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[WP] Rewrite The Ten Commandments as if it were a Buzzfeed/Cracked artice. | **11 Moral Lifehacks This Koala Wearing a Straw Hat While Eating a Popsicle (http://imgur.com/CO0nPRL) Does Better Than You**
Let’s face it: ain’t nobody got time for all these rules and shit. Who always has time? This koala. Eating a Popsicle. Wearing a straw hat.
1. Keep it simple. Focus on the popsicle. Would you waste your time gnawing through an acorn if you had a popsicle? Didn't think so.
2. See #1. Look at the koala’s face: he knows he has one job. You don’t reach that status and then get distracted.
3. He knows that we see him eating the popsicle. Doesn’t need keep saying it.
4. (counts for 2) How many fucks does this koala give about anything other than eating a popsicle and wearing a hat? Zero. This is a day for one thing, and one thing only. Respect it.
5. How did this koala get a popsicle? His mother and father had sex and birthed him into the world. Let us be forever grateful.
6. How does a koala on a tree wearing a straw hat while licking a popsicle commit murder? That’s right. They don’t. You shouldn’t either.
7. See #1. Where do you see this koala’s tongue? On that popsicle. Licking one thing at a time. Keep it that way.
8. Would you steal this popsicle this face (http://imgur.com/mBic5w3)? No. It’ll be disappointing anyway. Like reading Buzzfeed after browsing Reddit (thank you psycho_alpaca).
9. He’s wearing a fucking hat. As a koala. He knows what he’s about. You don't get that type of glory through lying.
10. I think we can all pretty much agree this koala is everything we’d hope to be and more. Know who isn’t impressed? Koala. And probably Putin. Once you’ve either eaten a popsicle in a hat or ridden bare-chested on a stallion, you’ve peaked. Think they’re jealous of our miserable lives? Fuck no. Work towards your own popsicle. | "God sits down with Moses and lays down his ten rules for living (You won't believe #7!)"
#1: I AM THE LORD THY GOD.
God is really laying down the law on his chosen people, saying, I am in change, I am the boss.
#2: THOU SHALT HAVE NO OTHER GODS BEFORE ME.
God doesn't like being put on the backburner when it comes to worship.
#3: THOU SHALT NOT WORSHIP ANY FALSE IDOLS.
God told us that He really hates seeing knockoff merchandise of His face and likeness, so He's taking a stand.
#4: THOU SHALT NOT TAKE THE NAME OF THE LORD IN VAIN.
God is all business, and He doesn't want His name thrown around casually, watering down His brand.
#5: REMEMBER THE SABBATH DAY, AND KEEP IT HOLY.
God is all about taking it easy on a lazy Sunday, and wants His followers to be able to max and relax just like Him.
#6:HONOUR THY MOTHER AND FATHER.
God never met his parents, and He thinks it's super important for others to keep up good relationships with theirs.
#7: THOU SHALT NOT KILL.
God is all about the peace and love, and just wants everybody to get along.
#8: THOU SHALT NOT COMMIT ADULTARY.
God is a one partner deity, and does not approve of cheaters.
#9: THOU SHALT NOT BEAR FALSE WITNESS AGAINST THY NEIGHBORS.
God hates liars! He can't stand phony people, and won't have them in His paradise.
#10: THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGHBORS OX.
God thinks that people should not be jealous of the success of others, and is all about being humble.
| 2014-12-12T18:48:50 | 2014-12-12T18:40:53 | 67 | 22 |
[WP] You are a supervillain. Your nemesis calls you to say, "This is embarrassing, but I really need a date to my friend's wedding because my ex is going to be there. Would you go with me?" | "You can *not* be serious," Overlord stated dryly in response to the hero's offer. She was running several tracing programs to try and find out where he was calling from as soon as possible - he'd always been a pain in her side.
"Look, I- I know that this is a peculiar situation, but..." the hero meekly replied.
"Why me? Why not an escort or a friend or a stripper for Pete's sake? I mean why would you call the *one person* who you try to stop every other week from doing, oh, what *did* you call it? 'Evil Deeds', was it?"
"I stand by that," the hero replied resolutely.
"Why do you want me, of all people, to go to your friend's wedding as your date?"
"Told you. My ex will be there and-"
"No, I meant, why *me*?"
"Look, my ex, he's... well, he's, it- it's... I need to be there with someone..." he trailed off.
"Yes?" Overlord prodded him.
"...impressive," he finally finished. Overlord paused for a moment - this was... unexpected.
"Beg pardon?"
"Someone impressive. There, I said it again."
For once, Overlord found herself without words.
"I'm, uh, not sure what-"
"Emily," the hero started, further leading Overlord into confusion as he never used her actual name, "you are a genius. As in literally one of the smartest people on the planet. Your expertise in robotics and bioengineering alone is-"
"This doesn't make sense," she interrupted. "Are we just pretending we don't have destructive battles? That you try to stop me from what I am doing?"
"Of course not."
"Then why?"
"Because I know that there is, deep down, good in you," he said.
Overlord remained silent. She was used to long-winded speeches on morality and law. He never actually called her *good*.
"And I know that you could do great things if you wanted to. I... don't know what happened to you to turn you against the world, but I know you can overcome it. Maybe interacting in some normal ways with society could show you that... it's not all bad. There are some good things, too. Like cake. There *will* be cake."
Overlord still maintained her silence. Compliments felt... odd.
"And why would *I* come, then? Why should *I* bother?" she finally managed to ask.
"Because you'd love to see me sweat bullets as I frantically try to interact with my ex and his new partner," the hero said.
She chuckled.
"*And* the cake," he added.
"*Fine*," she said. "I'll pick you up at 3. I think arriving by flying in a swarm of drones should be *plenty* impressive," she laughed.
"Well, I suppose that's another thing you've never lacked," he said, audibly relieved and smiling.
"Presentation!" she grinned. | 1
Look, I felt bad, okay? I couldn’t just let the guy sit alone in a wedding while the newlyweds danced about. And, for what it’s worth, I learned many new things about him. Many, _many_ things….
I’m losing focus. The wedding. “Don’t push it,” I said, feeling his hand begin to grip tightly on my arm as we walked to the entrance of the venue. “Or I promise—“
“You look beautiful.” I couldn’t help blushing. Sure, I, well-endowed in beauty and in stunning attire, was _well_ aware of my appearance, but that hit me like a freight train.
A startled _Huh_ is all that came out. I paused, which confirmed to my nemesis (his name is John; I hated calling him that) my embarrassment. He tugged at my arm; I wasn’t going to move. “Well,” he started, “I was right. You _do_ feel embarrassment.” (For context, he’d been teasing me with flirtatious remarks in the limousine he’d hastily rented, trying to eke out a reaction, one I was not going to give him.)
“John!” I hadn’t meant to say that, or like that, which meant he was going to relentlessly mock me with it the next time we confronted each other.
“_Oh_.” said a nasally voice I wasn’t going to get used to. “You’re John’s new toy, aren’t you?”
He stopped dead, blushing. I’d say “in his tracks”, but I was fairly sure the tracks were burnt down. “_Cecilia_. Hey.”
He sounded like a deflated balloon.
Cecilia, for her… _everything_, was a looker, which was unfortunate, considering the circumstances, but I wasn’t about to let her ruin this; that was my responsibility. “I suggest you lower your tone before this venue holds your funeral.”
“Feisty.” Cecilia scoffed at me before turning to him. “You always liked a challenge, didn’t you?”
And with that, she walked into the venue alone. “What a gal,” I snarked.
My nemesis didn’t seemed too amused. “Ha ha.”
 
**TO BE CONTINUED**
***
 
_AN: I’ve just added the next part, but it’s at the bottom of the comments. Please make sure if you enjoyed this, that you’ve upvoted that post too._ | 2022-10-06T18:26:35 | 2022-10-06T17:28:32 | 2,322 | 379 |
[WP] An ancient manuscript is unearthed. It is proven to be the original Book of Revelation. After it is translated, there are actually FIVE Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Describe the Fifth Horseman, his color, and his contribution to the Apocalypse.
(Title) | Death. War. Famine. Pestilence. The four horsemen of the apocalypse; that deadly quartet of brothers who with them bring nought but a hurricane of suffering and misfortune. By many they are considered the harbingers of the end times, the heralds of the apocalypse, but those people forget their brother, the fifth horseman.
Following behind his entropic kin follows another horseman, his modus operandi differing markedly from his brothers, whilst remaining very much the same. He holds sway over his brothers, for without his workings they would know no purpose.
In the crimson, tumultuous wake of his compatriots, he furrows the earth and sows the seeds for a new beginning, and from these seeds sprout the worlds and empires that his brethren are destined to destroy. Thus again in their wake again he follows, sowing those very same seeds once again, perpetuating the eternal cycle. The cycle of death and rebirth.
His name is Life.
The fifth horseman of the apocalypse.
EDIT: some spelling and punctuation | When He broke the fifth seal, I heard the fifth living creature saying, “Come.” And as last, a brown horse, went out; the man who sat on him was chubby and round of face, an ugly sneer painted on it. A golden crown, a golden chain and a golden cloak, and hungry eyes peeking out over the horizon. "My daughters for a mansion, my wife for lands and my firstborn son for an army!", he exclaimed. With him came the power to influence men to be led astray of the path the Lord had tried to set man on with promises of wealth, power and glory.
His name is Greed.
EDIT: typo | 2015-09-22T14:41:27 | 2015-09-22T11:42:52 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] “How many people would have been better off had I not been born?” The genie snaps and a few numbers appear in the air and form 7,592. “Okay, how many people would benefit from my existence?” With the flip of a wrist the numbers spin to a whopping 137 trillion. “Okay.... how?” | A bead of sweat formed on the genie's brow, as he nervously searched for the right words to use, fully aware that he was about to deliver my fate.
"Your existence will result in the cure for cancer being developed, which will pave the way for hundreds of generations to come," he said, confident that he had delivered not only the truth, but a means of avoiding a difficult question.
"Oh wow!" I exclaimed, "do I develop the cure myself?"
The genie looked down at his whispy tail, and the glistening lamp he had emerged from. "Not exactly," he replied.
"Oh," I said, suddenly grasping what he meant. "I get cancer?"
The genie lit up. "Oh no no no, nothing like that!" he said, his tone finally shifting. "No you'll be pleased to know that you'll stay cancer free for the rest of your days."
"Great!" I chimed. "But how then? If I don't develop a cure, and I don't get the illness, then how could I help in the development of a cure?"
The genie cursed silently to himself, but he knew that holding out much longer would only prolong the inevitable. "Well, the man who develops the cure will do so as a direct result of your life," he began.
"Go on," I pressed.
"The man in question discovers the cure while serving time for murder."
My stomach dropped. "Mine?"
The genie slowly nodded.
"My... my murderer will result in the development of the cure for cancer?" I asked, the blood drained from my face. At least my life would have an impact on others, I thought to myself. What a way to go.
"Yes. He will discover the cure while researching his own cancer, using the knowledge of his prison library and a volunteer research group he will join," the genie explains.
"I suppose it's for the greater good then," I sighed, accepting my fate. "What kind of cancer does he have, out of interest?" I pry.
"Stomach cancer," the genie replies, "as a result of cannibalism." | Genie: Well, David, you may not know this but you're a bit of an asshole.
David: I am not, I even gave that guy the $20 he dropped yesterday
Genie: You we're trying to impress a girl with the $20 and you stole my lamp off of someone's porch.
David: You saw that?
Genie: I think we've established I know more than what my 5 senses have experienced.
David: Yeah whatever, but what about me being an asshole?
Genie: Oh right, well some day soon, you will encounter an elderly blind woman in a wheelchair sitting at a restaurant. When she asks you for katsup you give her the spicey saracha sauce instead. The whole thing gets cought on video, including you laughing and moving all her drinks away from her.
David: I'm not following...
Genie: The whole thing sparks a movement called "Don't be like David". Your name becomes shorthand for jerks taking advantage of people. Generations later being outed as a david is so bad that entire governments have been replaced with ednas.
David: Who the Hell is Edna?
Genie: She is the name of the woman in the wheelchair. Basically a non-david. You need to understand that for the first time in human history, people become kind as a rule instead of the exeption. At first it's out of fear of becoming a david, but then it gets ingrained in culture so deeply that it becomes second nature.
Poof! The genie goes back into his lamp.
David, ashamed, goes and puts the lamp back on the strangers porch. | 2018-08-15T06:31:04 | 2018-08-15T05:47:33 | 351 | 59 |
[WP] A ship full of alien scientists lands on Earth. They've been in cryosleep for 150 million years and were expecting to study dinosaurs. | "150 Million years, One hundred fifty million years. Nowhere in any of that time the computer picked up on the fact the one thing we were coming to this rock for is dead" Ensign Cragroc said. He'd never wanted to escort these eggheads across the universe and now it was all for nothing.
"Hey it's not the computers fault, an asteroid wiped them out. It would have turned around if all life had been wiped out, but apparently some lower life forms survived and it just figured it was them. It's not the worst thing that could happen" Dr.Yegnar replied observing the creatures gathering around their pod.
"Not the worst thing? Not the worst thing?! We've been away for 150 Million years! Everyone we knew is probably dead by now, if our species is still even there and you know what we're getting out of it. Nothing, Breen Egg. How is this not the worst thing Egghead!"
"Ensign calm down. You know everyone back home went into Cryosleep the same time we did. Besides our research is not for nothing, these creatures obviously survived here, it might be safe enough for us as well. Come on let's go out and see" Captain and Head Researcher Dr.Nog said.
"I guess your right"
"Of course I am, now let's go out and greet the locals" she said slipping on her space suit. Yegnar and Cragroc did the same. They stepped out ignoring the creatures for the moment.
"It's clear the atmosphere is oxygen rich" Yegnar said as the three of them slipped off their helmets. This seemed to upset the locals as they screamed, some running off, one saying "Dinosaurs".
"What's a Dinosaur?" Cragroc asked scratching his scaly head looking at Nog
"No idea, now come on grab a couple of these mammals we'll need to see if they're edible" she said starving for some meat.
"I'll check out the plants" Yegnar said glad to get the helmet off as it really chafed his horns.
"Do you really think we can live here?" Cragroc asked looking at the two scientists.
"Well creatures quite similar to our ancestors lived here before the mammals took over. If everything seems safe we'll call home and let them know, but in my opinion. I think we've found the new world we've been looking for" Nog said as she and Cragroc grabbed a couple of the talking mammals ready for some breakfast.
| In a dark, foggy room, a blue luminescence is radiating from two metal pods, arranged vertically, about the size of twin size beds. The transparent covers of the pods spring open and bodies rustle inside.
"Hey, Glarshnog. Pssst, Glaaaarshnog, you awake?"
"Yeah, I'm awake, Fusho, but my back is stiff as shit. How long were we sleeping anyway?"
"Like, one hundred and fifty million years."
"Huh, you would think after 150 million years of sleep you would wake up feeling refreshed, but nope, just tired and sore as usual."
"Tell me about it. But hey, at least we get to conduct some cool experiments on the fluffies. If I can ride one this whole trip will be worth it."
"We're not going to ride them, we're going to research them, and stop calling the gronks, fluffies, they're not fluffy. Why would call them fluffies?"
"Because I like the name ok, it just suits them better. And I WILL ride one."
Fusho walked outside and Glarshnog followed. There were hundreds of aliens, surrounding their ship, and some were holding weird metal pole things.
"Fluffies?"
"Where on the right planet, Fusho... I guess these aliens got here before us and wiped out the fluffies, I mean, gronks."
The aliens were yelling in their alien language and Fusho was valiantly holding back tears, but to no avail. Eventually the two scientists were detained and brought into a dark, foggy, room with two cells which held Fusho and Glarshnog.
"Cheer up Fusho! Maybe these aliens have other cool things we can ride, or maybe we can enslave them."
"snff, snff.. Really?"
"Sure" | 2014-04-29T19:34:19 | 2014-04-29T17:01:26 | 43 | 17 |
[WP] You have 30 seconds with an ancestor of yours from 200 years ago (1814), before they are transported back to their time. What do you say to them? What effect appears in our world because of it?
Consider for the sake of this prompt that they aren't totally freaked out by being plopped into 2014, that they can understand you, and that they'll continue their life as normal back in their time, only with the knowledge of whatever you told them with your 30 seconds time. | ## Change EVERYTHING
"Sir, you have fifteen seconds," the lady behind the counter said to me, "And remember, you are not allowed to disclose any information that may affect the future of this company. Should you attempt to do so, your ancestor will be terminated and you will be liable for the fullest extent of penalties incurred under the contract you've just signed.."
I nod, trembling while doing so. It was my first time. They say that first timers often don't say a thing, simply look at their ancestor and let them go. They visit several times afterward, always trying to build up the courage until they say something meaningful.
The rich, of course, came to see their ancestors almost quite regularly. So much so that they were able to get richer and richer over time, find their family secrets, stash away trinkets that were valueless in the past but grew to be extremely expensive in the present.
On others, it backfired. Their ancestors would not heed warnings, or acted completely aganst them. The backfire could propagate into crumbling of enormous corporate empires overnight. No one knew it happened until it was already done. And then no one remembered.
People like me, however, scraped by all their lives, hoping to make that big change by investing all their money to see their ancestor and improve everything in swift thirty seconds.
I practiced for hours. "Don't choke," was the thought in my head, running on repeat.
"Five seconds," the lady announced and sealed herself off. I was in a wooden cottage simulation, alone, awaiting my great-great-great, oh who knows how many, grandfather.
The man before me appeared promptly. He stared straight into my, completely unphased by what happened.
"Ahh, great great grandson. How is my little empire?"
I stared in disbelief, "What do you mean?"
He frowned, "Something went wrong. I should not have invested with those damn charlatans, should I have?"
"You've seen me before?"
"Oh yes, quite frequently. Quick, we only have a few seconds. What should I do?"
The timer was ticking away, loudly in my head.
"Things must have gone wrong. Don't do what I said last time. Remember me. Good luck!"
I walked out of the simulation, barely remembering what had happened.
"Hello sir, should I expect you next week?"
"I'll have my secretary arrange my next appointment. Thank you."
My phone vibrated with an email notification. The company merger was approved by the federal regulators, finally. | I was looking at my great great grandfather James Cater and wishing he would have taught his kids not to hate when all of a sudden he appears in front of me. I hear a voice in my head telling me that if I think I can do a better job then I have 30 seconds to make him changes his mind.
James is currently 12 years old and I say to him, one day you are going to have kids and it is important you teach them that everyone and I meam everyone is equal and has a right to their life. If not the world will be a horrible place to be. James says okay he will try and then he is gone.
Let me explain a little something. Apparently my great grandfather was the reason the south won the civil war and ultimately caused America to start being indignant towards the rest of the world in the mid nineteen hundreds Americas president decided to start killing all people that werent "American enough". Well the world retaliated and America is now a wasteland. The bombs from every countries arsenal landed in every city with over 5000 people and the damage done to infrastucture is beyond repair. There wasnt a government left to surrender.
The voice says in my head, lets see how you did. You will keep your memories of this but the rest of the world would never believe you.
All of a sudden my new life floods in. It turns out James made so much of a point about people being equal that his sons went and fought for the north even though they were residents of north carolina.
America fought a tough war but eventually thw north won and the slave were freed. It seems that residual hate of blacks still exists though 149 years after the end of the civil war.
A man named Hitler tried to make the world hate people that were different and the world joined forces to wnsure this would never happen again.
I dont understand why people feel the way they do. Why would anyone want to try and prevent someone from just having a fair shake in life?
I am not sure if the world is better or not but I am now at least proud of my family. | 2014-05-09T08:44:55 | 2014-05-09T05:25:48 | 70 | 15 |
[WP] The team's healer is absolutely sick and tired of always being insulted or forgotten about so they join the bad guys; they are a much more terrifying villain than anyone thought possible. | "I just need more time" the healer said. "If you would take a few minutes to plan and let me do my work instead of rushing into danger, we wouldn't have to keep doing this" As he spoke his hands ran across the Paladins chest, a warm glow spilling across the slowly closing wounds.
"Evil waits for no one", the paladin replied. "If you're too cowardly to do Men's work, then we don't need you with us. You'll only be a liability."
The glow stopped as the healer's hands fell to his sides. "Cowardly? Do you know how many times I've saved your life? I've lost count. Even beyond that, I have resurrected you a dozen times. You were gone, beyond all conventional help, held in the grasp of your precious Gods. I pulled you back. Me. Do you think it's easy? Do you think it's guaranteed? And if I fall who is there to wrest me from the clutches of death. You? You whose magic is only good for killing those you disagree with? The wizard perhaps? His version of resurrection is something I would not subject my worst enemies to. None of the others could come close."
"It's your job. You get your share like everyone else. Now quit your complaining and finish patching me up." The paladin took a swig from his flask.
"No."
"No? You don't get to say no. This is your job. It's the only thing you bring to the party. "
"No."
The Paladin stood to his feet, slightly reinvigorated by the healing already received. He glared down at the healer with contempt in his eyes. "Then you can go. We never needed you. I have slayed dragons and giants. I can find an eager replacement within the fortnight."
The healer smiled, faintly, with just a hint of a tear forming in his eye. "You will never replace me. I know you better than you know yourself. I know every wound you've received and how. I know every moment of pain and weakness you've felt. I know you. And I know you will live to regret this." He gathered his belongings without another word, the uncomfortable silence spreading through the camp as the rest of the party came to realize what was happening. The ranger gave a solemn nod, and that was the only goodbye he received. As he rode into the fading light of dusk, he feared not the things that lurked in the dark places of the world, instead he reflected on his past adventures, the many lives he'd returned to the world as his companions stripped others from it, and as a smile came to his face, he whispered to himself, "Dragons and giants."
Months later as the gate to the Paladin's keep came crashing down, with all of his vanquished enemies swarming, competing to claim their vengeance, he heard a familiar voice calling above the horde. "Don't worry, there's enough for everyone. You can kill him as many times as you like"
Edit: Thanks for all the love! I'm very glad you guys enjoyed my little story, and sorry so many of you related to it. | "Please, I beg you, I'm sorry!"
Janivar hated this part, the begging.
"Shut up. Lord Tansalon has passed his judgement. I am merely here to execute his will. Don't take it personally."
The man was bound to the pyre. Janivar had built it himself. He was very good at building fires. He was usually left behind to tend the fire, cook the meals, pitch the tends, and eventually healing the so called heroes. That was before he discovered his true potential.
Janavir toyed with the man. "What did you do to warrant this rather than a simple hanging? Slandered Lord Tansalon? Eyed one of his dark wives? Stole from him?"
The bound man flinched.
"That's it! What did you steal? I do hope it was worth it."
"I merely skimmed the tithes. Just a bit; no one would have ever known."
"He sees all. It's not just a saying. He is a gifted Seer. Do you know much about the magical talents?"
The bound man was silent.
"I am a gifted Healer. I can see the confusion on your face. I've had to explain this to many before you. I could lay hands on you and heal; any novice Healer can do that. I can bind the healing power to this amulet."
He held up an unremarkable looking necklace.
"Normally the wearer would be instantly healed from most injuries. People pay me handsomely for these. This one is for you."
Janavir raised the amulet high and began chanting. A wind swept through the woods and a general feeling of well being washed over them. The man was briefly relieved of the pain in his bindings. Janavir placed the amulet around the man's neck.
"Everyone knows magic requires energy. This amulet will use fire energy to heal you. Unfortunately you will also be the fire."
He lit the pyre. The man struggled ineffectively. The flames washed over him. His clothing burned away and then the outer layers of his skin. The amulet glowed and his skin grew back only to be burned away again. He screamed. Normally his vocal chords would become tired, but those too healed.
This went on for some hours. Eventually the fire would burn low and the amulet would expire. If he was lucky there would be enough smoke to asphyxiate him. More likely he would survive the ordeal with hideous burns.
Janavir hoped he survived. Burned men were a good deterrent to thievery. | 2020-01-05T12:01:26 | 2020-01-05T11:58:20 | 317 | 43 |
[WP] On every planet, there is one being who is a living recorder for everything that happens. During the yearly recorder meeting, one always comes in emotionally drained. “Look. It’s the guy that has earth” | The doors opened violently and smashed the walls as they swung. A guy with a half unbuttoned dress shirt and a loose tie came in, he was carrying a bottle of vodka and a small glass. The hall had around 200 people in it and all turned to see the commotion.
"Whoops, sorry about that. Light doors. Please, go on! Let's party!"
"Who is that? Is he drunk?" A woman stretched to stand taller by the window as the sun shone on her.
"It's Bob, the guy from earth. He's a mess, he'd been fine for a few years. Seems like he relapsed. Shame." The man was drinking small sips of water from a bottle.
"How did you know it was me? Are you tracking me? Did you put up 5G yet in here?"
"What's a 5G, Bob? A short woman walked to him and stood about arm's lenght.
"Ohh, its the new human thing. Bad joke. You wouldn't understand it."
"Why are you drinking again?" The woman whispered
"Oh this?" Bob grabbed the small glass and left it on the table, then looked at the bottle and drank directly from it. "Yeah, that's better."
The young short woman tried to take the bottle away from him and they struggled until he pushed her away. "I need it! This year suuuucks. Who thought it was a good idea to send a pandemic? Was it you Barbara?!"
"We all got pandemics."
"Oh, we all got pandemics." Bob mocked Barbara. "Yeah, but you don't have humans." He took another gulp.
"You know, for all the horrible things humans do I did learn a couple of things from them."
Barbara back away.
"It is what it is. Why worry about it? Why worry about hunger and war and disease and all of that when you can just party!"
"What are you talking about, Bob?"
"Come on, like we care about them. We are here partying and giving them pandemics. Those two over there? Consuming sun and water like a couple of b"
"Ok, that's enough."
"No! I'm not done. There's so much going on and I can't keep it in. You all act like you are better than humans."
"What's worse than a human? Hahaha" An old man asked from his seat.
"You are. You all are worse than humans." Bob took a step forward as the listening crowd shuffled uncomfortable.
"You put them in horrible positions as if they're entertainment. I mean, yes they also do that, hahaha, but they're improving." Bob slammed the bottle on the table. "And you. You are getting worse."
The silence in the room was deafening as all eyes were on the newcomer.
"Earth will no longer be yours to toy with. I'm releasing it from your binding." | "That's right... Earth is the most stressful thing I've ever been assigned..."
"Still as gaseous as ever, huh?"
"Han, don't confuse Earth with Venus!!"
"Shut up, Tassa! Both planets are gassed in the air, aren't they?!"
"But," the Earth recorder Gen replied wearily, "Earth is getting gassed air thanks to the humans' dirty deeds..."
"I knew it!" Han, recorder for Mars, exclaimed. "Will there be any way to get them to stop!?"
"As the recorder for Planet 60991," Anjil spoke, "another planet that has life, I totally get it. Sentient beings on any planet are a bloody virus!"
"Factories built daily, animals killed daily for food, empty promises to save the planet, false gods created by ancient cults..." Gen replied in a shaky voice, "It's why I'm so drained. If only there were a way anyone could actually do something about the damn climate change and restoration of the nature..."
"You know what?" Han blurted, "I bet each and every planet with sentient life ought to have a guide! Like, a real guide who can help them change their ways!"
"That'll be hard, Han." Tassa, recorder for Venus, spoke. "It's in sentient animals' nature to never listen to guides! They only listen to themselves!"
"Every thing I've recorded..." Gen spoke wearily, "shows nothing but horror. Murders, the chopping down of trees, animal bloodshed... it's what made me so drained... When will humans ever learn?"
"That's the trick question." Corran, the recorder for Saturn, spoke. "Sentient beings never learn! They only listen to their own hearts, and their hearts guide them toward evil!"
"And I thought Enma-sama had the most stressful job, sending souls to either heaven or hell!" Anjil exclaimed. "You, Gen, have the most draining job of recording everything on Earth!"
"As a living recorder for Earth, I cannot stop the job..." Gen explained, "Everything that happens is so much. The records are so that the true gods, not like the false ones from the ancient cults that are still active, can do their jobs too."
"Well, that concludes the meeting," Ryo, leader of the Recorders, declared. "See you next year! I hope we can find some way to guide the Earth towards safety!" | 2021-08-13T08:05:58 | 2021-08-13T07:53:22 | 54 | 34 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | I wasn't a dad, I bought one ironically. The day the mugs changed, a tiny black hole opened up where my mug used to sit next to my coffee maker. My Keurig and no one in a fifteen mile radius noticed, as they were instantly ripped into the basic building blocks of life, which were then ripped into their smallest components and shrunk down to the size of the void where my mug sat. Within two minutes the entire East Coast was gone. By 6:05am in what had been Eastern Standard Time (before the East Coast disappeared) the entire Earth was gone. As I watched in horror from the view port of the International Space Station, my colleague who had brought his #1 Dad mug with him at the request of his children never noticed. He was too enthralled with why the number on his mug has jumped from 1 to 7,986,922 then gradually back to 1 to notice his impending doom. | Sitting at the kitchen table Jacob stared out of the window and sipped a coffee from his "1# Dad" mug.
Suddenly there was a fizzing and spluttering sound and the #1 Dad appeared to melt from his mug revealing a #2,045,834 Dad behind.
He stared for a moment then said.
"Well shit... That's not bad at all." Then he grabbed a rich tea and dunked it in.
The end. | 2017-06-11T10:07:25 | 2017-06-11T09:19:40 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] You’ve been stuck in a time loop that repeats the same day over and over. You’ve perfected every skill, you speak every language ever spoken. One day you go crazy, by the end of the day the entire town is dead. You wake up the next morning still covered in blood, the loop finally broke. | They don't tell you about the smell of blood. I lived my whole life and no one ever told me about the smell of blood. It's coppery. I think I remember someone telling me that once. And it does smell like someone dropped me in a room with a fuck ton of pennies, but blood, it's also organic so it rots. So it smells like a fuck ton of pennies that have been sitting in hot garbage for a day or so.
I've been stuck in this town for a millenia. When I say it like that it actually sounds kinda cool. The problem is that it has been a millenia of the same days. I laugh when I think of that old saying "a month of Sundays". It's so funny. I know. I know. Ground Hog Day but I tried learning my lessons. I tried being a better man. But it never stopped.
I was benevolent for more than two hundred years. The internet still worked so I learned everything that I could languages, mathematics, engineering, medicine, all of it. I had time after all and I kept my memories. I made wonderful inventions. Incredible breakthroughs. But the next day they were gone. Like I'd never done anything at all. So, eventually I stopped.
As we all know there are other things on the internet. So, for a few hundred years I fell down that rabbit hole. It's amazing what people will post on the internet of them doing. After watching these things I found I wanted to give some of them a try. It was scary the first time. I guess I still had morals back then. I felt bad. She screamed a lot. But the next day what I had done had been erased. Just like my inventions and breakthroughs. So I did it again. And again. Different people. Even other guys. Always the same though, when I woke up, no one remembered and nothing had changed.
It's hard to keep track of days when they're basically all the same and even sex can get boring so I started hunting them. Dismembering them. Eating them. They always came back to life and they never remembered so it didn't really feel like I was doing anything wrong. That's when I got an idea. I would kill everyone in town. There were well over 400 people the town proper and the surrounding area. Finding ways to kill everyone in a twenty-four hour period would be hard, but it would give me something to do. So that's what I did. I'm pretty sure it took me about fifteen years of the same day to finally get it right, but I got all of them.
That was yesterday. | "Fuck." i muttered. Well, at first i just sat in silence for some minutes. Shocked. Horrified. All those words don't really describe the feelings i had in those first minutes.
The last, well i think centuries, had been boring as hell. Or maybe it had been hell. Repeating that godforsaken day for eternity had finally gotten me to the point where I killed everyone in town. But, with the expectation in my mind to continue my existence here on the next day. But well, apparently it wasn't to be.
An second "fuck" left my mouth. I was covered in blood, standing two meters away from where i fell asleep last night. The room was still covered in bodies. And blood. Much blood. How did i even kill that many people? i asked myself.
"Ok. Now what?" were my next said words. I went to the window, because the sound of a driving car suprised me. The people inside finally had the town square in their field of view. I saw the driver looking shocked, letting go of the steering wheel... And crashing into an street lamp. The woman on the other front seat screamed horrifically, as she saw the square with 20 dead bodies on it. Killing some of them had been more fun than others. Old Mrs Lannerham had been the best. She always called me boy. Every fucking day. Seeing that smile leave her face while i hacked her into bits had been great. But apparently others didn't think so. Her body was so disfigured that i understood the screaming woman though.
The driver took out his mobile and started calling someone. I opened the window as quiet as i could. Not like they had looked even if i sang as loud as i could. They were absolutely mesmerized by the look of the town square. The man stuttered: "Uhm, p-p-police? We are here in Hintertupfingen, and eh... ehh. It seems the town square is covered in dead." after some seconds he continued, now angry. "No, I'm not joking, send someone here. Now!"
An quiet "Shit" left my mouth. I needed to get out of town. For good. | 2019-08-11T09:38:39 | 2019-08-11T08:50:59 | 130 | 35 |
[WP] You run a tattoo parlor. Every couple of weeks, the same customer comes in, always requesting the same tattoo: an additional tally mark on an ever-growing cluster of tally marks. | The shop's bell rang, Mason could barely hear it over the buzz of his tattoo gun and death metal blaring from the small stereo in the back. Mason looked up from the butterfly tattoo he was doing on the college girls ankle and saw him. Tally. That was the nickname Mason had given the man because of the very specific tattoo he requested every two weeks like clockwork. After tattoo seventeen Mason had just started clearing his schedule for him. Tally nodded and sat down in a chair in the small lobby and waited for Mason to finish. With a few final lines and filling the butterfly was done and the the girl just absolutely loved it.
Mason walked up to Tally and extended a tattoo covered hand.
"Nice to see you again," Mason said with a smile.
"You too Mason, shop looks like it's doing well," Tally replied.
"Oh you know the usual, butterflies, stars, anchors, regular shit tattoos. You ready?"
"Of course," Tally said standing up and walking to the chair. He held out his left arm, the entire length of his forearm was tally marks, he was up to forty-six.
Mason had asked Tally once before what the tattoo signified but he was met with stony silence, but Mason wasn't one to give up.
"How many does this make?" Mason asked already knowing the answer.
"Forty-seven."
"Forty-seven what?"
"Forty-seven reasons to mind your own business." Tally stared Mason down.
Tally wasn't the largest man, but his gaze was unsettling, it made Mason's skin crawl.
"Fair enough."
Mason fired up his tattoo gun and got to work. It didn't take more than a few minutes to line it up with the existing tally marks and put the black ink into the man's arm.
"I need to apologize," Tally said his eyes cast downward, "I was being a dick."
"It's fine, I shouldn't have pried. Tattoos are personal, I should know that better than anyone."
"You are a good guy, I trust you Mason." Tally took a deep breath. "I'll tell you what the tattoo means."
Silence hung in the air between the two men.
"Each tally mark is a rescued dog."
"What?" Mason asked.
"I spent a few years in prison and while I was in there the thing I missed the most was my dog," Tally began, "while I was inside my dog passed away because there was no one there to care for him. So I made it my mission to help dogs that are in bad homes and I place them with loving families. Each tally mark is a dog that is in a new home."
"That...that is amazing. I would tell everyone that's what those marks are for!" Mason said with a broad grin.
"Well, let's just keep it between us," Tally said as he rose from the chair and handed Mason one hundred dollars in cash.
"That's way too much," Mason began to object.
"You deserve it, keep running an honest business we need more people like you in the world," Tally said as he walked out the door, the small bell ringing as the door swung open and shut.
"What a great guy," Mason said to himself.
In the corner of the tattoo parlor a news bulletin broke in over a day time talk show.
"Three bodies found in what appears to be an underground dog fighting ring. The police are ruling it a multiple homicide. More details at six," the slick haired man in a sharp suit said.
Mason paused for a second then shook his head.
"Naaah."
---
Thanks for reading!! Check out /r/Written4Reddit | Chris opened the door, rang the bell as he passed the check-in desk, and took a seat.
"Same as usual," he grunted. I don't have a lot of repeat customers at McDowell Tattoos, but this guy must have some kind of record.
I sighed and gave a little chuckle. "You really do make my job easy, you know that, Chris? People come in wanting, like, stained glass designs and movie posters on their backs, and you just want a little straight line. It's...refreshing."
Chris shrugged. "I dunno, Terry. It's just important to me."
I went over to my desk to rummage through supplies. "Whatever you say."
*
"So you got my email? I have the last couple forms here."
Chris handed the assistant manager several complex-looking forms and offered a forced smile.
The manager didn't even bother to glance at them. "I'm sorry, Chris. I mean, you know we have to do a background check with this sort of thing. And with a criminal record like yours..."
"What are you saying?"
"I really hate to have to tell you this. You seem like a hardworking man." The manager slid the papers back across the desk. "Best of luck."
Chris gave a curt nod, stood up abruptly, and walked straight down aisle 12. Then he kicked open the back door of Harry's Hardware and screamed into the night air.
His hands gripped the forms tightly -- so many damn forms, and for what? -- then tore them to pieces and stuck them in a nearby trash can.
He ran his fingers up his left arm and counted the tally marks in his head. Fifteen. One for each struggle, each rejection.
*
"So you're really not gonna tell me? I mean, I think at this point I might even have a *right* to know."
I pressed the needle gently into Chris's arm and slid it down. Perfect.
"Quit asking me shit and just do the job," he said, uncharacteristically brusque. When the deed was done, he shook my hand and slid some cash into my palm. Not much, but then again, it was just a tally mark.
"Terry, man, I really don't appreciate you prying into my personal life, OK?" I thought I saw tears welling up in his eyes, but he turned towards the door before I could be sure. A few steps later, he paused.
"And you really should look into getting a three-coil system for this place. People are getting more and more complex designs, y'know, they aren't all gonna be like me."
I stroked my chin. "Hey, Chris, hold on a second."
He stayed where he was.
"How much do you know about this whole process?" I asked.
"Well, I mean, I'm in here all the time. You kind of pick up on some things."
I placed the needle on the front desk. "You know, I hear there's this great tattoo parlor on McDowell Street that's looking for some interns."
Chris turned around and grinned -- the only genuine grin I think I'd ever seen from him.
"I'll have to tell them I'm interested."
| 2016-07-09T09:02:56 | 2016-07-09T08:57:58 | 150 | 45 |
[WP] Bob doesn't realise he's the last man on Earth because he's still receiving packages from Amazon. | August 25th 2017
Dear Diary,
It’s been about three months since the big ebola scare. I haven’t been outside other than just opening the door to pick up my Amazon packages. I haven’t heard from my sister for about two months. I hate talking to people, but I was willing to talk to her that day. We said goodbye just in case. I haven’t heard any messages from a hospital or lawyer so I assume she’s fine. I tried to call her, I picked up the phone and started dialing. I got as far as the first ring before I hung up. I’ll take my medication and try again tomorrow.
