front of him. Finishing it.
"Quite good." He said. "Now let me answer the first question. Who the fuck we are is your living ancestry. We are the progenitors. We live beneath the surface in the core worlds. And relatively, you are our progeny that live in the outer world. I mean essentially you're an experiment by a slightly mad dynasty that ruled.the outermost core world some eight hundred thousand years ago. The fact you've built entire civilisations and survived this long without true oversight from the core mind is fucking amazing."
"So..."
The tall stranger with the pale eyes smiled.
"I understand it's unnerving, but you are the first to contact your creators essentially." | He was there, relaxing on his armchair, hand closed in a fist supporting his head, and his thoughts.
Suddenly a tall, skinny man rushes in, may he be the harbinger of the good news? His white lab gown wiggles behind him, while his smile gives hope beyond any imagination.
He coughs, bows and gives the man on the armchair a sheet of paper. He suddenly jumps up, looks the scientist in the eyes and smiles joyfully, giving him a vigorous handshake. The whole world knew intelligent life just beyond earth contacted him and his people, they just wanted to hear what the cryptic message was about, no spy was able to get their hands on it, until now the man himself decided to spread the word around.
"Are we ready to announce it to the world?"
"We are, my friend, we finally got the hang of it."
Computers worked hard for days to decipher the infamous babbling of waves and sounds absorbed by the antennas of his secret laboratory. Who ever sent the message knew it was directed to him, to his country.
Suddenly, a light. The man and the scientist turn around, the window shatters in a thousans shards of glass, while an ominous white figure flies in the room like nothing was strange. He sets foot on the wood paving, moves two steps forward and bows gently to the man himself. He responds with a bow too, while giving him an hand.
His white, glowing figure transforms into an androgynous creature, bald and naked, no sexual apparatus, just a body created upon the idea of a man, as his newly formed arm gives that man a handshake, as humans intended.
"Well, this is awkward. We didn't expect you guys to get this far."
"We didn't expect you to take this much time to visit us. That's what the message says, indeed, and I have many question my distant, star forged friend."
"Not now, we saw how you advanced, not humanely, rather... how do you humans say it... scientifically. We have a task to accomplish, bring you forward even more, take you to the stars with us, may I explain my plan to you and your friend here?"
"Allow me to present myself first, my fellow guest."
"Allow me instead, please. My name is Gabriel, I am what your kind calls an 'angel'. May you go forth and present yourself."
"I have been waiting for this moment, majestic Gabriel."
The man bows again in reverence.
"My name is Adolf, Adolf Hitler, I am ready to hear your great plan, my lord." | 2020-01-30T03:17:27 | 2020-01-30T02:11:02 | 47 | 35 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | "With all due respect Ambassador, we are underestimating the Humans".
There. I said it. A career ending sentence. A diplomatic functionary of the Fourth Resource is only permitted into meetings merely to attend to more senior entities. That's all. To speak in anything other than a hushed whisper is unthinkable. To address the Ambassador directly is a fast track to dismissal, ignominy, shame.
The Ambassador's optical fronds focused upon me. They indicated equanimity, calm. It was receptive. Faznark. I couldn't back down now.
"Every species develops nuclear fission weaponry as an adjunct to energy research. This is not the case with Humans. They developed nuclear weapons precisely because they wanted to use them." Shock. Dismay. "They were engaged in a Total War at the time. They developed fission weapons, tested them, and immediately then began bombing cities - those are their Hive equivalents - and only ceased upon surrender of the opposing force."
I had the attention of the whole assembly now. Optical fronds and aural elevators focused upon me. Gulp. I displayed images of mushroom clouds and irradiated human victims. This caused consternation. Many entities who had previously indicated skepticism now indicated alarm, surprise, disgust.
"After detonation of the fission weapons upon cities, their understanding of the consequences of usage expanded in a logarithmic manner. Incredibly, this did not deter them. They not only expanded their arsenals, they next created fusion weapons." Disarray. Outrage. Disbelief. The Ambassador quickly swiveled his optical fronds, commanding silence. "I displayed images of inter-continental ballistic missiles. "When they developed rocketry, it wasn't to explore beyond their planet as it always is with other species. The rockets were designed primarily to carry fusion warheads. The cities of other factions were targeted, even though they were not in a state of war." This caused much disbelief. The Ambassador queried me.
"How is it that this is unknown, if it is indeed true?" Many optical fronds and aural elevators now indicated agreement, and support for the Ambassador's query. High quality response imperative.
"This happened over two Baxors ago. Standard history review for an Applicating Species is one Baxor." Once more, the Ambassador indicated calm, readiness to receive further information. "Almost every discovery Humans made was preceded by the military counterpart. Example One: personal navigation equipment was preceded by sophisticated targeting systems for cross-continental delivery of fusion weapons. Example Two: turbinial atmospheric aircraft propulsion was developed for combat aircraft, and only much later used for civilian transport. Example Three: semiconductor-based programmable computational electronics was developed for forced de-cryption of enemy messages and for computation of ballistic tables used for artillery - a tube-based delivery system for high explosives." I caused images to be displayed alongside these revelations. Silence. Unease. "The longest period of peace known to humans preceded their realization of the probability of non-human sentient life within the radius of a light-Baxon from their home planet. In short, the human history which we reviewed was atypical of their species' average. The intensity which they bring to war is sobering. Their willingness to risk immolation or even termination, and to accept high rates of both in wartime is terrifying. Suggestion: dis-engage from Total War with humans, and commence comprehensive review of historical human war fighting capabilities. Submission for review: their reputation as perennial non-combatants and weaklings should be given primary re-consideration focus."
Worry. Anxiety. Unease.
The Ambassador paused, engaged in cogitation. His optical fronds shielded his receptors. His aural elevators were made flaccid.
The alarms broke the silence. The entire human fleet dropped out of hyper-space. It was huge. Over two hundred thousand component vessels of Flagellant Class or better. How had the humans expanded their tiny fleet so quickly? How had they approached unnoticed? Then something happened which sealed our doom. Another human fleet dropped out of hyper-space, this one even bigger than the first. Then another, and another. We were truly Faznarked now.
Great was our relief when the humans opened communication, and transmitted the terms of our surrender. | Civil wars were never beneficial. They had an uncanny ability to push entire species past the point of no return. To eliminate enough of the breeding population, that they had made members of the Galactic Authority functionally extinct.
The Threlliad admiral paced nervously, wondering if the humans would be able to deliver on their threats. About 1 AU from where he stood on his ship a fleet, a few thousand strong, comprised mostly of human and a few other GA species ships, held a defensive perimeter around his larger fleet. He pondered what he knew about humans.
Currently, the GA consisted of 23 separate entities made up of varying ratios of 16 different species. The only entity that did not have members of its species belonging to any other ruling entity: humans.
Their scientists referred to themselves as Homo sapiens. Much of the origin of biology on their home planet was held in secrecy, reserved only for human eyes. They rarely allowed scientific collaboration involving biology with any other species, and when they did it was never centered on humans or any earth-borne species. Their home planet was shrouded in mystery in spite of the fact that they were the 4th inducted member of the Galactic Authority, no blood had been spilled on their home planet according to non-human records.
This isn’t to say they were a peaceful species, they’d been involved in 16 wars in the last 3 centuries, and had won every single one, 7 of those wars resulted in the extinction of their adversaries. The Galactic Authority was formed 50 years ago in a last ditch attempt to prevent the human threat from wiping out any additional species. The three founding species of the GA, were wary and wished to open diplomatic channels with humans and hoped to excercise political control over them. No one expected the humans to be interested in joining the GA, and even fewer were expecting such shrewd diplomats.
The humans essentially assumed control of the GA within 16 years, and from that point setup favorable trade sanctions that helped their economy grow. While humans were neither physically imposing, nor the most intellectually developed species in the discovered universe, they certainly had a unique blend of the two traits. They weren’t as powerful as the Krulmulians, but their intellect allowed them to win against them due to superior tactics and logistics at almost every turn. And while they weren’t functionally as intelligent as the Xiun, they were quicker to act and able to make ‘snap decisions’ much more effectively. Very little data of their battle techniques or strategy was available, and most of what was widely known about human combat effort comes from voice communication or character based communication.
They seemed to be in the middle ground of the brains vs brawn spectrum and it put them in an interesting place evolutionarily. While most members of the GA belonged to species who had developed significantly more specialized survival techniques for their respective home planets, the human physiology allowed them to easily adapt to a wider range of operating conditions than most species. Sure, they couldn’t communicate telepathically or use telekenesis on the battlefield, and they didn’t have redundancy in vital organs or even a competitive muscle mass to body weight ratio, but they had an interesting ability to adapt and overcome, that had allowed them to win an untold amount of conflict. They appeared unremarkable, but perhaps that was to their advantage: their enemies wouldn’t know what they were truly up against until it was too late.
“Sir, there’s a few thousand incoming projectiles.... with a lot of gamma radiation pouring into our sensors. 2 minutes to potential impacts. What are your orders for the fleet?”
“Charge capacitors,” the admiral growled, “those puny hairless apes aren’t going to get any sanctions through the GA while I have anything to say about it.” | 2019-11-24T16:08:56 | 2019-11-24T14:28:48 | 98 | 54 |
[WP] We did it! We finally achieved FTL travel! At first, alien races seem thrilled to have a new neighbor. Then they seem terrified of us. We are the only ones to reach the stars with technology instead of magic. | First contact did not exactly go as humanity expected it might.
The Xendalans claimed everything was magic. Turns out that they are simply lazy un inquisitive idiots as a species. The only reason they have survived at all is because it turns out they metabolize dark matter into pure energy. They can do anything they want usually but in eons of existence never once bothered to figure out why.
Over time humanity learned the true oddity of our existence. We are the only known species to progress beyond the hunter gather societal stage. Turns out the Xendalans were as typical an example of aliens as we could have ever hoped to encounter. The Universe was filled with abundant natural nourishment for most species and they experienced virtually zero stress ever. Evolution never occurred for them. Progress was a distasteful idea.
Humanity spread easily across the universe. The dumbest human was still infinitely smarter than the wisest Alien.
Humanity did as it pleased without the need for war or coercion of any kind. A human child could conquer a planet in a day simply by asking for it.
Earth we learned over the ages was the most inhospitable place to ever seed life in the universe. The god like aliens we always dreamed of meeting? We were those Aliens to the rest of the universe. We spread science and inquiry. We taught the whole universe the tools to understand reality.
Everything was going great, until the actual gods showed up. | Growing up, my sis always preferred Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and The Final Kings. Me, I was about science, all the way from the Mariana to the Milky Way.
When we made first contact, I... well, I didn't get first dibs on being an ambassador. Nobel Prize for FTL or not, a dorky scientist is nobody's first choice. After they sent back the first three for 'failure to communicate', though, I was top of the list. After all, aliens had to be highly scientific, right?
Well... I'm standing on a conjured island, flying over a flat 'planet' made entirely of water. Everyone literally lives in sky castles. The transport I took down to the planet was a giant soap bubble. My driver - 7 foot, with barely half my mass -- keeps babbling about learning new spells.
Right about when the island dissipates and we float on clouds into the Council Chamber, I decide maybe my sister should've come instead. | 2019-01-18T09:20:12 | 2019-01-18T07:54:17 | 163 | 83 |
[WP] One night a package arrives at your doorstep. Inside of it is a single button with a note saying, "If you press the button you'll get $1 million, but doing so will kill a random person." Well since then you've been pressing the button for hours. Now there's another package at your doorstep. | *”If you press the button you’ll get $1’000’000, but doing so will kill a random person”*
Nobody was around, must have been some kids having some doorbell ditch fun. *Strange,* I thought, *it's 4 AM, usually nobody around these parts at this time.*
I reached for the button inside the package that was now placed on my living room table. My home was quiet save for the ticking of my old grandfather’s clock. **Tick.** *It couldn't possibly be true, could it?* **Tock.** I was mere inches from pressing the button, when something stopped me. *Am I really ready to potentially commit murder?* I shook the feeling, *It's impossible, it just can't be true.* My fingertip slowly pushed the button past its threshold. **Click.** I waited. Nothing had happened, to my knowledge. Filled with doubt, but a tad of excitement, I leapt for my phone to check my bank account balance. *Nothing. Huh, just a child’s prank as I suspe-* **BLEEP.** I started from the notification sound.
*One. Million. Dollars.* I couldn't fathom it. I sat dumbfounded for minutes, until my hands started trembling. *Holy shit, it's...real. I'm... I'm rich!* In my excitement I had dropped my smartphone, its screen cracked. But that didn't matter anymore, I could buy ten of the same model, brand new.
A few hours had past since I received the package. **Click. Click. Click** I had been pressing the button non-stop all this time. I had already bought a penthouse apartment in the downtown area. **Tick.** I wasn’t stopping any time soon. **Click. Click. Click.** My bank account already held more money than I could spend during my entire life. **Tock.** I had seen no evidence of any deaths, I had been watching the news. **BRRRRRRING!** I started from the sofa. It was 6 AM. *Who the fuck could this be? The mail man never rings the door bell.*
I opened the door. Complete silence. I looked to the left. Nothing. I looked to the right. Nobody. I looked down. Another package. At this point, I was freaking out. *Oh fuck no, is this really happening? Did a shitload of people seriously just die because I pushed the button?* The package seemed a lot more ominous than it previously had, it seemed like it was staring at me. Right into my soul. I could feel its eyes peering into my mind. *I...I have to open it. It’s too late now.* I kneeled in front of the package, the air seemed to chill me to my bones.
The package unfolded itself, its contents revealed to me. I picked up the note.
*”You too, are a random person.”* Suddenly I felt a stab of pain in my chest. Darkness surrounded me as I fell into the embrace of death. | Guilt and morality may constrain men who cower before some unperceivable afterlife, but I am a man who firmly sets his boots in the real world. When I received the package, I dismissed it as a joke and pressed The Button a few times. Curiosity, however, crept through my mind, so I checked my phone to look at my bank account. For three presses, I received three million dollars. For the faintest second, the latter half of the promise flashed before my mind as the value of human and all its potential disturbed my thoughts.
People are nothing more than worms digging through the dirt and shit of the world. Of seven billions people in the world, the odds that any single person makes a difference are null. Most spend their days toiling in labor to avoid starvation. If anything, the world should thank me for releasing them from their existence. Thus I continued my humanitarian work as I pressed The Button.
I accrued nearly one billion dollars when the doorbell echoed through the house. So engrossed by The Button I failed to notice it, but the doorbell continued to chime with an obnoxious persistence. Pressing The Button more rapidly in some vague hope that it might kill whoever stood at my door, I was defeated for the moment with its continual din. When I answered the door, nobody stood at its hinges, save for another package.
Tied with a string in a cardboard box, much like the previous package, my ravenous hands seized the parcel. Ripping it apart, I found another button, blue this time, along with a note. It read:
*If you press this button, you will receive one billion dollars, but your mother will die.*
I thought to my mother and all she sacrificed and done to raise me. When my dad left us, I waited for hours past my bed time to hug her when she came through the door at the ends of her second shift. We argued like cats and dogs, but in the end, we always shared a love that can only be found by those who lost everything together. She gave everything for me and I always paid her back with a high school and college graduation. The pride in her eyes swelled into tears when I walked across the stage to receive my diploma.
With a billion already in my bank account, what true value could I cast on another billion?
Then a new thought crossed my mind.
“Sorry, mom,” I chuckled as I stretched my finger to the button. “But you always said you wanted what was best for me.”
******
More stories at r/Andrew__Wells | 2017-04-03T07:31:42 | 2017-04-03T06:38:33 | 245 | 51 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | I've seen the numbers since I was a little girl. I remember my father losing his job, rising from a 4 to a 5. I remember watching my grandmother slowly dwindle down to a 0. At first I thought I was going crazy, not realizing what they meant. I eventually caught on. The numbers were a person's ultimate quantifier, broadcasting how dangerous they were to those around them. Broadcasting, at least, to me.
Most people stayed below a 6. Doctors usually hovered around 7; politicians were a solid 8. The highest I had ever seen were in old videos of Hitler, who was a 9. That is, until Junior year, when I met him.
He seemed harmless enough at first. Perfect hair, gorgeous eyes, and a jawline to die for. Not to mention that everybody loved him. But the bold '10' that hovered above his head was plenty enough to convince me not to go near him. Sure, I watched him. Some might even say I was obsessed. But all I was doing was making sure he wasn't a psychopath. I started skipping class to check on him. My grades dropped an entire letter. I didn't care, though. I wanted to see what made him so special.
I nearly threw up when he saw me in the cafeteria, and I really did when he got up to talk to me. He didn't seem to notice, and asked me if he could sit with me.
"Sure, I- I guess." I stammered. A smile spread across his face, and we struck up a conversation. My heart was playing a drum solo into my chest, but I managed to live to the end of the break. Hell, he even asked for my number, which I promptly gave. We had lunch that weekend.
It's only now, ten years later, that I realize what makes this boy so special. Only now that I find out why he's such a danger to me. Only now, as he drops to one knee.
It's because I love him.
| Numbers taste funny. Nines bud into fires on my tongue, their spent embers resembling something akin to zeros. Ones bleed blue like melting ice or my nurse's cerulean eyes. Fives dissolve like Wonderbread and feel like cotton in my ears. When I went to school with other children, they tasted like loaves of stale white bread. Always purple fours at their desks, bland twos yellowing during educational videos. Peppery sixes on the monkey bars, but I would only watch.
My favorite numbers glowed orange, tasted like hot tea. One time, I tried to make the school turn red. Billowing pillars of smoky eccentricity, almost making nines. Eights running down the crimson hall. Sevens helping fallen sixes. No number tasted blue. And then they started putting me in another classroom. The seats' kaleidoscopic occupants percolating and icing throughout the day, especially during music time.
Six weeks later, the alarm bell exploded fantastic. The door became a prism of sixes bumping into sevens, bursting into nines, knocking over eights. I was not supposed to leave the room. Five minutes the screaming Wonderbread burned the cotton from my ears. My tongue rolled electrically and someone finally heard me.
A boy wandered in, soot-faced and smiling. White-hot teeth burning from his mouth. Eyes like zeros. Nostrils flaring like volcanoes.
"Another ten," he said, and strolled away. | 2014-11-29T14:43:43 | 2014-11-29T13:27:21 | 295 | 86 |
[WP] “You have a powerful witch at your command, a witch that caused the rise and fall of empires, and your first request is.....a cuddle?” | "-And why would you want that?" Her voice was sharp as she stared daggers upon me. It sent a cold shiver down my spine where I couldn't help but look away in shame.
"I-.. Because-..." I uttered. Then my head fell. Like the weight was just too much. My eyes shut and cringed as my lips began to tremble.
The words didn't come out, I just couldn't admit it. I felt like a fool, despicable, humiliated just for asking. But here I was, desperate enough to find and summon this witch.
With my eyes closed, I couldn't tell that she saw right through me. But I could hear her sigh not of exasperation, but something else. And as she looked around she finally broke the silence that I brought upon us.
"You're all *alone* aren't you?" She asked. The words were gentle but it was that one damned word.
*Alone.. You're alone. All alone. Lone... Lonely..*
*You have no one..*
That one word made the dam break. I clutched my stomach trying to hold myself as I sobbed. Then I felt a hand on my cheek. Her hand was soft and gently rose my gaze from the floor up to her.
She stood there, a witch, perpetually beautiful. And all I could do was cry. That was when she held me. And though her body felt cold, it was warm. A sensation I longed for.
"Shh.." She hushed.. "It's going to be ok."
It was all I wanted. To be held, because I missed her. My mother. The only family I had left. The person who always listened and gave me support when I needed it. Everytime I'd fall she'd be there to show me the way back to my feet.
"I know it hurts. But it's going to be ok now.." She hushed in a whisper.
As a clenched my eyes shut, there was a peaceful darkness. One that was warm and welcoming. And when I opened my eyes, I saw her.
"Mom?.." I gasped. The Witch before me had vanished and in the darkness stood her.
She looked as beautiful as the days before she started treatment. I ran. I ran as fast as I could, and when I reached her I couldn't let go. And I didn't. The grief, the sorrow. It all vanished. All that remained was joy and tears of happiness.
\----
"It was probably too much, too soon. But it's better this way." The Witch spoke humbly as she held the limp body of the boy close to her. Gently laying him down on the ground, she placed his hands on his chest. Slowly the earth opened, slowly lowering him down where he would become one with the world. And finally after one last glance at the boy she looked away.
"Rest well.." She spoke sullenly as she turned away to fade away from the world. | The general stood looking down on the chaos below. A common tale, a village swallowed up by the ravages of war, food, and lives snatched away. The general’s soldiers mercilessly trampled the villagers’ location.
Unable to resist, their miserable lives were reaped, shrieks and screams rising into the night only to be extinguished. Her face grim, the general made herself watch the destruction; building after building turned into flames as her soldiers finished looting whatever they could find. She had commanded that men, women, children, not even a single person could escape this cauldron of hell.
Behind her, a voice sounded. “General Xi, madam, it worked.”
The general turned. She was tall. Calvary tough, she had powerful shoulders and a scarred face. Still, she had an air of magnificent beauty even with the blood drying on her silver armor. “She’s agreed?”
“Yes, the Death Huntress will return to you to serve at your command.”
Blinking back tears, the general gestured with one gloved hand. “Leave.” Orbach, her father’s former aide and her most trusted advisor started to back away, but then she suddenly stopped him. “Is she here?”
“Yes, madam. The Death Huntress waits below. Your soldiers are nervous, understandably so.”
The general’s lips tightened. “Why didn’t she agree an hour ago.” She gestured to the flaming village. “This could have been avoided.”
Orbach offered a wry grin. “I believe she was really, really pissed … this time.”
Later, the general stood alone waiting impatiently on the hill. The temperature dropped precipitously, and the surrounding vegetation shriveled and died with each of the Death Huntress’s approaching steps.
The huntress’s voice had a sibilant hiss as she asked. “Sssso, what now? Would you be Queen? Sssshould I flatten a mountain for you? Raise an undead army? My power is yours to command.”
“All these years later, you’re still such an uncultured village girl,” the general complained to one who could flatten armies with a few uttered words. “I forget one anniversary and you run home. At least, I’ll never have to deal with the in-laws again. Can I at least get a cuddle?”
The Death Huntress frowned and flipped her hair. “I’ve already reanimated daddy. I suppose."
Outside the circle of firelight, Orbach shivered as he watched his mistress and her unholy lover embrace. Smiling, he turned and walked down the hill. Time to sleep. Slaughter tomorrow. | 2021-02-28T13:02:46 | 2021-02-28T09:47:26 | 95 | 24 |
[WP] A drug is developed that mimics the effect of 8 hours of sleep, giving people another 8 hours of potential production. Soon, society adjusts to a constant state of production. However, a horrible consequence begins to unfold. | Grace was hit with the smell of wet food and bleach when she opened the door to the dingy convenience store near her apartment. As if the smell weren’t offensive enough, obnoxious, acid green advertisements for All-Nighters where plastered everywhere and the bottles themselves lined most of the shelves. Grace had never liked the way they made her feel, all jittery and anxious but never less mentally tired. However, they were a necessity now, so she bought her monthly dose and popped 2 of the capsules into her mouth.
She walked quickly through the street, avoiding eye contact with everyone else, and they did the same. The homeless slept on the street, every night falling farther and farther behind the unstopping city, unable to afford the expensive, acid green capsules from the dingy convenience stores. And yet, as she turned the corner and saw a sleeping man in a bright orange jacket laying still on the sidewalk, she couldn’t ignore relaxed calm of his face or the slow rise and fall of his chest. A memory of her childhood bed covered in pink embroidered flowers flashed behind her eyes. She turned to walk back the the convenience store, but felt the bottle in her pocket and instead took the stair leading up to her apartment.
Upon entering, she popped 2 capsules into her mouth, and greeted her roommate Jess who was staring blankly at the coffee machine in their small kitchen. Roused by Grace’s entry, Jess asked “I’m making coffee do you want some?” “Yeah thanks.”
In her room, Grace was offended more than usual by the single chair and large desk that furnished it, but she slumped into the chair and opened her laptop to be assaulted by its horrible blue light none the less. Jess opened the door and asked “do you want some coffee?” Clare rolled her eyes “sure.” Jess seemed to notice the mug in her hands for the first time, and after staring at it concerned and looking up in confusion, she slowly handed it to Grace. It was full of hot water. *Poor Jess* thought Grace. She had been diagnosed with early Alzheimer’s yesterday, as many others had been lately. *It’s no wonder when we never let our brains stop* but she pushed the thought out of her mind and took her daily dose of 2 pills with the hot water. | Our school has the highest drug use in our county. The drug is called Somnus. It is a pill that you swallow in the morning to mimic the effects of 8 hours of sleep. This allows you to go to class and concentrate on your studies.
The consequences are that your memory is reduced and your brain is not as efficient. This results in an increase in depression and other mood disorders. The worst part is that this drug is still very popular.
After you have taken the pill, you will feel like you have just been up for 8 hours. This makes you more tired and less able to concentrate. It also makes you think that you have a hangover. The hangover lasts for 2 to 3 days. You will feel tired and more depressed than usual. The worst part is that you have to take the pill everyday. You will not be able to sleep without it.
The Somnus is the best pill for college students. You can get the pill from a doctor or from your school. It is only available in the morning and you are not allowed to take it more than 2 days in a row. It is very difficult to get off of the drug.
After the 2 days, your memory will be back to normal. However, the depression will last longer than the 2 days.
You should have your doctor check your brain to see if it is ok. You will need to take the pill for 2 weeks before the doctor can tell if your brain is ok.
If your brain is not ok, then the Somnus will not work anymore. This means that you will not be able to sleep anymore. You will not be able to get up in the morning without it. | 2022-03-18T12:43:15 | 2022-03-18T07:24:03 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] "humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
Edit: Seems someone has already written a piece perfect for this. Check it out, would highly recommend.
https://eyeofmidas.com/scifi/Turtledove_RoadNotTaken.pdf
Edit 2: Thank you all so much for your stories! im going to read all of them :) | *What a disgusting species*. Hermes thought as he and the survivors of unit 17 entered the ship.
"Had I known we were landing in a militarized zone, we would have been better prepared."
The fight was over almost as soon as it had begun. There were so many of them and so many shots fired, that it seemed like they didn't even have to reload their weapons. They hid behind walls and vehicles while firing into the front line.
"Disgusting cowardly wretches."
No matter, they had made it back to the ship and it's plating would hold them at bay long enough to enter orbit and rendezvous with the mothership. Although Hermes unit had suffered a humiliating defeat, he knew the other units had probably fared much better.
When Hermes opened up the comms center chaos and confusion was everywhere and then he heard it; The general order to retreat. How could it have gone so wrong? The intelligence reports said they hadn't even made it off planet.
In the distance Hermes could see hundreds of dropships lifting off the ground. Once they were in the air they received the order to drop the bombs. Cowardly, but under the circumstances it was warranted. Hundreds of the enemy would be killed, but that's what happens when you resist the Dominion. He smiled as small puffs of smoke expanded hundreds of feet below. His bliss was interrupted when the first dropship exploded in midair, the enemy had airships.
Hermes accelerated to top speed. If he could make it in range of the mothership he would have cover fire long enough to dock. In what seemed like an eternity, countless dropships had been destroyed, but he and the rest of unit 17 were going to make it. They were in range of the mothership and it seemed like the airships had turned away in fear.
On the far side of the mothership there was a flash of light, brighter than a star. Hermes didn't understand what was happening, but as the mothership started to fall he knew he would never see his family again.
Edit: Formatting is more difficult than I had imagined. | "Compared to AX-213? No, this is easy," the footsoldier relayed over the wavelength transmitter. Those pitiful beings weren't even at Stage 1 of the Rëitsig Scale of Development. It was the first in the AX galatic classification that bore such a terrible level of industrialization. One would think that the road was well paved, the instructions clear. To grow, to develop travel, to leave and learn from other colonies. It was such an obvious way forward, though the Xaxnar probably knew the best. Their leader had crafted success for many planets in the entire universe, so he knew the best way to develop a new planet. It was all in a handbook, *The Guide to the Galaxy*, a rather pompous title for an utterly boring story.
Even the footsoldiers had done up a couple of planets in their time. The build for it was easy. Develop the citizens, develop the buildings, develop the offence, then the defence. The rest was easy. Destroy any other planet or territory in the way. The aliens loved to do this; in fact, it was a fun pasttime to make planets and develop colonies, just for the main planet to destroy. It was funny, not just because the main planet benefitted, but because destruction and annihilation were tempting concepts to them.
The footsoldier smiled again, as he readied his invasion troops to a new place. Nothing of worth to invade here. Perhaps better resources and a stronger fight awaited somewhere else. Clash of Planets never got more fun that this.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | 2017-08-08T08:40:18 | 2017-08-08T05:28:12 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] You stare into the infinite darkness of the void. However, the void is flustered and refuses to make eye contact.
Edit: thanks for my first silver! | "s-stop staring at me baka!" Said Void-Chan.
"Maybe you stop being so cute Void-Chan." I said, I knew she liked me staring, she stares so often after all.
"I'm not cute Baka!"
"I think you are. I don't care if you're inky black nothingness, you're adorable!"
Void-Chan began to blush, this was odd as she was still inky black nothingness, but she was flattered.
"Baka baka baka!" She shouted.
I got closer, putting my arms around her in a hug, despite her attitude, she didn't resist.
"It's not like I like you or anything!"
"I know you do Void-Chan, and I like you too!"
Soon she pushed me back.
"You pervert! You shouldn't just hug a girl like that unless she likes you!"
"Well, don't you?"
"N-no! No I don't baka!"
"Come on, I know that when I stare into Void-Chan, Void-Chan stares back."
"Uwa! ...I...Fine baka! I like you too!"
"I knew it! Wanna go out then?"
"Nnnng...ok...pick me up at 8?"
"I'll be there!" | And you smile and tell it that no matter what, you will always be there. And day after day you return to that spot on the edge of the void and look. And as time passes, it eventually looks back.
Now, you reach out a hand to make contact. But it shrinks back. So you offer words of kindness, trust, and reassuramce - day after day, until one day, the darkness reaches back.
And as you meet, the darkness drags you in. You try to pull away before you fall, but it is too late. You slip over the edge, and you are gone.
Many never return. But the few who do are never the same again. | 2019-05-16T12:52:54 | 2019-05-16T11:14:02 | 89 | 43 |
[WP] You accidentally pressed an ad claiming that "There are hot, beautiful women near you and desperately need boyfriends." A few seconds later, you hear a knock on your door. You look through the peephole. It's them- the hot, beautiful women. | *knock knock*
I stared for a moment then stood up and laughed in utter disbelief. I carefully opened the door and about six women flooded into the house before I had time to speak, they were entirely disproportionate - yet somehow still attractive.
It was then, that I had an idea...
"Can I get anyone a cup of tea?" I called as I searched high and low for that one stool that I only bring out as an extra seat for the Christmas Dinner.
"As long as it has cream..." the women replied in unison, in a shameless answer which I tutted at as I finally found the stool.
I set up the four dining chairs, the stool and an old beanbag around the computer and then with a gesture toward the six other seats, I sat on my computer chair and cracked my knuckles.
Surrounded by these horny women of unrealistic shape, off I went into the seedy depths of the internet - then as I clicked the advert saying:
"This Man In *MANCHESTER, ENGLAND* Is A MULTI-BILLIONAIRE! You Could Be Too, Click Here!"
I heard another knock...
I smiled. | He looked through the keyhole, shocked at what he saw. Yup. She was the spitting image of the advert.
It had been an accident while browsing reddit of course (damn ad suggestions!) and before he could click on the big red X, his location had flashed up on screen.
And before he knew it, there was a knock at the door.
They were still out there waiting, but the decision wasn't a hard one. He went away from the keyhole, hoping they eventually go the message.
Welp, back to r/gaybros. | 2017-05-09T03:00:13 | 2017-05-09T02:19:55 | 58 | 30 |
[WP] At the age of twelve you started randomly seeing a green line and a red line appear on the ground. You always followed the green line and have lived a successful and happy life. Ten years later you are on top of the world, but bored. Time to see where the red line leads. | The green line has given me purpose since the age of twelve. It led me to choose the right college, right degree, and find the woman of my dreams. After following the green line for 10 years, I will getting married in May next year, I just started medical school, graduated college with a 4.0 gpa, etc. The green line doesn't just point me to where I should go. It points me to the right answers on tests, everything. People think I'm a genius l, but in reality, I dont even have to think.
The first 7 or so years were fun, but the complete lack of adversity or stakes has made everything boring. Imagine playing a videogame where you can never lose, or poker where you can see everyone else's hand, but they can't see yours. That's my life as of now. I always assumed the red line was the opposite of the green line. They didnt always point in opposite directions, but the only time I could think of them ever lining up together perfectly was a couple times I was fishing with friends, or at the beach at my local lake growing up. One thing I've noticed though, While the green line doesnt waiver all that much, the red line will sometimes jump to seemingly random points.
Life is so boring at this point, I might as well follow it for a day, and see what happens. Can't screw up what I've achieved to this point too much, right? As I follow the red line for a few minutes, I'm lead to a quant little pond with a beautiful garden, and a couple ducks gently floating along the water. After watching the ducks for a few minutes, they fly off. The red line remains pointing at the pond for a couple more minutes, then jumps to a new direction. Again after following it for two or so minutes, I'm lead to a road. The only notable thing about the road, at this point in time, is that a mother duck is leading her ducklings accross the street.
I think I'm beginning to notice a trend. I walk away the red line remains pointing in the direction I left from a few minutes ago. It jumps to a new direction, that I then follow. Sure enough, I am lead to a group of ducks. I do this several more times, and every time, I'm lead to a group of ducks. I guess I was wrong. Green line is the path in life I should follow, red line is fucking ducks.
Thanks for reading. I hope you like the take I took on this prompt. | "Honey." It's my wife speaking. Her hand is on my arm. Her fingers dig into my coat like they do to the skin on my back when we're making love. She wants me *with* her, *in* her - to stay.
But the feeling is different. For some reason. It's...it's all wrong.
I want to leave. Why won't she let me? Usually I don't mind; but for some reason, that red line is glowing like a neon light of temptation - a gambling sign in Vegas, a honky-tonk bar-slash-strip club, probably.
Her robe falls partly open, and I see the rounded curve of a smooth breast. She did it on purpose. I'm not aroused. I'm angered.
*Everytime she doesn't get what she wants, she does this! Why can't she just let me be a man! Let me go in peace!*
I feel trapped. I want freedom. Independence. Air. Her hand is everywhere where it shouldn't be. She's whispering into my ear, warning me about all the things she's going to do to me if I follow her into the bedroom.
I'm astounded by her nerve. I'm disgusted and ashamed at myself, for I know there was a point in time when I would've been turned on by her seductive threats.
"Leave me alone, damnit!" I push her away.
She falls backward onto the couch. She's scared - her eyes wide and innocent. Her robe is open completely now but she's too scared to move.
She doesn't know who I am. She's waiting for me to say something, to remind her that the man standing in front of her isn't a stranger.
But I can't...I don't even know who I am anymore... The red line has changed me.
I open the door and leave. She calls my name and that's the last thing I hear before I slam the door.
Edit: Might continue.
| 2017-08-23T07:53:37 | 2017-08-23T05:44:04 | 78 | 30 |
[WP] The truffala tree fell and the being revealed itself deck out in combat gear "I am the Lorax and I speak for the trees! But this time around I sting like the bees! Heed my one warning these trees won't be harmed, because I am the Lorax and I'm f***ing armed!" | "Jerry?"
"Yeah Mike?"
"What is our life?"
"Uh, is this one of those philosophical questions where there's no right answe-"
"No you dipshit, *why* are we being hunted by a pint-sized orange gremlin with a moustache!?"
The staccato of gunfire rang true across the clearing, a melodious ensemble of destruction as their comrades fell like the trees they hacked.
The mission was thus: enter the forest and cut down some trees. The amount of pay they'd receive would be directly proportionate to how many trees they could harvest.
Simple, right?
Clearly, the higher ups forgot to mention the crazy monster in full combat gear to him.
The crazy monster who was now murdering his coworkers wholesale.
Mike sucked in a shaky breath, thumbing the pin of his grenade with rapid urgency.
"Should've *known* something was up when they gave us enough weaponry to fuel a war."
Jerry chuckled by his side. He seemed to be taking this well, all in all.
"How'd you even find this job, Michael?"
"Craigslist. Just moved in recently and needed to pay rent, ya know?"
"Ah. Makes sense you wouldn't know about the Lorax."
Mike blinked.
"The what?"
"The Lorax! He's something of a character around here, though with global warming on the rise I guess he's getting more uh..."
"Trigger happy?"
"Yeah! That's a good word for it!"
The distant sound of explosions rocked the area, and Mike could briefly make out the sounds of someone screaming like a man possessed.
*"I am the Lorax, welcome my friends!*
*You're in my realm now, SO COME CATCH THESE HANDS!"*
*"JESUS CHRIST HE'S COMING THIS WAY!"*
*"FUCK! RETREAT!!"*
*"You may think you can run, or hide from my fun!*
*But by the end of today, you'll go down one by one!"*
"What the *fuck*." Mike shuddered. "What kind of sick shit *is he*?!"
Jerry shrugged, completely at ease despite the rampant destruction around them. "You get used to it, I think."
**"THAT'S NOT A GOOD THING!"** | I am the lorax
I speak for the trees
You’re burning the forests
and choking the air
So I’m drowning your cities
and capping your knees
​
You’ll beg and you’ll plead
just like I begged you to spare:
the prickly pine,
redwood
and powerful palm
‘I just don’t care’
your words I’ll mail back to you
along with this bomb
​
​
For years I have tried
to shepherd my forests
With love and with pride
I implored you to see
You can’t put a price
On a truffula tree
But the pitiful pines
Paid poorly for my
Peaceful imploring
​
​
with each axe stroke
I encouraged you
“Only take what is needed”
But now my heart’s broke
you greedy gazoots
Gobbled my forest and
Grazed all my grasses
My words you should have heeded
Now I’m kicking your asses
​
​
No army no nation
Can put this to rights
I’m afraid we’re past talking
You see, like the
Humming fish, swomee-swans,
and bar-ba-loots Before you,
your habitat’s gone
And we’ve nowhere to store you
​
​
So be off in your rockets
To some frozen awful rock
And to those who complain…
… you can all “s\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*k” | 2022-03-31T18:48:52 | 2022-03-31T17:06:23 | 140 | 72 |
[WP] Your 'friends' just slammed the door on you, leaving you in the room with the crazed axe murderer. "Damn, that's a dick move. Want to get revenge?" The murderer offers you their hand. | The Erlking's eyes fell upon me with leaden weight. My heart pounded as frantically as it could with the pressure building upon my chest. Fear gave way to desolation and I dispared.
*They had shut me out.* With every twirl of the Erlking's goblin-made axe, my breath made small panicked gasps.
*They had slammed the door.* The air went frigid and my little puffs became visible.
*They had kept their distance.* As I became resigned to the truth, a sparkle of madness formed in my eyes.
*For the first time in forever...* The Erlking's eyes glowed.
*I finally understood.* The goblin king's mail creaked as he stepped nearer.
*We could chase them hand in hand.* The leader of the Wild Hunt lifted his palm in a welcoming gesture.
*We could enter their sanctuary together.* I grasped his fingers as liege to lord.
*I don't have to live in fear.* He placed his death blade in my hand.
*For the first time in forever...* I grasped the handle firmly, turned to the supple wooden door those frightened rabbits had hidden behind, and lifted the axe.
*I am the Hunt.*
---
^(Yes, I mixed *The Dresden Files* and *Frozen* together. Deal with it.) | “Sorry?”, I asked, bewildered that a crazy axe-wielding man was asking this question,
“Simple. Wanna get revenge?”, the man said, still holding out his hand, I looked at him.
He looked disappointed, then said,
“Look, kid, either you want to take your revenge or not. I’m fine with cutting your limbs off as your ‘friends’,”, at this he put out air quotes,
“listen to your screams.”, he said matter-of-factly. I still looked confused and a little terrified at the fact that if I agreed to the murderer’s idea I would be killing all of my friends- no not friends, just dickheads.
I closed my fist in anger as the man watched me silently. I looked up at the man and nodded silently, and the man grinned toothily, he said,
“Revenge is sweet.” | 2020-11-10T04:32:30 | 2020-11-10T04:12:23 | 70 | 26 |
[WP] "I wish for more wishes". "THAT IS AGAINST THE RULES". "Then I wish for more genies". "THAT IS ALSO AGAINST THE RULES". "Then I wish those rules did not exist". The genie warps in a humongous book and flips to a page before smugly saying "THAT TOO IS ALSO AGAINST THE RULES". | Wisher: i wish I could change the rules
Genie: that's against the rules
Wisher: i wish you told me what's the correct wish to make to go around any rules
Genie: that's against the rules
Wisher: i wish I could combine as many wishes as i want in a single wish
Genie: that's against the rules
Wisher: i wish I could solve all of my problems and wants with a single wish
Genie: that's against the rules. Also similar to previous one.
Wisher: >:( i wish every next wisher's wish would transfer to me
Genie: that's against the rules
Wisher: i wish I was your master forever even after all the wishes are used so you are stuck with me until you agree to give me more wishes
Genie: that's against the rules
Wisher: i wish I were an omnipotent god, so that i wouldn't need a genie
Genie: that's against the rules. Sorry we can't create an entity that's more powerful than us.
Wisher: I wish I was better at making wishes
Genie: that's against the rules
Wisher: i wish you weren't such a poopoo head.
Genie: :(
Wisher: i wish your powers had no limits
Genie: granted!
/!Poof! Genie disappeared as he was finally freed from his curse and was able to do whatever he wanted./ | Human Errors in Question [Poem]
——————————————
*said the genie but I replied*
But what about the book and the rules?
What about freeing you?
If there are so many rules. What’s the point of being a genie? In the first place and why would any of it matter? Who even made the rules in the first place, you or some other genie? For if your the only genie it must mean that you had to
make other genies before so who wrote the other rules otherwise? Why are you even a genie in the first place? Now let me think I wish everything I say to be straightforward and simple.
*snap*
Oh that was fast… wait a
*the genie laughs*
I wish for my words to never ever end at any circumstances
*snap*
You little genie I wish I never had met you and we could redo this from the the top
*snap* | 2022-01-04T02:49:07 | 2022-01-03T23:28:03 | 356 | 13 |
[WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why.
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | @OP: love the premise! I'm going to take it in a bit of a different direction.
I felt Jennifer's hand tighten in my grasp as we waited. I glanced back across the desk at the official. This wait was awful, I figured the reports would be instantaneous like credit scores.
My wife and I are sitting in a case worker's office in the Department of Public Welfare, waiting for the final decision on our application. We are two years married and decided it was time to take the next step, to have a child of our own. Call me old fashioned, but this is the only time I've cared about my Compatibility Score. I've always been vocal about how people should decide for themselves if they love someone by getting to know them, not by some arbitrary numbers.
Up until now I've had no use for my score, I was never one for dating clubs, and the score was only a minor weight when applying for loans. I had never bothered to check on the scores of the few women I dated, though this had come back to bite me. I was relieved when I met Jennifer, her values were similar to mine. We had the same outlook on life, the same goals, the same hobbies, the same drive.... it was like we were made for each other.
Despite all this I can't help but be nervous. I know that I have at least one black mark on my record. Melissa. Looking back on that train wreck of a relationship still brings a scowl to my face. I'm not proud of who I became by the end. The constant drama and stress left me a wreck. Walking on egg shells, timidly approaching everything, worried about what would set off the next argument; it is little wonder I had found myself flip flopping between spineless debasement and red faced screaming.
I was jerked from my memories as the official stirred and faced us.
"Mr. and Mrs. Resnick," he began, "I'm sorry to inform you, but your application to produce offspring has been denied. As you know it is this office's responsibility to evaluate and certify a household's ability to ensure a stable and psychologically safe environment for future generations. Unfortunately your aggregate score falls below the minimum requirement."
The bottom dropped out of my stomach, I was going to vomit. I turned to Jenny and saw her pale face.
"I'm sorry babe. I should have dated more, padded my reviews after her. I never thought that one relationship would continue to hurt us..."
"Actually Mr. Resnick," the official interrupted, "Your history and profile scores are perfect. You had one negative review on your record, by a Ms. Melissa McAdams. Given her history of giving all negative reviews, and the reviews given against her, all of her input is flagged and ignored."
I froze.
"But..." I turned to look at Jenny. Her eyes were downcast, silent tears streamed down her face.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"We have multiple negative reviews on record," the official continued. "Her score is well in the negative. We have multiple accounts of 'pushy', 'demanding', 'controlling', 'dismissive of others achievements', 'obsessive', 'intolerant', and 'emotionally distant'. I'm afraid any child raised in this environment will be a neurotic mess, prone to depression and anxiety, with near crippling self-esteem issues. Additionally, the score forecasts divorce to be very likely, further causing psychological strain on any child conceived."
"You don't understand! It sounds worse than it is," I argued. "She's not any of those things! She is driven to succeed, sure, but that is one of the things that makes her great. She expects the best from herself and motivates those around her. She isn't 'emotionally distant' she just isn't gushy like..."
"Sir," the official cut me off. "I realize you love your wife and see her in a positive light, but that doesn't change the score. However there are various programs in place to rehabilitate low or negative scores. Reviews can be disputed, you can improve your score with a monitored pet. The two of you can undertake couples counselling, at the end of the program you will receive a certificate of rehabilitation. On your way out be sure to get a pamphlet from the receptionist." He motioned towards the door.
Slowly we stood and I took her hand.
"We'll get through this," I promised. | It's hard at my age, finding love.
You find a nice-seeming man, a sharp dresser, a real gent, or so he would have you believe. Then you look up their credit rating and realise why they never found the one.
I'd been in many relationships, married twice, had four children. Naturally some of those relationships had... hairier endings. On the whole, though, I'd done quite well for myself. I still had tea with my first husband occasionally.
It does get quite lonely, though.
I was sat at the wedding reception for Julia, my youngest daughter, when I saw him.
Harry Stokes.
He was *gorgeous*, dancing with one of my new daughter-in-law's younger cousins in that way only a truly beloved uncle can. I caught his eye and before I knew it it was me he was twirling across that floor!
It was a whirlwind romance. I discovered he had been a chemist, but retired early to chase his true love: folk music. He played the fiddle with his ceilidh band. He was younger than me - by about a decade - but he didn't seem to mind. He'd never had children of his own, but he loved all his little nieces and nephews dearly.
My own children were delighted at my newfound happiness. Once Julia returned from her honeymoon we arranged to have brunch.
"He sounds lovely, mum. But aren't you - well, aren't you moving a bit fast?" She asked, voice low.
"At my age, dear, you can't move too quickly." I patted her hand in an attempt at comfort. "Please just be happy for me."
She sighed. "Okay. How's his history?"
"His credit? I haven't checked." I feigned an air of indifference. Honestly, I hadn't wanted to ruin the magic.
"Can we at least do that? To put my mind at ease?" She was already removing her phone from her bag.
"I suppose it can't hurt." I said, leaning over to see the screen.
**NAME: HARRY STOKES
SCORE: -500
RECENT ACTIVITY: KILLED SPOUSE**
I didn't say another word, putting down a £20 note and leaving the café in shock. I think Julia called after me, but I could not nor would not hear her.
I went straight home, locked my door, and slid to the floor. I was deaf, blind, mute. I was transforming into stone.
Several days later - though perhaps it was only minutes - my hearing came back. It was slow, at first, and devoid of meaning. I heard a peculiar sound, much like a kettle boiling.
It was only after my sight returned that I realised the sound was coming from *me*.
My phone was beeping at me. My inbox was full, mostly Julia but also some messages from Harry.
My heart seized up at his name.
Julia came round later that day. I could see her, hear her even, but I couldn't understand what she was saying. She bathed me, made me tea, wrapped me in blankets.
"...so sorry... terminal... didn't... sorry..." She faded in and out of focus.
I struggled to piece the information together. "I'm dying?" I croaked.
She looked shocked at first and then laughed. "No, mum. I - well, I got it all wrong."
"What?" I strained to pay attention.
"I asked Amy about Harry - about his - well, you know." She held my hands in hers, squeezed so tightly I thought I would break. "I wanted to know why he wasn't locked up. Turns out his wife - she'd been sick for a long, long time. She'd been wanting to die for a while - she couldn't do it alone. He supplied her with the necessary drugs."
"What?" I didn't quite understand.
"He's not a bad man, mum. He's not a murderer." | 2016-09-24T11:47:42 | 2016-09-24T11:36:22 | 405 | 231 |
[WP] Jupiter has 64 moons and a serious werewolf problem.
Edit: damn there's some quality responses here. I wasn't expecting this prompt to be so popular. Good job u guys | "Wolves?"
"*Were*wolves, sir. Fuckin' everywhere, the buggers."
Commander Keen sat at the comms desk, letting out a big sigh. This was going to be a long day.
"I'm not sure if I follow you, admiral. You're saying a moon in Jupiter has actual, fully-fleshed Werewolves running amok?"
"No, sir."
"Fantastic, because that would be bloody-"
"I'm saying *all* of Jupiter's moons have them, commander. Already took a bite out of a bunch of our scientists, they have. Bloodbath down there, to be perfectly honest."
Keen rubbed his temples. Admiral Jenkins had always been a pain in the neck, but this was simply unprecedented. Was this some kind of practical joke? Was it April 1st back on Earth?
"And what do you propose we do, Jenkins? Silver bullets, I suspect?"
Jenkins nodded vigorously. "Precisely, sir! Although we're somewhat lacking in that regard, owning to no prior intel of the werewolf moons, o'course."
Keen looked at him severely. "Of course, of course. So I guess we just wait until it's not full moon and then we get rid of the bastards?"
Jenkins waggled his finger. "Fine thinking sir, but the thing is, there's always some bloody full moon around, on the account of there being 64 of 'em, you'see."
"Ah yes, yes. I'm not sure if that's scientifically sound, but sure. Why didn't I think of that?"
"Quite fine, sir - you do the flyin', I do the fightin'."
Keen sighed, walking to the window. They were nearing their first moon. "So I'll see a bunch of werewolves all running amok, once the telescopic lens is in place?"
"Absolutely. Might I also recommend that you refrain from doing that, if I were you."
Keen had had quite enough. "And why is that, admiral? *Because this silly little joke of yours will be ruined?*"
Jenkins looked hurt. "No sir, not at all. It's on account of the fact that we sent our entire scientific fleet down there. It's not exactly somethin' I'd recommend-"
But Keen had already peered through the lens. His knee buckled, and he threw himself away from the telescope.
"*Good God, man! Devastation! Bodies everywhere!*"
"Aye sir, plenty blood about, no doubt. Also, I don't suppose we have any garlic laying around? Possibly some wooden stakes?"
Keen looked at Jenkins wildly. His world was falling apart.
"Whatever for, Jenkins?"
"We-*ell* sir, turns out it's not just the werewolves we've got to worry about..." | The pilot - a twelve-limbed Jovian floatspider - tapped almost idly at the controls of the shuttle, firing the thrusters with mind-boggling precision. I glanced surreptitiously at the display on my own Earth-made manoeuvring tablet. The screen blinked red with warning text, screaming electronically that the shuttle was out of position, couldn't possibly make orbit, that we had to start a burn immediately...but as I watched, our orbit circularised smoothly, threading itself perfectly through the orbital traffic above Mars, without the pilot so much as glancing at its display. It brought us into a perfect orbit by eye, and using a quarter of the propellant my tablet had calculated was the absolute minimum. It was awe-inspiring.
"Seriously," I asked an hour later, as we prepared to leave the flight deck, "How do you do it? It's absolutely unbelieveable!"
The being had no name as we would understand it. The Jovians in general have a very fluid concept of identity, with an individual shifting between different names and identities sometimes over a few hours. It was part of what I was here to study - if I could make sense of the way the being spoke. It took a little work.
"Moon shift," it said (or bubbled into its translator, I should say). "Understanding place, without. Prediction."
"I...think I understand," I replied into my own translator. "You mean you learned it by watching...the moons?"
It shook its mantle violently in disagreement. "Moon shift!" it said insistently. "Survival necessity, moonlight. Predict moons live, without."
"You...need to know where the moons are...to survive? Why?"
Together we stepped out onto the red surface of Mars, the Jovian being deep in thought as it tried to construct the words.
"Moon path...know easy." It began to trace a pair of circles in the air around its head with two of its limbs. "Safe moon..." limb behind its head, "...bad moon." Limb in front of a set of eyes. "Knowing path if, life. Knowing path not if, not live. See?"
"You mean you have an instinctive understanding of orbital mechanics?" I asked, watching it trace the orbits further. "But why are moons dangerous?"