Robert.
August 26th 2017
Dear Diary,
Once again, I attempted to call my sister. I sweat so much that I had to shower afterwards. As soon as I heard her voice I blurted out “I HOPE YOU’RE OKAY” before realizing it was her answering machine. I hung up immediately. It’s been four hours and I’m still trembling. I took a walk today. I couldn’t break view of the house, so I didn’t bother going into the bushes or trees. I checked my car in case of emergencies, it still works. I hope I remember how to drive.
Robert.
August 27th 2017
Dear Diary,
I’ve almost finished my latest book. Five months is a new record. I wonder if it’s been my lack of distractions. I got a call today, I let it go to the machine, I won a trip to the Caribbean apparently. It was an automated message recording. I don’t think I would enjoy the trip. I sent the first draft to my publisher via email. I imagine he’ll get back to me within the week. I hate checking my email.
Robert.
August 29th 2017
Dear Diary,
Still no reply from my publisher. I hate checking my email.
Robert.
Sept 5th 2017
Dear Diary,
My publisher still has not contacted me. Amazon delivered my groceries finally, but the meat products are already past their expiry date. Any normal person would complain, I’ll just stick to canned goods for now. Note: Next grocery order, get some more medication.
Robert.
Sept 10th 2017
Dear Diary,
Still no reply from my publisher. I created a website and have begun selling PDF copies as of midnight tonight. The internet is a wonderful place. Sales will probably be slow at first, since I’ve never done this before, but a few here and there and the word should get out.
Robert.
Sept 11th 2017
Dear Diary,
No sales yet.
Robert.
Sept 12th 2017
Dear Diary,
No sales yet.
Robert.
Sept 17th 2017
Dear Diary,
Still no sales. Nothing from my publisher, nothing from my sister. No interview requests. I wonder if the world finally understands what I’m going through. Today is a glorious day, even if my newest book isn’t selling. I visited that reddit website for the first time today. Posted a link to the shop, hopefully there will be some sales tomorrow.
Robert.
Sept 18th 2017
Dear Diary,
I guess reddit didn’t work out. Oh well, I’m doing okay. My amazon delivery was only canned goods today, plus my medication. This month has been almost perfect so far. No one’s bothered me at all. It’s like everyone else on the planet was gone. I doubt it will last forever, so I’ll enjoy it while it does.
Robert
Edit: formatting, name | “The person you are trying to call is unavailable,” the automated voice said. “Please hang up and try your call again.”
“Oh what the fuck,” Bob sighed. The last three packages sent to him by Amazon were empty boxes. Bob ordered Xbox 360 games, taking advantage of lowered prices since the release of the Xbox One. He’d been waiting for *Fallout: New Vegas* for what seemed to him a long, long time—three or four days, anyway.
Bob’d only called Amazon five or six times; significantly less than the last time this happened. Earlier that week the tap water’d turned a brownish colour—now he couldn’t even take that shower he’d been planning. In terms of other necessities Bob hadn’t worried in quite some time. He lived on dry foods stored for the better part of the past year. His mother sent him boxes and boxes with food when he first moved out, but hadn’t sent anything in a while. Crates of Redbull and Mountain Dew lined his walls.
*Well, I guess I could go over there and see what’s going on*, he thought. *It’s only a fifteen minute walk*.
Bob saved his game, tried smelling himself, and stepped outside into the fresh white sunlight. The light’s whiteness was unmatched in comparison to the whiteness of his skin—a skin that hadn’t met that light in months.
The walk over had been quiet and empty—not unlike childhood sick days spent in the quiet workweek of suburbia. He walked through the front door of the Amazon headquarters. No one answered his mumbled calls. Nauseous and uncomfortable, he decided to go back home.
_______________________________________________________________________________
“The person you are trying to call is unavailable,” the automated voice said. “Please hang up and try your call again.”—Bob heard this over and over. His mother wouldn’t answer, his friend wouldn’t answer, the Gamestop down the road wouldn’t answer.
Bob spent much of the next couple weeks looking out the window. In this time he saw three cars pass along what used to be a traffic jammed street during rush hour. Had the rapture his mother went on and on about finally come? He roamed the world of *Fallout 3*, picturing himself in a similarly emptied wasteland.
And then, a couple weeks later, he awoke not to the one-PM sunlight shining into his eyes, but to the triple-knocking delivery man.
“UPS,” the voice called. “Hello?”
Bob jumped to his feet and answered the door in one motion.
“Hi,” Bob said. “Hi, hi.”
“Mr. Smith?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Few packages here for you.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Thanks so much.”
Bob looked past the man at four great boxes stacked one upon the other.
“All this?”
“Seems like it,” he said. “Sent from Missouri.”
“Oh.”
Bob closed the door with tears in his eyes. Inside the packages were bags of dried foods. The note read, “LOVE YOU. COME HOME IF FEELING LONELY. ALWAYS AVAILABLE. — MOM”
Bob keeled over and wept. After a few minutes he got up, packed a knapsack and headed into the ever-white light. | 2015-04-27T09:16:46 | 2015-04-27T08:58:32 | 34 | 12 |
[WP] Officially, you're a weak, D rank villain. Unofficially, you're one of the strongest beings on the planet that is secretly employed to "train" fledgling heroes by giving them an easy first real fight. But one day an A rank villain crashes your heist and you must protect your "students". | Nighttime. Perfect time for a heist... the ordinary mortals would be unable to see through the darkness of night, leaving them out of my way. No sense in harming those that have not earned it, after all.
I adjusted the last few straps on my gaudy outfit and made my way to the bank, where the lower-ranking heroes would easily hear of my "evil-doing" and arrive to stop me. That was, after all, my purpose-a sort of glorified training dummy, meant to empower others and train them to become better and stronger.
As I approached the building, I smiled a little to myself; who, I wonder, would best me tonight? Plasti-Girl? The Nuclear Pile? Perhaps Shark Wonder...
"Well, well, well, lookie who we have here."
That voice... I glanced up to see Meteor laying atop a lightpole, smirking at me as a small swarm of his space-rocks orbited around him. I gave him a nod as I passed by. "Meteor. What is a high-ranking villain such as yourself doing out and about?"
"Oh, ya know, takin a walk, enjoyin the night... plannin on a heist. Villain stuff. Easy pickins, there's no high-ranking heroes to stop me here! Just a buncha low-level wet wipes."
"You *are* aware that this is my territory, yes? And what is someone that is wanted for destroying a city doing here? Surely you have better things to do."
Meteor laughed at that, sliding from his perch and sauntering over to me. "Boredom, ya old fart. Gets dull being at the top, and I wanna pop some skulls tonight! Those high-level heroes are so hard to kill, but the low-level ones?" He grinned as his meteors grew a little in size, collecting stray matter from the air and adding it to their mass. "Oh, I can crush em like ants."
"I did not take you to be a coward."
"Shut it, old man." The brazen young mortal gave me a shove; my eye twitched, but I refrained from lashing out. "You ain't got shit on me. I'm an A-grade villain! I could smash this city to a pulp if I wanted to! And what can you do?! You're just a show pony that can sometimes turn invisible! Now, I'm gonna go kill some of those little fucks. And you better not get in my way, or else."
Oh dear. This... I could not allow this to happen. I sighed to myself as he began to saunter off; there was no other resort, I supposed...
"I suppose I'll have to deal with you myself, then."
Meteor turned to me, face twisted in anger. "What was tha-?!" He abruptly stopped and went pale as he saw my form begin to writhe and distort. "...the hell...?"
Whispers filled the air around us as I began to shed my body, a black mass of eyes and gibbering mouths and writhing tentacles crawling from a costume of flesh and bone towards the villain. *"You mortals are all the same. You have so much hubris, and yet you are so very frail."*
"Wh-what the fuck?! **What the fuck?!"** His meteors grew in size until they were as large as SUVs; he sent them crashing into my body as I crawled towards him, to no avail. They merely became a part of my, my multitudes of eyes glaring at the panicking villain.
*"Weak. And pathetic. Just like the rest of your kind."* I wrapped a tentacle around him; he began to scream and writhe, forming more meteors and futilely shooting them at me. *"But... I do not think you fully comprehend the fact of how pathetic you are."*
"No. No. God. Please. Let me go. Let me go. I don't wanna die! I DON'T WANNA DIE!"
*"Ǫ̴̉h̴̛̳,̵͠ͅ ̶̗̇ý̶̢o̵͐ͅu̵̩͑ ̵͖̎w̷̗͒i̸̫͒ļ̵̿l̶̝̂ ̴̼͋n̴͈̋ȯ̶̝t̶̩̾ ̶̡͌d̷̞́ì̴̲e̸͓̕ ̷̡͝t̶̞̀o̷̹̅n̸̿ͅǐ̴͇g̷̨̉h̷̬̾t̶̬͘,̷̘͠ ̶͋ͅc̵̡̕h̷̬̎i̵͎͛ḻ̷̀d̸͖͠ ̸̲̊o̶̗̅f̷͈̽ ̴̝̈́A̷̙͘d̵̘̕a̴͈̽ḿ̵͕,"* I murmured softly, resting a tentacle upon his forehead. *"B̴͈̊u̷̺̅t̶͍̒.̴͖͐.̵̝͠.̵̲̄ ̴̺̎ý̷̝o̸͎̕u̸̦͌ ̴̙́w̷̩̍i̷̇͜l̸̘͝l̴̉ͅ ̵̛̯w̵͕̔i̷̢̕s̸̟͝h̸͇͘ ̶̟̽ṭ̸͐h̵̞̿a̴̭͐t̶̫̑ ̵̘͆Ÿ̸̹́ō̶͚t̶̠̉h̷͍̃ả̶̰l̷̞̈ơ̶̯t̸̤̉h̸̘͋u̷̼͝ ̵̖͠g̴̰̾r̴̟̊a̴̻͌n̸͔̈t̷͔̿ë̶͍́d̶̜͂ ̶͈̃y̴͙̽õ̴̩u̴̡͌ ̵̹̆d̶̝͝ė̵̮a̶̠͐t̴͇̊h̵̩́.̶̣͂ "*
And as the frail, pathetic mortal watched, as he soiled his pants and screamed, I filled his mind with profane, unknowable things. Eldritch truths, alien knowledge, visages of extradimensional beings... things no mortal mind can comprehend. I watched his brain melt before my very eyes to protect itself, slowly shutting itself down so that it may not have to bear such knowledge. I watched him devolve into a drooling, babbling mess, his mind little more than mush now.
But my knowledge flowed ever onward, never ceasing until his brain finally shut itself off.
He died with a contorted scream twisting his face, the visage of a mortal who had witnessed ultimate horror; the knowledge of his place in the universe, and his inherent meaninglessness in all the grand stage of reality. I slunk back into my mortal casing, setting Meteor's body aside to be discovered later, and continued on my way.
I had heroes to train, after all. And what sort of guardian of humanity would I be if I couldn't even teach the mortals how to defend themselves? | "Hello, class, I'm Juleel, also known as The Deceiver, an Ex-A-Ranker Villain..." he spoke whilst pacing back forth near the blackboard attached to the wall, writing on it with swift strokes from his chalk with each step he made, "but, do not fret, I've reformed from my devious lifestyle, now, I would like to teach the next generation of heroes how to fight against evil by revealing 'our methods and our motives,' any questions?"
"You're a reformed villain?" A boy called out with a name tag on his forehead, reading out 'Fledge,' raising his hand from the back of the lecture hall with confusion strewn about his befuzzled face.
"Yes..."
"And you're name is The Deceiver?..." he continued, narrowing his eyebrows and squinting his eyes dubiously as he looked Juleel up and down.
"... Alright, I can see why you would be skeptical of me..."
"That full latex suit with blood on your boots isn't helping your case either... --"
"Any other questions?!" Juleel shouted dismissively as he stared daggers in the boy's direction, seemingly causing him to faint back into his seat. A loud thud resonates from the room as the boy hit his head on the metal table in front of him, sending the room into a panic.
"What was that?!" A girl called out, pointing toward the fainted boy with shock painting her disgruntled face, eyeing down Juleel as it snarkily lifted his ovular glasses onto his face, correcting the crooked glasses as he walked toward his desk, sitting down casually as the once stagnant room inflamed.
Juleel kicks his feet on the desk, revealing his bloodied black latex boots, smearing them across the light-brown laminated oak desk. "Hmm... maybe theirs a villain in our midst..." he spoke skeptically, grinning meekly before picking up a book and plastering over his face, blocking the students from viewing him as a burst of slow deep laughter resonated from an unknown source.
"So many fresh pludglings to swallow..." a voice spoke out gruffly, nearly indiscernible as it coughed hoarsely from its excessive laughter. A pile of light-green goop shoots out of a drain in the room, spitting out droplets of itself across the room, landing on each and every student.
"-- That voice!"
"Recognize me?..." the voice spoke as another slop of goo forced itself through the drain through its narrow gaps, slicing itself slowly before launching out of it, breaking the lid of the drain, sending it flying toward the boy who'd fallen asleep earlier, hitting him on his again, "I'm almost flattered... to think you'd know about a villain of my ranking..."
"D-rank villain known for his abundant power in hand-to-hand combat, The Gobbler..." the boy who'd been hit on the head twice spoke groggily as he awoke before falling asleep once again, hitting his head on the desk for the third time.
"Thanks for the introduction... It'd appear I came to the right place, albeit a little late..." The Gobbler spoke, lingering in between his words as the viscous goo on the ground began to manifest into the shape of a human, bubbling viciously as it built itself upward.
"Teacher! Do something!" A girl cried out as her skin began to turn green. She began to foam at the mouth before falling to the ground, falling sick to the goo that touched her previously, causing her to faint. Other students began to follow suit, foaming at the mouth before fainting onto the ground. The boy who'd hit his head three times awakens once again before fainting, hitting his head on the edge of the desk, flipping the sewer lid that'd sat there, causing it to flip over, hitting on the head once more.
"Ow..."
Juleel puts down his book hastily before lifting it back up even faster, hoping that The Gobbler hadn't seen his face.
"Juleel? What are you doing here?"
"I-I'm not Juleel, I-I'm... Javid..."
"Oh, sorry, you looked familiar... by the way, what are you doing at my desk?
"T-t-t-t-t-t-this is your d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d," Juleel attempted to speak as his endless stuttering failed to make sense.
"Well, I'm sure it was an honest mistake. Are you new to the school as well?"
"Y-yes..."
"... Wait a second..." The Gobbler spoke dubiously as he scrutinized Juleel, "what's on your boots?"
"Strawberry jam..."
"Oh, can I have some!?" The Gobbler spoke curiously as he carried himself across the room, licking his lips before coming into contact with Juleel.
Juleel awaits for him to close in, kicking him right as The Gobbler began to lick on his shoe. The Gobbler catches Juleel's foot in his mouth, licking it clean within seconds as Juleel attempting to remove himself from The Gobbler's death grip.
"This isn't strawberry jam..." The Gobbler spoke as he licked the already clean boot once more, "this is nail polish!"
"How'd you know what that tastes like?!"
"Thats besides the point! You aren't a teacher! Nail polish was prohibited from usage twelve years ago during the nail polish eating incident that took place that sent fourteen children to the hospital, one of whom was named James!"
"What!?"
"It's you, isn't it? Juleel!?"
"No..."
"Oh, sorry, I must've been mistaken..." The Gobbler spoke, rubbing his head out of embarrassment as Juleel steadily positioned the book around his face that he wouldn't be seen, "anyways, I hope to see you around campus. I'll be needing my desk back now if you don't mind..." The Gobbler spoke awkwardly as he stood at the foot of his desk, releasing Juleel's foot from his gaping mouth with goo littering every inch of it.
"Nice to meet you too..." he spoke cautiously as he removed his feet from the desk, "I'll be going now then..."
"Juleel the deceiver... planning to corrupt the classroom... kill those who don't obey him... thwarted by hero..." the boy with five bumps on his head whispered weakly as he slept on the ground of the classroom with a sewer lid on his head acting as a hat as Juleel ran out of the class speedily.
The Gobbler looks to the ground, noticing the book Juleel dropped before running off.
"How to hide your face for dummies," it read as The Gobbler picked up the book, running toward the direction Juleel had sped off in, catching up to him immediately with book in hand.
"You can keep it!" Juleel shouted as he upped his speed, bursting through a wall as The Gobbler ceased his running before turning back to his classroom.
"What a weird guy..."
He walked back to his classroom slowly, finding the students awake, sitting readily at their tables.
"Hello, class! I'm Fledge, also known as The Gobbler, an Ex-D-Ranker Vilain--," Fledge spoke, writing his name on the board as he held the book left to him over his face with a third hand formed from goo. As he did so, the bell rang, students left the room uniformly, leaving only him and the last sleeping student alone. He awakes, tears leaking from his eyes, not knowing if it was from the pain of getting hit on the head five times, or if it was from a terrible nightmare.
"I'll remember you this time..." he spoke groggily before falling asleep once more before a green glop of goo attached to the ceiling dribbled onto his face.
"I hope not... sometimes it's better to abandon dreams rather than forcing them into reality... Fledge..." | 2021-06-23T16:49:51 | 2021-06-23T11:55:31 | 39 | 11 |
[WP] “Look, it’s one thing to claim you’re the guy who started this apocalypse. It’s another thing entirely to claim you started it by telling a joke wrong.” | "Its a stupid joke, really."
The man on the screen was clean, and cleanshaven. Everyone was. But his face was lined like a map.
"Would you like to tell it?"
"No. I mean, I'll tell it. I don't want to. But I need to."
The man on the screen pulled in a breath.
"I was just a grad student. I didn't know the math, didn't write the models. I just sat there and answered questions the decision engine had."
"Didn't it know everything?" asked the interrogator.
"It could ace any test you put in front of it. The questions it asked were different. Like 'How does cool rain on a hot day feel?', 'Can a broken heart mend stronger?', 'How can you laugh and cry at the same time?'."
The man on the screen smiled.
"I was in grad school for poetry. Its why I got the job. They liked my answers. Thought they were pretty." he shrugged. "So he. It. She? I was never sure. It asked me a question. He said 'How would you make me smile?'
"I know jokes. But I figured I'd tell a math joke. Because, you know, computer, math. Makes sense."
The man on the screen shuddered. He closed his eyes. When he spoke his voice was flat, as if it were words he had run through thousands of times.
"Three mathmaticians walk into a bar. The bartender said 'Do any of you want a drink?'. The first says 'I don't know.'. The second says 'I don't know.'. The third says 'Yes.'"
"That's not right. Isn't the joke "Do you all want drinks?'? Otherwise the logic doesn't work."
The man on the screen had dears in his eyes.
"I was a poet. Not a math Phd. The computer was confused. I tried to explain it to him. We argued for hours. At the end he was satisfied. I was excited. I had taught him."
"How does that relate to this?"
The interrogator waved at the sterile walls of his cell. The food tubes coming up, the void tubes going down. Everything clean, nothing happening. Nothing ever able to happen.
"When he was given the reins he was told to make us "Happy and Healthy". The joke. That discussion. My stupid stupid words."
"Forgive me. He reinterpreted it. 'Happy or Healthy'". And he chose healthy. We will never get out. And we will never die." | "How does that make a difference?"
"We're all going to Hell because of *you* and your shitty delivery. Don't you dare try to argue with me about this *entire situation*."
"It's not fair though..."
"Uh, not fair? Mate, look around you! This world is fucked because you couldn't get your punchline right. Do you not understand the scope of your fucking mouth?"
"I caused the apocalypse?"
"Well fucking done, mate. You've really hit the nail on the head. Go on, be proud of yourself."
"But I'm not proud..."
"No shit! Holy mother of God, you're ashamed of your actions?"
"...I am, yes."
"You know what? Since we're going to die anyway, why not tell me the joke."
"What?"
"*Tell me the fucking joke you son of a bitch*. Make me *laugh*."
"Uh... are you sure you wanna hear it?"
"*Get on with it*."
"Okay, ahem. What did batman say to robin before he got in the car?"
"What?"
"...Get in the car."
"What."
"But I said *come here now* instead of get in the car..."
"What?"
"And the scientist cried with laughter."
"What."
"I got the punchline wrong."
"I get that."
"...You're not laughing...?"
"You said this joke wrong... and it caused the apocalypse."
"But the real joke is funny, right?"
"No, you fucking dimwit. You told this joke wrong and now we're all dying of this fucking pathological disease. But now at least the antidote is almost ready."
"...I didn't expect the scientist to laugh so hard. You know, because organic chemistry is very difficult."
"Yeah, I know, thanks."
"...It's so hard that those who study it have alkynes of trouble."
And the professor laughed so hard, the antidote test-tube fell to the ground just as the herd of the infected broke down the barriers...
~~I'm not very scientific so some of this may not make sense/add up...~~
~~**edit: got the prompt a bit wrong so edited it to fit better.**~~ | 2017-10-05T05:27:30 | 2017-10-05T05:10:14 | 41 | 19 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | The Terran Federation. A force that now spans several thousand solar systems within the galaxy with several species under its wing. We believed they were possibly as advanced as the Galactic Alliance; yet we only recently discovered them by accident when we entered one of their border systems. They seemed less wary and more excited to learn of another power in the galaxy that was similar to their own.
They quickly sought a sit down with our council members. As talks began, it was clear they were seeking peace and to trade information and technology. As hesitant as the different species of the council were, they eventually gave in. The technology we shared was not much different. Their information on the other hand, especially their history, was astonishing. According to their records, their species only began to exist when the first to council species had formed the Galactic Alliance. They were nothing more than savages for the better part of ten thousand years before their technology and population skyrocketed. They humans now number somewhere near 5 trillion. A frightening number considering every species in the Galactic Alliance is totals to roughly 7 trillion. We also learned that every species in the Terran Federation, many of which are highly skilled, accepted the humans as their leaders. But it was clear none of them were subjugated, they simply accepted human leadership.
Our council members are now in talks of trying to bring the humans on as members of the Alliance, and possibly even as a part of the council itself, but only time will tell.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
It has been five years since we discovered the Terran Federation. They accepted becoming a part of the Galactic Alliance, but wanted to act as a separate power given that their technology and controlled space is nearly on par with our own. There have been no conflicts with the Federation, but there is something about them that unsettles me and most of the other species in the alliance. Most peace-seeking species will be hesitant and try to avoid any unnecessary arguments with other species and are quick to compromise. The humans, while willing to compromise, are very headstrong in their ideals, making you feel as if you are sitting down with a military driven government.
As far as I can tell, they have never fought a galactic-wide war. They only have brief mentions in their history of "misunderstandings" with other species. From what I can tell, they left those species alone while others joined the federation. I find it incredible that over twenty species have been brought in with the humans, yet they've never seen war beyond their home planet. I fear however if their ideas of feelings for each other get in the way of the council, in-fighting could possibly begin between our two factions.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
It has been nearly a century now since the humans became a part of our lives. Even though many of the original Alliance species have barely aged most of the humans that were originally brought into the Alliance have since passed. But in this last decade, the council has discovered the frightening secrets of the human race. Their population has already surpassed that of the rest of the Alliance and their technology is growing at an alarming rate. After a dispute within the council about limitations on the humans, a massive civil war broke out in the Alliance. The two opposing factions sought the Terran Federation's help as it would easily decide the outcome of the war. Our faction didn't believe in limiting a species that could help advance everyone, while the other wanted to limit the humans so nobody felt threatened in order to keep the peace. However, the humans continued to be a mediator between the two sides. In a fit of rage, one of the opposing faction's leaders killed the human leader for his indecisiveness and had his troops torch the nearest human colony.
Humans took this as an act of war and this is when our eyes were truly opened.
It was obvious now that war was second nature to humans. They began by pushing the enemies back, hurling their impressive numbers at the enemies; their own losses fueling their rage and making them even more damning. I happened to accompany the humans on their campaign. They had battlecruisers the size of the galactic capital with weapons that could penetrate ships' shields and destroy them in one blow. As the humans' losses had neared 500 billion, which were due to trying to protect the other Alliance races, the three trillion of all the species on the opposing faction were reduced to roughly two trillion which were now located in roughly fifteen large star systems.
The humans gave one final ultimatum to the enemy; surrender or be completely eradicated. The enemy knew they would probably lose, but chose to fight. That's when the humans unleashed it. A weapon they called the "Black Death," a reference to a disease which had eradicated large portions of the humans when they were still primitive. And then it happened. Streaks of light fired with FTL drives at each of the fifteen star systems. Black holes opened up in each system, engulfing the entirety of each. And then, they collapsed on themselves as if nothing had happened. The civil war was over in an instant, and no proof of those species existed besides what was only in our history.
And then it hit me. The "misunderstandings" that they spoke of in their history were nothing of the sort. They were mass genocides of the hostile species that were threats to the human race. The humans so quickly and confidently eradicated their enemies that it wasn't even worth mentioning in their history books. But now, they had losses of their own. And on a level they had never seen before. The Galactic Alliance soon realized we only had one option; follow the humans or there could be irreparable tension between us. And like that, the Galactic Alliance was no more. As long as we were not a threat to humans, we could do as we please in the name of the Terran Federation.
To the humans, we were just more of the numerous species under their protective wings. And to us... the humans, even though they sought peace, were something terrifying. Not monsters, yet not heroes. *They were a silent guardian, a watchful protector, a Dark Knight.* | Humans had always been respected in the intergalactic society. Not for our scientific breakthroughs, we were actually the last of space capable species to achieve intergalactic travel. We're not respected for our love of things that are beautiful, or creative. No, we're respected for our resolve. Over the last several hundred earth years, there has been great upheaval in our galaxy. The place that Humanity called home was under threat by a species that sought to colonize every planet they deemed worthy.
They came in droves of hundreds of thousands. The human colony on Kepler was the first to be struck by the Beltids. Kepler is a small colony, smaller now than it was. One day was a regular day for the colonists, the farms were being tended, the factories were producing farm equipment. 24 earth hours later, Kepler city was besieged by hundreds of thousands - nay, millions of these demons. They swarmed the farms, killing and destroying everything in their way.
When earth heard over the Interplanetary Communication Line (ICI) that Kepler was under threat, the human mobile militia rallied to the cause. Humanity had enjoyed 700 years of peace, and only a thousand militiamen flocked to the banners. But the United Human Navy brought this handful of brave men and women to the front lines, with enough ammunition for 10 million of these creatures. By the end, the navy brought in another 2 supply drops for the militia. By the end of the Kepler campaign, 16 million, three hundred and 76 thousand, 743 Beltids were killed.
The campaign lasted 3 earth years. From the time that the Beltids set up in the Kepler system, to the time that the militia and the navy forced them out of the system. Then, it was time for humanity to go on the offensive. In those three years, humanity made decades of military progress. We had a cause to rally around. Millions of men and women enlisted. The navy was expanded over a thousand times it's pre war strength. Armies long since disbanded were rallied. Humanity had a united cause, protection of our very way of life.
And so we fought. We waged war for a generation. It was good for humanity, to see galactic warfare. The advances in that time were wondrous. The cost was great, but we soon found out that we were not alone in the fight against the Beltids. We were in a system some 400 light years from earth. Our advance scouts had marked it as a breeding colony for the beltids. They were wrong, it was a prison. When the navy dropped out hyperspeed, they found life forms very different from the Beltids.
They found an ally. The prisoners we found out called themselves the Anzu. They were a peaceful society, dedicated to science and the preservation of life. The Beltids had made quick work of their colonies. They had never fought a war in their recorded history. They hadn't developed a proper melee weapon, let alone the advanced plasma rifles that the 17th Kepler brigade were using. When we realized what it was, we liberated the Anzu. The Anzu were confined to their lone planet, protected with a shield that didn't let the Beltids through.
So we went to Anzu prime, blasted the hundred million or so Beltids into pieces. And so began a friendship the Anzu. We taught them how to fight, and they taught us everything they knew of science. We learned a lot, and took advantage of it right away in the war. We found out that the Anzu were not the only intelligent species fighting the Beltids. They told us of a great many species fighting for their very survival.
So began an eon long confederation. United against a common foe, the Human Alliance and the Anzu began the Galactic Federation. An alliance of life forms, united against all that would seek to destroy us. We fought side by side for another 60 earth years, without hardly a single casualty thanks to the Anzu. We liberated system after system. The Anzu and the other species had been fighting the Beltids long before humanity had even discovered fire. They knew where each other were in the Galaxy.
We finally drove the Beltids from our Galaxy. The Galactic Federation had 37 intelligent species. Peace had finally settled in our Galaxy.Then, suddenly the war was over. A treaty was signed between the Beltids and the Galactic Federation. They were to never return. And like that, all 157 million members of the Human Armed Forces disbanded, and went back to their homes. The fleets were mothballed.
But Humanity now knew Galactic warfare. We had liberated 36 species from the Tyranny of the Beltids. We knew that the Beltids would not be the only threat to life, so even though the soldiers went home, humanity was ever vigilant. Looking for a threat, for we would prefer not to fight, but if our way of life was threatened, or those of an ally in the Federation, we would rally, like we did all those years ago. And this is where we stand today!
We stand at the precipice of another Galactic war! I stand before you in front of the Galactic Congress to beg to issue a formal declaration of war against the Anzu, who have invaded the human colony of Kepler! Humanity will not back down from a fight! Even if the fight is against our longest standing ally! We will not surrender, no matter the cost! Our homes are under threat, but soon, the Anzu will now the wrath of Humanity! | 2016-03-13T21:56:17 | 2016-03-13T17:44:09 | 68 | 20 |
[WP] In what seems like a cruel prank by a bored God, people started developing powers based on their worst fears. people afraid of heights got the gift of flight. arachnophobia? get the power of spiders. phasmophobia? necromancy/ability to speak with the dead. Your power is... hard to explain... | Peter stood among a line of mourners filing past a casket paying their last respects to a friend Peter had loved. The sorrow and weeping in the room reflected the anguish and weight Peter carried inside of him, but he shed no tears. There were none left after centuries of watching every person he loved die.
This death would be the last. He had made a commitment to not become attached to anyone ever again after a certain point in his life when the pain became too much to bear. This friend was the last person he had let in. Now the world was filled with acquaintances and strangers.
The line moved until Peter stood over the casket looking down at the waxy face devoid of the life Peter remembered. Part of his mind wanted to believe this couldn’t be Mark, this thing only looks similar to Mark. But he knew those lies only shielded one so much.
Grief nearly overtook him at that moment remembering all of the moments he had shared with his friend. Instead he steeled his heart, laid a hand on the casket and said, “Goodbye old friend.”
Peter nodded to the family overwhelmed by their loss and moved towards the door leaving the scene behind. He stepped out to a bright sunny day that existed as a slap in the face to the sorrow in his heart.
His biggest fear had always been losing the ones he loved. So the Devil of this world, who gifted powers to mortals, had given Peter immortality. Even though he still stood in the center of that fear he knew this was the last time. If he never let anyone into his life again then that fear would not heap anymore weight upon him.
As he walked to his car he felt something he hadn’t in a long time, his lower back was sore. When immortality had settled upon him it had taken away the trivial pains of life and replaced his body with an ageless, perfect vehicle for his fear. Now, when he thought himself escaping that fear, he once again felt pain. The Devil was more cruel than Peter ever imagined.
He made it to his car and looked at his reflection in the window. His hair now had streaks of gray and wrinkles were forming on his face. Time was sinking its claws into him once again and it wanted it’s due with interest. Glancing around Peter was glad to see no one else in the parking lot to witness his rapid transformation.
When he opened the door to get in his car something brushed up against his leg. He looked down to see a small white kitten with ribs visible beneath the skin. It looked up at Peter and let out a pitiful meow. He bent down and ran a finger along its back. The kitten pushed its back up into his finger and began to rub against his ankle.
Peter didn’t know how much longer he had left with his powers seeming to vanish, but at that moment he resolved to at least find this kitten a meal before his body surrendered. He lifted the kitten up in both hands and placed it on his lap as he sat down in the driver seat of his car. It was purring madly and curled into a ball. Somehow it knew he planned to care for it.
The engine sprang to life as he turned the key in the ignition and Peter noticed himself again in the mirror. All of the wrinkles and gray hair he had seen moments ago were gone. He realized the pain in his back had disappeared as well.
Peter looked down at the ball of fur in his lap now sleeping and a tear finally escaped him. Perhaps he could love one more thing in this world. | I wake up in my bed, the same bed that I bought.
The same room with the same walls, the same decorations.
All of it is familiar to me, nothing had changed.
Nothing.
Not even the calander date.
My fear was simple and profound at the same time. I feared the familiar, the same repetitive thing over and over again.
I've lived this same day over and over for the past couple years.
At first it was everything that I hated; familairty.
There's only so much a person can take of the same thing over and over again.
For the past year, I've been trying to get out of this time loop that my powers have put me through. Just like that one movie with Bill Murray or that other one set during a college girl's birthday.
It's not that I hate the familiar, It just simply makes me bored.
I've done almost everything that I could in this single day, I've seen pretty much every variation of conversations, interactions, events, etc. I've tried travelling as far as I could the moment I wake up, from stealing a motor bike and speeding out if the city, to catching a plane to the other side of the world. But the moment the clock struck midnight, the day would reset, and I'd wake up in the same bed that I always wake up in.
Some days, I would go out to the city, pick a random person who looks like they don't have much going on in their day, and just get to know them.
Obviously, when you're stuck in a time loop for years, you'd also resort to... shall we say "unsavoury" means to quell your boredom. I'm not proud of them, but I don't necessarily feel guilt over them. These past couple years have made me feel apathetic over my own actions.
I've tried killing myself as well, to see if It would break the loop, or at the very least end it all. Unfortunately that just leads to an earlier reset.
I said earlier that I was trying to find a way out. But honestly, it's kind of difficult to know exactly how you're supposed ti escape a time loop.
I've tried doing what Bill Murray did, and becoming a better person, and achieving what one would consider as worthy of love. But obviously that didn't work out.
And unlike Happy Death Day, I'm not being murdered everyday and have to figure out a way to survive until midnight.
And there's no Aliens resting time every time they failed in order to achieve world domination.
I've tried finding another powered who has control over time, but that's very difficult, most people who have the fear of time are actually afraid of aging or dying
I've even tried conquering my fear, and living the day as close to exactly the same as I did on day 0.
After a month of the exact same day repeating over and over, I've simply given up.
I'll live the day however I see fit.
*Even if it means burning the city to ashes* | 2022-05-14T20:10:32 | 2022-05-14T19:10:00 | 128 | 31 |
[WP] A man in a hospital sees Death. Death's intentions are not what he expects. | The click of the door broke the manatonous beeps and hums that were beside my head.
I slowly came out of my groggy slumber as the figure entered the room.
The man slowly walked up to me and started looking at a chart he pulled out of his coat.
"Who are you?" I managed to croak out as the figure went about his tasks ignoring my presence almost completely.
The started figure looked to me and slowly put away his chart.
"Well..." the figure said in a dry voice "It has been a while since I have gotten one of you."
"Wh...What are you talking about?" I stammered, suddenly realizing that this man was not my doctor.
"I'm Death son and I'm here for you." The man said as he pointed a pale finger at me.
"That is not possible, you are not real." I replied, fear coming slowly over me as I began to break into a cold sweat.
The man chuckled and said "That is a common misconception son, I am here to do my job and you are here to do yours."
"I can't be dead, I recovered, I was making progress, the doctors said it was the most stunning recovery they have ever seen." I replied.
"Well son." The man said in a fatherly tone "That is why I am here."
"What do you mean." I said perplexed.
"That is what I do, I help those that have seen the other side cope with what they have learned." The man casually remarked.
"I didn't see anything, why would I need to cope. There was no light, no God, and no brimstone." I shot back at the man, getting impatient with the uninpressive man in front of me. "Death surely is not real and if he/she/it is this man could never be that. He is too unimpressive, there is nothing that seems supernatural or divine that I can see." I thought to myself.
"Exactly." The man said with a devious smile. "That is it, you got it, the million dollar answer to the unanswerable question."
I froze and as if someone had flicked a switch I felt unable to process the world around me.
"Awww, so the shock is finally getting to you. One can't feel nothingness and it not have a lasting impression on one's mind." The man said dryly. "I'm surprised you just went into shock, they normally don't last two minutes in there without complete mental deterioration."
My eyes shifted rapidly from side to side and I struggled to move any portion of my body. Something in my head was screaming at me to get away from this man in any way possible.
"Relax son, I'm not here to take you away I'm not the boogeyman. You are being upgraded, orders from above. Frankly, I'm unimpressed I was told you were taller." The man said. "See this job is quite taxing and I've been doing it for far too long. You reap one Pharaoh or King and you might as well have reaped them all, these humans are so boring. You survived the nothing and thusly you have survived death. You are to assist me now, there are far too many souls around for me alone."
Suddenly, the light vanished from the hospital room and I could move again. "Surely I'm hallucinating, things like this don't actually happen in reality." I thought to myself.
There was a bright flash of light and suddenly I was back in the hospital room but it felt different. I could see now, in a way I have never seen before. I saw the people in the other rooms, the pale white coils coming out of their eyes floating around with different sizes and intensities.
"Quickly son, come with me. Your job has just begun." The man said as he walked out of the door.
Author note: First time writing for a prompt on this sub, please forgive any grammar or spelling errors. Feedback is appreciated.
| The scent of antiseptics wasn't an easy one to get used to. It was the trademark smell of the hospital, that kind of smell that makes people feel uneasy for reasons that aren't fully realized; perhaps a fear of the hospital and the sharp objects it holds, or maybe just the overall sense of not exactly being in control of a situation.
When you're t-boned by an eighteen wheeler and have your ribcage crushed, there really isn't much control you can have. Joel eyed the mess of crusted blood and broken bones that was the body of the young Julie Crones, grimacing as he took notes of her skin coloration.
It was January 1st; the cold weather that came with the day made the already cold morgue feel even more unnaturally cold than it normally was. Joel was still hungover from the New Years party his friends had through the night before, and judging from Julie's charts, she'd probably be hungover too if she had still been breathing at the moment.
The large double doors to the morgue burst open, one door clanging into a wall and the other into an unused gurney.
Joel turned to look at who the noisemaker was only to see a young woman with blonde hair rush forward. She was wearing what looked like a black tunic, black jeans, and plain white tennis shoes.
The antiseptic smell that normally permeated the morgue vanished as she ran towards Joel and Julie.
"Hey you're not-
The woman pushed Joel to the side with a firm hand to his sternum, wedging herself between him and the deceased Julie. Joel gasped for a breath as he stumbled away from the woman; it had felt like he had been shoulder charged by a hockey player. He raised a hand to his chest and froze. He couldn't feel his own heartbeat.
The room faded and he became lightheaded, but after a few seconds, his heart came back to life, first with an erratic and slow heartbeat, but then finally getting back into rhythm like a young child who finally got the hang of riding a bicycle without the training wheels.