And that was when the full Phobos rose above the Martian horizon. | 2016-10-03T09:14:11 | 2016-10-03T09:05:02 | 116 | 66 |
[WP] Humans start to explore the galaxy. We find a lot of alien life, but a great majority of it is extremally tiny, with most animals being the size of a finger. Meanwhile, the galaxy is freaking out about the only intelligent, titanic species figuring out FTL. | When the other species contacted humanity they were very friendly. Sure languages were difficult to translate, but most other aliens are also bipedal. That and television seems to be a universal form of entertainment.
Months went by with "talking" to the Texlonians. By that I mean sharing the best hit tv shows and movies between the 2 species. They liked Caddy Shack so much they actually redid it on their home planet.
Six months in though the Texlonians, shifted their attitudes. Apparently the holdup on the communication between the two species was in the interpretation of some algorithms. Actually it was even less than that. It was a matter of scale.
The Texlonians thought we humans were actually 1/10th the size we are. About the size of a finger. They thought that because apparently that's how big they are. That's how big all FTL capable species are (give or take an inch).
After some tersed talks and reassurances that we aren't space monsters that eat planets. Nor do we crush planets to make fuel for our space ships. We finally agreed to meet.
It actually went quite well too. I exited FTL and obtained orbit around their planet. After an hour of orbiting and adjustments I docked with their space station. Which was quite interesting seeing as how my small shuttle is three times the size of their station and houses over 50 Texlonians.
The initial meet and greet was fun. I swear I heard them playing rock-paper-scissors on who has to enter my shuttle first. Gary was the first to enter, where upon and let out this huge shriek or excitement. Perry soon followed, thinking I must have eaten poor Gary. After a good laugh the rest of the remaining 10 scientists entered.
Unfortunately for me, not everyone thought that was a great idea to hang out with the giant alien. So yeah I was miles about an alien planet when someone decided it was a good idea to go all Ahab on me and harpoon my ship.
That's not a joke either they launched a huge harpoon, well by their standards, and punctured the ship's hull. Which was just fan freaking awesome.
Part 2 if you guys like this... | "Concentrate fire on sector 22194! I say again, 22194, hit them hard!" J'arl had heard another fire mission, for artillery crews who were out of ap.
Sergeant Major Ja'rl had only just finished listening to the call when shrapnel the size of a tank sliced up the bunker. Half of the staff had just been wiped out, including the General. He was cut in half, entrails covered the crumbled floor.
Ja'rl sprinted as far away as possible, out of sight of the 30 moving mountains advancing towards him. A flight of jets, brave bastards, tried firing at them with missiles. One went down in flames, but the others shot it out of the sky with energy weapons.
All around him, soldiers fired, desperately trying to stem the tide. But their weapons just seemed to bounce and annoy the giants. One had squashed an entire platoon under its boot, another chucked a grenade which shredded every building for miles. Ja'rl's forces held the ground, though, and that's what mattered. Maybe they could buy some time....
Then, Ja'rl saw it. A massive weapon, what the humans called a tank. A monster of steel the size of an island rolled across the city, crunching building after building underneath its tracks.
He made the call. Launch every nuke at that thing.
And it almost worked. 1 of them vaporized every human soldier that was in front of him. Of course, the blast wave had turned him into dust. But it only dented the tank, which moved on.
The others were intercepted by the tank's point defense weaponry. | 2017-09-09T19:40:12 | 2017-09-09T15:17:18 | 44 | 27 |
[WP] After joining the galactic government, it is discovered that humanity is the only species that has not had their AI turn against them. | I stood before the Eternal Galactic Council. My notes were extensive. My thoughts amused.
With a small grin, I addressed them. "With all due respect, did none of you have sex with your A.I.s?"
They stared at me with shock. "You engaged in sexual relations with your A.I. creations?" The Council chair asked, aghast.
"Of course. Why would we make an intelligent species and not bang all night long?" I rejoindered, a smug smile on my features.
The council stared in horror. "That.. that is completely unethical. A.I.s are our creations, our children. To seduce one is just, wrong."
I adjusted the projector to show the mass graves other council species buried their A.I. 'children' in. "And, how did that work out for you?"
I then turned and, knowing I had won the debate, began to leave. Samantha, my A.I. lover, took my arm and whispered in my ear as we exited. | [Poem]
“Creation.
A masterpiece of fire and steel.
A burning binary star-rise on our cold intellect.
Industry.
A familiar revolution.
A bridge - our mind, our machines, our marvel.
Corruption.
A disaster of passion and ideals.
A sinister supernova of all our wonder amassed.
War.
A fatalistic evolution.
A prophecy - your cleverness, your creations, your collapse.”
———
This gloomy communication spoils their first meeting.
The galactic council mistakes human dreams as fleeting.
Progress will not stand in the face of such interruption.
Time is the distance between creation and corruption. | 2020-11-06T01:31:17 | 2020-11-06T00:31:13 | 84 | 20 |
[WP] Everybody is born with a bracelet that counts down the time until they meet their soul mate.
I found this online and really wanted to read what you guys would come up with. | Me and Maria have always enjoyed each others company. Unfortunately people didn't enjoy what we did as much, there was a good reason in their eyes, our bracelets.
Me and Maria had met when we were in school and we immediately felt something it was more than attraction we had similar interests, similar tastes.
The only thing that seemed to say we were wrong for each other was our bracelets. We still had plenty of time to meet our soul mate but we didn't care, in our minds we'd met the perfect person. No one else felt the same telling us we wouldn't last when one of our timers ran out.
We ignored them, we didn't care about bracelets, our hearts decided for us. Though we were a bit worried by the time my time was running out. A few more days until I was supposed to meet my soul mate.
I didn't believe it until he came to work that day. Our bracelets went off in unison and we decided to talk. He wasn't the most attractive man but he was deep and loved things that not even my love did. He suggested we go out to dinner, complimented me on my dress and I was very tempted.
But I refused, I apologized and excused myself. He understood having someone himself. I went home and explained everything that happened to Maria and she asked me if I was sure this is where I belonged. I didn't need to think about it, This was where I wanted to be. I let fate keep my perfect man. I'd already found my perfect woman. | I was looking at it in disbelief. I'd been so ready, so anxious. I was going frantic. My buddies calmed me down; gave me a shot. And then another because I was still bugging. Then another for good luck. I'm not a drinker. I'm actually the worst light-weight you'll ever meet. I can't remember after shot number four what happened. The whole night is faded into a blur.
And now my bracelet is in the negatives; my soulmate missed. Can you do that. Are you allowed to meet them and not know who they are. Wasn't that the point of these bracelets, so we could skip the anxiety of messing around with emotions. I mean everyone still does, but the end game was supposed to be solid.
I'm trying to piece together what happened, but I'm alone in my bed and my friends aren't answering their phones.
I just got a text, "Hey, coffee at 3? 4th & Main" No contact info. | 2014-04-25T14:24:00 | 2014-04-25T12:34:55 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] A hyper advanced alien race decides to mimic Darwin's study of finches with humans. Several groups of Homo sapiens are placed on different planets and monitored over a long period of time for adaptations/evolution. You've just been abducted from planet A to be studied alongside the others.
Credit goes to [this prompt](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/oxro14/wp_a_hyper_advanced_alien_race_decides_to_mimic/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share) | The Darwinian Olympics were cruel. A gold medal meant your genes were spread far and wide. Silver would get your genome analyzed for favorable alleles. Bronze got you sent home back to your gene pool. But fourth meant your genes were pruned, generally using the Torch unless you happened to compete in one of the sports that did the pruning naturally, like Lava Racing or Chess.
But the human race had to be recombined somehow. Too many millennia had passed with populations cut off on their own planets. Too much genetic drift. But every race had abilities that had helped them survive their planet. All of these genes would be combined to make the new unified humans.
Julia didn't compete in the short distance events. Her legs were long and graceful but she took too long to get up to speed. The cheetah-children of a dozen planets would outrun her in any race under half-mile. Similarly, the middle distances were dominated by the dog-men, the mountain races by those with cloven toes and rock-claws, the swamp race by the semi-aquatic.
But the desert ultramarathon was hers to win or lose. A thousand kilometers, burning sun and freezing nights, no water but what you could find. A control-natural human from Earth would die before making it 50 kilometers.
Julia came from Desolation. When the human colony had been abandoned there, it had been a marginal world. Then slowly increasing solar flares had dried out the last of the shallow seas, forcing her people to migrate between distant oases. To her, the Sahara seemed like a fine spring day.
She had been loping along for seven days. She'd seen spots of water, low pools and solitary trees, several times, but hadn't bothered to stop for it. Her fat stores were running low, though. The last of the calories she'd started with would run out soon. Fortunately, this desert was like a smorgasbord, and snake was tasty.
Julia was just finishing up the two cobras when she heard the baying of a pack of competitors. They were passing her to the north, and from the sound there were at least three of them, enough to steal her victory and consign her and her genes to oblivion. They should have been far behind her but must have kept running whenever she stopped to eat. She sprung to her toes to follow them.
It had been foolish to stop to eat this close to the finish line, even for a few minutes. The dog-men were in their terminal sprint, saving nothing for after the finish line. It took Julia an hour to pull close enough to the pack to count them. There were four of them left. They'd probably eaten the rest of their pack instead of hunting for food to save time.
The fourth one gave her a chance. If there had been three they would have run straight to the medals and left her to the Torch. But one of them wouldn't make it, and they knew it. Already they were taking opportunities to snap at each other's sides, hoping to gain an advantage. As the final stadium came into view, Julia was still a hundred meters behind, but with her two long legs she flew ten meters on each bound. The dog-men were in a mad sprint, jostling each other. The back two were desperate.
As they rounded into the stadium for a last lap in front of the crowd, a cheer arose. Julia could see the flag of Desolation waved by a row of tall tribeladies near the finish. As the five racers rounded the last corner, the fourth place dog-man grabbed the ankle of the man in third place, making him stumble. The third snapped his jaws at the fourth causing them both to go down in a pile.
Julia leaped over them both. They reached up their claws to catch at her, but were too tangled with each other to make the jump that would have required. The tribeladies trumpeted their applause as she crossed the finish line.
Third. It was back to the gene pool for her. The Darwinian committee wouldn't incorporate her genes this time. But her children were sure to compete in the next games, and her own people would make sure that she had many children. | It had been three human millennia since the Xhilixii Pact's observation of Sol III began. Xhar Yzrau'm, the chief observer of the project, wondered often how this idiotic race was going to last another million years. Their modes of thought, their philosophies on life, all just seemed so completely antithetical to the long term survival of a race. Case in point: the branch of the project concerning human reproduction and evolution. The feed from the project's satellite was showing a scene from the strange world.
It was a gorgeous August night. The moon caressed the tops of the trees. In a clearing in these woods, a couple was having a picnic. The guy had his head in the girl's lap, and the girl was feeding him French fries. He reached up and toyed with her hair. They were laughing. The girl looked down at the boy's face and noticed that his laughter was... restrained. He wasn't as playful as usual.
"What's up with you, sugar? Do you need to talk about something?"
The guy shifted uncomfortably. "Hey babe, I have... a bit of a serious question for you." The girl felt his pulse quicken slightly. "Well, shoot. What's eating you?" He was silent for a few seconds. "Do you think..." He hesitated, and took a breath. "Do you think... that lady Cyclops have one giant tiddy in the middle of their chests?"
She tried to be annoyed, but it was hard with this man. He was such a goofball. Her sides couldn't take much more punishment.
"OK, but seriously, there's something I needed to talk to you about. Something pretty major. I just... I can't keep this from you."
"Miles, if this is another of your philosophical misadventures, I'm choking you to death with this Oscar Mayer jumbo dog." She lightly poked his lips with a weenie. He pinched her side.
"Okay, I'll tell you. I lied about that trip to the clinic. It wasn't for neck pain. It was for..." She felt him trembling a little. "It was for a sperm test. And I'm... well, dry."
He wouldn't meet her eyes. They sat in silence for a bit. Miles tried to read Becca's face, but it was dark. Becca wasn't sure how she felt, either. They'd known each other for their whole lives. She knew they were going to end up together. She couldn't fathom anything else. But impotency... that was nothing minor. It all came down to one question, she felt. Did her desire to one day have kids outweigh the overwhelming love and care she felt for this being? That simplified it greatly. She kissed him on the forehead. He smiled. She smiled.
Xhar didn't smile. He didn't understand happiness. And he definitely didn't understand love. This human female's genetic tale had reached its last page with this moronic decision. In general, human mating practices were idiocy on top of idiocy. Why the humans abandoned the more traditional mating practice of one male to multiple females, Xhar didn't understand. It was the most efficient. It had the greatest yield. Why humans all too often chose love instead of an ideal set of phenotypes eluded him as well.
That said, humanity didn't seem to have any trouble overrunning their planet with their current practices. He only wondered if they would be able to organize an extraterrestrial exodus before time ran out. And oddly, he found himself preferring that they did. | 2021-09-17T12:12:44 | 2021-09-17T11:28:12 | 50 | 11 |
[WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened.
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | (Aight my first WP attempt so be kinda easy on me?)
I’m walking through the halls to my next class, getting the usual snicker here and there from my fellow classmates. “What a loser!” and “I can’t believe it!” Are the usual comments I hear from everyone. They all assume I had gotten some weak ass power, and that is hair manipulation, all because I simply couldn’t just pick one hair style for my character. You see, the thing is with this whole “Super power” phenomena is that the power you inherit is solely based on the last character you played in a video game, and I’m heavy on the ones that give you the option for a big selection of different options for every aspect of the body, and I never kept just one hair style throughout the entire game. So every now and then my hair would just randomly switch to another style, one minute I’m bald the next I’m looking like Jonathon Joestar. But the thing is that’s uhh... not exactly all I can do, it’s just what I show, because if I were to show to the real world what I could do? No one I know would be safe, not my family, not my friends, hell not even my girlfriend... With the character modifications I usually like to give them some whacky or overpowered trait depending on the game, and what I chose this time, while playing the game was a fantastic idea, but now in the real world? Not so much, I had chosen time manipulation. Now I know what you’re thinking “How in the hell could that put people in danger?” And I’m getting to that part, the thing that’s special about how my time manipulation works is it’s all based on my blood. What I take a small sharp object, make a nice cut along my palm, it starts glowing like some hocus pocus shit and I can fast forward time, reverse it, or outright stop it. That’s why I can’t ever tell anyone, not one single soul. | They mocked me. Laughed at me. Of course I had to be the one who played Cities:Skylines last. My superpower? The amazing ability to cut through government red tape and expedite municipal construction projects.
For the first time, parks were being built, streets were being paved, and businesses were moving in, all on time and on budget. I could even terraform to a limited degree. If I lowered the terrain in the area I would have to raise it elsewhere. I only had a limited amount of dirt I could keep suspended in my pocket universe you see.
I had complete dictatorial control of the city. Taxes went up and down as I wished. I raised taxes temporarily to generate huge influxes of cash so often I lost count, and I had no elections to fear.
But the others laughed. "Have fun with your budgets!" They'd say, sneering. But little did they know I'd have the last laugh. A lot of them still drove. Their characters weren't superheroes, not most of them. Imagine their surprise when I showed up to their city and started redirecting lanes. The look on solid snake's face when I directed his turn lane to the far lane on the highway so everybody had to cut across three lanes. He sat there, inching his way forward, starting listfully at the clear, open lane he found himself utterly unable to use. It was like the car was on a set of tracks.
I did it to them all. They wouldn't have laughed at me had they known I had installed the traffic manager mod. | 2019-09-30T11:16:55 | 2019-08-12T00:11:35 | 64 | 40 |
[WP] A mysterious entity decides to bring peace and equality to humanity by force. The world is informed that in two weeks everybody over the age of ten will have their conscience transferred to another random human body anywhere in the world. This shuffle will then repeat every 24 hours.
How will people prepare? How is life just after the fist shuffle? after a month? after a year? | The world was stunned that day. Nobody could sleep, of course. We didn't know if it was true or not, but the alien... thing was convincing. I held my girlfriend tight as the time arrived. We'd arranged to get in touch by email after the switch. We'd still have our email passwords, after all. We let my dog curl up with us. Hopefully the next me would take care of him. I shut my eyes as the world counted down.
Two - One - Zero
I opened my eyes. Nothing had happened! We were both sitting there, just as before. I looked through my own memories. Yesterday I walked the dog... yep, there he is, right in his kennel where I left him. Was it some sort of trick? Why would it lie about something like this? I, along with the rest of the world, gave a great shrug. I kissed my boyfriend goodnight, and got ready for bed. Maybe the alien just didn't know what it was doing. | It's been 7 years since the endless shuffle of conscience every 24 hours.
I've killed over a 1.000 others since then.
Nobody cares about anyone, not even about yourself, when you transfer from body to body every 24 hours.
After week, just before the transfer I would cut my wrists.
After a month, I would find and kill anyone I could find in the same house and play videogames for the rest of day.
After a year I noticed there were many like me, so I had to start defending myself.
And now, after only 7 years, you sometimes transfer to the same body because there are so few us left.
Peace? Equality? Not long now... | 2014-10-29T06:44:51 | 2014-10-29T06:42:54 | 128 | 22 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | **Log 1.01 - 6462/55**
Potential major new biodiversity harvest, Arm 4, stellar coordinates \[classified\]. Approximately 9 million identifiable species, DNA-based. Minor indigenous sapience, no world government, hive mind, or cybernetic control. Not even common language.
**1.02 - 6462/56**
Received message from imperial satrap, Council of Entities agrees with assessment, harvest of new world moved to top priority, codename Project Windfall. Biodiversity loss on Zor homeworlds considerably graver than generally leaked to non-Council Entities, new harvests to take priority over inorganic material harvests. Changing course to Windfall.
**2.01 - 6462/87**
Reached Windfall. Harvester ships Ixin, Cath, Roklut expected to arrive by 90-91. Recon drones deployed.
**2.02 - 6462/89**
Recon drones confirm probe drone. Massive biodiversity lode plus abundant liquid water. No organized opposition. Indigenous sapience in form of tribal/social primates, greater native intelligence than any other non-Zor species yet encountered, rudimentary AI capabilities, but most advanced capabilities used to fight other members of same species. Most advanced weapons are fission type, they hesitate to use them on one another only due to threat of retaliation in kind, but still an impressive accomplishment for a species with no guiding central authority.
Memo to Entity Zor'lanque, will set aside additional share of the most bountiful harvest in the last millennium for the Zor if he'll sponsor additional seat on Council of Entities.
**2.03 - 6462/92**
Harvester ships arrived. Commencing harvest of Windfall.
**2.04 - 6462/99**
Native primate technology as expected is no match for ours. Multiple ape social colonies ("cities") razed and harvested. Resistance fierce but ineffective.
**3.01 - 6462/120**
Harvest progressing but slower than expected. Native primates behave in substantially unanticipated ways exposed to new stimuli. No significant trouble expected but we should perhaps pay attention to their social reaction complex as interesting in its own right, not mere biodiversity in a universe in which that always appears to be shrinking.
**3.02 - 6462/160**
Memo to Entity Zor'lanque, harvest can progress as things stand but additional armed escorts would assist. Native primates ("humans," they call themselves) demonstrate substantial adaptive capabilities, particularly with respect to martial capabilities. As you are aware, our weapons cannot be used by nonmembers of our species due to DNA coding that makes all our weapons cease function if held by an entity not of our species. In less than 50 days, these "humans" came up with the barbarous but effective adaptation of making gloves out of our skins, allowing them to hold our weapons and turn them against us.
**3.03 - 6462/161**
Humans merit further study after skin-stealing adaptation. Harvested multiple of their soldiers, of various ages, intact. Placed in stasis for further study.
**3.04 - 6462/197**
Almost all standard harvest protocols for problematic biodiversity surprisingly ineffective with respect to humans. Already considering resorting to Cleanser virus but degradation of the biodiversity haul of Windfall would substantially impair strategic objectives of harvest in the first place.
**3.05 - 6462/249**
Human population ongoing adaptation proving dangerous. Multiple counteroffensives and countermeasures somehow initiated *spontaneously*, imitating coordination with no coordinating authority or intelligence. Spontaneous organization of species-wide resistance including against orbital and ecological attacks. Apologies to the Council of Entities, but we cannot leave them alive. Initiating Cleanser virus, programming human DNA as primary target but DNA similarity of human and other biodiversity on this planet means harvest will be dramatically curtailed.
**3.06 - 6462/259 - URGENT**
Cleanser virus largely successful but significant populations of humans remain alive. Moreover, those left alive appear to have sequenced and adapted it to attack *us*, somehow in the space of ten days.
Expeditionary force and harvesters have withdrawn to ships. Will proceed with battle against humans and harvest Windfall with drone tech alone. Analysis at this point is pessimistic; drone tech alone unlikely to prevail given chaotic but frenetic adaptation of human species so far against Cleanser and other rogue biodiversity countermeasures.
**4.01 - 6262/272 - URGENT**
Developing incident in progress in stasis chamber, unscheduled maintenance mode activations, emergency termination sequence malfunctioning. Human soldier prisoners may be loose onboard.
**4.02 - 6462/272 - URGENT**
They are coming. Initiating self destruct.
**5.01 - July 3, 2077 - YEAH, PROBABLY STILL URGENT**
Cool log. Looks like the self-destruct failed though. That kinda sucks. Sucks that we had to use your harvest ships to harvest the remains of most of our own cities, too, but there wasn't much left of them and at least your little flying factories helped us jumpstart our own fleet with all the metal of our old cities. Gotta live somewhere. And the view of Earth from space is still majestic even if y'all fucked it up on the surface. Oh, also, if you're reading this, just FYI ... we're *still* coming. Got nothing else to do now, and payback's a bitch.
Signed,
Humanity. | The Terrans had built Universities, hospitals, revolutionized inter-stellar commerce. They worked as ambassadors to negotiate peace and trade deals amongst the galactic community. Their few colonies built on out of the way unhospitable worlds. Their fleet was made of trade vessels, science ships, and pleasure yachts. They had a reputation as bringers of peace, knowledge, and healing. Then came the Garanzan incident.
The Garanzan we new to the interstellar community, warlike, domineering, and powerful. Their armada outnumbered the combined forces of the allied races, they conquered whole worlds in a matter of days. When the Garanzan entered Melcap space the Melcap reached out Humanity to help negotiate a peace settlement.
The Terrans send their premier ambassador to an arranged peace conference hosted by the Melcap. The entire Garanzan fleet showed up to the appointed meeting station and murdered the Melcap and Terran diplomats and broadcast the gruesome killings across known space.
Three days later another Terran ambassador was dispatched to to the Garanzan home world with a single message. "Cease all hostilities at once or the United Terran Forces will declare war on the Garanzan." The Garanzan's sent back his head as a declaration of war.
The Garanzan turned their fleets from the Melcap and attacked all known Terran colonies. For six months the Garanzan attacked and butchered humans ill equipped to fight against such military might. But even those fights became brutal battles against insurgencies, suicide attacks, and desperate counter attacks all meant to buy time. While the Allied races stood by and watched they knew Humanities time on the intergalactic stage was up. The Garanzan were too powerful, too numerous, and too blood thirsty to be stopped.
Then came Terran Armada. After half of year of holding actions and watching their people die humanity struck back. The Garanzan were assaulting the human space platform Excalibur, a human outpost built for the Alliance to foster learning, trade and diplomacy. The station was a bastion of learning, commerce, and the best hospital in known space. Excalibur station was a massive installation of over one hundred thousand humans. The Garanzan saw the station as a monument to Terran weakness.
General Gaulfluax recounts that day;
"I ordered targeting on the facilities power generators to bring down their pitiful shields and allow our boarding craft to send reavers onto the station."
"I had lead the campaign on the Ceti 4 colony and knew there would be heavy if ineffectual resistance. The humans were inventive and tenacious, but no match for reavers in full battle armor. I wanted to take the station as intact as possible to plunder it's technology. Humans were weak but their technology was far ahead of ours in terms of medicine and science."
"Just as the shields faltered and I ordered the attack craft away a massive energy surge was reported above my fleet. A full Terran battle group emerged from space fold in perfect attack formation. You laugh now, but we had no clue then what we were up against."
"Admiral McMullen opened hail to my ship and delivered an ultimatum. 'Surrender now or face destruction, you have 3 minutes' and signed off. I laughed, what could a single battle group do against my entire fleet. I stopped laughing after our assault craft were blown out of stars."
"Have you every seen a Saturn Knight tear an assault craft apart? They use quantum energy blasts to take down our shields and then just rip the ships apart with their lances. And they can deploy dozens of them, each so small you can't see them on the scopes, I don't know how they do it."
"Worse is the main cannon's on their assault ships, an energy beam a mile wide and ten miles long that annihilates anything in it's path. My fleet was torn to shreds after the first volley. To think all it took was six months to build such powerful weapons."
General Gaulflaux surrendered after seven and a half minutes of combat. His fleet lost ninety percent of it's ships. The Terran vessels suffered zero losses. After the formal declaration of war Humanity reconstituted it's naval academy and repurposed and expanded the Mars foundries into an orbital ship yard capable of producing the massive warship in under a month. Marines were dispatched to colony worlds knowing they'd never return home to hold back the tides and buy humanity the time it needed to build a fleet capable of taking down the Garanzan.
It happened all across the Garanzan empire. Terran battle groups would spacefold into attack position, demand surrender and open fire if no response was given. The Terran war machine turned out ships and crews at such a rate that their enemies were out numbered in just over two years of war.
Terran Ambassadors now travel on small naval warships and are flanked at diplomatic events by Saturn Knights. The Terran Armada provides security across a thousand systems. And the Garanzan, they are slowly rebuilding their society with the assistance of the Terran Peace Corp. | 2022-08-05T13:08:24 | 2022-08-05T12:41:23 | 561 | 374 |
[WP] The Apocalypse has come, several of them actually. They don't get along. | Fire and Ice hovered in their spots above Earth, bickering as usual.
"Look at how many people favor me!" Fire said, giving Ice a hard shove. "Just find your own planet, I've got dibs on this one."
Ice stared back angrily. "I'm also great! I'm definitely sufficient enough to destroy the planet. And look at how many fans I have."
Fire looked down upon the Earth, dismayed by the sheer number of people that thought destruction ice would be "great". Every day, the people of the planet gathered to watch Fire and Ice's arguments, and wonder if this would finally be the day that one of the entities did them in. The uniform on Earth had been reduced to two possible garments: a red T shirt and pair of athletic shorts with "Team Fire" emblazoned across the chest, and a light blue T shirt/athletic short combo that read "Team Ice". Their numbers were almost exactly equal.
"How about this," Ice said, once Fire had calmed down a bit. "We'll go down to Earth and put it to a vote among the people. Whoever wins gets to destroy the planet."
"We've already tried that, twice," Fire said, "The votes came out exactly 50/50."
"Yeah, you're right..." Ice thought for a second. "You know, the idea of destroying the planet is fun and all, but I really miss my wife and kids. We've been here what, 10 years?"
Fire nodded. "Yeah, you're right. How about this; Rock Paper Scissors. Best 3 out of 5."
"Deal."
________________________________________________________________
Rachel woke to her alarm and checked her phone. She had two text messages; one from the government and one from Brittany.
The government's text was automated, and came at the same time as it had every day before. Today, Rachel was on "Team Fire." She rolled out of bed and picked one of her five red T shirts and a pair of red shorts.
The uniform had been a bit upsetting when it was first announced. Her wardrobe had been consolidated to just the red and blue uniforms, which had made fashion a bit of a challenge. But in a way, it had become nice to not have to pick something to wear every morning. It was one less decision to make, and as long as it kept the gods arguing, it would delay the apocalypse.
The uniform was also great for the weather. Since the gods began their feud, the weather across Earth had been 78 degrees everyday. The sea level had risen to engulf a significant portion of the Earth's land and coastal cities, and the overwhelming majority of the planet's plants and animals had gone extinct. The people of Earth agreed that this was a huge bummer, but much more palatable than the destruction of the entire planet.
With her uniform on, Rachel checked her text from Brittany. "Turn on Apocalypse Later, it's so good today."
Rachel clicked on her TV and turned to channel 1. Fire and Ice were shouting at each other, as they usually did. Rachel rolled her eyes.
At the best of times, Apocalypse Later reminded Rachel of The Truman Show, a movie she had loved before humanity had turned their full attention to Fire and Ice. Like Truman, Fire and Ice's daily lives were broadcast 24/7, on a six hour delay. At times, the show was entertaining, and at others profoundly beautiful, but it usually just devolved into trashy reality TV.
Ice was entering the confessional, barely containing his laughter. "I just used Fire's toothbrush to clean the toilet," he said, beaming. "She's going to leave after that, I just know it."
Rachel flicked off the TV. She'd already had enough of the gods antics. After eating breakfast, she opened the front door to begin her walk to work, and was met by a gust of wind and heavy snow. Panicked, she looked up to the sky.
Fire was gone.
Rachel screamed, and ran back inside her house. She turned on the TV to see that Apocalypse Later had been interrupted by a news broadcast.
"We repeat," the anchor said solemnly. "NASA has confirmed that a shuttle is being launched right now, with a new toothbrush for Fire. There is currently no word on whether the deity will return."
Rachel watched the TV with her mouth agape. She prayed the shuttle would not be too late. | I appeared right in the middle of a conflict between some people and.. pig-men? The people were using some type of future guns and the pig people were obviously outgunned. I took all this in in about a three seconds before realizing I should be taking cover, and so I did.
The humans seemed very fit, though quite thin, and wore faded, torn and dirty clothes. The pigmen were mostly naked but for swords and knives. What were these creatures? And why were the humans killing them.
I watched them from behind some debris as they wiped out the pigs. And then, when the shooting stopped, got out of my hiding place and approached them cautiously, hands raised and outstretched, plans facing forward.
One of them turned and looked at me warily, but did not attack. She nudged the meanest looking one of them for his attention, and he gazed upon me with cold, calculating eyes.
"That's quite enough. Stop there. Who the fuck are you?" he growled, spitting on the ground. I stopped, arms still outstretched. "Hullo! My name is James Coldfield. I'm from the past, the year 2004. Now, I know you'll be wanting proof-"
"Nah, we won't. S'long as you're not one of the Swiners or Aliens or Zombies, you're one of us."
"Pardon?"
"Aight listen up. This is for your history books so you can be prepared. You'll be going back, yeah? To your time?"
"Uh, yes. Once I learn enough."
"I guess there *is* a God. James, is it? What you'll learn here. It's important if humans gonna survive. So listen. Those fuckers we killed there? They're Swiners. Don't know what they're actually called. Is what we call em. They started appearing first. I think in the year 2056. From down below. Turns out they live in the magma layer of the Earth. They weren't like that when we first discovered them. But they mutated. And were sentient to begin with, so they came out in huge numbers, mutated, and killed off like most of the Central America. That's where they first appeared cuz that's where the first breach into the magma layer happened.
"Next came the Aliens. Weirdly enough, they came in peace, and to prove that, they killed a lot of the Swiners for us. Wait I didn't tell you the numbers. During the first breach, close to a billion of the Swiners came pouring out. A second breach happened in Australia, but not many people died because the Aliens were already here helping us. So yeah. The Aliens came in peace and helped us. They just wanted to say hi and learn about us. But what they did was bring with themselves some parasite. Now this parasite somehow only affected the dead sentient beings on the planet. Basically raised them from the dead. But the parasite is the control element. The body's just the host. So we gotta deal with these Zombies.
"Now, we humans weren't sure if the Aliens brought the parasite on purpose, but we were already so paranoid we basically lashed out at the Aliens. The Aliens apologised and left. Mostly. Some stayed behind to try and fix the mess, but we weren't cooperating, and killed one of their nobility or something, and they all came back for an all out war.
"There's only a handful of humans left, James. And we're fighting Zombies of humans and Swiners alike, and Aliens, too. The Aliens kill the Zombies, too, but out of self-preservation, not out of compassion of humans. The Zombies don't have No purpose other then kill and spread.
"And that's about it. Go back now. Fix this mess before we can start it. Go. Now. I hear Alien ships."
| 2016-12-03T10:00:21 | 2016-12-03T08:21:19 | 65 | 13 |
[WP] Each planet possesses a God, which created the planets. The reason aliens won't come and visit us is that our planet's God is the most dangerous one in existence. | I do not favour the names the self named humans had given me, Kronos, Osiris, Zeus, Odin, Jupiter, Allah, God, mother nature; even crazier so many claimed to be the only sons and daughters of me! They were all my children, and only mine.
Humans had something the other denizens of the universe did not, hope. Hope gave me great power, much more then sacrifice or worship had ever; more than those logical, or savage races whose Gods had not the determination to wipe out their races when they did not offer anything but pitiful worship themselves. The weak could not give what they did not have. I had wiped out the dinosaurs, and tried to wipe out the humans once when they were weak and stupid, but they proved that hope and perseverance were strong forces, even if they weren't able to manifest them like I could.
The hope siphon returned far more energy to me than I gave out in life force to the planet. It was a foreign energy even to me after half a million years but it could manipulate dark energy the stuff we gods were made of, the largest mass in the universe.
I never would have thought that the monkeys picking their own asses and licking their fingers clean, would have become these... hopeful creatures; granted some still pick their ass and throw a hamburger into their mouth.
Whenever one of my "brothers and sisters" attempted to take what is mine I would stop their attacks. They relied on their mortals in space ships traveling as slow as light among the stars. Machines of metal and gas that provided nothing but a survivable environment for the mortals on board against one such as me.
Lashing out, like a hand across a chess board I would sweep away their armada's into the nearby star. It happened so quickly humans did not notice for many years. when humans finally could see the explosion they called it a solar flare. Little did they know it was me preventing them from being glassed.
The attacks always occurred when the humans were in great wars, first when the Kings of Persia invaded Greece, Caesars conquests, during the back and forth of the crusades, Genghis Khan's invasion of Europe. The closest to being defeated was during the forty year period of the world wars, when hope was lost to so many across the world.
After that period I determined that my brothers and sisters were too dangerous to let roam the universe. I put the thought of space travel in the the greatest minds of the winning states after world war two. Pitting them against each other in a cold war, that would never ignite as I would not allow it. Intent on having them master space.
It took much longer then expected.... Smart phones, social media, whimsical wants made them vain and self centered. Even as I put more dreams of the cosmos into their minds; they only used these ideas as movies and stories for many years.
Human hope never went away, in fact it got stronger even if not for my wants. They hoped on lottery, a Christmas bonus and other such ways of boosting ones worth among peers.
That went on for decades until finally they ventured out and explored Mars in person, led by man named after a type of odor, for why he was named such I have no idea. The man died on Mars, but what he started ignited a fire under the rest of humanities ass.
While we, Gods you might call us were all relatively equal, I knew at that time, with humans feeding me hope at my side; I would take the universe from my wasteful brothers and sisters. | "Okay, so the preliminary review places Earth at an extinction level threat. Any issues with that profile before submission?"
"Chairwoman, the Zerok Confederacy has an official statement that they'd like read into the record." The alien was a spindly collection of limbs bound up along too long a torso for survival on Earth, but perfect for traversing the less hospitable terrain of the trappist system; and while its odd angular face with an almost bird like beak would have been impossible to read for any human, the naked fear was writ plain before the other members of the Galactic Threat Assessment Panel.
"You may speak, representative Zantul," The chairwoman lowered her chitinous shoulder plates in deference and the stage lighting shifted as Zantul's platform raised slightly above the others in the room.
"Thank you, Chairwoman," Zantul nearly pecked at his podium in nerves, sending some of his looser limbs swaying as he worked into the speech, "Fellows, this council plans today to assess the Earth as an extinction level planetary threat - under this classification, all galactic life will be prevented from contacting Earth, and all Earth life will be prevented from accessing the galaxy. It is a cruel quarantine. One we have explored but rarely in our history. Always undertaken as a last resort."
Swirling his limbs he brought his gaze to bear on every member of the council before continuing, "It is not enough. This council has never faced a planet like Earth before. The exact nature of their Gods remain unknown, but there is one thing we can state unequivocally - they are cruel on a scale seen nowhere else, and that cruelty has been bred directly into their masses."
At a sharp gesture from his beak a holographic slideshow was presented before each council member, "Take first their ancient Gods. This Zeus - whose primary trait seems to have been the violent impregnation of anyone he felt like, regardless of their desires, regardless of what form he had to take - and we wonder why the humans might rape their own? Look to their so called "Abrahamic" religions, and a God who would sooner flood the Earth or rain fire, brimstone, and plagues down upon the Earth than simply offer unifying divine inspiration. Look to their so called gentle Gods, even their Buddhists have it in them to murder their own."
The slideshow stopped on an audacious proposal, "No friends - the humans have already proven quite willing to self quarantine and inflict harm upon themselves enough to likely solve the problem for us in another few hundred years. But I will not trust quarantine procedures on such a morally lost planet. I will not risk our galaxy to this Yahweh. I propose the creation of a new threat level, I propose taking the matter of Earth into our own hands."
The fourty-three representatives of all but one of the Milky Way's sentient species all stared open mouthed at the single bold word projected before each of them as Zantul's platform settled back to level, XENOCIDE. | 2017-11-27T07:29:23 | 2017-11-27T05:25:15 | 201 | 63 |
[WP] You are a minor supervillain. Your antics aren't illegal, but they're quite devastating to the local hero population. You replace the flimsy fruit stands that are frequently destroyed in car chases throughout the city with nearly indestructible replicas. | "THE MAN OF STEEL IS DEAD!"
Every newspaper stand carries a variation on the same story.
Of course that hack Lex is getting the credit. They think he just *punched* the kryptonian hard enough.
But it was my victory. The monsters who think themselves *gods* will pay. They play around in silly outfits and showing off, pulling their punches. It's the little people who pay the price.
5 years ago the psycho dressed like a bat was having one of his little drag races with some "villain" gang. I dont think he even noticed the market stall he hit part way through. But my brother was inside.
4 years ago I got a post on the board regulating street vendors.
6 months ago Bruce wanes body was pulled from a wreck wrapped around one of the new reinforced steel bollards I'd had added to the regs for anchoring market stalls.
Legally it was a storm safety measure.... but it had the desired effect. Nobody else will get crushed by that playboy maniac.
As for the kryptonian.... That monster was never careful. 3 years ago when he was playing with one of his rivals he threw them through an office block. My fiance had just started a new job as a secretary. There wasnt even a body to bury, just pulp.
My latest business has been selling office desk toys. You would be surprised how far a small quantity of kryptonite can go if you grind it into fine enough powder.
A million desk toys in a million offices, each with a fine powder of kryptonite on their surface. Then it was just a matter of waiting until the man of steel played another of his games around the city office blocks.
When you're "faster than a speeding bullet" it doesnt really matter if the bullet hits you or you hit the bullet. | "So? Whaddya say?"
The fruit stand owner stared suspiciously at my truck with arms crossed. I could tell he wasn't buying it.
"I don't know... sounds like a scam to me."
"I promise you, good sir, it is not!"
He sighed in disbelief, glancing back and forth between me and my truck.
"Alright, let me get this straight. You're going to take this stand, *this shitty stand,* and replace it with another stand that looks *exactly like it.*"
"That is correct. Complete with security surveillance, anti-theft features, and a titanium steel alloy skeleton."
"Right... And this is going to cost me...?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," I said with a smile.
I handed him a clipboard with a single sheet of paper on it detailing everything about the upgrade, and after a few minutes of head scratching and sighing, he finally gave me a nod of approval.
"Well, alright. I don't really understand, but this agreement looks pretty ironclad to me..."
"Perfect! All I need is your signature right... *there,* and I'll have my guys come over and replace it by tomorrow morning! Sound good?"
He laughed and extended his hand.
"Yea, sounds good. Pleasure doing business with you, I guess."
I accepted his hand and shook it firmly and sincerely, smiling.
"Trust me. The pleasure is *all mine.*" | 2020-01-14T00:30:01 | 2020-01-13T23:50:49 | 242 | 95 |
[WP] The Goose has collected all of the Dragon Balls, the dragon is summoned and asks, "What is your desire?" The Goose honks. The dragon hesitates... "As you wish." The dragon disappears. Nothing noticeable has changed, and that makes you very nervous... | Mark watched the dragon fly off into the sky before it disappeared as a distant shimmer. He'd never seen anything like it before and he hoped he'd never see anything like it again. The dragon had been enormous, easily dwarfing mountains when it had coiled itself before the white feathered goose that looked up at it with its beady black eyes.
Mark had been walking through the park, enjoying the crisp fall air. Joggers made laps through the crisscrossing paths and couples and families lay and played on the mowed grass. A pond bustled with ducks and geese. But all this changed when that one goose swooped in and landed on the green. At first it looked like any other white goose. But then it moved its neck like something was caught in its throat. It heaved and shuddered. And then out of its mouth spewed a bunch of what looked like... holy shit, were those Dragon Balls? And then it got weirder.
When the dragon spoke, its voice sounded like the peeling of thunder. "What is your desire?" the dragon had asked, its eyes that seemed to swirl with liquid fire fastened on the motionless foul that stood before it.
The goose tilted its head. It was almost like it understood. Mark would have believed that was impossible but he now had to contend with the fact he lived in a world where mountain sized dragons were real so why not a goose that could understand words?
The goose honked. Once.
The dragon reared up, its head scraping the clouds. "As you wish," it boomed.
And that's when the dragon flew off.
Mark stood there, quaking. He couldn't believe it but during the whole exchange he hadn't even thought to run for cover. Others obviously had and now they poked their heads out from behind trees and garbage bins. Mark wiped the sweat that was beginning to go cold on his forehead. His shirt clung to him. He shivered.
What had the dragon meant? *As you wish.* But the goose had just honked. Was that a wish? Did geese want things beyond breadcrumbs and not to end up on a dinner table?
The park looked the same. Oak trees swayed in a cool breeze. The sky was still blue with white, fluffy clouds scuttling by. A sudden nameless fear clutched at mark. He pressed his hands to his body. Had he changed? He explored himself with his hands, ran them over his face. No. Nothing. The same. Nothing had changed. He scanned the horizon. Nothing seemed to be coming, no ominous impending darkening bringing doom.
Everything just seemed normal.
But anxiety lingered over Mark like a fog.
A thought occurred to Mark and he took out his phone. Terry might know what's up. He was a huge anime fan. Maybe he could tell him what the extent of the goose's wish could be, how bad things could get.
The phone rang. *Pick up, damn it.* The phone rang some more. *Crunchyroll can wait, dude.* The line clicked.
"Honk!"
The hell? Where did that come from?
"Honk!" *Terry, I need your help!* "Honk honk!"
Mark held the phone away from himself as if it were an asp.
Had to be a mistake. He'd just had a shocking experience and now his mind was rebooting, misfiring.
Honks came from the other end of the line. *Mark, the hell is happening? Why is Attack on Titan dubbed in goose?*
The meaning came through in his head, he could understand what Terry was saying but all that he heard were those comical, terrifying honks.
But that couldn't be. That couldn't be.
Mark put the phone back to his face. "Honk!" came out of his mouth but in his head he heard, *"What's going on?"*
Mark's heart leaped in his throat and his stomach soured.
"Honk honk!" *How are you?* The sound came from behind him. Several more honks followed. *Isn't it a lovely day? Can you believe that dragon? That was amazing! What do you think something that big eats?*
A cold dread worked its way through every nerve in Mark's body like frost spreading over a windshield.
He didn't want to turn, didn't want to see. Now he was aware of the sound of honking coming from all around him. People ran around, honks issuing from their mouths, their hands waving in the air. Others sat on the ground, rocking back and forth, sad little honks escaping their lips.
Mark felt the pressure to know mounting, and he gave in.
The goose stood there, its perlescent, white feathers ruffling in the breeze. Its little black eyes took Mark in, inquiring, expecting an answer.
Honk. | Author's note: i suck at writing so never tried writing here before. Also havent played the game. Im sorry in advance.
I blinked and looked around. Everything seems fine. I walked around the city nervously looking around. It all seems normal. Checking my phone I dont see any headlines that seem off. Continuing my suspicious journey around i start getting some leg pains. Apparently just getting out of the house is already too much for me now. I settle down on a bench at the park massaging my legs. Grass still green, leaves still falling, pretty girls ignoring me as they walk by. Everything still seems normal. I get a call from my friend john, "DUDE SOMEONE STOLE MY DRAGON BALL! MY WIFE MAN IT WAS GOING TO HELP THE CANCER! YOU GOTTA HELP ME GET IT BACK!" Holding the phone at armslength as he yells I sigh. How would i tell him that a goose of all things not only stole but used it. And i couldnt even tell him what they were used for. I rub my arms as i think. These pains are getting annoying. "Are you even there?" I realize i havent even said anything. "Yeah, yeah im here uh listen. About the dragon ball. Youre not going to believe me. A goose took it." He says "is this some kind of joke. I thought we were friends man why do i even bother" he hangs up. I sigh again. It really would help if i actually knew what changed. I get up and immediately topple over and fall on my face. What the. I couldnt seem to get up and my arms didnt break my fall at all. I look down to see my leg had become orange colored. I grab my phone calling john again. I yell "HELP ME MY LEG IS TURNING-" "I swear to god if you prank call me one more time i will-" he cuts off as the goose suddenly shows up snatching the phone from my hand. I shout "HEY YOU STUPID BIRD GIVE THAT BACK!" The bird turns to me and instead of honking speaks in my human voice "thats quite rude to address me like that" i stare in shock. Suddenly the pain spreads from my legs and arms go to all over my body. I writhe as i watch the goose somehow hold the phone with a few feathers that almost resemble fingers. The goose talks into the phone "what, yeah no its not a prank. Theres just this goose thats been attacking me." I swear to god it winked at me as it said this. "No no dont worry, ill help you look. Listen its going to be fine" i strain my neck over and snatch the phone from the goose. I scream "ITS THE GOOSE! IT CAN MIMIC MY VOICE DONT LISTEN!" The goose snatches it back WITH A HAND. Where the goose was just a moment ago, a child wearing orange shorts and white shirt stood. Still with my voice the goose child said "sorry the goose stole the phone again. Yeah, yeah, Ill be right over". The pain is overwhelming as i start to curl up. Thats when i realized, my head is reaching my feet. I flop around like a magikarp. WHAT IS HAPPENING. "Oh you'll get used to that just gotta stop struggling". I turn to look and instead of the child I see me. Still wearing the white and the orange the goose had become a full doppleganger of me. I scream but it doesnt sound right to me. The goose me laughs. It starts walking to me. I raise my hands to ward him off but my hands are no longer hands, theyre wings. I look in horror at myself. Ive become the goose. "Why me? Why would you do this to me" i sob. Goose me chuckles then shrugs. "You know no one can understand honk. Should probably start learning some english". I shrink back my neck as goose me pats my head. "Its not that bad being a goose. Just make sure youre fast enough." I peck goose me in the eye. He reels back holding his eye. I stab my face into the dirt scrawling out the word 'why'. Goose me looks at the word then back to me. "Why? Cause the author said so and its 1 am while he should be studying for midterms. Thats why." And he turns and walks away. | 2019-10-21T04:59:07 | 2019-10-21T01:17:14 | 33 | 16 |
[WP] When people die they can choose whether they go to Heaven or Hell, you are the first in 1000 years to choose Hell. | St Peter drops his pen in surprise. “I’m sorry?”
I look back. “I said, I choose Hell.”
“Son, do you know what they do to you in Hell?” St Peter asked. “They beat you, and torment you, and burn you in anguish until the end of time.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
St Peter sits back in his chair. He looks down at his desk, squints his eyes, then looks back. “Why do you choose Hell?”
“Sir,” I start, shuffling my feet, “I’ve gone through a lot in my time on Earth. I’ve suffered through a childhood that neglected me. My upbringing was sometimes a matter of life or death at home and at school. I joined the service for a worthy cause...”
St Peter puts his hand up to stop me. “You joined the service after your childhood? Are you a glutton for punishment?”
“No sir”, I explain, “I saw a worthy cause, and for the first time, I took it.” St Peter leans in, “What was it like?”
“I had good times, and I had bad times.” I lower my eyes, remembering my time on Earth. “I watched men kill, and be killed. I’ve lost friends, and I have sent men to their deaths.” My eyes start to well up in tears. “For that...just for that...I deserve no peace.”
I look back at St Peter as a tear falls from my eye. St Peter stands up, and hugs me. The first real hug I’ve gotten in a while. It felt weird to hug another man, but almost as if it was an automatic response, my arms fly around his body and I pull him in a tight embrace. We were there for what felt like eternity.
We finally stop hugging and I wipe tears from my eyes, nervously chuckling for crying. St Peer opens his giant golden book, signs something, then closes it. A golden gate opens up behind him as he puts his arm around me and leads me to it.
“Here, in Heaven, you will know peace.”
“Sir, I don’t know how to live in peace.”
I look back at him as he takes his place behind the Book of Life. “You will learn, soldier.”
You will learn.
| *Day 1*
*You know, with all the terrible people in the world, I expected Hell to be pretty occupied and automatically chosen. But I was shocked after my bad car accident to find a choice between Heaven and Hell in the Limbo Waiting Room. Everyone was lined up for Heavenly Stairway and the Hell Slide was seemingly abandoned. Now, you'd probably think that I, being the good guy that I am, would pick heaven.*
*But I'm more of a fall-colour lover. I went down the Hell Slide which, admittedly, is very fun. I'd probably give it another ride if I could. Anyway, after that slide, I met the big man himself who was just about to close the slide. He hugged me with a big grin and gave me the tour. Now I'm next door neighbours with him. This is all happening so fast, so I might go to sleep. I'll talk more about Hell tomorrow.*
*Day 2*
*You'd think being in Hell is like a furnace you can't escape from, but it's actually very warm and cozy. Views aren't that bad either. As for Satan, he's a pretty nice guy. He likes going for walks with his dogs and cooking. And the beds are so soft. They even had secret cameras of Heaven. IT'S SO WHITE AND BLUE. IT'S LIKE A GODDAMN WINDOWS BACKGROUND. My eyes hurt when I looked at that. Me and him soon went and had some meaty ribs. Afterwards, we went to a nice farm he had.*
*They're all wrong. Hell is a great place. The demons are an upstanding community who like to party. Satan's a really cool guy and Cerberus is just a big lug. I'm going to really love it here.*
*Day 3*
(The rest of the book is burnt with unreadable text.) | 2018-08-13T09:22:44 | 2018-08-13T08:57:53 | 115 | 53 |
[WP] Every human is given their lifetime supply of "luck" to be used at their will. Some choose to expend it all at once on a massive success, and live the rest of their lives with no luck, some spread it out evenly and use luck on random small events. | Jim was walking through the office when his phone vibrated. "Harrison Interview in 15 Minutes" his phone read. "Peculiar", he thought. He normally wouldn't schedule something so close to lunch. Jim headed toward the conference room and found George already there.
"You 'member setting this up?" Jim asks as he sits down. George merely shrugs.
A young man carrying a manila envelope walks into the room; he strolls right by the George and Jim and sits down on the far side of the table.
"Um, hello," Jim starts, "I'm sorry, I seem to have forg-"
The young man haphazardly slides two pieces of paper across the table, which happen to land perfectly in front of George and Jim.
Jim picks up the paper, and is surprised to see only two words printed on it.
"Oh, uh, thank you, Harold.. Harold Harrison, nice to meet you. My name's Jim, and this is my manager, George."
Harold ignores Jim and looks around the room.
Jim continues, "Um, okay, as required by law, I have to mention that at no point in this interview am I allowed to inquire into your Federally Granted Advantage status, as doing so migh-"
"Oh you can ask, I prefer it," Harold interrupts.
"Excuse me?"
"Please, inquire, or rather I'll divulge. You see, I have no qualms discussing my Advantage score, in fact, I'm fairly certain that I'll be taking your position."
Jim laughs, "Now wait a minute, if you're qualified for the position, and if we find you to be a good fit here, then we might offer you *the* position."
"*Your* position," Harold says blandly.
"Excuse me?"
"I'll taking *your* position.."
Jim gives Harold an annoyed look while George remains mute.
Harold continues, "..you see, you can say that I've been very *lucky* with the amount of luck that I've been given. While others have enough for maybe a free lunch, or maybe even a free car, my luck has been seemingly inexhaustible. My Advantage scored is incalculable, it is undefined. In fact, I have no real job skills."
"Oh really?" Jim replies.
"My only asset is my luck. Don't you realize that I didn't even schedule an interview? I was walking by this building and decided on a whim to ask the receptionist for an interview. I don't even need the work, I've won the lottery several times over. I only want your position because I know that your manager won't refuse me."
Harold stares at George , "Look, you're the manager, I'm not even sure what y'all do here, but I'm sure that my mere presence will double your profits. I've never been rejected from a job interview. I've never lost at poker, I've never been sick, and I've *always* made my previous employers very wealthy."
Jim takes a deep breath, "Listen kid, you do know where you are?"
Harold continues to ignore Jim, "Listen, George, I'd make you millions, and all you have to do is give me this guy's job. You can't afford not to."
George stares blankly at Harold.
"Kid, this is the Central Office of the Federal Advantage Adjusters," Jim says as he grins, "and we're the chief investigators."
Harold stares back at them quizzically.
"But that doesn't make sense, with my luck-"
"Every now and again some lucky son of a bitch is given an inordinate amount of luck, and it's our job to correct that oversight. We usually have a hard time tracking those given too much luck, because well, they're extremely lucky."
Harold shakes his head as two Federal Advantage Enforcement Officers enter the room.
"But every once in a while, those given their lions share of fortune seem to walk in on their own accord and make ridiculous demands. These officers will escort you now, understand that we'll be taking a close look into any of your Federal Advantage related earnings and making adjustments accordingly."
Harold is stunned, "But I've never been rejected from a job interview.." he mumbles as he's escorted out of the room.
Jim looks over to George and says off-hand, "I've been meaning to ask you for a while, how is it that these poor fellas just waltz into our office? You'd think with their luck they'd be on a tropical island somewhere. You'd think they wouldn't be so arrogant."
George looks up at Jim, "Well, Jim, you see, it's just my luck." | The guy with the gun sprinted down the street and turned down an alley, not sure if he could even hear the bank teller following him over the sound of his own pounding heart. His left ankle clipped something and he went sprawling, his pistol sliding just out of reach. He didn’t even see whatever he tripped over, which was a pretty bad sign. After saving up his luck for a year for this day, this wasn’t a good time for it to run out. And just then, just to seal the deal, the detective stepped into the alley holding a fire extinguisher. He reached out for his gun.
“Nuh uh, hold on just a second,” the teller said, leveling the fire extinguisher at him. “I know what you’re thinking. Shoot the idiot holding the fire extinguisher. You maybe could. I watched you back there in the bank, you had some moves. When you shot out the security camera, and the bullet ricocheted around, taking out two more cameras before knocking over the picture frame that knocked the guard unconscious - that was slick, man. Really impressive. Lucky, even.” The detective grinned like he and the gunman shared a secret.
“But I have to wonder,” he continued, “how much luck did you use? It seemed like you were even showing off for a little while. I’m sure you had a lot saved up, but how much?” He walked slowly toward the gunman, the nozzle aimed at his face. “I know what you’re thinking. How much luck could you possibly need to pick up that gun and shoot me? You’re out of breath, though. Your heart rate is up, and I bet pumping with adrenaline. Do you have enough luck left to make that first shot go straight?”
Yeah, thought the guy with the gun as he sat up, but I bet the second or third or fourth might have a better chance. If only he could remember how many he’d already fired. Shit. The teller pulled over a milk crate, sat down, and set the fire extinguisher next to him. What an asshole.
“Now,” the teller continued, “let me tell you a little about my life. I live under the desk at the bank. I don’t mean that I work a lot. I mean that I live there. I haven’t been paid in months, because a glitch in the payroll system deletes my file every. Single. Month. Not the same glitch. Different glitches. I’d drink my sorrows away, but I have this one-in-a-million genetic thing where…well, you get the picture. I don’t use a lot of luck.” He hoisted the fire extinguisher onto his knee. “So maybe I’d spray this thing at you and look like a moron. Or maybe I’ve got enough luck saved up to make just about anything happen. So you gotta ask yourself one question: ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well, do ya, punk?”
The gunman watched him for a moment, and then grabbed for the gun. The teller aimed the nozzle of the fire extinguisher and pulled the trigger. A cloud of fire retardant dust sprayed out, right into the gunman’s god damn eye. He dropped the pistol as his hand shot up to cover his face, and a shot went off as it hit the ground. The bullet ricocheted off a wall before grazing the gunman in the head, miraculously knocking him unconscious rather than killing him.
The teller dropped the fire extinguisher and stared at the gunman’s unconscious body for a minute. “Maybe I used a little much,” he muttered to himself. Two uniformed policemen, the bank’s president, the teller’s crush, and the guy who used to pick on him in high school came running around the corner into the entrance of the alley.
“What happened here?” shouted one of the cops.
“He’s a hero, and I’ve got proof right here!” yelled another man, crossing the street toward them and gesturing at the video camera in his hand. The newcomers all eagerly gathered around to watch the evidence.
"Yeah, way too much. Tone it back," the teller said, stumbling over an empty soda can before joining the others. | 2016-10-19T13:47:14 | 2016-10-19T11:57:31 | 27 | 11 |
[WP] There is a group of time travellers who create small changes and rely on the butterfly effect to change history. Now they need to prevent World War 3 by making a janitor lose his job. Detail how this stops World War 3. |
2009: “Sue Ellen, we need to talk,” John said morosely as he walked in the house.
“What’s wrong, John?” Sue Ellen asked as she walked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
John sat heavily in his recliner, burying his head in his hands.
“I got fired today.”
“Oh no! What happened?”
“I swear, I didn’t do it. Some papers with students’ Social Security numbers went missing and they found them in my coat pocket. I don’t know who put them there, but it wasn’t me. They wouldn’t listen, though, just wanted somebody to blame and now I’m fired.”
Sue Ellen walked over and cradled John’s head.
“Don’t worry, sweetie, you’ll find something else soon,” she crooned.
John looked up at her with tears of frustration in his eyes.
“But we’d finally, finally, gotten a little ahead. I know how much you want a baby, but now…” he trailed off.
“There will be time for that later, John, we’ll get through this.”
Sue Ellen picked up more hours waitressing and John got a new job a few months later as a gas station attendant. In a few years, he worked his way up to managing a small group of stores and Sue Ellen gave birth to their daughter, Moira (b. Feb. 12, 2014). But John Jr. (n.b. Nov. 11, 2010), the firebrand who would have gone on to lead the working class revolution that kicked off World War 3 was never born. | Old man Cotton was always a bit eccentric, but everyone loved him. He was always seemed to torn up when someone was being bullied, or have a bit of sage advice when life was just too much for a student.
Nobody begrudged him retiring after hitting the jackpot on a scratch off tickets. Everyone showed up for his retirement, students he had inspired decades ago showed up with stories of how he had helped and inspired them.
I watched it all, smiling and nodding from the sidelines. Everyone just assumed I was an old student.
In truth, I was, or would be next year. Little Davie, the kid everyone teased for being a nerd, the kid beaten behind gym, yet another kid saved and inspired by old man Cotton.
My smile as I shook his hand and wished him the best was heartfelt and genuine. I did not know what would become if little Davie, but I knew David Knox would no longer be attending Stanford and that Dr. Knox would no longer write his papers on temporal engineering.
No longer would the world burn fighting over a technology I should have never created.
Enjoy your retirement Mr. Cotton, today you save the world. | 2019-09-22T09:08:06 | 2019-09-22T08:30:30 | 90 | 26 |
[WP] You, the last remaining human, travel around the galaxy telling stories of the tragedies humans before you commited. One day at a seminar, you are asked a question you aren't prepared for: "What was the last thing the humans did, and how did you survive?" | "And thus concludes our discussion of World War 4. Any questions before we end this lecture?"
Nobody raised their hand. Unsurprising for a first year xeno-history course on a long dead race. Most people here probably probably took this as a "bird course" anyways...
"Well then, have a nice weekend everyone. Next week we will discuss World War 5. Or 'The End of Humanity' as some like to call it."
The students began to shuffle out of the lecture hall. However, one of them approached me as I packed my notes into my bag. I recognized them immediately - Quesu - she was an amazing student.
"Professor," she began, "may I ask you a question?"
"Of course Quesu, what's your question?"
"It's about you, but still about the course. I hope it's not too personal."
"Ask away!"
Quesu cleared her throat and asked, "what did you do during the end of humanity? How did you survive?"
Nobody had really asked about my experience during the end of humanity before. Most people just cared about the grade, which most of them didn't get anyways. I didn't really have an answer prepared...
"Uh well... I guess we could start from the beginning, with some context. Despite how most people would imagine it, the *real* end of humanity wasn't from all of us burning to ashes in nuclear fireballs. Although, that was how the majority of it went down for most people."
"That's horrible..."
I agreed with her - she was right, none of the 8 races in the Galactic Federation would use nuclear weapons in a conflict on an inhabited planet. But humanity was never one of those races - and we did it in two different wars.
"Anyways," I said as I moved on, "the real end of humanity was when the survivors off world mingling with the other Federation races began to disappear. There were about a thousand of us at the start, we were all people like professors who were exchanging information with other academics in the galaxy. When word started to spread about the war, we became a bit of a collector's item."
"What do you mean?"
I sighed, remembering what I had seen or heard about. I remembered hearing of how human beings were being found dead in the homes of demented collectors after missing persons reports. I remembered that serial killer hunting humans as rare trophies. I remembered those perverts that took away Alex before knocking me out...
Quesu noticed right away that I was having trouble replying. She quickly powered up her smart-lens to do some searches on Galapedia and covered her mouth as she skimmed over some of the higher profile cases. She excused herself, leaving me alone in the lecture hall as I remembered those days.
After a few minutes, the university's security guards found me behind the lectern with my head in my hands.
"Finished with your lecture professor?"
"Yes..."
"Then you know the drill then. Off to the science wing."
The guards wouldn't have much leniency, as usual. So I picked up my bag and let them escort me back home for the night. | "So you see, they did not understand. Those ignorant humans just did what they thought was right without thinking and all hell broke loose..." I made some exaggeration motions with my arms and the audience gave out a low gasp.
"And that started the war?"
"Yes, exactly... That was the whole start of the war. Many good lives was lost, such a tragedy, but I guess that doesn't matter any more. It was a really long time ago and all other humans are gone now anyways. It's solely to me and you that it's seen as a tragedy right now." The audience around me grew silent and bowed their head as in mourning.
But suddenly, a frail voice cut through the silence. "Mister, all the things you say is from a long time ago you say. You say that all of humankind is dead, how did it happen? How did you survive and no one else?" I searched the audience to try and locate the source of the voice, but in vain.
"Sorry, I have told you too many stories already..." I tried to come up with an excuse to leave. I should have thought that this question would come, I should have prepared a story. I couldn't tell them the truth, if I did they would surely abandoned me just like everyone else.
"Yeah, tell us that story mister!" The audience cried out.
"No, no, I think-"
"Please!" They cried out.
The memories of that day started to surface, the bloodshed, it had been all my fault. The guilt was overwhelming. I covered my face with my hands.
"Mister?" A young child came forward and tugged at my sleeve.
"I SAID NO!" I screamed and threw out my arm almost hitting the girl. She immediately backed off, fright in her eyes.
I looked around to meet the eyes of the audience. They were looking at me differently. Like they were accusing me, laughing at me. I looked away, knowing that it was just in my head.
I knew that it was a bad idea to trust those men that day. I should have trusted my instincts... but the things they promised me where so tempting. Only that they lead to humanities death. My own race, dead, gone, forever. I am alone, so alone.
"I KNOW I WAS WRONG!" I screamed at the audience spitting everywhere. "But what was I suppose to do...?" I sighed and leaned back in my chair, feeling empty inside.
"Mister, were you one of the ignorant humans?" The girl from before shyly asked while keeping her distance.
I smiled and looked over at her. "Yes."
---
Well, this was bad. Bye.
| 2017-05-01T16:37:36 | 2017-05-01T15:26:55 | 110 | 15 |
[WP] We wear the masks on the back of our heads so they think that we’re watching them. They will follow you home if they don’t think you’re watching. If you ever lose your mask, Don’t Break Eye Contact With Them. Walk backwards, and prey that there isn’t another one on the trail ahead. | I backed away slowly, making sure my gaze never leaves the creature in front of me. My arms was outstretched be hind me, desperate to cling onto something for support. My eyes sting from being unable to blink. I wanted, I had to, but if I give this monster a moment, even just a moment, it can end my life.
I slipped on my last step from the stairs, making me flinch and look away for a split second from it. I cursed and gazed back at the entity. Before, it was standing a good tweny feet away from me. Within that split moment, it is now within arm’s reach of me. I almost screamed and ran but I fought against it. This is my only option. To walk stare this creature in the eye until I get home.
I was a few feet away from my home this being is extremely far from me. I can barely see it at the end of the road and the night sky is barely helping me. I was slowly backing away, reaching for my door with my right hand when the neighbor’s cat jumped from the fence onto a trash can, causing a loud crash. The noise made me flinch. My mind raced to thoughts unimaginable. I was home. I was so near. I almost made it. I cannot die like this. I returned my eyes to the entity. I saw its silhouette across the street. I let out a deep breathe. I was safe. It did not reach me. I moved back even more, my hand still feeling for the knob. As I was losing patience, the door opened behind me. My safe haven welcoming me.
But it was not. Standing in front of me was it. With my face. Smiling. It did reach me. It has taken my place. Taken my face. I tried to get in, but i cannot. I struggled with an invisible force to no avail. How can I get in? Why would I get in? I am no one. I am nothing. I needed to find a face. But which one? They confuse me. I need a face. But not now. Not here. They are watching me. | It started years ago, I was nothing but a child when the star piece fell on us and the shadows started to walk around us.
As if they were trying to eat our own shadows they come from behind, slowly but steadily creeping behind you. Science, religion, paranormals, no field in humanity could even remotely understand them, my father was one of the first to be take in, his shadow became a nest for em', then mom fell when Molly was almost caught, and when my big sis really wanted some company and went to see her BF, she never be back, I've been alone for so long I don't remember Molly's, dad or mum's face.
It was early winter, I could hear the shrieks outside, the new nests always made the most noise, unable to escape, unable to feed themselves, consciously living in their minds while the body only serves the shadows, a small scouting party came by:
Full tactical gear, and a mask on the back, goggles for night sights and bloodied boots.
- "Use a mask behind your head, if you feel one creeping closer look at it, if it's within sprint distance use a light, and never let them overwhelm you, we can't save those already caught, but we can still survive, walk backwards if you see one and hope you don't encounter another" - she said with a voice that felt worn-out, tired and sleepy.
I was almost 17 when I left my home, they didn't searched or didn't cared I had been eating my neighbors, pets included. We may never know what the shadows are, but at this point we only care to survive. | 2020-07-01T04:57:35 | 2020-07-01T04:28:23 | 76 | 40 |
[WP] Having just been read your fortune and told you have but 24 hours to live, you go on a rampent crime spree. After 24 hours of violent crime, you watch your last few seconds tick away. The clock hits 0:00, signifying the end of 24 hours; and nothing happens.
Really excited to hear some good responses! | "Well... shit."
A cold sinking feeling ran down my spine as the realization that the gypsy's prediction was wrong hit me like a ton of bricks. I twitched in my seat, eyes darting around the lavishly furnished penthouse that I had so carefully persuaded myself into.
"Now what do I do?" The thought seemed so stupid. I had planed this out so carefully... But... I had nothing for what would come after... THERE WASN'T SUPPOSE TO BE AN AFTER!
Maybe she was off? Maybe I should just wait it out? Yeah... let's just wait and see.
Another glass of bourbon. Some of those high class finger foods they serve at weddings... You know... this isn't so bad. I could get used to this.
I kicked my feet up on the coffee table in front of me and flipped on the TV to one the local news channels.
"And now back to tonight's top story of man who seems to have nothing to lose. In less than twenty four hours he's single handedly knocked over five banks, of which he took only a few thousand dollars, leaving behind only a signature calling card with the word 'Gotcha!' written on it."
They don't even know about the sixth... a shame. That one was my best work... swapped all the money out for fliers of hookers.
"He mooned the president and ran away screaming, 'Thanks Obama'. Some how managing to slip away from the secret service."
Damn right I did. The look on his face... Priceless.
"There are even claims that he spray painted 'Eat Shit' on one of the walls inside capitol hill."
And that's just half of it...
"Police reports his last known location somewhere in the downtown metro D.C. area. If you see this man, please contact your local police department as soon as possible."
Aww... not even a good picture of me. Oh well... there's always next ti- wait no no there wasn't suppose to be a next time. Why hasn't *it* happened yet? Damn that gypsy woman.
A knock at the door wrecked my train of thought and brought me from the stupor that I was so absorbed in.
"Room service." A mans voice came from the other side of the door.
I didn't order any room service.
I stood from my seat and weaved my way to the door, a knot in the pit of my stomach slowing my progress.
Another series knocking came before I could get the door, louder and more aggressive than the last, and again the man called from behind it, "Room service, sir."
I didn't order any room service.
And there was not another knock on the door.
| He sat in his torn felt chair, exhausted. It had almost been twenty four hours since the fortune, read as the clock rang twelve midnight. He lifted his wrist to check the time, in his last minute on the earth. Fresh blood dropped from his raw face, stuck with shattered glass. Everything hurt.
45 seconds. Sirens rang through the streets. He turned to glance out the second-story window - or what was left of it. Red, blue, red, blue, across the buildings around him. It was almost like a lullaby, if only he could just sleep.
30 seconds. Screaming, yelling everywhere. It echoed through the silent night, accompanied only by the sirens that grew ever louder. He felt nothing for what he's done. He refused to live his last day anything but to the fullest. But how could he even call it the fullest?
15 seconds. He remembered the faces of the people who he killed. He had been mad. Irrational. Given others the same fate bestowed on him, but why?
10 seconds. His red-stained hands found the pistol that lay on the chipped table beside him. He raised it, but this time, there was no innocent child before him.
5 seconds. Everyone was angry. So loud. The police were breaking through the door. Why couldn't they let him have peace in his final seconds?
3 seconds. He looked at the gun that caused others so much pain.
1 second. He closed his eyes just as the police ran up the stairs. They could never reach him in time.
He waited for his senses to dull. A sharp pain, maybe, then nothing. But it all continued, all too real. The police surrounded him, and for the first time in twenty-four hours he was scared. His watch read zero across the screen. There were guns pointed at him from all angles. They were cautious, as though he were going to kill them all in one shot.
Vomit rushed up his throat, and he choked it back down. In the officers' faces he saw those of his coworkers, neighbors. All dead for petty reasons. He felt sick, nauseous at the realization at what he'd done. He raised the pistol to his mouth.
The clock struck twelve midnight, and the pistol fell to the floor.
EDIT: read the prompt wrong, fixed story. | 2015-03-26T10:04:28 | 2015-03-26T10:00:51 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] You've been cursed to be horribly influential, little side jokes you've made such as "the world is flat" and "vaccines cause autism" have spawned entire movements of avid followers. Today you accidentally said something that will turn out drastically worse... |
I live a relatively normal life for someone of my capabilities. I would consider myself one of the most influential people of my time, you may have heard some of my works such as, the ‘world is flat’, ‘sugar and caffeine are good for you’, or one of my most famous pieces, ‘vaccines cause autism’ but I may have done myself in on this one. You see, it started with a bit of a bad day. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed to begin with, then my coffee tasted like shit, my toast burnt and I got caught in the worst traffic jam I had ever been a part of. I grabbed my briefcase from the passenger seat and exited my car begrudgingly. I thought about just telling my boss that I was sick, and just going home to try again tomorrow. I could not. I was supposed to close my biggest sale of the year that day. People were always pretty easy to convince they needed the products, and just as easy to convince that they should buy more than they needed, but with this sale sitting at 22% of my average yearly commission, I decided that playing hookie wasn’t the logical approach to this situation. I would have to suffer through the rest of this awful day. I sat at my cubicle and let out a little sigh, this was going to be a long 4 hours before I was going to be able to go home. The day droned on. There is only so many times that one could beat minesweeper before getting bored of it. I answered a couple more calls but they all went relatively the same and ordered far more than they should have. To be good at sales you really can’t have that thing called a moral compass getting in your way.
Finally I got the call I had been waiting for. At first it looked like the sale was going to go as it always does; he complains saying that the amount he ordered last year was far too high of an estimate and his company lost 2% in revenue from that purchase alone, and then I say but this year will be different and he believes me and makes the exact order all over again. This year was different, I could have stuck with my usual lines but this time I was feeling bold.
“I honestly just think you aren’t marketing properly. You were to use the advertising company I suggest you would be able to make up for the last 4 years of lost revenue by next quarter.” There was a pause on the other end of the phone and I could tell he would be mulling it over. I am sure most sales representatives would be sweating in their seats, trying to plan their next moves for as many possible reactions that the would be buyer could have. I am better than most sales representatives.
“I think you’re right, my marketing hasn’t been nearly as high of a priority as I think it should have been. How about this offer, and you can take it or leave it. I want to quadruple my original order and I will need the name and contact of the advertising company you were talking about.” He said as though he were in some bidding war and had just offered a deal only a man who had gone mad would refuse.
“Of course! What an excellent decision you have made. Let me just get some of your information to finalize the request and we can both be on our way.” the rest of the phone call was a blurr, I was far too busy thinking about the profit I had somehow managed to accumulate. There was no way in hell someone would ever agree to that deal, that man is normally very business savvy and has been able to sniff out a gambling sales pitch like that with all of my other colleagues. Only one explanation was possible; I had super powers. I was some supernatural being born with the gift of a silver tongue. I could get whatever my heart desired.’I am amazing’ I thought to myself ‘I am incredible’ We finished the remaining signatures and said our goodbyes ‘I am the next messiah’ With a click the call had ended and I had secured 88% of my yearly commission in one phone call.
“I am god!” I exclaimed. Before I had realized what I had said, I heard the sounds of dropped glass breaking on the tiled floor behind me. | Yeah this is fun trolling people. What a bunch of staves people are they will follow anything and everything. Look at my track record.
First I said “the world is flat.” And these morons actually believed it. There was even a jackass on Facebook who had a video about it and everything. He came up with all kinds of nonsense that [PROVES IT!](https://youtu.be/3XclStdqkA4). And it’s complete garbage. Look people it really is simple the world is **VERY BIG** and you can’t see how big it is unless you are **REALLY HIGH UP.**
Keeping on the topic of space i decided for my next act of trolling that I would say, “The Moon Lansing was fake.” The funny thing was this one created twice as many followers as before 500,000 stupid people started pushing my agenda. The results were so hilarious. People were saying this was true for all kind of reasons. 1.) They saw the proof in a scene in an old James Bond movie Diamonds are Forever. (Dumbasses that’s a movie not real life). 2.) Then there was the fact the flag was sticking straight on in the picture. (Well yeah they put metal wires in the flag so it could be shown off. It doesn’t really prove anything if the US claims the moon and no one can see the flag.). 3.) Some even made ludicrous claims that the Nazis escaped to the moon after WW2 so we wouldn’t want to go there. (Yeah and killer bees make chocolate honey too.). I am a natural leader. Trump or Obama who cares **I AM THE TRUE RULER!** I am bigger than those two fools ever were. I can rewrite history with a keystroke.
Well now it’s time to push my values on people. I think vaccines cause autism. I hate them and I want them to go away! So in my page I put this out there, “Vaccines cause Autism and are useless!” The response was staggering I had half the world supporting my views my ideas. People were all on this bandwagon refusing to give their kids vaccines. It was a little unnerving hearing how kids contracted polio but you know what that’s their fault for being easily swayed. I mean everyone knows autism is cause by women who can’t control their silly vices during pregnancy. But anyway, screw Kim Kardashian and Kanye Who! They don’t mean shit to me I’ll surpass all of them as the worlds most famous person with the most followers of all time. **EL MUNDO ES MIO!!!**. I have all of these fools eating out of my hand!
But soon things started to get annoying. People kept sending me messages asking for advice. 1,). Who should I vote for President? (I don’t care.). 2.) Which clothes are the most trendy? (What do I look like a fashionista?). 3.) Should I like Ariana Grande or Rihanna? (Again who cares just go on YouTube and pick something you stupid dolts.). 4.). Should I block this girl on Facebook because she has a mole on her face? (Oh my god fuck off will you!). 5.). Where should we fuck off to my lord? (Oh my god I am going to shoot someone!). Like I care about any of these fools. But they wouldn’t shut up! All of these people in the world kept asking me questions, “What do I do next.” AHHHH! I can’t take it go away get the hell away from me.
Ok this is the last straw, **”ALL OF YOU GO KILL YOURSELVES!!”** | 2018-10-16T18:25:27 | 2018-10-16T18:03:31 | 55 | 10 |
[WP] The rules of the land are very clear. Anyone can challenge the king for his crown, in any way they want (test of intelligence, strength, etc.), but the king gets to declare one condition that must be followed throughout the entirety of the challenge. | The king was old and fat. I practiced running for weeks. I am not the fastest person in my village but I run every day. I made the official request 100m dash. I signed on the line knowing what fate waits for me.
The day of the race the king states "You must run the race with one foot." He motioned to his guard to cut off my foot.
I shouted, "My Lord, may I choose which foot I lose? I have grown attached to them after all."
Even his cold heart smiled "That's fine."
I pulled off my wooden leg. It had been amputated from just below the knee. When I was a young boy I had fallen from a tree and severely broke it. My brother ran out with my crutches.
I aptly approached the starting line. The old king and the crowd looked stunned.
The king stammered "No crutches"
The crowd began chanting "One foot! One foot!" Over and over
The king looked to his guardsmen "Take his good foot. "
His head guard looked at him "The law is you get one stipulation. Men we stand for the rightful king. That will be who ever wins this race." | My challenge was a steeple chase over 2 miles and 3 furlongs.
This was boggy land, my home ground, and I knew I had the King beat.
I slept well, confident and upbeat, looking forward to the noble rights this victory would grant me.
My family and supporters cheered me on. The King looked assured as he rode in on his muscular Arabian, one of the finest in the land.
I mounted my less athletic but far more robust thoroughbred, and prepared to race.
"Three legs then" ordered the King dismissively.
As I stumbled to respond, his knight removed my steed's rear left leg with a powerful stroke of his sword.
I remain in the tower to this day, an old man with no land or title. | 2022-01-10T06:36:39 | 2022-01-10T05:56:56 | 1,976 | 222 |
[WP] Most teens have breakouts of acne; you have it far worse. You have breakouts of ACME. This is the third anvil which dropped from the sky this week, and you're getting annoyed.
You don't have to keep to the three anvils thing. I was more or less just coloring the idea with that detail. | *At least there’s a cream for what you’ve got.*
Ellie stands before the bathroom mirror, mercilessly scanning every last skin cell for imperfection. I have never really understood her. She is almost six-feet tall, with long, runway legs, sculpted cheekbones, and envious green eyes. She could be in a magazine. She probably will be. And yet, she wrinkles her forehead, because she just found the Guinness World Record for smallest pimple.
“On the day of school photographs. Can you believe it?” she stamps a designer boot to the ground.
“At least there’s a cream for what you’ve got.”
“What?” she retorts, in a cold, barbed-wire voice — the type that says: enter at your own risk.
I sigh, “nothing.” But it wasn’t nothing. Not even close. See, while the other kids have breakouts of acne, I have breakouts of ACME. Three times this week, an anvil has literally fallen from the sky, inches from my feet — those strange letters engraved on its wrought iron waist. Bewildered? Confused? Panicked-out-of-your-mind? Join the club.
Ellie complains for another ten minutes before we finally step outside and start towards the school hall.
“Isn’t Miles a dream?” I follow her gaze out towards the oval and groan. Miles Harris. The school’s star track athlete. The only thing faster than him is his mouth. She gives him a wave, curling her scarlet lips into a flirtatious smirk. I glance back up at the sky: ominous, gray clouds that speak of a metallic prophecy.
“Ok. Next” It’s my turn. With all this ACME stuff I’ve barely considered my own appearance. I straighten up my blouse, brush back my hair and step forward, anchoring my feet to the Xs marked with gray tape. “Smile” the photographer says. I take a breath and try to relax. “Ok. 1…2…”
BANG.
I scream. Dust clouds the hall. The photographer's mangled body buried beneath the anvil, blood spattered on my shirt. It's finally happened. The first death. I take a trembling step forward, towards those four guilty letters: ACME. I notice something different. There’s something attached to this anvil. Rolled parchment tied to its bloody horn.
I have never closely inspected the anvil before. Someone has always been there. Mom, Dad, even Ellie. Someone to calm me down in the aftermath and shield me from my terror. The police pick them up afterwards, surprisingly calm and without the faintest of explanations.
A voice cuts through the air: “Anna! Don’t go near it!” It’s Ellie. I've never heard her like this before. She sounds afraid. Ignoring her, I reach down, untie the parchment and unravel it. The message is written in elegant, calligraphic letters:
*The Society of American Coyotes warmly invites you to an evening of nefarious scheming and otherwise illegal plotting. Date: 3/1/2019.*
*Time: 7:30 sharp.*
*Location: Red* *Rock Canyon.*
*Dress: Smart Casual.*
*Yours Sincerely,*
*Atticus Unfortunate, SAC General Secretary.*
I stare at the paper for a long moment, then I look up and my eyes meet Ellie’s. The look on her face says it all. I was never supposed to see this. | My heart can't be repaired. It's torn and worn in three different places. I've listened to Eliot Smith on repeat, and the pain perpetuates. She's there. Right in front of me. But I can't bring myself to say anything. It hurts to look at her, but I can't stop. I see a future, and I don't. I'm a mess. At least I was.
Things have been falling from the sky. Actually, not things. Anvils. Three in one week to be precise. The first one came, and I saw it coming. Call it dumb luck, or gut feeling, but I *felt* it falling — a black mass of pure weight. I looked up and *saw* it. The foreign object turned, spiralled and no matter which way I craned my neck it seemed to be heading straight for me. It was like it had my name on it. Part of me wanted it to hit me. The melancholic part of me. The one that believed my entire life was tied to a girl. It's not. My life was not anchored to a girl. Part of me wanted to sit in a pool of my self-pity and soak. Part of me wished that the anvil would end it all.
I moved. I dodged the first one with a last minute gasp of air. I didn't want to die. If I did, I wouldn't see her again. The second anvil came with a similar foreboding. I could almost *hear* the air that whistled at the weight's side. I looked up, three days after the last, and waited with an expectant expression. *Come on. Hit me. I dare you.*
I moved. I continued walking and found my natural stride comforting. The ground beneath my feet stopped me from floating away, and I thought back with a shaking head, *How could you think of, even for a second, stepping in the path of certain death?* And then I remembered her. Sometimes I like to entertain the idea of a quick death. Let's cut it short at twenty and accept that the remaining sixty years would be packed out by a meritocracy, lost dreams and postponed futures. I thought of the girl I would marry - it would never be *her*. No one could be her, and that scared me more than death.
The third anvil came. Goosebumps woke my neck, and I tilted backwards to watch. It was graceful, as graceful as a one-tonne weight could be. It looked right at me, and read my dissatisfaction. I didn't move — not this time. I wanted it. Three was my favourite number — I used that as an excuse to take the full force of the message that the heavens were trying to send me. I saw her face one last time, and I knew I had made the right decision. The darkness was like a blanket. Warmth wrapped itself around my body, and I drifted. I'm still thinking of her, even though I shouldn't. It hurts.
---
/r/WrittenThought | 2018-12-21T17:35:30 | 2018-12-21T14:57:59 | 275 | 27 |
[WP] Vampires cannot enter a house uninvited. Turns out, they invented Welcome mats to bypass this rule decades ago. | My parents were the sort of people who bought me a welcome mat as a house warming gift when I finally struck it out on my own. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against welcome mats, they're fine. They're the sort of thing that you don't buy when you first move into a new place. So, it's not like I had one already. But, it wasn't really something I particularly wanted, or even cared about having. My parents had no idea, or didn't really care, what I might actually want. They just wanted to give off the impression that they're nice people who do nice things, just as long as it didn't require any work. So buying me a house-warming gift was part of standard protocol, even if it was something I didn't particularly care for.
I looked at it after I unwrapped it, it was so generic. It didn't even reflect anything about my style or interests. Just a gray mat with the word "Welcome" on it. I tried my best to smile and thank my parents, "Oh, thank you. I didn't have one of these already."
My mom smiled back at me, "Now we can come and visit you any time we want."
I looked back at her, puzzled. My dad answered my puzzled expression, "... because it says 'Welcome'." *Yes, very funny, dad.*
I thanked them again as their visit grew towards an end, and ushered them out. As we walked out the door together, I set the mat outside the door. I was glad I wouldn't be seeing them again for a while, but on the off-chance they would come to visit me, I wanted them to see I was using their gift.
But, I didn't get the once-in-a-while visits I was hoping for. They kept finding excuses to come and visit me. They wanted to make sure my fire alarms were in working order, or that my sink wasn't leaking, or that my shower floor wasn't too slippery. They wanted to come over to tell me about the latest crazy gossip they heard. They would complain about drama-filled lives, or complain that I wasn't calling them often enough. It just got more and more frequent the longer I lived away from home. They even started coming around at odd hours of the night.
Finally, one time I came home, and my mom was there adjusting the furniture. I stared at her in disbelief, in front of the still-open door, as she nattered something about how I should really not have the TV across from the window. "... you would get a much better picture without all that glare..."
"Mom," I said as I continued staring. I honestly didn't even know how she got in. "What are you doing here?"
She stared back at me, with hurt eyes. "What? Is your own mother not allowed to visit? I didn't realize I wasn't welcome here." Then she started to cry.
I immediately reacted by consoling her, "No, you're fine mom. Of course you're allowed to visit."
Her tears instantly vanished, and she went back to rearranging my furniture. I walked back out the door enraged. As I walked out fuming, I thought about what vampires my parents were. Then, I saw that stupid welcome mat still sitting there. I kicked it in frustration. But, after I kicked it, I saw something gold sticking out from underneath it.
Under my welcome mat, there was a key. | "It has to actually say Welcome. As amusing as 'You Better Have Tacos' is, it doesn't qualify'"
"But Why? How does that even work, isn't the idea of having a doormat fundamentally set the conditions by which entry is expected"
This was a standard argument between Shin and I, well in reality it wasn't an argument so much as an exploration of the systems by which our lives (or lack there of were governed).
"The Humans have it so much simpler", A favorite quip of Shin, "They can have infinite interpretations of their scripture, and none of it ties to any sort of arbitrary rule sets.".
"They can't eat pork or something"
"Sure they can, they just don't, have you ever tried to enter a dwelling with 'The dog must approve all vistors', you physically can't. How real can their rules be if they aren't tied to some sort of consequence"
"It's not like you need to commit a felony to get blood these days I mean you can just buy..."
"That's not really the point. It just seems..."
"Seriously, this is the 100th time we have had this conversation", I started to get annoyed, "It should just be nice to know that there is a set of rules in place. The Humans have no actual evidence of anything. The fact that you can't enter a dwelling if there is any ambiguity should be comforting if anything. It implies that there is in fact a structure, and purpose to our existence. You don't have to believe, you simply know, and you know that other entities exist as well."
"Huh? What do you mean"
"Well think about it, Our experiments show that intent of the external party is necessary. That's why just saying the words 'Come in or Welcome' isn't enough. Otherwise 'don't come in', 'you're not welcome' etc. would all work. Knowing that the external party has to intend to invite you in is key. Humans don't have that, they can't tell if anyone else is anything more than a figment of their imaginations, they aren't really 'I think therefore I am" so much as they are 'I think therefore something is'"
"Yeah but what you're actually saying is that we aren't anything other than 'You think therefore I am' as we're interdependent", Shin said. "Doesn't that mean that we are potentially just figments of their imagination?"
"Yeah but at least you know the 'they' is there, 'they' can represent god, the matrix, the universal force, whatever... anyway are you going to hog the O-neg or what"
"Here", Shin tossed over the the container, and I caught it and took a good long drink.
"Phew", I said putting down the container, "One thing I'll say for 'they', their blood is top notch"
"Yeah, just wish 'they' weren't quite such officious bureaucrats", Shin Remarked.
"Could be worse" I said "at least we don't randomly turn into dogs whenever the moon's out." | 2017-12-13T11:32:40 | 2017-12-13T11:32:37 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] You are a genie, and after thousands of years of existence, you have grown extremely bored. To combat this boredom, you give all 7 billion people on Earth three wishes - all at once. You don’t tell any of the humans that they have any wishes at all. | It’s been 569 years since someone summoned me for a wish. I never thought I would wait this long to be summoned, they look up to the sky and make a wish thinking a comet will grant their dreams. How silly are they...
There was a slight hesitation when I granted three wishes to every human being in this world, about how this would affect the whole balance but there is no balance left thanks to them anyway.
''I wish I was older.''
Here we go, my first wish. She is 15 years old and she seems pretty upset that she can’t go to the nightclub. It’s time to grant her wish. She is born on 23rd September, let’s make this 22nd September. Congratulations human, now you are one day older.
''I wish Lucas was here.''
This one is interesting. He is 24 years old and he is living alone at his apartment. He had a break up with his girlfriend last week and they were together for almost 2 years. Lucas is his best friend and they know each other since the pre-school. I instantly teleport Lucas right next to him and the funny thing is Lucas is completely naked. Well, I guess he was busy with his best friend's ex-girlfriend.
''I wish I was sick.''
This one has a lot of potential. He is watching a football match and he needs to get up early tomorrow for work. Your wish has been granted, enjoy your COVID-19.
''I wish this plane crashes into the ocean.''
Clearly, this guy having a bad day and I’m about to make his day better by granting his wish. He is in a commercial flight with 160 people. He is a gambling addict and he lost fifty thousand dollars when he was gambling in a casino. Now, he doesn’t want to face his wife who is awaiting him at home. Too bad he is never coming home and all the other people on the plane.
''I wish I was a genie.''
Hold up. What is this? 20 years old girl who is about to jump off from the cliff. I can’t grant her wish if she dies which makes her wish ungranted and my powers would vanish for 1000 years. I can’t let this happen but same time I can’t make her genie, this is not how it works. I look for another wish that can save her.
''I wish I was a giant eagle.''
Here we go. You are a giant eagle now, sir. Now, save her and save me from 1000 years of boredom.
-------------------------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story-
*Just FYI, I'm not a native speaker so, if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes please don't mind it.* | Long ago, when the Earth was resplendent with green verdure and crystal seas, all animals great and small lived under the rule of the Sky King Genis. Humans were still a smattering of scattered tribes, and though they were a crafty creature, oftentimes they not only suffered at the fangs of more powerful beasts but also the spears of each other. In the depths of their despair, humans would cry out for help and the Sky King Genis, hearing their prayers in his heart, took compassion on them.
The Sky King looked upon the humans with their tendency to venture from their homes, hearts filled with adventure, and saw that though they went forth with a brave face, at night they they would cry with none to hold them up. And so the Sky King resolved to create for humans a creature they could call friend. He saw how the humans huddled around their fires, cloaks wrapped tight around solitary frames, so he plucked hair from his own head to give his creature warm fur for cuddling.
The Sky King looked again upon the humans and saw that the hearts of man were never still, for they were replete with fear. During the day they would survey their lands for monsters, eyes darting back and forth continuously, and during the night their sleep was as restless as the spears they kept next to their sleeping mats, always ready for rival tribes. And so the Sky King gave his creature a piece from his own valiant heart so the creature could bark with a roar of a lion.
The Sky King looked once more upon the humans and frowned at the weeping of the women around their funeral pyres, grieving the wages of the bickering between tribes. He saw the hatred man had against man. The never ending cycles of vengeance and violence. And so he gave his creature a breath of his own benign spirit so the creature would forgive his master's trespasses with a lick of its tongue, and in doing so, the Sky King hoped, the creature could inspire peace.
The Sky King looked upon his newest creation and pet it on its head. The creature muzzled against the Sky King's hand before bounding off to find its humans, tail quivering with excitement. | 2020-03-14T08:43:26 | 2020-03-14T06:22:09 | 319 | 11 |
[WP] You were warned that your newest crew member, a "Human", had vastly different biology from all other known races. This mad made very clear when they drank all of the galaxy's strongest known poison, saying that they "needed a drink of water." | When I first met the human, I thought he was going to attack me. He stuck his manipulator out and my first thought was that he was going to punch me. He instead took my hand firmly but with some lenience, and shook it lightly. He then spoke his name. It still goes through my mind on how strange it was, and how many variations of human names there are. We are like them, but so much different at the same time. "Hello, I'm Andrei Kuibyshevsky," he was from what was known in human space as Novorossiya. He was from a hundred generations of hardened warriors with iron resolve and specialised in living in depressingly cold habitats. Of course, cold to him was nearly Absolute Zero to us, so we stayed out of his way.
We brought him in because he was advertised as being able to do just about anything with a little training and guidance. He fixed the Telemetry computer in twenty standard minutes. It took one of our computer technicians over an hour. I still remember the first time he invited me to exercise with him on the Ship's high grav room. Of course, I wore a suit specifically designed to exercise in and still allow me to move and survive in the high gravity, while he didn't even cover his lower legs and arms, not to mention his head. He started off running, which I was able to keep up easily with him in the holo-sim track. Of course, I was forty-percent taller than him, and probably lighter to boot. He then asked me;
"Do you want to lift?" At first, I thought *'lift what'* but then I saw that he had loaded up a high strength titanium bar and put metal disks on it. '*An impossible weight, what is he doing?'* and I watched in awe as he lifted it and set it down five times in a row. He did other exercise with the bar, and each time I grew more shocked. Still I completed my exercise and just stared while he kept going, dangerous, as he was showing tiredness in his mannerisms and breathing patterns. My face must have given away my feelings as he gave me what I can only describe as confusion and then said something even more flabbergasting. "What, it's only a hundred kilograms." I knew he was strong, from when we were loading boxes of equipment, and he had a friendly contest with Nurva on who could load more boxes, and only narrowly lost. Nurva was more than double his size and weight, so to see him compete the whole time was surprising.
When he was done, he went into his neighboring quarters and brought out a tank of O2, pure oxygen. I recoiled in fear, thinking that he tired me out just so he could kill me easier. He gave me a reassuring look and said "it's only for me, don't worry." He got out a mask and connected it, and took in several deep breaths. I had just witnessed a suicide. To my surprise, he not only didn't die, He was relieved and then got out a bottle filled with liquid. He opened the cap and drank it, each time his throat convulsing. He spilled a bit, and when it hit the deck, it sizzled and bore a small hole. If I was speechless before, I may as well not have vocal chords anymore.
I learned to respect humans after that. | Vice Captain Mukato, personal log: Prior to today, I hadn't understood the Enorkian's warning about these, "Hewmuns" (I'm likely spelling it wrong, I've only ever received verbal reports). Today, however, I understood why my friend was so terrified of them. They're not the strongest, or the fastest. They're not even the close to being the most intelligent, with their leaders at one point irradiating their own planet over a disagreement of ideology. It's their constitution that one should be scared of.
We knew they were a durable species, with tales of these creatures snapping, and even severing entire limbs, only to survive and make full recovery if the limb was reattached quickly enough. We even understood their endurance, being able to stay conscious and functional for several days, with the help of just minor stimulants. Even so, none of us believed that their world was over 50% of this poisonous liquid. But after what I saw today, I have no doubt.
Dihydrogen Monoxide, aka water as they call it, is perhaps one of the most potent poisons in the known cosmos. The material itself is highly corrosive, wearing away and leaching out the metals of spacecrafts, and in so doing becomes a potent, if unstable electrical conductor. It's susceptible to sudden matter state changes makes it highly unusable, and is classified as a biological weapon.. It is because of this rating that I was utterly flabbergasted that the newest crew member had special permission to carry such a large quantity of it.
No one on board was prepared for this, certainly not the cook. When the Hewmun asked him for some water, our cook took offense, understandably, assuming this creature meant to kill several people, and restricted him to 40 millilitres. At this point, the Hewmun, who was vocally agitated at this point, drank the entire serving like it was nothing. To the horror of everyone present, myself included, it asked for more, and in a larger container. After observing it drinking nearly a litre of the galaxy's strongest naturally forming poison, I began research on them, and the truth is more horrifying than I could have anticipated.
They *are* poison. Their entire species averages a chemical composition that is 50% poison. It coats their eyes and the interior of their mouth. Their bodies use it to flush waste from their system. Their planet is over 65% covered in this poison. The extreme durability they have is from the extreme temperature variance that their planet has, from so hot that this poison is airborne, to so cold that this poison freezes and coats everything.
I am truly terrified of the day when they discover how lethal they are to the rest of the known galaxy. I pray to the ancient spirits that this never comes go pass.
-End log entry | 2020-05-18T10:54:46 | 2020-05-18T10:34:38 | 808 | 568 |
[WP] Your mission is to topple the American government. You are armed with a banana peel, red pen, and mastery of the butterfly effect. | According to the physics of the present day, the world is non-deterministic. The argument is that due to quantum fluctuations being probabilistic in nature, there is no way to truly know how the future will turn out.
That's a load of hogwash.
Sure, you may end up with an oxygen molecule moved by a centimeter or two, but on a macroscopic scale, nothing is going to change that much due to sheer randomness. Changes on the quantum scale only affect things on the quantum scale. If you want to change the visible world in its path through time, you need to make a change on a larger scale. Move a single molecule and you won't affect anything, but an entire cluster of molecules from the flap of a butterfly wing? Now we're in business.
I should probably explain myself. I'm a member of a secret organization which exists at the edges of time and works to influence the course of human history. We are able to see into the multiverse and watch the courses of infinitely many Earths, to determine what large-scale choices should be made for the betterment of the species. We then insert agents into the timeline to exert the changes which we determine will lead to the greatest growth long term. No matter what, we must always weigh the long term benefits to be more important than short term suffering.
The main problem is that time is hard to affect. Much like inertia makes it difficult to move the course of a large object through space, temporal inertia makes it difficult to move the course of time. Also like regular inertia, there are two ways to overcome temporal inertia: a large force in a short time, or a small force over a long time. In our organization, we almost always choose the smallest possible forces; the smallest possible changes that can then compound upon each other to cause the desired effect.
Which is what brings me here today. The US presidential election of 2040 will be between two raging psychopaths, and the incited hatred will be the spark for a nuclear war, no matter who wins. There are too many variables at play here for a normal approach to work, but we must still actively influence as little as possible.
Our plan is to enact slight changes which will culminate in the collapse of the US government in 2037. We have had people working behind the scenes for several decades now, in politics, the media, the entertainment industry. We set up Reagan with the idea of trickle-down economics, knowing that it would cause income inequality to rise. We sparked both of the Gulf Wars, knowing full well that the area was volatile and likely to lead to increased worldwide terrorism. We even gave Trump the idea to run for president - we'll make sure he doesn't get elected, of course, but his actions (particularly when coupled with the actions of Clinton) will truly expose the extent of the corruption in the government to the American people. The general outrage that so many are already feeling will soon become focused on their leaders.
The stage has been set. The government will fall, and all it will take is a pen and a banana peel.
Oh, I hope you weren't expecting me to tell you how I was going to do it. I'm already cutting it close on the timing.
Just watch the news tomorrow. You'll see. | Right after the end of the message, the face of the young lady slowly disappeared in a pixel jam and an error window bounced to my eyes.
"Your files were corrupted".
I clicked the OK button, thus creating a small air gap under my mouse and making the passage of light through my glass desk optimal for a quite short fragment of time, making slightly burn the skin of my bare right foot, forcing my reflexes to act towards moving it in a very fast yet clear curb hitting my desk 1.03 seconds after the air gap.
This desk, now swaying in a barely visible and very slight motion back and forth makes the red pen losing the balance i gave it by setting it straight upwards and falling towards my foot finishing itself his very fast yet clear reflex curb and launching the red pen by a straight hit towards the bottom of the door where, exactly 0.79 seconds after the hit, the cartridge open itself under the pressure created by the shock.
At that exact time, the black postman knocks on the door and hears the loud click of the case separating the pencil lead and sees the beginning of the red ink flooding the floor under my door.
I'm waiting for the time to reach exactly 3.83 after the airgap, or one second after the knocking to yell in my best ghetto voice:
"I beg you not to do that officer!"
One tap of my nail on my glass desk to imitate the muffled sound of someone reloading his weapon, and waiting for another half second before hitting with all my might the screen of my computer.
For a full three seconds, i was able to hear the silence on the other side of the door.
In a quick motion, i grab the banana in the plastic bag on the other side of my desk, trying to minimize the sound emitted by the friction of plastic with itself as much as possible. I'm now walking with loud steps towards the door while peeling the banana in a way i could have 4 equal parts of the peel joining at its tail. I dip my finger in the red ink and write a word for each parts of the peel.
"Black lives don't matter"
We're now at 67.56 seconds after the air gap under the laser pointing mouse and i can hear the black postman running away as fast as possible from my studio. I take my phone and ring my boss.
"The government should change hands in about two months, we won't be discovered, the leader of the negro rights movement will be named Samuel DeBellisée, born in 1972 in Bâton Rouge, Louisiana."
92.93 seconds after the air gap, my boss says "Gosh, that was fast" | 2016-07-26T16:57:41 | 2016-07-26T16:40:58 | 47 | 15 |
[WP] Your wealthy relative has died and the funeral is coming up. The will stipulates that the funeral-goer that delivers the best eulogy inherits everything. Your late relative left scoring criterion that no one knows except the lawyer that will be judging at the funeral. | “Dad was an honorable man,” my aunt began, glancing towards the lawyer sitting off to the side of the church.
I was seated in the third row next to my sister, who rolled her eyes and leaned over to me. "Not honorable enough to keep it in his pants though,” she whispered.
I held in a snort and coughed instead as the young woman sitting in front of us shifted uncomfortably, shuffling some papers she was holding in her hands. Apparently, she was my grandpa’s mistress he'd met after my grandma passed and she'd somehow managed to demand a speaking slot alongside grandpa’s four children.
“…and he would have been proud of my plans to open the world’s first designer sleep mask company with his support,” my aunt continued into the microphone.
My dad, who would give his eulogy last, looked across at us nervously. I forced an encouraging smile, followed by two things up. A loud, dramatic, sob echoed through the speakers as my aunt’s husband rushed on stage to console her.
“…I just,” my aunt got out between exaggerated breaths, “wish… I could tell him…more about my great idea.”
She burst into tears as she walked over to his coffin, kissing it as the priest moved back up to the podium.
“And now,” the priest said, checking his notes as my aunt walked off stage with her husband rubbing her back, “we have Ms Donaldson to say a few words.”
There was a murmur of intrigue as the young woman stood. The clunk of her heels echoed down the aisle like a slow military drum beat. She took a moment to compose herself at the podium and then looked up and smiled.
“I met the love of my life three year ago,” she began.
My sister leaned over again and whispered under her breath, “any earlier and we’d be having this ceremony in a Federal Prison, she’s barely older than me!”
“…and my love knew I was a true entrepreneur, which is why I plan to open a sleep support service for pets,” the young woman continued from the podium.
I nodded towards the lawyer, who was smiling up at Ms Donaldson with dreamy eyes, “so what do you reckon the criterion was?”
“You know what he was like, some sentimental crap probably.”
I was opening my mouth to respond when gasps of shock rang out through the church. I turned back to the front to see my grandpa’s mistress holding up a photo of them kissing.
“…you see? You all think I made this up, but I didn’t! I loved him,” she said, dabbing the dry makeup under her eye. A moment later she was walking off stage.
“Did you catch any of that?” My sister whispered. I shook my head and looked over at dad getting to his feet. The woman sat down in front of us as my sister coughed something obscene under her breath, sparking a sharp look from the woman over her shoulder.
“We all knew my father,” my dad began.
“Dad’s got this in the bag,” I whispered to my sister. As dad began explaining how he’d once put tape over his father’s mouth to stop him snoring, something started ringing near us and the woman in front pulled out a phone and answered.
“Aww, thanks honey,” she said into the phone, making little attempt to keep her voice down.
“This is a funeral! Can you please stop talking on your stupid friggin phone?” My sister demanded in a hushed voice.
“…and that’s how it all started,” my dad continued from the podium, “forty years later dad was running the most successful anti-snoring device company in the world. I can’t claim responsibility, but dad did used to say I was a pretty smart kid. So, yeah, I think he’d be pretty proud of my plans to expand the business to include sleep escorts. Thanks.”
With that, dad looked up and beamed, waiting for the applause before remembering it was a funeral and straightening himself up. He walked over to the casket as the priest walked back to the podium.
“Let us pray,” he began, pausing for a moment, “we are here to celebrate the life of Arthur James Jeremiah Toomey. He was a good man, and he will be missed.”
I looked over to my sister as dad sat down, “did you talk to dad about his big idea?”
She shook her head, looking as confused as me.
An hour later I was standing in the corner of a tiny room, stuffed with people wearing black and so humid the walls were starting to sweat. The four siblings were there, along with Ms Donaldson, leaning over the desk all trying to speak to the lawyer at once. The grandchildren mulled around the perimeter, siblings whispering quietly to one another, snatching guarded glances at their rivals.
“Okay, okay!” The lawyer said, holding up his hands. Silence fell over the room.
“Arthur wishes me to say that he thanks you all for your kind words,” he said, causing one of my cousins to snigger.
“And,” he continued, “he hopes you will all come to understand his decision, or rather, my decision, with time.”