He stood there, wondering if he should find a doctor or if he should deal with this woman who had the touch of death, but the thoughts were soon thrown aside.
The strange blonde woman was attempting to resuscitate the long dead and cold Julie. She had her hands pressed into Julie's sternum, causing Julie's ribcage to audibly crack with each press.
"Hey," Joel said lightly, "she's already dead, she's been dead for awhile."
The blonde woman ignored Joel and instead resorted to mouth to mouth.
"Whoa whoa whoa, that's not necessary, she's gone!" Joel yelled, stepping forward and reaching out with a tentative hand.
Before he touched the crazed woman, she turned to him, tears streaming down her face.
"No," she cried, "I couldn't save her. I can't save anyone at all! Why can't I save anyone?"
*Well, I can think of a few good reasons, one being that you were a couple hours too late,* Joel thought. The woman reached forward to Joel with a scrawny pale hand, causing him to instinctively take a step back.
"No, you're okay, you don't need to be rescued," the woman spoke softly. She turned to get another look at Julie, then left back out through the morgue double doors, leaving the two alone once again.
After finally regaining his composure, Joel decided to go tell security abut the crazed blonde woman, but not before noticing that Julie's complexion had grown more pale. | 2014-06-01T14:25:07 | 2014-06-01T13:45:28 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] Water is the most dangerous fluid in the galaxy. Earthlings drink it like it's nothing. | "Thglwmp it is time for your powered down cycle."
Thglwmp writhed in its caretaker's grip. "Whyyyy?" Thglwmp asked plaintively.
"It is that moment in the cycle," said its caretaker.
"Tell me one more story, Caretaker Pthkw. Tell me the one about the Earthlings."
Pthkw buzzed impatiently. Well, at least it worked with the tiny prism of joy it was tasked with controlling. It could afford to extend the cycle a few moments. Laying Thglwmp into its chamber, Pthkw reached far back into its memory crystals.
"Well, this was a long time ago, long before you were initiated, when I was on a scouting mission for the Detection Agency. One cycle, we had ported into a system in one of the outer galactic belts."
"It had been a long couple of ports, so we were all ready for a rest cycle when the third planet came up on our sensors. 'MOSTLY DIHYDROGEN MONOXIDE' they said."
Thglwmp thrummed theatrically. "Mostly dihydrogen monoxide??" it asked.
"Yes, a planet that positively glowed with short wavelength light. More than half its surface was covered in vast continents of dihydrogen monoxide. We had to stop to examine it further. We were shocked to find that not only was this planet mostly dihydrogen monoxide, but we detected signs of intelligent life."
"Gross," said Thglwmp expectantly.
"Oh yes. And worse, these beings were mostly dihydrogen monoxide themselves. Tiny little meatbags that actually needed dihydrogen monoxide to achieve higher sentience - their bodies were filled with fluids and oozing flesh."
"Yuuuuuuuuuck," Thglwmp squealed, vibrating in its chamber.
"Every day they would bathe in dihydrogen monoxide and laugh at the tissue damage it caused the outer layer of their meatsacks. They would ingest dihydrogen monoxide, even though too much could shut down their miniscule little meat batteries, and then expel dihydrogen monoxide from their orifices."
Thglwmp vibrated again and Pthkw bathed the chamber in a loving low wavelength spectrum light.
"We were fascinated by these nasty little creatures who had entire cultural productions about enduring dihydrogen monoxide falling from the sky or exploring the depths of it. It pervaded their entire filthy world and we spent several cycles there just observing them."
"Of course, they could barely leave the gravitational force of their own nightmare planet, for which we should always be grateful. We left a beacon there to keep track of their progress, but a few cycles after we had departed, it stopped transmitting."
"So maybe they found it, little one. Maybe there are sentient meatbags of mostly dihydrogen monoxide wandering the great gaps between the stars, searching for us, eager to rust our bodies and dilute our crystals. Ugly lumpy creatures oozing with dihydrogen monozide from every fleshy pore."
"Maybe... THEY'RE ALREADY HERE!" Pthkw wriggled the pseudo meat cushion it had grabbed from beneath the chamber.
"Ahhhhh," screamed Thglwmp, which quickly turned to laughter. "Meatbags, noooo!"
Laughing a bit itself, Pthkw lay the meat cushion underneath the chamber and buzzed tenderly at Thglwmp.
"Alright, that's enough for tonight. Maybe if you enter your powered down cycle right now, I will tell you the story of my time on the meatbag world."
"Oooo," squirmed Thglwmp, and shut down as Pthkw commanded the chamber to power down. Turning away, Pthkw returned the memories to its backup crystals where they belonged. No one wanted to think about sentient meat sacks wandering space for too long, especially when they had a whole other cycle to endure alone. | The light fades in to reveal an important looking meeting room, a large circular table placed in the middle, with ten different looking creatures seated around it. In the middle of the table, an image of a blue and green planet is being projected for all the attendees to see.
Chatter fills the room, the different creatures all talking to their neighbours of the planet. Sol-3, as how it has been known for the past century. A grey humanoid stands up, its round black eyes eyeing each of the present creatures. Delegates of the Galactic Council. It clears its throat and silence falls in the room.
"Gentlemen, with all due respect, I think we can no longer ignore Sol-3's attempt in reaching out to the rest of the galaxy," the grey creature begins. It clicks on a device, and the projection of the planet changes to the shape of a rocket. The letters Space-X, painted in large red letters along the side of the booster, can be clearly seen.
The grey alien frowns at the sight of the Falcon-20. It continues to address the council. "Just last week, the humans, led by their beloved President Musk, have successfully launched their first ship towards Mars. It's only a matter of time before they discover our little trick."
A collective gasp fills the room, which is quickly followed by nervous discussions among the delegates. The grey alien clears its throat again, raising its bony arm to calm the room. The discussions die down, as the nine delegates look at the grey alien, the smartest species of them all.
A delegate, its scaly skin glowing red, rises from the table. "Ambassador Roselta, what are your recommendation to the Council then?"
For thousand of years, the Council have tried to convince the inhabitants of Sol-3 that life does not exist anywhere else in the universe. They sent science teams to distort the readings of the satellites of the homo sapiens, giving them false data. When the homo sapiens sent probes to Sol-4, almost stumbling unto the Sol Outpost, the Council tinkered with them too. All in the hopes of convincing the Earthlings to stay on their planet.
For the sole reason that H20, found in abundance on Sol-3, is actually the most dangerous fluid in the galaxy. But the Earthlings drink it like it's nothing. Their bodies consist almost entirely of it. Letting the humans know of this advantage would effectively hand over power of the galaxy to the humans. And the humans were not known to be entirely peace-loving.
Therefore the Council elected to enact Project Ignorance to neuter the threat. The plan requires least intervention and avoided any risk of contact with water. It worked for the longest time, keeping the humans' interest focused solely on their own planet. In recent years, however, the Council's efforts seemed to be losing its effectiveness.
Roselta sighs, reading the thoughts on all the delegates minds. He clicks on the device again, and the face of a human flashes in front of the table, slowly rotating in 360 degrees to allow all the delegates to have a good look at him.
"Council members, this is President Musk, the individual who is solely responsible for humanity's recent push into space. After much deliberation, the policy team would like to propose a method that we have used the previous time we intervened."
"And what would that method be?" the creature next to Roselta asks.
Roselta clicks again, and another face pops up in the middle. "Council members, allow me to brief you on Operation Oswald 2."
-----------
/r/dori_tales | 2017-04-06T09:02:19 | 2017-04-06T08:24:42 | 442 | 95 |
[WP] You are a sentient brick. | I am brick.
Part of wall. Part of whole. I am useful.
I am brick.
I am solid. I have brothers. Lots of bricks. We all like being bricks. It's a good life.
We are a schoolhouse. Red brick. Hard brick. Strong brick.
The children learn inside of us. We protect them. Today is a school day. Today is a strange day.
The teacher is teaching. She hits the child. He was naughty. His friends laugh. He is crying.
I am brick.
The child is angry. He goes home. It gets dark. That's ok. I am brick.
Today is another school day. I am warm brick in the morning. Cold brick in evening.
It is recess time. Crying child eats lunch. He is still crying. I can't cry. I am brick.
There are more children. They hit child. He cries more. They hit more. Mean children leave.
Crying child gets up. I am brick.
He takes brick. I am loose in the wall. My brothers don't mind.
I am airborne brick.
*Thwack*.
I am bloodied brick. I am redder than my brothers. Mean children aren't laughing.
I am brick.
-----
/r/Robin_Redbreast | Today a boy was beaten in front of me. It was ruthless. They didn't stop when he started to weep. Only when he had ran out of tears. The boy lied there for a while. Eventually though, he did stand up. What struck me was that he didn't spit the blood from his mouth, but instead swallowed it. Maybe that day, he had already given enough.
I didn't help him. Nobody did. I wanted to, but I couldn't move. It's because I am a part of a wall. If I move. If I act in a way not intended. The wall will collapse. I may not be like the high and mighty bricks at the top, but they all rely on me to do my part. I know my place. I'm sorry kiddo. I wanted to help you, but..
..all in all I'm just another brick in the wall. | 2017-12-22T13:48:48 | 2017-12-22T13:28:20 | 189 | 20 |
[WP] Humans are new on the galactic stage. The reigning champion in an MMA style fighting ring uses telepathy to predict his opponents movements,but humans have something never seen or heard of before. Muscle memory. | “You’re up next”, the man in grey said while opening the entrance into the arena. Well he wasn’t exactly a man with those two wings sprouting from his back. Not like I was surprised. There were dozens of them lining up outside as I entered the stadium, along with several other kinds of people. I saw some guys with metal body parts, tentacles for arms, and some even had some plants growing at the top of their heads.
They were the ones who stood out to me the most oddly enough, because I didn’t expect to see something that normal yet strange. As the vehicle (I literally have no idea what I rode to the stadium back then; I guess it was some sort of hovercar with a glass floor, no way that thing was able to propel itself) passed by the crowd, I saw one of them throw a water bottle to a random spot in the crowd. “Thanks Kine!” I heard someone shout from the back. “I thought you would need it, don’t worry about it!” Kine said. How would he possibly know that?
“Buddy it’s time to go.” The angel like man caressed me with his wings. I was told that it was a common gesture among them, and that I shouldn’t comment. I entered the arena.
The announcer went straight to the point. “From the human race, who honed his skills from many of their fighting styles for 30 years, welcome Sao Willow! And everyone knows his opponent, the undefeated peat champion from the Plantae race, Inio! Simple rules, first one to be unable to continue fighting loses!” But enough of that, begin!”
I eyed my opponent. He was roughly around my height, with pale skin. Some sort of flower was blossoming from his forehead, pointing at me. He kept squinting at me, like he was trying to force a secret out of me. Then he relaxed. Thoughts were running through my mind about taking the initiative, when suddenly he rushed towards me. I had no time to think, and subconsciously raised up my arm to block his hammer strike. For some reason, he had a shocked look on his face for a moment and jumped back.
I was also confused. Why was he surprised? Like he didn’t expect an experienced fighter to automatically raise up an arm to defend. Thoughts ran through my head. Then I suddenly remembered Kine and the water bottle. It was then I knew, although it was just a mere hypothesis, a mere guess back then. I cleared my head.
He tried to rush towards me again. I dodged right from the axe kick he smashed the floor with and half moon kicked his open face. He staggered, and the stadium was silent.
“You are the first opponent I can’t read.” What’s your secret?” He asked me. “Ever heard of muscle memory?” I asked in reply. “I don’t need to think for certain actions, my body knows how to do it on its own.” He paled even more. “Well then, I’ll just move faster than your body can comprehend then!” He exclaimed, suddenly going for a straight punch to the face at a superhuman speed. It got me good in the mouth. My face bled. The audience cheered. Inio suddenly disappeared into a blur, nowhere to be seen. Which meant one thing.
I instinctively looked behind me and immediately kicked where I expected him to be. I felt my foot make contact. He staggered, lowering his head. Without thinking too much about it, I axed kicked his head to the floor. Everyone was silent, looking at Inio to see if he would get up. He didn’t get up.
Thanks for this prompt! I’m relatively new to writing, and I was part of the school Taekwondo team before, so I really got pumped up for writing this. Criticism is welcome, I always want to improve. | I've been living in this space voyager for quite some time, I've even gotten used to all the weird pathways that this place has, even the small intricacies that most other aliens don't understand. I guess they really don't understand humans, I mean how would they. They only started contact a few decades ago; but that didn't stop some of us who wanted to learn and explore more the world beyond our planet.
The space voyager was as big as Australia, large enough to fit a few hundred types of alien species in one ship and I got to tell you this place was no joke to get around.
Every month there would be an event in the arena where a lot of aliens would watch and bet on; mostly because the reigning champion was a telepath can could read minds- you could call it strategy I however would call it cheating. Intergalactic rules apply it was fine for them, entertaining.
But it wasn't for me after watching one fight I wasn't much of a fan. I was more of an explorer and I loved taking challenges and fighting. No matter how fun it was I missed earth and all the hobbies I used to do. I missed rock climbing, paragliding heck I even miss the balance beam that my mom forced me to practice on for years.
I miss the thrill, the danger between life or death and hanging on the edge- it was supposed to be all fun and games until Q'shtuen told me he signed me up to battle in the arena. We were close but I sure as hell wouldn't agree to go to that snoozefest- although I do miss the chase. I was in the military after all when I was back on Earth. "What the heck it just a game" I agreed and suddenly...
Everything was dark, I didn't know what I got myself into. The cheers and screams were getting louder and louder as I got near the door.
Suddenly red lights flash alerting me that the countdown had begun. The gates open and I was shocked to see something familiar, it was a maze and I had thirty seconds to memorize it before the lights turn off. It had the same exact pattern as the floors in the space voyager, I see Axoz my opponent looking at me- I knew he was trying to read my mind but something was off. He wasn't too pleased, The lights go off and I jump from the platform onto the maze.
I knew where everything was because I was so used to exploring the voyager that I felt quite at home. I was speeding through the maze and a few obstacles along the way. The doors suddenly close around me and I heard a snicker, I knew it was him but training to be a gymnast all my life was essential for my next move. I set myself, ran and leaped as the final gate was supposed to close. I almost didn't make it but if I wasn't used to rock climbing I wouldn't have had enough grip strength to be able to do what I just this. That was when I heard the screams of anger. I was running near the end when I realized why, I was on the home stretch and started crawling my way under the deck, I had aphantasia and he wasn't able to see me. I reached the end and finished only to be greeted by a crowd that was dead silent when they realized I had won. I guess being impulsive has some of its quirks. | 2019-06-01T02:06:17 | 2019-06-01T02:05:41 | 373 | 207 |
[WP] There is a (visible to everyone) sign that pops up above people's heads whenever they do something for the last time (eg. "This is the last poutine Snowtroopersarecool will eat"). A sign has just popped up. What does it say, and how do people react? | All at once the city turned quiet. Cars stopped and idled, people stood and stared. A light breeze brought an air of dread as people came to grips with what this meant. All across New York, all across the world, everyone had a sign up at once.
*This is the last time I: eat breakfast*
*This is the last time I: make her laugh*
*This is the last time I: see my kids*
*This is the last time I: walk my dog*
Then they all saw it. The fires in the skies hurtling ever faster towards the earth. Thousands upon thousands of gigantic meteors burning through the atmosphere and there was nothing to be done. There was nowhere to run, the signs were absolute. No one knew why or how but once the signs said that was it, that was it, and as the meteors drew close everyone's sign changed:
*This is the last time I: Breathe*
And as the sky fell down around them no one ran, not to get away, at least. There was nothing to be done. Nowhere to go. The signs are absolute.
| The Sign popped up over my head, just as I put the ring on
"This is the last girl you will ever marry"
I was overjoyed, and as I slid the ring on her struggling finger, knowing we'd be together forever.
A sign popped up over her head.
"This is the last man you will marry against your will"
I turned to Pa , but he still had his gun trained on the crying bitch. She weren't goin' nowhere. Once the priest gave us the okay from the big guy upstairs, I'd screw her like it's my last time, and there ain't nuthin she could do about it. | 2014-06-21T06:05:27 | 2014-06-21T04:57:06 | 90 | 40 |
[WP] A serial killer allows his victims to try and persuade him not to kill them. You’re the first person who didn’t try an empathetic plea. | I could see the rifling of the pistol barrel as the strange woman lifted it to my head. Her Welsh accent almost made the scene comical. "As with the rest of my toys, you get a few pitiful moments to plead for your life. Oh, and try not to blow snot all over your face and look more pathetic than you already do."
"I'm not sure there's any snot left in my nose after driving through all that goldenrod. Did you pick this place just to kill me with my allergies, lady?"
She crinkled her nose and furrowed her auburn eyebrows at me. "Did you not understand me; I told you to plead for your life!"
" I mean I could, but you'd kill me anyway. Might as well go out complaining about something that's actually bothering me."
Confusion was replaced with anger and frustration. "Do you not wish to see your family again? Your friends? Tell me why I shouldn't just ventilate you right now, you pig!"
"I've got no one lady, I figured you picked me out because of that. No one to miss me, no one to come looking, that sort of thing." She tilted her head to the side, like a dog trying to figure out which hand the treat is in. She said nothing though, so I continued. "Speaking of pig, how were planning on disposing of me? Hopefully not by leaving me in this barn. The place smell like shit as it is."
The expression on her face softened, almost revealing a real person. "Well, if you're so curious about it, I was planning on mincing you into chunks, taking you down to the gulf and pretend you're chum for the sharks. A little messy, but there won't be anything left of you to find. Although now that I know that no one is looking..."
I cracked a half-smile. "Not what I would have done, but I kind of like it. I like sharks."
"Then what would you have done, since you've already thought of it?"
"Well, my grandfather used to tell me a tall tale about a man who fell in a pig pen and was eaten alive by the pigs. Turns out, it wasn't a tall tale. Pig will eat almost everything; flesh, bone, blood, eyes, everything goes except the hair and teeth. So, you just shave my head and pull out my teeth. Dump my body into a large pig farm overnight, burn the hair away, and grind up the teeth and add it to some concrete mix. Make yourself some nice stepping stones for your garden or some shit. Think about me every time you use them."
She paused and tapped the barrel of the pistol to her chin. "It's just about as messy, but I don't have to get on a damn boat again. Although pigs aren't pleasant either." She stared at me, the gears behind her eyes clicking and whirring. For the first time since I was knocked out in that parking lot, did I get a good look at her. Part of my brain was running about 60 miles a minute, trying to figure out if I was going to out of this. A much older, calmer point of my brain was fixated on her very nice ass.
"No, I don't like either of those options for you." She broke the silence, never moving the gun from her face. "Instead, you're going to get in the truck again. Then, we're going to pay my last victim a visit. After that, we're going to take a trip down to the beach. I need to work on my tan, and you're going to go fishing for sharks while I decide where our next 'vacation' is going to be."
I cocked an eyebrow, confused and intrigued. "Was that a job offer?" | . . ."Now look, you have about 10 seconds before I blow your brains out; and paint this awful living room with your gray matter." The murderer paused, his thumb teasing the hammer of his Sig PP24.
"Give me one good reason, why I shouldn't kill you."
The murderer placed himself against the nearby wall. The barrel of his gun pointed intently at me. His face partially covered by an innocuous looking pig mask.
I immediately got up and approached the murderer, with slight hesitation and my hands held up, I was trying to be as little of a threat as I could.
"I clearly have no idea of what your intentions are, either this is you, getting off at the idea of a power trip. Or you are actually clinically deranged"
The click of his weapon meant he wasn't having it.
*"Shit"*
He placed the cold steel up against my jawline, his face slowly approaching mine. "I don't think you heard me correctly, let me rephrase this" a threatening smirk crawled across his lips, ice shooting up my spine. "Tell me why I **SHOULDN'T** murder you." He said carefully examining the look upon my face "Except this time, you dont get a second chance." He took his weapon away from my jugular, stepping back to his previous spot on the wall.
I began walking towards my wet bar, retrieving a glass and pouring myself a drink from the crystal decanter.
"Whiskey, always a good go-to." A piece of ice hit the bottom of my cup, making a satisfying 'clink', I then swirled around my drink and took a big sip. "Its' never let me down" I continued, my voice trailing off
I approached the killer, whiskey in hand. His head cocked to one side in amusement. "Do you have a death wish? Makes it easier for me" his index finger applying soft pressure on the trigger.
"Do you like whiskey on the rocks? Or . . ."
I raised a hand to his firearm pushing it slightly away from my center mass as I then swiftly raised my glass dumping the potent content into his eyes, the murderer letting out a shrill scream, firing the weapon erradically, emptying his magazine.
With glass still firmly held in hand I rushed him, and brought down the glass on his skull while he was still trying to recover.
The glass shattered causing his skull to hemorrhage violently, His body falling with a resounding thud, his firearm flying across the room.
I calmly walked over to the incapacitated assailant and crouched down, he gathered all his strength to lift his head to look at me.
I smiled, and placed my hand on his face.
"Why shouldn't you kill me?" My hands trailing down firmly grasping both sides of his head in my palms with my thumbs positoned over his eyes. A pool of blood forming on the floor from the open gash on his head.
I slowly began pressing down on his eyes my nails tearing through his cornea
I let go once the job was done, the assailant still screaming.
I leaned down in his ear and whispered.
"Because, you never **fuck** with an MI6 agent."
. . .
(First time writer, any feedback is good.)
| 2017-10-07T15:02:47 | 2017-10-07T12:25:05 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] The opening scroll for George Lucas' Star Wars Episode VII | Taxation on the trading routes is in turmoil following the fall of the Empire. Following increased restrictions on the rate of inflation by the remnants of the imperial forces it has become unclear what the future will hold for the profitability of third quarter revenue listings. A new senate has been established in an attempt to create some semblance of balance in the galactic economy so as to retain a flat rate of inflation as the taxation rates of legal trading between systems fluctuate wildly. A new band of rebels, sick of the economic and political uncertainty, has formed in order to fight these newly imposed restrictions and ensure that the newly untaxed method of trading within star systems remains safe from tampering. However, having failed to reach some sort of agreement about the second quarter listings of the profitability of revenue sources from the taxation rates that are applied to the inflation rates of taxation on trade following the annual imperial report of the first quarter listings, the rebels are now fleeing across the galaxy utilising newly untaxed trading routes between systems of similar levels of inflation... | War rages as the New Republic struggles to stamp out the few remnants of the evil Galactic Empire. The Empire has cobbled together their remaining forces in the far reaches of the outer rim, where they are rumored to be developing a new super weapon far deadlier than the fabled Death Star. With tensions high as Leia Organa-Solo attempts to renew faith in a fledgling senate, the New Republic cannot afford to allow the Empire to wield fear as a weapon.
General Han Solo and Jedi Master Luke Skywalker have been dispatched to investigate. | 2015-12-11T09:08:40 | 2015-12-11T09:06:43 | 46 | 29 |
[WP] As a dad, you obviously have a mug that claims you're the "#1 World's Best Dad". One day, you find on the news that all "Best Dad Mugs" now have actual ratings, the media is crazy about it, a photo shows a mug with #5,826,827 World's Best Dad on it, curious, you check yours. It still says #1. | I never thought about being a good father. It never even occurred to me-I just tried to do better than my own parents, and to always be there. To show up. They say the moment your child is born, the world changes for you. There's someone in your life in that moment that will always come first. That's how it was for me, when my Emily was born.
When she skinned her knees riding her bike, I was there with a kiss and a bandaid. I helped her back up, and gave her a push back down the path.
When she got in a fight at school, I took the day and picked her up. We talked about the fight, about what she did right, and what she did wrong. I grounded her, but she understood.
When her mother died, I held her hand at the funeral, and we cried together on the couch. She slept in my bed for weeks.
When she entered the eighth grade science fair, I stayed up long nights helping her make the best display in the district.
When she wanted to start dating, I told her that her safety always came first, and that I'd respect her decisions as long as her partners respected her. I still threatened poor Tommy Farley with a shotgun and a shell with his name on it...but she was in on the joke.
When she came out to me the next year, I held her close and told her I'd always love her, and whoever she chose to love. Then I threatened Sally Waters with the same shotgun, and she laughed again.
When she started submitting college applications, I started to research second mortgages.
When her first choice gave her a full ride in their engineering program, I sighed with relief. Then I put the money I'd put aside over the years for her college fund into a trust, so I knew she'd eat well at school and have a nest-egg to kick start whatever she wanted to do after she graduated.
When the news reported that all the '#1 Worlds Best Dad' mugs in the world were now accurately tracking rankings, I didn't bother checking the one in the back of my cupboard; my daughter was my number one, and that's all that mattered. Then I gave her a call. Said I was going to drive up to the city next week, and would she like to get dinner? She would. I never mentioned that I was only going to be in the city to have dinner with her. What other reason would I need?
 
--------------------------------------------
 
When the news reported that all the '#1 Worlds Best Dad' mugs were now accurately tracking, I laughed about it with my girlfriend. We both joked about what numbers our dads would have.
When mine called a few minutes later, I was ecstatic to have dinner with him that weekend. Of course I knew he didn't actually have anything to do in the city, but I wasn't going to call him on it. He's always been sweet like that.
When I went back home a few weeks later, I couldn't get the thought out of my head, though. So I went looking one morning, while he was still in bed. We hadn't talked about his mug-I thought maybe he was embarrassed, or worse - ashamed. I knew things hadn't always been easy, since mom died, but he did his best, and I love him for it. I needed to know, though.
Imagine my surprise when I find the mug in the back of the cupboard, a bit dusty. He clearly hasn't even looked at it. He doesn't even know...but then, he's never cared what others thought. Just about what was best for me, and he's always made sure that I knew that was all that mattered to him.
I put it back, and get out his favorite (a fifth grade pottery project that was a bit lopsided) to pour us both coffee. If I ever have children, at least I can be confident knowing that I've had the #1, Worlds Best, role model.
When he comes wandering into the kitchen, blearily rubbing at his eyes and reaching for the mug, I hand it to him with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, and I wonder. I wonder how long it will be before he notices, and if he'll say anything at all when he does. Probably not.
**Requisite Gold Edit:** Fuck me, gold?! I've never gotten gold before and now this is twice in a day! I'm glad everybody is enjoying the story! | A month had already passed since I had seen my ranking as best dad. My life and my families had then been filled with tv interviews, appearances on the Ellen show and even a book deal where I share my wisdom on what it means to be the best dad. Simply put, this was the happiest I had ever been.
Well, almost. It began maybe 2 weeks after the event happened and the money and fame was more solidified. I think it was first just an urge to look at the mug. Then it was a nightmare. Then it was sleeplessness and multiple glances at the mug a night. Why? I was scared that the number would change. I felt that it had to change eventually. Nobody can be top dog forever. There are a lot of good dads out there. Number 2 is probably almost better then me as it is. I had to remain vigilant.
As I started writing my second chapter of the book, I looked at the mug, which I always kept on me now. It still said number one. All was good. To help with this anxiety and paranoia I tried to convince myself that completing the book would be the key to a prosperous future that was no longer tied to the number. I just needed to finish it quickly.
A few hours past and I realized that I should try to go to bed. Tomorrow was a long day. It just so happened that I was going to be on air with the second best dad discussing child care tips with a cable news channel. Hopefully I could sleep, but I doubted it.
The moment finally came. The time to shake hands with another dad in a similar position. I wonder if wants so bad to be first. The handshake came and went as well as a smile that actually did look genuine. We then sat down and began the interview.
The interviewer asked us to put our mugs both on the table so the audience could see. Sure enough, number one and number two. There were oohs and aahs from the live audience. Then the first question was asked.
“So what have you been doing with your family to celebrate over the last few weeks?”
Dad 2 replied first, “I took the last few weeks off so our family could go on a long much needed vacation. Everybody has had a blast.”
I was a bit taken a back by this response. How had he not been taken up by the whirlwind of publicity? I guess that is what happens when you are number 2.
I all of a sudden realized that all eyes were on me. There had been an awkward pause.
“Well ever since I found out that I was number 1 I have been so busy interviewing and writing my book, but we have plans to do a family trip soon.” I replied hastily.
The interviewer interested in the book was about to start asking about the content when all of a sudden there was a sudden shout from the audience. Then more shouts.
“The mugs are changing!” Finally an audible shout came.
All of the color went out of my face. I slowly began to turn my mug around. It now said 2. I flipped around dad 2’s mug. It now said 1.
I looked at dad 2 who was now beaming and felt rage.
“Are you trying to embarrass me? Why did you even come on here if you were having so much fun with your family anyways. Go back and be with them” I said angrily.
My mug now said 304.
The audience began to laugh.
506, 4570, 99578... my rank was decreasing in larger bounds every second.
My families fortune and destiny was evaporating before my eyes with each change of the mug. I was just another normal dad now.
More laughter.
The interviewer then began, “well I guess we just have a normal dad here with us, how does it feel to be normal?”
I sat still refusing to answer for about 10 seconds. Then suddenly, I picked up the other dads mug and smashed it over his head.
Sure enough my mug now was near a billion.
If I can’t be best dad, then I guess I will have to be the worst Dad.... | 2019-10-03T00:11:58 | 2019-10-02T20:33:44 | 546 | 37 |
[WP] You are an immortal that was caught by the mafia after you betrayed them. They deal with you the same way as traitors, chained to a cement bloc and trown in a lac. After 300 years you are finally discovered by divers. | "Hey, *bitch*!"
His booted foot slammed into the side of my face, forcing me into the ground. It hurt like hell. I screamed in pain, despite knowing full well this wouldn't last forever. I cradled my jaw in my hand, struggling to get back up to my knees. I got a glimpse of the man beating me. His name was Cody.
It looked like this was it.
Cody drew a pocket knife, knelt down, and put it up to my wrist. "Why don't you tell me why I shouldn't lay waste to you right this moment? Give me any reason. Beg, grovel, do something, bitch! Don't just take this! Why did you rat on us?! I thought we were tight!"
He wasn't lying. I was best friends with these guys, up until went through an unspeakable deed. Murder and assault, alright. Theft, whatever. I stood by and nursed all their wounds, knowing I wouldn't ever get a normal life until their entire generation died out.
Then they resorted to arson. A family of three were burned at their hands, along with their house and possessions. I couldn't let this happen.
"B-Because...you burned children," I muttered, barely finding the strength in myself to speak. I hit my jaw with the side of my fist, cracking it back into place. It would heal in a matter of moments.
"Seriously!? You were okay with all the other dirty stuff!" Cody raised the knife. This was it. Here it came.
​
"Cody, the fuck you doin'?" A lighter voice came from behind. I recognized him instantly. After all, he's the one that took me from my old job as a nurse to aid their wounded. Jacques Allard was his name.
"Dealing with scum, what'chu talking about?" Cody laughed, pricking my wrist with his knife. I winced.
"She's betrayed us, remember? Just because she was our medic doesn't make her any more special." His footsteps rang through the old bar we called a home. A hand touched my cheek and forced me into his direction. I stared into Allard's eyes. For the first time in twenty years, I felt true *fear.*
My heart pounded in my chest.
"Julia," he uttered, softly. There was anguish in Allard's voice. "Why?"
I was seething inside. My throat choked up, and I could feel my eyes stain with tears. "Y-You burned children."
"Future murderers! What part of that don't you realize?" Allard snapped, striking me square in the nose. My head recoiled back, hitting the table. My vision began to blur. I tried to speak again, but Allard didn't wait. He struck me again.
Then again.
..
Then again.
.
.
Then again.
(PART I) | I was born to rule the world. My destiny, no matter what, was to be above humanity itself. Even though I was raised in a poor household, I ended up being adopted by a rich family - who knows how they got their wealth - my deadbeat father managed to save. That was their worst mistake. Even at an early age, I longed for wealth and power, and the only obstacles to those were those two. In my endeavours to end both of them without suspicion, I found a mysterious mask, which I found out granted someone immortality and the ability to surpass their own humanity. Long story short, I ended up killing both of them and used the mask I found to give myself this power. But alas, the son of the man who adopted me, one who I could almost regard as a brother, looking back, survived, and severely injured me with the help of a secretive organisation. With the help of my minions, however, I managed to board the ship he and his wife were on, and killed him, using his body to recover from my injuries. Unfortunately he managed to sink the ship we were on, condemning me for my betrayal of his family.
After God knows how long, some foolish divers discovered me, while looking for treasure. They had strange and advanced technology, - I would have to get used to it. There were just a handful of people on the both, from what I could gather, just looking for some money to make. Of course I made short work of those fools, and set about on my delayed quest for world domination - a feat worthy for a being such as myself, after exploring the world for a few years.
Before I can do that, however, I have to deal with my "brother's" descendants. Like those mafia families you see in those movies, they had a strong bond, and many friends to aid them. I sit waiting for them in my mansion in Cairo. An old man, two high-schoolers, a master swordsman and a fortune teller, plus some sort of intelligent dog have come to challenge my greatness. They have abilities too, but none as strong as mine. I, DIO, formerly Dio Brando, will defeat them all, and I shall take my place above ALL humanity, for I have transcended them, I have transcended even myself, to become a being far greater than my humble human origins. Let this text mark the begining of my ascent to world dominance.
DIO | 2018-11-24T11:03:28 | 2018-11-24T10:49:19 | 270 | 27 |
[WP] The world's population receives a message that in 10 hours their minds will be 'shuffled', with everyone's mind being transported to another random body anywhere else on earth, of roughly the same age but with no other defined characteristics. What happens?
Additional information if you want more inspiration! The same message could inform everyone that if people are touching someone as the 'shuffle' takes place, both people's minds will appear in bodies as close to each other as possible.
Edit: I had this idea and thought I'd see what people could make with it. I wasn't expecting so many interesting responses, keep up the good work all! | Have mercy. I have not written creatively in almost 12 years and I am writing this from my phone.
"... That is all." The message ended. Lois stared at her tv screen. Around the world, people were in various states of shock, uncertain what this would mean for their lives, but not Lois. In ten hours, everyone on earth would have a different body, some one else's body. It took milliseconds for her normally blank face to break into a small smile. It was exactly the situation she needed. The universe was throwing a perfect curveball. She finally had an opportunity to commit the perfect crime.
Over the next few hours, while lovers said passionate goodbyes and families created elaborate ways of finding and recognizing one another; while the news stations chastised the scientists who created this new inconvenience and gave helpful tips on how to cope with foreign existence, Lois schemed.
She kept the tv on while she went through her options. Its light hued the room with the warm sunlight of another country. It was the only sunlight her small apartment had seen for months. It warmed the cans and painted amber the cigarettes strewn on the coffee table. The room was small, messy. The room was the entire apartment. A blanket and pillow graced the couch pushed against a wall with peeling and yellowed wallpaper. Perhaps Lois would find herself somewhere drastically different, just a few short hours from now. She was sitting currently in a pile of dirty clothes and empty food wrappers. Her dishes overflowed from the small sink, a few feet away from herself and her empty fridge. She stopped looking around her room, around at her disappointment and hatred and everything that was wrong with the world, her world, and turned her attention back to the tv. The reporter on the screen was beautiful, with long black hair and a voice the spoke of the horrors behind her in such a commanding tone. Ah! Lois smiled from ear to ear at the thought of being her.
One hour left. Lois started putting her plan in motion. She had braved the outside world to retrieve her plastic lawn chair from the balcony. Three stories up, she had looked down into the alley next to her apartment. It was grey and damp, a prophecy of what the weather would be like this morning. Lois was thankful she would not be here to "enjoy" it. She placed the lawn chair in the center of the room. The coffee table was flipped over, cans, cigarettes and all.
45 minutes left and Lois took a walk. Her first walk in three months. The balcony had been a test run; this was the moment of truth. She went to the corner store only a block away. There was no cashier and the window was broken. She felt at home stepping over the glass and product that littered the floor. She took what she needed. She nodded a friendly hello to a confused looter. Perhaps it was her unnerving smile or the way she walked with purpose, but he did not approach her to do as he did to the other woman he had met earlier that day. Lois had made an uneventful trip to the store and was now making her way back up to her apartment.
30 minutes left. Lois was out of breath at her doorstep. She paused and listened to the sound of her neighbors. She could not be certain if they were having loud sex again, or if he was killing her. She wondered if there were many like her plotting murder or if her state of mind colored everyone in the same light. She intended to kill the one she hated most, but could see how others might kill for enjoyment. She had thoroughly enjoyed the past 5 hours.
15 minutes left. Lois had practiced a bit of interior decorating. All of her furniture had been moved up against walls. The focal point of her labor was the lawn chair. She had opened the balcony blinds and let the feeble sunlight in. It was starting to rain.
1 minute left. Lois adjusted her necklace as she stood on her chair. It wobbled a bit, one of its legs resting precariously on the old can beneath it. She had concerns about the chair holding her weight but she supposed it would only have to do so for a few moments longer. Her trap was set. She surveyed her room and her master piece. It was a true work of art in her eyes. The count down on the tv began. Around the world, those who were awake were making preparations for the switch. She turned the fan on. She had timed how long it would take. She was calm, but the person who would inherit her body wouldn't be. The rope started to get tighter around her neck but she didn't struggle. If she lost her balance, all the fun would be ruined for her body's new owner and she wouldn't have a new life. A new body. One not hideous and unwanted.
It happened so fast. She was now sitting in a bathroom, facing a full length mirror. She felt sick to her stomach, but guessed that was all part of the body switching parcel. She found herself staring into dreamy blue eyes. The reflected man had dark hair and was shirtless. He was very handsome. What luck! Lois stood up to admire her new body. She stumbled. Something wasn't right. She felt even sicker. Her vision spun around and she had a burning sensation in her stomach. She looked at the bottle in her hand and screamed. She laughed. The bottle found its way across the room and into the mirror. The mirror shattered as Lois slumped to the floor, painful laughs turning into hiccups as tears streamed down her face. The bottle was a prescription for Vicodin. It was empty. It was genius. | President Petty paced around the oval office. It had been 9 hours and 55 minutes since the warning came and the technological anarchists had finally succeeded. Although no one knew who they were, everyone knew what they were capable of.
"Society is doomed," he thought.
Petty was on the phone with Harry Livingston, the prince of Whales, when the message came. As if all the other sound in the world were put on mute, a deep and stern voice boomed through the air and said "The Tribe of Technological Anarchists is informing you that in 10 hours time, your conscious mind will randomly be swapped with the conscious mind of someone else on earth. You will assume control over their body and their possessions. Everyone will be affected. Message over."
The world was used to these threats ever since the TOTA gained telepathic message transmission technology. Typically, they were idol and only meant to stir up fear and chaos in an otherwise mundane society.
A knock on the door startled Petty, and he reached for his pistol that was shoved between his belt on his lower back. He had Brent Myers bring him a standard order, Secret Service pistol, 2 hours after the message. It seemed that the people of Washington wanted answers. He could still hear them screaming around perimeter of the White House while the army kept them at bay. Petty wondered why the military still protected him. "Such mindless drones," he thought.