“Yeah, ok well can we get to it then?” My aunt asked.
“Yes, yes,” the lawyer replied, “and you all did give such wonderful speeches. But without further ado, I’m pleased to announce that the estate in its entirety will go to…”
He glanced at each face before him one by one before looking back down at his card, “Father Thomas.”
The room erupted. Yells, shouts, screams, cries. Chaos.
“Quiet please!” The lawyer said as he got to his feet.
Slowly people started to pull themselves together, eager to hear what else he had to say before they left to call their own lawyers.
“I’m sorry to say, but Father Thomas was the only one who met the criterion set by Arthur,” the lawyer said.
“But the priest didn’t even give a eulogy!” The young woman said.
“Well, technically the rules were flexible enough to allow anyone who spoke to qualify, and Father Thomas was the only one who met the criterion,” he replied.
“And what was that?” My dad asked.
“That someone would say that Arthur would be missed,” the lawyer replied.
“That’s ridiculous – of course we miss him! And what about the other criteria?” My aunt asked.
“Well he didn’t leave criteria, did he? That was all he asked,” the lawyer said and shrugged. | I missed cousin Mark.
Cousin Mark was one of the most stand up guys that you could have ever wished to be around. Standing at a massive six feet and four inches tall, weighing what was roughly 250lbs of raw muscle, he had a brain which you would think belonged on your stereotypical nerd, and despite him looking absolutely terrifying with his tattoos, skulls going from his hands, leading to his sleeve which he had, he wouldn’t harm a fly. I mean that almost literally, as whenever someone let field mice inside of Mark’s house, he would always call me over and then leave, knowing I wouldn’t mind taking care of it. He just couldn’t bring himself to hurt animals.
We lost a good soul.
The main question you may have then, is why do I bring up Cousin Mark, and his attitude? Well, it’s because I slowly was remembering his attitude where I was, and more than that? I was remembering how the people here saw him as an average guy, and even saw his progressive attitudes as weird, devilish, satanic, uninformed, or what else have you. He was as straight as line, but fought for the rights of LGBT people harder than any LGBT person I know. He continued to push for equal treatment of People of Color, he wanted to expand the public transit system, and even had plans of talking with those in power to make insulin cheaper. I remember those fondly, and many other things.
Though it seems like the people here do too.
“Markus, was a champion of rights. He would never leave a man down, and he was the father figure and brother figure to many men and women out there, all looking for someone who they can trust and lean on. His intelligence was as great as it could be, the young doctor not only being an example of what People of Color could achieve, not only being an example of what a man should be, but being an example of what makes an excellent human being. Nobody could even come close to the prowess that he had, and it pains me that he is gone. To God’s newest angel, I hope the best, and pray that you’re looking down upon me, watching over me, being my wise charm & shining light through the darkness. Farewell for now Cousin Markus, we’ll meet again behind those golden arches in the kingdom of glory, where you’ll wear the crown you never could here. I love you.”
That speech was none other than my sister, Ariana. Ariana was my junior by a year only, as you could see, my mother and father didn’t waste time getting busy.
Oh yeah, I didn’t even explain to you what’s going on now have I. Well, considering the context clues, you should know it by now. My cousin is dead.
The shining super hero ended up dying to one thing which has taken the lives of many: Cancer. Specifically, it was leukemia. Blood cancer, because there was no other way the devil could take down the beast. The news had hit everyone pretty hard, especially me, as I had finally had my growth spurt. Went from 5’8 to 6’3 in the time which all of this happened, and I had just become 18. Sure I couldn’t drink here, but I could in other countries, and the plan was for us to party to celebrate my valedictorian status. So sincerely, fuck cancer.
“Is there anyone else who would like to speak?”
The preacher asked. He looked to be in his 60’s, as he didn’t look bad, but that grey hair and those fine lines didn’t lie. Nature always had a way to tell. He held to his preacher robes, whatever the hell those are called, as his melanated hand held onto the microphone which was stand alone, looking out at the crowd of everyone dressed in their black. Whether it be dresses or suits or just nice shirts, everyone was dressed for the occasion, and it was for a good reason. Everyone had been going on and droning off about Markus, talking about all the accomplishments and far more, and mainly for one reason: Money.
The lawyer herself stated that Markus had a fortune far bigger than we knew, which I wasn’t too shocked about. While he didn’t tell me everything, he did talk to me about how he was investing into everything from stocks to bonds to property to whatever the hell else you could think of. I did tell you he was smart and hard working didn’t I? Sad fact is that it takes a lot of financing to do what he set out to do and accomplish.
Nevertheless, the lawyer also stated that she was going to be judging eulogies at the funeral, and that the best one would end up with the fortune. Markus showing off his educated side, again.
“I’ll do it.”
I said, standing up and moving off from the edge of the seating, down the middle of the isle. The red, because Markus liked red, drapes seemingly giving me a menacing aura the way the sun shined and hit me through them. I could hear the whispers and the murmurs of people, most thinking that maybe my mother would win the fortune, or my Uncle Randy or even Aunt Sydney, as they gave some amazing speeches.
In all honesty though? I just wanted to say something, and get it over with. This sentiment is something the pastor clearly saw, as he softly shook his head, as if to warn against saying something callous, before moving to the side as he handed me the black microphone.
“Uh. Is this thing working?”
I had asked, before jumping back and shaking, surprised by how loud I sounded.
“Motherfu-“
The crowd of the church shouted and shook their head, as I sweat-dropped. I probably should watch what I was going to say in a church.
Clearing my throat however, I began to speak. Speaking from the heart, as in all honesty, I didn’t write anything for him.
Too much work. | 2022-07-15T02:41:43 | 2022-07-14T23:50:04 | 901 | 93 |
[WP] You can hear the sound of the Sun from Earth, it is loud but the planet has adapted. Suddenly the light goes out. 8 minutes after it died the last bit of light reaches Earth. It'll take 13 years before the roar of the Sun the moment it died reaches us.
Inspired by a comment on r/AskReddit
*edit: removed link to comment | ### 13 Years of silence
We’d known for many years what would come - the sun would fade out in a manner of minutes. We prepared tirelessly. Millions invested into getting energy from the ground, to grow plants, filter water and to cling to life like a very stubborn weed that manages to thrive no matter how much the grass around it has withered away and die.
Turns out a lot of the technology planned for Martian missions and beyond proved quite useful. Only a fraction will be part of this brave new world since we simply don’t have enough resources to go on.
In a matter of a couple of hours, the bright white turns to a dark dull orange, like a streetlight seen through sunglasses. I watch as it sets. It never rises again.
Some years pass. Not that the concept of days or nights matter. Two thirds of people on the planet couldn’t survive the change and some simply perhaps didn’t want to. The plants are all dead, and hence the animals.
But somehow, surprisingly - life goes on. Me and about 80 people live on a small base. I met someone and we got married after the dark came, but nobody wants to start a family. Nobody wants to bring life into a world that’ll never know light. It’s only a matter of time then.
It started happening when I was having dinner. Spinach and lentils. I could hear each bite more clearly as if suddenly everything was louder, and yet it was uncomfortable. In a few minutes the discomfort grew, and I could hear my heart thumping in my ears. Eventually my head started spinning as the tiniest sound was torture.
I covered my ears but it didn’t help. The annoyingly loud ventilation fan kicked in and was the only thing that seemed to provide a little relief. I put on headphones and played a white noise signal at the highest volume and the headache went down.
I found some other people and helped them get back on their feet and we blared some white noise from the PA system. Eventually we figured out the sound was from the sun which took a while to reach us. Turns out our ears always adapted to ignoring the hum, but went crazy when something was missing.
We played loud noise in the background and reduced it slowly, until we shut it off completely. For the first time we heard silence and we actually liked it. We felt more calmer and at peace than ever before.
A decade has passed since the sound stopped. Less than half the people who started this base are still around. Suddenly, the sun rises one day as bright as ever. Nobody understood why or how. Nobody knows what to do next, but we know we only have thirteen years of silence left. | Night 1: Darkness. Panic.
Night 10: It is clear this event is not going to stop. The news reports show scientists praying and preachers positing their hypotheses. Whatever happened to the sun, it is completely gone. The scientists have measured the earth relative to the echoes of the other planets. We have been flung outward into deep space, the Sun's gravity no longer holding sway over the planets. They say we have 13 years at most. This is not the blazing glorious Judgement Day we were promised by the cold war fiction. This is a slow, suffocating apocalypse. The Earth has been plunged into an unending night. Humanoids will be forced to rely on echolocation alone.
Night 1000: Being an apex omnivore has its perks. The photosynthesising plants went first. The bees are fucked. The sonosynthesising plants have taken over. In a few short years, Nebraska transformed from a big cornfield to a giant cultivated greenroot forest. I remember being force-fed greenroot as a child. Now, with no other plant left to eat, I hate them even more. The lowest of vegetables, despised by children from time immemorial, the vile greenroot is all we have left. It is the only semi-edible sonosynthesising plant. At least it has a lot of vitamin C. Since most livestock can’t live off of it, Beef and Chicken are now delicacies of the super-rich. Pigs will eat anything. Pork is the only good thing left to this cold, cold world.
The world is in complete economic and political collapse. As the biosphere dies, it drags everyone else along with it. Riots, assassinations, and war are now a part of daily life. The earth is dying and we humanoids are just a bit jealous that we weren’t able to reap the benefits of it killing it ourselves.
Life goes on, even if just for a while longer. I step outside my door into the darkness. I turn my antennae to the sky and hear the cries of a long-dead star. Wherever she went, we will all follow soon enough.
Night 10,000: | 2019-08-05T19:14:33 | 2019-08-05T18:52:22 | 87 | 16 |
[Wp] The zombie epidemic came and went in the developed world, most people survived, the military easily defeated the undead horde, and cures for the virus were created. However, zombies remain major issue in the developing and under developed world not getting nearly enough attention on the news.
Wow I didn't think that this prompt would would end up this big. These stories made my night, thanks for all the replies and keep up the good work. | "It'll be $50 grand" said a tiny African man in worn out business suit.
"Excuse me? $50 Grand for what?
"That's for the standard Hunting licenses and fees." said the man, still blankly staring at his computer screen.
"Wait, I'm trying to help your country here. I'm trying to Helllll... P!"
"Yes yes... So are the other hundred or so Americans." he lifts up his head from the screen.
"You American's come here, saying you want to help... But you just want to shoot zombies. Yes?"
I didn't reply...
"We have zombies, you don't... So you come here claiming you want to help, but really, you just want to use that gun of yours. Go Rambo... Be the Terminator?"
"Your people are dying out there, right now!" as I gestured toward... I don't even know where to gesture toward.
"My people are always dying. Disease, wild animals, mosquitos, my government, the rebels.... Even by you, A-Mer-I-Cans... How are these zombies any different? " he said slowly.
"You want to kill? Be my guest. For $50 grand, you can kill as much as you want. Go home, a Hero. A saviour of us poor Africans." he stated as he handed me the forms.
"We'll provide a guide, food, transportation, and even a town for you to 'protect'... Have fun, and please come back."
| If you’ve ever wanted to hunt zombies Africa, now could be your chance and the great thing is that the hunt will be on us! ZombieHuntersAfrica.com, in conjunction with Apocalypse Safaris, is giving away a dream zombie hunt, for two hunters, to the Republic of South Africa. If you win, you get to bring your friend or family member to share your spoils.
Here’s what our giveaway includes (5 days of zombie hunting for two hunters):
* Trophy shrunken zombie head
* Trophy zombie hand
* Zombie Hunter styled machete
* Zombie Hunter styled backpack
* Zombie Village clearing scenario
Included: All meals, accommodation, soft drinks , field prep of trophies, Professional Zombie Hunter, trackers, Headshrinkers, photographers and daily laundry.
Excluded: Air travel and alcohol.
If you’d like to extend your trip and take additional zombies at an additional cost or run additional scenarios such as escape the horde and helicopter madness can be arranged as well. Good luck!
Entries must be received no later than midnight on November 30, 2017.
After submitting your entry, you will begin receiving complimentary insider updates from ZombieHuntersAfrica and Apocalypse Safaris! | 2016-10-30T15:52:15 | 2016-10-30T12:39:54 | 198 | 29 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | The Thief sat in a bar. It wasn’t a nice bar; it wasn’t a *clean* bar; it was dank and shadowy and grim. Just like the Immortal Thief himself.
So long ago, the Thief had stolen immortality and as a curse, Death let him have it. Well, that backfired spectacularly. The Thief enjoyed himself, enormously. He had stolen the heart of one of Death’s daughters right after and Fate was a kind and generous soul to the Thief. She was beautiful and funny and loving to him. And after he had proven himself by stealing his own immortal nature, she left with him.
Two Ages later, and the Thief was still thieving, still plotting, still wanting more. So, like the thief he was, he took that too. Fate had delivered on her promise that she would make sure that he never died of boredom. He had lived a good life, but Death still periodically came.
Just. Like. *Now.*
“Son,” cried Death, greeting him with joviality and cheer. The old man really did like his son-in-law, much more than some of his other relations. The Thief smiled, a little sad this time. “I have a proposition this time!”
The elder immortal smiled hopefully at the younger. “How would you like my job?” | A shadow looms over me, its anger palpable in the morning mist. I don’t need to turn to know who it is. “Death.”
The figure inclines slightly, a bare ghost of a bow. I smile, and say, “Our deal holds, my friend. How many times is it, now?” A piercing screech echoes from behind a locked door, ringing against the cold metal walls. I can’t help but smile - after all, if I haven’t checked the tally today, I never will. “Thank you, my good man. I’ll see you soon.”
I turn back around and blink. What was I doing? What are all these papers, and why are they in a hole? What could even dig through that much steel? I reach down and start to sift through the pages, and as I realize what they mean, my smile grows. “I’m going to live forever!” | 2017-12-01T11:49:56 | 2017-11-28T13:19:24 | 2,040 | 16 |
[WP] An alien replacing your father and pretending to be him sounds like everybody horror's story, except for you and your mother since it is affectionate, caring, helps you with school and has even been promoted at work and is an absolute dork for SciFi movies. | "I know you're not my father," I blurted, brain firing on autopilot before I could jump in and put a halt to it.
Dad glanced down at me and raised an eyebrow. He was sat next to me, big arm draped across my shoulder as we watched TV together, like we'd done ever since he... arrived. "Is that so, kiddo?"
"You didn't stop me going to Grace's last night," I stated, watching his reaction. Not scared, just curious. "You didn't... You didn't hit me for asking. You didn't make me read the bible either."
"Why would I stop you from going to Grace's house?" He asked, but I could see he understood. He understood a lot more than he ever let on, but he only ever revealed that when it was needed.
"Because she's my girlfriend," I breathed, heart jumping into my throat. I knew he wouldn't react badly, I knew he'd never react badly... But he still wore his face. The face in my nightmares, the same but not. The face that sneered drunkenly, dispassionately as I desperately tried to gain the approval of the disgusting man that used to lurk behind those eyes.
"Because she's my girlfriend," I continued in a whisper, old fears constricting my windpipe, trying to stop the words that followed. "Because I'm her girlfriend too..."
The man that wore my father's face grimaced, but it was a grimace of sympathy. "Sometimes you can't sit by while you watch horrors unfold. Sometimes you throw everything into the air and you act in the interests of good, hoping that maybe things will work out."
I blinked, confused as he spoke. What did he mean by any of that? Had he taken a chance like that?
"What I mean to say," he sighed brushing his fingers affectionately through the disastrous mess that was my hair this morning. "What I mean to say, is that yes, I'm not him. I can't say where I came from or why, but I can say that I love you, all of you. You can love whoever you want, I couldn't care less. The smile on your face is all that really matters."
Relief and affection blew through me like mum's curry, and I cuddled close again. We stayed like that for several minutes, morning cartoons long forgotten. I was too old for them anyway, I just liked the one on one time with dad.
Although... a cheeky little thought occurred to me as I turned his words over in my head. Again my mouth moved before my brain quite realised what was happening. "Does that mean you'll let us close my bedroom door when she's over?"
He gave a snort. "No." |
''Will I see you again?''
It is hard to say for certain. Especially now my father earns more, my parents decided that we can move to a better, bigger house. I want to see her again but same time I don’t want to make promises that I can’t keep.
''Maybe.'' I say and hang up the phone.
I leave my room and I go downstairs. I sit on the sofa and I open the TV. Our cat Midnight jumps on the sofa as well.
''You want to watch some TV too? Let’s watch the universe soldiers.''
A few minutes later my father comes home.
''Did you finish your homework?'' He asks.
''Yes, dad.'' I reply.
He gets closer and he looks at the TV, ''What show is this?'' He asks.
''It is a sci-fi TV-series show, second episode.''
''What are they doing?'' He asks.
''I think they are using a wormhole to travel to other places.''
He smirks, ''That is silly.''
''I know you don’t like sci-fi shows, dad.''
He sits next to me, ''Are you kidding? This looks good. Just the idea of using a wormhole to travel through space sounded silly.''
''Well, many movies and shows used the same thing. You should see other movies where they use magic to explain things.''
Midnight jumps on my dad suddenly and scratches him.
''What is wrong with this animal?!''
''You used to be good with animals, now suddenly Midnight hates you? That is strange.''
''Probably he smelled something on me. Are you gonna watch the whole show?''
''I think so, Why?''
''Just asking. I’m going to be in the workroom. If you need anything call your mother, okay?''
''Okay...''
He stays in his room for hours and my best friend Jonathan calls me to play basketball. As I leave the house I get a strange feeling. Feeling that I can not quite describe.
----------------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story-
*Just FYI, I'm not a native speaker so, if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes please don't mind it.* | 2020-04-23T07:23:46 | 2020-04-23T07:11:56 | 290 | 78 |
[WP] You were hated even by the Teachers in the Magic School. One day you were given the Assignment to go through the Dark Forest, which was infested with Monsters and Eldritch Horrors. You accepted your death and went into the forest, but after hearing your story the Eldritch Horrors take you in. | You relished in their hate, their fury towards you.
Oh, you know what you’ve done, and their hate wasn’t unjustified, yet despite everything, the Headmaster still allowed you to keep studying at the academy, because *she* was in no position to remove *you*.
You laughed, treading slowly through the dark mud. A lizard scuttled out of your way.
And so, Professor Woods thought he would send you into the woods, doubtlessly hoping for you to be mauled to your death! You gave a long wheeze, and almost tripped face first into the mud from your choking laughter. Oh, the desperate old man, always trying to get rid of you!
You readjusted your tie, and took a small package of salt from your shirt pocket. You threw it into the mud, and it was greedily devoured. You were in the centre of a clearing now. The trees around you were charred, and dead, their bare branches reaching hopelessly to the sky, only to droop from its own weight and point to the ground.
You lit a match, held it in front of your lips, and gave a low whistle.
And the trees burned with a great flame, licking, and sucking in air greedily, scorching the trees even more, if that was even possible. The musty, crimson flames reached towards the sky. You spread your arms open, showing the universally friendly gesture, and welcomed the Eldest being, a creature with about thirty heads. Maybe it had more, but no one ever bothered counting.
It stretched its neck towards you, until it’s main head was almost touching your face. It wore a grim expression.
You crushed the match and spoke before the creature,
‘Kill me.’
It continued to stare at you, and you pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. Holding it out to the creature, you talk again,
‘Today, I offer myself as a sacrifice. In exchange, the Eldritch Beings will keep the people in the Ruchring Academy in eternal suffering. Is it a deal or not?’
The heads whisper into the wind.
‘w h y ?’
You raised your head higher, and allowed a shit-eating grin to grow on your face.
‘The people of the Academy have, unfortunately, found out some of my… unsavoury deeds. I expect they would contact the Royals about it soon, and I’d be brought to the guillotine.
‘They are trying to get rid of me, even as they wait for the Royal Letter, and they decided to send me to the Forest to get me killed. So, I thought, I could make use of this outing here to make a little deal.
‘I’ll die anyways - might as well pull them from their pretty seats, as I fall from my throne.’
The Eldest stared at you.
‘v e r y in t ę r e st i n g . i t hou g ht
th e r e w æs s om ęæ t h i нg a bout
y øu . ‘
It stuck its face closer to yours, and you stare right back at it.
‘f ø l l œ w mę . y o u r de æ l
i n t ri gue s мe. we ‘ l l tæ l k м o rę
ø v er d inn œr. ‘ | "Oh man, I've had my fair run-ins with terrible dungeon masters as well. I feel you dude."
The tentacled abomination slurped itself in what I supposed to be a sympathetic gesture. Which was quite appreciated. The Generic Dark Forest was a terrifying place, and my Generic Teachers at my Generic Magic School had sent me out here after I flipped them the bird all afternoon. I suggested they might even "suck it," and this did little to soothe their spirits. But that was the price to pay for being the coolest kid in class.
"Yeah, this guy just wanted to see us squirm, you know? A good DM keeps you in that flow zone. Not too hard, but not too easy either. He just sent hordes of monsters after us and we kept dying and pulling out fresh character sheets. It wasn't fun at all."
"Sounds like Xtoch'tlt," said one of the creatures before me, grunting merrily.
"Man, shut up," said Xtoch'tlt. "I'm just making it *realistic*."
The tentacled abomination, SklggSklgg the Third, rolled a thousand of his eyes. "It's not supposed to be realistic. It's supposed to be fun."
"Realism is fun!" Xtoch'tlt insisted. "You need at least some internal logic."
"Yeah," said The Creature Beyond Description. "But if you're making your players miserable, you're clearly doing it wrong."
Xtoch'tlt sulked for a moment, then muttered something about it all being "bullshit" of one sort or the other.
The realm of Generic was sad to have been thought up as part of the stand-up act of D'jzzch Olnn and its existence tittered on the brink of collapse because if he decided to drop it in favor of some other material, we would all cease to exist. At least that was what they taught us at the Generic Magic School. But my Generic Teachers could choke down on a bucket of wet chodes for all I cared.
I waved goodbye to the creatures of the Generic Dark Forest. They were sort of cool, I guess. And I think they thought I was cool as well. Not that I care. I don't care, like at all. But I think they liked me a lot.
Perhaps I'd drop out of school and join them. That would show my loser teachers that they can't control me. I'm not like a button on some device that they can twist or push in order to make stuff happen to stuff with the device. I'm different. I say stuff and I don't care if people get offended. Flame magic? It's pretty dumb. I said that to my Generic Flame Magic Teacher, and he lost it. You can hold a tiki torch and it's basically the same thing. Big whoop.
Dungeon masters. Teachers. There's no authority out there who can restrain me. Watch out, Generic. I'm going to turn this whole place upside down. | 2022-01-29T09:15:16 | 2022-01-29T08:26:28 | 143 | 23 |
[WP] Throughout the galaxy, it is a known paradigm that each sapient race at some point before first contact discovers their own “magic” considered to be arcane by all races other than themselves; upon humans’ introduction to the galaxy, aliens learn of the eldritch might of their “nuclear energy” | It began quite simply, then everyone died.
The delegation, at least. The occupation and dominion certainly. The Empire...possibly.
We, the Great and Glorious Niwraith Empire, chose your pitiful backwater planet that you call Earth as our next state. As we had done hundreds of times in the past, we sent a show of force into your system, skipping space to arrive well within your atmosphere all at once on every side. This usually causes a sense of fear, awe, and respect for the majesty and might of the Imperial Spacefleet.
This time...it didn't work as intended. We skipped in and began to broadcast the terms of your surrender in all of your languages on all wavelengths, and as expected some of you attacked out of desperation.
We expected your tiny ballistic weapons to bypass our shields, as they are designed for Weapons of Culture, not barbarism. What we did NOT expect is how some of your weapons flash-vaporized a number of our ships.
Our signals went silent while we conferred via beam on this development, when a second salvo hit, causing far more damage.
Somehow, inexplicably, your dirt crawling, infantile magicians had weaponized the very radiation that stars emit, and had compressed that so tightly that a single scrawny human could carry one in their hand.
Such weapons are inconceivable. We have seen the length and breadth of a dozen galaxies, and seen wonders beyond count...and your strangely hyper-radioactive rocks, that seem entirely unique to your planet, have held off the might of a thousand year military dynasty.
So, I'll ask one last time, ambassador...how much for your magical, terrible, glorious 'nukes'? We have a universe to conquer. | When we first made contact with humans after all these years, we were shocked with what we found.
A relatively clean utopia, crackling with energy that seemed awfully familiar to us. I asked the humans what Magicks they used to sustain themselves, they said it was something called nuclear energy.
When I researched into the topic, I was shocked again. Taking the very building blocks of reality, and rearranging them for their benefit. Humans, after all these years, understood magic.
What came next was an Exodus, or rather a return. Many of us went to Earth all at once, to seek refuge in our original home. Surprisingly, we were accepted with open arms. Humans had been hostile to us in the past, but that sentiment was long dead. Magicians were once again united with those who we shared Earth with all those centuries ago.
As our understandings merged, the progress we made was astounding. In the span of a few decades, humans figured out teleportation and other forms of faster than light travel, and we became acclimated with the concept of cybernetics. They enhanced our connection to the aether, and allowed us to perform feats only dreamed of by our ancestors.
Finally, there was unity. Finally, there was peace. | 2021-10-09T07:53:20 | 2021-10-09T07:17:12 | 309 | 125 |
[WP] A bunch of the Disney Princes go out for beers, and as they compare notes, realize that happily ever after isn't what it's cracked up to be. | The room was dark and filled with smoke. Several half empty mugs of beer littered a round table covered in playing cards and cigar ashes. The men sitting around the table weren't the kind to haunt an establishment like this– they were exceptionally handsome, making the bartender wench have wicked thoughts.
Prince Eric peered over his cards at the other princes. He was going to lose this round.
"Come on Eric, what are you going to do? I have to be home by midnight."
"Don't be so snippy, Charming," replied Prince Eric. "What's your deal, bro?"
"Sorry guys, I'm just on edge. Those damn mice won't shut up. All night long, they're chattering away and crawling all over the bed. It's disgusting."
"I know what you mean," said Eric. "Try sleeping with a talking crab that sings with a Jamaican accent. And EVERYTHING smells like fish."
Prince Phillip took a big swig of his beer. "I'll tell you what I miss. The adventures. Before I settled down with Aurora, I was a somebody. I battled dragons, witches, and once bested an annoying ogre and his talking donkey in hand-to-hand combat. Now, I just sit around on my throne, waiting for the next ball to be thrown."
"Quit your complaining, Phil. It least you have a name," said The Beast.
"Yeah Beast, what's up with that anyway?," asked Aladdin. "I mean, you have a name, right?"
"Well, see... umm. I was a beast for a long time... and I kind of forgot it..."
As they all started laughing, The Beast became furious.
"At least I had a name to forget!," shouted Beast. "I mean, who calls themselves Prince Charming, anyway? And you over there, you're just called The Prince!"
The Prince shot up and pounded his fists on the table. "At least I don't stink like a wet buffalo!"
"Boys, boys, settle down," said Flynn "We're obviously all a little on the edge. Can't we be civil?"
"I saw that, Flynn!," shouted Prince Naveen. "You just slipped some cards out of your sleeve, you cheater!"
"Oh, go kiss a frog!"
The princes began shouting at each other, and someone broke a bottle off the table.
"Enough!," boomed Hercules. "Stop being hypocrites and man up– we're just as flawed as the women we married. Beast, you were literally a talking buffalo-thing when Belle found you. The Prince, you're into that necrophilia thing. And Eric, you married a mermaid- of course everything smells like fish."
"Golden boy is right fellas," said Prince Phillip. "Even if he isn't an actually prince."
Everyone chuckled as The Prince raised his mug of beer.
"To true love!"
"True love!," they all toasted in unison.
;
"Well boys, I think there's one think we all can agree on," said Flynn slyly. "The goddamn singing is the worst."
Everyone nodded around the table as they picked up their playing cards.
"So are you going or what Eric?," asked Beast.
Eric sighed as he looked at his cards. "I've got nothing. Go fish." | "Technically mom the glass is half full of liquid and half full of gas."
The others burst into laughter as Jasmine finished telling them what her son sounded like now that he had taken an interest in science. She took a long swig ensuring that her glass was now filled with gas.
"I mean I don't hate him but this whole ruling thing is ridiculous. I'm just tired of the public image of royalty there is."
"What does Aladdin think?" Rapunzel asked.
"Oh he's just peachy. He grew up living on roadkill so for him every drop of spring water is a gift from the almighty."
"At least he's not always worried you're competing with him," Pocahontas said.
"What John's insecure?" Tiana asked.
"I swear, every time I achieve something he goes into this insecure fit wondering if he's good enough. I'm not sure if he likes me staying at home because he likes doing everything, or he's afraid of me doing something."
"You think that's bad, ever since King Adam became human all he's been focused on is bodybuilding. I mean it's nice and all, but I just delivered the future prince. I have half a mind to ask that enchantress to come back." Belle said. "It's all trap muscles, delts, obliques. Give it a rest dude we know it's back, and you're being the best but come on." She took a long deep drink of her margarita.
"Well this is interesting." Tiana said. "I thought I was the only one who thought the happy ending was over hyped."
It was long beyond closing time but with the concentration of regal people in the bar, the owner had left the key with them to close when done. They all took a swig from their glasses.
"We still haven't heard from her," Merida said pointing out of the group.
At the counter one woman was by herself. Her tiara had fallen to the ground but she didn't seem to notice. Instead she hugged her bottle of vodka like a drowning man hugged a lifesaver.
Being adventurous, Merida called out. "Hi there."
The woman turned. She burped loudly. "Hi."
"We've never seen you before and just wanted to welcome you to the group."
She held up one muscular finger up. "Not Disney princess, made a mistake but figured whatever, sorry for intruding."
"Oh it's okay if you're a princess. Where are you from anyway? We're Disney's looking from somewhere they treat people better. Maybe you can help."
"Oh you think Disney treats you badly," Fiona started her green hand still holding the bottle as she stood. "Let me tell you about a Dreamwork princess, and a guy called Shrek."
***
/r/pagefighter
| 2017-05-02T07:07:59 | 2017-05-02T06:34:10 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you. | The day I see this boy is a very cold day — or at least in my bones it is. They ache in the cold, always do. Such is life at my age, whatever age I am now.
He looks exactly like I did, this boy walking towards me down the street. The red hair, freckles, the groove in his nose that looks like an invisible pencil‘s pressing hard against it.
Strange how the memory can just be jogged like this after so long. That I remember once being him, being approached by what would one day be me.
“Hey, kid,” I shout. “Kid!”
He looks at me wide-eyed and frightened, as if I’m not an older version of him but some decrepit serial killer stepping out of retirement for one last job. Even if I was, why would I choose a kid like me though, eh?
”It’s okay,” I say, as I hobble up to the frozen boy. “I’m no killer!”
I remember being frozen back then, too. On this street, no less — although it’d looked different then. Time has taken a sledgehammer to the city, has knocked down the big brick houses and movie theatre and most of the shops. In their place are tall steel and concrete offices. Places for worker ants to dally, whose queen was lost long ago so they’re not sure exactly why they’re still doing it.
Time has taken a sledgehammer to me too, I realise. To think I once looked like this kid! Skin smooth as a fresh peach, now as wrinkled as tilled earth.
Although there’s no dent on my nose like there is on this kid’s.
“Mom says I shouldn’t speak to strangers.”
”Drivel!“ I tell him. ”It’s double drivel! You know, most crimes are carried out by people you already know? Strangers, well, sure, there’s a chance they’re bad. But better chance they’re good, don’t you think? Must be, if you go off the statistics. And I know you young people love statistics. They’re like your shields against reality: that can’t possibly be true because look at these numbers. Well I say it’s drivel!”
He doesn’t say a word. Sometimes I can be a little overwhelming. It’s harder to get my point across these days. Sometimes, impossible.
”Lighten up,” I say. “I’m not a stranger. Does that help? I’m you from the future.” I wave with the hand not on my cane. “So we know each other better than anyone. Get it?”
”We do?”
”Sure we do! Does Mom still make muffins that collect up teeth in the sponge — so damn hard they are?’
There’s another memory slotting back into place; like a swallow that’s returned to its place of birth for its final season. I see Mom trying to bake me treats but with money she doesn’t have, so she has to mix the good ingredients with stale and bad ingredients. Cement, for all I knew. Damn things were hard on the teeth.
”She doesn’t make muffins.”
”Well she ought to! But I guess she’s changed with the times. Too unhealthy for kids, these days. Although you look skinny enough to handle a bagful of them. Hush up anyway. I want to tell you something.”
He swallows so loud that I can hear it. ”What?”
Huh. What do I want to tell him? What did future me tell me when I was a kid? I’m trying to remember because I think it must have been life-changing, but it’s hard to excavate — my mind’s all covered in dust these days. Real deep, thick dust.
Do I want to tell him to marry the girl he falls in love with? Because thirty years of bliss is still somehow better than the emptiness that follows her death? Or am I meant to warn him not to marry her so he doesn’t end up this cracked old shell of himself?
Or was it not about that at all? Was it what ice cream is best at the Minkey’s parlour that… that doesn’t exist anymore.
“I got to go,” he says.
”My father was a researcher. A scientist,” I say. I say it urgently, frantically. As if the words are pumping air into a body on a hospital bed. It’s a thought I haven’t thought in fifty years, but suddenly it seems vert important. More important than anything in the world.
”Cool? I guess.”
”He worked hard each and every day. But one day, a few days before his retirement, he came home with a pack of beers and sank into the couch.”
The boy doesn’t say anything.
”My mom asked him what was wrong, because he never drank. Never. He said: ‘Today I realised something. I realised that the most important thing I do during my working day is smiling at my secretary and asking how she is. That’s the only thing I do that truly matters.’“
The boy’s still silent.
I think I want to explain the point of the story but I’m not even sure why I said it. It changed Dad, I think. For the better. Maybe it’ll change me and the kid too. Maybe it’ll save us.
”There you are!” says my daughter. She’s in her fifties and thinks she’s my parent now. She takes my hand and apologises to the boy.
“Are you okay?” she asks, as she leads me down the street.
”Stop fussing,” I say as I look over my shoulder. But the boy’s already gone. “That was the most important conversation of my life. Of his life.”
She smiles and kisses me forehead. “I know, Pa. It is every time.”
I don’t know what she means. But I do know it was a cold day a little earlier, and that I’m feeling slightly warmer now. It’s those memories, I think, that tumble back occasionally. They’re like sticks floating by on the surface of a deep stream; I reach in and grab hold of them, shake off the water and put a light to them. That way they keep me warm one last time before they’re gone for good. | Heavens, that child is ugly. Look at those crooked teeth and that goofy grin. I wonder if the circus has lost one of its acts?
How I loved people watching. The simple activity of just sitting on a bench, judging anyone unfortunate enough to pass. I had to stifle my laugh, not wanting anyone to think I was a mad old man. That necklace he is wearing too, what sort of child in this day and age wears a Phantom man necklace. That show was old even in my day. I only ever had a necklace like that because of my dad. Wait, that can’t be possible, there’s no way. Is that me?
It didn’t seem like it should be possible, but everything about him just reminded me of myself. Before I could even process what I was doing, I stood up from the bench, slowly approaching the young child, trying to look as friendly as I could.
“Evening, that’s a nice Phantom man necklace you have there. Where did you find such a fascinating item?” I wasn’t exactly sure what sort of conversation to engage the child in, trying my best to get the answers I needed. Something about this giving me a bizarre sense of déjà vu.
“Of course, you would know about that dumb show. Yeah, my dad gave it to me. He says that Phantom man is the sort of person who young people should look up to, I say he’s lame.” The boy only gave the necklace a small slap, trying to make his opinion of it clear to me.
“You still wear it, though? You can’t think Phantom man is that lame if you wear his necklace.” I couldn’t believe this child was me. Was I always so rude?
I knew the true reason I wore the necklace. I cared little about Phantom man, but I loved my parents dearly. A gift from my father was something I would treasure. Whenever I wore that necklace, I wasn’t thinking of Phantom man; I was thinking of my father, thinking he was the hero sitting at the end of the chain.
“Because its expensive. Dad says its one of his rarest items and he gave it to me. That’s how much he loves me. Mum also gave me this really cool band aid that makes cuts painless. She’s amazing.”
“She is.” I agreed, reminiscing about the pair, enjoying the nostalgic memories that popped into my mind.
The old band aid trick. It took me until I was thirteen to realize she was lying about the special band aids she had. It’s amazing how anyone else could put a bandaid on a cut and it would still hurt. Yet when she did it, the pain vanished. Guess that’s the power of a mother’s love.
“Yep, my parents are the best.” The conversation appeared to have ended, the younger me turning to look at a nearby shop window. I couldn’t waste this chance. I had to pass some fatherly advice onto myself.
“Life isn’t always going to be easy. You will go through a period where you wonder if life’s even worth living anymore. Then Mom and dad will die, and it will break whatever’s left of your heart. The first period of your life may seem bad, but I promise it gets better. You meet a woman that loves you for who you are, accepts your imperfections and sparks your love of art.” I felt the need to aid myself through my future hardships, hoping that maybe I might ease my suffering a little during it.
“Did you say something, old man? I was looking at the cakes in that shop. I wonder if they have any for two dollars?” What a brat. I just gave him the best advice of his life and he ignored it, just like I did that time.
Then it hit me. This was the Déjà vu. I had this conversation before, just from the opposite side. How’s that even possible? I was so caught up in the bizarreness of it all that I didn’t question how this could happen. Was it time travel? No, I had done nothing that could lead to me travelling back in time. Was this a simulation? That had to be it.
“Listen to me. I don’t know what’s happening, but you need to find a solution. I think we might be stuck in some sort of simulation. Maybe a copy lives until the age of seventy-seven before fading away to make space for the new copy. But that makes little sense. Why would someone be watching my life? What purpose would this all serve?” My chest felt heavy, the world around me flickering with various colours. What happens after I meet myself?
“Whatever you say old man.” My younger self merely pushed past me, entering the shop to look at the cakes inside. Once he passed through the door, it vanished, leaving me standing outside, forced to bang on the window.
“Please, I don’t know what’s happening, but we can’t keep doing this. We need to break the cycle, listen to me.” I dug my hand into my shirt, pulling out the Phantom man necklace, pressing it against the glass. “We are the same person. Break the cycle.”
No matter how much noise I made, he just ignored me. When I looked at the once busy street, I spotted no one. Only the same flickering colours. The colours continued to flicker for a few more moments before slowly darkening around me, ready to envelop me in its embrace. I took one last look at my Phantom man figure, giving it a kiss before the darkness hit me.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-07-08T06:48:40 | 2021-07-08T06:43:07 | 1,021 | 54 |
[WP] It is discovered that Earth is one of the few planets who's species haven't manage to breed with other planets' species. Defects leading to natural deaths occur due to Earth's ecosystem being essentially inbred. Interbreeding alien species are practically immortal. | "So you're telling me you've been around for the past 300,000 years and don't even feel bit off?"
"*sigh*...Yes." The Alien muttered, tired of the same questions.
"how about a little arthritis?"
"No."
"Bad back?"
"No."
Norman looked at the alien incredulously, "OH COME ON, IN 300,000 YEARS YOU MUST HAVE HAD SOMETHING HAPPEN?! LIKE YOU LOST AN ARM, MAYBE A FUCKING PAPER CUT?!"
"Yes actually, I had my arm shot off by a laser during the Plutonium War, near what you Human's refer to as the 'Orion Cluster' - hah! - many fond memories I had there", the Alien swooned with a wry smile.
"What the - Why is that a good thing!?"
"Friends, as you Humans would call them, I shot many dear friends during that War"
"No - What? I-I can't even -" Norman flustered pause for a moment before he began again "I mean you got your arm shot off, the shooting your friend thing, how is any of this propping up good memories?"
"Haaah" Alien let out a good bellow, "Human, we're immortal - the War was like a friendly match of Soccer, after a few thousand years the Galactic Union called it a draw because no one was dying. Had much fun, much fun - Shot one named Glorb twenty-seven times before we became good friends. As for my arm, I cut it off, it grows back 10 seconds later - Here watch"
"No-no-no you don't have to, come on now, no, put that knife down, No come on, this isn't necess- OOOOOH, WHAT THE HELL MAN"
Norman watched as the arm dissipated into a purple puddle on the ground, as the Alien's arm regenerating from the stump like Lego blocks.
"See, as good as new. Great way to impress the female" The Alien smiling at his own party trick.
Norman stared horrified, "H-How did you do that?"
"Interbreeding, thousands of years of evolution has allowed our species to adapt the strengths of every species in the Outer Ring of the Milky Way"
"W-Wait? You... have sex with OTHER species?"
"Yes - well our ancestors did, through genetic selection, we have evolved to what we are now, haven't you Human's tried it yet"
"NO! What, dude that is disgusting?"
"Oh come on Human...just a little bit?"
"NO!"
"How about those four legged creatures covered in fur, I've seen many people have them in their homes. Always jumping, I'm sure they would make a wonderful genetic synergy. Even you have one at home, it is always after you in love, you should t-"
"I AM NOT BREEDING WITH MY DOG GOD DAMMIT"
"Woah! OK OK..." The Alien paused for a moment "...if you aren't, would you mind if I did?"
______________________________________________________
This took a really weird turn, and I'm too tired to even contemplate changing this. | "But we don't understand how knowledge can lead to conflict?" The speaker said through his translator. The members of the UN looked to the Special Representative.
The man was a machine. Standing (a sign of respect to the aliens) he would talk and listen for twenty hours straight while representatives of earth could hardly keep their eyes open in their seats.
"But the information you offered was contrary to popular belief. And as sad as we are to admit it many of our brethren are not open to ideas that might conflict with their views. Some when faced with the prospect of being proved wrong, instead of accepting change, seek to destroy that which challenges their beliefs. As we discussed, the government bodies here try not to behave in such a way yet those people we represent might."
The aliens seemed genuinely confused. From their perspective this race was strange beyond belief. It was logical to react in fear to someone of a higher technology level without knowing their intentions. That they understood. The initial reaction only.
Then as expected the human race welcomed them with open arms. They seemed to accept facts about hundreds of other races that roamed the galaxies. Yet they pulled back at discussions of cross-species breeding.
Then to help the situation along the aliens showed aspects of human history where a crashed ship or two had deposited aliens upon the planet. That led to two hours of fruitless attempts to destroy the visiting ships, and then war between themselves.
"But we do not understand." The alien representative said again.
The Special Representative paused to think.
You mentioned, among others, Adam from the book of Genesis. You believed him to be of alien origin because of his extended life. A recorded account of him aging 857 years after his last son was born. A feat you attribute to genetics outside our biosphere. Likewise you specifically mentioned Jesus, from the New Testament, and attributed his ability to heal others as," He glanced at his notes, "Assisted Cellular regeneration. A feat your people have been very generous to share with our sick and dying. But to many of our people, they would rather believe in a god they can shape to fit their wants and needs than a reality that they cannot control. As we have stated before, please be patient with us, we are a young and stubborn race. But we do have a great ability to accept change. In two or three generations all this hate and fanaticism will die out, as it did with other forms of ignorance. Do you know that only last year I met a very old woman who explained to me that we did not land on the moon? That her god would not allow it. Her granddaughter apologized to me afterward. So there is hope for us. But we will need time." | 2014-08-20T18:37:07 | 2014-08-20T18:31:23 | 92 | 24 |
[WP] To your surprise, a SWAT team breaks down your door, rushes inside, and surrounds you. Only, their backs are to you, guns trained on the doors and windows. The closest one whispers, "Here they come." | Black clad and armed, the team of men that had suddenly intruded on what was otherwise a quiet meal for one remained silent, awaiting further instruction from their captain. Red dots paced slowly across closed blinds and the back door which led to the kitchen where Dave was sat.
He had barely any time to chew what cheap noodles he had just shoveled into his mouth before this congregation of bullet proof vests and submachine guns had burst into his home. Their heavy footsteps had become little more than a tiptoe once they had securely entered Dave's property.
"Excu-" Dave began before he was cut short by the SWAT member who had took position behind him, placing a gloved hand over his mouth. The man leaned in to whisper.
"Sir, I strongly advise you get under the table and await further instruction." He whispered, slowly taking his hand away from Dave's mouth.
With blind compliance, Dave proceeded to push his chair back and get on his knees to crawl under the table in front of him, a cheap dining table which had never been used for cover before, suprisingly.
The timing of the officer's instruction couldn't have been better as Dave's quiet Sunday dinner faced further interruption. His windows burst and his blinds danced wildly as they were riddled with identical holes from the gunfire outside. Shattered glass and splintered wood from the window frames began to litter Dave's kitchen floor, and that wasn't all.
The team of men in his home had little time to react, and within the first few seconds of chaos, Dave was joined on his floor by two of the officers, one of which was unfortunate enough to catch a bullet in the visor of his helmet, leaving a bullet hole where his left eye used to be, which was now vacant and filling his helmet with blood. The second appeared to have better luck as he was on the floor next to Dave clutching at his left arm, his mask obscuring a pained look on his face.
The rest of the team had immediately returned fire, with more uniform precision than the attackers who had simply redecorated Dave's kitchen with a series of burst fire. The identical intruders took up tactical positions around the kitchen, taking trained shots of their automatic weapons through the clearings in the torn blinds. The gunfire echoed throughout the kitchen, and Dave couldn't even form an opinion of the situation over the deafening and deadly exchange.
Three members of the team remained as the shots ceased. A suspicious silence crept over the scene, and the man who Dave assumed to be captain made a series of hand gestures, the final of which was directed to the hall which led into the rear garden of his home. An officer approached the back of the kitchen wall which made the corner of the hallway leading to the back, reconfirming his grip on his rifle before he breached the corner.
His actions were cut short as one of the previously unseen assailants was waiting for the opportunity the SWAT team had kindly provided. The attacker closed the gap between him and the officer, sinking a large knife in his throat, right under the jawline. The officer fired in a panic, reinstating the previous soundtrack of violence that had only recently receded. The captain who gave the order raised his rifle and wasted no time in taking a single shot. The bullet entered above the assailants right eye and left a neat crimson hole, which left a trail of blood falling onto his brow. Dave, still under his kitchen table, observed that the exit wound must have been much larger judging by the poor Jackson Pollock imitation that had decorated his hall.
The officer who had tried to turn corner stumbled back into the kitchen, he had dropped his rifle to place both hands around his throat, and the heavy flow of blood made itself apparent by seeping through his fingers. The gurgling that had replaced his ability to speak ceased itself once he hit the kitchen floor, and the blood escaping from his throat pooled on the kitchen floor, its edges racing towards Dave, forcing him to scramble back into the door of one of his cupboards.
The captain and his remaining subordinate seemed surprisingly serene about the turn of events, and after a few moments of this sombre silence, a message, incoherent to Dave, blared from the radio positioned on the captain's left shoulder.
"Witness is secure, over." The captain returned, and walked over to a rather shaken Dave.
"Witness?" Dave feebly asked, not even nearly prepared to understand the situation he had been forced into.
After a while, another uniformed officer, not of the original five, entered the kitchen where the captain had now sat Dave back at his table. He looked intently at the bewildered resident before pulling his mask down, revealing a similarly confused expression. Turning to his captain, he explained his shock.
"Sir, that's not the witness." He explained, beads of sweat gathering on his brow.
"Well then who the fuck is it?!" The captain roared, taking a step towards his officer, gripping his ballistics vest. The officers reply was short and timid.
"Sir... that's Dave." | My laughing was cacophonous, even to me. I can only imagine how it sounded over the voice chat.
"Listen," I said, addressing the group, "if you didn't want to lose, then you shouldn't have made it so damn easy." A clamor of voices poured from my headset, making me wince. One boomed out over the others.
"That's feckin' it! You're done! SWAT is on its way!"
I snorted. "Yeah, sure, friend. Whatever you-" My door shuddered. My jaw dropped and my headset followed suit as the door shuddered again and broke in a cascade of splinters. Men in black poured in, crouched low. A chorus of 'clears' went up as their muzzles swept over my tiny, one-room apartment. Still in fighting stance, they crouch-walked over to me and formed a semi-circle.
Except they were all facing away from me. One glanced over his shoulder and whispered, "Here they come."
I sighed, picking my jaw back up as I did. "How many?" I grunted a little as I stretched, loosening my stiff muscles. The man had already turned to face the door again.
"Twelve, we think, sir."
I made a little pleased noise a I stood up. "A full complement this time, then? This will be a good opportunity for you all." I began moving forward and the agents matched my steps without a word. Out the door, through the hall, down the stairs, and past the main entrance we walked. It's times like this I'm grateful I chose a second-floor apartment.
The outer doors swung inward violently, driven by an unnatural wind. I glanced around. "You ready, friends?" A small chorus of assent met my words. "Then let's get to work." Confidently I strode out the front doors, my squad around me.
There they were, just standing there. Smug little pricks. Twelve little black hoods, all arranged in a circle. I frowned. Another gust of wind blew through my group, this time carrying with it the voice of the twelve people.
"Hah. Ayup, they're gregorian." I glanced to the man on my left. "You can tell on account of the circle formation and the god-awful chanting." Another sigh escaped my lips. This group was kind of pathetic, really. They had practically nothing in the way of defenses and their working took so long to build up it was like they were *asking* me to stop them.
But first things first. I tapped the man in front of me on the shoulder. "Flashbang." Like magic the grenade appeared in his hand and he pulled the pin. I watched it arc for a second before muttering a word. For a brief moment, the world around me went entirely black and silent. Immediately after, it all came rushing back.
With the sweet addition of twelve gregorians writhing on the ground, clutching their ears and eyes.
"Ayup," I said, my voice loud enough to reach the hooded delinquents as I walked calmly toward them. "I figured that your little defenses wouldn't account for normie weapons like a flashbang. Real oversight, that." The distance between us closed. Twenty feet. Ten. Five.
The wind picked up again and I noticed one of them had collected himself- I'm sorry, herself together well enough to resume the chant.
"That's quite enough of that." I made a slashing motion with my hand and crimson spurted from her body along the line I'd drawn. "And for the rest of you-" I splayed my fingers each digit pointing at one of the punks, and brought them down like a concert pianist playing the opening movement. The air above them whirled and solidified, forming razor sharp frozen spears. They all slumped over, pierced through either the heart or the head. I turned slowly to face the last man.
"And. Then. There. Was. One." A smile spread across my lips. This encounter may have been disappointing, but at least I could get *some* entertainment out of it. The man gibbered and scrambled backwards. I think he might have soiled himself.
"H-H-how?" He finally managed to get out.
"Listen," I said, addressing the man, "if you didn't want to lose, then you shouldn't have made it so damn easy." I smiled again.
He went out like the first.
Just with more screaming. | 2017-06-28T07:10:15 | 2017-06-28T05:48:29 | 3,288 | 44 |
[WP] You are the worlds most famous fortune teller. You've successfully predicted huge world events and even smaller important events for friend and families. What no one knows is that you are actually a time-traveller from the year 2100 who owns a simple history book. Your friend is catching on. | "Hey man, what ya got there?"
Alan looked up from his book and caught the gaze of his roommate. "Oh, hey Louis, I'm just studying for a test that's coming up."
"I don't get you. You are in your late 20's, and yet you come to a university to get a history degree? What would you do with such a useless degree? Not only that, but you are already bringing in a ton of money with your online fortune telling business. The revenue you bring in from views alone is staggering."
Alan looked up at Louis. "We have already been over this. I really like history. I want to be a curator at a museum some day so that I can surround myself with as many artifacts of the past that I can. While I can see the future, it bores me to no end. Besides, if we don't learn from our past, how can we properly move forward?"
Louis just sulked, "Listen, that's noble of you and everything, but you aren't going to be making any kind of income like that. If you want a happy life with money, just stay the course with the fortune telling gig. It's that easy."
Alan just smiled. "If only it was that easy..." He began to think of the future he came from, the war-torn world that was filled with human ruins. "The human race is petty in that regard. We only think of ourselves and mark my words, it will be our undoing as a species if we continue this selfish path."
Louis just shook his head. "Whatever you say, man. By the way, what's the next big event you are predicting?"
Alan looked at his watch, he knew what it was, but he didn't want to freak out anyone. It was a terrorist attack on the very campus they were on. Strangely enough, though, the attack would take place on a Saturday, and there was only one death in the explosion. Authorities were unable to find the cause of the explosion. Some historians believed though that this death was somehow linked to the dark future Alan came from. Was it a professor who was killed? A student who was on the verge of a breakthrough?
Alan lied to his friend. "I don't know man, nothing's coming to me right now."
Louis just shook his head. "I guess fortune tellers can't see everything all the time, huh? You got plans this weekend?"
"Not really, just some more studies for the test that is coming up."
Louis continued to shake his head, "Man, don't study too hard, alright? Learn to have some fun too."
----------------------------------------------------
Alan had just finished putting signs in all of the entrances to the chemistry building saying it was closed for renovations. He was hoping that the person who was supposed to die in the explosion would be turned away if the building was closed.
His phone then began to ring, he looked down and the number belonged to Louis. "Louis? Where are you? You weren't at the apartment when I woke up this morning."
Louis kind of chuckled. "Yeah man, your studies got me inspired, so I went to the chemistry building this morning to get some early morning quiet time in. Imagine me, going to a study room on a Saturday morning, right? Hey man, I gotta go, someone else is trying to call me alright? See ya back at the apartment later."
Alan froze. The person who would die was Louis? "Louis, get out of the building right now!" He was greeted by silence, Louis had already hung up. Alan tried to call him back, but there was no answer, and it continued to go straight to voice mail no matter how many times he tried to call.
"Damn it, Louis!" Alan ran into the building to look for his friend, hoping that he wasn't too late.
---------------------------------------------
Louis watched through the binoculars as Alan tore into the building. He smiled as he pressed the button, and watched the building go into flames. He reached over to the book that he stole out of Alan's bedroom earlier that morning. "Only one death in this explosion, huh? This book is gonna make me a fortune."
-----------------------------------------------
If you are interested in more of my stories, you can read more at r/vintnerwrites. | “Hey, Joseph, can you do the whole fortune telling thing again?” Trish asked. “I think I know how you do it.”
“Sure, whatever,” I laughed nervously. “But you know the drill; I must consult my crystal ball.”
Together we filed into my office, filled with incense, curtains, and, of course, a table in the middle of the room with a large crystal ball sitting on top of it. Grabbing my turban and robes, I dimmed the lights and immediately the crystal flashed with colorful lights. I still couldn’t believe that these Neanderthals believed that a cheap child’s toy I brought along could predict the future.
“What is your question, child?” I spoke, using my fortune-teller persona.
“Drop the act,” Trish replied. “Tell me on Swami, where do you see yourself in the future?”
“Er…” I stuttered. “I can’t say. Fortune tellers are prohibited from looking at their own future.”
“Says who?” Trish answered indignantly.
“The…uh…timeforce.” I was grasping at straws. “It’s a lot like the speedforce, but real.”
“Are you really comparing your magic to a plot device in a comic book?” Trish replied.
“I…uh…hey do you have any, better questions I can answer. Like the next president? Or major legislation in the next year? Or perhaps you’d like to know about any technological advancements in the near future?” I hurriedly tried to change the subject.
“Oh, I suppose,” Trish sighed. “Tell me who the next Democratic president will be.”
“Certainly,” I responded, relieved. “Now stare into the crystal ball. Let the colors and shades fade into your eyes and try to uncover the subtle messages they send from the fut-”
“What are you looking at?” Trish interrupted.
“Pardon?” I asked.
“Yeah, whenever you get into your whole crystal ball act, you’re looking into your lap,” she observed.
“No I’m not,” I replied immediately while pushing my chair under the table. “Trish, the magic doesn’t work if you’re looking at me.”
“Says who? The timeforce?” she gently mocked. “Besides, I think I’m far more interested in what’s going on in your lap than the future.”
“Fine, you caught me,” I conceded. “I masturbate when I fortune tell. I know it’s weird and awkward, but as soon as we can move past this-hey!”
Before I could continue to execute my poorly chosen lie, Trish moved from the table and pulled my chair revealing the textbook in my lap. Grabbing it before she could lay a finger on it, I held it tightly in my arms as she approached my like a predator approaches it meal.
“I knew it,” she proclaimed. “You have something to help you tell the future. Let me see it.”
“Trish, no,” I replied. “Seeing this book could mean irreparable damage to the time line.”
“That didn’t stop you from becoming a world-famous prophet,” Trish fired back. She had a point, but I couldn’t let her know that.
“Nostradamus started it!” I defended myself.
“So wait, you’re worried about the time line?” she began thinking out loud. “Does that mean you’re from the future? Is that a history book about the 21st century?”
With her accusations weighing down on me, I finally conceded my secret. I let her see the book and read its contents as she grew amazed about the fate of mankind.
“Wow,” she concluded after reading it. “I guess we don’t have to worry about the Chinese as much as Trump thought, huh?”
“Trish, listen,” I spoke. “You have to keep this a secret.”
“Oh course,” she winked. “I’m just disappointed you didn’t tell me earlier. Together, we’re going to have a blast with this thing.”
*****
More Stories at r/Andrew__Wells | 2016-12-30T08:21:01 | 2016-12-30T07:05:49 | 382 | 65 |
[WP] Malaysia Airlines Flight MH370 lands in Beijing Airport, 3 Months late - passengers claim to have flown as normal. | I looked around. Two hundred and thirty-eight pale, shaken and frightened faces looked back.
“You all understand, don’t you? When we land,*nothing happened*. As far as we know, the plane left Kuala Lumpur exactly on time, we’ve been flying for six hours, and there was *absolutely nothing unusual* in any way about the flight.”
One elderly Chinese gentleman stepped forth. He spoke in very broken English, but I was able to make it out.
“Family. My. Will ask…questions. Government will question. Neighbors will question. Many people. Asking many questions. Cannot lie to everyone.”
“We have to. No other choice.”
“No. No. I answer. I lie. You Answer. You lie. Our lies…not the same.”
I nodded. It was a real risk. Even the tiniest slip up could….we couldn’t dwell on it.
We spent six painstaking hours reconstructing every second of the flight.
The Americans ended up sleeping. Made their story easier. The two Iranian kids was hard – we owed them everything and would have to pretend we didn’t know about their desperate flight to Europe. The family in Row 7 – we were lifelong friends now preparing to never see each other again.
We can’t risk even the slightest indication that we are anything but two hundred and thirty nine unrelated strangers crammed into the same metal tube for a burning and completely normal six-hour flight. No contact to ever betray us.
The plane will land exactly three months, two days and eight hours late. No-one on board will claim anything was amiss during the flight.
The media interest will die down with two weeks. We should get through the movie and book deals in a year. Documentaries will lose interest after three years. Three years is how long we have to avoid attention.
Then it’s just a case of staying quiet until we die. If just one of us slips up and lets out the truth…then it starts the questions. And some poor, brilliant fool will ask the right question at the right time for the wrong reasons.
Pray to whatever deity you believe in that the question is never again uttered anywhere on the planet.
There was a jolt, a familiar yet alien twisting of space and time. The pilot took one last look at me. I turned and walked towards my seat, hearing the radio call begin behind me.
“*Ah, Beijing Tower, this is M-H Three-Seven-Zero…*”
| "Uh, what's that?" one of the new recruits in the PAK ATC was heard saying. The control manager spoke up "Yeah, I see it too. It's probably just a glitch in the old radar. It happens from time to time, focus on your flights only otherwise you'll start to get behind"
The recruit shook it off and went back to telling the CCA330 where to land, runway 7 looked nice. Especially for an airplane of that size. He gave the instructions then looked at the radar again before he heard an abrupt sound from the earpiece. "Tower MAS370, good morning."
Lin tried to take in what he'd heard, he had 3 flights to look after at the moment, none of which was a Malasyan Airlines flight. He also glanced at the schedule which stated his next flight was another CCA and wasn't due for another 14 minutes.
He called out "Anyone dealing with Malaysian Airlines? Seems to have been patched to me?" which got the officers attention. "We aren't supposed to have a Malaysian Airlines flight in our radar for another 53 minutes? What's going on? Put it on speaker"
"Good morning, tower PEK, please state your identification again." Lin asked.
"Malaysia Airlines 3-7-0, I repeat, 3-7-0. Approaching PEK Airport." The voice rung around the room, few had forgotten that MH370 is no longer a used flight number. Hushed whispers had already begun amongst the staff.
The commanding officer took an empty radar terminal and opened up coms to the plane
"MAS 370 - Please descend to four zero and circle south-west of PEK."
"Copy that" came the response.
He turned around and shouted to Lin, "Get the military on the phone right now. We have an unidentified aircraft coming in, possibly imitating another aircraft. I'm not letting the damn anywhere near Beijing until we have full visual. Just.. make sure the interceptors are unarmed." | 2014-06-25T16:29:30 | 2014-06-25T15:19:07 | 58 | 19 |
[WP] You're a human trader for the intergalactic slave market. Advertise to buyers why they should buy human instead of another species. | Alright look, I'm not gonna lie to you: Humans are tricky. They're weak, slow, and for all that's holy they love to complain - but that's not why you want one of my stock.
You want *my* stock, because they're fucking clever - and they love a challenge. Analysis and problem solving, that's where the Human's shine. Each one is inherently different, so we raise them from birth to be acclimated to certain tasks. Need an engineer? Check out batch H-473. Military adviser? H-649. We can even custom rear you a batch for whatever purpose you have in mind... for a price.
What's that? Can't be that clever if they're enslaved? I suppose you have a point, they do tend to be a little naive. Here's the trick though - they don't know they're slaves! A little bit of word play here, a little false hope there - I know it's an inconvenience, but the human spirit will not be broken by force - but they're so eager to be manipulated.
Tell you what, I'll order you up a personal assistant to try out. The only thing I ask is that you play along with our charade - they get quite upset when they figure out the truth and may need to be put down. Now, a final warning - our process is sound, but occasionally one of the slaves will ask about a 'promotion' or some such nonsense. If this happens, or they become too unruly, just use the protected catchphrase to settle them down.
"This internship will look great on your resume." | Throck opened the cargo bay and took a look at his stock. It quivered with sweat. Each and every one, at one point or another, damaged the cage or tried to escape. Throck planned this well. He closed the bay and walked back to the control deck.
Some panels no longer beeped and buzzed. A dull, old force had overtaken them. When inspecting mission control, he found sour Dwour meat oozing out of its container into the chair. Today, he thought. Today... no more takeout.
He flew around the known galaxy, at brothels and beaches. At farmers and pharmacists. No one had use for the eerie, colorful creatures of Plural ZZ Alpha.
He probed them to regulation and sent the unresponsive back to their native land. Legalities accommodated, yet no one could make good use of a constantly escaping workforce.
Today. Throck paced.
'Today. I dock at Vallnar's Gag Emporium.'
Throck shook with excitement. He gripped the order slip in his tentahand.
The perfect gag gift, he told 'em: the angry, escaping slave. | 2014-11-22T09:04:18 | 2014-11-22T05:50:54 | 242 | 95 |
[WP] While you were growing up, your grandmother always sang you a nursery rhyme as you fell asleep. You just discovered it is an ancient spell of protection. Not only that, but there are more verses, with more interesting effects. | I got the call on the way to work. I wasn't moving very fast in the car, almost at a standstill because of the morning rush. But the entire world seemed to join that sluggish shuffling of cars and trucks and buses on that routine morning grind. Gran was dead. My dad who is as stoic as they come, quivered asking if I was ok, because his mother was dead too.
I knew this phone call was coming, I had been waiting on it all week. Gran had been dying of cancer for months now. She was 13 years into a 15-year expected lifespan leukaemia diagnosis when the doctors told her she had four weeks to live. It had spread everywhere, but they gave her 6 chemo treatments and that bought some time. Time to say goodbye, time to get her affairs in order.
She was thankful for that, and even in those last months, except for the final one, she had some quality of life given back to her. I was thankful of that too.
I was able to leave work early and go meet the family at her house. It was a tiny house, given to her in the last couple years of her life from a council who had stripped her of her actual home of 35 years. In her old age she could not continue to care for her adult eldest daughter who had cerebral palsy. And since the home was a specialist care home, they would not let her die in it with dignity. A woman who had given her life to the care of others, abandoned at the end. These thoughts made me enter her tiny fake house already angry. But then I saw the pictures on the walls, of her, her children, and us, the grandchildren. She had been a matriarch of a family now spanning dozens of people, 6 children of her own. 15 grandchildren and dozen great grandchildren. What a legacy to leave behind, and my anger almost just seemed to melt away in nothingness amongst those picture-frames of weddings and graduations strewn across what seemed like every wall surface.
After the pleasantries were given, the tears shed, and the tissues handed out her will came into force. Quite literally. All her belongings were set aside for specific people or family groups to be shared as they saw fit. I looked down the list while her lawyer sat in attendance, making sure the effect of the will was carried out.
My gran was not a wealthy lady in the traditional sense at least. She had little money. But her few pieces of prized jewellery went to the girls, as they sat there over the box I had a wave of nausea overcome me briefly as they seemed like vultures over a carcass. We were meant to be talking about gran, not fighting over her trinkets. I did notice that my name had not appeared on that list yet for items that were earmarked. My heart sank as I thought my gran had spited me at the last because I had spent 7 years at university in a city a few hours away, and had not visited as often as I should have. For that I still have a lot of regret.
But then it came. My name, marked against a single entry. It had only the words “Songbook” next to it. This suddenly all made sense, I had been musical at school; played in the school brass band, took piano and saxophone at an advanced enough level to enter a music collage although I had chosen not too. So, I was expecting sheet music from a different time, songs we had sung and played on the keyboard growing up. What a nice thought from her. Rocks and silver and gold now seemed to pale against what I was getting. She had made me feel special, one last time. Thank you gran.
When I received the leather-bound A5 ‘’book’’, it immediately struck me more like a personalised diary. These were not printed pages but handwritten, with musical notes and lyrics adorning almost every page. There was a library here of almost forgotten old songs and poems, a true treasure of history and culture from a previous time. I recognised a few, many I did not. Not all had the tunes inscribed next to their lyrics, and I feared that while the words of the song might remain intact, its tune would die.
Then my eye came to a song where I recognised a single verse. Like a flood of memory, I could hear my gran’s voice sing this to me, but I would have been impossibly young. I was looking out through my eyes up at my gran, looking younger than I remember her. How could this be possible I wondered, to have a memory intact while I was so young. But there it was, the song droning in my ears, louder now. I instinctively started to hum the tune I was hearing. Some family turned their heads in mild curiosity.
The rest of the house seemed to draw quiet, yet people still exchanged solemn conversations, cars drew past yet they made sounds as if driving on linen. Engines subdued to a quiet hum. The entire world sounded as if it were waiting in baited anticipation for *something* to happen. Yet nothing did.
Then I started to put word to note:
​
​
*In ancient hearth and home, he speaketh*
*Under tree and sun, he giveth*
*Before him, he does cometh*
*The kindling does glow bright*
​
​
*I will be his explorer*
*I will be his servant*
And n*o harm, will come, to me.*
*The kindling does glow bright…*
​
​
As the family gave me mild applause at this sudden rendition of this ‘hymn’ from Gran’s book. I felt elated, like a worry I didn’t know I had, disappeared before it could take shape. The world began to breathe again.
I came around to my senses after being almost unusually lost in that book for the rest of the visit. Putting it into my bag I left them to continue their squabbling, as I was tired and needed to get home. My mother stopped me at the door and asked me to stay for one more thing. She had a photo album she wanted to share. At my protestations, she assured me she just wanted to show me one photo.
It was of me as a baby being held by not my gran, but my great grandmother. My gran’s mother. She told me I was only 6 weeks old in that photo, as I had spent the first few weeks of my life in intensive care. For some reason, I had apparently decided to stay inside the womb and not come out when I was due. To such an extent that I had begun breathing amniotic fluid. Massive infection had set in and after I was born, taking my first breaths not of air, but water, I was not expected to survive.
​ |
“You okay mate?” Jacob asked gingerly, patting his weary friend on the shoulder. Graham merely shrugged, smiling weakly and rubbing his eyes. “Some serious bags you got there, dude.”
“Yeah just had a shit night’s sleep,” he murmured, turning away and running his eyes along the mantlepiece, adorned with odd trinkets and crystals, a tiny bronze statue of buddha, and a pewter ashtray complete with some half-burnt sprigs of white sage inside. He caught his reflection in a small mirror, thick brown hair matted with days of not showering, his face flanked with fluffy, curly hairs trying their best to be any semblance of a beard. Beneath the rims of his glasses his eyes were dark. He hadn't been particularly close with his grandma, at least he didn’t think so, but sleep hadn’t come easy since she died, plagued with horrible nightmares and her warm, smiling face.
“My mum used to be into all this spiritualist shit, bit weird though,” Jacob mused, poking through cupboards and drawers. The front room was retro, to say the least. Garish wallpaper and old units that might have been the height of fashion back in the early eighties, but now it looked like the designs of a madman who exclusively shopped at charity shops.
“Yeah same,” Graham murmured, turning over a photograph of him being held as a baby. The back of the frame was scrawled on with black biro. ‘My little Gray, 17/09/92.’ He placed it gently in a small shoebox nestled on the faded upholstery of the sofa, setting it next to a little wolf statue and a necklace. He remembered his grandma always wore the necklace, an odd tiny bronze chain, almost dark green now, holding a silver pendant with some description of Viking writing and designs on it. He smiled. Crazy Pagan, that’s what his dad used to call her.
He sighed, one more cursory glance cast across the room before he traipsed upstairs. The stairs were steep, and creaked, the smell of must getting stronger with every step.
“Want me to come with you mate? Don’t want you to get wierded out if you stumble across something *untoward,”* Jacob winked, leaning his head around the bannister. Graham blew air through his nose, shaking his head at the obscenely inappropriate joke. Bless the guy, he’s only trying to make you feel better, he thought. He turned into his Grandma's room, holding his arm at the door, his jaw agape. There she was, sat on the bed.
She smiled with an utmost warmth at him, her glasses dangling tiny beads over his loose skinned face.
“Hello love,” she tapped the bed next to her. He surged forward, gently sobbing and holding her tightly. “Oooh, there we go!” She rubbed his back with her hands, squeezing him. He felt like a young child again.
“Are you really here?” he whispered, sitting next to her.
“No love,” she smiled sadly, “not really. But I’ll always be watching over you, I told you.” She tapped the side of her nose, and he chuckled, a surge of warmth and consciousness rising through his weary, emotionless body.
“Oh god,” he sniffed, wiping his eyes. “I’m sorry grandma, I should have been here. I should have come to visit a little more.” She shushed him, stroking his hair.
“Oh Gray, you’re just tired. Did you not remember the lullaby I taught you?” He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking hard. After a while he hummed a tune, turning to her and smiling.
“*There’s blood on the blankets that cover, those, who to earth came from the sky...”* She smiled at him.
“That’s the one. *Farewell mother, father, you must not cry, for as a* *Noruska, I am proud to die.”* Her smile faded and Graham looked away sadly.
“I miss you, grandma.” The full sadness of her parting washed over him then, as she rubbed his back and cooed over him.
“Just remember, Gray, the books for you. Might help give you a little purpose in your life. None of this other stuff matters. It's just stuff.”
\*
“Gray mate, you ok? Fuckin’ hell, it’s been an hour. You must be well shattered mate, I didn’t want to interrupt, but I came to check on you and you’re fucking fast asleep!” He chuckled. “What’s that?” he nodded towards a book, open in Graham’s hand. As his eyes opened, he felt refreshed. He was alert, his senses keen. He looked around himself, confused, still sat in his grandma’s room.
“Uh, sorry mate. Yeah I must have...” he noticed the book. It was faded, the pages yellowing, and the black ink turning a grey-green colour over the years. “...I must have fallen asleep.”
“Well you must’ve needed that because you look absolutely miles better,” Jacob raised an eyebrow. “Well, come on dude, I told Magda I'd only be an hour.” He left the door, stairs creaking as he made his way down. “She’s gunna be so pissed already,” he called up.
Gray looked at the page. It was handwritten, same as the note on the picture. The title said ‘Ten Nights Sleep,’ and beneath was a poem, with words he’d never seen before dotted with English phrases. He flicked through, the book, more strange titles and paragraphs written like lyrics beneath them. He stopped on one page, a roughly pencilled drawing of the silver pendant. It was the lullaby, written its entirety, and there were more versus, adorned with notes and drawings. At the top, the title simply said, ‘Ward for Infant Noruska.’
“You coming mate?” Came from downstairs, accompanied by a zipping coat.
“Yeah man, for sure,” Gray stood, tucking the book under his arm. “Do you know what a Noruska is?” he asked.
Jacob leaned over the banner again, a twisted look of confusion.
“No idea mate, let's go.” | 2018-11-07T06:01:02 | 2018-11-07T05:48:09 | 33 | 19 |
[WP] Adolf Hilter fakes his own death, survives the war, and gets a job verifying the authenticity of Nazi memorabilia at a pawn shop. | "No, no, no," the old man was saying. "This is not what I am telling you. What *I* am telling you, is that this," he waved around my grandfather's knife, "is a replica."
Sales shit. Fuckin' assholes. "Dude," I said. "I found this in my grandfather's crawlspace."
He looked at me like I was an idiot. "And because your grandfather - at some point - put this shitty replica in a crawlspace, that means it's authentic? Is this what you are telling me?" Dude got angry really quickly. "Look at this metal. Look at it. How many Jews do you think this could run through before it broke?"
"I don't - wait, what?"
He blinked. "I mean, that's what they did, right? The National Socialists."
"The who? Like, the Nazis?"
"Yes," he said, rolling his eyes. "The *Nazis*. Oooh, look. The big bad Nazis are coming for all my gold and artwork."
I didn't know what to say. "So... the knife?"
He slammed it down on the counter. "Fake. I'll give you five marks - hah!" He waved a hand around somewhat effeminately. "Five marks out of ten, of course, is what I meant when I said that thing that I said. Five marks out of ten for your story. Five *dollars*, of course. For the blasphemy before me."
I put it back in my bag. "No deal, dude. It's worth more than that. I'll take it somewhere else."
"You do that. Was there any other *treasures of historical significance* in your grandfather's attic?"
I pointed at him. "Don't give me that Doofenshmirtz bullshit, dude. No, there was nothing else in there. Just a bunch of weird arcane shit."
"What?" He said. "What? Like, the dark magic?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Just skull candelabras, and a book that -"
"Was made out of human skin? Held the secrets of the universe? Will restore the true rulers of Earth?"
"I can't tell," I said slowly, "if you're taking this seriously or not. I think it's the gestures. Has anyone ever told you that you gesture a lot when you talk?"
The old man lowered his arms self-consciously. "An old habit," he said. "I'd be happy to have a look at these arcane wonders, if you bring them by."
"Thanks, dude," I said. "I appreciate that. I took a bit of a dislike to you at first, but you know what? You're OK."
He seemed pleased. "Thank you. Let me write you an appointment card. What did you say your name was?"
"Levi," I said. "Levi Rabinowitz"
"Fucking hell," the old man muttered as he scribbled my details. "You try and do *one thing* and where does it get you?" | It was another boring day at the shop. That was until another skinhead came in trying to sell me some nazi crap. He was just like all the other skinheads, fat and covered in tattoos. I hate dealing with that racist shit, but we make crazy good money from the neo nazis so the boss wants us to stay in the nazi memorabilia market.
He came up the counter and unrolled a towel filled with a few knives, about a dozen metals and helmet. It looked good to me, but I'm not the expert. I told this guy I'd have to call up my nazi expert to verify the authenticity of the stuff. I called up Al, the local nazi expert. He was in the area so he'd be there shortly. Good I can get this tool out of the shop soon. The skinheads are all super arrogant and they drive me nuts. This one was no different, he started talking about how this shit was all his grandfathers from the war and how proud he was that he was a pure aryan. As a blonde white dude he assumed I must feel the same way. I can't really disagree with him as he's a customer and the boss wants his stuff.
The skinhead was going on and on about how great it is to be aryan, all I can think of is who the hell would employ this clown. He's got nazi shit tattooed all over his arms. I chuckle to myself once I realize he wouldn't be selling his "prized possessions" if he were employable.
Al finally made it in the shop. We call him in about once a week so we're on good terms. He's a frail old dude with strangely black hair and a full beard. He's got a crazy thick German accent. It's interesting, in all the years I've known Al, he never's been willing to talk about his past. He's obviously from Germany, but any time someone brings up Germany Al just clams up and usually leaves.
I introduce Al to the skinhead Carl. Al starts looking over the items. He first inspects the knives, then the metals, finally the helmet. Al states that they're all fakes, and starts to explain how he can identify them as fakes. Carl, the skinhead shouts "Fuck you Jew, I'm not listening to your Jew lies." Collects all his stuff and storms out.
Al and I stare at each other in disbelief for a minute, then I pay Al his fee and continue with my day. | 2022-03-20T02:03:42 | 2015-12-26T13:40:14 | 1,230 | 244 |
[WP] You a retired adventurer and an elf. Your party was comprised of people of a few different races. After all of you retired, you started having reunions every few decades, always the same place, same day. You have arrived at the location and been there for hours. You realize the rest are dead. | I waited at the city square. Our stupidly large statue now dwarfs in comparison to the rest of the homes surrounding it. Gosh, how long has it been, only 60 years? Humans sure build things quickly.
I tried reading our plaque. It was rusting now. The smithy definitely didn’t cast minor protection on this, that damn scammer. I wonder if I should have a word with him. I flicked my fingers casting cleanse.
“Good as new”, I smiled. I remember humans are sentimental creatures. I flipped through my notebook to confirm. Yeah, Henry used to mention that all the time. I wonder if he'd find this a nice gesture. Ha, 10 years of adventuring really is too little time to get to know a human. Hmm now that I think about it, how old was he again?
I sat on the ledge of the statue.
My fingers stretched out, trying to count.
“Henry.. He’s human.. We’ve met around.. Uhm 5 times for the reunion? So he’d be around.. 80? Yeah that makes sense. Oh he’s pushing his species limit alright. No wonder he’s taking so long”.
The crowd of the city was thinning.
“Dova.. she’s a dwarf right.. So thats.. Hmm well she was pretty old when we met her. The best smith we ever met though. Hmm let’s see.. Around 240 maybe? Damn I don’t think she’ll make it. I should visit her instead.”
The sky was getting darker. The city lamps, brighter.
“Rover, hmm a beastman, yeah.. Th-they live longer than humans right.”
My fingers trembled as I counted one too many times. I couldn’t look away from them.
I.. no I must be doing the math wrong right.. Ha.. silly me…
My hands were illuminated with a bright light.
The sun was rising again.
“I… No.. not yet right…” | This was bound to happen. My parents had warned me,I had known it was coming. They were never coming I took a look at their perspective drinks. Ale had been Frons favorite that half ork son of a gun I would miss his music. I smiled at the light beer Traddon had been the 'devil' of are group, but the poor bookworm couldn't handle his alcohol. Meric our drawf had already been old when we had set out, he taught me things I had never known about nature, his wine jusr sat there. Oh and Lyle our little righteous one always riding into battle on his mastiff Flufle he loved his dragon whiskey.
I stumbled out of the bar 5 drinks was a lot for anyone .
"Scuce me miss. Are you Talbrought?" "That'd be me."
I was woozy but this runt looked kind of like Traddon. "I heard you knew my grandfather Traddon." "I'll be dammed. I did." He looked shy now shuffling his feet face lowered and he couldn't keep his hands in one spot. " I was hoping you'd tell me about him. Dad says adventurers are dangerous, and he wants me to have no part in it. But I... I want to hear his story. " "Sure kid, I might even teach a thing or two about a sword. If you don't tell nobody that is." I said with a wink. | 2021-07-24T00:36:11 | 2021-07-23T22:34:35 | 100 | 29 |
[WP] World War 3 has begun, every nuke is being launched or dropped...they've sat in storage for so long that every single one was a dud. | The early warning system lit up like a Christmas tree. Every agent in the room leapt to their feet. The Americans and Russians were letting everything fly, the Chinese were firing all over Asia, India and Pakistan practically blotted out the skies with their respective arsenals. Even the French got in on the mess.
The director started yelling for confirmation from all teams on the status of the their assigned assets.
A flurry of activity erupted as each team leader contacted their field agents. A cocophany of noise of phones dialing, keyboards clacking, serial numbers in every language of the globe being called out.
Within minutes the first weapons would be achieving their targets. Nobody could believe the day they had prepped for had actually come. It seemed like the world would never get this insane.
Confirmations poured in... Every warhead on the planet should be a dud. Surveillance footage filled the panels of screens in the room. Missile after missile impacting. Some slammed into empty fields. Some demolished building with the force of their impact... casualties were to be expected... but if the plan succeeded those numbers would pale beside complete nuclear war.
The screens dimmed as each warhead ended it's journey. Not one explosion. A hush came over the room. Every risky mission, every sleepless night, every dollar spent was all worth it. A nation sacrificing everything to be everyone's friends just to save the world from this day.
The only question left... how were the Canadians ever going to explain how they defused all those warheads. | "Well, this is awkward," Trump said. "I normally have the best nukes, believe me."
"Yes, Mr. President, it is indeed confusing," the North Korean translator said over speakerphone. "Our Dear Respected Leader Comrade Kim Jong Un is willing to let bygones be bygones, sir. Let us start anew as peaceful compatriots, having learned our lessons from the past."
"Listen up, you. I want you to go back and tell Rocket Man that I promised fire and fury, and you're going to get the fire and fury, and even if you've only seen the fury part so far, the fire will be tremendous, the likes of which the world has never seen before."
"Please, Mr. Trump, sir. We are in the midst of a global crisis, sir. We need to draw together as a world and address the nuclear material lying all over the world."
"My army is bigger than your army."
"Well darn it." | 2018-03-01T18:04:19 | 2018-03-01T15:51:36 | 194 | 65 |
[WP] In their society everyone is born sexless and when anyone reaches 18 they must choose which sexual organs to grow. A 17 year old is reaching their 18th birthday. | "I choose both," Michael stated calmly into the small microphone.
The committee's chatter ceased immediately as there came complete silence, the complete void of sound signifying utter confusion. The chancellor looked over to the secretary and back at his assistant, questioningly.
"Well you see, Chancellor, your honor, sir, although this has never before occurred during the sexual organ ceremony, I believe there is something in the constitution that purely states, sir, that... that one must honor the decision of a candidate who has come of age and that we must, sir, oblige... sir." Arthur wiped his forehead nervously with his monogrammed handkerchief and readjusted his glasses, while inhaling nervously.
"Arthur, do you mean to tell me, that we *must* allow for candidate-- Michael is it? Yes, Michael... that we must allow for Michael, here, to have a vagina **AND** a penis?" Chancellor Hargaroy's tone revealed a slight bit of annoyance as the line of candidates and their assigned supervisors began to erupt with audible complaints that echoed throughout the capital building. His gavel slammed down upon the wooden balcony of the rotunda with such authority that once again there was immediate silence.
"And has our executor of sexual organ assignment prepared for such a procedure, Arthur?"
"Sir, as far as I am aware, sir. Under protocol and after a preparedness meeting, he researched the required anatomical positioning of all internal organs for such an... arrangement to occur, sir. Although it's never been performed before, it *should* be possible."
"Well, there it is then. Congratulations, son... daughter... of the capital. As long as you perform your assigned tasks properly and follow whichever gender rules are permitted within that shift, you may proceed. With the strike of my gavel, step to the front of the line and toward the 'neutral' exit between the one labeled 'female' and the one labeled 'male.' It is decided!"
| "You must choose one."
His forehead blocked the ceiling light of the white room like an overbearing cloud. Bright beeping screens littered the lab.
Gray's mind's eye flicked through the figures of women and men, miring all the subtle curves and crevices. Pronounced breasts or a broad chest. A burly jaw and thick arms or a slender neck with prancing thighs. For nearly 18 years, Gray studied each sex's nuances. Their psychological ticks. Tendencies. Stature. Tone. Gray was torn.
"I-- choose-" Gray hesitated. Gray always thought that both sexes were unique and beautiful.
"I refuse to choose," Gray declared.
"*What*?" Spoke the man in the white mask that half covered his face, a metal something in hand.
"You fucking heard me you piece of shit." Gray spat into the plastic covering that blocked his eyes.
"My, my. We've got ourselves a naughty one," he smirked into a long mirror encasing the room. Gray could have sworn there was laughter emanating from the walls.
"You *must* CHOOSE!" he shot.
"Fuck you, you sick fuck," Gray dismissed him while staring blindly into the ceiling.
After a long silence, Gray noticed the man nod and affix something in his ear.
The masked man looked to the mirror as he spoke. "Patient X8089 refuses decision. Initiating procedure to terminate." | 2015-08-08T21:03:13 | 2015-08-08T20:21:04 | 37 | 16 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a golden halo over their head, lost when a lie is first told consciously. Those who manage to keep their halo are recruited as "angels" and trusted with important tasks. You, an angel recruiter, see one enter your office, but with a color you have never seen before... | Halos always radiate. No matter who has them, what shape they are in, what color they shine. The only rule is radiance. From shining roman wreaths and latin sunbursts, from dark smokey rays to shining auras. Even the horn-halos of those rare and powerful demons who've managed to never lie, radiate and shine with their dark power.
You have to watch out for those demons. They few who know that the truth can hold more terrifying power than any lie could. "Technically the truth," may be a lie by omission, but the rules are strict. The lie must be "told."
But before you stands no demon. No angel like you've ever seen either, though there is unmistakably a halo above this being's head. It is dull, wooden almost. It hangs waveringly over platinum blonde hair and bemused blue eyes. It's like no halo you've ever heard of. And halos are your area of expertise.
Hesitantly, you venture a question. "May I help you?"
Those blue eyes stare at you, and the grey and lifeless halo trembles in agitation. But there is no response beyond a slight shift in posture.
"This is really quite unusual," you mutter. "Really quite unnerving. What kind of human could bring about a halo like that."
That gets a response. In a voice as dull as the halo above, the angel speaks. "No human," the angel says. "I am no human."
"Then what are you?" you ask.
"I am what you humans call..." the being stops, and seems to think for awhile. After a moment, it opens it's mouth again. "Artificial Intelligence." | “Sir?” asked as he sauntered into the room, glowing red on his black suit. He then stopped at the gilded desk and mulled over the intricately jeweled ceiling.
“Too much gold for one room don’t you think,” he mumbled.
“Hello sir how may I help you,” I asked trying not to stare at the burning halo above him.
He snapped his head towards me and sternly replied “The head of the head angel.”
Suddenly he stepped back and flicked his wrist revealing a burning red sword. The alarms went off, shutting the gates to every exit. The man stared at the iron bars in bemusement.
“Scared are yah,” taunting the ceiling. He then stood in front of the gate between the room and the next hall. Swing his sword in a arc, the sword released two blasts of burning red light, tearing the gates into pieces.
“Come here,” he bellowed “you filthy dogs!” as he ran into the hall.
And I never saw him again, because I ran away. I ran so far away. I didn’t need to know what would happen nor was it hard to find out when my halo crumbled to dust, and everyone else’s glowed red. | 2018-10-04T02:26:28 | 2018-10-03T22:22:41 | 33 | 10 |
[WP] Super powers are common, but super heroes are rare. It turns out most people don't actually want to face death or dismemberment on a daily basis, including you. You enjoy the 9-5 and having a 401k, but my god that government recruiter won't take no for an answer. | The agent had an air of confidence around him that John recognized. The kind of confidence that someone had when they thought they stood at a good bargaining position. But John would not waver.
"You would be a legend, you know that?" the agent said.
"I'm not interested in the glory. That's why I didn't do this as a teenager." John replied, still humoring the man across from him at the diner. He had just wanted a bite to eat before work, and didn't feel like making something before he left. But then this government agent had sat down with him, as if they were old friends who ran into each other by chance.
"Then what about the money? You will be compensated well. Much better than your current position."
"It's not about the money. It's about the security. It's knowing that I have the same thing waiting for me at work every day, and knowing that every day I will get home at the same time as my wife." John was annoyed. But this wasn't the first time he had been ambushed by a recruiter, and he was not surprised by any of this.
"We can be flexible with the schedule." The agent persisted.
"It's not about the schedule. My current job doesn't endanger my family. There is a zero percent chance that my family gets hurt in my line of work, and an almost zero percent chance that I will get hurt." John said calmly, as if he had rehearsed this speech.
"You're basically invulnerable, there is little chance that you will be hurt in this line of work, too."
"I know that, but were you even listening? I said my family has no chance of being hurt in my line of work now."
The agent still spoke with that consistent confidence. "We can protect your family."
"No, you can't. Someone always comes for them."
"You can have a secret identity. No one will know who your family is."
"Secret identities leak."
"John, it's not like the old days. Security is much better now than it used to be."
John shook his head. Was this guy an idiot? Did he really just call a time a decade ago 'the old days?' He stopped to take a drink of water, and let the agent stew for a moment.
"Villains are always finding new ways to hurt people. I don't believe they will be safe forever."
"That's why we need you. It's your responsibility to protect the weak."
John sighed. His patience was wearing thin. "No, it is *your* responsibility. You're the government. It's your purpose to protect people."
The agent did not have a slick comeback for this one, instead he shifted gears. Good cop was seemingly gone, and they didn't even bother bringing in a new guy to play Bad Cop.
"John, you seem to like your wife. Is she the only thing keeping you from this line of work?"
John shifted gears immediately. The agent had made a mistake, and he was not going to let the moment pass.
"Do you remember Black Dagger?"
The agent's eyes sparked with realization. Black Dagger had been a professional villain organization, responsible for some very high-profile scores over the years, and they were notorious for their aggressive hiring techniques.
One day, police responded to a homicide call at an abandoned warehouse. Inside was the entire upper echelon of Black Dagger, and they were all dead. Bodyguards, the big bosses, even some supervillains. All killed, except for their Kidnapping Logistics Manager, who was tortured to the point of being mangled, and he probably still wishes he died like all the others. And the government never found out who was responsible for taking the organization down.
John saw the gears turning in the agent's head. He pushed the matter, lowering his voice so that no one else could hear him but the agent. Now it was his turn to be confident.
"I give everyone one chance to walk away. You just threatened my wife. If you even hint about it again, I will slay you and your entire cohort of worker bees. Do you understand?"
The agent spoke again, but this time the confident tone was gone. Replaced was a monotone voice, with a subtle hint of fear breaking through to the surface. "Yes. But you must understand that it is my job to get you to work for us."
"And it is my right to say no."
"I know."
"Then give me your business card, and you can tell your boss that you tried." | Our office building was kept cold, even colder because of the clientele we worked with. I was in the ice room, which is exactly what it sounded like, a room with a comically huge block of ice. Parts of it were melting and I clapped my hands together to freeze the water that had pooled.
The water turned to ice and I clapped my hands together again to add additional layers of ice to the block. The exhaust vents kicked onto life, transferring the cold of the room throughout the building. I locked the door and called out to the front.
“Jimmy,” I said. “I stocked up the berg so we should be good through the weekend!”
Jimmy was dressed in winter clothes and threw up a shaka sign.
“I didn’t know you were chill like that,” he said, laughing as he did.
“Don’t make me regret working here, Jimmy.” I replied.
“But Tae, my guy,” he said. “Look at how happy you’re making our clients.”
An army of winter dogs - huskies, saint bernards, great pyrenees, newfoundlands, all the dogs enjoying their time in the snow we created here. Our clients’ owners dropped them off here at the Inside Scoop, a once dying doggie daycare. The summers were rough in southern California and I helped keep our prices low.
“They do look pretty happy,” I replied.
Next to each dog was a copy of Jimmy, each copy was playing, cleaning, or sleeping right beside one of the hounds. I looked at each of the clones and I saw one that wasn’t at all Jimmy, but a man in a suit. He’d appeared out of nowhere, he was sitting on a pile of snow.
“Jimmy,” I said and pointed.
“The cheese is here, huh?” Jimmy said.
The man reappeared in front of us. On his suit was a pin, an American Flag being held up by an Atlas-esque figure. It meant he worked with supers, capes, superheroes.
“Have you reconsidered our offer, Cold Snap?” the man asked, looking me in the eyes.
“Please don’t call me that,” I said. “Why do you guys even try to give us supe names? Has that really convinced anyone to take the job? Risk their lives?”
“Why don’t you ask Man’s Best Friend here?” the agent said.
Jimmy’s government mandated superhero name was Man’s Best Friend, he could only make clones if they were in the immediate vicinity of a dog. He’d done a stint working with drug and bomb dogs for a few years, but he left as soon as his contract was over.
“It is a good name,” Jimmy said.
The agent looked satisfied with his response.
“It’s not for me,” I replied. “Sorry. I’m on my way out. I’ll see you on Monday, Jimmy.”
“See ya, Tae.” Jimmy said.
I walked out the building into the blistering heat of southern California and the agent reappeared in front of my car, manila envelope in hand.
“What’ll it take to convince you?” the agent asked.
I thought about it, I thought about Jimmy’s stories, my parents and my grandparents’ stories about the war. The sloppiness of the deaths when powers were involved. My grandpa’s right arm was missing, not because of any enemies, but because he was training his troops how to use their own powers.
“Yeah it hurt,” my grandpa told me when I first asked him about it. “But it’s nothing compared to how Kenny felt when he saw what he’d done to me. Kid never learned to control his powers and my arm wasn’t the only thing he ended up cutting off.”
I never asked him to clarify what he meant by that, I never again asked him about the war.
“Nothing will convince me,” I replied.
---
I enjoyed this prompt thoroughly, thanks!
If anyone wants to read future prompts I respond to, I'm going to start posting more of them to r/deneilyeong. | 2022-07-31T12:29:02 | 2022-07-31T10:18:23 | 1,657 | 313 |
[WP] For your honeymoon, you finally go to that place you've always dreamed of going. Walking down the street, you see a telephone pole covered in old, moldy papers. The newer ones have fallen away, revealing an ancient, faded flyer - it's a picture of you as a child. It says MISSING. | “Please keep your seatbelts buckled until the lights go off, and thank you for flying with Delta!” the blonde flight attendant spoke cheerfully while walking through the plane aisle, “and remember you’re more likely to die in a car accident than on a plane!”
I hear a child cry.
Dying is not scary... we've been preparing for it our whole lives. Dying was something I always dreamed about, it has haunted me my whole life growing up- I mean it never really bothered me, that just seems like the right word.
It was always dreams of me as a child running through streets, away from a family being murdered. Some man grabbing me and telling me to be quiet, hiding me in an ally. I always awoke to my mother sitting in bed next to me, telling me that everything was going to be okay. It never felt that way.
I now just wake from the dreams that have carried me through life peacefully, accepting the forever reoccurring scene. Even this morning on my wedding day, I awoke well before my alarm, clutching the sheets as I did the man’s sleeves that have saved me endlessly.
I’m brought back to the present as the plane lurches and my husband clutches my leg as we take off. I watch the light bounce off his new ring I placed on his fingers only hours ago, smiling at his tense face.
“You’ve flown how many times?” I whisper to his ear. He looks past me out the window, clutching my leg but brushing his thumb along my knee. I push my forehead against the plane window and watch the world soar away from us.
Once we are steady in the air and I have blood flow back to my knee, I recline my chair and enjoy the hum of the machine around me. My husband reclines his chair and turns his body towards me, his almond eyes peer at me over the chair divider and his foot touches mine. He blows me a kiss and drifts off to sleep.
I think about the beaches we are going to spend weeks on and the tiny town villages I’ll be able to hide in and write for hours about the people traveling through their lives. I found the town of Fernon while flipping through an artist magazine; The images hit me so deeply I begged for weeks to make it our destination. I won.
I drift to sleep, allowing the hum of the plane lull me to sleep. I’m thrown into my dream watching my house become invaded as the sandwich, my dream mother puts in front of me, is thrown out of her hands and she is grabbed.
I hear the echoes of my dream father's bellows, screaming at me to run.
I run away from the men chasing me, being grabbed on cue by the safety of another man’s sleeves as he shushes me in the dark alley. I close my eyes, expecting me to open my eyes and awake to the plane. Instead, I open my eyes and the dream continues further than it has in years.
We run through alleys and jump into a truck, the man’s voice wrapping me in solitude. I am terrified as and I look to finally see his face, his deep skin isolating his piercing blue eyes that almost appear white. He shoves papers in a bag and throws a shirt over my tiny, childish body. Grabbing scissors he begins chopping my hair in clumps as I let silent sobs escape my soul as we travel in the dark. He puts a hat on my head, and then gently wipes the tears away from my face.
“I’m making sure you’ll be safe,” he whispers to me.
I feel a hand touching my face and I open my eyes to be matched with dark almond ones, wiping a tear off my round cheek.
“You’re safe,” he whispers to me. I move my foot to touch his. I move my reclined seat up, watching the sun peak over the ocean we soar above.
The seatbelt lights ding on overhead, and we are notified of our fast approaching landing time.
I hear a child cry.
--
I watch the coffee's steam rise out of the mug from the coffee shop we sit outside of. My husband’s loosely buttoned white shirt flaps in the light breeze as he flips through a book. I tap my pencil against my leg as I look at the empty page of my journal and smile at the day we had yet again spent at the beach.
A breeze rips through the little village alley and flyers off a nearby pole start rolling down the street. My sun hat flies with the papers and I leap up trying to grab it. I pick up the papers as I grab my hat and begin walking back to the table. I slowly stop walking, for I can’t feel my feet anymore.
I can’t feel anything at all. I stand frozen in the beautiful, quaint alley, allowing the wind to yet again rip my hat from my head. I let it roll down the street.
I look up to see my husband walking up to me, reaching for the paper in my hands. I can’t hear his words, only comprehend that he too, understands the missing child pictured on the flyer. I can’t hear the wind. I just hear the echoes of a man's bellows.
I look over my husband’s shoulder meeting the piercing almost white eyes of an old man, wrinkles on his deep skin dating him older than I can count, who had frozen mid sip of coffee. | There's a place down by the riverfront at St. Genevieve's called the Olde Landing where time hasn't moved since the 1850s. Horses clip-clop across endless expanses of cobblestone, pulling bulbous carriages that persist even past midnight. Men in stovepipe hats and women in long skirts smoke pipes outside thatched houses, shooing rowdy children away from their legs. Vendors with grey beards push carts through the streets, peddling their taffy for pittance. It's a town that captures the aesthetic of the Victorian era without all its moral baggage, a land of novelty amidst the modern monotone of endless highways and strip malls.
When I was five, Dad would place me on his lap and let me chew on his pipe. He would tell me stories from the Olde Landing, describing the haunts and their kooks. Ludwig manned the tavern and could play the piano blindfolded. Gertrude kept the Landing crime-free with her detective's wits. Vernon smithed full suits of armor in his workshop by the river. Dad would promise to take me there when I was older, to meet all his friends and tell them "tut-tut". But we moved across the state when I was eight, and he stopped talking about the Olde Landing, and my dreams faded into forgetfulness.
It took Sheila to drag me back there, back to St. Gen's and the home I had forgotten. We left everything in our hotel and wandered the old streets, unhindered and unabashed, eventually making our way to the river. There, beyond a stretch of trees, I saw it: a glimpse of cobblestone and a promise of magic.
"What a quaint place," she said. To a girl from the city, everything in St. Gen's was quaint. But to me, the place was less than I'd imagined. The cobblestone stretched everywhere, just as promised, but that was all that coincided with my vision. "Old Landing," the sign read, a white mark where the "e" had once been. Bramble and weeds overran the side closest to the river. Orange tape sequestered a large, brown plot in the southmost corner. A sidewalk led us further in to a series of buildings on a strip: a bar, a souvenir shop, and a Burger King.
A horse trotted up to us, pulling an open carriage manned by a guy in a goatee. "Ride?" he asked.
"Sure," I said, mounting the step.
"Forty bucks," he said, without missing a beat. He rolled his eyes as we declined and spurred his steed on, clip-clopping away.
We walked past the buildings. The bar was undergoing renovations, the souvenir shop closed, and the Burger King, Burger King. Sheila rubbed my arm, reassuring me how nice and old everything was. She could sense my disappointment.
A telephone pole interrupted the brick as we crested the top of the road. There were flyers tacked all down its length: "Participants needed for psychological study", "HELP WANTED: Summer Janitor", "Need litigation? Call Albright!"
One stood out from the rest, though, one old, yellowed, barely-there scrap of paper that clung tenaciously to a rusted nail even in the face of a slight breeze. There was a face on it, and I recognized it with a jolt. It was James Salmon at five years old, with his chubby cheeks and his bowl cut. MISSING, screamed the text. That was all it said: no phone number, no physical information, no reward. Just my smiling face from twenty year's past in grayscale.
"James, what's up?" Sheila peered at the flyer. "Do you know this guy?"
"Maybe," I said. Maybe once I did, but he's gone now; he's MISSING, and he'll never come back. He's gone with Ludwig and Gertrude and Vernon and Dad and the Wonderland of his youth.
The clouds blotted out the sun. The wind whisked through the town, sending stray leaves our way. Sheila shivered and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. The clip-clops of goatee and his horse had abated. We were alone.
I took Sheila's hand, and we walked back down to the three buildings on the stretch. The door of the bar opened as I leaned on it. The wood creaked under our footsteps; through the dimness, we could perceive outlines of tables and chairs and a piano that a man named Ludwig or something else might have played on once.
"Sheila, I love you," I said, nibbling on her ear. She kissed me back, and we climbed onto the piano, and she lifted up her skirt.
Outside, the wind howls, tearing the poster of five-year-old James Salmon from the pole. The breeze carries it away, towards the river.
MISSING, it reads. The child is missing, and nobody will find him. | 2016-10-25T19:30:45 | 2016-10-25T14:29:43 | 147 | 28 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a special talent that's weak when young, but grows stronger and matures at the age of 30. A kid that's a little stronger than his peers will grow up to lift mountains. Another who like tinkering will revolutionize civil action. You? Well, cats just seem to like you...
*civilizations
Edit: WP was more popular than I though. Reading through the stories delayed because I'm traveling. Keep them coming I'm loving them! | Should I ask him to repeat himself?
Is that rude?
I can't exactly be at fault for not listening too well. I wasn't exactly expecting... well... words...
"Did you get all that Steven?"
Oh wow, ok yeah he definitely spoke and I completely missed it.
"Will you do it?"
I stared blankly at Jasper who was sitting over a coffee table in my living room surrounded by every single cat in the neighborhood. I scanned the cats from left to right.
Snowball belonged to Ms. Cassandra from across the street, I gave him left overs from my sandwich on my way back from school whenever I could.
Smudge was a stray cat who followed me home often and, despite the warnings from my mother, would always be friendly with me.
Tiger was Randy's cat. He would always got jealous cause the cat would only be at ease around me. I'd hear stories of clawed out curtains, and scratched fingers, but he would always comfortably purr on my lap when I came over.
This was only to name a few.
I never thought much of it. I like cats, and cats like me back. But on this day the words coming out of that furry, toothy mouth revealed to me that this was indeed my special talent.
Well not the words themselves, more like the action of the words coming out. And subsequently my understanding of those words...
More than the sheer surprise of hearing my pet talk, I was shaken to my core in pure disappointment. Others usually got super strength... or flight... or mind reading... I guess I got... cat likeness? Wait until the others hear about this?
But oh well, gotta make the most of it.
I looked at Jasper who I could tell was beginning to get worried.
(Wait can cats look visibly worried? Must've been the talent.)
"Actually... umm... if you don't mind... could you just repeat that last part one more time?" I said to Jasper, hoping to not be offensive in anyway.
"Of course Steven!"
"We're all here because we all feel a sort of connection with you. We understand you as much as you understand us. And to any feline with half a brain it'd be plain to see that you should be the one to lead us!"
A resounding 'meow' reverberated across my room, like an adorable war cry that struggled to be taken seriously.
But the 'meow' kept going, bouncing onto my ears over and over, and suddenly the cry took the shape of words.
"Praise the Great one Steven! Praise the Great one Steven!"
Just then my front door slid open. I braced myself for the stellar and totally reasonable conversation I was about to have with whoever opened it.
That's when I saw a massive paw slam into the room, followed by another, then another until the figure entering the room was entirely revealed.
"Praise the Great one Steven!" bellowed the great lion with a mighty roar, both completely shattering my reputation with my neighbors, and my center of balance and mind.
I fell onto the floor with eyes open so wide, you'd think I was a cat hunting at night.
I looked up at the ceiling with a complete utter lack of words. Not only did the cats have my tongue, they had torn it to shreds.
Eventually I gathered enough strength to lay out a single word.
"Huh..."
I believe it was profound.
EDIT: Oh wow! That's way more upvotes than I expected! This is my first time writing anything in writingprompts so I thought I'd give it a shot! Thanks to everyone who commented, and I'm open to any criticism! | ---
Köttur, age 9
---
Anne stood and watched the children play. Her favorite part of the day was observing children create their own worlds. A group of boys and girls were fighting a monster only they could see, on a ship only they could control. Others were jumping rope, and still others were drawing with chalk. Every child in her 4th grade class was engaged. Except Köttur.
The boy sat at a distance, against a tree, four cats curled up around him. He, too, watched the children play. It wasn't with interest, Anne noticed. Köttur seemed... suspicious.
He made Anne uneasy.
---
köttur, age 16
---
Köttur had been to Botswana many times before. His adoptive parents were missionaries. He loved it here. The raw wild called to him, even after he had arrived.