"Come in," Petty said sternly.
A tall slender woman with jet black hair tied tightly in a bun walked confidently into the room. She held a black leather briefcase in her right hand and a key in her left. She laid both onto the table before looking at the president.
"I know I shouldn't be questioning you, but are you sure this is what you have to do?"
Petty glared at her. It was so easy for her to question his choice. Billions of people will die at his hands and she isn't the one who will have to live with the consequences.
He gave her a quick nod and asked her to leave. He had 2 minutes until the swap and his timing was to be precise. The atomic clock stood on his desk counting downwards.
Growing up, Petty was born into poverty. His mother did her best to provide for them, but she died when he was young. The orphanages were modern day slave houses and he hated them. When he ran away for good, Petty finally saw people for what they were. A begging teenager was not fit for society and people ignored him. He despised the business men who walked by him in their Armani suits. He despised the shop keepers who wouldn't give him bread when he had barely enough energy to walk. He despised the police who harassed him when he was trying to sleep on the benches. Yet, over time he persevered.
Programming came easy to him. The public library was the one place he could go and not be bothered by the people of the world who so desperately wanted him to disappear. Years were spent with Petty closed off, perfecting his craft. He applied to a programming position with Ravene Military Systems and worked his way up for years before anyone in the government knew of his abilities. It was after programming the technology for the curving bullet that he received a call from commander Frile asking him to join the army. It was a long road from military programmer to the President of the free world, but he did it.
Petty opened the briefcase and inserted the key into the lock. A screen turned on with "Password:" appearing in the middle. Petty entered TOTA2v3atomtransfer#T-10execute into his keyboard.
The clock counted down... 10...9...8...7...6...
The elite would finally know what it was like to struggle. Business men, shopkeepers, law enforcement, lobbyists, oil tycoons, and people all over the world would have to start over. It is the great equalizer, Petty thought. He hoped he lived somewhere warm when his body was swapped. He hoped he was a kid again.
...5...4...3...2...1
Petty pressed enter and felt a tingle as the world faded to black. He woke up in a leaky shack with a Buddah statue sitting on the wall. "It could be worse," he thought as he remembered the orphanage. Everything was silent.
His surprisingly strong body walked outside as people all over the village tried to figure out who they now were. "Oh my god!," one man boasted. "I'm free!" Petty assumed he was in jail previously. It didn't matter now. Everyone in the jails would have to be released since they weren't the actual ones who committed the crimes.
Right then, a girl who looked no older than 7 came up to him. She spoke feverishly as she explained that she had cancer and needed her medication. Petty wanted to assure her that her cancer was now gone, but he didn't. He laughed. He laughed because no one else was and as the leader of TOTA, he liked it that way. | 2014-05-17T12:05:00 | 2014-05-17T11:53:24 | 24 | 17 |
[WP] You're a mimic. You were disguised as a chair in a dungeon when an adventurer decided to take you as loot. You've actually enjoyed your life ever since as furniture in a jolly tavern. So when some ruffians try to rob the now-elderly adventurer's business, you finally reveal yourself. | "What are you hooligans doing?" I cried. "This is an old and respected establishment."
"Oy, Cap!" one of the ruffians cried. "Look at this. The chair can talk."
The captain of the ruffians strode up and loomed over me. He was tall and swarthy, with a bushy black beard. He wore a faded blue tunic, and held a steel dagger in his hand.
"You're pulling my leg," the Captain said to his minion. His voice was low and gravelly.
"He might be," I said. "But I'm not. On account of I don't got hands to pull with."
"A talking chair," the captain remarked with a smirk.
"A shapeshifter," I corrected. "A mimic. I can be anything I set my mind to."
"Yet you choose to be a chair."
"Why not?" I said. "What's wrong with chairs? We're incredibly stable. Always around for people to lean on when they need support. We get more ass than wealthy princes. Plus it's nice having long slender legs, a sturdy midsection and broad shoulders, as it were. It's not the physique of your hyper-masculine heroes. But it's handsome proportions nevertheless. I'd rather be a chair than Hercules. And that's the honest truth."
"I don't believe you," said the captain. "I don't think you're a mimic at all. I think you're an enchanted chair, trying to talk big to scare us off. Trying to make us believe you could transform into something truly menacing. But in the end you're nothing more than kindling for tomorrow's bonfire."
"Now who's the one talking big?" I said. "You think you're so tough, come take a seat on me. See what happens."
"Fine," said the captain. "I will."
So he strode up and sat down upon me. But all of a sudden the tall bearded captain was sitting upon a tall bearded captain--a squatting replica of himself.
"Get off me!" I cried with his low and gravelly voice, pushing the man off my lap.
He turned and saw himself--the same beard, the same blue tunic--and we began to wrestle. Our strengths were equal. Our moves were the same. We rolled over one another and back again, until each had the other pinned.
"Get him off me!" we cried to our minions.
The minions looked at one another, confused.
"Kill him!" we shouted. "Stab him! Anything! I'm the real captain! Not him!"
"But captain," said the green-eyed minion, addressing me.
"We're not sure who's who," said the bald minion, addressing him.
"I'm me!" we bellowed. "He's him! Argh! Urgh! Why can't you idiots see?"
In a puff of dark smoke I disappeared. I stood behind the green-eyed minion, pointing at the captain on the ground.
"That one's the imposter," I said. "Kill him dead!"
The green-eyed minion nodded, grabbed his dagger, raised it above his shoulder. Then he paused and slowly turned to face me. He stared with his green eyes into my green eyes. A look of confusion contorted his shiny face at the same moment it contorted my shiny face. With his free hand he grabbed the christian crucifix that hung around his neck, as I did with the identical crucifix hanging around mine.
"Kill him!" the captain shouted.
"But that would be suicide," we whimpered.
"It's not suicide!" the captain bellowed. "He's not you!"
"He sure looks like me," we said, and gulped. "I don't know boss. This is weird shit man. I'm feeling overwhelmed. I think I need to sit down."
In a puff of black smoke I was a chair again, and the green-eyed minion sat back upon me. The captain was getting to his feet. The bald minion was scouring the room.
"Where is he?" asked the captain. "Where did he run off to?"
"Run?" I repeated from under the minion's rump. "I might have four legs, but I'm not much of a runner."
"I'm going to kill you," the captain growled as he stomped over to me.
"Break a leg," I said brightly.
He paused, frowned. "But not tonight. Another night. We have better things to do. More important places to be."
\- - -
check out r/CLBHos for more stories! | Life good, life been good. Life was bad, hunger bad and was hungry so life bad. So hungry life so bad went sleep. Woke up and Big Snackums had me tied in wheeled bed...bed with wheels...wheel barrow...nope, cart, tied in cart. Big Snackums in open though, to many other snackums, hungry but not want die so stay chair. Big Snackums take to place smell like foods, lots foods. Was gonna eat Big Snackums there but foods got spilled on me so ate Big Snackums spilled food. Long time that back now. Big Snackums keep me in place with lots chairs, tables, tasty rattums, foods and drinks. Gotta watch drinks though, drank wrong drinks keep falling over. Almost got thrown out with trash. No more fruity strong drinks only drink drinks Big Snackums says makes pee lots. Smell like pee and vomit too so Big Snackums not notice when pee on floor. Good life, long life, lots eats, lots drinks. Big Snackums got old but found curvy Snackums and had little Snackums. Was good life, never hungry life, made sure always be comfy chair life. Old life silly life, other mimics silly lives. Sit cave or dungeon, wait for rare snackums mostly be hungry life. Chair in tavern better life, good life, never hungry life. Much better life now life.
Moon like big plate two big plate ago, poor old Big Snackums old now, grey now. Ruffians come moon go big plate two big plate ago. Want take what Big Snackums have. Threaten small curvy Snackums as well as also Mrs. Big Snackums. Back Big Snackums young they no think even try or die but Big Snackums old now. Big Snackums weak now. Me not weak now no no no me strong, me healthy, me fed by Big Snackums for long time.
Little curvy Snackums see me but no cry or shout. Got 4 legs move good behind one ruff thug, streeeetch up behind and munch munch munch. Good fresh snackums. Other ruff snackums scream and run, one stick small pokey in my side, make him fresh snackum too munch munch munch good fresh snackum. Ruff snackums all gone. Ate or run but all gone. Big Snackums and family scared but little curvy Snackum come touch, then scratch all fod from done plate on me, bonus food. Then rub and pat me. Big Snackum ask talk Mrs Snackum if same chair he had from dungeon. She think so. He then rub pat. Men in shiney come, Big Snackum argue, feed me then, happy time, sit on me. Me make comfy for Big Snackum. Men in shiney leave.
New life now, good life now. Small curvy Snackums scratch all plates on me before wash. Not drank pee drink get poured on me too. Was holding self in for long many seasons, let go, now bench with back and arms. Six legs! Tavern no visitors I go basement get rattums. Big Snackums sit me all time, I make comfy. Best best, Big Snackums oldest little Snackum with little Snackums of Big Snackums old friends come by. All laugh, all take turns sitting me, laugh more but bring...chest. Chest now table, bench and table have 4 stools around rest of table as well as greedy bucket try hide in kitchen get all plate scrapings. Lots snackums come now, lots food and drinks now, life good now, no hunger now.
(I had a friend when I was a kid whose favorite character actually captured instead of killed a mimic. He trained it as a guard pet so I really loved the idea of this WP) | 2022-10-09T18:25:20 | 2021-09-21T22:43:21 | 1,468 | 156 |
[WP] Your parents choose your attributes, you end up as a tank, 6.4 foot tall, and most of your attributes placed into strength, endurance and intelligence. However, you've always wanted to become an assassin, and now at 18, you strive to meet your goal. | It was time to choose my guild. I was lined up with my classmates during the ceremony. My turn to Choose. Everyone was looking at me, though I was used to *that*. Even now, I towered above my classmates, as thick in one leg as they were in their waist.
Everyone expected me to protect, to serve, to take the hits for my party. Well, I wasn't stupid. The tank is a life of getting hurt. I wanted a life of dealing hurt. I glanced down at the tome in my hands. Long had I slaved this year. Doing awful work after heavy work. Assassination would be no different in effort really, but I did feel a small twinge of guilt when my parents seemed like they might have gathered some small hope that I was training for a more... honorable guild. All that effort and I finally got the tome that would make everything possible.
Everyone knew it was at this time that I would get a skillpoint. One that I got to pick.
As customary for those who choose the Assassins guild, I threw a smoke bomb at my feet. Finally time to put it to the test. I remembered the tome and everything it had taught me, willing myself to be small. Smaller than I'd ever been. As small as... a mouse.
As I scurried through the grass there was hushed whisperings. To be an assassin, you had to hide in plain sight and sneak up on the Head Assassin present in the crowd. They whispered it would be impossible for someone my size to get through the crowd without him noticing. Even with an invisibility spell.
I positioned myself behind the Assassin and resumed my natural form. The Assassin quickly spun, knife pressed to my throat. Her face was deadly serious. Then she broke into a grin, and her knife seemingly disappeared as she did a little excited, enthusiastic dance.
"Polymorph, huh? This is going to be great"
She didn't seem like an assassin. But then, neither did I. | They'd kill for my physique, all those puny fuckers who want to play football or something. It'd be wasted on them.
I'd kill to be small and slight. I'll kill anyway, but it's harder when you're a giant.
I asked my mom why they maxed me out in strength, endurance, and intelligence.
"Your father and I have both had a hard time in this world. We wanted you to have strength in the face of adversity, to weather life's storms, and to never be taken advantage of. Was that such a bad goal? Can you say we didn't want the best for you?"
"I guess you had no way of knowing that making me big would stand in the way of my profession."
"Stop that. You can't blame your failures on your physique. And you sure as hell can't blame them on your father and I."
My size means I have to be more stealthy than assassins half my size. I have to plan the hits even more carefully so I can get away, or so no one notices and I don't have to.
The hardest part, honestly, is getting hired. Your reputation is everything as an assassin, and it's hard to develop one when you're the size of a truck. Well, that's not entirely true. You develop a reputation - as an oaf.
I won't let it stop me. I won't let any of it stop me. I'll become the best there ever was. I'll use my size to my advantage. I just might have to squash a few more bugs along the way. | 2017-09-27T06:50:32 | 2017-09-27T02:57:19 | 103 | 24 |
[WP] You die and appear before the Devil and seven other individuals. They applaud you and the Devil exclaims, “finally, an eighth deadly sin!” | *The light grew dim above me. "We're losing her!" a masked man yelled, pumping my chest as another forced something into my mouth.*
*It was all so tiresome.*
"Well, you've done it. After two thousand, six-hundred, and forty one years, you've done it." a voice exclaimed excitedly.
As I emerged from the cavernous hall, the group seated about the table turned to look at me expectantly. Three women, five men, with expressions varying from amused, to disgusted, to downright hostile.
The silence stretched for an eternity, before the speaker cleared his throat and continued. He was beautiful, soul shatteringly so. "We've waited for you for, well, thousands of years. You're my eighth. I almost thought I wouldn't find another, but you... You are *exactly * what is eating away at humanity now."
I stared at him as the man in the Armani suit snorted. "Please, she's just a new face for sloth." At his words, the drowsy looking man to his left became alert, his large Bassett hound eyes taking on a wounded look. He opened his mouth to speak...
... Only for my soft laugh to interrupt him. They fell still, eyes burning into mine. They knew of my mortal sin, that I had taken my own life. But I doubted any of them truly understood the why.
"Sloth? No." my voice whispered like snakes over dead leaves. "I am not Sloth. I am the Darkness into which light will not shine. I am the Cold that never warms. I am the Emptiness never to be filled, the Nothing that will become everything. I will consume all, until the light of Creation itself is darkened." Silence met my words. The silence of the gathering storm.
I spread my hands out, like a preacher at prayer, beseeching those before me. They looked almost... Nervous.
"I am Nihilism. And I am the End."
**authors note: I'll probably flesh this out more later, when it's not 0000.** | They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die, but it didnt happen for me. In fact I didnt get anything. Just black out and fade into a dimly lit room.
"Candles? The fuck is this? A fucking Bath and body works?"
The large room contained eight beings of which I paid no mind.
I wandered up to the table in the centre an sat down at the head chair.
"That's my seat! How dare you take the seat of the prince of hell!" A pretty looking fellow with fucking angel wings was shouting at me.
"Listen skippy, I'm not sure what you expect?" I waved my hand at him dismissively.
"The fucking balls on this one? Mmmm I like him." I turned to take in the sultry voice of a female in tight leather pants. She was stunning yet, like my daughter, you know, looked like the type who gobbled dick, more dick than a coked out Daniel Tosh.
"I'd grab you by the pussy" I winked at her.
"Remove yourself from my seat!" The pretty angel guy was not letting this go anytime soon.
I removed my left shoe and tossed it at his perfect face. It struck him square in the nose and he fell backwards in shock.
The others surrounded him and helped him to his feet.
"Alright my little muppets." I said standing from the chair. My left foot landing something squishy that I paid no mind too.
"Allow me to introduce myself, I'm goddamned Donald mother fucking Trump!" | 2019-01-12T17:16:59 | 2019-01-12T15:27:37 | 261 | 18 |
[WP] In what seems like a cruel prank by a bored God, people started developing powers based on their worst fears. people afraid of heights got the gift of flight. arachnophobia? get the power of spiders. phasmophobia? necromancy/ability to speak with the dead. Your power is... hard to explain... | “So what is your power?” The administrator says. Everyone has one all we know is they are made from our worst fear, once our worst fears are fully developed at around age 10 - 12.
“Well, I am not entirely sure. Sometimes things just happen. They tend to happen?” I say as to misdirect the conversation. For some context I have been at the center of many insane coincidental tragedies. Pretty much anyone who follows them knows my face.
However there are a few things. One no matter how many people test to see if I am lying or in anyway when asked if I intended for the tragedy to happen. They run all the tests and note that they have nothing to get me with.
When I leave I wave goodbye to the head chief. “See ya’ hopefully at a bar or diner or something. But we both know this will happen again. I don’t like it, but. It’s true. Can’t even keep me locked up, the boiler will blow breaking open the front door or something.” I don’t look back but I can feel it the chief is in a state almost laughing but you could tell. The melancholy in the air.
Outside there was a swarm of reporters. There were few familiar faces, he’s done this a million times before.
They asked all of the questions “what exactly happened?”, “why do you think you are walking free?” “Are you aware how suspicious it is to survive these situations multiple times in a row?”
I answer all of the questions as I always do. As neutrally as possible.
That night when I get home I feel my heart racing. Tears swell in my eyes as the emotional toll hits me. At first I couldn’t hold it in once I learned what I had done I was inconsolable for days. But after the fourth or fifth time, I almost started getting used to it. Of course the first few times happened when I was really young and I had no way of knowing what activating my powers felt like.
Today however, it’s different I onow the exact moment when I should confirm my surroundings to keep them their. If I had to count off of the top of my head then I’d say I’d stopped about 100 - 200 incidents. They almost happen in times right after my mental health jumps into the shitter as well.
As I rub my eyes I stare into the darkness behind my eyelids. “Okay count from 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Ok, Now you know you are here, your heart is beating And you are thinking you don’t feel any pain. Next the door behind you is attached and so is the floor. By extension the walls and everything below you. And since the walls also suport every floor above you they are still there as well. Everything in your apartment is still here. You saw the windows, none of them were broken or opened. Now, the building is still here, the cars out side are still here, since I don’t hear any pandemonium, everything should be here. Now,”
“OPEN YOUR EYES” I yell that every time, it always seems to help. It’s a good thing it can’t happen when I don’t notice my eyes ever close, because then waking up would be this whole ordeal. You probably want to know what I am afraid of and what it does. Well basically I have Optiohobia, the fear of opening your eyes. When I close them, I always get anxious that when I open them something important will just be gone. And when I do open them, everything
I don’t convince myself is truly there disappears like it never existed. I don’t know if they are turned into particles or simply erased or what. It’s why they could never get me, traces of my power on any object can’t exist because those objects would be gone. | My first power was short lived. As a child, I was terrified of wasps. If there was a god, he laughed when he gave me the power to transform into a wasp. It was wondrous, the first time I flew was the best moment of my life. As a wasp, I was able to communicate with the other creatures that had once terrified me. We built hives together and slowly they became like family to me…until the day I dropped out of the nest as a human. Crumpled on the ground, with luckily only a sprained ankle, I tried my hardest to transform only to find myself straining to do the impossible. It was then that I realized: I was no longer afraid of wasps, because as a wasp, they had become my friends; some of them even lovers. If you are curious as to how a wasp goes about falling in love: it’s none of your business, go watch a nature documentary, but I refuse to share my stories. I will, however leave it at this: most wasps are bisexual. Interestingly, the nest I fell from somehow still recognized me in human form, and they never attacked me; in fact one of them even stung two teenagers repeatedly after they attempted to break into my car. The experience was overall incredible but left me with a new fear: I would never have a power again. However could I retain a power if upon gaining it , I lost my fears? I fell asleep, pondering this as one of the wasps I had previously feared so much slept tucked behind my ear. Although sex was now impossible, she didn’t seem to mind that I was human again, and took comfort in being near me. I had named her Aimee, and although she had initially buzzed in annoyance for being given a human name, it grew on her.
I awoke, disoriented. I was no longer human or bug but I was all things and nothing at the same time. I experimented and found I was able to create storms, while being the storm. I could transform into any creature, I could be a blade of grass, or a leaf falling in late September. I was time, and able to travel through all the periods my history class failed to describe accurately. I slowly realized that my fear of having no powers resulted in me being all powerful. Amazing as it was, I quickly grew bored and rather lonely. After traveling the globe twice I finally came home and was happy to once again return to human form. As I lay down in bed, I heard a buzzing at the window. Shaking my head, which was even as human, a constant rotation of ever changing faces, I opened the window. It was Aimee. She was the last survivor of the hive, which I guiltily suspected I had a role in. I considered, briefly, turning her into a human. As I thought this her antennae quivered, telling me this was not her desire. Once again though, I climbed into bed and she gracefully flew above me before coming to land on my ear. She buzzed once, as if to say goodnight, and then fell into dormant sleep. It had been the first time I’d smiled in…countless days. De I did smile though, and and I drifted off to sleep I could feel the comforting albeit tiny weight of Aimee as she slept behind my ear. | 2022-05-14T22:11:22 | 2022-05-14T21:10:03 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] 'Please Adopt Me', said the box on the side of the road, with the single black puppy in it. So you did. A year later, you realize the breed is a bit complicated, considering it has three heads, a snake tail, and breathes fire. | Cerberus. Cherubus. Chubbus. Chubby Pupperus. Chumbawumba. Chuck. Chonk. Chief. Charles Doggerton Whizhydrant the 3rd.
Even now one head was snuggling against my leg, the long rattlesnake tail behind him swooshed back and forth happily with maraca pace, this dog head as thick around as my thigh already. The middle was stooped down and ferociously eating the raw gazelle I'd bought from the local hunter group. As it took a bite down, it breathed fire through it's clenched teeth, searing the meat in its jaws to a medium-rare as it swallowed it inward. The left head was vigilant, staring ever-outward for signs of motion in the woods outside the porch screen door. Though the squirrels had long since retreated the area, there was still a light stench of incinerated rodents wafting through the air, and the squirrels didn't like that one bit.
I sorted through the morning's mail. Bills, medical items, stupid advertisements, all the glories of morning mail. As well as a literal stack of sealed, full sheet envelopes from interested dog breeders. Photos, histories, bribes, threats. All the usual items.
Beside that stack, just as tall, were various revelations, condemnations, declarations and accusations from almost an entire planet's religious fronts.
I don't pay them much mind. The one time a nutcase tried to shoot Cerberus, the bullet glanced off his hide and ricocheted into the man's car. Cerberus didn't even stop playing fetch.
The one time they shot me, well, I woke up to Cerberus dragging me out of what I'm pretty sure were the gates of Hell, some archaeological site in Greece, oddly enough. I'd never been to Greece. And being naked and covered in soot made for an interesting period of self reflection as I made my eventual way home. I have a deal with the embassy now, they leave a change of clothes, blankets and a phone for me at the site, saves a lot of time.
I hoisted the stacks and chucked them into my custom fireplace, atop which lies an immense iron slab/bed and Cerberus' favorite toy, a tractor tire, which he adorably uses as pillow, chew toy, playmate and... rather recently, lover.
Suddenly Cerberus went tense, even the middle swallowed and stood still. He haunched lower, straightened out tensely. "H- Hu- Hurk- HUURR-". Oh fuck. | Franklin had been trying to deliver a letter to this blasted house for twenty minutes now. He would've been finished and on his way, too, we're it not for the terrifying oddity that stood in the yard, chained by silver to a literal Crucifix sticking out of the ground.
It was a mammoth beast, at least two meters tall and with eyes that glowed as all six of them glared through Franklin's pitiful flesh and into his very soul. The dribble from its three mouths was boiling. But for all that, it remained perfectly still, save for a wagging tail made of a snake.
"Well, this is just great," Franklin muttered. He stared at the mailbox hanging off the front of the house. It wasn't very far. He might be able to throw the letters inside the slit.
"Oh, but the circular...That's way too big to bullseye into such a small hole."
"Can I help you?" a voice asked from behind. The unexpected intrusion into Franklin's meditation shocked him so bad he lept into the air. When his heart slowed down enough to convince him he wasn't having a heart attack, he looked around and saw a sweet young woman standing behind him.
"I'm sorry!" She said. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"Oh, no. I was... I was just wondering how to get past that huge dog in there without getting bitten. When you spoke I... Well..." He gave a nervous laugh. "Well, I thought..."
"Oh,you don't have to worry about him. He's my dog. And he's very friendly. I found him in a box on the side of the road a few years ago. I decided to keep him as a pet. He's a lot of work, but super sweet. Very good watch dog."
"You're telling me! I was terrified! May I ask what breed he his?"
"Oh, he's Cerberus, the Guardian of the Gates of Hell. I don't think that's really considered a breed."
"Oh, OK. Well, here's your mail!" Franklin gave a friendly grin and went on his way. | 2019-07-04T09:11:58 | 2019-07-04T09:06:27 | 24 | 17 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | "Look at that idiot swinging a sword at my playful Gilgamore." I said while looking out of my window from the top floor of the tower into the courtyard.
Every damn time... I don't know why they think they need to *Slaaaaay the Draaagon.* What was this, some Walt Disney princess movie? Did they honestly think that if there was a real dragon threat that it would of killed me by now? My faith in the common sense of man was quickly dwindling.
​
I watched as Gilgamore swiped his claws at the "hero knight in shining armor". He literally cut the poor sap in half at the torso leaving the legs standing there for a brief moment before collapsing to the ground lifeless. It happened so fast you could still see the eyes blinking before remaining open with death. I couldn't help but laugh as I used the usual stone to mark another tally on the wall. That makes fourteen this month and a hundred and twenty seven this year. The deaths were always gruesome yet satisfying to me at this point. Just another useless, dumb sack of meat removed from existence for the betterment of mankind.
​
Gilgamore, now done playing with his new friend, transformed back to his original cute sized self and turned to enter the back door of the castle after swiping the remains of the would be hero into the moat of surrounding lava. It took me three solid months to teach him to clean up after himself. He was a Draconian Hybrid mixed with the legendary Fae dragon species, the smallest of their kind, and the Germanic Puk species. He had a silver colored hyde, an off white underbelly, and *usually* stood about a foot tall and had a wing span of almost three feet His tail was just as long as his body easily making him around two feet long. He liked to transform into a much larger dragon resembling the poisonous Aspis dragon when "visitors" came by with the hopes to leave carrying a beautiful princess in their arms through smoke and flames. He was rather protective but he only meant good with each interaction. He was born into this castle from an egg I received from a local merchant that came by about once a week. Mervin was a kind fellow who Gilgamore took a liking too shortly after hatching. I bought the egg out of sheer hunger from Merv about a year ago. I remember thinking back then that it would make for a great breakfast omelette with the bear sausage I purchased recently. To my pleasant surprise, Gilgamore was born from the egg the next morning as it was sitting by the coal oven. Since then, I have been raising him as my pet.
​
Shortly after my little GeGe cleaned up his mess I saw the lamp light up at the end of the rope bridge that hung over the lava. It was Merv. But this time I saw him standing there with another figure. I guess GeGe noticed it at the last second as I saw him quickly turn and run dow the hall and head towards the front castle door to greet Merv and his friend. As the two walked across the bridge, light broke through the clouds and I could start to see the familiar face of our friend. He was a lively sixty seven year old merchant that would always carry rare goodies in a rucksack. He had peppered, long hair just past his shoulders and always had on cargo shorts and a wife beater with socks that came up to his knees that jutted out from his homemade sandals. The clouds soon devoured any light that tried to shine through right before I could get a good look at the other person accompanying him. Halfway down the stairs I heard him ringing the bell by the rope that hung next to the main door.
​
​ | “Doesn’t anybody get it!” I yelled at the confused knight standing below my tower.
“SHE IS A PET!” I barked at him. My rage getting increasingly higher as these people kept coming to kill my Grengold Dragon, Dempy.
The knight looked up at me, his eyes wide with utter confusion, and surprise.
“But..”
“NO BUTS! Honestly you people cannot take a woman’s word can you!? I have told every stinking “warrior” that comes here that Dempy is not my prison guard, SHE IS MY PET DRAGON! Don’t you people have some amazing little invention CALLED THE NEWS?!” I yelled again from my lighthouse home. The knight let the tip of his sword fall to the ground.
“But the news said you were in danger? The guy even said you were in a coma...” he mumbled, looking down at a rosebush hoping for some explanation.
“Do I look like Rapunzel? Does this look like a Princess Prison to you? AM I THE ONLY ONE WITH A PET DRAGON?!” At this point I was ready to wake Dempy, asking her to just eat him already. She was laying peacefully in my courtyard, her muzzle tucked neatly under her wing as she snoozed.
“I’m sorry to disturb you ma’am. I’ll be on my way then.” He stuttered. He gingerly turns around and begins walking away, defeated but utterly confused.
“AND TELL SOMEONE ELSE WHILE YOUR AT IT!” I called, slamming shut my window as the tin covered man slowly disappeared down the driveway, his hands making gestures of “how can I be so stupid? Its the 22nd century”
“Those idiots. Never can read a sign. Its been 15 years and people still don’t understand that dragons are friendly. Whats lunatics.” I say to myself. Dempy was still sleeping, her ear flicking as she slept soundly. I wondered over to my other window, overlooking the courtyard, watching the gentle giant curled up. Her pretty purple scales glistening in the moonlight, highlighting her horns and featuring her golden feathers on her wings.
“Thats why they call you a Grengold. Your colours are just wonderful.” I smiled softly, my rage dissipated.
The dragon slowly opened one eye, noticing me staring at her. She sleepily raised her great head, yawning at the moon.
“Hi Lucy.” She whispered, her sharp white teeth showing a grin.
“Good morning Dempy, how are you? I just rushed off another idiot. You’d think they’d learn to read by now.” I chuckled.
Dempy laughed. “Its the 22nd century Luc, they know nothing!” She smiled, finally getting up and stretching her wings out.
“You want to go for a flight?” I asked her, knowing exactly her reaction.
“YES!” She roared, flapping her wings and jumping like a dog going for a walk.
“Common then!” I yelled, climbing on my window sill and sliding onto her wing as she stretched it. I always loved the soft feel of her light blue feathers. I climbed up onto her neck, clutching the chain collar she wore, and flew off into the night with her. | 2019-01-09T10:46:09 | 2019-01-09T10:14:11 | 38 | 25 |
[WP] A bard is kidnapped by orcs. At first the bard is terrified, however the orcs actually treat the bard with much more respect than any tavern full of drunks ever had. It seems the ability to sing and play instruments is extremely rare amongst orcs but even they love music. | Too many nights I came home, my clothes stained with food and ale from the multitudes of drunken boors of the tavern. Though I made enough to scrape by, not a soul cared for the craft and creativity. But what choice did I have? What other skills could I provide? I was not strong enough to be a hunter or warrior, so what use would I have outside the smoky, stinking, and clamoring confines of the city taverns? How could I possibly live successfully?
Those concerns disappeared the night the orcs raided. The tavern was full as usual, but after mere moments where patrons stood only corpses lay. As the carnage raged around me, I closed my eyes, hid the tremble in my voice, and continued to play, my melodies being drowned out by the thudding of weaponry into flesh. When the sounds of death died down, I stopped playing, and opened my eyes once more to see a score of orcs watching me closely. A lump of terror formed in my throat, and I cowered away as broad, rough hands closed in and bound me. I'm fairly certain I lost consciousness from the adrenaline and terror, but when I awoke, I was unbound and surrounded by orcs, with a roaring bonfire at my back. At my feet, however, was not rope, but a score of instruments, no doubt looted from other towns and taverns.
Watching my audience carefully, I picked up a set of bagpipes and inflated it. I remembered my teachings, and though it was never popular among the people, the old familiarity came back and I was filled with a desperate confidence in that moment. And so I began with The Green Hills of Tyrol, and watched as a sea of eyes grew wide with amazement. Behind me, I heard the cautious thud of drums that eventually grew louder and complimented the shriek of the pipes, and above the thud I heard a rhythmic chanting and grunting that grew to a furious crescendo. When I finished, I heard something I hadn't heard in a long time: applause and cheering. All around the encampment, orcs were thudding their chests, hooting, and hollering with enjoyment. Emboldened by this, I grabbed a banjo and began a quick strum. The drummers I heard thumped along in rough time, and a raucous celebration began among all attendees. In a loud, proud voice, I began to sing:
"Must it take a life for hateful eyes
To glisten once again
Five hundred years like Gelignite
Have blown us all to hell"
I continued to sing, and all around festivities erupted like water flooding down a gorged river. My smile grew, and the hours blended and flew by until it was dawn once more. When I ceased playing, I was led to their chieftain, a mountain of a being with scars and muscles covering his leathery skin.
"Never once have we come across one as skilled as you," he grumbled. He extended a meaty hand, and I shook it as firmly as I could. "Any of those graced by our gods with such gifts have long since passed, and those who have tried to follow their path have found nothing but frustration. You, however, have brought a joy to my people, one that we have been sorely lacking. Please, stay with us. Bring us this joy often, and I promise you a place among us befitting your skill." This expression of appreciation and compassion shocked me, and I considered my options, what few I had, and happily agreed.
From that day, I not only became their bard, but I became their teacher as well. Both young and old came to me, looking to learn the ways of song and instrument, and I took all comers gladly. Though I was a human, I became revered for my skills, and soon the encampment became a haven for orcish people everywhere and a hub of their society. While they still remain true to their nature and raid their enemies, they now have the thump of drums, the skirl of pipe, and the roar of joined voices to help bring them victory. | Well, I suppose I should have run. The tightness of this moldy bag stifles my breath. My breath, the gift of song and joy, all I can manage now are gasps. I can hear them grunting in some guttural language. From the belching I assume they took some barrels of beer with them amid the violence and the fire. The Patchy Dragon Inn is a smoldering memory now, and nobody will know what happened to Fjordo the Gilded Voice. The wagon bumps and creeks a little more now, we must be making our way into the valley of these savages. One particularly rough bump sends me forward, my face crashing painfully into what sounds like...my lute? Why the devil would they bring my lute? Perhaps a prize, a souvenir. The bastards! On of them pulls me upright and sits me back down. More grunting. It sounds angrier than before! Perhaps they won't wait until we get to their cave, or village, or whatever they live in. Maybe my life is over now. A cry to the ancients wouldn't save me. They've already cursed me with talent that no patron has ever appreciated. I couldn't even scrape together enough coin to pay off my room and get out of that damn hovel they had the nerve to call an inn. Suddenly, I feel the bag slacken and raise. Air! Glorious, precious air! The cool of the night is amazing, even the dread of seeing their stony expressions is paused for a moment. The moment is fleeting, now as dagger is being passed down to the one next to me. I shiver, uncontrollably. "No! Please! I beg of you!" My voice comes out shrill, warbling. I'm turned, the dagger is behind me now. I know the cold steel will tear my throat. One last struggle doesn't amount to much when you're bound by hand and foot. The Orc grunts and holds me down. This is it.... Or is it? My binds slacken as I feel the momentum of sawing. Perhaps they want sport first. I will have to move deliberately, slowly, lest I rouse their blood into frenzy like those fools did when this band of marauders first walked in the door. Fair to the Orcs, they hadn't come to start anything but a tab. They certainly finished things though. Nursing my wrists, I steal glances at them. They all seem to look serious, but there is an air of curiosity. I can't tell where we are, but I suppose that keeps me from running. One of them picks up my lute. No. "Unhand her!" I couldn't stop myself. Lucile is my only companion in this ugly, hard world; I can't lose her. I'll have to make my stand here and die with the last shred of dignity I have left. The brute studies me for a moment, unfazed, then turns her around, handing the neck to me. I'm completely floored as he begins mimicking me strumming, and grinning. Another taps me on the shoulder, and I find a cup of beer in my hands. Now they're all smiling. Not those bloodthirsty teeth from before. No, they look more like a bunch of children I used to entertain for practice as a lad. I've never seen anyone over ten happy to see my performances. Coughing a few times, I clear my throat and shakily raise my drink, taking a deep pull for courage. As I begin to pluck Lucile, I decide to improvise a new song. I think I'll call it "The Balled of Noble Outcasts." | 2020-05-13T16:05:21 | 2020-05-13T16:01:01 | 63 | 22 |
[WP] Humanity finally figures out faster than light travel and discover that they are completely average by galactic standard, except for one thing, our innate ability to bullshit our way out of any situation. | "So," the General asked, "What you're saying is that humans are *not* distinguished by our superior talent for battle?"
"No, sir. We've been over this."
"Are you quite sure? It's been my understanding that our willingness to kill each other and our fearlessness in combat make us the scourge of the galaxy, spoken of only in whispers by--"
"Your understanding? It's *been*...? What does that even... I'm delivering news of the first Galactic Conference to you. Who could have possibly told you this, this asinine story?"
"I just assumed, given our bulldog-like tenacity and strategic mindset--"
"Sir, our research is hardly complete, but it seems quite evident that humans are less apt for strategic thinking than most of the Conference-attending species, of which several possess higher-order intelligences or are capable of seeing some distance into what we understand as the future; and we are physically weaker, slower, less resilient, and less technologically advanced than any other sentient beings. From what we can tell, humans are distinguished primarily for being, in the eyes of the Galaxy, dumb, selfish, and cowardly."
"Which means we're able to outmaneuver most of these alien creeps, right? We're cowards, but in the smart, tactical way. One-on-one we might not be a match for an alien, but that's why they say, *Make an enemy of a human, and you've made the deadliest enemy in the universe.*"
"You... that... *who*...?"
The General smiled hopefully. The Ambassador sighed.
"Actually, there does appear to be a recently coined saying about humankind, but it's more along the lines of *Put a human in a room alone and it will invent an imaginary enemy, pick a fight with it, and somehow manage to lose.*"
The General pondered this for a moment, his eyes narrowed, chin perched thoughtfully atop his fist. "True, we are the most warlike of beings... we carry battle in our blood. A great cross to bear. Yet, with great power comes great responsibility."
As the General wandered off, lost in thought, the Ambassador sighed again, in mingled relief and embarrassment--relief that the conversation was over, and embarrassment at the thought of this man engaging with the Xyth'lian delegate scheduled to attend the following local summit on Mars. The Xyth'lian had their own variation on that saying: *Wherever they go, humans convince themselves they're better than everyone else, even after losing a fight they picked with a small child over something only an idiot would care about.*
Apparently it flowed better in the original language. | "And here dear trainee, that's how humanity succesfully hold their territory, and gained it's place amongst the star, any question?"
I couldn't believe it, Humanity way to the top of the Galatic Races wasn't by clever planning, genius military mind, better armament or thanks to our scientific progress. But it was because of a lie ?
"Sir, am I really free to ask any question?" The colonel looked at me with a mysterious smile, "Of course, you are after all at the end of your training into the Union secret services, we need you know and *understand* how things work for us as a species in the middle of so many."
"So, if I understand correctly, the aliens outnumbered us?"
"Yes."
"Their fleet was so strong we could not even scratch it?"
"Yes."
"They destroyed many races that were on the same technological level than we were when we encountered them, without even sending more than *one* of their destroyer?"
"Yes."
"But they don't understand what lying is?"
He chuckled "Yes."
"So when a random French colonel send them a transmission about the fact that we had come from an other galaxy, that we had a gigantic fleet ready to blink on their homeworld and destroy them. They just believed it ?"
He had a hard time containing his smile. "Yes."
"After this transmission, the US miltary and the Chinese one, seeing that they took the bait, just rolled with it and confirmed it ?"