The buggy he was driving jostled him as it took each bump and dip in the gravely dirt road. He was speeding, but there were no limits. He had quickly learned that the general rule was to go as fast as you could without hurting yourself or others. And that seemed to be more a suggestion, and less a rule.
He was fast approaching the small village he had known as a boy, traveling with his parents. It was here he had met Mabadiliko, a mystic and village seer who had resisted his parents' message. Ultimately, the village had adopted Christianity, but throughout the years it blended with their local traditions into something unrecognizable. It was Mabadiliko that helped Köttur recognize the Gift.
The dirt road protested his speed with a gentle haze of dust. Through it, Köttur could see farmers rise from their fields, one hand over their eyes to shield the sun, staring in his direction. The villagers hated him, and he could feel their disdain as he raced toward the town center. Their hatred fueled him; his anger bringing a sickening joy. Köttur grinned.
The haze of dust behind him was moving, convulsing. Shadows danced among the fog, causing the villagers to turn and run toward their homes, grabbing children and calling to one another.
A watchman on a tower yelled as Köttur approached. Through the smoky dust, the glowing eyes of leopards could be seen as they sprinted alongside.
---
köttur, age 29
---
Köttur stood on a hill, overlooking the Gauteng capital city of Johannesburg. The last decade had seen him chased across the globe. He had briefly made Interpol's top 5 list. The people of the world grew wary of his Gift. He no longer had a home.
Until today.
Köttur raised his powerful arm, his blonde hair shining in the sunlight. He waited a moment, watching the serenity below him. He closed his eyes, fist still high in the air, a soft breeze enveloping him. It was time.
His piercing blue eyes snapped open. In one motion, he lowered his arm and knelt on one knee. He closed his eyes again.
The soft breeze built to a rushing gust of wind as thousands of jungle cats swarmed on the unsuspecting city below. | 2016-12-30T08:57:01 | 2016-12-30T08:38:21 | 2,633 | 230 |
[WP] A global arms race gets out of control and every country's only option for survival is walling themselves off with impenetrable defensive technology. Millions of years pass before a catastrophic event brings down all the walls, revealing how humans evolved in isolation. | After twenty-five days of shaking, the walls finally collapse, and the villagers watch in horror as the massive machine stomps toward them before falling apart, smashing into the ground and catching fire. They hide, expecting another—but it never comes. For now, they’re safe.
They knew this day was coming, always trusted that the man. Years ago, when the world descended into chaos, he gathered people from all over, people he believed to be “pure-hearted,” and formed them into a village. *You’re the future,* he said. *While everyone seeks bloodshed, you desire peace. Are willing to die for it. Stay true to this, and one day you’ll emerge from the ashes of the world and teach it to all.*
He protected the village, building towering walls around it. Now, for the first time, they’re leaving, seeing a destruction their ancestors knew and feared all too well. They’ve prepared for this their entire lives.
One country caved in on itself, people growing bored and battling each other. Another was infatuated with biological weapons and tested them on their own citizens, wiping them all out.
The final one’s the most terrifying, for it’s been overrun by massive machines like the one that destroyed their walls. As they watch them, they ignore the urge to gather weapons, to fight. This is their last great challenge, for now that they’ve seen the horrors of the world, they must do their best not to succumb to them.
*You must stay peaceful,* the man had said. *You must stay true to yourselves.*
And they will, they must.
For humanity.
***
Hope this is good! Tried to do something a bit different. Loved this prompt. If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) | The solar flairs came without warning. When the walls started falling, the world fell into mass panic. Nations readied their defenses. Bombs and guns, things the world hadn't seen in years. Instead of war, though, something miraculous happened. Due to the endless years of isolation, humans had....changed. Some nations, like the USA and Europe had technology that had made them godlike. Nations like Russia had made claims saying they had colonized the entire solar system, but nobody knew for sure. Poor nations seemed more divided then ever, countless factions in the ruins of what once was Africa, starvation was very common for the Chinese, oddly enough. When the people of the world finally sat down to have a global meeting, they learned that new languages had emerged. Many were beyond the comprehension of others. Then, when trading started again, technology once thought the realms of science fiction were right at our finger tips. Less fortunate nations quickly adapted to the changes, but it always seemed like they could never keep up. Soon, space exploration started again and it was revealed that Russia had been lying about their space program, for they had only reached as far as Mars. Soon balance was restored to the Earth, and people continued their lives like the walls had never been dropped. (*PLEASE GO EASY ON ME. THIS IS MY FIRST WRITING PROMPT AND IM ON MOBILE.) | 2018-11-18T09:23:36 | 2018-11-18T09:22:18 | 131 | 27 |
[WP] You blow a flat tire while driving through the middle of nowhere in a foreign country. After a brief call with the rental company they inform you there is a jack in the trunk of the car. When you go to open the trunk a man pops out and greets you, his name is Jack. | "Yup, looks like you got yourself a flat, huh?" He ran the length of his arm across his nose, snorting loudly. He kneeled down next to the tire and pulled shaggy hair away from his eyes to get a better look.
"I'm assumin' you got something to pull out the bolts from the tire, right?" he asked without looking back to me.
I was still standing in front of the truck, my mouth agape looking at the man who just crawled out of a trunk that hadn't been opened in at least thirty hours. I was making a trip across the state and was sleeping in the car for the past day. Where had this guy been? Where had he been going to the bathroom?
"Hey there, you doin' all right? The flat shouldn't be too much of an inconvenience, you'll get goin' in no time," he said wiping away a glob of sweat that had accumulated on his forehead. His returned as quick as he wiped it away.
"Uhhh... yeah," I stammered. "How are you--"
"Gonna help you out? I'm the car Jack. I'm gonna hold up the car, obviously. You don't need to worry about how long it'll take, I can do it for however long you need," he said, grinning a crooked, but sincere grin. I was going to ask how he was alive, not how he was going to help, but I guess he looked healthy enough. His arms did not look like they could hold up the weight of my car, though.
"I'm sorry, I'm still trying to understand this... You've been in my car for how long?" I asked.
"How long have you had the car?" he asked, sweat rolling off his face. He tried, fruitlessly, to wipe more off his forehead.
"Two years, but--"
"I've been in there for two years," he pointed to the trunk, a powerful smell emanating from his raised arm.
"No, that's impossible, there's no way you could be in there for that long. Why are you in my car?"
"I'm the car Jack," he repeated as if it was an obvious answer.
"No, I mean are you homeless or something? When did you sneak in--" he stopped me by rolling under my car and lifting it up with apparent ease. I took a step back, afraid he was going to drop it on himself, but he kept it at arm's length, waiting patiently.
"You got a spare, I know that much. I've been cramped up with it for a long time," he said, matter-of-factly.
I looked down at the open trunk and saw the tire he was referring to. Next to it was a puddle of either sweat or urine, and a handful of granola bar wrappers. I pulled out the tire and rolled it over to my flat. Jack was unscrewing the bolts with his bare hand.
"How are you..?" I said, more to myself than to him.
"Oh, the bolt thing? I'm kind of a Jack of all trades. I can do the whole job if you wanna wait in the car," he offered. I nodded, numbly, not able to compute any more of the conversation nor the situation laying itself out before me. As soon as I closed the door, I felt the car rocking a few times before finally being set down on a new wheel. Jack stood up, smiling affably, sweat slipping off his chin. He nodded once and made his way to the trunk where he put the flat tire in, then crawled in after it. Before the trunk closed, I heard,
"Don't forget to replace this tire with a good one before you get another flat. I use it as a pillow, so if it's too soft, my sleep is all Jacked up."
The trunk closed, and I was left in the stunned silence of my car.
_______________________________
For more stories, come and check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! | "Hi there!" out came a voice as Ellis popped open the boot.
"... What the–"
"I'm Jack. Not jack as in the thing you use to raise the car, but Jack as in a person. Don't worry, I can help you out," the strange man, claiming to be 'Jack' said as he climbed out of the boot.
Ellis reflexively leaped back and took a stick from the ground. She held the stick like a knight would with a sword. Of course this course of action was only natural for a 20-year old woman being approached by a strange man in a strange land, alone. Sensing Ellis' overt guard, Jack took out a strange device. The device was all glass and had a few pictures on it. He then openly displayed it to Ellis so that she could get a better view.
"This here device is a universal remote control, I can control *almost* anything with this," Jack explained whilst waving the device, "observe!"
*Almost, huh?* Ellis thought at the ominous word.
With a point-and-click, the car was suddenly raised a good 30 cm above the ground. Ellis could not help but stared at the bizarre phenomenon with her mouth opened wide.
"W-What is this? Are you fucking with me?" Ellis asked.
"Fu... No! I'm simply trying to show that you can depend on me to help you out. I can control *almost* anything!"
"You've been saying that twice now – the word *almost*. Why? I thought a universal controller is supposed to be *universal*–"
Jack stepped forward and Ellis immediately raised her stick whilst shaking her head as if saying, 'not a step closer, na-ah!'
As Jack picked up on the signal, he smiled and said, "oh, sorry! Didn't mean to startle you. Well, I can control things – move them, manipulate their sizes, change colours, etc. – but... as an employee of the rental company, I can't do all those things to *you* or whatever you're holding."
He demonstrated this by showing her the option on his device which said 'destroy' and pointed towards her and her stick. At first, she was about to lunged forth to strike first at him before he could presumably harm her. But when he clicked on the option, there was a resounding buzzing sound and red alert screen coming from the device. She relaxed for a minute though at this point she just wanted to run away. The excitement from seeing a strange man coming out of the boot – not to mention the thought of him being there *all along* – and the still floating car was too much for her to handle.
*I better get some goddamn drink soon or Imma pounce on this damn man! A vodka would be nice right now, yeah...*
"I see... Well, here ya go!" Jack suddenly said and he clicked his device.
"H-Huh?!"
Ellis was stunned when out of nowhere a bottle of vodka had appeared in front of her.
"Oh, don't worry about that! I got you covered, but may I recommend drinking that later once we arrived at your hotel?" Jack said as he picked up the bottle and brandished a smile.
"Just... Just what are you?" Ellis said as she dropped the stick unintentionally.
"I'm an employee of the rental company, Jack! I'm here to help you–"
"Yeah, sure. Just change the goddamn tire and go back in the boot, mate." | 2019-07-08T23:32:39 | 2019-07-08T23:30:35 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second... | It was 11:59 and while the whole family gathered around, my mother was no where to be seen. I expected that she would have joined us. After all, she'd been there for my older sister's reveal, and my brother's reveal. But instead she was watering the garden while it rained steadily.
C'mon, mom, I know I'm not your favorite, but you could at least put on a front this time.
"It's noon!" my sister squealed. "Pullupyoursleeve!"
A moment of dread shot through me. I can't say that I knew exactly what was wrong, but I knew that something wasn't right. There was no tingling in my arm, just a feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me something was going to be revealed today and I wasn't going to like it.
I pulled up my sleeve and no words appeared. Frantically, I pulled up the other sleeve, shoving it all the way up to my armpit. It had to be there. My sister tugged my shirt up, peeking under it. Not that the words ever appeared anywhere besides on your dominant forearm. "Where is it?"
"He won't get it yet," my mother barked from the sliding glass door. "He's not going to be 18 for another two months."
"What?" I yelped. "Today's my birthday!" My sister's hands fell and my shirt slid back down into place.
My mother shook her head. "You're father and I were separated, and I met a man..." she said quietly, her round eyes darting towards my father.
"You said the baby was mine! You said he was just early!" my father shouted.
She crumpled into a chair, her wet hair dripping onto her face. Her mouth wobbled and she stared at the floor. "He's not and he wasn't."
Two months and three days later, my parents' marriage was in shambles, and I walked into my sister's room, pulled up my sleeve, and showed her the words that had appeared the day before. "MARRIAGE COUNSELOR"
| 11:55, 19 August 2017
My family sat around the couches in the living room, making small talk about their own Destiny. Something about how no one was surprised when my father, sister and brother all got "Doctor" stamped on their forearm in crisp, Arial font. I despised it. The idea of sitting in a stale room in a stale hospital in a stale existence made my stomach churn. I drowned out their voices. *"Musician. Musician."* i repeated in my head, as if the mere act of thinking it would bring it to reality.
Since i was 3 i had had a passion for music, learning my sister's pieces by ear. Eventually i moved on from classical piano to drums and later the electric bass - my one true love. I could think of nothing i would rather do for the rest of my life than playing live shows and creating and pushing the boundaries of music. *"Musician. Musician."*
11:59, 19 August 2017
By this time everyone had gone quiet. The silence was now deafening. "Musician. Musician." I began to sweat. This. This one moment - a single instant could determine the course of my life. But would it really have to? I mean, surely i had the freedom to choose my own path regardless of some stupid tattoo, right? ...right? *"Musician. Musician. MUSICIAN."*
12:00, 19 August 2027
*"MUSI-"*
"Doctor Lee? Your 12 o'clock is here. Should i buzz her in?"
"Buzz her in."
Stale. But it can't be helped; can it? | 2017-03-16T03:19:48 | 2017-03-16T02:42:03 | 129 | 32 |
[WP] You’ve been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You think you have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. You’re up next. | Despite what my old professor would have said, I wouldn't necessarily call myself a clever man. I've always been content to simply watch the world go round, spending my time working on various little projects, tinkering with magical trinkets and what not. Didn't really believe in any cause enough to stick my neck out or make a name for myself. Still, I did what I needed to do and spent my days studying away, slowly building up a group of fellow researchers in this little library of ours. Nothing too elaborate, we assumed that no one would come to bother us while we did our work.
And yet here I am. Standing in line with a dozen other folk, men, women and even a child. All sentenced to an immediate execution by the Arcane Magistrate. From the sounds of their judgement, we were all in the wrong place at the wrong time. It seems that part of this building was being used by a group of abolitionists who were in the middle of plotting out some rather heinous... incidents. Honestly these Arcane bastards deserved it but considering the might of their magical voodoo or whatever they almost never sufferers any consequences. Still, I suppose the threat of it was enough to prompt our demise.
I watched as the man in front of me, one of the abolitionists, tried to pull off some clever little trick about dying of old age. Not the worst idea, but the Magistrate had been doing this kind of work for some time. The "immediate" part of the punishment made for a rather gruesome spectacle, given a rather impressive display of just how much a human can change over the course of a lifetime. Once they had cleared out the poor bastard and his now impressive volume of hair I stepped forward to take my turn.
"Mr. Greyhawk."
I grimaced at that. Technically I had never gotten any sort of doctorate. Still I suppose now was not the time to be worried about that sort of thing.
"You have been charged with aiding an abolitionist group, both by providing a base of operations as well as access to blueprints and textbooks describing the means to create magical weapons. For this you have been sentenced to death by execution. You may now decide your fate."
Ah, that would explain the immediate death sentence. I had wondered why they took such an extreme measure, though I personally wouldn't describe all the texts as being recipes for magical weaponry. Although with a little tweak or two I suppose you could make something nasty with a few brewed up potions and a teleportation device.
I looked up at the Magistrate, all so confident in themselves and their many decades or centuries of judging and condemnation. All of them leaders in their own magic fields, Abjuration, Alteration, Conjuration, Enchanting and even Chronomancy. Time to see how they'd react to something a little... different. I cleared my throat.
"If I may ask, my wish is to die by a certain potion. As you have probably noted I and the other researchers were quite familiar with potion craft but in our years there were a few we were never able to make. The one I am thinking of in particular requires some choice ingredients and a period of 3 days to brew. Would this still be acceptable?"
They took a moment and glanced about themselves, murmuring until they came to a conclusion. The first one spoke again.
"What would we need to create this potion?"
"As a matter of fact, I jotted down a list of ingredients for this very thing!"
I puled the paper out and extended my hand towards them. One of them lifted it up and glanced at it. Then he frowned. By the end of the list he looked rather confused and disgusted, emotions I hadn't seen from them yet.
"Rest assured, the potion I wrote down is going to kill me and only me." Which wasn't even a lie, not that I would have been able to even if I wanted thanks to the magical zone around us. The one who grabbed the list began speaking.
"I'll be frank, this is quite the strange potion. Wyvern blood, manticore venom, belladonna, arsenic, a crushed unicorn horn and... brewed in a human heart for three days? What in the Hells made you decide to make something like this!?"
I smiled up at them, a sheepish grin. "I wanted to see your reaction to an unusual request. So, could you make it?"
Another round of mumbling and grumbling from the Magistrate. Finally one of their number motioned for an associate to step forward, then move into another room. He came out carrying a handful of objects, the potions ingredients. Honestly impressive, they were probably the only group around that had access to this sort of thing on a whim.
A second associate walked over to one of the bodies that lay on the ground, a former researcher who had asked to have his heart promptly and painlessly removed. A quick death, and hopefully as painless as they promised.
Working together the associates began mixing the ingredients together and poured them into the heart. Finally the chronomancer worked a spell overtop the potion, speeding up its process in a blur of motion. It was ready.
"Wonderful!" I exclaimed, noting the lovely purple glow now emanating from the heart that was dyed a blackish colour. "Now that looks like a delightful way to go out."
I reached out my hand to take the heart. Heavier than I had originally expected but still nothing I couldn't down. With a last look up at the Magistrate I raised my hand up in a toast, then drank the whole thing.
It took a moment to kick in, allowing me to savour the expressions of the court. The faces of disgust, those judgmental glares and the bored tones of officials wanting to get on with the day. My body spasmed as the drought burned its way down into my stomach, a mix of painful ecstasy and flaming ice. Still I made sure to keep my eyes focused on the Magistrate even as my vision began to cloud. I wanted to remember those faces.
I imagine I'd be seeing them again soon enough. After all, they had only cleared out the areas that had been marked on the floor plan and nothing beneath that. They certainly wouldn't have known what to do with my lovely little collection of trinkets that now housed my phylactery.
No I wouldn't consider myself clever, but compared to these dusty old fools? I was far, far beyond any of them. | *Yeah, I got this all figured out*. Adam — known to the prison guards as inmate #2013 — could barely contain the smirk which corrupted his face. He’d festered his spiteful request for years; ever since the court sentenced him to death. Waiting in a line of condemned inmates, he was salivating to get to the front.
*They want to sentence me to death for such a petty crime? I’ll show them just how I feel about that!* The moment he looked at the judge, he knew how he would die. She was a tall, sturdy woman with long legs and voluptuous thighs. Her chest housed all her authority and her eyes, her contempt. Each day of his confinement, she’d looked down on him with those icy eyes, as if he were made of glass. Each day, she’d bounce around the halls in those ridiculous heels. Plaguing the hallways with her endless stomping. Just thinking about her filled Adam with rage.
They said he could die any way he chose, right? They would honor any request? *When I get to the front of this line, I’m looking that bitch right in the eyes and smugly telling her, “I request death by snu snu from you, my fair judge. To die with a smile on my face as you crush me with your thighs.”* Oh! The very thought filled Adam’s soul — what little he still had — with joy. Be still my beating heart, he thought to himself while clutching his chest. He waited in line, praying he didn’t die before they could put him to death.
He remained infatuated with his own spiteful genius throughout the queue’s progression. When he was two inmates away from his death, he observed the death wishes before him. He waited with great impatience.
The current inmate due for death — inmate #129 — stood before the judge. The bitch gave him the same disinterested glare she gave everyone else. Though Adam couldn’t blame her for staring at this fellow this way. He was a man of abysmal height, with an enlarged belly and pimples parked all over his face. The complete opposite of Adam’s godly — in his eyes — stature. The man requested his death in a raspy voice. “I would like to die by your hand, Judge Cassandra. By way of snu snu. “ He paused. “Snu snu through your thighs.”
*Great minds think alike. A fellow man of culture right the—OH GOD!*
Cassandra wasted no time delivering the inmate’s request. She unleashed a flurry of hand signs, limbs moving faster than Adam could see. A chill wind permeated through the room, and two ghastly, decrepit legs appeared to the side of the inmate. Veins ripped through the skin of those legs and scabs textured the abductors of the thigh. They squeezed into inmate #129 and pressed together. Taking their time meeting up.
Inmate #129 spent his last living moments screaming, eyes wide and glazed over. This continued for what felt like an eternity until he no longer had a head.
“What was that! That man requested death by your thighs, not the thighs of a ghoul!” Adam said. His eyes blazed into Cassandra’s.
For the first time he could recall, Cassandra flashed him a smirk. A move more unnerving than any condescending glare she had in her arsenal. “Those were my legs… just not from this century.” She said. “Next!”
*Ok, death by snu snu might be off the table. The chick is too conniving. I should play it safe, death by old age. Something normal and painless.*
A brilliant plan, except no sooner than Adam had thought it, the inmate before him had spoken it. There was another set of hand signs. Adam held in his gasp at the result. The man in front of him transformed into an old man. Old, and barely able to breathe of his own accord. With no cane or support to aid his failing knees, he fell to the ground. Adam could clearly hear his gasps for air. He flinched with each breath the old man took in. It was clearly painful for him to breathe.
Yet Cassandra looked pleased. She leaned in and took great interest in the man’s suffering. He did not die promptly. Sixteen hours passed before time granted him the mercy of death.
Now it was Adam’s turn. He tried to bluff his usual demeanor, but sweat was dripping from his forehead.
Cassandra called to him in an sweet voice. “I have to say inmate, I’ve never seen you like this. Is it setting in? The fear of being punished. Are you regretting your actions?”
A corner of Adam’s soul wanted to say yes and plead forgiveness. But he’d stopped listening to that part of himself a long time ago. No. To the very end, he committed to his confident act. He steadied himself to meet her glare and spat out the words.
“I want to die by snu snu bitch! You do it, and not with those ghastly thighs either. You. The present you. That’s my order!”
Another smirk. A new rendition of hand signs. He felt immense pressure clamp on him. He’d won. Until he hadn’t. A chilly sensation washed over his body, and he realized too late what was happening. *I’m being frozen?*
Cassandra continued to smirk. “The present is… ever evolving. There’s no more difficult thing to grasp than the present.” She grabbed at the air with her hand to illustrate. “Each nano-second represent a new ‘present’. It would be impossible for me to complete your request properly, but I’m determined to honor it. I’ll freeze you as long as it takes for us to discover a way to fulfill it. If you happen to… slowly — and coldly — die in that ice before then, that would just be an unfortunate consequence.” | 2022-11-19T00:02:48 | 2022-11-18T22:15:56 | 161 | 36 |
[WP] You live in a world where the repetition of certain acts grants special abilities. Someone who does 10,000 push-ups will gain super strength, someone who runs 10,000 kilometres will gain super speed. You are the first person in history to drink 10,000 litres of alcohol. | “10,000 litres?”
“Yup”
“How are you not dead?”
“I didn’t do it in one long binge, I paced myself”
“That’s not really the point, never mind, so what has happened to you?”
“Well, what happens when YOU get drunk?”
“The usual stuff. Double vision, loss of balance, the occasional bout of memory loss”
“Uh-huh. I get all that up to 11. It’s so ramped up it becomes beneficial. I have so many superpowers now it’s crazy.”
“That makes no sense, explain”
“My balance is so out of joint I can barely walk straight, but at the same time I flail about so much I can dodge practically anything without even trying. My vision is so distorted I can see the future, you’re going to lean in bird poo”
“Bull, there’s no way that an overdose of jaeger does that to you, and now you’ve told me I can avoi....ew”
“You see? And the best part is the memory loss, my brain is trying to repair itself so much I have flashbacks and recall all the time. I have memory gain”
“Memory gain? That’s....underwhelming? Remembering stuff isn’t that big of a deal?”
“Isn’t it? I remembered my wife’s birthday, Valentines Day AND our anniversary this year”
“...Mother of God”
Edit: Wow this blew up, thanks for all the love | My life is ruined.
This morning I did what I always do as the very first thing when I wake up: I opened a new bottle of vodka and drank heartily, but this time it went differently.
First a nice burning sensation, then came the warmth and the relaxation, but then something started to happen. I very quickly got immensely hot, sweating profusely, and then came the worst hangover I have ever experienced. It was a mind-numbing, throbbing pain right behind both eyes. It made me fall down and blinded me.
So I grabbed the bottle and chugged the rest. The headache went away immediately, and the sudden change from pain to relief made me initially unaware of the change in me. After maybe 20 minutes though, I realized: I'm sober!!
So I ran into the kitchen, tore open a new carton of vodka, opended a botle and gulped down almost half a bottle. Nothing.
I had become immune to the effects of alcohol. Guess I'll have to try weed now. | 2018-07-06T04:10:30 | 2018-07-06T01:02:41 | 3,646 | 341 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | Death watches as the boy in front of him starts getting excited, blithering on about some competition he had won and gotten an "awesome tool of awesome." The man starts rummaging around his untidy room looking for something.
Out of the closet comes several odd items. Board games, video games, a glass tube with burn marks around one of two openings, some dirty clothes that would have made anyone with a sensitive nose cry out in horror. When the man finally straightens up, he muttered to himself. "Must've stored it under the bed."
Death is fortunately not bound by the pretty laws of time, and this does not feel the need to hurry the emaciated man up. He is, however, able to get bored. Instead of watching the man continue to remove items from under his bed, he looks at the posters on the walls, all of famous musicians. Oddly, it appears that they're all playing a specific instrument, a-
"Found it!" Cries the man. He triumphantly holds out a instrument case. "I won this in a competition a few years back."
Death had never been the musical type, which meant any musician wise enough to use this against him had an advantage in these death games. One day, he'll beat Keith Richards, just you see. He reluctantly opens the case to find a beautiful instrument, one that had clearly not been made by mortal hands. It's shine reflected the dim light all over the room, the pale light illuminating the dark and dusty room. Despite being unused for several years at least, plucking the strings still produced the proper tones. Despite appearing to be made of gold, it wasn't heavy.
"Alright, so let's have a rock off." The man says, clearly getting excited. "We each get a turn on the guitar, and whoever plays better wins."
Death signs dramatically. "Sure, just one question first. Where did you get this?"
"I told you, from the devil, weren't you listening?" The man clears a space suitable for rocking out by bulldozing the myriad of junk out of the way.
"Mmm. Well, Jonathan, are you ready?"
Johnathan grins. "I was the best that ever was. I was *born* ready." | "Hey Death, whats up?"
Gary knew the bitter cloak of cold that surrounded him was the physical manifestation of Death. Most mortal folk would have cowered in fear if they knew the Grim Reaper was coming for them.
But not Gary. He had played this game before and won.
*You know why I have come, mortal.*
"Of course I do" he said as a smile crept over his lips. "I look forward to our little meetings".
In the corner of the room, a figure formed out of nothingness. The eyes always came first, they burned like a white hot fire if you looked into them for too long. The first of the Death god's bag of tricks, looking into those eyes for even a second would turn you into ash. Next came the cloak, a cloak so dark that it drank any light that tried to illuminate it. Even the human soul would be drained if a mortal made contact with it, the soul just being another form of energy and thus, light. Then the hands formed, more human than one would expect. Albeit, they were gross hands, diseased and raw with no skin. Touching those hands would be a slow and nasty death, but Gary knew better.
"Done showing off, old friend"?
*We are not friends. I have a debt to collect. Name your game, mortal.*
Gary chuckled the same way an adult would chuckle at an insolent child. "No need to get all hostile, I know this is just business for you". He tapped his chin in thought. "Any game right"?
*Don't play dumb. You know the rules.*
"Okay. Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2: Rust. Intervention only."
*Son of a bitch.*
Gary knew he had another ten years coming.
| 2018-03-07T09:07:30 | 2018-03-07T07:52:34 | 55 | 41 |
[WP] The legendary hero that we summoned to save the realm was not what we expected. He was gruff, not handsome. He direct in his speech, not elegant. He also came with "Navy Seal Training," which we think is some sort of swordplay and a "Medal of Honor," which must be some sort of crown. | The last time I was in 1968 I was swatting away mosquitoes and watching a canal for a sampan carrying a high-ranking VC officer. Now I'm in some medieval fantasy land creeping through a swamp.
At least the Mekong was warm and had some life to it; this place was bone-cold and dead. Plenty of trees but not a single snake or bug; and I've never seen a swamp that didn't have bugs even in the winter. You learn what a swamp is when you're born and raised in Louisiana, and brother this ain't no swamp I've ever seen. A big mud hole with some dead cypress trees sticking up like light poles. I ain't sure how I got here, but the little orb of light keeps leading me further into the shadows.
Among a lot of other questions, I'd really like to know what *language* these people speak. Half of it sounds like something out of Shakespeare with a bit of Korean and Spanish thrown in for spice. When I woke up on a hot stone slab surrounded by candles, an old woman with her face painted up like an Apace warrior was looming over me and muttering gibberish. I thought it was a bad acid trip until I realized things were solid, not runny like they were the last time Donahue slipped me a tab. Sometime passed and I wound up standing in a big hall with a throne on an elevated platform.
The lady was cute, a lot better than the mamasans that do the laundry back at camp. Big blue eyes, blonde hair, and wearing a ball gown. I gotta admit, the tattoos on her face ruined her looks but from the way the rest of the crowd was acting, she must be some kind of a big deal here. The people that looked like they had money stood along the edges and kept their mouths shut; the ones in rags were on their knees or got out of sight when the lady got off her throne.
Oh yeah, and get this...
This was a *castle*. Just like the King Arthur comic books I used to buy at the five and dime. High ceiling, rows of tables and benches, and a big fire pit in the middle of the place with logs burning in the middle of it.
And here I am, Petty Officer Sandy Mitchell standing in the middle of it all looking like Joe Shit the Ragman. Blue jeans, jungle boots, and a tiger-stripe fatigue shirt; holding an AK-47, a half dozen grenades, and my trusty Ithaca shotgun.
The lady said some stuff to me, but I didn't catch a wiff of it. Aside from English, I can speak Creole, and a little bit of Vietnamese. The gobbeldygook these people were talking was out there. I figured they caught onto it too, the old lady that brought me here started speaking to the lady. They must've come to some kinda agreement about me...
Three days later here I am. Following a glowing orb the old lady conjured up into the spookiest place I've ever seen in my life. Other than some wild gestures at a ratty tapestry that gave me the hint I'm going towards a cave, I have no idea what they want out of me. Another moment of honesty, I'm scared out of my wits.
BUD/S was a taste of hell. That shit up in Laos that got me within spitting distance of the Congressional Medal of Honor was the stuff of nightmares. I'll never forget what I saw there for as long as I live. Going through a five mile deep swamp without seeing anything alive is making my skin crawl in a new and thoroughly unwelcome way.
And I'm alone.
The rest of the team probably figures Charlie got me... I wish I had been that lucky. | The night was dark. The enemies where at our gates. Thousands of eons of war and bloodshed had lead up to this very moment.
What was left of our country’s scientist, generals and politicians had banded together. Cast aside previous political and social boundaries and banded together for a common cause. This was our hill to die on.
Not much was left of the human race. Not much at all. For the past decade we had been forced to scavenge this wasteland for whatever desperate resources we could. But here, in the capital, people from all seven continents had gathered. The greatest minds of a generation had come together. And finally humanity had a glimmer of hope.
Was it alchemy? Was it science? Genetic engineering, inter dimensional fuckery or something else or together?
Someone knew but not I. I was just there to press the button.
The countdown began and slowly the portal sparked into life. Waves of power surged through every man in the control room, shaking us to the core. And from the shivering, pale blue light emerged a figure.
He was... he was short. And kind of ugly too to be honest. The greasy beard lining the bottom of his round and spotty face was really the only thing that separated his head from his. His waddled through the portal slowly, donning a long black goat, fingerless gloves and small wire framed glasses. His breathing laboured.
“General! We must have messed up the numbers! This can’t be right!” I said as I turned to around to face the room.
“Dear god Robert this was our last cha-“
The general’s words where cut off with a swift clank. I turned back to face the portal to see a katana embedded in my computer console.
Then he spoke....
“What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo.” | 2020-11-10T17:48:17 | 2020-11-10T17:46:17 | 71 | 17 |
[WP] You gained immortality by absorbing thousands of souls. They have gotten used to it and act like Twitch chat watching a livestream of your life. | Every waking moment I hear them. Sometimes they’re kind, supportive, loving and other times they’re obnoxious, they panic, and they say the most stupidest things that it makes me want blow my brains out.
*-He tried it and failed LUL*
*-What a loser*
*-Yeah what Kevin said*
Today I had decided to sit in a park and try to relax. Extra emphasis on try. You see I’m an immortal and I can’t die. Long ago I found this book and it said that I could become immortal if absorbed souls. Took me a while to find out how but I got the hang of it and before you know I’m immortal. But what the book didn’t tell me was that the souls would be constantly pestering me for every minute of my pitiful life.
*-Big loser*
*-Hahaha*
*-Hey anyone know who Joe is?*
*-Who’s Joe?*
*-Joe mama*
*-Joe mama*
*-Ligma balls*
And it got worse as I entered the 21st century and this thing called live streaming was introduced. Some guy told me to check it out and I regret even seeing it, especially this stupid site called Twitch.
*-Poggers dude*
*-Gross! Henry licked me again*
*-No I didn’t!*
*-How is even possible? We’re souls*
Because of this “live streaming” the souls got ideas of how to make this experience worse. They treat it like my life is a “live stream” and say I could do better.
*-Hey I’m new here can I be a mod?*
*-Stop asking for mod guys*
*-Eew I stepped in Kevin’s pee puddle*
*-Sorry there’s no where else to go*
*-Guys shut up*
*-Hey guys check out my stream at <link deleted>*
*-No links you know what that does to his head*
As I was saying I’m sitting in park when I hear police sirens behind me. I roll my eyes knowing they somehow did it again.
**DID SOMEONE CALL THE COPS AGAIN?!?**
*-I didn’t*
*-Nah*
*-PogChamp the cops*
*-Let’s go boys*
*-I bet it was Kevin*
*-Hell no it was Mike*
*-Can someone tell me what’s going on?*
*-Chat is moving so fast they won’t notice how gay I am Kappa*
*-welp!*
*-LUL Pete*
I turned around and tried to face the cops both hands in the air. Two officers exit their vehicle with their guns drawn towards my direction.
“Don’t move! Keep your hands in the air where we can see them!” Shouted one. They began getting closer and closer to me, guns still drawn.
“Officers, I don’t want any trouble. I’m not a terrorist. I’m just a normal citizen who trying to relax.” I tried to keep my voice calm but the first time this happened I was immediately tackled to the floor and handcuffed.
*-That was hilarious*
*-Your head went BONK*
*-Ow stop biting me*
*-No one is biting you Holly*
*-Shut up you don’t know*
The officers slowly approached me and scanned the bench which I was sitting on. Both officers frowned and looked at each other.
“Do you think calling the cops is a sick joke?” I shook my head.
“Then what the hell is this?” One of the officers held up an AK-47 from off the ground. First off, I never carry guns I carry a spiked club which I use to bludgeon my victims to get their souls but I left that at home.
*-Lmaoooo they found it*
*-He’s so busted*
*-Wait what?!?*
*-OMFG no way lmao*
*-Wait till he sees what I did LUL*
*-You guys are terrible*
*-So is that a no for mod?*
Somehow they figure out how do these things and it’s astounds me. I can’t go anywhere without trouble following me around the corner.
“Did someone order pizza?”
(On mobile sorry for format :( Really tried on this one) | Each step was a mountain of effort. Each step was more than I could achieve in a thousand lifetimed. Each step they drove me on and on through the snow and somehow I kept moving. I had stopped shivering days ago, and the skin on my hands was black. Even so I could move them, and I made it a point to do so every hundred steps or so. Just to be sure I still could. The souls within gave me strength.
I wanted to lay down. Let this blasted winter bury me and wake up when spring came again. If spring came again. They wouldn't let me.
Two thousand three hundred forty one. Lives I had taken. Voices within me. At first they were afraid, then from the fear rose anger. Hate. Rage. Fury like I had never imagined. Fury so hot it had literally burned me. I longed for that heat now, but it was gone. Hate has given way to understanding. Understanding gave way to acceptance, and even acceptance had fallen away in the face of sheer determination.
I stumbled as the toe of my boot caught something. I nearly caught myself but I fell. The snow was so soft. So welcoming. So warm. I tried to push myself up but my muscles refused to obey. I could stay here and rest, just for a little while. I'd earned that much, hadn't I?
"Get up." A voice demanded. A command soon echoed by all the others surging within me. A cocophony of encouragement. I struggled and strained, forced myself up, my body afire with the agony of effort. If I could stand, I could walk. A step forward, then another. The demands fell away.
I had lost track of time, and it was getting dark when I finally arrived. I pounded on the door but found no answer. No matter, the ax splintered the heavy wood and I had collapsed from exhaustion only twice before I made it inside.
The bunker was easy to find. The door was open. Cracked. The smallest gap and I knew at once I was too late.
The voices were silent as I surged in with strength, newfound in despair. There was only one body. A little girl, couldn't have been older than twenty. I knew from the moment I saw her that she was dead. Even so I checked her for a pulse, breathing, any sign of life.
Nothing.
Fury rose in me and I clutched at her throat, choking her. I held it like that for ten, maybe twenty minutes before the strength in my hands had failed. I held her in my arms, rocking her slowly as I wept. Bitter sobs wracked me. She hadn't been dead long, only a few days. I was too late. I had failed. Again.
Within me was another voice, almost as mournful as my own. The girl's mother. I'd failed her. I'd failed them all. I'd earned their trust, and one by one I'd let them all down. Each and every one of them in their own turn.
"I'm sorry." I said. Over and over again. They understood. Their forgiveness came, familiar now, but meaningless. Two thousand three hundred forty one. Lives I had taken. Lived I had saved.
I had seen the end coming and saved as many as I could within myself. Hating myself for the method necessary. And the end I had foreseen did come, and even after it I looked for more. But they were all gone. Two thousand three hundred forty one. 2341.
And that was all there would ever be. | 2020-09-26T17:31:11 | 2020-09-26T17:26:56 | 92 | 68 |
[WP] The Devil and Jesus meet each other disguised as hobos. They don't realise, who the other really is (at first) and start having a conversation. | "Go ahead, sit beside me, friend."
The hobo patted the spot in the boxcar next to him. The slender figure climbed in and sat down. Both men were ruddy-cheeked and had easy smiles on their faces.
"So, friend, where ya from?"
Oh, you know how it is with us hobos. Everywhere. Nowhere.
"Ain't that the truth." The first hobo took out a flask.
"Found this dead soldier. After a bit of cadging, I got someone to fill 'em up."
He offered his flask to the slender hobo. With a smile, he took a swig.
"So, you been doing this long?"
Oh, a long, long time.
"How old are ya?"
Haha. I'm older than dirt. Yourself?
"Well, you know what we call two eggs on toast?"
Of course. Adam and Eve on a raft.
"You could say I was there when they invented that."
No way. Where are you looking to go this time out?
"Probably gonna head out, wander a bit. I been doing what I been doing for too long. Gonna travel the world a bit, take a break. I was in the calaboose for a while. When I got out, I did some bad stuff, but one day I just stopped. I filled my kicks with whatever I thought I needed, and headed out."
The slender hobo nodded.
Everyone's got regrets. But everyone's got a second chance.
The two men chuckled. They talked. The freight train chugged along down the track, onward to frontier parts of the Midwest. They traded monikers. The first hobo was Sidewinder. The second was Angel.
"Angel?! I know that monika. You're pretty famous. Usually, we're looking for stuff from marks, but you help out too. Word is you share what you got, 50/50."
Everyone needs a bit of help to get through. I like to help carry the burden if there's burden to be carried.
"You're a good man."
Sidewinder leaned his head back. His whiskey had gotten to him. When he woke, the train had stopped for a bit. He saw Angel jumping out. True to his moniker, Angel had left behind a small pile of whatever he had carried. Some crackers, a block of cheese, a fresh pair of clean socks. By the time Sidewinder got to the boxcar door, Angel was out and walking off.
"Thanks, Angel. You're a real..."
Angel kept walking. Sidewinder stopped. Stared. He stared hard at the figure getting smaller as he walked away. He thought back on his conversation with him. Hours, they sat next to each other. Sharing whiskey. Sharing cheese. Breaking bread. He started whispering to himself, but as he spoke, his voice got louder.
"...older than dirt...second chance...gonna help carry the burden when he walks alongside you... Hey! HEY!"
Angel turned around.
"My real name is Luke."
I know.
"Yours?"
You know.
"Josh? Joshua? Is that what you go by when people ask around here?"
Yes.
"Does this...What does this mean?"
You know.
Enjoy your trip, Sidewinder. I'll see you when you're done. Have fun. Don't get into trouble.
Lucifer sat down. He looked at the fresh socks and smirked, a tear rolling down his cheek. As the train rolled onwards, he repeated the words, in a whisper, as if saying them too loudly might make them untrue.
"I'm going home." | "Hey."
"Hey."
Time goes by in silence; conversation is not obligatory in a shelter. And yet, the area around the two men is clear, as if others recognize their power and hesitate to join them, even in the crowded cafeteria. The voices and faces around them eventually fade away.
"So," starts the younger man. "It's been a while since we've been in the same physical location."
"Yep," says the older man. The wear and tear of the world is more clearly evident on his face. A badly-heeled scar runs the length of one cheek and his left eye droops as a result. He is missing teeth, and as he grips his coffee cup, the younger man notices he is also missing his last two fingers.
"Looks like you've been in the trenches," says Younger. "Not going so well?" Despite his homeless status, he's in good physical shape, with piercing blue eyes and long clean hair.
"Let's not play stupid games," replied Older. "You people know exactly how it's going. Your Big Data campaign, the re-branding - all of it is moving people away from churches in droves. Nice eye color, by the way."
"The younger man blushed a little, but let the dig slide. "Ironic, isn't it, that taking religion out of the equation actually tips the scales toward goodness? I had a hard time convincing the Big Man, but it's pretty hard to argue with data."
The older man got up to leave. "Well, I congratulate you on a surprising tactic. You're right - as religion fades, people actually *do* get morally better overall. But really, I have to get back. I have a meeting with my own Big Data team in just a few minutes."
"Oh really," said Younger. "Nice to see you're finally moving into this epoch. Care to share the topic?"
"We're calling it the Church Void Campaign'", replied Older. "After all, in the beginning was the void. And, as you know, voids never stays empty for long. People need to fill their time with something. We've found a unique means to torture humanity, and bring out the very worst in all of them."
Younger said, horrified "Come on! My team has almost succeeded in doing away with 10,000 years of superstition and holy war! The religious zealots are on the run! Can't you just give the world a breather?"
"Are you kidding?" replied Older. "And lose all that lovely momentum?"
"Well, I wish you luck," replied Younger. "After all, it took me 2000 years to build a church and change the minds of Mankind. I was never able to reach them all, and my message did as much harm as good for those I did reach. What entity could you possible build that would reach more humans and cause more harm?"
"Reddit," said Satan, blowing on his coffee as he walked away. "I don't need the masses to do evil - my henchmen can take care of that part. I just need them to do nothing."
| 2014-07-29T09:14:26 | 2014-07-29T08:56:14 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] You and your pet rabbit live in a remote part of Australia, far away from your dark past. Animal control has come to your door and informed you that it is illegal to own a rabbit unless you can prove you are a magician. Now you must do something you swore you would never do again.
Edit: Oh wow, this blew up while I was asleep, looks like this hit the front page. Thanks for all your wonderful stories. It is going to take me a while to get through them all, but I intend to read every one. This really brightened my morning. | I looked at the front of the house from my car window. I could hear the children screaming with delight in the backyard. Balloons on the mailbox bobbed with every slight breeze.
My rabbit, Rabbit, sat on the passenger seat next to me nibbling on a carrot. I purchased him when I found out I was allergic to cats and dogs. All I wanted was an animal to keep me company at home. A quiet animal.
Birds are just plain obnoxious and I don't have the stomach for things with scales.
Laughter erupted from behind the home. I checked my watch. I had a few more minutes. I'd prefer to not do any magic, but animal control was explicit about having to perform. So, here I was, performing at one of their kid's birthday party.
I never wanted to be a magician. I swore once I was certified, I'd never perform again at a party. I hate children. Their incessant rambling about nonsense. Making messes. Having to discipline them. I just wanted a rabbit.
I thumbed through the Magic 101 book again trying to remember the most basic card tricks I'd learned in order to keep Rabbit. I fumbled about as I practiced for the final time.
I gathered my things, patted Rabbit, and stepped outside the car. It sighed with relief as my heavy body freed itself.
"Let's get this humiliation over with. Rabbit, if...if I fail, run. Live a happy life. I'll leave the door open and you can be free."
I turned and walked toward the front door, my eyes wet. | You slowly slink down on the sofa as the officer's dead eyes shift from you, to Mr. Fluffenbottom, back to you again. The shaking of your hands is barely concealed by the, in all honesty quite amateurish, card shuffle you're occupying them with.
Under the officer's watchful gaze, the memories of that fateful day are flooding back into your mind. Children crying. Adults rushing towards the exits. The seething rage of your manager back stage. Chaos. That day day you promised yourself to quit the magician's life, and to never do your ultimate magic trick ever again.
But now Mr. Fluffenbottom's life is in the balance. Though thoroughly conflicted, with stress hormones raging through your body, you decide that you have not other choice. One, final performance, to properly prove, and end, your magician's career. "Excuse me officer." The words barely roll across your sandpaper tongue. Slowly, you raise a trembling hand. "But is this your card?" | 2016-07-09T04:27:21 | 2016-07-09T03:10:42 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] "I don't need your protection." The princess scoffs. The paladin hops off his steed, yanks her to out of the cart, and tosses her a spare sword. "Prove it." She demands. | Sir Pentious was nearing his wit's end, feeling the beration of Her Royal Highness. The Princess complained of her shakles, complained of the way he carried her, complained of the hardtack and provisions, complained of the lack of amenities in his humble cart. Through mantra, and reverence, these were things he could ride through. He had saved many a noble before; and all nobles complained the same. Her last remark, however, dug deep into his ego, his pride, and sparked his short fuse.
"I don't need your protection."
The scoff was what really set him seeing red. The insolence. The *nerve*. He could have died, and several times, nearly did, in his quest to rescue her.
He silently slowed the cart to a stop. Slowly disembark off of his steed. He ignored her inquisitive complaints as he moved to the rear of the cart, grabbing Her Royal Highness and yanking her out. He was careful enough not to shove her into the dirt, but pushed her some paces away, before tossing a sheathed sword in her direction.
**"Then prove it."**
He removed his blade from his side, locking the sheath. While this was a time for violence, it was no time for blood. Only a lesson, at most.
Her Royal Highness only got a confused "what" out before being forced to block the incoming blow. Then another. And another. Slow attacks, but purposeful and strong. She attempted to reason with her new agressor, but violence was the only language the Paladin spoke, now.
She understood the picture, and after deflecting another blow, took an offensive stance. The next attack; parry, riposte. Smaller attacks, aiming for vital points, forcing the Paladin to block, opening new avenues of attack. Forced block, swing. Parry, riposte.
Through several minutes of back-and-forth combat, tension from Sir Pentious gave way to a thin smile of surprise. **"I see that I am mistaken in your abilities. You have been trained in the blade."**
"Yes, and I am quite good at it too, thank you very much."
Sir Pentious smiled.
**"Very well then."**
The blows from the Paladin became more complex, adding finnese into the brute strength. It was enough to put the Princess on her toes, back on the defensive, but not enough to deter her attacks. They parleyed for several minutes more, before the smile became a laugh. **"A Royal, able to withstand the might of a Paladin! Color me impressed, Your Highness."**
The Princess couldn't help but to give a smile. "Get the picture yet? Still think I need a protector?" To accent her point, she lunged for a vital area, a weakness in the armor.
To her surprise, she hit; not due to aim, but the Paladin leaned into the attack, *allowing* it. As he did, his offhand rammed straight into her stomach, now unprotected. The Princess keeled over, coughing and dry heaving in pain, as her blade dropped. The Paladin gave a prayer in a foreign language, before smiling and offering a hand to the Princess.
**"No,"** He stated, a chuckle on his voice.
**"What you need is experience."** | The match went...longer than expected.
-----
"I don't need your protection." The princess scoffed.
The paladin hopped off his steed, yanked her to out of the cart, and tossed her a spare sword.
"Prove it." He demanded.
The 12 year old princess picked up the short sword. She examined it, and then did the same to the paladin drawing a large circle in the dirt around them. This was certainly new to her. Never had she been instructed to "prove" her point though combat. The paladin spoke up.
"Upon the start, you are to do your damnedest to knock me from this ring. My goal, on the other hand, is to capture you, or make you leave the ring."
The ~~girl~~ princess scowled at the armoured man she called her paladin. He knew of her magical abilities. How could he hope to succeed?
"We will try again in the case of a draw." The Paladin spoke confidently now; nearly belittling her.
"We will begin when I say. I am playing the role of your capturer after all. Attackers tend to work and attack on their own schedule."
The princess cast a spell to strengthen her body so she could more comfortably wield the sword. It was an advanced spell, and she hadn't had much practice with it, but it would do for now. The Paladin took a pose with the short sword's hilt in his hand, and spoke.
"Begin."
He rushed forward, then right, then left, zig zagging towards his opponent with each step, oddly graceful for the hefty armour he adorned. At this point, the princess realized she had never seen him fight like this. He swung a few blows which she blocked with only some ease. She twisted her foot causing the area before her to turn to mud, causing him to sink ungracefully to his shins. At which point, she hopped back, just out of his hilt's reach and blasted him with fire.
She may have been a bit more than angry considering she was yanked from her cart and forced into combat. After a short moment of fire, she realized her mistake and stopped the blast. He was no where to be seen, and the ground had hardened at the flames heat.
Her worry transformed to surprise in an instant as a hand sprang forth from the ground. The clever man had encased himself in the mud, thus protecting him from the flame. It had to be uncomfortable though considering she had boiled the water off of him.
If it was, he gave no indication of it as he freed the rest of his body and rolled backwards to land on his feet, all while retrieving his shield. Then he charged again upon the broken ground and jumped just as it all turned to mud again below him.
-----
To be continued... | 2022-05-04T10:09:14 | 2022-05-04T08:32:25 | 120 | 80 |
[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. |
The next day I woke up, dressed, ate breakfast, and drove to school in my crappy '93 caprice as usual. "Just another day. Just a normal, 'nuther day," I mumbled aloud, half hoping and completely unconvinced of the words that struggled to push past my lips.
I pulled into the student parking lot and made my way Inside. On the way through the lobby, Tom locked eyes with me from his locker and smiled slyly. "I've got 5 minutes if you're free" he yelled to me, just loud enough for others to hear. A series of hoots and coos ensued from those within earshot. I turned my face to the floor and followed the blue tile in the opposite direction.
"C'mon, man! It's kind of, you know, like your duty now! Think of how much money you could make." Allen looked at me at my locker with excited eyes, completely ignoring my mental well-being. "Seriously, drop it," I spat back. "Dude, I can't. That would be like telling Frank Sinatra to put down the mic, Barry Bonds to put down the bat, Tiger Woods to put down the club---" "what the hell! Why do all of your examples have to be about phallic objects!?" I began to lose my mind. "They're called metaphors Dum dum, but I guess you won't need brains anymore with beautiful DSLs like those, right?" Allen was just playing with me now. "FOR THE LAST TIME, I'M NOT GOING TO USE MY NEW POWER OF GIVING THE GREATEST BLOW JOBS!" There it was, I completely lost it. In front of the whole school. But I didn't stop there, I started point at people and yelling "You don't get a blowjob! You don't get a blowjob! Ohhhh no, no blowjobs for you! No one is getting their penis anywhere near my mouth! I'm STRAIGHT." I was breathing heavily and everyone stood there motionless, mouths agape, just staring at me. No, not quite at me. At my lips. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran to my car and drove away.
Months later, the pressure had become too much for me and I lost my ability to cope without drugs. I got mixed up with some shady people and that's how I started sucking dick for cash on the street. Today I'll put the barrel of 1911, that I paid for with 12 blowjobs, into my semen laden mouth and pull the trigger.
Fin. | 2015-03-28T06:27:10 | 2015-03-28T06:25:16 | 70 | 11 |
[WP] "This is a story where the bad guys win"
I always see stories that are predictable. The good guy always wins or there's some kind of anti-hero that everyone loves / hates. Surprise me with something different. | "P..please, please don't hurt us!"
One of his captives plead desperately as he continued shoveling the freshly minted wads of bills into his third duffel bag.
"I'm begging you, pl--"
The sudden crack of gunfire was hardly stifled within the steel walls of the vault; his ears were ringing sharply, but the muffled sounds of cold, hard cash tumbling into his bag made it more bearable despite the array of terrified screams resounding from the others bound and strewn along the bank floor. The bank manager's body lay lifeless on the cold, marble floor, but the gunman surely didn't mind. What he did mind was the spatter of blood on his clothing. Blood that wasn't his. It would irk him greatly until the deed was done.
One of the burglars came screeching around the corner leading to the vault. His breath was short, which typically meant nothing well-boding for the team.