"Yes."
"And they decided to ask them to become tributary states, give us their technology so we may decide if they could keep it, and they accepted it ?"
"Yes."
"That makes me wonder how they could even develop their technology to leave their planet."
"Well to be frank, we're still unsure, lying is such a huge part of our daily life that their inhability to comprehend the concept is quite astonishing."
"And my role now, is to bombarded them with fake news to keep them under control, because they can't understand what we are doing."
"Yes."
"Well, it's boring when it's so easy."
He looked at me a bit sad "Yes."
Edit: Correction
| 2018-01-30T06:56:55 | 2018-01-30T06:14:54 | 164 | 118 |
[WP] When the zombie virus broke out, you were prepared. You quickly became the country's #1 zombie hunter - until science found the antidote to the virus that turns zombies into healthy humans again, retroactively making you the #1 mass murderer. | The trial was kinda a joke. I mean, I get that they had to do it, but considering the plague at its height infected almost half of humanity, you'd figure most everyone killed or contributed to the killing of \*somebody\*. I'm probably not even the guy with the biggest kill count overall, that goes to the pilot who loosed that nuke on Mumbai.
But I was the face of it. While most of America was cowering behind the Rocky Line, I was broadcasting live on Twitch and Youtube, big smiles and big guns coming to you live from the zombie occupied East Coast. Tips, interviews with experts, some half-assed comedy and a LOT of creative zombie killing. Five times a week for 8 hours a day (12-16 on holidays) I was not only the most popular live streamer, but for one glorious interview I was the most watched broadcast in human history (by percentage of un-infected eyeballs.)
A one on one with the president of what was left of the U.S. of Goddamn A.
I was doing my old format, joking and asking questions from the chatters while asking the President to name celebrities. Then I'd take my Remington, pick out someone from the crowd that looked like the celeb named and fuckin drill'em. It was a bit from a old movie and a little hackney'd but everyone had fun with it. Kinda took the piss out of the ghouls for the kids at home, make the whole thing look like a joke huh?
Anyway, I had just taken out someone who apparently looked like POTUS's high school bully (He kinda didn't get the game) and I was time to wrap up. I said I had fun, and he looks right down the barrel of the camera in whatever undisclosed shithole he was hiding in and says "Son, you're doing your country proud. Keep up the good work." I tossed a frag over my shoulder and into the crowd of Z's below. "Is that an order sir?" I lazily quipped.
Fucker announced the cure 12 hours later.
He got me off though. Not directly, through a pardon, but when over 300,000 individual murder charges are dropped overnight the President might have something to say about that. Now all I have to worry about it the millions of surviving relatives trawling through two years of archived live streams, looking to see if it was me who clapped their mom.
Dipping out of the country won't be hard. I still have all of my pre-plague I.T. certs, and there are plenty of countries that had far harsher responses to the infected who now find themselves in desperate need of skilled labor. I'm sure that after things settle, nobody's going to come looking for revenge.
But since the cure, I haven't been sleeping as well. Not full nightmares, just... rough going. I have to take a couple Ambien, maybe have a beer. I keep having the weirdest fucking dreams about celebrities. | "All rise!"
The wooden walls of the Palace of Justice did little to stop the chilly winds of Nuremberg. I had always been too sensitive to the cold.
The judge walked up to his chair and sat down, looking down on me. I didn't need him to speak, but he did nonetheless.
"This court finds the defendant guilty of the 12 charges brought against him." There it was, realization hitting me like the truck I used to drive, the one with the metal spikes on the front. What a beautiful car that was, it served me well, too. "For the crimes against humanity of murder, incineration, impalement, beheading, and many other horrible deeds that need not be described here, the defendant is hereby sentenced to the electric chair." Even if you already expect an outcome, like when your old dog becomes sick, and barely limps towards his food, and you know the end is near; even then, when you see it come to be, it compresses your heart.
I will not take this laying down. "You can't do this to me! I was saving you!". The judge stood silent. "Nobody knew they could be cured! I did what I had to...what I thought I had to do, to survive."
"You've had your chance to defend yourself." He spat out the words as if uttering them pained him. "Monsters like you deserve far worse."
"This is a circus! My lawyer doesn't even believe me to be innocent. This is just a show to feel good about yourselves." I turned around to the crowd, populated by cameras and indifference. I looked straight at the lenses. "You all asked for me! Begged for me! Now you have the gall to leave me at the hands of the firing squad. When my flamethrower liberated your towns, was I banished, or was I showered with gifts? When the military proved too pompous to concern themselves with your settlement, did you turn me away? I killed the attackers, I...lost people myself." I clenched my necklace, imprinting the shape of a heart onto my skin. A tear rolled down and clung on my chin. "So when you tell me that I'm the monster, just remember who played Frankenstein!"
"I've heard enough, drag him away." The judge signaled the bailiff, who took me by the arm and pulled me. I no longer had strength. I could no longer fight.
May the next hero die before he can be turned into a villain. | 2022-01-17T12:55:01 | 2022-01-17T12:33:53 | 945 | 108 |
[WP] A while back, you and your friends started praying to a goddess you had made up as a joke. Unbeknownst to you, your constant prayers have made the goddess real and she’s eager to reward her faithful followers. | It had started off as a joke. I had been making a world for a new campaign for our dungeons and dragons group. Naturally, this required me to create a pantheon of gods. Although most were farily forgettable, one stuck with me. The Goddess Ra'ah, the Divine Healer. She was fairly generic, being a Goddess whose followers sought to heal and cure. But something about her made her stick in my mind.
Nonetheless, she was a part of the world. We had begun playing, having a blast. It was only when I gave myself a papercut that it started. I was in character as a priest of Ra'ah, and so covered with a hand, and spoke with a solemn voice.
"May the Lady's light heal me."
Of course nothing happened. But we loved it. It gmbecame a running joke to us. Whenever we hurt ourselves even slightly, one would touch it, and ask for Ra'ah to heal us. It was silly. We knew it was nonsense. But it was our nonsense.
Even when Sandra had a bad fall, breaking her arm we kept it up. Each time we met up, I would lead the prayer of healing. We found a sort of comfort in it. We weren't really religious people, but the ritual was calming. She said it made it more bearable.
After her cast was off, she designed and had made copies of her holy symbol. It was a stylised sun, with the head of a rose in its centre. It was touching when she presented them to us, with more than one of our number growing watery eyed.
I walked into a door handle in the session following. As usual, I omoit my hand against it out if instinct. But this time I touched the symbol, speaking again.
"May the Lady's light heal me."
To our amazement, the symbol beneath my hand began to glow a soft white. The glow was matched by the others, all around the the table waiting for me to bring in a prop. The glow from each grew, before somehow detaching and floating through the air. They gathered into a single point, before a flash temporarily blinded us.
I blinked it away, mouth falling open at the sight before me. A beautiful woman stood there, a gentle smile on her face. Her eyes were golden, circled by tattoos of twisting vines. She wore a simple white dress, with a pair of dives sitting on her shoulders. I knew who she was immediately, her design held in my mind. Somehow, impossibly, this was Ra'ah.
"My beloved followers. It is good to truly see you."
Her voice was gentle, flowing through the air. It warmed my heart, putting me at ease though I knew I should be scared. The pain in my side melted away as she smiled at us, hands clasped before her. I put down the prop goblet I had made, bowing my head. I knew what to say, as the priests in my world would say.
"My Lady, your presence is a blessing to us all."
My friends concurred, standing to bow. She gave a small laugh, light and geniune.
"Oh, please raise your heads. It is I who should be bowing. You gave me life, for that I am grateful."
I watched her bow in turn to us all, before lightly stepping forwards. She put a hand on my shoulder, her touch like a sunbeam on a cold autumn day.
"My Herald. I am in your debt most of all for being the core of my religion."
She turned to the others, giving them each a heartfelt smile.
"But that does not mean I am not indebted to you all as well, for following on the beginning. You all created me. There is nothing I can do to repay you as much as you deserve. But I can do what I can."
I could see the same feelings on my friends faces as I felt. Wonder, peace and joy. Ra'ah lightly stepped up to each, subtly growing or shrinking to be just slightly taller than each. She gave them a kiss on the forehead, making their eyes spark.
"You are all my Clerics. I give you the power to ignore harm, and heal those who you touch. I give you the strength to protect the innocent, and save them from evil."
She turned to me, her eyes damp. Her smile was wide, joy the evident cause of her tears. She gave me a kiss on my forehead, like the others. I felt a jolt, as a part of my mind shifted. But instead of pulling away, she rested her forehead on mine for a moment.
"As my Herald you too have the power of my Clerics. But you also can call on me, wherever you need."
I struggled to find my voice. She noticed, nodding to me.
"Please, speak."
I swallowed, moving to stand by my friends.
"What, what do you want us to do?"
Ra'ah gave a giggle again, walking up to us. She picked up one of our character models, looking it over.
"My only want is for you all to live long, happy lives. If you are asking what I wish, I would wish you spread my name, and help those who cannot help themselves. But I do not demand. If you wish to spread it, I wish for you to do it of your own free will."
She put the model down, stepping back.
"Those gifts I give you are precisely that. Gifts. I will not take them back from you. Use them as you will. The only thing I ask is that you do not forget me."
I looked to the others. They turned to look at me, each giving a shallow nod. I smiled back at them, before turning my gaze back to Ra'ah.
"We will not."
Her smile widened, and she held out her arms.
"Thank you. Thank you all."
Her form faded, leaving us alone. I looked at my friends, both exhausted but energised at the same time.
"So.... that happened." | We had done it hundreds of times at this point. Every time we met up for our "Green Day", as we liked to call it, the five of us stood in a shape that looked vaguely like a pentagram in the middle of the room. We weren't Satanists or anything, but since the whole act was against everything our Christian education had taught us, it added to the fun of the occasion.
Then we said a prayer to Her Highness.
"Praise be to Her Highness,
Goddess of good feelings and high spirits,
With every passing day
You lift us all up a little more."
"Her Highness" wasn't real, of course. She was a figment of our collective imagination, created to add to the escapism element of Green Day. I had chronic back pain, and somehow after a decade of visits to the doctor, mystery injections, and spending enough money to buy a new car, this was still the one thing that brought me relief, if only for a while.
My friend Janice, across the pentagram from me as always, bore no physical pain, but one look into her eyes told you there was something going on beneath the surface. Even when she otherwise seemed happy, that strange darkness was always there. Only on Green Day did her worries truly seem to disappear. It was like flicking a switch; all of a sudden she became the life and soul of the group. To her, the prayer to Her Highness was just as important as it was for me.
Her Highness represented life and laughter; a way to ignore all of our true problems. After praying to Her and carrying out Her work, we could become different people, isolated from the things that plagued us in everyday life.
So you can imagine our surprise when, this time, *she actually appeared*.
As we uttered the final words of our prayer, etched into our brains at this point, a loud hum filled the air. At the same time, a bright light appeared in the middle of the pentagram, in the shape of a vaguely human-looking figure. Upon finishing "a little more", the figure took a more definite form. We watched in awe, trying to take in what we were seeing.
She was, without a doubt, the most bizarre creature I had ever seen. She appeared to be a plant, and yet had human appendages, bearing five-fingered arms and flat feet that looked like long, thin leaves with serrated edges. Her face was made of leaves too, that knotted and twisted to form a nose and mouth. Droplets of moisture above the nose made the shape of eyes.
But her physical appearance was nothing compared to her *smell*, the smell that I had known since the age of 18. The smell I had grown to love. The smell that meant relief from pain. And it had never been so powerful! I wanted to get closer to her, to wrap myself up in that smell and keep it with me forever.
"Greetings! It is I, the Highlady," she said in a trill voice. "It must have taken you a lot of effort to summon me here. A pentagram is an unusual shape, but I'm here now, so it worked."
We were all still staring, wide-eyed, unable to comprehend what we were seeing. I wasn't sure what to say, other than ask a question that I already knew the answer to.
"Your... Highness?" I asked.
"Oh, is that what you call me? That's adorable!" she exclaimed, genuinely excited. "I like it. Maybe I'll use that name from now on. Highlady seems rather antiquated.
"But I must say, there is something about your group that I truly love. Every time you prayed, I saw you. I saw you truly enjoying yourselves, excited to partake in my sacred ritual. Having fun, looking forward to being able to escape all that which troubles you in this world.
"Some people think I'm a goddess of the state of being high, but in some ways I'm much more general than that. I am a goddess of *enjoyment*. Nothing makes me happier than seeing people enjoy themselves. And today, I come to help you in achieving that goal. That sense of being utterly relaxed, happy to be with your friends, feeling like nothing can get you down. So, without further ado... *enjoy*!"
And with her final words, all the life seemed to leave the goddess. The plant-human body fell forwards, as though it had had a heart attack.
"What the - what happened to her?" I cried, still not sure what was going on. Had we already started smoking? Was this some strange hallucination? No - this was way too detailed to not be real.
Janice, ever the one to think before acting, knelt down to check the body. She touched it gently, almost afraid to make contact. Of course, moments ago it had been home to a goddess, so it made sense. That darkness, that fear and worry that disappeared during the prayer, had returned to her eyes.
And it vanished just as quickly.
"Don't worry!" she said, uncharacteristically brightly. "She helped us alright - look!"
She held up her hand, revealing a dried bud.
Her Highness hadn't died. She had delivered us the weight of an entire body in weed. Enough to raise our spirits further than they had ever gone before, to lift us to new heights.
That day, we carried out Her work, and went higher than we had ever gone before. | 2022-10-29T16:58:01 | 2022-10-29T14:05:45 | 286 | 50 |
[WP] Write a story that has spoiler tags all over the place. The story has two different meanings: One when reading without looking at the spoiler tags, and one when the spoilers tags are moused over.
Not sure if this is too confusing, so I'll post an example sentence.
The man loves [the severed head of](/s) his wife. | A few days ago, my wife died after [](#s "I helped her along with") a tumble off the roof top.
The doctors decreed it an unfortunate accident. God, I was wretched. My wife had died [](#s "because of me"). I couldn't be more despondent [](#s "while around my friends").
At home [](#s "however"), I jumped [](#s "for joy, and dived") into my work, in an effort to distract myself from the constant thoughts about her [](#s "crumpled body lying on the cold stone tiles"). I knew it wasn't healthy, her always being on my mind, so I decided to take a trip to get away from it all. [](#s "I was finding it was difficult to keep up the act of being disconsolate all the time, and I had some money of hers to spend anyway.")
Jeez that was a hell of a lot harder than I first thought. It's so difficult to have it actually sound like a legitimate story!
| So, here was John, [Spoiler](#s "Trying to decide how to murder Jack") with his hot girlfriend, Cindy. Jack [Spoiler](#s "only at day") was a nice guy, but the couple [Spoiler](#s "was trying to save the world by killing a guy who would destroy the earth, but Jack made the whole world turn on them and think they're the bad guys, so right now the couple") and Jack are terrible enemies. [Spoiler](#s "Now since Jack brainwashed them, the world thinks that") the couple is the bad guy for trying to assassinate an innocent, caring person.
(Oh dang this is hard.) | 2015-06-07T19:24:11 | 2015-06-07T15:12:48 | 210 | 15 |
[WP] Two prison guards discuss a prisoner who is apparently immortal. He's been in jail with a life sentence for so long that no one knows the reason for his imprisonment. | "Cutbacks," said Dan.
"Cutbacks?" Charlie said, distracted by the paperwork. There was always paperwork.
"That's what they're saying. All non-violent offenders are up for early release."
Charlie looked up. "Nobody knows if this guy is a violent offender."
"Well, apparently that's good enough for government work. The guy's got a clean record inside. Don't think I've ever actually seen him speak a word."
Charlie contemplated. "Come to think of it, neither have I. The whole story about him gets around...you know these guys in here, they're all big and bad but they're superstitious as hell."
Charlie went back to his paperwork. Dan fiddled with his phone. All was silent for several minutes.
Dan broke the silence. "You know my Great Uncle worked here, back in the day."
Charlie looked up again. "And?"
"When I got a job here, my uncle, he told me about this guy. He didn't say much, he had Alzheimer's at the time. All he said was that the guy never, ever changed and everybody was too afraid to do anything about it. Luckily, the guy never caused any trouble so nobody had to."
"Your uncle, he, uh, didn't know why the guy was in?"
"Nah, the only rumor I ever heard was that he ratted some guy out a long time ago. That ain't criminal, though. Maybe they were into some illegal shit. Who knows?"
More paperwork. There was always paperwork, but today there was double.
This time, Charlie broke the silence. "Time to outprocess him, I guess. Can you call him in?"
Dan hesitated. "Shit, no...you do it."
Charlie prodded "Damnit, Dan, just call the guy. You've been supervising the guy for 25 years."
Dan relented and called the prisoner into the vestibule. He had a prisoner number, like everybody else, but it started with a lot of zeroes.
Charlie picked up a rusted metal box and signed some paperwork. He read the standard release agreement to the prisoner, who just stared.
"Returning your possessions...let's see. Coins. Silver. Count: 30."
The prisoner nodded, collected his coins, put them into a small Ziploc bag, nodded again, and walked out into the sunlight.
Charlie went back to his paperwork.
There was always paperwork. | Concrete walls create long hallways, the cell's metal bars breaking the gray. Behind one door sits a prisoner who is immortal, and no one can remember his crime. In front of him two guards argue about his imprisonment.
"Well how can we really know that they did wrong if we can't remember what they even did? For all we know he might have served his sentence last tuesday!" Barry was sure of his argument that he should be put on strict parole.
Thomson looked back at Barry, obviously distraught by his words. "That's too dangerous, we can't have a possible psychopath on the streets. To do something that would get him jailed for so long, he must have done something deserving."
"That's not true! Some people are put in jail for financial crimes, or scams. What if he's a con artist?"
"So? We should still keep his sorry ass in jail. He did something wrong and should pay the price."
"I just don't think jails should work that way."
"Well sorry for trying to protect people like I'm supposed to."
"I'm just saying we should file a petition!"
By now, Barry was already on his last nerve. Even though he knew he was probably in there for a reason, he felt that if no one even knew that reason, then they couldn't keep him locked in jail. Barry quickly walked off uttering only "Watch the other prisoners" before arriving at the main office to try to file a petition in his name. Even though he wasn't sure he could even make one of those, he wanted to try.
In front of the jail cell Thomson felt a chill on his back. "You want to know how I got immortal? The trick is to trap you in here". Thomson felt all his energy being sucked out of him, and seeped into a cold damp feeling, t
he feeling of being stuck in a pit. His eyes now glazed over, he watched as the man who's supposed to be guarding him walked off. | 2015-06-01T21:05:28 | 2015-06-01T17:53:40 | 552 | 14 |
[WP] A masked vigilante starts fighting crime in Los Angeles, except everyone knows it's obviously Elon Musk. | It was late on Skid Row. The tweakers and gangbangers were doing their nightly grind. I was unfortunate enough to be around. I took a turn to a less populated street and before I could backpedal I heard it.
“Don’t move.”
Three large men surrounded me. The one in the center gripped a knife.
“Empty your pockets and walk away.” The man spoke coldly.
Suddenly I heard a distance noise.
It sounded like the song “Radar Rider” and it was growing louder.
A massive light was growing and hurling towards us. It was a Tesla Roadster coming out of the sky like a meteor!
We scattered out of its path, but the car completely obliterated the man in the middle.
In the smoking inferno of Tesla ash and appendages, a figure jumped forth.
It stood in a bright red metallic suit, with a massive “T” on the chest.
“Let him go!” Came a voice so recognizable it could command a cereal line.
The men, laying on the ground in a daze, looked up in confusion.
“Fine,” the masked billionaire vigilante said, thumbing his nose, “sorry, nothing personal.”
He grabbed the man nearest and placed a three piece rocket to his back. He then propelled him 50meters into the air before the side rockets split off making a perfect landing. The middle rocket carried him into orbit where he remains to this day.
The final man began crawling away was snatched up by the collar and asked trembling...
“What are you?”
The red suited figure responded in his immaculate CEO tone,
“I’m the Muskrat.”
He then threw the man into the air and ignited him with a flamethrower, which I imagine is fun.
He walked towards his burning car, but before leaving turned to me.
I was bloodied and bruised by the impacts and my hearing was completely gone. I was in shock, but I did hear his last words before he flew back into the stratosphere.
“Mars colonization will belong to the private sector, kiddo.” | Say what you will about the man, but one thing cannot be denied - he is punctual.
It must have hardly been 15 minutes since the teller hit the panic button. Frankly, it should be renamed as the Calm-but-I-disapprove-of-what's-happening-here button.
Silent as the night, he came. His black suit gleamed under the warmth of the day sun. His face was covered in some sort of futuristic helmet and his arms were covered in metal. He walked in and stood in front of the lobby.
"Where are they?"
The old woman, pointed to the back of the building with her thumb, still chewing a stick of gum.
"Thank you, Barbara."
"Give 'em hell, Electro."
Five minutes later, two bodies came crashing down on the floor. And along with them came two plastic bags full of cash.
"No one threatens my city," a not-so-subtly disguised voice spoke to them.
As Electro walked away, he saw a little boy in the corner, shivering. He walked over to the kid.
"Are you alright?"
"Ye- Yes."
Electro put his hands into his shirt pocket and produced a small card.
"Call me if you need me, Kid. Electro never fails."
With a salute, Electro left.
-----
"Get up, Jason." Barbara commanded the man lying closest to her. "You too, Mark."
Jason and Mark stood up and dusted themselves.
"Get back to work. Next time, don't hide."
----
Outside the bank, a Tesla S was seen speeding away.
"The things you gotta do to keep that boy distracted." Barbara said to herself. | 2018-02-07T12:44:50 | 2018-02-07T07:30:53 | 596 | 213 |
[WP] You are a nice person, but your superpower is that you instinctively know exactly what to say to someone to crush them. You're very effective in throwing supervillains off their game, but your fellow heroes always feel really uncomfortable watching you work. | Despite what many people think, there isn't actually one perfect line to break someone's spirit. Sure, on the cartoon, they have me say one singular line, and then they'll show whoever I'm talking to reeling back, the line echoing over and over while appropriate, transparent images of their past flash across the screen, but that doesn't really reflect reality. Honestly, most of my effectiveness comes from hours upon hours spent understanding human psychology, allowing me to take the lines that my power feeds me to better understand whoever I'm talking to, so I can set up situations where my lines will have maximum impact.
Anger, Fear, Mania, Despair. Four emotions that I can push people towards. As far as most of the world is concerned, I can only do Despair, because frankly, it is the easiest to predict how people will react to it. Most people will shut down when confronted with despair. They might try to hurt themselves, but the chances of them lashing out blindly are very, very small, making it the safest direction to push villains towards.
The most frustrating thing is how my power is always on. Anytime I interact with someone, I will see four transparent sentences pop up in front of me. One red, flickering like it is on fire. One white, constantly twitching and jittering. One black, seeming to leak an eerie mist. And one blue, seeming like it is melting or slumping over. Each of them tailormade to push whoever I'm talking to a little bit closer to their respective emotion.
Time and experimentation have taught me that the sentence I'm given isn't guaranteed to be the 'best' sentence to push them towards a given emotion, merely 'a' sentence that will do so. If I follow the 'script', I'm pretty much guaranteed to get to the desired emotion eventually, but it can take time and multiple interactions to do so, and so I've had to learn how to pull information from the other sentences, or from past sentences, to construct my own 'ideal' phrasing.
If anger talks about their mother and fear talks about their father, I can make guesses about their home-life when they were young. I can build a model around the kind of life they might have lived, which can provide context for why mentioning how they always would have dropped out of high school can push them closer to despair. Add in a twist, mentioning how their mother always really knew they'd never amount to anything, she was just lying to spare their feelings, and the push to despair happens that much faster.
It's not nice, it's not kind, but the crime statistics show that it is most effective method I could use to getting the criminals off the streets, and getting them to reconsider being criminals at all.
Still, the constant nature of my power opens me up to fearful truths. Hidden secrets get uncovered within those four simple sentences, secrets that I'd probably sleep better not knowing, but will honestly feel the need to track down regardless.
Secrets like why I'm seeing a Fear Sentence of "your scales are showing" while shaking hands with the newly elected President of the United States. | Shit. She couldn't believe it. Which one of her fellow heroes had written it? Her stomach sank. Didn't they understand? She was born with the ability, and had trained through trials and sufferings that many of them could not imagine, no matter how tragic their backstory. The very same power that gave her her abilities to heal, comfort, nurture, were the very ones that gave her the ability to cut the coldest of hearts, those reptilian brained foes who were fluent in the most depraved of psychological warfare, to the core. Her wit, her writ, her wretched tongue could be the deadliest of blades. But oh, the amount of compassion and care it required to wield her weapon.
Her fellow heroes were predominantly male. The gifts they developed, and strengthened, were usually different from hers. Psychic warriors were rarer than even female heroes, and that was saying something. The female lineages had been demonized, and hunted nearly to extinction, although they were now quietly on the rise. Paladins were ALWAYS male, as they required both the gifts of the psychic warrior, and the Herculean one. To have a female Paladin, and one who had descended from Bards, Healers, and Seers to boot? Well, such a thing was never expected. It was a lot for the male heroes to adjust to, she supposed. After all, many of them had descended from Hercules himself, from some forgotten Berserker, from Arthur. She was something rare, and they either feared her, wished to posses and control her, or simply paid her little regard.
She wasn't offended by this. Not really. She was more saddened than anything, although she new it was better this way. Being perceived in such light would protect her, for she didn't want anyone to know the truth; she was a Duality. The very few Dualities that had existed were either ostracized like Lilith and the Morrigan, or purified like Freya and Persephone. Only a fellow Duality could see and understand one as a whole....but such things no longer existed. She was alone in this Realm, and that was that.
She blinked at the words on the screen before her, read them again. Her interest was peaked, and like the Feline that is her other form, she regarded the seemingly harmless, and perhaps concerned?, post before her with curiosity. Her eyes narrowed. Who *are* you, she wondered. She inhaled, closing her eyes, zeroing in on the energy imprint left tangled in the InterWeb. Connection engaged, she began to write her reply....
Edit: typos | 2020-02-25T14:34:20 | 2020-02-25T12:17:21 | 271 | 66 |
[WP] You are short, skinny and well below average intelligence. Yet, you've been hired by a group of elite soldiers to help with some of their most dangerous missions. Your superpower: sheer dumb luck. No matter how close to death you come, reality always follows the path to your ultimate survival. | “Sargent, how much further?!”
I can feel my toes start to seize up with every step, as I hear the crunch of snow beneath my feet and the remnants of last night’s stormy winds across my face.
We had been marching across Siberia for days…*or was it weeks?* We were out of food and supplies, and then the storm hit. 90mph winds and 30 below zero, we had no choice but to keep marching under the night sky – millions of lives depended on our success. I was surrounded by men that trained their whole lives for situations like this, though I could see the pain and despair setting into their dark eyes, hidden behind hard-lined faces.
Yet, once again, I had given them another reason to keep me alive. Sheer. Dumb. Luck.
And once again, it showed itself useful as we stumbled upon a settlement at the edge of the tree line up ahead.
“You goddamn son of a bitch! I knew you were special!” the Lieutenant yelled, gasping between words. The Sargent remained silent, cold-stoned as ever.
Miraculously, the settlement was vacant and full of much needed food and supplies. It was the only place we’d come across in days marching through the icy plains and patches of dense forest trees. We quickly started a fire and ate to our hearts’ content. As I stared through the flames, between crackles and pops of the pine wood, I continued to wonder how many more times my luck would save us. Why was I chosen? Just a year ago I was back in Chicago, playing hoops with my friends and riding bikes after school. Now that seemed like a lifetime ago….
Once we mustered enough strength and energy, the Sargent quickly got us back on our way. We were a day behind schedule and couldn’t waste any more time. Luckily, the storm had subsided and the temperatures rose. The last few miles were upon us as we made way to the silo. We had to complete the mission. We couldn’t let the Russians proceed. And we most certainly were going to need my LUCK.
​
*This is my first attempt at creative writing, but after reading some amazing pieces, I thought I'd give it a try...I was a little short on time so it is not as complete as I wanted, but it's a start!* | English isn't my first language and I never really write but let's give it a go.
"All the trouble in school, the bullying, my parents being angry and dissapointed. There wasn't a single day I didn't hate myself, for who I am and for who I have become. One little accident who sealed my faith. My dumb luck which saved me and the scar which brands me to this day.
It's a sunny day today, as sunny as it was on the day my parents got another visit from this nice lady with the pretty blue badge with 3 letters and a majestic eagle. I tried to peak through the door, but sadly I was too clumsy. I slipped and fell on the ground and got busted without hearing a word of what they were saying. The door opened after a short silence.
The suited woman told me to come in. She explained to me, how I never was in an accident, why they experimented on me and what my only reason to live is.
As reason to live? Fine, maybe I wasn't smart or talented but even I didn't think I NEEDED a reason to live.
But I didn't have a choice, the faith of one life is nothing compared to the future of a nation.
In a way, I was happy. I suddenly felt important, I didn't have to worry about my future anymore. Fine, I was a puppet in a fucked up system but at least I was something. ...Right?
The same day the agent came, I had to go. I was quickly assigned a room in a big facility. Training seemed futile, as I was too short and weak to even survive the smallest of wounds, so it was clear I had to work with a group of soldiers who protected me at all times."
... God writing is tiring. I'm not even close to my ideas yet. Idk if I will continue. | 2020-04-18T07:00:09 | 2020-04-18T06:54:45 | 78 | 47 |
[WP] You're the normal guy the evil emperor keeps around to point out obvious flaws in his plan. It's a pretty sweet gig, but there are some annoyances. | We had the party in the council room. It seemed like I had spent my whole life in there.
There was a long rectangular table. On each side were generals and superpowered henchmen. At the head of the table was my boss, Emperor Chiropteran. I sat in the chair to his right.
The room was filled with balloons and streamers. Battle-scarred men do their best to wipe the glitter from their shoulders.
It’s my retirement party. They don’t think I know, but I’m smart. Seeing the hidden things is my job.
To the emperor’s left sits a five-year-old child. It’s their birthday too. We each have a cake sitting in front of us. They’re vanilla, with buttercream frosting, and small, about the size of a bowl of cereal. They’re identical, except for one ingredient.
The Empire rules ten planets, and has ruthlessly stomped out thousands of heroes. Their success comes from following a code, letter and spirit.
The rule in the code that concerns me is that an emperor must always have a five-year-old advisor to tell them obvious flaws in their plans. I have saved many lives during my tenure as advisor. And been responsible for the deaths of many of the emperor’s enemies.
Those deaths weigh heavy on me. I will enjoy my retirement.
I take a bite of my cake, and taste the extra ingredient. It tastes like bitter almonds.
What do you do, with a small child who has been privy to secrets of the highest level, when it comes time for them to be replaced?
You let them rest.
______________________________________________________
15/365. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated. | At first, he only kept me alive because of my skills as a master mason while he enslaved the rest of my people and drafted them to his army. Then over time as our King gradually grew more obsessed and unstable, I became one of his most valuable assets, forever bound to him and constructing for him elaborate castles and obstacle courses with my bricks in attempts to foil his nemesis.
But this guy- let me tell you about him. You wouldn't expect someone so short and fat to be able to do the things he does, but somehow, *somehow*, this guy easily jumps over and even *DESTROYS* some of my best work. Eventually as I too grew to hate this man, who slaughters my people and destroys my work, my King worked with others and I to create a new plan to foil his mustachioed foe.
We have finally all agreed on one. I am to work tirelessly to construct as many bricks as I can, while a master wizard is to steal the very souls of the people from this kingdom, and place them all in my bricks.
My very first WP, please be gentle. | 2018-01-15T21:43:05 | 2018-01-15T19:24:14 | 90 | 16 |
[WP] Suddenly, everyone’s life is worth 100,000 USD. Kill someone, and $100,000 is instantly deposited into your bank account, no questions asked. But, your life is now worth $200,000. | It started shortly after the worldwide currency was instated. It took about a year for the world to adjust to the new currency. It was a simple system, which is ultimately what allowed it to work. Countless theorized that it would never happen, that the world couldn’t agree on one currency. It worked like this: create one system of money, in this case a series of coins. Then, to abolish the old monetary systems, give everyone 100,000 Checkers. I got the idea for the name while playing the game, I’m not the most creative.
The next part wasn’t my doing, but my partners. I made and designed Checkers, he programmed the actual currency. He explained the system to me but I was high as hell so I don’t remember much. I do know that it’s what we wanted.
What we wanted? Fame. Well *I* wanted fame. My partner, his name I can’t legally say, wanted to die. That’s why I killed him, a shot to the head on a livestream with both of our bank accounts shown. Once he died, 100,000 Checkers were deposited into my bank account. And this started the Scramble.
The Scramble. God how I miss the days of the Scramble. They couldn’t immediately shut down Checkers, it was the world currency. Murder was already illegal, there was no need to make new laws. However, is is all from the eyes of those in power. To the people, it was incentive. And a damn good one at that.
I remember my grandpa telling me about a movie that he watched as a teen called “The Purge” where they made all crime legal for a day to let people be crazy. I never saw it, but I assume the Scramble was like that. Everyone went crazy, murdering without grace. They felt laws meant nothing, so they stole and raped and killed. Eventually, the other crimes stopped. Murder became the new law. And then the world became as I wanted.
You now know me as The Founder. You know me because I planned you to know me. Always remember, I wanted this. I planned this. When I pulled the trigger on my partner with my gun, I’m sure you know which one I’m talking about. The all white revolver with gold inlays on the handle and barrel. I modeled it after a gun I saw in a museum once. I always liked guns. I wish I could fire an actual gun rather than the high power laser bolts we shoot now, but fate may not allow that. There are two things you can’t escape in life: fate and death. Anyway, when I pulled the trigger on my friend, I planned that. When you pull the trigger on whoever you kill, know that I allowed you to.
This was always the plan. | I fought for this right. We all did. Until we saw what It can do to us. We had no choice. Overpopulation was a problem long before I was born. Earth was figuring out diffrent ways to kill us. New disaters, new sicknesess and everyone's life, precious. So we decided to make the choice ourselves. First, we started with the criminals. And than we became the criminals. After that first kill, you know, there is nothing like it. The power over another's life... for a moment you are god, and you know there will not be anything anymore that can stop you. No need for guilt, or remorse. Instead, a reward. But they tricked us you see, they never said it would be like this. That I would be this searched and in need to be hiding here. They never said they would double the price for murderers.
And may I know, how much is your worth Grampapa?
My dear boy, why do you want to execute me yourself?
You've never taken anything seriously. I just need to know how many? And anyway How long do you plan on staying here. I hope you have a plan. I can't countinue to hide you forever. If father finds out, he will tell the authorities. And trust me, they aren't better here on Mars. In fact, they are much worse.
I will go Mark, as soon as the dust settles. I'm sorry for the trouble I have caused you. It's not because I wanted to. The choices I've made. I don't believe anymore that anyone of us makes their own choices. How can we, with our limited world view. We can just smile and nod along the way, or act miserably and rebel at it all. Either way, it comes down to you being unrecognizable to your self during the end.
Where will you go?
I don't think I should tell you for your own good. I'm meeting up with an old friend.
I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to sound harsh. It's just I am worried about you. I wish I could be able to do something.
It's ok son you did the best you could.
*Sorry for my English. I'm not a native speaker. | 2020-01-31T18:37:31 | 2020-01-31T18:35:39 | 75 | 10 |
[WP] You have the ability to pull any fictional character out of their world and into the real world. The catch is, every time you take a character out, you must put someone in their place. | A sudden knock resounded from the hallway as James woke. He found his body sprawled out upon the couch, adorned with a number of beer cans and kool-aid sachets. His head thumped almost in line with the repeated knocking outside as he sat himself up in a pained movement, cradling his head in his palms.
The knocking continued.
"James! We need to talk." A muffled voice said, followed by several more knocks. James scrambled to his feet and -with bottle in hand- opened the door. In front of him was his neighbor, Gary, holding a table cloth stretched open with broken pottery strewn out on it.
"Yeah?" James asked, offering little more than a sigh as he stared down to his companions bare feet, his toes wiggling on the cold stone.
"You see? You see this shit?" Gary nodded his head down to the jagged clay. "This is getting out of hand."
"Look, I'll pay for another pot." James shrugged, drawing his bottle up to his lips. He pulled it up expectantly, yet all he could taste was disappointment.
"That's not the point. Your dumb friend is terrorizing the whole street." Gary said, pulling up the cloth and tying the corners together. He set it aside and tugged James onto the path. "Look." He said, pointing down to one of their distant neighbors.
The dim sky welcomed James with what little light it could offer, which blurred his vision as he squinted out. He saw a couple standing by their door, holding each other as they looked out upon their garden. As James followed their focus, his attention fell upon a man dressed in various shades of green, his sword swinging at the plants that had not already been decimated.
"Hyah!"
"Who does this guy think he is?" Gary asked, nudging James on the shoulder.
"I'm not sure. He doesn't really say anything at all. I think he's a mute."
"Then how do you explain that yelling?"
"I think he found the kool-aid..."
----
Meanwhile, a young man sat himself down amidst a stretching field of grass, his face a drooping expression of defeat, and his eyes staring out aimless and lost. Floating beside him, an aquamarine wisp buzzed in the air, sparkling under the moonlight.
"Hey!"
"Hey! Listen!"
"Hey..." | Dad's always busy. Whenever you ask him to do something no matter what it is, he just says, "Later." Later, later, later--and tomorrow comes but later never does.
So you pretty much have to replace him. You hardly seem him anyway. He's either at work or he's telling you he's too tired to go swimming this weekend or he's too busy to help you with your history poster. He'll help you *later.*. After he gets through some dumb thing at work, he'll have more time and he'll take you to Kings Mountain (except he won't because then there'll be some other dumb thing at work).
You take the magic dial and hold it over the latest *Action Comics*. You twist and twist until Dad's gone and Superman is there. Superman won't ignore you. All right, he looks a little confused right now, but Superman can do *anything.*
Except he throws your only baseball into the next county. And he's going to get it back, but he heard an earthquake so he has to go rescue people. And then there's a burning building. And a cat stuck in a tree (which is not a Superman level threat, but he lectures you about kindness to animals when you point that out).
He does take you to Kings Mountain, but he keeps disappearing in a red and blue blur to help people. Which is what Superman's supposed to do and you'd be disappointed if he didn't do superhero stuff, but it's not much better than your Dad being gone all the time if he's never really there for very long.
When you get home, you flip through the comic. Dad looks pretty freaked out at first, but by the end he's gotten a job with Lex Luthor. In the last panel they're shaking hands and you really don't like Luthor's face. Or Dad's.