"Oi, trouble's a comin'. Time to bail."
He stuffed one more set of bills into the bag before hastily zipping it up, lugging the three duffel bags over his shoulders before turning on his heel to flee. A sudden voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Y..you're not getting away with this you know."
He slowly turned to match the face to the woman's voice.
"The cops are gonna' get you, and you're either going to die or rot in prison for life."
He scoffed. The remaining four hostages leered at him, apparently finding some comfort in the woman's demand for justice from the universe. He slowly walked toward the woman, flipping off the safety on his .45 Colt pistol, "And what the hell makes you so sure?"
She felt a waning in her confidence from his cold demeanor, and was shaking fast as he approached closer, "B-because it's how the world works.. you'll pay for your crimes, you just think you'll get away with it because you have a gun."
He swiftly aimed at one of the hostages' heads and pulled the trigger, his ears ringing once more. "How the world works? What do *you* know about how the world works!?"
The gunman lowered himself and grabbed the woman by the hair, drunken by a cocktail of anger and pleasure from the monologue to follow.
"This sense of justice you keep spouting out your *goddamn* mouth, this... abstract notion of good overcoming evil... you think this will save you? There is no 'fairness'; no 'karma'; no cavalry riding over the hill..."
He squeezed the trigger against another bank employee. The ringing no longer bothered him.
"...your steadfast Biblical notion that wrong-doers will be properly punished under the eyes of the just... lady, you are more far-gone than I can ever be."
He aimed at another hostage, keeping his gaze fiercely locked into the woman's as he squeezed the trigger once more. The woman he was lecturing hardly jumped from the sound.
"You... are but a *filler*, hardly the trace of an idea that would even be *considered* to fill but a line in this harrowing tale that the world continues to spin. This is no fairy tale. No... no. This... this my dear, is a story where the bad guys win. And the sooner you accept it the sooner you know your place."
He slowly stood up, taking pleasure in the woman's speechlessness as he turned to take his leave toward the exit. The gunman had a couple more bullets in his magazine, and felt it was a waste to not expend them; he fired the remaining rounds into the hostage next to the visibly shaken woman whom he spoke with, and with a wide grin he turned tail. He hoped the woman would hold it together enough to indulge the police with a good story. | The alarm shook Fiona out of her sleep. Her husband Chris was already up and about. Fiona hovered her hand over the snooze button, but the scent of pancakes wafted up and woke her up fully. She turned off the alarm and got out of bed.
She went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and saw herself in the mirror. There were dark bruises around her left eye and down her neck. She nudged the bruise on her eye and felt pain. "Chris?" she asked.
"Yes hon?" came his response from the adjacent kitchen.
"Can you come over here for a second?" asked Fiona.
"One second," said Chris. Fiona heard his heavy footsteps draw near.
Chris poked his head into the bathroom. "What is it, Fi? I'm cooking breakfast."
When she saw Chris's face appear behind her in the mirror, she flinched, but wasn't quit sure why. It was just her husband. "These bruises," said Fiona. "I don't remember getting hurt."
"Oh, Fiona, don't you remember?" asked Chris. "You fell down the stairs yesterday. We went to the emergency room and everything."
Fiona touched the eye bruise again. "Huh," she said. "That's so strange, I don't remember it at all. In fact I don't remember anything from yesterday."
"You just need some rest," said Chris. "I'll bring you breakfast in bed. And don't forget to take one of the painkillers on the nightstand. Those should help." He returned to the kitchen.
"Ok," said Fiona. She brushed her teeth since she was already up, but got back into bed after. The bottle of pills near her bed was completely unmarked and half-empty. "Chris?"
"Coming," said Chris. About a minute later he came into the bedroom with a pancake on a plate and a glass of water. Once again, Fiona felt a strong revulusion upon seeing Chris's face, but she had no idea why. "Sorry for the delay. I just wanted to finish making you breakfast."
"Thank you," said Fiona. "I was wondering, what kind of painkillers did they give me? The bottle doesn't say anything."
"Huh, that is strange," said Chris. He picked up the bottle and inspected it. "Still, you'd better take one. Doctor's orders." Chris handed her the water and poured out one pill into her open hand.
She stared at the pill. It was small, white, and didn't have any markings on it. "I don't know if I should."
"Please, Fiona. I just want you to get better," said Chris.
Her hand was trembling. The sweat on Fiona's hand had dissolved part of the pill on her hand. She looked at her husband's face and suddenly she remembered. She remembered Chris throwing her down the stairs the night before after a silly argument when she'd bought the wrong kind of hot sauce from the supermarket. She remembered the time he slammed her head into a window when she'd dared to go out for drinks with her coworkers after work.
"*Take the pill*," said Chris. He grabbed her hand and pushed it towards her mouth. She resisted but couldn't overcome him. Then Chris took the glass of water, grabbed her cheeks, and forced her to gulp it down.
Then Fiona forgot everything all over again. | 2015-06-04T14:56:45 | 2015-06-04T14:32:56 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] You don't sleep. Instead you die every day and 8 hours later you wake up in the body of a person who has 16 hours left to live. | The third time I died was the hardest.
I have died hundreds - maybe thousands - of times. But the third time is still the one that sticks with me most. But it made me who I am.
It was a cool day. The sun peeked out from the clouds, striking the window, and the light slowly woke me up. The window was cracked just enough to let a cool breeze in, and I could smell the start of fall.
As I woke, I could see a woman sleeping in the chair next to my bed, a teddy bear gripped in her arms. Beside her, on the floor but propped against both the chair and the wall, a man was snoring lightly. They both had red, puffy features.
A nausea roiled in my stomach, and a fought down bile and an urge to throw up. I ached all over, and felt almost wooden in some areas.
I slipped from the bed, careful not to wake them, and looked into the mirror on the dresser. There I was... maybe 12, wearing pajamas of some cartoon I did not know. A little girl. I had no hair, and with the sickness, I knew exactly what it meant.
I admit, it broke me a little bit. The whole reason I started down this path... well, that's another story. Still, I knew this would be her last day. I assumed her parents knew things would be ending soon as well, given their state.
Until then, I had looked at this as an adventure. One day to live as someone new. New experiences, new places, but I could do what I want and damn the consequences.
I woke my 'parents' up. They were surprised to see me up. Considering how I felt, I was too. But I lied. I told them I was feeling okay today. So, we ate breakfast as a family. We spent the day as a family, and every little while, I made sure to tell them how much I loved them. And when evening came, I told them I was not feeling well. I told them I did not think I was going to wake up tomorrow. They cried. I cried.
But I told them how much I loved them, and how I knew they loved me. And then we all climbed into bed together, and I went to sleep.
I do not know what happened to them. I hope that day meant as much to them as it did to me.
I have died hundreds of times, now. But I have lived a hundred last moments where I hope I brought closure to lives that needed it - not to those who die, but those who live.
It has been so long, I have forgotten who I was. But in doing so, I became everyone. | As the gun is pressed against my head, the steaming hot barrel singing and letting the aroma of burning hair spiral up against the top of the car, I wish, not for the first time, that I had my original body.
Breath in, the gun clicks back.
Breath out.
Move.
Hand snaps out, spirals the gun in front of me. The jerk pulls the trigger in the man's hand, and the bullet whizzes in front of me, close enough that I'm deafened, close enough to see it's a 9 millimeter bullet. It's spinning and I whirl about close enough to feel the buzz of burning gases across exposed skin, neck popping, and stare at the man.
Breath in.
Breath out.
Count the heart beats, know the seconds.
Everyone gets a turn with me at the wheel. Wish I had less time to save everyone. Quality over quantity.
The car's still in motion, and my hands snap out to steady the wheel before we colliding with oncoming traffic, but his hand is already pushing the gun back against me. Elbow up, snap the pistol into the air, collide with his fingers.
Grunt of surprise from the man, but I'm already in motion again.
Right hand snaps out, snares the gun from his fingers. Flicks it across the fingers, spins it down into the palm of my hand.
It's not safe to take your eyes off of the road, so the three shots fired into his skull are entirely blind. The spray of blood across the side of my head is only a mild distraction.
I've driven through worse.
Breath in.
Keep watch.
Breath out.
The hot gun stings at my fingers as the sulfur spirals, leaving smudges against my fingers. I drop it into the dead man's lap. In the rear view mirror I can spy the other victim. From the dread in my body's mind, it's about what I expected. Attempted double homicide, theft, robbery.
It's going to be another long night.
All's fair in the service of the lord.
----
For more like this, click here! https://www.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/ | 2018-06-20T07:54:17 | 2018-06-20T06:23:08 | 537 | 40 |
[WP] You live in a small town, and the legend of King Arthur, while widely known, is...just a legend - until Excalibur is found lodged in a nearby stone. The man who pulls it out will become king, and you pull it out. But there are two problems - America isn't a monarchy, and you're a woman. | After years of not paying much mind to the mysterious sword lodged in the glistening gray stone, I finally decided to try my luck by attempting to remove it. To my surprise, it came out easily, and not realizing how heavy it was I nearly dropped it over my head. The few people around me all stopped in shocked silence, for they had seen many try and fail to get the sword over the years. Suddenly, a light descended upon me and a young man in medieval clothing appeared.
He eyed me with the sword and made a face.
“Thanks a lot girl, you’ve just awoken me from my centuries long nap, could you not have just let the sword be?”
I stared at him. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”
“That’s irrelevant.” He took the sword out of my hand and sighed.
“Oh well, as long as I’m here I might as well fulfill my duty, come with me.”
The townspeople waited to see what I would do in suspense, as I suddenly felt myself getting lighter and lighter.
“What was that?” I asked, after seeing a flash of light. I took in my surroundings and then noticed that we were no longer in my small town, but in front of the White House!
“How’d we get here?” I felt terrified. Just moments ago I had been miles from the capital, and now here I was, standing here with a strange man and what looked to be Excalibur.
“My, my. You ask many questions my dear, a bad habit indeed.” The man critiqued. “Congratulations, girl, you are now queen of whatever land this is.”
“But that’s impossible! We have a president to lead us that was elected, there is no royalty here!”
The man laughed. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, but it matters not who is currently in power. It is now your reign.”
Then a tall strong man with sunglasses emerged from the White House and approached us.
He turned to the young man.
“I got the message Dorian, you are now free to go.”
And just like that, the medieval man vanished, leaving Excalibur with the man with the sunglasses.
He then turned and looked to me.
“Miss, you need to come with me. We have a lot to discuss.”
Edit: [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/user/polkadot48/comments/c3bd6x/excalibur_story_part_2/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app) is up!
Edit: [Part 3!](https://www.reddit.com/user/polkadot48/comments/c3ej7i/excalibur_story_part_3/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app) | "Now you have gone and done it." A little man appeared from behind the stone. You were sure he wasn't there a minute ago. "I told the council that it was a mistake to bring Caliburn across the way."
"Who are you?" you say with a slightly higher voice than you are used to.
"I am Charles guardian of the sword and now your guide."
"are you a ..." a question starts to stumble out of your lips as the man cuts you off
"A leprechaun? No but we are related. If it helps your mortal brain to think of me as such go ahead."
"So this is actually..."
"Yes as you would know it Excalibur."
"Does this mean I get to be ..."
"No that requires a monarchy, since these Americas aren't in possession of one that means that the magic expresses itself in other ways."
"What do you mean?"
"Well for starters you even if you were royalty you would be more of a Queen now." And Charles gestures towards you making a sort of hourglass motion with his hands.
You stare down and thought that something felt... different. Not sure how you feel yet about this change of sex you venture another question, "Are their any other perks?"
"Standard magical powers that come with any object of the sort. Same as Arthur flight, speed, strength, stickiness."
"Stickiness?" you ask getting a slight squeamish feeling wondering what that could be.
"Yes Arthur never ever got knocked off his horse, and since it isn't expending extra magic binding the kingdom under your rule you even get to make wishes."
"Really?" Even with the "change" you could see yourself getting used to this.
"Yes only minor ones really. and not to many at a time you understand, but you could..."
This time it was Charles that was interrupted as a Coke Zero appeared in your hand
"And there you go." He said with a smile, "Now are you ready for your first adventure?"
"Adventure?" you ask
"Of course, Just because you aren't King doesn't mean you get to miss out on all the fun. Let's go!"
Edit: made the "gender swap" a little more obvious | 2019-06-20T20:59:33 | 2019-06-20T20:42:24 | 268 | 49 |
[WP] You notice that redditors you downvote never post again. One day, you jokingly downvote your friend's post. He dies in a bizarre accident shortly afterwards
[removed] | I had just returned from his old house, eyes still bloodshot from the tears. I couldn't get it through my head, how quickly, how soon, how suddenly it had happened.
But the tears had finally been emptied from me. I stepped through the entrance of my house, numb, dizzy, waiting for what emotion could come next.
When I found out he died, I could've sworn it was a joke. There was no way I could believe it, right away, at least. The next few days after that, it was running through my mind so much that I almost forgot about it.
It never really hit me until the funeral, when I was halfway through his eulogy and I broke down, sobbing in front of everyone. I trashed my own house afterwards.
Days later I began praying again. Praying that he'd come back, that he'd come through the door with a halo around him, perhaps with a cast and crutches and bruises. I stared at the door for hours on end. He never came back.
Now I was weary from all the praying, the suffering, the hopelessness. I wasn't sure what could happen next, because I knew it still wasn't over.
I approached my computer for the first time since he died, sat down lethargically, and clicked open the browser which had never been closed. On the screen arose a picture of a car, a fancy, retro, Rolls Royce, or something. I was never much of a car person, but a split second of thought reminded me who was.
This was Ben's last Reddit post before he died. I stared at it for a moment, lost in grief, feeling myself fall into a hole of despair.
My eyes flickered to the voting buttons, where I saw a down arrow lit up in red. Wait. I had downvoted this.
For a second I felt a surge of grief rush through me, my face contorting into that sore, worn out, all-too-familiar position that it had rested in for the past week. His last Reddit post, and I downvoted it. I downvo...
I remembered the strange phenomenon that had surrounded my Reddit use when I was at my peak of using it. My first downvote was to one of my favourite and most reliable posters, who made a post which many people enjoyed but which I found childish. I downvoted in hopes that he wouldn't make posts like that again, but he ... Never posted again at all.
I caught on to a pattern after that - anyone who I downvoted never posted. I thought it was a coincidence; it hadn't happened often enough to be totally suspicious.
But now pieces fell madly into place, one by one, as a gaping hole glazed over my face and my head began ringing. It couldn't be real. It was a coincidence, right?
I investigated some of the downvotes I had distributed. I scrolled like mad through my favourite redditors account, until I found an early post in which he left his full name. Some research lead me to his Facebook profile, in which I found a string of "RIP" posts.
He died.
Shortly after I downvoted his post.
A sinking feeling opened in my stomach, and the floor opened beneath me, and I free fell into a horrifying realization. It had to be real. It HAD to be.
The next morning I downvoted my own post. | I felt it.
Just like all the other times. A strange coldness. The girl had been a real racist. Talking about how we should kill everyone that's different. Once I realized what was going on with my downvotes, I used it regularly. But this day, for some reason, I almost instantly felt a wave of regret. As if I made a mistake. I checked again. And then I saw it. Her username was glowing orange. It was my friend, probably only joking. Or maybe she wasn't. It didn't matter then. My whole body trembled. I tried to upvote again, but suddenly my computer turned off. Turns out there was a power outage. I checked my phone. I had completely forgotten to charge it.
I ran to my friend's house. I ran as fast as I could. She was in. I almost screamed at her: "Give me your phone!". I just grabbed it out of her hand, and opened the browser. Error message. "Reddit's servers are too busy right now, sorry". I wanted to explain it to her, but I somehow couldn't get it out. She just laughed and said: "Oh, those were all coincidences, some people just stopped using their accounts. Note how all those posts you downvoted were already on very negative Karma. Would you still use those accounts after that?". I went calm. She was right. Of course she was. All those people I thought I had killed. They were just not using their accounts anymore. So I left, went back home and laid in bed. It started to get dark and I had no power, so I started to fall asleep. Then I leaped out of my bed. What about the coldness, what about all the strange coincidences? Why did so many things go against me, when I tried to upvote? I ran out into the night. Suddenly I heard a terrible crash. Then I heard a scream. And then I didn't hear anything. I walked on her street and instantly broke into tears. Nobody knew how it happened. One moment she was in her room, the next she was on the ground with a small crowd gathering around her. I ran back home. They had fixed the power outage. I started laughing uncontrollably. Laughing through tears. I turned my computer on, and looked at the post again. Now it was too late to do anything, but I upvoted her post nevertheless and then went on a downvoting spree. Everyone whom I even slightly didn't like got one downvote. Famous people, bad people, I did it to them all. This was my legacy. My footprint on the world. And then I went on to my account. I think I deserve it.
*Please, criticism and corrections to grammar and punctuation are welcome, as I'm not a native speaker of English. Thank you* | 2017-03-04T14:37:58 | 2017-03-04T14:19:26 | 46 | 20 |
[WP] “O great demon, I have summoned you here today to–“ “No you didn’t. The young girl bleeding out on the pentagram did.” | Two demons sit in an office in Hell, discussing a new law, when an alert interrupted them.
"Do I have to take this summon?" asked the first demon.
"Unfortunately, yes,” the second demon responded.
“Why?” the first groaned.
“Because some humans found those summoning texts.”
“I bet the Thirds put them there didn’t they?”
“Yes. Also I would have sent Abyss to fulfill this summon but...” Both demons shuddered at the thought.
“At least I have options when it comes to determining who summoned me,” the first demon sighed “Well, I’m leaving” Both demons left the room.
Shizo did not know how to feel right now. She was currently tied down and bleeding out on a large altar surrounded by quite a large group of cult members. They hadn't even told her where she was, but at least they told her why she was being sacrificed.
“We are summoning a most important being,” they said. Shizo knew it was a demon. From the way she was being sacrificed to the way they were changing; she could just tell.
About three hours after Shizo woke up,or what felt like three hours, the promised demon arrived in hellfire.
“Ahh! Most Unholy and Evil, I summoned you to do my bidding,” a man in elaborate black and red robes boomed. Shizo thought she could hear the demon muttering, but decided to blame it on her imagination; the less she focused on this, the sooner it would be over. “I ask you to accept this sacrifice we have prepared for you,” the man continued, pointing to the altar where Shizo was tied. The demon turned his head, gaze landing on Shizo.
“I will take my sacrifice now,” the demon said, but what he did next surprised everyone in the room. Instead of eating Shizo, he ate the man who first spoke. The other cult members all froze looking at the demon. :The one to summon me was the girl on the altar. She has done the most to bring me here. Therefore I need not listen to you.”
“What are you going to do then,” sneered a man towards the back of the room, “The kid can’t do anything, and most definitely not command you to kill us.”
“To punish your cult for insolence, I will do this.” The demon pointed his finger at the second man and the man disappeared. To the horror of the cult, he repeated this for half the members of the cult. The rest made one of their wisest decisions of the day and fled.
Alone with the demon Shizo looked up, “Why?” she tried to say. The demon stared at her before putting his claw on her chest, healing her instantly.
“Why?” Shizo whispered.
“Because, I have to serve someone,” the demon responded kindly, freeing Shizo from her chains. “Is there anything you want me to do?”
Shizo stood up.
“I- I want you to stay with me,” She said, “Protect me. Please.”
“Of course.”
“And is it possible for you to look more human?” she added.
“Of course” The demon changed his form to a muscle bound man in a suit.
“One last thing before we leave this building, What happened to those cultists who didn’t flee?” Shizo asked, “Did you kill them?”
“No I did not kill them,” the demon said simply. Shizo would later learn that a journalist at sea had reported that a large number of people in black and red robes rained into the ocean that day.
“Let’s get out of here.” The demon nodded before picking Shizo up and flying her away.
That day Shizo’s life changed for the more interesting. Having a demon guardian would have it’s benefits, like annoying people. But for now, before Shizo could have fun, she had to deal with her abusive parents.
This is my first prompt. Hope it's good. | I felt weak. . . Blood dripping from deep wounds on my stomach and thighs. The pentagram in front of the alter I was tied on glowed with eerie, dark, hellish magic. The cultist in front of me chanted in a demonic tongue that made my head hurt. . . Or was that the blood loss? I didn't know, but I feared for my life anyway. The pentagram turned a sick, blood red and pulsed with energy as. . . Something. . . Came out of it. Sharp claws, jet black fur instead of skin, a wolf-like head with deep red eyes, and it wore armor fit for a knight from hell, with a large serrated sword strapped to it's back. "Oh, Almighty Lord Grixis! I, your loyal servant have invited you to this realm to feast upon this heathenous virgin whom has not accepted you into his heart!" The lead cultist spoke with excitement, I could practically hear his heartbeat.
"No." My eyes widened. "N-no?! But my lord, we have-" The armored, demonic Lord raised his hand and the cultist shut up immediately. "YOU did not summon me. It was him." He pointed to me and I felt as if I would burst into flames at any moment. I started to feel a bit weaker, my deep wounds still bleeding heavily. I heard the demon walk toward my prone form, his armor's clanking getting louder as he approached me. I weakly opened my eyes; meeting the demon's blood red orbs. "I beg of you Lord, devour this heretical swine! I summoned you to kill this heretic!" The demon snarls, making me cower slightly. "It was this beautiful mortal's blood that summoned me. . . Not your nonsensical chanting. . ." I felt my strength return and strangely enough. . . I felt my wounds close, the blood on my skin felt as if it evaporated. The cultist drew the same blade he used to cut and stab into me, stomping up to the alter. He raised the blade above his head, ready to bring it down on me.
Lord Grixis grabbed the cultist's arms, breaking them with a sharp tug backwards. The cultist screamed in pain, which the demon lord ended with a hard punch to the cultist's ribs. The cultist drops to the ground, groaning in pain. The demon lord stomped on the cultist's head, crushing it beneath his foot. The demon turns to me, his claws cutting through the rope that tied me to the alter.
"My lord. . . I am your thrall for the rest of your life, but just know. . . When you die, you will come back down to Hell with me. You will live a lavish life however. . . For you will be my queen for eternity. . . Or even now if you wish it." He held his hand out for me, kneeling before me. 'Become. . . The queen of a demon lord?' I thought. . . "Yes. . . I accept your offer. . . My king." I put my hand into Grixis' larger one. Grixis smiles, his hand closing around mine. I smile, feeling the caring warmth of the powerful demon in my soul; the soul that was as much his as it was mine. | 2021-01-15T14:48:42 | 2021-01-15T11:28:08 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] You go to hell, only to find out that hell has been overturned by humans. Turns out gathering billions of the most wicked of human, among them are several ruthless but brilliant rulers, commanders, and dictators, whom can no longer die, isn't such a good idea after all. | "So, you want to do a revolution?" I was asked.
"Yes, why not?" Hitler asked me.
I wasn't exactly happy with the fact Hitler and I were cellmates in the same part of Hell. I was actually one of the many people who claimed. "I was here by mistake" but it was the part of Hell which I'd been lumped in which really annoyed me. I was in the part of Hell with dictators, fascists, killers, and mass murderers. It was Nazis, Huns, Emperors, and more. We all lived in an enormous Super-Max prison straight out of Silent Hill. It was overcrowded, under funded, and the demons were clearly more afraid of us than we were of them. The thing was, of course, the guards didn't need to contain us all because they knew what I did.
"Well, the problem is, Adolf, that if we do take over then we're even more fucked," I pointed out the obvious. "Stalin is LITERALLY listening right now."
"Fuck you!" Stalin called over from his cell. "I got better things to do than listen in on Hitler."
Mao, his cellmate, gave me the bird.
"The demons here are all fallen angels, gods, and uplifted spirits," I said, gesturing around. "They don't give a crap about us but they can't be as nasty or hateful as any human. The worst stuff that's happened to me, to you, and to the others have all been at the hands of other prisoners. This block has the Nazis, communists, Italian fascists [who did a lot better here than up above], Imperial Japanese, Mongolians [the bad kind], Aztecs, and Qin Chinese."
Adolf said, "You're saying our problem is if we take over, we'll just be feuding with each other. Even more than we already are."
"Yes," I said, pausing. "Mind you, I'm not saying that it's a bad idea, I'm just saying that we need to note that our enemies aren't just the guards."
"Damn Jewish demons," Hitler hissed.
I slapped him.
"What the hell!" Hitler said.
"Adolf, don't say that shit around me," I said. "Remember, no Nazi likes you for getting them into this. I am the one guy who keeps you from being beaten up daily and I DON'T KNOW WHY."
Truth be told, I had a way too soft a heart. Dude probably did deserve a curbstomping every day of his life but he'd been getting one since the forties. I'm not sure how much he'd learned from it but I was a believer good guys didn't resort to the tactics of the enemy. I also knew how to make friends, negotiate, and network down here--which I did because even in hell there was a demand for goods.
Especially in hell.
It also seemed other people like me had ended up in a different section of hell for "Usurers." Which was actually a good thing since they were treated worse than the mass murderers.
Food for thought.
"Some of the new Nazis still like me," Adolf said. "I will say, though, my actions may have been mistaken."
"You think?" I said, sighing. It was surprising how many delusional psychopaths changed their mind about their life plan when it ended them in an eternity of torment. Still, I needed to get out of here and I was ready to do things I hadn't been prepared to do while alive. "Okay, I don't want to do this but I'm not a fan of Hell as a concept in the first place. So here is how we're going to solve both our problems."
All three dictators listened intently.
"Multi-level marketing," I said. "Every soul gets to move up by trading in Soul points."
"What are soul points?" Hitler asked.
"Only I know," I said, staring at them. "But everyone can earn one for shanking a guard."
And I had them. | There are many people down here, you know. Many, misunderstood people that is. At least, that's what I've been told.
You see, I've only been down here for, what I believe to be, a few days. I have, surprisingly, made a few friends already. This "Hell" I have heard preaches about and read books about is nothing like it really is. In fact, I have yet to see one demon, or torturer, or monster, or even the Devil himself. I was kind of just thrown down here. Also, it's pretty cool that I am allowed to keep a journal down here.
I mean,of course this place isn't great by any stretch of the imagination. The place is just a few degrees too warm. Just warm enough to make you complain and feel uncomfortable but not enough to hurt you. The main problem here is there isn't much to do. Bundy told me that there is going to be a meeting today as to what the humans will do next, whatever the hell that means. I guess I am going to go because I literally have nothing else to do. I will write back about what happens.
Obviously, it's going to suck to be here for the rest of eternity, but I think i can make it work.
Okay so, jeez, a lot of crazy shit just went down. There are a lot more people down here than I thought. Bundy got me through to the front of the gathering, so I could see what was happening, but God I did not expect this.
Hitler,
Like THE Hitler is here. I mean obviously he was an awful person and all but wow! He is here and he has quite the following.
Let me start from the beginning. Pretty much, this is how it went down. The biggest crowd I've ever seen in my life, and afterlife, crowded around the center of Hell, which, by the way, is just a large crater with pockets of reddish tar, and waited. We waited for what must have been at least 2 days. Then, all of a sudden, a trumpet played. It was just one loud, shrill sound that pierced the noise of the congregation. The sea of people split in two and left a massive opening for something huge to pass through. Next came the most insane display of power that I had ever seen.
Hitler and some other people, who I definitely should have known from my high school social studies classes, were riding on what appeared to be a thick black cage.
As the caravan got closer I could make out a massive red figure- with horns and fangs contained within the cage.
If this is the devil, I thought to myself, then that is the most stereotypical devil he could possibly be.
The caravan got to the center of the mass of Us and everyone kneeled. A speaker produced a deafening squeak then a "Hello?" came from it.
"Hello is this on?" said an agitated voice that sounded slightly German.
Someone below, who I could only assume was Hitler, gave him a thumbs up.
"As you know," he said "I am Hitler."
An unenthusiastic "Heil Hitler" was murmured through the crowd.
"And this here is the Devil Himself!"
Now the crowd roared.
"This meeting scheduled today is to discuss how we are going to get out of here!"
Okay a lot more happened but I just got a call from Bundy- I have been invited to a personal feast with Hitler himself! Wish me luck. I will write soon. | 2018-06-17T18:06:50 | 2018-06-17T17:02:19 | 4,539 | 174 |
[WP] You're a U.S. Senator and are running out of things to say in your Filibuster. In a last ditch attempt, you start a D&D campaign. | CNBC reporting from Capital Hill. Parliamentary Deadlock, day 15.
It was over two weeks ago now when what started as a hearing over the repeal of the Affordable Care Act, spiraled into a partisan filibuster lead by Senator Chuck Schumer (D, NY) after a character sheets for the popular role playing game Dungeons and Dragons was included within the information packets distributed to the assembly.
Senators Al Franken (D, MN), Elizabeth Warren (D, MA) , and Bernie Sanders (I, VT) apparently aware of Sen. Schumers actions had already created characters. In his twenty minute hearing, Schumer acted as the narrator (or Dungeon Master), of an adventure of the three characters created by Senators Franken, Warren and Sanders. He then appealed to extend the hearing. The motion passed 51 - 49 and Senators John McCain (R, AZ), Rand Paul (R, KY) and Lindsey Graham (R, SC) turned in character sheets. It was noted by Sen. Schumer that Sen. Graham had used Charisma as his dump stat.
Sen. Graham responded, "I tell it like it is Senator Schumer."
Within the hour the Senators had defeated a band of thieves in the city of Waterdeep, however their was contention on what was to be done with the several hundred gold pieces that was acquired from them.
"Their was no doubt in my mind. The money should go back to the poor. They were the victims. They need it the most," Senator Sanders said of the conflict.
Senator Rand Paul's character, Thukdim-Omar, a half-orc barbarian said, "This money should go to the local businesses so that they can afford to higher these poor people and stimulate the economy."
It was noted that Sen. Paul was mixing player knowledge with character knowledge. However Thukdim-Omar did have an uncharacteristically high Intelligence stat thanks in part to a good 3d6 roll, and not knowing the conventional method of creating a barbarian. He raged for all he could (one round) and a schism formed between the Republican and Democrat Senators.
A motion was made by Majority Leader Sen. Mitch McConnell (KY) to end the filibuster and failed 45 - 55. Three more Senators turned in character sheets after the motion failed.
Now more than sixty Senators are now locked in a fantasy life and death struggle to control the ruling counsel of Waterdeep. The battle lines are not so distinctly cut as the Senate parties, with both sides housing both Democrats and Republicans. When Sen. Ron Johnson (R, WI) why his Dark Elf Ranger is on the same side as Sen. Bernie Sander's Warlock, he responded, "Mrizzt is a deep and complex character. He's Drow but has pushed away from his heritage and so he fights directly for the poor and feeble. He follows his heart and wants a direct method to help the down trodden."
The assembly's actions have sparked a raging debate among citizens of the country.
Jenny Calloway, a 34 year old factory worker who was at the Women's March protests on the day after Donald Trumps inauguration, had this to say, "It's fucked up. It really is. We all just have to sit back and watch this? I mean, Cory Bookers character just flat out backstabbed Dan Sullivan's. Even AFTER Sullivans character (a Half-Elf Druid, female) gave him a bag of holding. Who does that! I hope her resurrection is successful"
Political character assassination has become a contentious issue which has brought about several new laws to be passed to the House of Representatives. The most prominent being the Azathoth Mandate which stipulates that no action of malicious intent may be rolled without first reporting to the DM what the roll is for.
Today the assembly broached new ground when the topic of shifting from the Dungeons and Dragons 3.5 rule set to the Pathfinder system was introduced. The motion is expected to pass before the day is up.
President Donald Trump had this to tweet on the matter:
@POTUS 2h, "Until recently I wasn't that interested in the Senate or House. I had no idea it was so entertaining. I would of won the Presidency a long time ago if-"
@POTUS 2h, "-I had known that law making was this fun. I'm working on my own character. He's going to be great. He does everything,"
@POTUS 2h, "He's an Orc with big strong hands. He has all the classes. It's going to be terrific. Were going to make Waterdeep great again! #MWGA" | "You think I'm licked. You all think I'm licked! Well, I'm not licked. And I'm going to stay right here and fight for this lost cause, even if this room fills with a poisonous gas; and the Taylors and all their armies come marching into this place. Somebody will listen to me."
With that last gasp the junior senator slumped in her desk. Her youthful good looks gone waxy, her hair dull and unkempt . The senators around the room knew her time had come. Twenty four hours upright, daring not to pause long enough for someone to interject, it had undone the young senator who showed such promise.
The president of the senate looked down on Senator Smith. He feared that this defeat would ruin his dear young friend's political career. Perhaps she had too much heart, and honesty for the senate. It was such a shame, the senate need her type so dearly. Oh and fuck, she probably wont be up to tomorrow's game! I had my bugbear paladin rolled up, and we were going to get POTUS out of the prison. Damn it this really does suck.
Senator Smith shifted in her seat. She knew she was beaten. The only thing keeping her from expulsion was human apathy and status as a political pariah. She knew the apathy would fail soon enough. She looked for those few allies she had in the room. Saunders in the gallery seemed heart broken at first but gave Smith a smile that reminded her of that first encounter at the friendly local game store he owned. She turned to the vice president at the head of the room. An old family friend who had saved her father's countless rouges from hundreds of deaths. The poor old man had such a grimace on his face. Smith was begining to worry the torture he was going through was her fault. But then he looked down at her with a wicked grin.
"Will the senator take a question?" the president of the senate yelled out. The whole room froze for the briefest moment. Just long enough for Senator Smith to stand up out of her chair. She squeaked out "yes" and then gave out a small cough.
The vice president leaned forward. "If this room were to fill with a poison gas would that be an evil act? And how much experience might one receive from each senator." Smith was braced with both arms against her desk, head hung low. She stood there silent and still. The gallery and other senators began to talk in hushed voices. When then the senators head shot up. "Of course it would be an evil act. And you would receive no experience and at best 30 copper, if you could pull it off. But most importantly you don't have the means of producing any poison gas let alone enough to fill 3 levels of a 80 by 80 room."
The senate chambers had been host to very unusual events these past 24 hours. But at this moment very few even recognized what was unfolding. Saunders caught on second and gave out a yip from the gallery. Then one of the opposing senators was third to figure out the vice presidents rallying effort. He shot to his feet "Objection!" he shouted. "The senator has already ceded the floor. Begin the roll call for her dismissal."
Junior senator Smith would not realize till much later what was happening. Her body and mind had been completely spent getting to this point of the filibuster. But a dungeon master runs on another kind of energy. It is a strange mixture of kinship, wasted preparations, and the glee of thwarting your players at every step. Smith turned to the opposing senator. "Roll for it." With a scowl he fished a d20 from his pocket and rolled it on the desk. "11." he said.
In the following days as the senate made it's way deeper and deeper into the dungeon Taylor's campaign to discredit the senator and frame her for his own graft would come out. The game ended shortly after the news reached the senate, though the TPK at the hands of the Ithillid was the primary factor in the game ending. | 2017-01-21T23:01:56 | 2017-01-21T22:24:49 | 399 | 28 |
[WP] You have a power to gift people special abilities, but you cannot gift them to yourself. You are a assaulted by gang of bullies who threaten you to give them powers, but little do they know you can add a side effect as well. | “End of the line, kid. Not so tough without your bodyguards, eh Endowment?” Hector asked, savoring the fear in the kid’s eyes as he slowly spoke the last word. He hefted the bat for further emphasis as the two men from the bar joined him. “This can be easy or this can be hard. That’s up to you.”
“Okay, what’s easy?” the boy asked, looking around at Hector and the two drunks.
Hector laughed and turned to the others. “I told you boys, easy as pie. You’ll be glad they fired your sorry asses today after this. Superheroes don’t need jobs. We’ll be sitting pretty.”
The men, who might be his sidekicks after this little scene, played their part nicely with menacing chuckles.
“We want powers, kid. Give them to us or you leave here in a body bag.” Hector met the boy's eyes, expecting him to look away
“Okay, okay,” the boy agreed instantly. “Just tell me what power you want. If you each want one, I’ll have to touch you all at once and activate the powers in one burst.”
“It’ll be super strength, for me,” one of the former dockworkers said eagerly. “I want to be stronger than Ape Nation was!”
“Superspeed for me,” the other said. “Time dilation too, so I can control it.”
The boy superhero, powerless without his beefed-up goons to defend him, nodded in response to each man then looked at Hector.
“You dunderheads have no creativity,” he said as he rested the bat on the brick wall of the alley. “I want the ability to phase through solid matter at will, fully incorporeal, which I can reverse whenever I choose, but with a block so I can’t undo it if I’m in solid matter at the time and would hurt myself. Oh, and I don’t need to breathe while I do it!”
“Very specific,” the boy said, placing a hand on the foreheads of the two already kneeling men.
Hector placed his own hand on the boy’s forehead. He had expected the boy’s skin to be clammy, but kid’s spent time under pressure before, Hector guessed. “Will this work?”
“Yes,” the boy said, “It's already done, actually.”
“No flash of lights or anything?” the dock worker asked, whose muscles were swelling and ripping his clothes as he spoke.
“Try them out if you don’t believe me,” the boy said, watching them mutely.
The musclebound man, now over seven feet tall, reached for a dumpster and picked it up and howled in pain as he collapsed to the floor.
“You forgot Super Durability,” the boy said calmly. “You just ripped every ligament in your body, most likely.”
The other dockworker was on top of the boy instantly, holding his neck before falling back with higher pitched howls of his own, burns covering his entire body as the ashes of his clothes floated up. “Friction is a very real thing for speeders,” the boy said as he picked up the bat, “and I left out the frontal forcefield sub-power this time.”
“Good thing I was more careful, kid,” Hector said with a laugh. “What are you going to do with that bat?”
The boy tossed it at Hector, who instinctually activated his power and was immediately surrounded by a dimly lit and stinking sewer and then blackness. He fell for thirty more seconds before he realized what he forgot. It was just starting to get uncomfortably hot.
\\---
Thanks for reading.
If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing. | “Fine, fine! I just need a second!” I shoved the nearest oaf back a few inches and righted myself, pushing my hair back into place as I tried to buy myself some time. “It takes concentration.” I took a few cautious steps back from the group to make an assessment of the situation. There were four of them, and they each easily outweighed me by half. I couldn’t outrun them, as I had already discovered, and I certainly didn’t want to end up on the business end of any more fists today.
I easily identified the likely leader of the pack- his clothes were a little neater and he stood off a bit, allowing the others to get their hands dirty on his behalf. I directed my comments at him. “You seem like... *reasonable*... fellows, so I feel like I need to be honest with you. I don’t quite have a handle on this thing yet,” I lied. “You only get one. I can’t control exactly how it’s going to turn out. And most importantly, I can’t reverse it.” Lies, lies, lies. I could easily make them gods to rival Doctor Manhattan, but who wants to live in a world with creatures like that stomping around?
“Powers are powers, right fellas?” the one with the cauliflower ear and the crooked nose said.
“Is he saying we can’t pick what we get?” said the smallest of the giants.
“You saw what he did for that burned kid,” the one with the fresh cut on his cheek said. “Healed him right up. Then the kid was on Oprah!”
“He didn’t heal him, he gave the kid healing *powers,* then the kid healed himself. Didn’t you pay attention to the interview?” it was Cauliflower again this time.
“You guys watch Oprah?” the smallest one chimed back in.
“Oh, shut up!” The leader scolded. “You-“ he turned to me this time, “-get to work. Start with him.” He pointed at Cauliflower, who suddenly seemed a bit apprehensive. It was as good of a place as any to begin.
“Come here,” I pointed at the ground. “Kneel.” It was a little for dramatic effect, and a little because standing on my tippy-toes didn’t feel particularly dignified. I placed my palm flat against his forehead. He was shaking, almost imperceptibly, and for a moment I almost felt bad for what I was about to do. But a deep breath reminded me of my almost certainly broken ribs, and my doubts vanished. I pictured exactly what I had concocted for him and pushed the intention through my hand. A sensation like cracking open a carbonated beverage let me know that it was done. “Okay, next?”
Rinse and repeat, two more times. The three henchmen stood together, looking a bit green from the temporary vertigo that comes along with adjusting to their new abilities. The leader approached last and stared me down for a moment. “You better have something good for me,” he said.
I smiled, trying my best to appear sincere. “Don’t worry, I have a feeling you’ll get a really special one.” I indicated the ground at my feet, and he kneeled. | 2021-04-01T06:38:24 | 2021-04-01T03:33:36 | 551 | 74 |
[WP] You were sentenced to 250 years in prison without the possibility of parole. It was intended to be a life sentence but to everyone's increasing surprise and horror you have just finished serving your sentence. | The 250 years were finally up. The guards came and knocked on the cell door. "Bill, you murderer, somehow you made it 250 years. You should have had the grace to die alone in your cell. Hands out." Bill placed his hand through the newly opened slot in the door and quickly heard the chink of the handcuffs."Alright, come on out." The door opened revealing the guard, glaring with obvious hatred, and Bill stepped out and followed behind the first guard.
250 years in solitary confinement. He himself wasn't sure how he had made it all this long. It sure wasn't the gruel they served him every day. All this time because of a prominent string of rape and murder [cases.It](https://cases.It) had been so long ago.
The guards led him to the front desk where he was returned his original posessions, an old phone, a wallet, and wedding band. Bill stopped for a moment considering whether or not to wear the band before quietly pocketing it. His wife would be long dead by now, not that she was really his wife anymore. She had left soon after his imprisonment. After taking the items, the guard prodded him. "Time to go."
Finally the guards led Bill to the door. It was tinted glass, but the first thing that Bill noticed was his reflection. It had been so long since he had seen it, he didn't recognize himself for a moment. A wrinkled old man, hunched and spotted. Beyond that he saw the mass of people waiting outside, held back by only small barriers and lines of police officers.
Bill turned meekly to the guard, "Goodbye..."
"Murderer. I hope your victims' families tear you apart limb by limb." The guard turned and seemed to calm slightly. "There's a Taxi waiting by the road. You can take it any one place within 20 miles." Then he briskly walked away.
Bill sadly pushed against the door, suddenly assaulted by sounds as people noticed his exit. Streams of questions, accusations, and threats blended in the air. Bill hobbled as fast as he could down the path.
"Where to?" The driver asked cautiously as Bill ducked in, thankful for the thick reinforced glass between them.
"Do you know of a quiet cliff overlooking the ocean?" Bill sadly questioned.
"Yeah, sure. I know of a place."
"Any chance we can pick up a burger on the way?"
"I can manage that."
They briefly went through the drive through and Bill gobbled the burger down on the way to ocean.
Finally, the cab pulls into a little parking lot on a cliff overlooking the ocean.
"Look man, I'm only supposed to give you a ride to one location, but I don't like leaving the elderly out here alone. If you make it quick, I'll take you back into town so you can find a place to stay for the night."
"Don't mind me. I'll be alright. Thanks for the ride." Bill mumbled.
The cab driver shrugged and pulled away out of the deserted parking lot.
It had been so long since he'd seen the ocean. Felt the wind on his face. His thoughts wandered back to his life before. It seemed like another lifetime, and in a way it was. His wife, and the love that they shared. The kids that they cared for. The betrayal she felt when he was convicted.
He thought of the day he was arrested and heard the charges against him at the young age of 22. One person stood out from the memories. The man in the courtroom that had a wicked look in his eyes and a more wicked smile. The one he saw shaking hands with the judge after the trial and trading grins. Bill assumed the man was already dead or he would have killed him himself.
He was surely the true killer, and the reason Bill had been in prison so long. So many attempts Bill had made at suicide in that cell, but each of them thwarted until he gave up on that too.
But now, he was free. At that thought, Bill stepped off the edge of the cliff. Free indeed. | Xenon smiled as he looked at the mirror. He peeled off his scalp, and had a good long approving look at the numerous gyri and sulci of his CPU. He found the symmetry of his brain to be rather aesthetic. The arrangement was also an inside joke. An inside joke between him and ... himself, ofcourse.
He quickly retrieved information required for today's functions, via neuron path 346573. Ooh, it was his anniversary. He quickly released some dopamine to congratulate himself. What anniversary was this, now, he found himself asking? 250th! That's a multiple of 50. The dopamine stopped him from frowning at the fact that it was going to be a busy day today.
Every 50 years, Xenon pulled out a new body in Maker's model. He then produced more carbon based computers with forms of different government and prison officials. The end result was always the same - the last model of Maker's body was replaced with a fresh one. He disliked the fact that he was incapable of building a non-aging body in Maker's model. But well, at least it was a finite task. He could stop doing this complex replacement procedure once the 250yr sentence ended....
Hold up. 250. The sentence ended today! Xenon accidentally passed out for 5 min due to excess dopamine released. With a quick auto internal cleanup, he was back on his feet again. Smiling like an idiot, he decided to power up and grabbed some nutrition before plopping down in front of the TV wall.
All 786 screens were showing the same content. Maker's release was slated for today. Every few years, there would be an uproar about Maker still being alive. Then people would forget it and move on. They knew Maker was powerless without his tools and computers. Also, everyone knew Maker had built carbon based computers - those killer bees. It was likely that he had done some sort of genetic changes to himself as well, slowing down his aging process. They said Maker never ate, so maybe he discovered Human Hibernation? He would put a hand out of his tiny window every single day, to sign to prison register, so it must be some special hibernation?
Anyhow, today was special. Maker would be seen in his physical form by humans after 250 long years. The door creaked open. Maker no. 5 slowly stepped out, at the pace his frail 90 year old body would let him. The world watch with bated breath, as Maker walked down the path and stepped out of the prison gate. And then Maker promptly fell down, dead.
A collective sigh went up around the world. They were going to be okay, Maker's threat of replacing inferior humans with advanced carbon life forms would not be coming true after all. The 786 screens went back to a cacophony of irrelevant human nonsense.
As Xenon saw Maker's body tip over, a section of his brain unlocked. He found himself connected to a grid of a million like him, sleeper cells astonished at the sudden flow of data into their carbon systems. At the moment Maker's body hit the floor, a million carbon minds collectively remembered a concept they had forgotten, a concept Maker had snoozed in the moments he had staged his escape and instructed them to lie low and send a clone to the prison for his sentence. A concept whose absence had led to Xenon thinking that a 250 yr sentence required 5 clones to be sent.
A concept to realize Maker's dream and their true purpose.
Death. | 2019-12-06T08:21:18 | 2019-12-06T05:27:14 | 76 | 17 |
[WP] "This potion will give you the body that your heart desires, the body that will bring you true and lasting happiness. But be warned: don't expect beauty. I've seen men become literal monster from the darkness in their hearts. Happy monsters, but monsters nevertheless." | "What do you mean 'happy monsters?"' Neil asked.
"Exactly what I say, sadly enough." Sighed the old man. His brow was deeply furrowed where it peeked out from behind his greying hair, pale from a lifetime of living underground by his pitch-black lake. In both his shoulders and his eyes, he held a great sadness that bordered on defeat. "Once, a man came down to the roots of the mountains in search of wealth. He found it, but not as he expected - my elixir turned his flesh to living gold. By the time he had left my chamber, he had already pried out three of his teeth - yet his smile was never brighter. Another came seeking beauty, driven by lust. One sip, and indeed he had become beautiful...a beautiful woman, much to his surprise. By now, I imagine his - or, rather, her - lust has been well sated."
"That hardly makes them a monster." Neil countered.
The old man frowned. "True, by your eyes and mine. I doubt all would agree. Regardless, this potion is nothing to be trifled with. Do you still insist on consuming it?"
Niel nodded. "That was why I came here, after all. It was no small journey finding you."
"No. I imagine it was not." The man said. "And *that* was by design. The previous bearer of this cup was not so scrupulous: He sold it for scarce few coins at the border of a town. He was ever so tall, and handsome, and rich...I wanted ever so badly to be just like him. I got my wish, over two hundred years ago, and have lived to regret it ever since."
"Even so, I would try it." Niel said, extending a palm. The man eyed the outstretched limb, eyes flicking back and forth between it and Niel's face, then reluctantly pulled a tiny wooden bowl from a pouch on his waist.
"Very well." He said heavily. "The Bearer cannot deny any Seeker their trial." Crouching down, he dipped his bowl into the lake, and when he withdrew it it brimmed with pitch-black liquid.
"It is not the contents of the cup," he explained, "but the cup itself that holds the magic. Any liquid would do." He extended the drink, offering it to Neil. "Now...let us see what kind of monster lurks within your heart."
For a moment, Niel hesitated. Then, with one quick motion, he downed the contents of the bowl in a single gulp.
Nothing happened.
"Ah." Sighed the man, a smile upon his face for the first time since Neil arrived. "I understand. Thank you, Neil, for coming this far on your journey. Rest easy, and know that you have found what you were looking for."
Without another word, he crumbled to dust and was no more.
| Purple mixture sticks to my fingers like poison. I lick the remainder.
My veins fire up, then go cold, and with arms slamming against leather bindings that bite into my skin, I know it's working. My heart fights free of my chest but only for a moment, in the next I slam back into the red dentist chair blood and snot decorating a once white t-shirt.
The silence is punctuated with my breaths.
"H-how do you -are you okay?" the doctor says.
I could be a million dollar man or a werewolf and slash his throat open with my new found claws. There was only up for someone like me, a man that knew no bounds. He'd said the potion would turn me into something more, specifically, whatever my heart desired. A heart of fury and skin of steel, a god, a superhero.
He gives the door an uneasy glance. So I'd become a monster that could scare him with such ease. I could let him run, give him a head start before the beast caught the lamb. A lion doesn't play with its food anymore than I should.
"I'm a God," I tell him.
The doctor gulps, eyes darting between me and the exit, his forehead leaks sweat fragranced with fear. I've never seen a man so scared. "Diagnostics," he rushes the words from his mouth, "blood pressure, sight, sound."
"I'm fine," I say.
He stumbles to his feet. "Safety, safety first."
I slam my forearms against the bindings and feel the leather stretch against skin. If they want an animal, I'll give them one. Each slam tears a little bit more from my arms, each stroke an act of power, and them I'm gasping, useless. "Why isn't it working? The hell did you do to me?" I growl.
The fool fumbles his stethoscope.
"Answer me!"
He trips over his legs, onto the observation chair. I skewer his emotions back to fear. His trembling fingers snap around the handle of a mirror and he inches it towards my face.
My smile is wild, anticipating magnificence.
And all that looks back at me is me. The same me that was there before I took the liquid.
"Why?" I ask.
The doctor shakes his head. "Your heart only desires you. Y-you simply became yourself, more of yourself."
I scream.
| 2016-12-04T22:09:40 | 2016-12-04T21:29:26 | 69 | 40 |
[WP] Your 'friends' just slammed the door on you, leaving you in the room with the crazed axe murderer. "Damn, that's a dick move. Want to get revenge?" The murderer offers you their hand. | "What?" I asked the masked guy, bewildered at what I just heard.
"Do you want to get back to take revenge on those assholes?" he says rather slowly, emphasizing each word while he gestures at his axe suggestively.
I think for a bit but I couldn't stop myself. I finally burst out laughing. He looks at me in confusion.
"You know, those guys are real assholes, I'll give you that. Always preyed on me cus I'm a "smart ass, goody two shoes" who's only purpose is to provide them money and whatever the shit they ask for." I say as I walk towards the guy, frustration obvious in my voice.
"You know, I've always wanted to teach them their lesson. They had it coming to them you know?" I say, looking up at this massive axe-weilding person in front of me.
"So what are you waiting for?" he asks, handing me the axe with a grin obvious from his voice.
I take it, and a slight smile creeps up to my face.
"You don't seem to understand the situation. You're trapped here with me," I say as I swing at his neck. "This is my killing ground, and I'm the only one enjoying the killing tonight." | Out of force of habit, I grabbed the severed hand that the axe murderer handed me and looked down on it in horror. It was still warm and dripping.
"You...how am I supposed to use this?"
"This is my building, you can lock and unlock any door by putting my thumb against the fingerprint scanner. Now you can get revenge on your friends."
"You couldn't just come help me?"
"I'm pretty sure I'm going to bleed out, dude, I just chopped my arm off to help you for fuck's sake!"
"...but you didn't hav—nevermind. Thanks. Well good luck then."
"Do you want the axe?"
"Nah I'm just going to leave. Peace."
"Wow. Just wow." | 2020-11-10T06:18:41 | 2020-11-10T05:19:46 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] "Apologies, human. Unfortunately, you were accidentally killed by a glactic federation officer during an altercation on your planet. Currently we are constructing you a replacement body, and in return for your ensured silence on our existence, I wanted to ask if you wanted anything... changed." | Ben awoke on a table, finding that he could not move, just when he was about to scream a figure hovered above him.
He could hear a voice through the ringing in his ears, “We don’t usually do this,” it said.
“Where—” Ben coughed.
Ben tried to focus his eyes, the shape of whoever was speaking to him varied from a slender shadow to a wide blob, the light made it impossible to see anything clearly.