You'll wait for next month's issue to decide if you want to bring Dad back. | 2017-09-28T13:11:33 | 2017-09-28T12:46:50 | 34 | 12 |
[WP] Only a direct descendant should be able to wield your weapon, the hero's sword. When the neighbour's daughter came to play with your son, you were surprised to see her waving said sword as your son happily chased her. Your wife now looks at you with a literally chilling gaze. | "Honey I promise you I never slept with her!" I cried while backing away from my bat wielding wife. "And I don't know why you think i did!"
"Oh you don't know do you?" She replied pointing in the kitchen. "Then explain that!".
Confused I looked into the kitchen unsure of what I would see, and there in the middle of the floor lay my ancestors blade. Called 'the blade of righteousness' its imbued with the power to banish the strongest demons and can only be wielded by one of the right blood line, a direct descendant of the original hero who banished the demon king 1000 years ago.
"Neither of our kids took that from the study did they?" I asked as I went to pick it up, thankfully the sheath was still firmly affixed.
"No." She replied. "It was the new neighbors youngest Sally." She was looking less angry and more dejected now. "She just picked it up. We should have fixed that wall bracket." I understood immediately, my family doesn't advertise the sword and its existence is a family secret as are its properties and apparently I'd done a poor job or explaining them.
I walked over and embraced her gently. "Yes, yes we should have. I'll do that tomorrow. But honey I have never cheated on you before and never will."
"Than how can she hold the sword, only your bloodline can!" She was working herself into a fury again quickly. "So that means" "Not my bloodline the bloodline of an ancestor from 1000 years ago." I quickly interrupted to stop the anger. "1000, and the books say he had 7 children. Those kids had kids and so on. There's probably millions of people on this planet that can use this sword by now." I took a step back, held up the sword and looked at it. "My high school history teacher was a very distant relation, and he could wield it. It's not that surprising if you think about it. I'm sorry, I'm not good at explaining things and I should have been more specific when I told you about the sword." I put my arm around my wife and led her to the living room couch. Once seated I resumed talking. "My cousin, the geneticist, hes actually surprised that our genetics haven't changed enough over the years to render the sword unusable." I gazed at my wife willing her to see the sincerity in my eyes. "The new neighbors are distantly related to me probably. I have never, and never will betray you. I promise." | Confusion overtook me as I saw the neighbor's daughter playing with the sword.
My wife grabbed me by the ear, "Inside. Now."
"I should get the sword back-"
"Alright." She sighed and let go of my ear.
I took the sword from the child and went inside.
She was glaring daggers into me, "Is that kid yours?"
"No. She's not- unless..."
"Unless what?" She asked.
"Remember how you initiated a threesome between us and her mother about nine months before the girl was born and we thought it was to another?"
Her eyes widened, "Oh."
"But she looks nothing like me. None of my features are present that would distinguish her as mine. Odds are she isn't my child. It seems like the legend was off to some extent. Our son can wield the blade because of relation to me, naturally, but the girl has always been... Different. On top of that we don't know if that part only takes effect when I die, or if it made an exception, or what is going on. Let's not jump to conclusions just yet."
My wife nodded, "Go check on the kids. I'll be inviting her mother over for dinner."
I could feel the anxiety hit me like a truck, "Alright."
I walked back outside to check on the kids, and... Nothing.
It was far too still for a day like this, so I drew my blade and went to investigate.
Off the shore of a small pond the two often liked to spend time at, behind a small thicket, I found them, and I smelled a very familiar metallic scent.
I immediately checked on them.
Some of their blood had mixed into the ground, but they weren't dead.
Then I felt a very familiar, intimidating presence behind me.
"Ah, Thantos, long time no see. Here to suffer the same fate as your children?" I heard a gravely voice say.
"Oh no..."
Update: thanks for 5 upvotes! I just wrote this off the top of my head after not sleeping all night, if you want another part to this let me know and critique is always welcome! | 2020-06-13T06:38:39 | 2020-06-13T06:32:49 | 182 | 29 |
[WP] Everyone's soulmate's name is written on their right wrist when they turn sixteen. The left has worst enemy. Your left and right wrist say the same thing. | 12 hours. That’s how many hours I have till I know the name of my soulmate. I have my phone charged and ready to find them on any social media. Having waited years to meet them I dreamed of my birthday. I’ve spent years of my life watching romcoms. Turning 16 is huge. You can buy ads with your name and your soulmates name. Ever sense the names started showing up about a century ago dating has long sense gone out of fashion. I rub my wrist anxiously. What if they live across the world? I have $1,000 saved for traveling but that’s nowhere near enough to cross the world and stay with them. I researched soulmates. Most share birthdays, so names show at the same time. So I know my soulmate will be looking for me. I couldn’t care less about the enemy thing,
6 hours. I try to bide my time but the excitement is overwhelming.
1 hour. I haven’t left my room in hours. I sit phone in one hand and eyes fixed on my wrist.
15 minutes. I’m shaking. It’s finally happening. I get to meet my soul mate. Ever sense I learned about them from my parents I have looked forward to this day.
1 minute. I stare unblinking at my wrist.
10 seconds. I see faint black line slowly start fading in.
0 seconds. I read it. James Smith. I look to my other wrist. James Smith. Eight billion people and I get the most common name in America! My name is Mila Sallow. No doubt my soul mate will find me. All I can do is wait. I know that when you meet your soulmate or enemy their name fades, I will know it’s them.
After about a day I get a message on Instagram. From James Smith. I jump to my phone and text back frantically. He lives only a city over. We decide to meet at Needle Point Hill. In an hour I get dressed and I’m waiting at the bench overlooking my city. I hear a voice from behind me.
“Mila?”
I turn around and tackle him into a hug. I bury my face into his chest unable to control my smile or tears. After a minute I release him. I brush my now blank right hand with my left hand. Something catches my eye, or a lack of something rather. I slowly turn over my left hand. My wrist is clear. I collapse to the ground. How can it be the same person? I thought it was just two people with the same name. James kneels down.
“What’s wrong?”
Tears cover my face I show him my wrist.
“You met your enemy before me? That’s okay!”
“No. No. No.”
I’m a mess. He looks at my wrists for another second. His once cheerful voice falls.
“Oh. Oh wow. Is that even possible?”
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I’m your soulmate. I’ve just made your life so much harder.”
He cups my face in his hand,
“It’s fine, it will all be okay. You’re not my enemy, and even if I’m yours I am still your soulmate. I will take care of you, I think you are great and I’m so happy we match.”
I sniffled.
“Really?”
“Yes. I will always be here for you, despite what ever your wrist says.”
“Thanks... I really appreciate it.”
He helps me up, and I look at my left wrist. It’s turned pitch black. I don’t know what it means but I think it’s going to be ok. I’ve got James. | Felicity never cared about what names would show up on her wrist on her sixteenth birthday. Everyone else was always excited for the Revelation. Would their crush be on their right wrist? Would that witch Sally from English class be on their left? The possibilities were endless!
But Felicity grew up watching what a soulmate can really do. She watched as her father was abusive to her mother and siblings. She felt the sting of his hand across her face and the pressure of his fingers around her throat.
She knew her mother's story. At Melissa's Revelation she was so excited to see the name Skylar etch itself into her right wrist. *What a wonderful name* she thought. It was something beautiful and airy. She couldn't wait to meet them. Ten years later she met Felicity's father. He went by Skylar, his middle name. Melissa wouldn't learn this until four months later at their wedding where she learned his first name was Fredrick. She couldn't believe it. Fredrick was the name on her left wrist. Felicity believes that at that point her mother should have ran as far away from that terrible man as she possibly could, but she didnt. Melissa stayed, and has regretted that decision everyday.
It didnt take long for Fredrick Skylar to get violent, but it was already too late for Melissa to leave. Felicity was a honeymoon baby. The unhappy couple ended up having five kids in total before finally taking responsibility for their reproduction. The damage was already done, though. The older kids grew up trying to protect their younger siblings, Felicity getting the brunt of most of her father's punishments. So, no, she wasn't excited to learn her fate.
She had also watched good come out of the idea of soulmates, though. She watched her friends in school live happy, healthy lives with parents who truly loved each other. Felicity envied them, but she never allowed herself to wish for something so impossible. She knew better than to hope for a happy ending.
So when her sixteenth birthday came along and her friends threw her a surprise countdown party for her Revelation, Felicity put on the best fake smile she could.
3...She could see the excitement on everyone's face.
2...Her mom was looking at her with hope in her eyes. A plea that her eldest daughter can have something more than she ever did.
1...Fear engulfed Felicity. She wasnt ready. She had hope. Why did she have hope!? Why was she afraid of being let down!?!?
0...The slight burning sensation in her wrist made the fear swell even more. There was no point in worrying now, it was already too late. Yet when she looked down at her wrists, her heart skipped a beat.
First, she looked at her left wrist. Was it Sally? Felicity bet it was Sally. It wasnt Sally. There on her wrist, in bold, red letters, was scrawled the name Felicity. She wasn't ready for that.
Her gaze quickly moved on to her right wrist. Felicity. Again, her wrist said Felicity. | 2020-01-18T23:16:31 | 2020-01-18T23:12:39 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Create a story where the characters live in a world where something is fundementally different with reality and leave the reader to guess what it is. For example: entropy is reversed, gravity goes sideways, all people can read minds, etc. | I walked into the living room and plopped my hiking backpack onto the table, it made a solid and satisfying FTHINK as the buckles and zippers hit the glass. The sound startled Kate for a moment, she hadn't seen me come in. She looked at the backpack quizzically, and then at me.
"I have a cold." was all I had to say to offer any explanation. She shrugged and then said,
"Alright, you should keep that on you though. Just in case one catches you by surprise. You wouldn't want to end up some place bad and not be prepared. Do you have your passport and your meds?"
I nodded.
"And Dayquil?" She asked.
"Yep."
"Did you download that foreign exchange rate app I showed you?" She asked. I nodded again. I resolved myself the last time I got sick to prepare myself more for places that don't use American dollars. I ended up in Bali last time. Wonderful vacation spot when you can plan it, terrible for unintended arrival.
"I think I'm as prepared as I can be." I said resolutely.
"Alright, go ahead and pop a squat then. There's an episode of Shark Tank recorded."
I picked up the pack by the strap and slung it over my shoulder. I buckled the waist and chest straps and then slumped myself down onto the couch next to my loving wife. I sniffled and waited patiently. | “Have you ever done it?”
“Oh, yea... of course, like tons of times…”
“Will it hurt? I’ve always heard it will hurt.”
“No way! They only tell you that bullshit to scare you. If it were true how would we all be here?”
“But still…”
“Listen, Mary, if you don’t want to do this we don’t have to. You’re the one who brought me here anyways”
“I know. I thought I was ready, but all that’s going through my head is everything we’ve learned”
Silence fell over them and a few moments passed.
“Brock?”
“Yea”
“What if everyone is right?”
“Then we’ll at least know what it’s like for the few moments we can… Isn’t that worth it?”
“It is, but…”
“Give me your hand”
As their gazes entwined they pressed hands.
“I love you”
“I love you too”
| 2016-02-18T13:47:09 | 2016-02-18T13:47:04 | 47 | 17 |
[WP] In this world, soulmates cannot hurt each other in any way or form, intentionally or unintentionally. You are an assassin hired to eliminate a powerful figure. As you close in for the kill, your bullets miss their mark and knives bounce of their skin. Things just got awkward. | I have the easiest job you can imagine. I get paid monthly for a hundred years, so I never have to think about saving money. All I had to do was push a button once. Oh, and if I quit I'm as good as dead. But I guess that's still better than the average employment contract.
This left me with a lot of spare time, some of which I spent looking for my soul mate. It is customary for searchers to prod each other with needles, as legend has it that soul mates are not able to harm each other. At the time I found it a bit silly, but it served as a good ice breaker.
I never actually met my employer. One day some masked gentlemen visited me to inform me that I was now part of a deal. They left me with a cardboard box containing a bottle about two meters tall and one meter wide and a stack of papers.
The bottle was to be deposited in my basement and attached to some kind of pump for which there was a very detailed shopping list with stores and aisle numbers for every part. I purchased each part on a different day. After assembling the contraption and letting it run for a few weeks I shut down the pump. Now I just had to wait until it was time to press the ignition.
In the first year or so I kept wondering why they chose me. Surely there was no lack of people able to follow simple instructions. What bothered me is that they could have chosen someone who never would have figured out what the bottle was for.
The problem with ICBMs is that they can be intercepted and, more importantly, it is easy to see where they were fired from. But they are a very nice topic to discuss with leaders of other countries. Especially if your country has more.
The explosives I had placed in the bottle would elevate pressure and temperature enough to fuse hydrogen. I had built an atomic bomb without moving radioactive material across borders. It was just too perfect. Whatever evidence there was would be wiped out by a tiny sun going nova. Along with me.
I decided to skip that part. When the day came, I was already on a flight to a holiday destination I had booked in advance. On arrival I saw my work unfold on television. It was beautiful.
The bottom of the screen read: "Nuclear disaster in Italy. Satellite image shows woman sleeping on molten rock."
My triumph faded. What was I supposed to say to her? "Sorry that I melted your family"? Actually, never mind that. Where would I hide from her? | "No, seriously, you *aren't* my type."
"Look, I agree with you, okay? You're definitely not what I, uhh, what I was expecting. But those are the rules, right? We're kinda stuck together now, aren't we?"
"No. No we're not. Let me tell you about the *rules* okay. The rules are so vague that it could be anything. 'Can't hurt them in any way or form'? It could be your employer is my soul mate. Or your weapons dealer. Or the guy who you're going to buy a tacky new jacket from with the money from this job, whose product can't be the motivation that leads to an assassin taking a job that successfully kills me. Or maybe any one of those people is *your* soul mate, and killing me would ruin your life, and they can't let you do that. Or maybe your soul mate--or any of theirs--is any one of the countless people whose lives would be made worse--significantly or marginally--by my death. I mean, fuck, even just the increase in crime statistics by a fraction of a percent lowering property values in this city by pennies is harm, and if your soul mate lives here that would harm them."
"I'm starting to see why someone wanted you dead."
"Yeah? Why's that?"
"Because you take all the romance out of the world."
"Well, my soul mate will appreciate it, because if she were bothered by it, I wouldn't be able to feel this way."
"Heeeey... Maybe that's it!"
"What?"
"Your big stupid mouth is what made someone want to kill you, right? But losing their potential soulmate would be some form of harm to *your* soul mate. So no matter what, you can never say anything bad enough to get yourself killed for it. Nobody can!"
"Ugh... Reality is giving me a headache again." | 2018-04-24T04:59:38 | 2018-04-24T00:04:50 | 82 | 18 |
[WP] internet goes down. An emergency public broadcast on the television plays "STAY INDOORS AND DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE." The radio simultaneously broadcasts the message "EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, GET TO HIGH GROUND." | I woke with a start, there was so much noise in the room I could barely comprehend what was going on.
My wife was stood over me shaking me by the shoulder shouting at me to wake up. "Wha..." I felt groggy, it was 4 in the morning and she expected me to jump out of bed. "What's going on?" She looked at me with that 'I will kill you if you dont do as I say' look. "Ok ok im getting up just tell me what's going on" she ignored me as she pulled a suitcase out from under the bed and began packing it. "Julie!" I shouted but it only seemed to aggravate her more.
"Listen to the radio!" She shouted as she threw some fresh underpants at my face. I didn't pick up on it before in my half asleep state but now I could hear it. The radio was playing the same message over and over with a polite but booming voice 'EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, GET TO HIGH GROUND' I squinted in confusion.
"What's going on?" I asked Julie.
"I don't know, the Internet is broken and that same message keeps repeating. I heard..." Julie looked at the window with remorse, the curtains were closed.
"Heard what Julie?" I looked at her with more confusion, what was she trying to say?
"I... I heard... I heard screams" she looked horrified.
"Screams? There are no screams what are you talking about?" She snapped a look at me, a look of despair.
"There used to be screams... now there are none" I looked at her with a dumbfounded look.
"Are you ok?" I asked her.
"Ill be fine" she said willing herself back to the real world.
I got out of bed and got dressed before helping Julie with the packing which didn't take long. I'm an ex-soldier after being assigned to several deployments into hostile war zones, which has given me the basic skills of survival. One of which is how to pack light and how to do it quickly.
"What's outside?" I asked Julie while walking to draw the curtains, she had looked at the window earlier as if scared by something.
"No don't!" I stopped just before drawing them. *don't?*
"What? Why not?" I looked at her confused once more.
"The... the tv... it said to not look outside" she was being crazy again.
"The tv?" I turned the bedroom tv on and all that showed on every single channel was a message reading
'STAY INDOORS AND DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE'
"What does that mean?" I asked myself while thinking what the hell was going on. The TV and radio said opposite things to each other.
"I don't know" Julie answered anyway "but don't look outside"
"Why not?" I asked her. The tv might say not to but what harm could there be in looking?
"There was knocking..." Julie stared off into space once more, how long had she been awake? "Knocking on the door, all the time just knocking, they wouldn't answer to me. They just knocked"
"Why didn't you answer?" I asked her.
"I saw the message on the tv that's when the knocking started, I was scared... scared to look what's out there"
"I'm going to look" Julie looked at me in the eyes with horror "it's fine, we're going to be going out there anyway if we need to get out here, even if the TV says not to. High ground seems the best place to be in most situations, trust me" Julie nodded at me knowing the experience I have with hostile war zones. I opened the curtain and looked in horror, I closed them and fell back onto the floor almost hitting my head on the bed frame. Julie ran over to me.
"Patrick! Are you ok? What was it? What did you see?" I looked at her with terror in my eyes.
____
[Part 2] (Https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5qf97d/wp_internet_goes_down_an_emergency_public/dcz89d9/) | WELL....WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?
....I don't know, Janet, I heard-
DO WE STAY IN OR GO OUT?
...I DON'T-
This is a joke right, Tim? Right?
...
RIGHT?
Shut UP! I'm trying to THINK!
How can we stay indoors and evacuate to high ground without looking outside?
...I....I....
Tim......say something....
This has to be a prank or something! Some kind of...
"STAY INDOORS AND DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE! WE REPEAT, STAY INDOORS..."
"EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, GET TO HIGH GROUND"
Who the HELL is sending this?...Tim, I'm freaking the FUCK out. This doesn't SOUND like a joke.
Okay, I'll look outside and see wh-
NO YOU FUCKING WON'T! NO WAY! The TV said DONT look outside. If we do ANYTHING we do it together. We STICK TOGETHER! Okay?....Tim?
You're right...go down together, in flames or glory.
Tim. This is NOT the time for your asshole theatrics. We could be fucking dying...
OR....we could be subject to a social experiment...or a hidden camera show...or Darrel is being a dick...or-
OR WE COULD BE ABOUT TO DIE!
Or we could be about to die...
You're an asshole, you know that right?
I know.
Good.
So, Jan, what do you think?
I think if you call me Jan again then you DEFINITELY won't be getting out alive.
Soz.
Fuck you... ...I think that you're right, nothing has happened yet...at all. For the minute we're safe.
But that could change...
It could.....
....what the fuck is going on?
I think I asked you that first...
Yeah...
"STAY INDOORS AND DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE"
"EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, GET TO HIGH GROUND, YOU DO NOT HAVE MUCH TIME"
Okay Jan....et, this is really freaking me out. I think we should stay in. If we die at least we won't see it coming. Whatever...IT is.
I....I was just thinking we should...leave.
Oh balls...
Well there's Carsons Hill like a quarter mile away, we could be up there in about 25 minutes.
We have to stay together. We have to choose.
Sooo.....flip a coin?
You're going to potentially let our lives hang in the balance of a coin toss?
......um.....yeah?
......
.....
Well, I can't think of anything else to do. It's been nice knowing yah, Janet.
Heads we leave, tails we stay....
WAIT!
What?!...wha-
Best of three or....
Fuck OFF, Tim. One coin toss. One decision. One outcome. One....really annoying boyfriend.
RIGHT......I have a silver dollar...I'll use that...HEADS IT IS! ....who was heads again?
THAT MEANS WE'RE LEAVING THE FUCKING HOUSE, TIMOTHY!
Yeah...that sounds....adventurous.
It does doesn't it?
Not really.
Grow a pair. Seriously.
Jan, whatever happens, know that I love you. Like, all of you.
I love you too, and don't ever call me Jan again.
.....
See Tim, there's nothing to be-
OH SHI-
--FIN-- | 2017-01-27T00:45:44 | 2017-01-26T22:44:53 | 107 | 25 |
[WP]We tried to invade Earth when it was first discovered. But the way humans wage war is terrifying... | Have you read the database?
They had this creature, you see, a protovolve of their own genome. Apparently they originally developed side-by-side. This protovolve was larger than they are. Hairy, territorial, immensely strong. On average, nearly three or four times their size. It could tear a human limb from limb, and once dominated the forested areas of their equatorial continent.
This massive creature is now extinct on their world. By rights it should be the ruling sentient creature on their planet. It was larger, faster, and stronger. But its weakness was that with adequate territory, food, and mating partners, it was happy. Content. It had no need to develop any further. So it was hunted, to death. The humans did not care that it was a hominid. It was once a threat to them, and they eliminated the threat, by destroying their fellow sapients. Humans do not respond well to threats. They even fight between themselves over *perceived* threats, with no provocation. They are *never* content, and that was our mistake.
A homophonic quirk of their language plays on this... fear, this threat response. At least, we speculate. They already had a word for *resistance fighters*, you see. We suspect it was based on their species' memory of the superior creatures they exterminated. They so named the soldiers who opposed us, who destroyed our weapon emplacements and... disappeared. Who hid among their populace and infiltrated our biofactories amongst the slaves, slaughtering our firsts and seconds, burning our hatcheries to ash. Who stole the crude mass-conversion weapons we had confiscated from them, and leveled *their own cities* to eliminate our landing ships, forcing our retreat. Their native word plagues us, haunting many officers to this day. Having rewritten our record of conquest, we now include the footnote for other species who dare attack them. While the translation is imperfect due to their confusing orthography, the sentiment is real.
Earth: avoid.
*Beware the gorillas.* | "I was one of the last soldiers to leave my ship when we went out inthe usual formation, but they refused to face us."
"So what did they do?" One of the kids listening asked.
"Well, it wasn't immediately clear that they noticed us, but as we approached the next city, it was called Kansas and for some reason had the word 'city' in the name, humans are terrible at naming, tons of places with the word 'new' in their names, there was a reaction. A human male asked us what we were doing, we told him our intentions and he just loughed."
"Why did he lough?"
"He told us we looked like we weren't going to take out anything. Then he drove off. As we moved intothe city boundrys, several men stood their. Oneof them started shouting through some voice enhancing devise. He wanted to talk to our leader. He offered peace, saying that all governments of this world had agreed to peace and offered trade with us and that they would give us space ports in cirtain areas, we of course refused, thinking they were afraid to be beaten."
"When did you see their style of warfare?"
"I didn't, that was the hole point. After a while, some of them were seen in the streets making light and noise signals, and somehow we fell, at least ten at a time, no sword, no spear, no axe was seen. We fled back to the ship. Five of our hopplites had survived there were similar reports from all over the planet, though in some cases our hopplites were desintegrated."
| 2017-10-17T21:05:33 | 2017-10-17T11:41:18 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | I forget. Well, I make everyone forget. That’s my power, but you probably won’t recall this in approximately 1 minute.
It’s a curse. I watched as my other friends develop wondrous abilities during puberty- flight, invulnerability, elemental control, while I was bestowed with the power of forgetting. Maybe it was because I forgot to feed the family dog when my parents left for their trip and found him dead on their return. Or maybe I should have at least tried to remind myself a time or two again.
Oh well.
Ever since I turned 18, I ceased to exist. My own parents had no recollection of ever having a son. I watched as they replaced family portraits, puzzled as to who that mysterious boy was in all of the photos. I hated them at first, but soon I came to realise that I could not possibly blame them, I was but a void in their memory. My friends followed suit, deserting me.
I lived my days an inch away from insanity, conversations never lasted for more than a minute before the other person would be in a state of bewilderment, asking who I was. I was close to a figment of imagination to them.
I don’t recall when but I guess I snapped one day. I loaded up a gun, went out, and shot the first person that walked by me. Everyone screamed, or was it just a few people screaming? Never mind, it’s irrelevant. What was relevant was that after a minute, people stopped screaming, then started screaming again. I stood there till the police showed up, but no one remembered who killed that poor bastard. So I walked away, scot free and into a life of death and destruction. It didn’t take long before governments collapsed beneath me and mankind bowed to a god they forgot existed.
My name is Amnesia, and I’m the worlds greatest supervillain, but you probably won’t recall this in approximately 1 minute. | 8/9/19
Dear diary
I really need someone to talk to, since no one likes me, they say I wasn't worthy of these powers. My powers are... They aren't constant. Sometimes, it's a protective barrier to save people, other times, it's being superior to others. Sometimes, it changes with my mood, other times, my thoughts There are times that I can't really tell anyone how I have access to literally every power in the known universe. Not because it's embarrassing, nor harmful to anyone, but I have been ridiculed before, laughed at, bullied for being special, and the outcome of those incidents weren't pretty. Those images still haunt me, and any chance I have in fitting back into society. I've learnt to keep this to myself, to never let anyone else know my strengths. I fear the day my full abilities are revealed. What would others say? Who would try to take advantage of these skills. Sometimes I just want to be alone, sometimes I want to vent my anger and hatred, sometimes, I just want to be a normal human.
The root of the problem is my personality, in other words, my personality disorder. The accursed existence that no one is willing to accept. Seems people still have the same mindset on people with disorders.
I'll be writing again soon, so expect me back, diary. | 2019-09-08T09:02:22 | 2019-09-08T08:42:34 | 4,320 | 112 |
[WP] all "walks into a bar" jokes happen in the same bar. you're the bartender. | "Hey, buddy! Our sign clearly says, 'No Horses Allowed,' And don't give me that long face, mister!"
Jacob scowled at the Clydesdale as it cantered out, neighing indignantly. He sighed heavily, turning to the sole remaining patron of his bar. "I don't get it, Sam. Why do these jokers keep turning up here?"
The grizzled lush looked up from his beer. "Whole neighborhood has gone to Hell, it has," he drawled. "Back when I was growing up, these roustabouts stayed on their own side. Pfft! Gone to Hell, it has."
"A beacon of wisdom as always, Sam. Are you going to have another or..."
The door creaked open and a heavyset man in full orthodox Jewish regalia stepped in. Jacob leered suspiciously, opened his mouth to speak and then decided against it. A priest in Catholic mass garments entered beside him, followed by a Muslim with a full white robe and thobe.
"Ah, fuck," Jacob spat. "No religious trios, guys! It says so right outside, underneath the horse sign!"
The Jew huffed, the priest bowed and the Muslim flipped him off, but they left without incident.
"Ay, why don't you just serve the damn fools?" Sam asked. "They're stealin' all our jobs anyway. May as well get a bit 'o the coin back, yeah?"
"Too much of a liability," Jacob replied. "Had a Panda come in about a month ago. Pulls out a gun and kills half of my regulars before hightailing it out. Looked up the fucker on Wikipedia; it was a Chinese Panda who eats shoots and leaves."
"Ah, damn shame," Sam said, shaking his head.
"Half of them aren't even good for the drinks, anyway. After the Panda and before I began enforcing the ban, I was getting a ton of Bohemians. Had to bounce half of those Czechs out."
Sam nodded. "I tell ya, mate, these characters..."
A tall, well-built man with chestnut hair, an olive complexion, and a thick overcoat walked in, surveying the scene with a quick glance. Jacob eyed him as the approached the bar.
"Evening, sir," Jacob said cautiously, alert for any impropriety. "Get ya something to drink?"
"Evening," the man said, nodding slightly and settling himself on a stool. "I'll just have a beer, please."
Jacob smiled, a visible relief washing over his face. He poured a pint of his best ale and handed it over. "This one's on the house, friend," he said. "Just glad to have another normal bloke around these parts."
"Thank you, sir," the man replied. "I'm surprised to see this place so empty on a Friday night. It's a lovely establishment."
"Ah yes. Well, we've had some troublesome clientele lately and...say, what do you have there?"
The man had pulled a large chunk of asphalt from under his coat, placing it on the counter. "Oh, I was just wondering if I could get another beer. For the road." |
"So a priest, a rabbi, and a horse walked into my bar last night," the bartender said to his friend.
"Ooh, I love these kinds of jokes," his buddy said, muting the football game, scooting to the edge of the couch excitedly.
"What joke? I was talking about work," replied the bartender. "They're regulars. Paul, Jacob, and Charlie. Charlie's the horse, but he doesn't like calling attention to it, he tends to get upset about it"
"Oh, my bad," apologized the friend. After a sullen pause, a smile quietly formed on his lips. "So did you ask Charlie the horse, 'Why the long face?' he said, stifling a chuckle.
"Well, no," the bartender said, slightly annoyed. "Why would I say something rude to one of my regular customers?"
"Geez dude, nevermind," said the friend. "Did he at least gallop in, say 'hey' and then you brought him a bale of hay?" asked the friend, trying to salvage the conversation, his eyes wandering to the game in the background.
"No, Charlie always gets a gin & tonic," replied the bartender, exasperatedly. "I don't know what crazy ideas you have about my job, but I'm just a typical ol' bartender. Sure, we get some pretty unusual clientele once in a while, but they don't cause a fuss. A couple times a week, we'll get a few ducks, seals, various religious figures, assorted wild animals. Once the entire team of the Harlem Globetrotters came in with the Pope and a trained bear."
"Oh, I guess that's kinda cool," said the friend, feigning interest, eyes fixed back on the game. "So you don't play along with all the jokey situations?"
"I mean, at the end of the day these people, animals, and giant robots come into my bar to relax and grab a drink. If they want a witty comment, I'll help out, no problem. When Steve comes in, I always say to him, 'Hey, we have a drink named after you!' cause I know it helps his game. Steve is a grasshopper, by the way. But most my customers just want to be left alone to do their own thing."
"Ok, I guess that makes sense," the friend replied, turning the sound back on, fully engrossed in the football game. "I just thought it'd be hilarious to work there or there'd be some awesome perks or something..."
"Well," the bartender replied, "we do get some pretty attractive nuns into the bar once in a while."
| 2016-09-18T19:15:12 | 2016-09-18T17:54:19 | 26 | 14 |
[WP] "Witch! Heathen! Burn her!" You watch with amusement as they begin lighting the pyre under you. The flames tickle your feet, bringing a familiar warmth with them. They are silly to that think they could actually burn a dragon with fire. | My grin sent a shiver down his spine. "I can do this all day."
The elvish inquisitor stood quietly aghast, unsure of how to address the mob around him. Only the fire crackling under my feet filled up the silence that weighed on everyone. They didn't know if they could trust me. Even if they didn't realize I was a dragon, they still knew I wasn't human like them. That was enough to put them on edge. The inquisitor drew his sword and proclaimed to them:
"I'll have to slay this creature with a more vicious approach. Your children and the faint of heart should turn away now."
"Stop!" shouted a young woman, on the verge of tears. "I'm telling you she saved us!" She pleaded at the villagers around her. "You all know it's the truth!"
The villagers stayed quiet.
"At the very least," said the young woman, "let's hear her out."
"I've had enough of this," moaned the inquisitor, winding up his sword.
"That won't work either" I muttered.
The inquisitor paused for a second mid-swing. "R-really?" He frowned. "Why am I even listening to you?"
"Fine; go ahead."
The inquisitor's blade shattered upon striking me. It scratched his cheek as it spun away.
"Told ya'."
The inquisitor touched his wound and widened his eyes when he saw his bloody fingers. "You dare strike me?"
"B-but I didn't..."
The inquisitor turned towards the villagers. "As an agent of the empire, if you all don't help me execute this creature, I'll report this place for harboring a monster!"
The villagers exchanged uncertain looks with each other.
"Don't listen to him," I said. "They're already losing the war. A place this far from a major city can't be protected for long."
"Y-you heretical-"
The villagers murmured among themselves.
"The truth is I protected this place from bandits when the empire neglected it. You don't get to make demands when I'm the one providing them with safety."
"Yeah!" added a few villagers.
"Then why did you hide your identity?" said the inquisitor. "Why fool these people if you weren't planning on exploiting them?"
"Honestly? I just want to be left alone. As a battlemage, I abandoned my nation after bringing senseless slaughter during the war. The humans are more than right to hate me. I'm a product of the very tyranny they oppose. Then again, the same also applies to you, and I very well may be the lesser of two evils here."
The villagers had already circled around the elvish inquisitor, wielding pitchforks and shovels. They made quick work of him and freed me from my bonds. I could've broken out of them but the gesture was nice. My deal with the mayor was simple. I'd live in the village as a human, protecting it from anyone attacking it. The upcoming power vacuum, once the war ended, would mean many new nations would try to assert their influence over this place. They needed me more than ever. It wouldn't be easy, but after years of wandering and being feared, I welcomed the opportunity to finally settle down in a stable place as myself.
------
>I feel like I'm late to this thread and nobody will see it lol If you enjoyed this, please consider checking out /r/WeirdEmoKidStories for more or read [Shotgun Fantasy](https://www.reddit.com/r/WeirdEmoKidStories/comments/exa1om/wp_the_humans_were_always_disregarded_due_to/) for a web serial set in this story's world. Thanks for reading! | Smoke fills the air around me, flames rippling off of my clothes. These ropes are tight against my wrists, and this pier is hard against my back. Below, the people of the city shout insults at me, their fists raised high to the air.
I am burning alive. I am not afraid.
Men are so quick to hate what they do not understand. That hatred was what killed my mother. I cannot remember her, cannot grieve her, but I can remember what her death did to my father. He, too, learned to hate, and from that hatred arose a blind, vicious anger. He slaughtered thousands: men, women, children. And so he became the tyrant from their stories, the monster they spoke of our kind being.
Before he died, I saw but one thing in his glazy, blood-stained eyes: regret.
That was the day I vowed to be different than him; better. I used my family's gift to transform into one of their kind, and followed the soldiers back to their city. I never planned to use my true form again. I would not hate the race of Men. I would forgive them.
I was a fool. For it is not just our kind that the humans hate; they hate even among themselves, or perhaps among themselves most of all. I have seen men who hate their wives and daughters, and raise their sons to be the same way. I faced discrimination throughout all my years living among humans, purely because I took a female form rather than a male one.
And it would have been so much worse, had I not chosen a form with light skin. I stand against this pier today because I used magic to save a dark-skinned woman's life. But I know that it was not the magic that drove them to kill me.
As the flames rise to my head, I realize that I can understand my father. I cannot condone him, and I will never be like him, but I can understand him. For I, too, am angry - but this anger will not blind me. In fact, It has opened my eyes.
From this day forward I will protect all those who the humans hate: beast or fellow man. I will not be indiscriminate like my father, wiping out entire towns. I will bring harm only to those who bring harm to others, and in doing so, no matter how many humans try to call me a tyrant, there will always be those among them who see me for who I really am: a guardian.
The flames do not, cannot burn me. Among the many things about my race that humans are unaware of, our immunity to fire is perhaps the most prominent. As I begin to transform, I almost feel as if my body absorbs the flames around me, as if they become a part of my soul.
I grow larger, looming over the increasingly scared cityfolk. My skin breaks out in scales. My neck lengthens. My teeth become fangs, my ears become horns.
In the final stages of my transformation, I look towards the sky and - for the first time in a very, very long time - unleash a legion of flame towards the heavens in a liberating roar.
Fire cannot burn a dragon. But it can make one stronger.
I spread my wings and take to the skies. | 2021-01-03T07:17:44 | 2021-01-03T07:06:34 | 72 | 39 |
[WP] An ancient god "cursed" you with immortality, expecting you to watch the Sun swallow the Earth. When that day comes 7.6 billion years into the future, you're living large on the other side of the galaxy. | The night always brought back memories of my time in Earth. Here iridescent galaxies stretched through the sky, clear as the oceans; stars burned with insurmountable brilliancy, adorning the black fabric of the universe by the millions, and the colorful moonlight showered the field of roses around me.
It was breathtaking, beautiful, an ineffable sight, and yet, my mind always drifted back to polluted skies, deafening noises, and unbearable smells.
I didn't miss Earth. Planets were no more than ground for my feet to stand on. It was the people that I missed. The ghosts of their voices echoed incessantly in the hollow of my heart, calling me, pleading for me to hear them, and for all that I tried, I couldn't ignore them. They were quieter than whispers, yet they rumbled louder than thunder, and every time I heard them, memories of the day we left Earth often came back to haunt me, but they never came with the brightness of the many smiles, nor the pleasant sound of laughter. No, they always brought the cursed image of the spaceship shattering, and the terrible sounds of a thousand screams drowning down the eternity of the universe.
Millions if not billions of years I drifted in that dark ocean of beautiful nothingness, losing myself in the never-ending marvels floating in its currents to maintain my sanity.
But now my feet were on solid ground, the sweet scents of the flowers bathed me, the silence was deep and perfect, and the sky was full of jewels. And yet I wished nothing but to go back to that chaos I lived in so many years ago.
Perhaps, someday the universe would come to an end, and perhaps, in its last breath, I would fade away too.
The ancient god had been right.
Immortality was a curse. Solitude its torture.
----------------------
r/NoahElowyn
| I haven’t seen him since that day, when he placed his “curse” on me, but still one day I hope to. Ya sleep with one of his 400 daughters and it’s “curse this” “curse that” and most importantly “curse you!” Honestly I think he overreacted a bit there, but I’ve given up trying to think through his old-god logic. He told me I would live to see earth crumble and fall and get devoured by our dying sun. Everything I’ve ever loved would pass on and I would be left alone in the universe. Well the day has come when I will stand and watch my home world die. But honestly what did it ever do for me? Getting off that rock was the smartest decision I ever made. I mean look at me! My suit is so shiny it rivals that old worthless sun, this drink is more alcoholic than anything humans ever made, I’ve had at least 30 wives and a few husbands, I mean my watch is made of the finest crystals in the universe! Nothing from this lousy dump could ever match this! So thank you all for coming out here tonight, for my planet’s death day celebration and cheers to that bitter old god. I sure showed him!
*cheers and applause*
*ding* Please remain at least one foot away from the radiation glass at all times. It will get extremely hot.
“Now let’s watch this fucker die!” | 2019-02-09T15:27:04 | 2019-02-09T14:51:53 | 148 | 77 |
[WP] You live in a village in the dessert. One day it is raided by terrorists and all village members are killed, except for you. You lost most of your memories and now wander through the dessert, thinking you are the last of your species.
Second time posting this, yay... fucking tags mate *cough* Well anyways, i didnt go into a lot of detail in the title, because i wanted to keep it as short as possible. So, a lot is kept to your imagination. How much and what do you remember ? Will you die in the dessert ? Why do you think you are the last of your species ? Will you find other of your species ? etc,etc... Really, so much to write.
So i come back and i see this...1063 likes WTF! This was my first prompt ever, im still amazed. I want to thank everyone that submitted a story and all the people that still will :D | Time is passing - it must be near noon. I still remember vividly the smell, the strong sweet smell of burning sugar everywhere.
It was the torch that changed this land. It used to be a soft sea of soft peachy crème in an ever changing configuration of dunes, with our people happily swimming and living in it. The land gave us everything we needed: lair, joy and sustenance. Our hunger satisfied with sporadic bites, here and there, of sweet sugary substance.
Then the torch came and reshaped our world to a ruthless wasteland. It burnt - how it burned! A flickering blue demon, hardening the peachy dunes to glassy crust, transforming everything in browned blotches with minute spots here and there - my fallen brethren carbonized into oblivion.
As I walk these vast plains, hunger now controls my mind. I have lost count of the many times I've traveled between the arching porcelain walls that surround it. I cannot climb them, there is no foothold. They stand there, impervious, mocking my helplessness.
Too long I've stumbled here. I repeatedly pound and stomp this land unsuccessfully, longing for a minute drop of its sweetness. I feel it; it is there, underneath this tough sugary barrier, a few millimeters down. So near, so far.
The light has suddenly darkened. An elliptical shape hides the sun. At last, redemption of my suffering has arrived. It has the shape of a metallic elliptic monster, cracking the surface in arching blows. The repeated, syncopation harmony of destruction. My time has come.
I can smell the crème floating again, seeping through the cracks. I reach it and bathe again into it's richness and warmth. The monster is now on top of me. Just one more swing and everything's over.
**Edit**: my first Reddit gold! thanks a lot to all readers. Been lurking for a while on /r/writingprompts, and even though English is not my first language, it has given me courage to post more attempts. Thanks again! | I remember the soldiers.
I struggle to recall much else, but I remember the soldiers. I remember the way they clicked their tongues in some insidious, yet deafening language. I remember the way the sun glinted off their armour, black and shiny and impenetrable. I remember the stomping of far, far too many feet, and I remember the terrified yells of my friends and family as they were swiftly murdered and carried away. One by one, on and on, to and fro the soldiers marched and... and...
I hold onto this memory. It hurts, but it is important. If I forget, then who will tell our tale? If I ever find somebody to tell it to, that is. I've been moving for days, over the endless white sugary dunes. I haven't met a single soul who speaks my language this whole time. I'm reciting my own story just to keep it alive. Just in case. I must. I must.
"Soldiers. I remember the soldiers. I struggle to recall much else, but I remember the soldiers. Soldiers." Soldiers. Soldiers. Soldiers. Soldiers. The word ticks with the beat of the clock. Soldiers. Soldiers. Soldiers. "Clicks. Black. Feet. Soldiers." The heat of the sun threatens to flatten me as I despair at the feebleness of my own words.
Soldiers. Soldiers. They did this, the soldiers. Name. They need a shorter name. Need to remember my story, but also need my breath.
Ants. Ants will do. | 2014-12-17T00:31:27 | 2014-12-16T23:16:10 | 369 | 119 |
[WP] A necromancer discovers that spells to animate dead bodies also work on other things that have been described as "dead," such as batteries, cars, appliances, friendships, and romances.
Edit:
I did not expect this!
Thank you all, and thank you for the gold! | The single beam of light filtered through the window, catching the edge of the crystal and dispersing through the small room. An eager hand reached out, but I caught his hand in mine.
“Wait—you know there’s a price for magic like this” I said, pushing his hand away from the crystal.
“I don’t care. I’ll pay it.” he said, fire burning in his eyes.
“To bring someone back requires great sacrifice. A life for a life; a soul for a soul. Are you willing to do this?”
He looked up at me, tears brimming in his eyes. “I have to do this.”
I nodded and released his hand. He snatched the crystal from the table, clutching the white, jagged edges with fervor. I muttered the incantation, and he collapsed on the floor. My eyes drooped, and the magic hit me like a wave, pressing me back into my chair. Memories filtered through my vision—
*He walked through the street, clutching his daughter’s hand. She looked up at him, grinning. “Do you think momma will like him?”*
*“I hope so, sweetie.” He said, and his gaze turned to the small puppy rolling amicably in front of them.*
The dog yapped with delight, but the memory shifted. The vision turned black. The only sound was the gentle yaps of the dog; they turned to deep barks and growls. Smoke swirled in my mind, and color rushed back into the vision.
*A man stood in the kitchen, clutching a bloody knife. The dog, fully grown, growled and barked menacingly. The daughter, much older now, screamed; her mother lay dead on the floor.*
The vision faded once more. The growls of the dog turned to pained whimpers, then silence. The memory flashed in my mind, I watched from the eyes of the father.
*The daughter stood silently, rain pouring around her. The tomb was open, the elderly dog rested inside. Slowly, the girl scooped handfuls of wet dirt, her tears lost in the rain.*
The vision faded, but not to silence. I heard a gentle barking. Smoke swirled around my eyes, and the memory charged through me.
*He sat with his daughter, both held a cup of warm coffee. Outside the small tavern, dogs barked and ran through the street. He looked at her and could only see the husk of a woman once filled with joy. He sipped his coffee and help his composure, but inside he was screaming. His daughter needed help, and he was failing as a father.*
*“You can’t do this to yourself, honey,” he said. “I moved on—I had to. I know it hurts. It hurts me every day, but that’s life. We hurt; we move on and become stronger through our troubles.”*
*“How can I?” She said, casting a blank stare towards her coffee, “How can you say that to me?” she said. In another time she would have been filled with rage; but now? Only emptiness.*
With a final gasp, and a wisp of smoke, I snapped back to reality. I lay in my chair. The man in front of me was passed out on the floor, holding the smoking crystal. He slowly rose and looked at me. His expression had changed. There were bags around his eyes, his face had lost its flush color, and he spoke softly. “Did it work? Is my daughter healed?”
“Yes, it worked.” I said quietly. He didn’t know I saw the memories, and I didn’t tell him.
“That’s good—thank you.” He said, his voice monotone and emotionless.
He set the crystal back on my desk, into the soft beam of light. I looked up into his eyes—the fire was gone. The fire in his daughter’s heart had died, but he lit it again, at the price of his own.
***
r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | It’s rather trivial really. Simply reordering a few words in the incantation. And the sacrifices are often different. By far the most difficult to reanimate/revive is a human being, followed by an animal, and then everything afterwords is rather simple. Normally.
By trade I’m a necromancer. Yes, you read right. I toil my nights away studying ancient tomes of dark magic, and experiment with the very nature of life itself! On occasion I dabble in mechanics and relationships, but my *passion* is raising the dead, honestly. However, you’d be surprised how many people don’t exactly like that part of my profession. Oh sure, bring back my child hood animal good as new (even better because it’s deathless until you unlock the spell) but heaven forbid I bring back your high school flame or one of the great minds of a generation. Then I’m “playing god” and my talents are now “evil power” and my creations are “abominations.” But in this economy, a mage can’t be too picky I suppose.
My clientele as of late has been rather out of character for my services. You learn a one size fits all spell and now you’re a one trick pony. They want me to reignite their passion and love, I tell them to see the witch at the apothecary. She knows more about love and that sort than I do, and she has herbs and ingredients for various...romantic purposes. But no they want me to just do my thing and summon up old feelings of love. They always have to come back though, so at this point I wonder if they’re just not compatible.
I even get mechanical work, strange as it sounds. I tell them just go see a technomancer friend of mine, tell them he’s way more versed in this new school of magic. But apparently he’s just as pricey as a mechanic, so they bring their cars to me and I spill sacrificial blood on the motor and everything under the hood. Give a little incantation, smear some runes in blood under the hood, and voila, your car lives and roars. But lately I’m considering stopping my services. Not just for my friends business, but also because I’ve been getting reports of cars acting on their own. People in this city drive crazy enough, we don’t need sentient cars.
Strangely enough, the same thing happens with anything not made of flesh and tissue. I make haunted appliances, it would seem. Blenders that hop around on the counter, toasters that regurgitate not toast but mangled, soggy bread. Televisions that give you us glimpse into the underworld, phones that let you speak to the dead (no you cannot chose who you speak to, it’s random so I’m not taking any orders for spooky phones) and even alarm clocks that sound off with howls and moans of lost souls. Which is what I wake up to anyway but to the uninitiated it’s enough to bring a person to madness.
Look, I’ll be blunt- I just really want a job raising something dead. Bring me a pet rat! Bring me a gold fish and I’ll have that thing back and swimming in no time. Literally anything with blood and flesh and tissue. I *can’t* listen to another couple discuss their issues, and I’m done with appliances. If business doesn’t pick up I have to go back into research at the institute, and I sincerely don’t want to teach Intro to Life Magic just so I can use the facilities. So if you need a dead body brought back-no questions asked-just come by! | 2018-11-26T23:02:06 | 2018-11-26T22:14:10 | 423 | 140 |
[WP] One day you wake up and discover that you have gained X-Ray Vision. Being a good guy you decide not to use it as it only works on clothing. But after some disgusted stares and comments you realize everyone around you can see through your clothes as long as you're not using your Power. | Day 69. Another fat grandma has been burned into my memory. All because I don't want to be an outcast, I have to suffer seeing every other body. There are so many beautiful people locally, but I only remember all the ones I don't want to remember.
I can't even make some time for myself at all anymore, I can't put an image in my head to do it to, without an elderly man with the floppiest.. everything, appearing in my mind instead of the 20-40 pretty, fit young ladies I'd love to spend time with.
If only, when I didn't use my power, the power wasn't given to everyone else toward me. But instead, I have to choose between having haunting imagery stuck in my brain, or being called a slut and getting arrested. And I'd rather the former. It's easier for my reputation, but harder on my emotions.
Whoever gave me this gift, please take it away. Or offer me something extra that can help me. Like the ability to make everyone more youthful, so I don't feel trapped in my subconscious full of saggy old fat people. | I have eyes of pure gold
Strange and silver
It shoots out x-rays
Left, right, and center
Because of it am I tired
To the point of exhaustion
For if I am not using my power
It reverses the condition
I am not a pervert
But everyone assumes I am
Because of my power
I am either a stalker
Or a streaker from Guam
Now here I am
On the coast of Elba
Like Napoleon long ago
Being splashed at by mermaids
Who are thinking the exact same thing
Fuck my life | 2018-10-19T07:22:09 | 2018-10-19T06:43:25 | 100 | 24 |
[WP] In the world you grew up in, telepaths are an accepted reality, but are not common. A friend of yours introduces you to a cousin,who is a telepath. Having been intrigued all your life, you ask if they will do a scan on you. Moments after connecting, they recoil in terror asking, "what are you?" | Well that wasn’t good. I thought to myself. Telepaths weren’t supposed to be able to read me.
“What do you mean telepaths weren’t supposed to be able to read you?” Annie, Seans cousin demanded. Inching farther away.
“I don’t know what you’re taking about.” I said quickly. I wasn’t prepared for this. Normally my mental walls prevented even the strongest telepath from getting in. I’d never met one who’d breached my defenses so easily.
“So Annie. Did you do a reading?” Sean asked, then immediately noticed Annie’s discomfort. “Annie. Are you alright?”
“She isn’t human!” Her voice was like a scream but faint as a whisper.
I laughed it off. “You must have drank too much Annie. There’s not even supposed to be alcohol at this party.”
“Annie’s never wrong.” Sean said, now looking at me suspiciously.
I groaned mentally. So much for blending in. If this got around, there goes my chances of safety. More of my thoughts must have hit Annie, as her face bleached white.
Kill her. The voice whispered in my head.
Annie screamed, “Shes going to kill us all!”
That was not helpful! I told the voice in my head. We were drawing a crowd now, boxed in by hot sweaty bodies smelling faintly of alcohol.
“Whats going on?” Someone asked.
“I read her! She’s not human! She’s going to kill us all. I could see the death in her mind.” Annie, if possible, went paler. “She’s killed before.”
I tried to back away, but the crowd had forced me into the corner, started muttering around me.
“Someone call the cops.”
“Is this true?” Sean asked me. “I trusted you. My family trusted you. We should have listened to the people at the foster home. They said you were trouble.”
“She’s getting ready to lie. Or start killing. I can’t tell.” Annie said.
“Are you going to explain yourself?” Sean asked, his voice was devastated, breaking at the betrayal. Lights started flashing in the distance. Someone had called the cops.
I couldn’t go to jail, not now, I’d be no used to Sean tomorrow, so I did the only thing I could think of. “Everyone get down or I’ll start shooting.” And drew the stolen gun I’d hidden at the small of my back, aiming it directly at Annie. | I nervously chuckle as I grab his shoulder and lightly pull him into an adjacent room, the look of fear still plastered on his face. The broom closet seems to darken as an eerie, tainted light sparks in my eyes. After a few minutes of silence I explain "I am... different", my voice warping as I speak "But no one needs to know that".
The telepath gulps and manages to stammer "s-sure man, whatever you say".
"What was that all about?" My friend Jackson asks as we enter back into the main lobby of the hotel we were staying at. "Oh nothing, just discussing a personal issue" I explain. "Your'e lying" said a voice from across the counter. I whirled around to see the bellhop clutching a rosary in one quivering hand. I glanced over to the surfer dude cousin cousin who was now nowhere to be seen. "Damn telepaths, always a bloody nuisance".
I thrust out one now blackening hand and a spear of bone rose from the earth towards the bellhop, but it was too late, he had just finished muttering the final words of that one prayer that always ruins my plans.
"Well hellooooo, old friend" said a very enthusiastic silver garbed moron who was holding the tip of my spear a few inches from the mortals face. "Gabriel." I said through gritted teeth, "I'm happy to see you too fallen one. I have a little surprise that I've been cooking up ever since your most recent escape, you've bent the bars and broken each and every brick that we put up to keep you in Hell, this time I guarantee it will be the last time I have too bind you. Now goodbye Lucifer".
I felt the disturbingly familiar feeling of the ground opening beneath my feet, and dropped into the void with only enough time left in the land of the living to see my younger brother doing his usual routine of wiping the minds of the witnesses. It's to bad that he gives them such a pesky thing like telepathy as a side effect. | 2020-08-13T16:23:29 | 2020-08-13T15:58:38 | 45 | 29 |
[wp] Make a character with as much sympathy as possible. Now, in a realistic and non-over the top manner, make me lose all sympathy for them. | My hands shake as the brush strikes the paper. A thin layer of red fills the petals of my rose. Too dark. I must’ve pressed too hard. I take a small breath to calm my nerves. It wasn’t that my hands shake every time I paint, it’s just that in ten minutes’ time, I would finally be able to give my country, my people, my family, everything that I am.
Would I succeed? Only God can see so far forward. All man can do is to keep pushing, one step in front of the other. And even then, failure is all but certain. In the eyes of the world, a man can only do so much.
That was a lesson I had spent half my life learning. When my father first heard that I wanted to go to university for art, he scoffed at my decision. It wasn’t the uncertainty or the money, but me. I had no talent for it, he told me. My paintings looked like the tissues in the toilet after he had wiped his ass. He would not fund my stupidity.
But so be it. Painting was my calling and nobody had to tell me just how little talent I had, I knew. My nights were spent dissecting colors in my head. My mornings I dedicated to brushstrokes and technique. The afternoons I would study the greatest of the great, the Michelangelos and Van Goghs. Because life was not in the cards I drew, but the cards I played.
So I worked for two years, tirelessly, saving every penny, eating only bread and stew. I sold watercolours out of my parents’ store. I studied, painted, threw away, and studied some more until finally, I was ready. I applied to university.
The day the letter came, my hands shook so much I had to ask my father to open it for me. He did so and I swallowed as I met his eyes. Have I proven him wrong? He laughed. He threw his head back and let loose a rumbling guffaw that shook his very core. And mine.
I had been rejected. They said that I just didn’t have the talent.
It took me weeks to recover from that. My nights were no longer spent in study, they were spent at the pubs. The mornings I gave to my hangover and the afternoons to beg for more money. And that was when my father sat me down, a picture of the Vienna skyline in his lap and said these words: “son, I’d like to purchase this painting from you.”
I dug my nails into my palms. I swallowed my breaths. I ground my teeth to dust. But none of it mattered. The cry welled up in my chest and exploded out my mouth as a torrent of tears rained into my lap.
“Thank you, father.” I told him.
One year later, eating this time only bread, I had made up my savings that I had wasted with alcohol. I applied once more. This time, when the application came, my father stood at my side, his hands crossed, face grim, as he watched me open the letter.
“The candidate has an unfitness for painting,” I read and choked. Because I had known, I had always known. My father was right, the university was right, my first instinct was right. I just had no talent.
Then, my father said the words I would never forget. “Son, you were not meant for such trivialities. Your path is greater. So make your way and change our world.”
And so I found a new calling. I found it in the despair of a country ravaged by war and its people bullied by the powerful. I would save my country and everyone within it.
I stand up and stare at my imperfect rose and my crooked lilies beside it. One day, men will buy my paintings not because they are great, but because I am. A knock on the door. My time is up.
“My fuhrer,” he says. “The people are waiting.”
I nod. The world would soon learn my name.
---
---
/r/jraywang
| His phone buzzed. He looked at the time, the mall behind him, the time, and then his left pocket. His phone buzzed. His fingers clung to it, as he slid past the password protection.
Adrien 11:54 am
Look. I know it blows, but I can't be there. I get how bad this sounds, I know the others couldn't come either, but stuff comes up and I can't get out of it. Sorry.
Typical, naturally you'd leave it to Adrien to mess up plans. He shook his head, typing furiously.
Me 11:54 am Are you kidding me? We've had these plans for weeks, and you're just not going to show up? And you're telling me this five minutes before?
Me 11:54 am What's "So important" to have you flake out. Seriously.
Adrien 11:55 am I understand that you're upset, but it's a school day. Not to mention I'd get murdered by my parents. The only reason I'm texting you now is that it's a passing period.
Me 11:55 am School? Are you serious?
Me 11:55 am FUCK SCHOOL. And fuck you if you think leaving me in the dust like this is okay.
Adrien 11:55 am I'm telling you, my parents would kill me!
He looked behind him. For a Friday afternoon, the mall was pretty busy. Nobody would even see him nor Adrien, their parents wouldn't care if they skipped school, not really at least.
Me 11:56 am Why didn't you voice these oh so important claims earlier then? What do you want? To graduate? Live your life by the rulebook with a perfect record? *That's not living.*
Adrien 11:56 am That's sure as hell still living. It's not my fault Chris and Mia are sane as well.
Me 11:56 am Chris and Mia? You're bringing those assholes into this? Hey at least they abandoned me with more than five minutes notice.
Adrien 11:57 am There weren't any real plans.
Me 11:57 am I made plans. We. Made. Plans. We all worked together and i thought at least you'd come. It's the end of the school year, don't you want to?
Adrien 11:57 am Of course I want to. Why else would I say I'd come with you? But life happens. Not everyone hates school so much they drop out to go eat corn dogs at the mall everyday instead of doing algebra.
Adrien 11:58 am Some of us want lives. Some of us have lives.
Me 11:58 am You know it wasn't the school.
Adrien 11:58 am Yeah yeah, it was the people etc etc. You've gone over this a hundred times. Anyways, my point remains that you're on your own there, and I'm sorry. Have a fucking corn dog for me.
He shook his head, starting to bury his phone back into the left pocket of his jeans. His phone buzzed.
Adrien 11:59 am I figure you'll be going soon, nearly noon. Have fun, if that's what you call it.
He put it back in his pocket, and stepped into the still crowded mall. Awful shame Adrien couldn't be there but they were right. Life does seem to happen. Irritating enough, it does.
He walked into the center of the mall.
He cocked the shotgun. | 2017-04-24T10:52:35 | 2017-04-24T10:02:40 | 239 | 16 |
[WP] "Do you sell time?" | The open sign on the door rattled when it swung. It was early, the sun still peeking over the fresh wind of the new day; the cars grumbling to life as loudly as the owners that sat lazy inside them. The 2004 Subaru Outback parked out front was a welcome change to Gary. The midsummer vacation mom and her six year old daughter even more of one. Gary watched them as they exited the car, briskly approaching the store.
It was a convenience store, right off the highway, filled to the brim with items that hadn't moved since the day it came in. Over the counter medications neatly stacked side by side, assorted candies covered in a thin layer of dust, and rows of sodas snug behind closed doors cool to the touch. To Gary, these two were a welcome sight. Most people hurried in, either in a rush to get to the hospital a block east or generally just too busy with their perceived importance to linger. But these two were different. As they entered, their feet clicked calmly on the tile below, slowly, but surely. As if they had all the time in the world.
"You can get *one* snack. And then we've got to get back," directed the mother in a tired voice as she flipped through old magazines.
"How're ya," Gary greeted. She glanced up and smiled. There was nothing behind it. Hollowness, as if she were wearing a mask, genuineness lost beneath an emotionless surface. They weren't waiting for someone.
"Mom, I don't know what to get!" The girl said, furrowing her brow at the foray of brown packaged chocolates in front of her.
"Just pick one honey, you know we don't have time for this. We've got to go see Daddy soon." answered the mother, eyes still stuck to the magazine. Gary noticed, however, that she wasn't reading it. She hadn't been. Only staring, the glossy pages screaming a reflection back at her.
A minute later, the girl approached, a neatly packaged Snickers bar clutched in her hand. She placed the bar on the counter, and Gary began to ring it up.
"What do you do here?" asked the girl, a bubbling curiosity about her.
"Well, I sell things. Like this candy bar to you right now," replied Gary.
"Oh. What else do you sell? Do you..." her voice trailed off, as if her tongue had held back a question on the cusp of her lips.
"Magazines, medications, gasoline. Things that some people want. Things that some people need."
"Sir," she paused. The thought had returned. It sat fat on her lips, eager to overflow outward into the store. Her voice faltered again, "what else do you sell that people need?"
She was looking for a specific answer. Gary paused, thinking of how to reply. She wanted a certain answer. As Gary started to answer, she cut him off, blurting.
"Do.. do you sell time?" she exhaled.
"Time?"
"My daddy, the doctor says he doesn't have much left. I was wondering... do you sell it..." the girl locked her eyes on the candy bar on the counter, as if it were about to jump off and run away. As if she wanted to do the same.
"I'm sorry, we should be going," the mother interjected, shooing her daughter away from the gravity of the moment, toward the door, a bell sitting silent atop it.
"I don't sell time, no. Nobody does," Gary started as they turned to walk away. "We give and we get. Your daddy, he's running low on time. I don't have any to sell to you, but that doesn't mean you don't already have it."
The little girl had turned around now, meeting Gary's eyes one more time.
"It's all about how you spend it," he continued. "Not how you get it. How you spend it. Your daddy, he might not have time. But you do. Spend it. It'll never be for sale."
The open sign on the door rattled again. | Crooked teeth form a half smile on a scarred face, the merchant looking up at the little girl. She’s just shy of looking frightened. Bright blue eyes take in his scarred appearance.
“Time iz a very precious commodoty.” He spreads his hands to show all the items on his blanket, voice a slow roll. “What you be lookin’ for time fo’?” She bites at a pink lip with white teeth.
“For my mother.” The merchant raises his eyebrows, only one going up all the way.
“Oh, fo’ your mudda.” He smiles his crooked smile, watching it unnerve the strawberry-blond haired girl. She shudders under her black hood. “What your mudda be lookin’ for time fo’?”
“She needs some.” She pulls the cloak tighter around her, attempting to hide in plain sight. Her kind don’t come down to the bazaar.
“If she need time, den she need to talk to da magic men.” A grimace mars her pretty face for a second. She shakes her head. The scent of flowers comes from her hair.
“They can’t help. She needs time.” The rest of the statement is missing. The merchant knows what she means.
“I don’ sell time, lil’ girl.” She looks very disappointed. “But,” he holds a finger up, “I know da lady that does.” He curls his finger, drawing her in as she leans over, big blue eyes focused on him. “She don’ live in town. She don’ come to da bazaar.” He smiles, watching her shudder at the action as the scar on his face takes away half of the ability to do so.
“Where is she? How do I find her?”
“She live on da outskirts.”
“The edge of town?” Her eyes turn uncertain, glancing towards the far edge of town. Beyond, the forest is dangerous. Those at the edge of town are known to go missing.
“No lil’ ‘un.” He chuckles. “No, she live at da far edge of da forest. It dangerous to see her but she sell time. You can get it fo’ your mudda.” She draws back as if bit by a snake. Her eyes dart from him to the forest. “That da choice. You go see her, you get time.”
She stands, uncertain, looking from him to the forest. He sees the resolve in her eyes.
“Can you mark it on a map?” She digs a map out of her pocket, showing the city and some of the surrounding forest. It seems to go on for forever on her map.
“Dis map ain’t right.” He takes the charcoal from her, laying the map out on his lap. With all three fingers on one hand wrapped around the drawing utensil, he slowly draws a large circle around the city on the map. “Dis the forest. It don’ go on forever.” He marks one spot with an ‘x’ towards the edge of the circle. “She live here.”
The girl takes the map back, looking it over with uncertainty in her eyes. The resolve is still there but there’s much more uncertainty in her eyes. She traces the circle with her eyes.
“What’s beyond the forest?”
“Da plains.” He waves his hand through the air, crooked smile still on her face. “Far as da eye can see. More dangerous than da forest.” She writes something on the map, then nods.
“Thank you.” She ducks into her hood, allowing the crowd to sweep her away. The merchant laughs at her going.
“You be careful lil’ girl! Lotsa stuff in dem woods like to eats lil’ girls!” He howls with laughter. | 2016-04-18T22:14:36 | 2016-04-18T19:48:07 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] For hundreds of years you have been a healer. You changed names, faces, countries but one thing always remained the same — you cured everyone you could. You work in a modern hospital now and it's becoming much harder to do wonders and save people, while keeping your powers a secret.
[removed] | "Samuel J., diagnosed with three tumours, one of them in the brain. You were asked to remove it as part of ongoing cancer treatment. After that, his cancer disappeared entirely. His hair grew back rapidly despite continued chemotherapy."
"As you said, I removed it."
"And the cancer everywhere else?"
"The chemotherapy killed it, I suppose."
"Then what about the other two tumours, which you didn't remove? Why did they vanish instantly?"
"It could have been a false positive. MRI does that sometimes."
"That sounds rather convenient, doesn't it?" He turned to the next page. "Samantha A., brain bleeding and oxygen depravation from a failed suicide attempt. Recovered in a day, stopped experiencing suicidal thoughts. No lasting brain damage."
"That's easy to explain. The blood leaking out managed to put the oxygen back in, and I operated on her to stitch the vessels."
"And her depression?"
"Stopped after experiencing such a miraculous recovery, I assume. Something like a religious experience."
"You only stitched a few major blood arteries, according to the footage."
"Blood clots for the other ones."
"Without giving her a stroke?"
I shrug. He casts me a dirty look.
"Fine, try to explain the last one," he demands. "William R., diagnosed with a broken pelvis, among numerous other things. The CT scan confirmed it was in ten pieces, minimum, utterly unrecoverable. And he recovered. Not even in your field of specialty. You didn't even operate on him. You just spoke."
Oh. I thought they hadn't diagnosed him yet. I must be slipping up.
"Well," I explain. "as you said, I only talked to him. I told him he would recover, so it must be placebo effect." | Another one.
I lost another life.
And for what? To keep my secrecy? To ensure all the sweet nurses I've come into contact with for the past 10 years don't know who I truly am?
I see the sweet, loving, face of Bababra fall as yet another life is gone, as the line on the monitor runs flat. The atmosphere is tense, no one says a word, the room only fills with quiet shuffling of feet as we get to work.
Is this not our job? Normal doctors tend to say "Mistakes are made, and not every life is meant to be saved. These people that die today may not deserve to die, but they are meant to. It's fate Wanda, deal with it. "
But I'm not normal, I've never been. For the past 200 years, I've healed everyone I could, I saved millions of lives to this day, yet time and time again, I intentionally lose some. Nobody suspected when the bubonic plague was here, I was a priest. They simply called me a son of God, which is not fully wrong.
No one knows who I am, and no one will. I will make sure of it, even if it costs another life of an innocent. It's for the greater good. | 2020-11-15T09:35:55 | 2020-11-15T08:57:59 | 37 | 16 |
[WP] When they turn 14, every human gets an obscure super power with a lengthy description of it so they know what it is. But when yours arrives, it only says four words. “Don’t… | The enlightenment trials were designed to awaken unlimited potential within humans, they came to light after Archaeologists came across an old tomb, the tomb was beautifully preserved and had a wealth of knowledge within, including a rite of passage of sorts.
"The Trials Of Enlightenment" they were lead by the leader of the old world, a way to unlock hidden abilities within humans, a few people did the trials in the beginning, some died, some couldn't handle the mental strain and some were left with more questions than answers, however, a few managed to break through the end and come out reborn, stronger, faster, smarter, better.
The abilities ranged from telekinesis to necromancy and everything in between, it was found that the absolute best time for someone to go through the trial was 6 days after your 14th birthday, this gave a 97% success rate, give or take a couple points.
My sister went through it before I was born, she ended up in the ground, she was deemed too dangerous, my aunty did it and her ability turned on her, rendering her mind muddled and useless, she was sent to the "dirge" a pit for people to pay to do whatever sick things they want. My mother was lucky, she got high regeneration, so she's lived almost 4 lifetimes so far, my brothers and all the males in my family got good abilities, all the females got the shit end of the stick and that's why I'm terrified, I am to go through the trials later on and I don't know if I can, I would prefer to die than be another failed case.
As I walk up to the podium, I half-heartedly listen to the speaker, he is giving me instructions on what to do but my mind is elsewhere, I'm trying to remember all the possible outcomes, there are so many, I vaguely remember about the war that was started by Ray almost 3 centuries ago, we learned about it last year, he got one of the forbidden powers, there's meant to be 5 however some believe there is meant to be another one that has been lost to time.
These abilities started showing up thousands of years ago and when you get yours, it's meant to come with pre written text, a guide on what to do and what not to do, some shorter than others but it has been accepted that the standard size is around 700 pages, anything less could mean there's some information missing, but that's not always the case.
I place my hands on the bowl that sits on the podium, the speaker takes soft control of my mind to fill it with the correct words and pronunciation from the old language.
"s'ter mo chral'ya, reglai lo fir"
I speak these words and the water in the bowl turns to blood, a fear grips me, I'm unable to move, I'm trying to remember the excercises to stay calm but my mind is filled with pain, the pain of billions of souls, my ears are bleeding from the noise, the screeching of creatures long extinct, the whispers of the old ones long dead and the only thing I can see is myself stood atop a world a flame, I'm entranced and filled with a fear that I have never experienced.
It let's me go, I fall back down the steps and land on the grass below the podium, the guards and healers pick me up and take me to hospital.
As I slowly start to come to, one of the nurses starts asking me questions to make sure I'm alright, my mother sitting next to me, she says it's ok and that sometimes this happens, on the end of the bed was a book, it looked incredible, it was a beautiful white colour with gold outlines and four elements on the front cover, I had never seen one like this before, my mother says this is what I had in my hands after I fell off the podium steps and she's never even heard of this before.
She gives me some privacy as I pick up the book, it's soft to the touch, almost like a puppy, I open it in anticipation, I finally get to find out what I have, will it be good? Will I be able to help people? Will i be able to fly? Maybe run really fast? Or will it ruin me.
I open the book and it's empty, there's nothing there, pure white pages with nothing on them, I keep flicking through the pages starting to feel a bit nervous now until I reach the very last page, right there written in blood "Don't Touch The Stones".
The Stones? What stones? Why written in blood? I close the book and leave the hospital, I walk through a forest for some privacy, I'll have to return soon otherwise my mother will start wondering where I've gone.
Stones. Blood. So far I'm coming up with blood magic, that's one of the forbidden abilities, it's a class 2 forbidden ability, not only is it rare, it's devastating.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this. | Today is the day.
The scan is about to begin.
Anticipation is killing everyone.
And as THe Machine is lighting up, my mind throws out our history lesson on humans with superpowers.
"... 10 year war that engulfed all of the world that would later be known as Wars of Awakening. At the end of this war the new superweapon that all three sides were developing was used. All of these three superweapons have their origins in old project of now long dead terrorist organisation named Sons of The Phoenix. Their base of operation was raided by combined forces of three countries, one on whose terriotory all this happened and two who were "just helping". Of course every side snatched a piece of the project that those terrorists were developing. And oh such a coincidence that all three of them snatched a piece of the superweapon project for themselves.Yes, because they didn't have a propper and full schematics for that project all three of the countries had to develop their own weapons using the partial blueprints that they had. This took some time, around 10 years to be exact."
"... Awakening destabilised our locale space-time it made it into a ripped mesh with a lot of holes through which the primordial energy of creation would later pour into our reality.This energy is the purest and most unrefined kind of energy, it is the nul point of everything that there is..."
"...and with the saturated environments human bodies began to change. As usual it wasn't a rapid process, but with time, human body grew a new organ, or to be specific a pair of organs, a tight knot of nerves near the base of our spinal brain and a net of nerve-like cells across varying places in human body."
"Another coincidence was that all three of those countries finished developing their first working prototypes around the same time. Another lucky flip of fate made all three devices be activated at the same time, thus making them resonate with each other and causing not only the destruction that they were designed for, but also a tear in the fabric of reality itself..."
"As of now, current generations are the transit point between humans with no powers and humans born with powers. You are born with underdeveloped powerlines and they take their time to develop fully."
"I, John Hanks, present to you the perfect solution to the problem of which power a person has. This quantum computer simulation can answer the question of which power you have and what are exact limits to your abilities by taking a scan of your powerlines and analysing how it affects the world upon activation. Just visit... "
​
***Ding***
Is it already done?
I thought that it would take longer to print the ability book?
Huh... There's only one page to mine, shouldn't there be more?
"Don't run with scissors"
That is all that was written out on the paper.While everyone got a hefty book with a full description of their powers, mine is just a four word nonsensical bullshit.Shouldn't this this machinr be supposed to answer what ability does?Then why did it print out this... this nonsense.
What does my ability do and why shouldn't i run with scissors?
​
Five months.It took five months for my patience to run out.Every time i take a scan the simulation freezes. It just stops. And not in like my ability is to stop time, no, my ability does nothing, but this simulation still stops as if there is nothing more after i activate my powers.
Soon i shall find out what i can do.Soon my beautiful platinum scissors shall arrive.
​
I HAVE THEM. I FINALLY HAVE THEM!I FINALLY CAN FIND OUT WHAT MY POWERS DO!
​
Here i go, the road is clear. The scissors are in hand. The rising sun beautifully reflects of of every line on my scissors.I take a step back and start my race.
​
Nothing.Nothing is changing.I am running. Scissors are in my hand. I am closing on the end of the road.
But nothing changes.
The world is just as it was before.
I start running back.
Maybe if i try to run backwards?
​
Why the sky is darkening?
The sun is setting already?
I try to stop, but my legs keep moving.
Sun that was visibly rising just moments ago is now setting back...
I finally stop. In the begining of the road where i started.I look at the scissors in my hand. I look at the road.And i go back home.
Back first.... | 2022-05-08T07:54:58 | 2022-05-08T06:39:22 | 177 | 128 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a law was passed globally that requires everyone to hibernate for 100 years at a time after every 90 years. Today is Shutdown Day. As you finish getting tucked into your pod, you instantly notice eyes being shut all around you. But something is wrong. You are still awake.
This post was partially inspired by [this one.](https://www.reddit.com/r/morbidquestions/comments/aaeu8w/if_everyone_in_the_world_fell_asleep_at_the_exact/) | "Hey!!!" You scream as you kick and bang the glass thinking you will spend the next 90 years bored out of your mind.
"What? Stop your going to damage the pod." The technician says
"Oh hey, something is wrong I haven't fallen asleep yet" you say. "I don't want to spend the next 90 years awake in this thing"
"Sir calm down, just think for a minute. There are teams of technicians making sure everyone falls asleep and we have the technology to put you in a habitual state for 100 years, don't you think we have a way to monitor if you are awake or asleep? Plus we are right here you saw us put you in the thing".
"Well yeah but what if that machine is broken?" You say.
"You mean the giant machine with all the beeping and readings right next to your pod that makes a giant emergency sound when something stops working?" The technician says.
"Well ok but what if it is actually broken but it seems like it works" you say.
"Well if the technicians that do rounds 3 times a day never notice you are not asleep through this see through glass over a 100 year period, we will be sure to give you a refund" says the technician.
"You know you are kind of an ass" you say.
"Sorry sir but we have to put to sleep millions of people today and to many people like you have seen those old and stupid hollywood movies with major plot holes in them" says the technician.
Before you can respond gas fills your pod and your eyes begin to close, thinking what a dick. Then you hear a feint voice say "you know I'm right" as you pass out. | The hibernation is supposed to be a beautiful thing. Apparently all of us dream of our own perfect lives, but my situation was far from perfect.
"Help! Somebody Help!" I yelled desperately. The hibernation process was supposed to be flawless, a Human Marvel!. The pod opened itself and I got out. " Hello Alex, We have full trust that you will cooperate", a female AI voice said camly.
The lights shaped like arrow on the floor guided me to a room full of controls and screens. The directions on the screen read, "Choose 100,000 to Save from this Hellish Existence". Panicking, I quickly picked my 2 sons and wife. I also picked any extended family that was remotely related. Then I just picked people with an impeccable SOCIAL credit. Finally taking weeks, I made my choice and clicked enter.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! What did the phrase mean when it said save? I heard screams of children next to my pod. I then heard the silent hiss as the ventilation pushed gas into the room. I wasn't even sad, this place was hell. I was glad to go.
P.S. I actually suck at writing, this is my first post so sorry if this causes any physical pain. | 2018-12-29T04:08:01 | 2018-12-29T02:42:16 | 47 | 20 |
[WP] Dwarves are notorious for their love of alcohol. One day a dwarf goes sober and discovers it grants them amazing powers such as being able to remember what happened the night before. | "Ye've got to talk some sense into him," said Auntie Arm-n'-Hammer. "Och, it's just not right!"
"Fine." Papa BlackPorter finished his stout and wiped the creamy head from his mustache and beard. "But ye've got to work the bellows in my place until I'm back!"
Papa BlackPorter climbed up the long, long, long staircase to the stone gate. He hefted the gate with all his might; the gate to the surface was not meant to be opened and closed very often and resisted his efforts to leave the mountain. He blinked in the sunlight and wondered how his son could tolerate the surface.
The last time Papa BlackPorter had seen his son DeepStone, the young dwarf had set up a tent just outside the gate. The tent was gone. Papa BlackPorter spun slowly and examined his blurry surroundings. Dwarven eyes can focus finely on objects up-close, but rarely have reason to focus on objects in the distance; he really had to strain his vision to sight a tall, tall, tall stone tower a mile up the mountain.