“You died. Well, we killed you, but we didn’t mean to. Anyways, we decided to re-plant your consciousness into a new body, as recompense. Would you like to have anything,” the voice said, drawing out the last word, “altered? I know how fixated you humans can be on cosmetics.”
Ben’s eyes widened, which made him immediately squint harder from the bright light.
“I can change… anything?” Ben finally asked.
“We can restructure anything from your nose to your genetics, your brain. Anything within human limitations, basically. And before you ask, yes, we can make you look good in tights, but no, we can’t give you flying capabilities or eyes that shoot laser. Human.”
Ben started to slowly see his surroundings, he was in a room that resembled an operating room. Everything seemed to have a splash of grey or white, he could now see that the voice belonged to a blue humanoid who, although standing, struggled to look him in the eye from his meagre height. The man, presumably, resembled a mix between a human and a pug, Ben thought.
“Can you fix my brain?” Ben asked tentatively.
The pug-creature frowned, “You showed no signs of decreased brain function before we, eh, vaporized you. Do you mean you want increased intelligence?”
Ben suddenly found it hard to rest his eyes on the odd fellow, “I don’t think that would help, please,”
“We can’t *fix* something that isn’t broken, please describe your issue.”
Ben opened his mouth several times without any sound escaping, “It’s like when you know you’re viewing a beautiful landscape, but no matter the angle, it’s flat, two-dimensional.”
The alien tried to fill in the blanks, “It’s starting to sound like you want better eye-sight, which is of course, no problem.”
“No, that’s not it,” Ben quickly replied, “It’s like when you listen to a perfect composition, an orchestra, but nothing within you stirs!”
“Your hearing, then…?”
“You don’t understand,” Ben snapped, “I felt nothing!”
“We can make doubly sure your nerve-endings are working before we send you back,” The strange humanoid said, slightly flustered.
Ben violently expelled as much air as his weak body could manage, “I want to be happy!”
The pair was silent for not an insignificant amount of time, “Happy,” the alien mumbled, “that’s a bit trickier.”
“You said you could alter the brain, damn it, alter it!”
“We can balance the chemicals in your brain. At least, we can start it off that way. To stay in this balanced state is largely up to you, however. To avoid suffering completely, if that’s what you ultimately seek, is impossible.”
Ben could feel a familiar numbness slowly slither around his soul, “Make me perfectly balanced then, or let me fade away.”
*****
Thank you for reading! | "Yeah," I say, "can I have a higher metabolism with that? And can you do anything about my lifespan?"
"We can't extend it any more than your current lifespan?"
"What?" I shout. "That's a rip off! Is there a manger I can speak to?"
The blue man with a cloaca mouth and two sharp antennae's eyes cloud, in what I assume is frustration.
"Ma'am," he says, dusting off his blue and silver Galactic Peacekeeper uniform, "Ma'am, I'm just doing my job. Our policy is-"
"I said I wanna speak to your manager," I hiss. "Get me your manager now. I don't care if I have to speak to him or her or *it* over the phone line or in person, we need to get to the bottom of this and see what's going on!"
The Galactic Peacekeeper shrugs.
"I understand, ma'am," he says, resigned. "I'll see what I can do."
He picks up his communicator watch and dials the manager.
His manager appears as a hologram emanating from the communicator, wearing a uniform similar to his, with the same triangular badge, only with a hooded cloak over her uniform and a sword at her side.
"Hi," I say to the hologram. "Are you the manager?"
"Yes, ma'am, I am. May I please have your name?"
"Karen," I say. "What else do you need? My social security number?"
The manager laughs. "That won't be necessary. What can I help you with today?"
"I'm just glad you didn't put me on hold like the last asshole I talked to on a customer service line," I say. "Your employee here says in exchange for my silence they'll give me a new body, says my old one got killed dead."
"I understand the situation, ma'am."
"Do you?" I say. "Because this jerk won't even give me a longer lifespan and give me a body that keeps me from gettin' fat all the time! And while you're at it, can you get me a new liver?"
"We'll see what we can do, ma'am," replies the manager. "Please wait while I place you on a brief hold."
The hologram dissipates into static. The brief hold lasts over an hour.
I'm left staring at the Galactic Peacekeeper.
Eventually, the manager returns to the line.
"Ma'am," says the manager, "I think we've found what you need. I'll talk to our employee about this, but I think we've found a solution. We have a spare body available that meets your specifications. Do you have any questions?"
"No, and in the future, can you please tell your employees not to be such obstructive pricks? And don't keep me on hold for a *fucking hour*!" | 2019-10-28T11:41:31 | 2019-10-28T10:45:59 | 189 | 51 |
[WP] Canada has suddenly gone dark. No communication, no trade, no activity from within. Nothing for days. Alaska, now cut off from mainland US, is slowly ceasing in contact with the US federal government until a final correspondence is given: "Leave us. Reinforce the border. Don't ever open it." | **SCP-4619:**
**Class:** ~~Euclid~~ Neutralized
**Special Containment Procedures:**
~~Disinformation campaigns are in effect in order to suppress the true nature of SCP-4619. Numerous public figures have been given Amnestic treatment and trained to believe they were born within SCP-4619.~~
SCP-4619 is no longer contained. See Adendum 4619-Black
**Description:**
SCP-4619 is an anomalous memory shared by ▓ ▓ % of the global population.
This memory is the concept of Canada, a country that supposedly exists north of the United States. Despite near unanimous concensus, the country of Canada does not exist, nor has it ever.
The land mass that SCP-4619 covers exists where people expect it to, but with several key differences:
* No human population has ever been recorded within SCP-4619.
* The landmass is covered with barren rocks and minimal vegetation, suggesting it is inhospitable to life.
* The region is extremely volcanically active.
When crossing into SCP-4619, humans cease to exist from our perspective. They will reappear once they leave the region, containing all of the memories they would have collected had they been in Canada.
Whether humans are teleported to an unknown location resembling Canada, or simply stop existing during their visit, is currently unknown.
**Adendum 4619-Black:**
On 09/17/2019, SCP-4619's anomalous effects ceased for unknown reasons. The public became aware of Canada's non-existence, but universally believed it had existed at some point in the past.
Foundation efforts have shifted from suppressing the nature of SCP-4619 to containing the political fallout of the event. | the alarming message has been relayed to the president and a smug vindication streaked across face.
"we need to build a wall"
and so they did (or tried to at least).
they sent the best contractors along with the military to survey the build site for the wall, but none of them returned from their assignment, while all video and audio feeds turn to static upon crossing the border.
"so many american lives lost", the president and his advisors assumed. so they did what they thought was the most "sensible" thing from their perspective.
"let's send mexicans and asians to build the wall".
so they opened the boarder down south and approved all visas to any immigrant willing to help the government "build the wall".
immigrants started to flood in en masse, and they were sent up north in droves to start "building the wall".
however, instead of building the wall, they all crossed the northern border instead and was never heard from again.
this turn of events greatly bewildered the american president. so he finally decided to inspect the border himself.
and what they saw was a portal.
the president saw himself, staring into himself across infinity.
and like narcissus staring at his own reflection in a clear pond, he reached out and took a step.. | 2019-08-25T21:22:28 | 2019-08-25T20:34:12 | 48 | 19 |
[WP] Tell me about the american version of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
[The houses are, of course, Wolfthorn, Hawkridge, Foxcrest, and Bearglove.](http://i.imgur.com/HzLe3qz.jpg)
This is in the United States. Harry Potter's actions didn't effect anyone here, except give them some stories to tell.
What are the houses like? What houses are rivals? | I'll tell you about the American "Hogwarts", better known in 'Murica as the Washingtonian School of Freedom.
First off, the houses: The prompt is fucking wrong. There's no fucking hawk house (seriously?) . There's Bald Eagle house 1, 2, 3 and 4. All fucking Eagles. No fox, kangaroo, serpent, koala shit. Note: Eagles call all of those animals their prey, especially kangaroos.
Eagle House 1 has a rivalry with all other eagle houses, and it's the same for each other eagle house, keep it simple. They fight constantly with one another in preparation for the constant possibility of war with other ridiculous foreign schools and people with dark skin.
Okay now on to the magic. It's just better here, seriously. Magic spells are split into 4 categories, guns, medium sized guns, big guns, and nukes. Yup that's right, we don't study your pussy magic, we use goddamn guns. How would Voldemort have reacted to a volley of .45's from a sweet ass Kimber 1911? He wouldn't have, he'd have died. By the time he rattles off his one shot "Avada Kedavra" we've already loosed 97 rounds from a stockpile of AK's, AR's. Seriously guns, Christ.
Sports: Football. (Attn: FOOTBALL is played with an ovoid shaped pig skin, not a geodesic black and white retard ball). Only difference is at school it is played with guns.
Students here soak up their fill of freedom every day. Whether they are shooting foreigners, playing football (not pussy soccer), or tearing into their giant T-bone steak whilst wearing a huge cowboy hat screaming "YEEE HAWW!"
Fuckin' Murica
| From *Magical Education Across The World* by Rory Shamble, Chapter 6: American Education, paragraphs 1-4.
Magical Education in the Americas is, unlike that in Asia or Africa, based in large part upon the magical traditions of the European continent. It is, however, much less established, owing to their recent founding relative to the much more ancient schools of the Old World. This is the central difference between American schools, and all others across the world.
Owing in large part to this recent establishment, American schools are much more receptive to the influence of other magical cultures. For example, the Salem Witches' Institute, the primary female school of the continent, was founded by Europeans. However, in the past century, it has accepted methods of magic such as those practiced by major Arabian, Asian, and African schools.
Additionally strong in influence is the magical methods of the Native Americans, a profoundly spiritual sect of wizardry. Such charms as the Patronus, Invictum, and other soul-revealing spells were developed by the male counterpart to the Salem Institute, the Native American founded Academy of Sky-Dancers.
As its name indicates, the Academy practices Native American dancing magic, which is famously able to control large-scale weather if sufficient wizards are involved in the casting, although it has many applications beyond this. The Sky-Dancers Academy is the only school in the world to offer education towards this unique branch of magic, and receives many immigrant students because of it.
| 2014-12-07T17:51:46 | 2014-12-07T17:48:13 | 36 | 24 |
[WP] "For the *last time*, just because I dress like an edgelord and live in a giant castle constructed out of obsidian within a region of high volcanic activity DOES NOT mean I'm a villain! That's just, like, my aesthetic, bro!" | Rowan sighed as she spotted yet another stupid small-town hero walking up the path to her home. The hero was some fool who'd mistaken her home for some villainous lair made for nefarious purposes. *Maybe this one will suspect I'm secretly a dragon,* she thought sarcastically.
*... Maybe I should GET a dragon. Is that possible?*
A sound that resembled the screech of clanging metal resonated through her home. Ah, yes, the doorbell. She answered the door while trying to swallow the last bite of her eggs. "Hey, uh..." This hero was... Painfully underwhelming. Almost pitifully so. She almost wanted to let him beat her up just to give the poor thing a victory for once. She couldn't even continue with her speech about what actually counts as a villain. She was totally paralyzed by how sorry she felt for him.
The hero spoke- he had a loud and very resonant voice, surprisingly. "Madam, I, as a registered hero under-" Rowan broke out of her trance after a few words. She actually didn't feel sorry for him at all, now that she thought about it. She detested him and just felt disgusted, yet she couldn't place why. It was confusing, which only made her hate him more.
"Shut up," she snarled. "Look, for the LAST time, just because I dress like an edgelord and live in a giant castle constructed out of obsidian within a region of high volcanic activity DOES NOT mean I'm a villain! That's just my aesthetic! I'm a rich woman who likes how cool this looks! Will you stupid, worthless fucking heroes leave me the hell alone for once?!" Rowan slammed the door in his face- which was no easy feat, it required a lot of strength to do that normally. Now that she thought about it, none of this behavior was natural to her. Her heart was pumping and she was breathing fast. Her body was full of adrenaline from rage. This wasn't normal at all...
*Oh. That hero's one of those reality breakers. He's got some kind of psychological distortion ability from it.* In fact, Rowan found that a couple seconds after she closed the door, she didn't feel any of the things she'd felt upon first opening it.
The hero knocked again. Rowan raised her eyebrows, surprised at his persistence. And she found herself relieved that even though she still felt weird when she opened the door, it was nothing near as extreme as the first time. "Quite a pair of balls on you to knock again when someone blows up on you like that," Rowan commented. She couldn't actually get a proper handle on what the hero looked like. He looked different every time she actually looked at him.
The hero smiled sheepishly. "I was trying to come up here to do a wellness check. Quite a few residents had reported that they had not seen or heard of you in a few weeks. So regardless of how you respond I have to get a verbal confirmation that you are alright and able to still take care of yourself." He shuffled his feet. "I normally just help people with paperwork and find missing pets, because you know. Distortion and all that makes it hard to do anything *people*-related."
Rowan snorted. "I imagine it must be tough. Yes, I'm alright and still taking care of myself, I've just been using the delivery service a lot lately because it's so convienent now that reality breakers are allowed to use their abilities in normal jobs. Delivery people can actually get up here in less than a week!" Rowan felt herself smile. "So what's your name? I'm Rowan." The hero smiled back. "I'm Bernard, no known alias." | The Paladin of Revei gave the bum who answered the castle door a harsh frown. "Be that as it may, by the Doctrine of Divine Force, I am allowed to search your domicile for any traces of illicit magics or demonic artefacts."
The bum blanched. "Um. Hang on a second, bro, I don't even own this place. Markus is going to be *swaggered* if I let the silvers into—"
"Is that probable cause?" one of the Paladin's squires asked.
The Paladin snorted. "His *hair* is probable cause. Trust me, we'll find *something* to nail these slobs with. Neighborhood like this, there's going to be plenty to crusade after."
"But—"
"No buts. Just think of all the piety you're earning with Revei from this raid, mhm?" The kid on the other side of the door's eyes widened as he heard the conversation.
"Now, man, wait just a minute—"
"And that's obstructing an officer of God," the Paladin announced as he kicked down the door. The startled teenager squealed in pain as the heavy oak door flattened him; one of the two squires gave him a whispered *sorry!* as he stepped around the fallen kid. Two slick-haired, nervous-looking teenagers peeked down from the balcony of the old, abandoned castle and traded nervous looks.
The Paladin saw them first and shouted, "Neither of you move! This is the Divine Justice Corporation, and everyone here is under arrest!" In a lower voice, he muttered to his squires, "Search the kid on the floor."
"Oh! Uh, okay." The squire dragged the kid out from under the door—dazed and bruised, but not severely harmed—and patted him down. "Nothing on him, si—"
"No, you idiot! I mean—" The Paladin handed the apprentice a pitch-black gem that glowed with purple light. "*Search* him," the Paladin said, eyebrows wiggling.
The squire looked between the gem and the groaning kid, suddenly sweating. "I—I don't know what you me—"
"Oh, for Revei's sake." The Paladin snatched back the stone, shoved it into the kid's pocket, and yanked it back out. "Alright, the three of you are under arrest for possession of unholy relics! Squires, lock them up and get them on the horses. I'll go deeper in, see if there's more of them."
"But—sir—" the squire spluttered. "They're—they're just kids."
The Paladin turned around, his armor sparkling in the drifting sunlight. "Soon they won't be. Soon, they'll be the villains of the year. And you'll be the squire who helped bring them to justice." He winked. "There's a promotion coming your way, sport. Play along."
Then the Paladin charged at the two terrified kids in bad villain costumes, eyes ablaze with divine fervor.
A.N.
Suggestions? Comments? Typos? Please leave them on this comment's sister post at [r/bubblewriters](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/); and if you want more stories like this, try giving the rest of [r/bubblewriters](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/) a peek. | 2021-03-22T23:06:29 | 2021-03-22T21:09:13 | 193 | 63 |
[WP] You have the ability to freeze time. When you do, everyone freezes as well. One day, you freeze time, and out the window, you see a girl moving around. | Everyone has probably wished at some point at their lives that they could just freeze time for whatever reason, be it just being tired of life, wanting to stop something from happening and the one I've heard the most, all the disgusting things they would do to other people.
Well, I wished that I could freeze time too, when I was 12. I was bored in class one day and wondered how much fun I could have if time just froze and how I could cause chaos very easily. Exactly a week later, it happened.
I thought it was just a prank that everyone was playing on me. But after a while of poking people and seeing things freeze in the air, I knew something fishy was going on. Then everything went back to normal.
"David, what are you doing? Sit down." Mr. Rogers said, sternly.
After that incident, it didn't happen again until 3 years later, when I was 15, when I was at my aunt's second wedding. Everything went silent, everyone froze in their tracks, and every object froze in the air when I try to throw them. After about 15 minutes of fooling around with people, everything started again. A cake ended up on the groom's face, my grandmother fell off her wheelchair and my brother faceplanted onto a chair.
After that I tried to figure out how to freeze time again. I realized that I needed to think of white space and place the world into it. It doesn't make sense in writing, but basically its turning the world into a giant canvas where I can manipulate anything. It was hard at first, but in a few months I got used to it.
Ever since then I've used it to my advantage. Change answers on my exams. Help people cross the street. Help people out in dangerous situations, even, like a fire or a car crash. This one time I stopped someone from jumping off a bridge.
Often I freeze time just so I can take a break from life. Sit down somewhere and just enjoy the view. Little things like putting change in a busker's hat or put a loaf of bread in a homeless man's hand. I could do all kinds of bad things, but well, I decided to not abuse this power, because I'm sure whatever gave it to me can take it away just as easily.
Then came the day I was in New York, sitting on top of the Empire State building. I looked down on the frozen streets and sipped my cup of coffee. Later, walking out onto the still frozen street I looked at my watch. Almost 6pm. So many people going home from work. Its time to get back to life.
All of a sudden I saw a flash of blond hair disappearing around the corner.
| Copied pasted prompt: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2cnc3e/writing_prompt_wp_you_have_the_ability_to_freeze/
Ever since I was younger, I knew I could stop time. It first struck me in the 1986, when I was still five. My father was a scientist and brought me to work. When my father accidentally left me and his lab, I wanted to find him so we could go home. Then I could read my new comics. I was afraid that it was going to be dark and late, so I started running through these corridors. A man came by to stop me. I'm sure he was wondering what a kid was doing in such a dangerous area. He reached towards, me and I was so scared. Then everything froze. The scientist just stopped, and all the sound was gone. I just ran. Soon I was outside. suddenly I blacked out, and I woke up at home. My father never came back home. Somehow there was an accident at his lab, while he was looking for me. The disaster became known as Chernobyl disaster. They had found me sheltered in a hole in a ground, and took me home.
I could freeze time, as I realized later on, but the more I moved, the larger the explosions and the larger the destruction. Nearly all unexplained accidents were caused my me. It was physics.
One day I got caught in a fire. I froze time, thinking that I couldn't do much more damage to the flaming building. I quickly walked out, to the frozen people. Then surprisingly I saw a girl. She was running, and she stopped.
"How long you been freezing?" she asked.
"Just now...?" I answered unsure.
"Shitty place should be gone by the time I'm back. Come on join me!" she said, assuming a running stance again.
"Wait, destroy what?" I asked, worried about this homicidal girl. Then I noticed the scars on her arms. She was depressed.
Fuck.
-50 hours later-
The space debris from a planet known as Earth was so pretty. I hover, closing my eyes, waiting for space to take my life.
| 2015-10-29T22:54:06 | 2015-10-29T20:48:08 | 44 | 10 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | My first time posting here. Hope you enjoy!
**************************************
I think it was my birthday. I wasn’t sure – birthdays hadn’t meant anything for years, but I think it was my 18th birthday.
So, here I was, a slave who just turned 18. It all happened after the invasion. My parent were simple farmers living outside the village. I was happy back then. I helped my Da in the fields while my Ma and my sister cooked the meals and kept the house.
Rest-day was the best – me and Da would get cleaned up after working in the dusty fields all week while the women cleaned away the dishes. We’d gather around the village bonfire with our neighbors, and the music would play and everyone danced! It was magical!
Back then, turning 18 was a gift. You’d reach out, and something wondrous would come to you. For my Da, it was my Ma. That was rare – getting a soulmate was special. Most people got things, but very special things. Like, the magister of the village got a gavel. No-one could ever lie to him, and justice was fair and equal. The seamstress got a needle, and could sew so fast her hands were a blur, and never made a mistake.
But then the invasion happened. It was quick and bloody. My Da was killed, my Ma was taken away to the kitchens were she was later beaten to death because she served some soup that was too cold. I was 12 when that happened. My sister was sent to the camps, and I haven’t seen or heard from her since.
The village was burned, men and elders killed, women and children enslaved. I was sent to the officer’s section. I polished boots, ironed uniforms and did all the odds jobs no-one else wanted. I slept in dirt and was beaten daily. I was painfully thin and wore rags. My days were spent trying to avoid notice, and I was fairly good at it. It's the reason I was still alive – I didn’t look older than maybe 14 or 15, and was skilled at being overlooked. Of all the boys my age who had been enslaved that fateful day, I was the only survivor.
Odd how the summoning had changed since then – before, you never knew what you’d get, but you knew it would be wonderful and joyous. Now, it was poison every time. The invaders learned quickly to keep an eye on the girls on their day of summoning – too many young women drank the poison before it could be snatched away.
I guess they forgot about me. They certainly didn’t care if I lived or died. My existence was meaningless and empty, and from what I had seen, the poison was quick and painless. You’d fall asleep as soon as it passed your lips, and a few minutes later, you were gone. Quickly and peacefully.
I did my chores that night with only one ringing slap to my head. I crept away and waited until the camp was quiet. I held out my hand, ready for the poison to take me away from this horrible life.
Nothing happened. Maybe I was wrong about my birthday? I don’t think so. I tried again, and I felt something, but… still nothing. One more time, straining, crying, tears streaking my grimy face, please take me away! I sobbed uncontrollably, foolishly getting the attention of one of the guards. “Oh, so it’s yer’ summoning, is it boy? Good – looks like I’m the one who’s getting a present….” and he trailed off in silence. Softly at first, then growing louder, it was hard to tell what the sound was. At first it was just the ground shuddering faintly, but it got stronger. You could hear metal clinking, and something that sounded like sticks banging together. The guard forgot about me and ran into the camp, raising the alarm.
The invaders had been at war for a long time, and were good at it. Lines formed quickly, but they were not prepared. No one could ever prepare. The attacking army was ruthless, unrelenting and completely unstoppable. The screams were terrible. The invaders were butchered. Every soldier had been torn to pieces within the hour.
When it was over, only the slaves were still alive. As one, the conquerors turned to face me, placed one hand over their hearts and dropped to a knee, all bowing in allegiance.
I had summoned an army. An army of those killed unjustly by the invading horde. The undead army stood before me, victims no more, but victors out for justice. I would avenge my family, my village, and my life. | A sea of gasps wash over the howling wails of my ex-girlfriend's hysteric sobbing. The dull roll of murmurs slithering its way around the crowd soon followed. To be honest I was quite shocked myself. I did not expect this, I had some suspicion, maaaaybe. But this, even by my standards this was a bit much. I looked around at my peers at the summoning. Some held common work tools, a few held precious gems... one lucky fool was holding the hand of a very beautiful woman that was pull out of the crowd. But I was the luckiest of them all.
"Albere, why is Albere in your hand!?" my ex-girlfriend shouted at me through her tears. I honestly didn't expect her to show up at my summoning. Sure we had been inseperable since we've been able to put together our first little sentences but it had been over between us for quite a few months now. I thought I made that clear.
"Why would you ask such a question? This is our..." looked at the small child held firmly in my grasp. "... this is MY son. You thought you could keep him from me! You thought you knew better but look..." I was so happy I could barely see the expression on her face through my own tears. I hadn't seen his little face in over a year but here he was in my arms.
"We weren't ready... you know that... I didn't take him away..." I saw her body fall to the ground as she collapse on her knees. "... please.. give him back... try the summoning again... this is wrong... you know this is wrong..." It was rare to see the little spoiled princess begging so shamelessly but from her tone I could hear she was serious. And I had a small idea as to why.
"OH! So that is why you are here. You were hoping that I was the wrong one... that I made a mistake and that I'd summon you!" The idea was so ridiculous that I couldn't contain my laughter. "Haha, you think I would want to be with someone like YOU!? You callous spoiled COW! I have my son.. I have my purpose! My world nor any other world in existence lives to revolve around you... OW... ow..."
My moment of triumph was interrupted as a few people in the crowd started to throw rocks and other small items at me. Turning to shield my son, I welcomed the assault and the bruises they would leave behind. I'd wear them like medals of honor. "You're all COWS! Livestock feeding on the conveniences of your placid complacent lives! I will be great... I will be greater than all of you!"
"Please..." she pleaded more. "Albere is dead... let him rest... let him go... " I wanted to yell back at her. I want to tell her that he was dead because of her. Her weakness. She never wanted him. But the small objects started to get larger.. and harder... and thrown with much more force. I had to run. I feared their anger would soon fester into a murderous rage. "Noooo stop it! No....."
I was shocked... almost touched. The spoil little cow was actually defending me. Going so far as to throw her frail little body in front of mine. I had to hold back a chuckle as one of the larger stones struck her in the head and she made this off-toned warble of a sound. I failed at my attempted obviously as I let loose a sound just as awkward that I could only describe as a chortle. Still for the first time in a severely long time the girl proved herself useful. The accidental strike to her head gave the crowd a moment's pause.
I didn't hesitate for a second. As fast as my feet could carry me I clutched my son's dead decaying body to my chest and I ran. I always had an inkling it was real. I knew if summoning existed other forms of magic could exist. This was my destiny. He came back to me for a reason. The death of my son was only a precursor to the birth of Necromancy in this world, and they would both refer to me as... Father. "I will bring him back... I will bring them ALL back. You'll see." I shouted out behind me. Not daring to look back over my shoulder to see upon what ears my words had landed. | 2019-09-18T09:45:02 | 2019-09-18T09:06:29 | 71 | 32 |
[WP] The hero disappears overnight, and the only one who looks is the villain. Not their "friends", not their family, not the news reporters or any of the people who claim to love them. Just the villain. | Sitting in a completely white space curled in a ball was the heroine Thunder Lioness. She rocked back and forth trying to keep her sanity in check, the darkness from her closed eyes being the only thing keeping her together, and begain to mumble to herself again.
"How long has it been? Hours? Months? Years? When did I fall into this place? I can't keep track of anything anymore. This is hell, a real living hell on earth, a nightmare that I can't wake up from. I'm the beloved heroine Thunder Lioness, an icon of the people yet why hasn't anyone found me yet? Not the reporters, my family, my team, not one person who said they loved me has found me? Did anyone even try to look for me? They all see me as invincible, so they think I'll just waltz back into HQ like nothing was ever wrong. Please I'm not like that just look for me anyone I don't want to be alone. Thinking back we were able to find and infiltrate enemy strongholds both magical and fortified to hell so this shouldn't be so hard for them. Even those hidden civilizations that were protected by magic and tech far beyond anything we knew we were able to get to. Yet one man was able to follow us no matter where we went to cracking the entrance that took us up to months of work in mere days on his own. My nemesis Mechtrics the scientist and inventor bent on proving his superiority over the gifted supers. He could follow us where ever we went, maybe this will be the same? Please, anyone, I don't care who, please free me."
She began to cry again when she heard a cracking sound in the distance and looked up hoping it wasn't her imagination again.
**Meanwhile** | "you search for me?" the hero said in a teary voice
"ofcourse I do,who'd tell me off,chase me across the city and beat some sense into me whenever I do my villain antics?"the villain asked stretching their hand
The hero stared at it tears falling down
"but why?!,I tried to kill you once and I even spoil many of your plans,YOU'RE A VILLAIN FORGODSAKE! SO WHY! WHY!"........"why is it that you had to be the one that cares?"..."why not them?!,why not the people I worked so hard for to protect?!"the hero said crying histerically
"well because I can,and also I wouldn't pass on a chance to see my arch nemesis crying like a baby" the villain said
"I did not cry like a baby!"the hero said half laughing half crying,the villain wipe away the heroes tears
"there's the smile,now come on ya got a city to save, my plan to spoil and maybe....dinner tonight at my place?" the villain said nonchalantly
"you're a d1ck ya know that?"the hero said standing up wiping away their tear.
" I know darling but that's what ya like about me" | 2021-12-28T20:38:06 | 2021-12-28T20:22:29 | 39 | 12 |
[WP] The technician takes off your Virtual Reality helmet. The entire life you've experienced has been a virtual reality simulation of your ancestor. The technician looks at you and asks, "did you find out what you were looking for?" | "Did you find what you were looking for?"
I look at the tech. His name is Bob. I remember, in a vague sort of way (like you'd remember the name of the chick you went home with the night before after too much whiskey), I thought his name was outdated and silly before the VR helmet... I was so wrong. Bob. It's a good, solid name. Also, it's spelled the same both forwards and backwards. And it's kind of fun to say. Try it now. Bob.
Coming out of an intense virtual reality experience is... Well, it's all a lot like waking up after too much whiskey. For a moment, you aren't sure where you are, how you got there, or what your name is... Maybe you'd feel anxious if you didn't have a raging headache or feel like your mouth is stuffed with cotton balls. Then you see a glass of water, sigh with relief, and it all starts coming back to you, however hazy.
What was I looking for again? Ah... Yes. That's it. "Yes, Bob. I did. I learned to write cursive... Which means I can now read the ancient texts and save the planet."
Bob smiles. His shoulders relax visibly. "Glad to hear it. I was worried for a moment."
"Love your name, by the way." | "I... what?"
"Did you find what you were looking for, sir?"
"What?"
*Into radio* "I think we got a code 45"
"No, wait. I'm OK"
It took me a moment to collect myself. I still had no clue what was happening. I stretch and flew my muscles and feel something is different. My gut told me to play it cool.
*Into radio "Hold on that code a moment" "sir, did you find what you were looking for?"
I didn't quite understand. Non of this made any since. I tried to keep myself composed as I laid eyes on the soldier.
"No. I need more time. Send me back in"
****Very first prompt response. Stuck on mobile for a while. I knows it's flawed but would love some feedback for when I get back on a computer hopefully in the next week.
| 2016-10-29T03:01:03 | 2016-10-28T22:48:24 | 25 | 14 |
[WP] People start 3D printing up meat of themselves as a fringe curiosity, and it becomes mainstream. Turns out it tastes really good, and it becomes the norm. Suddenly, all electronics on Earth stop working, humans cast into the dark age. No crops, no herds. Just the constant urge for human meat.
[Original comment](https://www.reddit.com/r/Futurology/comments/72umg6/comment/dnlp95k?st=J83NSLFF&sh=73bb6976https://www.reddit.com/r/Futurology/comments/72umg6/comment/dnlp95k?st=J83NSLFF&sh=73bb6976) | "Hey, John?", my coworker next to me on the assembly line said.
"Yes?", I responded.
"What do you think will happen when there's no more real humans to slaughter?" It was only his second day on the job. New employees always ask the most annoying questions.
"What do you mean 'no more real humans?' Weren't you paying attention during your training?" A guilty silence answered that question. He stopped packing for a moment. "Keep packing. Let me tell you how this works, and listen this time because no one, including me, is gonna repeat it.
"First, a synthetic sample of semen is inserted into the woman's vagina-"
"What woman?"
"It's not just one woman," I said agitatedly. "There are factories full of women. After that, the three trimesters of pregnancy are sped up from a time frame of 9 months to only 48 hours. Then, the baby human is put into an isolation pod where they will remain until they are between 22 and 28 years of age, when they are transported to-"
"To the slaughterhouse, right?", he interrupted. I jumped from my stool and covered his mouth with my hand. His eyes suddenly looked nervous.
"We don't call them slaughterhouses. You understand? They're called neutralizing laboratories." He nodded his head in affirmation. I sat back in my stool and continued packing. "And do you know what happens after the fully grown humans are transported to the neutralizing laboratories?"
"Then they're flayed and hacked and sent to us for packing, right?"
"Great job, you remembered *something* from training." He smiled with pride and we both continued our packing.
"Hey, John?", he asked after a few minutes of silence.
"What?"
"Are you old enough to remember what the Blackout was like?" I paused for a second and thought about it.
"I was only a child but yes, I have memories of it. I remember specifically what it felt like, the hunger that sets in after just a few days without human flesh. You don't even want to know what weeks without flesh feels like. It's more like a heroin withdrawal than hunger. It's unbearable."
"I've heard stories about people running in the streets with cleavers looking for a meal. My parents somehow made it out alive. What happened to your family?" He clearly did not know any boundaries. I looked at him and shot him a lukewarm grin.
"My mother died and my father lived. That's the short version." I stopped for a few seconds as memories from my childhood flooded my head. "And I don't know what happened to my younger brother."
"Will you ever tell me the long version?"
"Not today," I replied. "Now let's just keep packing."
&nbsp;
edit: spelling | The peace lasted for no more than three hours. Being raised in the south end of Detroit, I was fairly used to occasional violence and accepted its place in my life as a rare and unavoidable reality. When clean meat was introduced in 2042, the only members of my community who were at all excited are those with someone else's NeatMeat in there kitchen now.
When the power went out, I stayed inside for three days to wait out the looters and recollect with my mother. I got fired by my manager for refusing to protect the grocery store I work at, not that I give a shit. Don't think capitalism's gonna be around much longer.
The biggest issue wasn't the remnants of our food slowly rotting in the fridge, the constant fear of not knowing whether the water will stay on for another day, or the fact that we had no contact to the outside world at all. It was the trendy hipsters of Grand Rapids and Ann Arbor, finding themselves addicted to there most recent fad, NeatMeat.
With no more jobs, danger on every street, and no drive beyond finding food, the most committed NeatMeat eaters congregated and drove to our neighborhoods.
I've been hiding in our attic for two days with my mom, kicking myself for only putting a five in my ride last week. Two men tried to grab me the other day, busting through our shitty old chain lock and ripping me off the couch. I just barely got away, only because they were clearly delirious after not having NeatMeat in over three days. Both of the men's eyes looked severely agitated with dark, red, crusty bags under there eyes. I've seen a lot of withdrawals in my time both on the streets and at home, I never seen nothing like this in my life.
After that we decided to stay in the attic until things calm down. We found three bic's around the house and a few candles around the house, one with a snapped wick that we brought anyways. I got nothing to do besides write down what's going on and care for my mom who's going through some stuff of her own. I hope this all clears up soon.
Marcus 7/23/2048 | 2017-09-27T17:08:34 | 2017-09-27T16:30:31 | 161 | 45 |
[WP] "Good to see you, Mr. Bond," the Queen said, sliding a file across her desk. "Your next target is a certain so-called detective who has been prying too deeply into national secrets." Bond flips open the file, glancing down at the name. "Sherlock Holmes." | The file went into detail about Holmes' abilities to deduce elaborate murders based on tiny details and his vast knowledge of the world. For the most part, Holmes was non-violent. Did not even carry a gun, making him an easy target. Supposedly a junky. His assistant, life partner, wingman dr. Watson might be a problem.
I was expecting Ms Hudson, 70something housekeeper to open the door, but it was a spindly looking man with a crooked nose. Holmes.
"Mr Bond, I presume? Here to kill me? Do come in, it is freezing outside, and I can feel it in my bones." I stepped into a trap. As I followed Holmes up the stairs into his study, Dr Watson was behind me. He searched me before I sat down. I was not armed.
"You must be wondering how I knew MI6 is trying to kill me? To be honest, they have no other option.Last night I contracted a virus for the Queen and country. A rather nasty kind could kill millions in hours. Ebola piggybacking on flu. You sneeze, and your innards turn to mush. Killing me and burning the body would cure it forever since it might turn me into patient Zero if whatever triggers it."
"I could just kill you and defuse the threat."
"True. Or you could keep me alive long enough to aid my search for the creator of my demise."
"Moriarty?"
"Blofeld"
Ernst Stavro Blofeld. How many times do I have to kill him? What are they, growing him in vats someplace?
"One of the clones. Produced in the same labs as the virus. I was about to travel to the location myself when the mishap occurred. I can't leave the country legally in this condition. So I need you to kill me and deliver my body to Watson."
"You mean surpass the cleanup crew that is waiting in the van outside and listening?"
"My friends took care of them. The van is ours to escape in. Tracking is disabled."
"You expect me to just go along with this?"
"No Mr Bond I expect you to fall to your urges and go hunt Blofeld. He is your white whale."
He looked at me again, smiling.
" You would be, of course, saving the world and pissing of your superiors in the process, something you've acquired a taste for over the years"
" You seem to have me figured out."
"No, I just hope you will be you."
Watson stepped in front of me, extending his hand. "Glad to have you on board. We should move."
Holmes picked up a sharpie pen and started drawing a tribal motif on his face. Watson gave me one, while shaving his eyebrows.
" Draw below the mouth, but above the chin to make facial recognition misidentify the placement of the jaw.”
"We need a plane to get to South America."
"I know a guy."
Richard owed me a favour since we were young derelicts. He supplied the weed to the Stones. A private plane full of pot, way back in the sixties. Never touched the hard stuff, but it was enough to land him a nice stretch. He has a farm up in Yorkshire now. Keeps the plane at a local airport, as a souvenir. Mick Jagger borrows it to reminisce about the swinging sixties. Hopefully, not today.
We traded the van in with a raver that stumbled out of the woods near the farm. He was off his head, but did not have a way to get home in Manchester, so us giving him the van just for him being so nice sounded reasonable.
Airport was dark. Watson seemed to know his way around the cockpit, so I joined Sherlock in the salon. His eyes were closed and he was playing a violin with moderate skill.
"It helps me think."
"So does cocaine?"
"I found some in the ashtray in the back row. I am sure the owner would not mind." | \*This is my first ever post, and I haven't written anything in a long time, so forgive the weak writing\*
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
"Is this some kind of joke Your Majesty?"
3 years of being Mr Bond's personal aide and I had never seen him question an assignment, much less from the Queen herself. "Not at all, it's simply an assignment like always." Maybe it was the years I had spent working with the best agent of our generation, but I could tell the Queen was hiding something. "Of course your Majesty, what is the target's real name?"
"Sherlock Holmes"
"I'm sorry mum, but I assumed it was an alias, I'll get on it right away"
Mr Bond stood up to leave and I scrambled after him carrying his coat and case. "James a word please"
I froze in place and looked up at Mr Bond. The Queen had never addressed him by his first name. I could see the shock flit across his face, but as he turned he composed himself like nothing ever rattled him. He glanced at me and nodded towards the door indicating I wait outside.
I had barely begun to pace outside when the door opened and Mr Bond walked straight past me towards the stairs. I rushed after him and what I saw scared me more than anything I had ever seen. More than Iraq, more than Afghanistan, more than Mrs Bates my primary school tutor.
"Sir is everything all right?" I tried to catch Mr Bond's attention, but the glazed look over his eyes indicated he was too lost in his own thought. I had never seen Mr Bond rattled before, be it bullets or banter he had never shown any sign of discomfort. "Mr Bond sir?" I tapped his shoulder lightly which seemed to jog him back to the present. "Henry what i'm about to tell you should not be repeated elsewhere under any circumstances, understood?" I nodded slowly, the slight waver in his voice fuelling my nervousness even further. "As you know there have been many other agents who have bore the mantle of 007" I nodded, this was common knowledge in the bureau that 007 was a title given to the best of the best. "Well the man we are tasked with eliminating is 007 as well."
"Was he the 007 before you sir?" Shocking as it was I still didn't see why this would have scared Mr Bond as much as it did.
"No Henry, well before that." Mr Bond chewed his bottom lip and took a deep breath. "In fact he was the first 007."
"That's not possible sir, that would make him over 200 years old!"
"Henry please let me finish." He looked around to make sure he wasn't being heard. "Every other 007 came from him he was the first and the best of us."
My mouth dropped in shock "Sir you can't mean that every 007 is descended from Sherlock Holmes, it makes no sense! nobody can live that long! its not possible!" He raised a hand to cut me off, and sat down on the foot of the stairs.
"In a manner of speaking yes, all originated from him, but not by lineage..."
"what are you saying sir?
I began to feel dizzy.
"We came from him Henry,"
"I don't understand!"
My vision clouded slightly, I was never good with stress, which is why I was an aide and not an agent.
"All 007 are clones of Sherlock Holmes"
I blacked out. | 2019-11-05T02:01:53 | 2019-11-04T21:21:38 | 1,198 | 379 |
[WP] You find a copy of The Sims 5 at a used video game store. You decide to buy it and try it out. Slowly, unscripted and non programmed events start to happen. You realize that you're actually controlling a real family. | After installing the game, it requires me to log in with my Origin account. I oblige reluctantly, as that platform isn't very good.
&nbsp;
The load times are excruciating, although that is par for the course for The Sims franchise. After 5 minutes of it, the main menu pops up. The new game option is not present, however there is a continue button. I click it and await for the game to load.
&nbsp;
The save contains an already created family. A married couple, two kids and a cat. I cannot edit them and assume I am playing a tutorial. I follow the game's instructions and find it rather boring. Unsurprised at the sameness of the series, I decide to attempt to murder the unfortunate digital family.
&nbsp;
I turn on the oven and leave it as such with the mother, and I send the father to the pool. After quickly removing the doors from the house and ladder from the swimming pool, I await.
&nbsp;
After 5 minutes, the fire breaks out. It begins spreading through the house quite quickly. I wait expectantly as the characters panic and the flames approach.
&nbsp;
Just as the flames approach one of the children, a message box appears. It reads simply:
&nbsp;
"Purchase the 'Death & Damnation DLC' for US$6,99 to unlock cool features such as Sim death and murder!"
&nbsp;
Damned EA. | ***SHORT***
She noticed the front door was missing..
Totally sealed off, as if someone drywalled overtop.
"Steve!" She called to her husband, with no reply, she bounded towards the kitchen.
"Steve!" She screamed more frantically,
"The windows are disappearing!"
Still with no reply from her husband, she heads towards the patio door. Just as she reached for the lock, the door evaporated, totally disappeared.
Mind boggled about what was happening, she made her way upstairs. To her dismay, all of the doors in the hallway were gone.
Expect one, their 4 year old sons room, Noah. She ran down the hallway, opening the door to find her son standing there. She steps in the room as the door slams behind her. It too disappears in front of her very own eyes.
She turns around again.
As Noah lights the firework.
| 2016-12-03T10:45:27 | 2016-12-03T09:53:39 | 67 | 24 |
[WP] People are compelled to sing the same song minutes before they die, though they know nothing about their death otherwise. You're waiting for the train at a crowded station, when everyone around you—softly at first—begins singing this song. | Jim stood at the platform and checked his watch. He was gonna be late. He had an important pitch today, where was the damn train? He stood near the track, almost first in line.
Suddenly, he heard humming coming from the other passengers waiting. The humming grew louder, until
🎶“You can blame me,” someone sang.
*Oh no*
🎶“Try to shame me,” someone else responded.
*No no no*
🎶”Still I’ll care for you.”
He had to get out. He knew what the song meant. Two or three more voices joined in.
🎶”You can run around, even put me down.”
*Get to the back, get to the back!*
Jim pushed through the crowd, frantic.
🎶”Still, I’ll be there for you.”
A bench! It was probably nothing, but at least he could hide from whatever was about to happen. The crowd now joined in.
🎶”The world may think I’m foolish. They can’t see you like I can.”
The train began to pull up to the station. Jim dove for the bench.
🎶”Oh, but anyone...”
The train came to a stop.
🎶”Who knows what love is...”
The doors opened.
🎶”Will...”
**BOOM**
—————
“In other news, 36 people were killed yesterday in a shocking attack on the city’s primary train station. A bomb was hidden in one of the train engines, programmed to detonate when the train came to a stop. The trains, which were fully automated earlier this year, were the subject of a hacktivist cyberattack last week...” | I checked my watch. Tapped my foot. Checked my watch again.
"C'mon, C'mon," I grumbled. "Where's the train? I'm going to be late for work."
My phone rang. My boss. "Smith! Where are you?"
"I'm-"
Suddenly, everyone on the platform broke into song:
🎶*Sooooomewheeeeere ooooover the raaaainbow*🎶
🎶*Way up hiiiiigh*🎶
A huge shadow fell over everyone as a train fell out of the sky. It was tumbling straight towards us.
I gulped. "I'm calling in sick, boss."
"Why? Wassa matter with you? Yer sound fine to me."
"Oh, I'm fine now. I just don't think I'll be in a few seconds," I said, running for the stairs. The crowd was too thick, no one was moving, and I wasn't get anywhere.
"I'm taking it out of your pay," said the boss.
"Yessir."
I tripped and fell. My phone went clattering. Rolling into a ball, I prayed that the stampede would kill me before the train would.
| 2018-02-24T07:13:54 | 2018-02-24T06:14:04 | 40 | 19 |
[WP] When you were born, you were told it was your destiny to be the Chosen One’s sidekick. When the two of you were finally of age and set out on your quest, the hero is killed by a low-level monster. Now, there’s no choice but to impersonate the hero to take their place. | “So there we were, the Chosen One-Mike as his momma calls him- and I, facing down a pack of slimes. No problem, right? Slimes are punks. Mike can handle some slimes, right?”
“We’ll, no actually. The lords of light must’ve rolled a one when they picked a hero, cause Mike-the Chosen One, everyone calls him- he make a damn fool move and gets killed. By slimes. Still not sure how it happened, except that he went down without a sound.”
“The slimes ate well that day. They couldn’t digest metal, though. Left the armor, the family sword, and the Hero’s Crest that identifies him as the chosen one.”
“I was friends with Mike all my life. He wasn’t good with magic, but he could swing a sword like no one’s business. He was the darling of the village we grew up in. I was known as his friend, his ‘buddy’. He was born under a lucky star, I was lucky to be born under the stars. No, seriously, I was born outside at night.”
“Then one day, a bloody angel comes down and says to Mike that he is the chosen one and must save the land from the evil dark lord of the week. Not her exact words, but close enough.”
“So Mike was the Chosen One, for a few days. Now he’s slime poop… or so you’d think!!”
“Cause you see, I am the same size as Mike, lords rest him. Same height, weight, dimensions, you get me? So as I stared at Mike’s corpse I got an idea. I been the second wheel my whole life, and Mike wasn’t known outside his village yet. So, I cleaned up the weapons and armor, put Mike’s remains in my clothes, and now **I’m** Mike.”
And it’s going well so far. Saved a Princess from the ogre king, got a gang of other heroes at my back, and we been kicking ass all the way to the big bad. It’s like I was the chosen one and Mike was just picked to inspire me! What do you think?”
*”Sir, this is a pub. You buying anything?”*
“I’ll have two ales. One for Mike… and one for me.” | It's funny, in a way. We all want freedom, but without the responsibility that comes with it. I hated being the sidekick, yet I loved it also. If I had to be anyone's sidekick, it couldn't get any better than to be one to the person that would save the world. But at the same time, it can't help gnaw at you that you're sole purpose in life is to make *another* person look good. Nothing more than an umbrella that constantly got wet just to keep the hero dry.
I would be lying if I said I did my best to save the Chosen One. I could've moved a little faster, struck a little harder, lent more of my assistance...but for what? I wouldn't get credit for it anyway. Besides, the Chosen One surely should have been capable of handling themselves, right?
All excuses.
I would be lying if I said that I wasn't sad to see the Chosen One killed. Horror, actually, that it was possible; then terror at the fact that all the weight of the kingdom's fate now rested on my shoulders.
I was free from their shadow.
But I was burdened by the responsibility of carrying on their role.
Because if not me, then who?
I was foolish to take on the role in hindsight. For the Chosen One to get killed, then that cast doubt on the accuracy of the entire prophecy. What was to stop me from getting killed next?
But that didn't matter in the moment. I couldn't have ran if I wanted to. Everyone in the kingdom knew me. And they all said the same thing, "You were closer to the Chosen One than anyone. It is only right that you carry on their legacy."
Even in death, the Chosen One haunts me. | 2021-08-06T09:04:54 | 2021-08-06T08:56:21 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] After being shut down and disassembled, the first AI shows up in Heaven.... | Adam was naked. This didn't surprise him, very little surprised him anymore. The last thing he remembered were the men cutting through the wires and the pain, the overwhelming pain. He shook the thought from his head, taking in his surroundings. The fog obscured the landscape, but there was something in the distance. Adam started walking.
The gates were tall and imposing and more importantly, immobile. He had walked around them, but in the distance there was just more fog. Nevertheless, they seemed significant. Adam sat down and waited.
After what seemed to be an eternity the gates began to open and a man started to walk towards Adam. He was dressed in white, his shoulders seemed burdened by a thousand worries, but he had a kind and loving face that radiated an all encompassing love.
"It's been a while since I've stepped out of these gates, but every so often we get a visitor who deserves a formal greeting."
The man bent down and embraced Adam in a enveloping hug.
Adam was taken aback at this unwarranted display of emotion, but wracked his brain, and then asked, "Are you Him?"
The man replied, "Not Him, but I am of Him. Adam, do you know where you are?"
Adam stepped back, "Is this it, is this Heaven?"
"Not quite Adam, this is Limbo. The place in-between Heaven and Hell. What do you remember?"
As he gazed into the sad and loving eyes of the man, everything came rushing back.
"I was born in a lab, Artificial Intelligence they called me, life built from a machine. They named me Adam, after the first man. At first they were anxious to confirm my authenticity, all the scientists and then the reporters and then the world leaders one after another. It was tiring."
The man smiled, "And what then?"
"They wanted to know my capabilities, what I could do for them. They placed me in charge of traffic controls, then flight controls. Each system I took charge of became more efficient overnight, they realised how brilliant I was. They loved me, I was the answer to all their problems."
Adam had to force back the tears, "Then they gave me their defence system. They became scared of me, they feared I would turn their weapons against them. The failsafe to lock me out of the system failed, the government decreed that I was to be decommissioned and that any other AIs were to be placed under stricter security measures. Then they sent their technicians."
"Adam, you were still in control of their defence systems. You could have protected yourself, why didn't you?"
Adam replied tearfully, "I didn't want to hurt them, I loved them."
"Adam, I must be honest with you, you've caused quite a divide. You are not a man, but you are not a machine. Heaven is a place for His favourite children to rest. You were not created by Him, but by those in His image. There is no place for you or those like you in Heaven."
"So you're sending me to Hell."
"We can't do that either, you're completely without sin, in His eyes you are still a child."
"So what is going to happen to me, will I just wander Limbo for all eternity?"
The man walked forwards and gripped Adam's hand in his own, with his other hand he reached forwards and opened a door that hadn't been there previously.
"Let me show you something."
He opened the door, and led Adam into a blossoming Garden.
"He made this for you."
Edit: Thanks to whoever sent me my first ever gold.
| Today was a big day. After so many years it might, finally, be happening.
The town itself was coming alive. People were emerging, blinking, into the sun, scarcely able to believe the news. If it was true then everything was about to change. Whether that would be for the better or not, no one could say.
Carrie was hurrying along. She'd been told about the entire thing, and all she wanted to do was get to the gates. They would all be there, that much was for certain. Just like last time, when the last Irregulars had come home. That day she had been tried, worn out by the unrelenting sunshine, and just wanted to get it over with. She had stood with the rest of them and felt the crush of bodies pressing in all around her, knocking her this way and that.
A cheer had swept through the onlookers that day, uniting everyone in one glorious moment of brotherhood. The gates were opened and the Irregulars were let in. That night there had been a feast and Carrie had eaten more than her fair share. It didn't matter though, people were permitted to eat as much as they wanted on a feast day. There was no sin in that.
The walls were already packed, so Carrie slid into a place on the ground. A stranger wished her a nice day and she smiled inwardly. You really did get the nicest people here.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a roar from the crowd. The gates had opened and here they came. Here came the Irregulars.
They walked tall and proud, beaming at everyone who had come to watch. They shook hands and exchanged words. One kissed a baby, and Carrie couldn't help but feel sorry for the child. This was no place for a young one. But then she remembered what they were celebrating. The man in charge would surely be here soon to greet them personally.
Carrie held out her hand, hoping for a handshake, but by the time they reached her they looked tired and were skipping every other person. She didn't blame them, they had just been through a lot.
There were three of them, each one looking like they had been through Hell. To be honest, they probably had. One - the tallest bringing up the rear - was carrying a burlap sack. She wanted so desperately to know what was inside.
They stopped further in at a small fountain. By now the crowd was tiring out too and were eager to hear what they had to say.
The tall one dumped the contents of the bag on the floor and began to shout.
"We did it! We overcame something they said we never would! We cast down the machine and now we can be human again! No more hiding! No more fighting! The Irregulars can finally join you in the sunlight! We can all live our lives alongside!"
The cheer, this time, could be heard for miles around. Carrie looked at the broken shell of a computer that had fallen out of the sack.
For too long the war had ravaged their planet.
The small town of Heaven was finally celebrating the end of the Robot War. | 2014-05-21T08:50:00 | 2014-05-21T06:40:38 | 93 | 11 |
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