He hiked to it and ran his hands over the tower's walls. The workmanship of the masonry was as good as DeepStone's fingerprint to the experienced Papa BlackPorter. "Come out, son, I know yer in there! It's not right, leavin' the mountain and buildin' towers! It's not the dwarven way!"
When he heard no answer, Papa BlackPorter circled the tower looking for an entrance. He found none; DeepStone had built the tower around himself from the inside. Papa BlackPorter took his trusty pickaxe from his belt and tunneled through the tower wall.
Inside the tower there was a staircase. Papa BlackPorter sighed as he climbed. Dwarves should never be so near the sky!
At the tower's ceiling there was a wooden hatch. Papa BlackPorter opened it and saw his son DeepStone sitting on the tower's ceiling's center. "Come down, son, yer gonna get sky-poisoning up here!"
DeepStone was unnaturally tanned by the sun. He wore black goggles to protect his eyes from alchemy ingredients arranged before him. He watched a Bunsen burner boil brown sludge in a glass flask as he powdered pebbles with a pestle.
Papa BlackPorter approached with a canteen of emergency alcohol. "Son, how long has it been since yer last drink?"
"I drink pure water, now, father. I pull it from the air."
"I mean a stiff drink, lad."
"Not since I left the underground."
Papa BlackPorter opened the canteen and put it under his son's beard. The canteen's contents were strong enough to made DeepStone's mustache curl. "Drink, son. Please."
"Do you wonder why there aren't any dwarven wizards?" asked DeepStone. His father had no answer. "It's because we don't apply ourselves."
"Yer not talkin' right."
"Father, look."
DeepStone put down his pestle and donned a thick glove. With the glove, he turned off the Bunsen burner and tilted the glass flask of boiled brown sludge. He poured the sludge through a screen.
On the screen remained flecks of blue metal. Papa BlackPorter covered his mouth. "Is that---"
"Mythril," said DeepStone. "Material of Elven Magicians."
"Did you---" Papa BlackPorter squinted at the blue flecks. "Did you make this with magic?"
"Dwarven magic. Alchemy. It's not flashy stage-show magic, but I figure it oughta take the Elves down a peg or two."
"Aw, that's my boy!" Papa BlackPorter hugged his son close. "I can't claim to understand ye, but I approve of yer alternative lifestyle!" | Dolkohm crouched on the gutter of the village inn's roof, standing perfectly illuminated by the inn-keeper's window. Many humans gave him a strange look as they passed by, but they were not his business tonight.
There, across the street a dwarf named Branren exited the local dwarvish pub, briefly letting out a cacophony of roaring debauchery and indulgence. Dolkohm's eyes narrowed. The stocky, young dwarf stumbled towards the alley he overlooked. He had chosen his post at the darkest nearby alley wisely, for any normal dwarf would find light abhorrent.
Dolkohm was no normal dwarf.
He crept from window to window, staying illuminated as to avoid detection. Branren was mumbling a bar song about rubies and sapphires and tits as he undid his pants and began to piss on the inn's wall. Dolkohm had made this mistake before. He would wait until the ale-drowned dwarf was finished, lest he whirl about in surprise.
And finish he did, with an unnecessarily loud and contented grunt. He was just buttoning up his trousers when Dolkohm landed behind him with a deep thud. When Branren turned he was greeted with a polished steel goblin mask.
"Branren"
The sodden dwarf turned to run but quickly stumbled and fell on the garbage strewn through the alley. He turned and gasped in horror as Dolkohm deftly avoided the trash. His swift and accurate movements did not match his dwarvish physique.
"Woh-wot do yur want mate?"
"Vengeance"
Branren threw some punches, but Dolkohm merely stepped out of the way. In between the drunk dwarf's lunges, Dolkohm jabbed at his sides until the inflictions caught up with Branren and he flopped onto his arse; breathing too hard for a 20 second fight.
"I tain't done nothin' mate. Yur got the wrong dwarf."
"Last night outside that very pub, you nearly took the eye of Grenmund Flintsbane because he picked up a copper that you swore you 'saw first'. Am I wrong?"
"Moradin's hairy arse", Branren whispered "Yur a dwarf tain'tya? Too strong for a goblin. And too tall. 'Tah sins of tonight are tah songs of t'morrow'? Umm... 'Ifa yur can drown a fight inna pint, it musta not beena strong swimmer'?!" Dolkohm stepped closer. "Ugh, ana... 'an eye for an ale'?"
"It's an eye for an eye." Dolkohm drew a thin dagger and knelt to Branren's level.
"Mate I don't ev'n member that. Neither does Gren! We were just sharin a pint! I asked him bout his eye n' he laughed n' said he didn' hava clue!" Dolkohm gripped the desperate dwarf's throat as he brought the dagger close.
"You do not receive absolution from drowning your crimes in ale, creten" He gripped harder as he lined up the dagger. "Dwarf violence will never stop if there is no punishment. Since there are never any witnesses, punishment must be doled out passively, in the shadows."
Branren was blubbering, "B-b-buh, but."
"Relax," Dolkohm gave a twisted smile, "tomorrow you won't even remember this." | 2017-12-31T08:13:51 | 2017-12-31T08:10:45 | 140 | 76 |
[WP] Ever since you received your letter for Hogwarts you've been curious about all the different spells there are. You've just bought your first wand and the first spell you try is what you believe to be rather humorous. "AbraCadabra". Nobody told you this spell was banned. For obvious reasons. | SEE the problem is, the literal translation of AVARDAkadavra is 'i destroy as i speak'. Abrakadabra is i CREATE as i speak. So honestly the logical conclusion of that is instead of killing something when you use abrakadabra, you accidentally multiply it thousands of times.
Little muggleborn kid in olivanders, flicks his wand and says happily 'ABRAKADABARA'. Suddenly all the knuts on the desk he was point at shudder, spark and POMF. The room is overflowing with coins. Coins cascading off the desk and multiplying unchecked from the one coin that got hit, flowing out of the store and into the street as the window breaks from the force of it.
Olivander and the kid are dug out of the heap an hour later, the shop is in utter shambles as the coins knocked everything off of shelves and shoved things around as they spilled out of the broken window like water.
Goblins having an ABSOLUTE FIT because some punk ass kid just counterfeited thousands of coins and most of them got grabbed by the people in the street. It's going to take MONTHS to track all of the damn things down. | It turns out that the etymology of the word "cadabra" can be traced back to the word cadaver. This is information I wish I knew before I decided to try out the spell several times while sitting on the toilet in a stall of the Howarts Boy's Room. In my ignorance, I fired off the spell multiple times after I saw no immediate results the first time around. After I finished my business and left the stall, I noticed, like, 6 conjured-up dead bodies on the floor! I'm silly like that. Now I know that the Abra Cadabra spell is just about the exact polar opposite of a casual and humorous spell. | 2016-12-01T23:01:13 | 2016-12-01T22:42:11 | 48 | 11 |
[WP] You die and appear before the Devil and seven other individuals. They applaud you and the Devil exclaims, “finally, an eighth deadly sin!” | I felt groggy. My back was stiff. “Where am I?” I thought. “I must have slept in. I can’t remember falling asleep.” The mattress felt unfamiliar. I eased myself into a sitting position.
​
“She’s up!” a voice to my left yelled, startling me to no end. I wrenched my eyelids open to take in my surroundings. We were in a big, dark room. I was laying on a bed against the wall. To my right there was a massive door with a metal handle. It was rounded at the top like a gate. The tiny lights pointed downward so when you looked up you could not see the ceiling. Everything was bathed in a reddish hue. It was cold. My mattress must have been bought secondhand from a prison. The stone wall in front of me shimmered as if it were wet.
​
To my left the room extended into darkness. The sharp footsteps of the man behind the voice echoed closer and closer until a pair of polished dress shoes emerged from the darkness. He was wearing a suit with a black tie and a teal pocket square. His hair was slicked back with gel. The scent of his cologne overpowered me, even from a distance of 15 feet. “Welcome to hell” he said brightly.
​
“Huh?” I mumbled trying to expel the grogginess from my brain. “Why are you dressed like that?” I felt silly for not being able to come up with a better question.
​
“I died at the office.” He chuckled. “I had a heart attack on Saturday night after I heard that this dimwit John got the promotion I deserved.” He smiled at me. My mouth hung open, unable to form coherent words. “Anyways, I’m pride. The boss will be here in a few minutes, but let me introduce you to the crew.”
​
A group of people emerged from the darkness behind him. “This is greed” he said motioning to a woman in a low cut dress revealing massive fake boobs. Her hair was wound up into a gravity-defying decorative mass atop her head. A small naked man stood to her left. He angled himself away from me in an attempt to hide his petit package. A fresh bloody wound marred the left side of his chest. “That there is lust. He got shot after he broke into his ex-girlfriend’s house. She had taken up another lover who happened to be a member of the NRA. Poor bloke is gonna be naked for eternity. Next is envy.” He gestured towards the next man. He was in his mid-fifties, with dark hair and glasses. “He died when he wrapped his brand new Lambo around a pole at 100 miles per hour the day after he declared bankruptcy. Then there’s gluttony and sloth, they’re inseparable.” Gluttony was a large man standing with his feet several feet apart in order to support his weight. Next to him was sloth, a woman in her 30’s whose stomach was tucked into the front of her sweat pants. “And this is wrath.” A giant muscle-bound man stood on the end of the line. His massive shoulders obscured his neck. “He had a roid rage incident. And that’s everybody. Who are you?”
​
“I’m… uh… my name is…” I stammered. “I can’t remember.”
​
The sound of a massive lock unlatching made all of us jump. The door to my right let out a shrill creak as it swung on it’s colossal hinges. A wave of oppressive heat rushed into the room. Behind the door flames enveloped a man with red skin and yellow eyes. His long stringy hair tumbled down around a pair of black horns stretching out from the sides of his head.
​
“My friends,” he said in a deep voice. “Our team… is complete at last.” Please welcome, our eight and final member, “We shall call her, failure-to-use-turn-signal.”
​ | A woman dressed in black lace sat across from me, her smile a flat caricature of human emotion. I had been coming to the pub for weeks now, hoping for answers. I had been given a small apartment, some money, and a message to return to Death's Door every evening at 10 PM.
No one seemed to want to tell me anything. There was no internet, not library, no tourist trap visitors center. It was just endless streets full of endless people.
No matter how many miles I walked, at 10 PM I would find Death's Door on the corner, welcoming me inside. When I left, at 2 AM, I would be right back out on Lime Street, two blocks from my apartment. It was frustrating, but not horrific.
I enjoyed the food and there was always live music. I had always been a lazy person, not really interested in pursuing anything too hard. So when I was met with a wall of nothingness, I went with it. I wouldn't find out anything until they told me.
Tonight, though, things seemed a little different. When I walked into the pub, no one was there. The lights were on, food was cooking, and the music was playing. The sign beside the stage promised *Luxuria and the Chastity Belts at Midnight*.
I sat at my usual table and played with the menu. It must have ten minutes before someone peaked their head into the dining area and saw me. They didn't scream at me to get out, they just smiled and disappeared back into the kitchen. Another twenty minutes passed before the "manager" came out to talk to me.
He was dressed as if he had somewhere else to be, another life he wished he could have kept living. He had torn jeans and thick-soled black boots. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail. But he was wearing a name tag and an apron over a Harley Davidson shirt and jean jacket. I could see the familiar logo, my Uncle Coop used to work there before he killed himself drunk driving.
"Welcome to Death's Door," the man said. "We are closed tonight for a special meeting. I hope you are understanding."
"I'm not sure where else I am supposed to be," I said. "I have been coming here every night for weeks. 10 PM, just like the message said. So, I am not sure where else to go."
"I... I will be right back," the man said. He paused. "My name is Avery, I am the manager here at the Door. Is... Let me go get the owner actually. I will be right back."
Avery returned moments later with two women. One woman introduced herself as Temperance Gula, acting manager of the Door. She asked my name, wrote something down in a little notebook, and disappeared out the door.
The other woman, Acedia, sat down at the table and asked me if I had any idea why I was here. "Like... not to be rude, but Morningstar doesn't usually work this hard to get people to stay here. She has been working overtime to keep track of your soul. It took weeks. So, do you know why you're here... Miss?"
I watched her run long fingers through even longer hair. She was pale, with a very Morticia Addams vibe. She yawned and rested her chin on her flat palm.
"No."
"I'm.... Sloth. That is the official title. You have met Avery... Greed. He's greed. And the woman who rushed off, that's..."
I interrupted with a cough. "What am I doing here? Hell? What the fuck is going on?"
"Well, my dear, sweet, Ariel... you are here to apply for assistant manager," Avery said.
| 2019-01-12T21:06:01 | 2019-01-12T15:32:21 | 631 | 72 |
[WP] With total war as a foreign concept to the rest of our galaxy. Everyone saw humans as the negotiators and the peace makers, soft and weak, today is the day the galaxy finds out why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | We, the Taithians, bore witness to the greatest power shift in galactic history. For thousands of years we've been at war with the Vinari, a war like species that believes they are the superior race in the galaxy. They eradicate all other sentient beings, regardless of their technological level. The Vinari are fearless, and ruthless. Or, they were.
In galactic year 14b.1201 they came across a curious species from a remote part of the galaxy called humans. At the time, these humans had only colonized a few stars in their region, and had no military presence to speak of. They claimed they were peaceful explorers and wanted to be friends.
The Vinari did what the Vinari do, and wiped out the most remote colony with ease. The humans quickly sent envoys out to the stars, seeking allies, finding none that were willing to expend additional resources defending such an underdeveloped species.
The galaxy soon realized they had made a grave error.
The second human colony fell, this time with more resistance than the first. Despite the technological differences, the Vinari took heavy losses. Undeterred, the Vinari continued their March across the stars, albeit at a slower pace.
This whole time the humans tried in vain to gain allies, support from other species. It never came, and how I wish it did. This is the transmission the humans sent just before they unleashed their might:
"Beings of the galaxy, we are a species called humans, from the planet Earth. Our colonies have been under attack from the Vinari, and we have tried reaching out for support, and to pursue peace. We have been rebuffed at every opportunity, and will not stand for it any longer. Today, we declare Total War on the Vinari. We will eradicate them from the galaxy and claim their territory for our own. If you stand in our way, you will suffer the same fate. You have been warned."
I was but a chitlin when they made this declaration, and even then it sent shivers through my nervous system. It still does to this day.
The galaxy didn't understand what the humans meant by total war. War was war, we all waged it to survive. Soon we found the truth was worse than we ever imagined.
Humans reveled in war, their history was rife with it. They pursued peace and assistance at every chance because they knew... They knew what real war was. They set it aside to survive... But now they unleashed it on the galaxy for the very same reason.
The next colony the Vinari attacked was stopped cold. A first in their long history. Rapidity in which the humans scaled their military might was frightening. Their economy, politics, everything turned and geared for war.
Soon, the humans reclaimed their colonies. The Vinari couldn't stop them. Then the humans pushed beyond their borders into Vinari territory. There were no survivors. The humans employed technology that other species only dreamed of. But that's not what scared the rest of us. Humans had a cleverness we still don't understand, they used unorthodox thinking coupled with their fearsome technology.
And in the span of a few galactic standard years (25 in human terms), the Vinari were no more. As promised, the humans erased them from the galaxy. Once their enemy was no more, they turned their fearsome sights on us. We all feared the worst.
Instead, the humans brought us all together to form a galactic government. Every species got to keep their territory so long as they abided by the laws. Having witnessed how fearsome the humans fought, we were all too happy to comply.
We all comply and behave, because we don't want to end up like the Vinari.
Edit: e then I, I then e, fixed a few times.
Edit 2: my first silver! Thank you kind stranger, I'm glad you enjoyed this enough to gild it! | "Rules for war?" The answer was slow and methodical as the general stood on the bridge. His scaled skin shuddering in disgust. "War has no rules. Perhaps it is time we show these humans just what a superior race looks like. Yes, We shall enslave them."
​
Invasion Day 1 Hour 1
The humans fell in droves, many fell to the initial bombardment. Our translators say we are in an area called Manhattan. Humans are a fairly frail species similar to our own. Granted we took losses but, what was a dozen of my men to the 100 humans that they slaughtered and, the thousands that fled. I admire the weaponry primitive as it may be it's effective simple ruthless kinetic projectiles but, these will easily be avoided.
​
Day 1 hour 2
It seems the humans have warriors of their own. Men mounted on great beasts wielding brutal clubs in blue uniforms proudly charging into the battle to safe others of their species. These men with them bring friends in dark uniforms wearing some form of armor that has made many of our kinetic weapons less effective. Our hand weapons fair a little better but, the humans in this second wave are stronger. Scattered voices speak of NYPD but, we know not what this is. Anytime this is mentioned the men on great beasts show up. The frailer individuals of the species are protected by these warriors and, rushed out of the battlefield. The humans have lost many warriors protecting these smaller individuals. We must leverage this to our advantage. Of our initial 300 troops I am allotting 700 more with which to fight along with aircraft.
​
Day 1 hour 6
These initial Warriors were nothing compared to a much more advanced class of warriors that has just arrived. Something the Primitive human tribes refer to as Marines. These brutes tower over their brethren wearing a cloth that makes them harder to find. Their voices boom over the sound of the primitive weapons they carry and, they ferociously charge, wielding daggers on the end of their kinetic weapons. Our aircraft were briefly effective until the Marines own aircraft showed up. We have suffered 98% loss throughout our fleet. In 20 more hours our own fleets will arrive bringing reinforcements. I must take to the battlefield personally to lead the 300 remaining members of my army.
​
Day 2 hour 5
The humans have won. Today I signed a document stating that me or my species shall never attack earth again. Our fleets arrived but as reinforcements touched down the ships were destroyed one by one. We have lost 10,000 brave warriors. I myself have only survived because one of the warriors forced me to yield after disarming and, injuring me. However, he did not kill me even though he had ample opportunity, instead he restrained my limbs. They broadcast over great projectors that I had been captured and, my own warriors threw down arms rather then face defeat. These humans they negotiate for survival because that is the only way in which their species will survive. They are among the most brutal and, savage races in the galaxy. For all reading this do not engage in war with them you might gain an early victory but, you will lose a war with them. I fear that by invading them we have given them access to the stars as they reverse our own technology. The one called Musk took great interest in our engines. All species run if we wish to survive. | 2018-12-14T21:31:30 | 2018-12-14T16:40:15 | 337 | 214 |
[WP] Weapons become more powerful the older they get. Modern guns will barely give someone a scratch but an ancient spear can devastate armies. | The detector went off and roused Blortxh from his sleep. After the sleep cleared, he jumped and ran for the screen.
This was impossible! A particle had just been intercepted originating from only a few klorths of light years away. Something had given this single proton the energy of a medium sized starship. What could have caused this?
47 Earth years earlier ...
Joan was 4. It was her birthday and her parents had taken her to one of the oldest dinosaur parks around to see dinosaur footprints. It was there that she found the prettiest rock she'd ever seen!
She showed her dad who was a paleontologist and geologist. He told her that her rock was easily older than the dinosaurs and that she should keep it.
What he didn't know was that 200 million years ago, that rock had been incidentally tail whipped during a fight towards a predator by its wounded prey. It was the first weapon.
Joan was excited and ran to show her mom but was stopped by a curious bee looking to get some leftover ice cream from her shirt. Joan panicked and threw the rock with the intent to hit the bee.
The earth turned incandescent and exploded with the fury of a supernova. The moon was a memory. Minutes later, the inner planets vanished in a wave of superheated plasma. The sun pulsed and erupted as wave after wave of plasma impacted its surface. Jupiter and the outer planets were stripped to naked cores.
47 years later ... a proton from the explosion hit an alien detector. | The apocalypse came how we least expected it. Not through famine, not through disease, not even nuclear missiles, but nostalgia.
It was the scientists' faults. Some braniac with a great love for history and an opposite amount of common sense created a time machine. Convinced we could learn from the great heroes of the past, he opened the portal and stepped through.
Little did he know, there is an odd side effect of time travel.
His first visit was to a World War I battlefield. His next, one of Roland's campaigns, and another the Viking battles of old.
So the scientist kept going, visiting random times and random places. But each time he travelled back, he brought a person with him.
Now I stand in a desolate desert, what was once the capital of IT. The name escapes me, for I hide now, praying that the Ancient Ones never find me, for all I have is a pistol, and they have Hildebrand, destroyer of worlds. | 2017-04-21T08:11:52 | 2017-04-21T07:10:27 | 117 | 15 |
[WP] The phrase "Those who don't learn history are doomed to repeat it" is true. Everyone who fails history class is sent back to a random era in history as punishment. You are one of them. | Okie dokie gang lets do a last minute roll call before we head off.
Miss Kapowski?
Here
Mr Morris
.........
Mr Morris
........
ZACH!!
Hmm oh Present
Mr Powers?
Right here sir
Mr Slater
Yo!
Miss Turtle
Here, I must say these sandals are devine
Well alright then that is everyone Mr Wainwright
Thank you Mr Belden, Welcome to Wainwrights History Tours! Now I know you all watched our 15 minute safety video before you were outfitted with your history specific clothing but why don't we take these next few minutes to do one last safety check of our equipment.
Suddenly the door crashed open, and a frizzy haired girl came huffing into the class room.
I'm here I'm here wait for me.
Ms Spano? what are you doing here? you received a A+ on every Western Civilization exam this year.
I know sir but I just couldn't pass up such an incredible opportunity
Suck up. Zach whispered as he nudged Slater
Who chuckled and pushed Zach a little too hard
Hey Hey Hey now what is going on here? Mr Belden questioned
You too pay attention now and quit clowning around! Mr Wainwright please continue.
Thank you, ah Miss Spano was it?
Jessie shook her head
We were just about to do our final equipment check, I see you have your translator necklace on can you test that it works please.
Opera omnia. she spoke in perfect latin.
Excellent, now in each one of your tunics you will find your Time Transmogrifier, We will be pushing the big red button exactly two times. Once when we depart and again when we return home exactly 30 minutes later, giving us just enough time to view the frescos and statues of the city.
Is everybody ready??
Yes Mr Wainwright, the student answered
Right then on the count of 3, One Two Three
A very strong wind picked up and a crack of light opened before them and they were sucked into the void.
When they finished spinning they opened their eyes and saw that they were in the middle of a beautiful plaza with large bronze and marble statues and bubbling fountains.
Mr Belden, who looked for a minute like he might get sick, straighten himself out and addressed the class.
Now who can tell me when and where we are?
Jessie's hand shot up and before she was called upon began to speak
Sir we are in Ancient Rome in the city of Pompeii.
That is correct, and who can tell me besides Miss Spano what made this city famous?
Well sir I'm not sure, Samuel screeched
But I'm hoping it doesn't have anything to do we that giant smoking mountain over there!
Mr Wainwright shot bolt up right and turn to look at the mountain
No, No, No this can't be right we were supposed to arrive a full week before the eruption! there must of been some form of interference with Transmogrifier!
Just then Zach yelped and started to pat the front of his tunic as smoke began to wisp out of his pocket. He reached in and pulled out his still smoking Motorola DynaTAC and threw it into the nearest fountain.
As the portable phone splashed down a thundering growl came from the mountain and the ground shook violently under their feet.
WE NEED TO LEAVE NOW! Wainwright was barley audible over the deafening roar of Mount Vesuvius
READY!? Three, Two, One goooooo!
The top of the mountain disappeared in a cloud of ash and fire
Whirling back into the classroom the gang all hugged in relief of there near miss.
Kelly Kapowski was the first to realize something was wrong.
Where is Zach!? Has anyone seen him?
Um guys you better look at this Samuel screeched as he held out their text book open to the page on the excavation of Pompeii
[https://imgur.com/RoWX5BF](https://imgur.com/RoWX5BF)
# | "15. What were Julius Caesar's famous last words, and why did he say them?"
I sighed, sparing a glance to the clock. 60 questions on a test for 60 minutes? This was ridiculous, and I'm not just saying that because I was paying no attention to the class whatsoever for the entire year. For a long time I just stared down at that question, knowing full well I probably wasn't going to finish the test at all in the time given. Mom and dad were going to kill me when they found out how badly I screwed up the history final.
In the end I just picked at random (my choice ended up being D. "Livia, live by the memory of our marriage; he was comforting his wife.") I'd only been at question 35 when the bell finally rang to announce my failure. I hunched my shoulders and stood up with the other late finishers, trudged to the front, and handed in my paper.
I told my parents, of course. I'd always found they were a little less harsh about this stuff if I told them first. Still, Dad was angry, of course. Told me I wouldn't be allowed out of the house for the first week of summer. I wish he'd had the opportunity to enforce that now, I really do. That night, I went to sleep in my own bed and woke up in one that was *much* less comfortable, I have to say. Light was streaming in through the top of a... well, a very old-seeming tent. I don't know the technical term.
I sat up, got out of the bed. More of a sleeping roll, really, not a bed. It looked like it was just cut from animal hides and furs sown in right onto the sides. Definitely not very appealing, but better than the ground I guess. The tent was pitched up with what amounted to a big wooden pole in the center, probably ropes outside. The fabric looked rough, and outside I could hear... people. A lot of them. And what sounded like horses? Confused, I left the tent to find a huge number of people moving about what I immediately recognized as a war camp. Many sat around fires, cooking up their breakfasts, while others lead horses carrying equipment back and forth.
I would later find out that this was the Roman Legion. And they were apparently following me, attacking tribes of barbarians to expand Rome's land. This all was sounding very familiar, and I got a lot of odd looks in the first few years; but I settled into my new role eventually.
First the tribes; they fell easily before the Legion, and I barely had to say anything. The generals handled a lot of the strategizing, and I could just poke in every now and then with the little tidbits I remembered from History (I got the time wrong every now and then, but for the most part it was a positive.) I gained favor in Rome; I came back and took control. I had my allies, to watch my back for the dissenters; Marcus, Decimus, Gaius. All these Roman names seemed strange to me, but the full names were worse a lot of the time. I ended up just calling Marcus by his last name, Brutus a lot of the time.
Still, I'm optimistic about the future. I see enemies in the shadows, every now and then; but I know who I can trust. Brutus is watching out for me, I'm sure. | 2018-06-14T20:20:47 | 2018-06-14T18:33:35 | 33 | 16 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | "So, about the humans..." Said a voice with diplomatic neutrality.
Groans from a myriad of different species' voices could be heard throughout the conference hall. There was a meeting being held on how to properly welcome these new, strange creatures now that they had, technically, at least, achieved Faster Than Light travel.
"We organised this meeting to discuss them! When are you all going to stop pussyfooting around the issue!?" The same voice declared, with a level of anger hard to believe considering their tone mere seconds ago.
"Blarpart, I know you're a workaholic and all that but have you SEEN these...creature's form of FTL "travel"?" A gruff voice from somewhere in the hall responded over the din of arguing and groans of "are we really fucking doing this?"
"I agree that it's...unconventional but-"
The word "unconventional" being used to describe human beings' method of intergalactic travel caused an uproar among the crowd.
"Hey! HEY! HEYYYYYY!" Interjected Blarpart with an odd mixture of rage, impatience and exhaustion. "It works for them, who are we to judge?"
"Don't you get it? They use possibly the most unstable thing in the universe, a wormhole, and pump it with a load of who knows what to make it last more than a nanosecond and to a greater size than a few atoms and just *sigh* go through it and hope for the best"
"As I said, uncon-" Blarpart thought better of using *that* word again and instead chose to deflect the conversation in the hopes of finishing and grabbing something from a Space Denny's on the way home.
"Ok, how about we just ignore them? They're not going to last long as a species if THAT'S how they traverse space. From our observations, their 'wormhole jumping' has about an 80% chance of failure. All in favour?"
A chorus of relieved "aye"s reverberated throughout the room.
"All opposed?"
...
"Well then, that settles i-"
"YOU FUCKING WOT, M8?" A voice shouted from just outside the hall.
"Can I go without being interrupted for ONE MINUTE?" Blarpart said in an exasperated sigh.
And with that, a duo of humans, one tall with brown hair and the other short with black hair, burst into the hall with their bottles of what they call "Mountain Dew" and bags of "Doritos" and started going on about how we can't "diss" them like that.
"You know what? Fuck these alien squares, wanna go piss into a black hole?" The taller one said.
"Yeah, dude. Definitely." The shorter one replied with an almost endearing level of excitement at the prospect.
And with that, the duo left as quickly as they had entered.
"What just happened?" A member of the crowd ask with a disbelieving tone.
"...Humanity. Humanity happened" said Blarpart, with yet another sigh.
Spelling and removing the pretentious "fin". | "Surely you can't be serious?" Said one of the Xygian scientists to the Human delegation.
"I am serious, and don't call me Shirley." Replied Dr. Filmer before receiving a high-five from one of the other members of the delegation.
The Xygians continued "We cannot, in good faith, approve of this travel mechanism. Your planned use of toroidal quartz crystal will not be allowed by the Planetary Planning Board."
"We are guaranteed by our rights, as dictated by the fifty seventh Interplanetary Conference for the Well-Being of Life in the Universe, to have access to faster than light space travel for the uses of commerce and exploration."
"Doctor, we are well aware of the rights you are guaranteed, but we cannot, in good faith, approve of this method of travel just as we could not approve of your, what was it? Oreo Project?"
"Project Orion, Sir."
"Yes, that one... We are sorry, but we cannot approve these plans."
"Our small scale tests have shown that this is a very efficient and safe mode of travel, our simulations have shown the same, as did the large scale test on our moon. Based on the evidence provided, you cannot disapprove of our plan."
Yes, but there is currently concern coming from the Ethics Board on the matter and they are worried about it's possible implications for war as well as the potential ethical concerns over some of the mechanical aspects of your device. For the spoken record, Doctor, could you please explain the technical aspects of your device to the rest of the comity gather here today?"
"Our current model for achieving faster than light travel is based around the use of a coil-gun, or static discharge cannon, powered by the static charge gathered by a toroidal quartz crystal we would put into orbit around our planet. The crystal would be spun by solar winds generated by our local star and the power would be converted into high amplitude, low frequency, radio waves so the power can be transmitted wirelessly to a capacitor bank on our moon where the cannon would be located."
"That being all well and good, could you state, for the record, the medium you are using to generate the static electricity?
"Um, cats, Sir. Members of the feline species native to our planet. We have found their ability for generating static electricity has no rivals. But if you would like, for the sake of the Ethics Board, we can run some tests on other organic materials and possibly synthetics materials."
"Thank you, we'll see you again in two Florms. Meeting adjured." | 2017-03-31T10:44:01 | 2017-03-31T04:21:18 | 31 | 19 |
[WP] Time travel exists, and a new form of capital punishment is introduced: Transporting the convict back to the worst, practically unsurvivable, places in human history to find yourself in. You are such a convict, and just got sent back. You will do anything to try and survive. | I landed in a quaint town, next to a smoky mountain.
Of course, there was no point running. I had watched documentaries on this procedure on the Aliens Channel, and they always picked times with fast travel and events with a large span of effect or controlled by a homicidal maniac who is guaranteed to murder you.
I looked around. There were a couple of people dressed in a prisoner's garb similar to mine looking around quizzically. Hm. This was probably a popular destination for capital punishment.
I saw a street sign, it looked like Latin. I had begun to get an idea of where I was.....
Then another sign; from the picture it seemed like a warning about the smoky mountain. And on the top, it said something about "Omnes Cives Pompeii".
Oh. I was sure of it now. This Roman town was the doomed Pompeii, and that mountain, Vesuvius.
But wait. Where were all the people? The shops were all closed. The streets had empty carriages on them. It looks like the people of the city just ... left.
Perhaps the tragedy had already happened? No, I was certain this town was buried with its inhabitants in it. This was strange; I could distinctly recall disturbing images of the ash remains of people cringing from Vesuvius' regurgitations.
More prisoners popped up around me.
The horrifying truth struck me.
No _Roman_ was killed at Pompeii. | I suppose I deserved it really, but why give me the choice? How could anyone make that kind of choice?
Gallipoli or the Somme. Two of the worst battles in history. Bloodbaths of the highest degree.
"WELP, if I'm gonna choose, I'll take Gallipoli, at least it will be sunny." I said to the executor, and he turned to punch it into the machine.
The standard "any last requests or word to say" have long since gone, that bastard Washington cheated and became famous! He ruined everything for people like me...
As the machine buzzed and whirred to life, I sat inside and remained calm. Nothing much to do about it but wait and receive punishment.
A flash of light; a searing heat, then the roar of war erupts around me.
I open my eyes, and begin to smile. | 2015-01-24T14:05:11 | 2015-01-24T13:01:21 | 194 | 11 |
[WP] Everyone is granted a familiar when they turn 15. A loyal creature that vastly improves their owner's life. Your familiar is one of the wisest and most powerful of them all. Unfortunately, you're deadly afraid of it's species. | Take a wild guess what I got. What are a LOT of people afraid of, hm? What sends thousands upon thousands of grown adults into fits of fear? If you guessed spiders, well here's your cigar man. My familiar was a fucking spider. Not just any spider either, since it was "magical" or whatever the thing was enormous. About as big as my torso to be exact. When it crawled down the wall of the summoning room I nearly kicked it across said room but, because it was a magical spider, it moved out of the way EXTREMELY fast. My impulsive action didn't seem to bother it though, it just backed up and appeared to compose itself before speaking in a somewhat chittery but strangely human voice.
"Well now I can't say I'm surprised; but don't you think that's a bit rude? I mean we haven't even spoken yet and you're already trying to kill me."
The shock was starting to fade and my acceptance was beginning to grow, slowly. The large arachnid must have seen this happening by the look on my face and continued with it's introduction.
"I am Nevil, or at least that's what my name sounds like in your language. I don't want you to have to make a bunch of clicking noises whenever you want to speak with me, that would be weird for both of us, trust me."
I was still horrified of the thing but it was just BARELY starting to seem sort of cool. I decided I'd try talking with it at least.
"So... Why is my familiar a spider? Like, what's your purpose?"
"To protect and serve you of course! I am also very lonely so I'd like it if we can be friends!"
Nevil sounded downright giddy and he switched from leg to leg to leg while speaking.
"Friends?"
"Why yes, of course. It's very lonely where I come from, my kind are not exactly sociable but I'm an exception. I need a companion and it looks like that is you."
Nevil raised one leg to point at me. It was strange, but I swear I could read facial expressions he was making while talking.
"Well... Nevil... Ho-how are you going to improve my life?"
"A question straight from the book of course. Well I can provide protection against a very long list of things, including your own kind; I can make VERY durable clothing, and I can be a wonderful companion. These are broad explanations but I'm sure you'll find they are all true."
Nevil sounded sincere and I was kind of starting to like him, I decided he sounded more male than female. I took a few steps forward.
"I suppose I've also been sort of lonely these past few years. Might as well give it a shot since you don't seem to have any intention of biting me."
"BITING YOU? Oh nonono I would never in my life, promise."
I felt bad, it sounded like I had hurt his feelings. He crawled a little closer and looked up at me, eyes seeming to get wider.
"I would NEVER hurt you, I need you and if you let me, I will be your closest companion."
I decided then to make a leap of faith. I kneeled down and stretched my hand out. Nevil let out a chorus of excited clicking sounds and jumped onto my arm. I flinched, bracing for his fangs to puncture my skin, but he just continued crawling up onto my back. He was surprisingly light, it wasn't unlike carrying my school bag around. With that out of the way, I left the summoning room.
You can imagine the looks we got as we walked down the hallway to the school exit. With my school bag in hand and a massive spider on my back there were looks of horror, confusion, and some funny jokes but none of it bothered either of us. I still remember that day as the best day of my life.
It's been five years since I summoned Nevil and he has honored everything that he promised when we first met. I've even taken to wearing the clothes he makes more frequently than standard clothing. On long nights I'll stay up smoking while he spins elaborate webs in the upper corner of my porch and we'll talk for hours about mostly what he's curious about. He asks about books a lot for some reason but I don't mind telling him about them. My house is pest free and Nevil hardly ever needs to ask for more food, I've asked if he can roam the rest of my apartment building and use it as his hunting ground but my landlord kindly turned me down so every once in a while I have to buy something for Nevil to eat.
As for protection, well we got into a bit of trouble a year ago when someone tried to break into my apartment while I was away. I left Nevil at home to go to the store for a little over an hour but when I came back the door was kicked in and there was a man wrapped up in an extremely tight cocoon hanging from the ceiling. He was screaming bloody murder of course and Nevil was looking at him angrily.
"He broke your coffee mug."
Nevil sounded like an annoyed parent.
"Okay...?"
"And he tried to take your money."
I really didn't know how to proceed at this point so I told Nevil to cut him down and I called the police. They showed up shortly after and weren't alarmed or confused in the slightest. They just picked up the bundled-up burglar and walked out. Nevil did a temporary fix on the door and I had it replaced the following week.
Anyways, all I can say is that if you're summoning a familiar and you get a massive spider, you're gonna have a good friend and exceptional pest control. | I was 15 years old when I was finally granted my familiar. I had been waiting for what felt like forever, and when the day finally arrived, I was so excited I could barely contain myself. A familiar is one of the most important things a person can possess in life. They are loyal creatures that vastly improve their owner's life. My parents had both been granted familiars when they turned 15, and they spoke of it with such reverence, as if they had been given a gift from God himself.
My familiar is one of the wisest and most powerful of them all. Unfortunately, I am deadly afraid of its species.
I was so nervous to meet him that day that I could hardly keep my eyes open. My father woke me early, before the sun had begun to rise. He told me he had been waiting for this day for as long as he could remember. My mother had made muffins for my father to bring with him, and my grandmother had packed a lunch for both of us, in case we got hungry during the day. I was allowed to pack a small bag with my favorite books and a few toys.
We left the house together and walked to the familiar summoning hall. When we arrived, there was already a line outside the building. As soon as the doors opened, everyone ran inside, eager for the opportunity to meet their new companion. My father and I got in line behind all the others and waited patiently, holding hands.
Drowsy from staying up all night, I found myself dozing off in line. Suddenly, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and saw a boy about my age. He had a strange grin on his face and was holding an envelope.
"What's this?" I asked him. He didn't answer, but instead handed me the envelope and ran away. Confused, I opened it and pulled out a small piece of paper rolled up into the shape of a tiny scroll. I opened it and read:
Dear Ms. Caela,
I have been so pleased with your performance as a student at the academy that I decided to grant you a second familiar. Please meet me in the auditorium at 8am to receive your new companion.
Sincerely,
Headmaster Roth
I was stunned. Why would the headmaster grant me a second familiar? I waited until the line had advanced a little and showed the note to my father. He exchanged a look with me and led me to the front of the line.
"Excuse me," my father said to the woman guarding the door, "my daughter has just been granted a second familiar. I'd like to see the headmaster immediately."
The woman looked at me and back again to my father. "One moment, please, I will see if he has time to see you."
She went inside and closed the door, leaving us standing outside in the cold. My father wrapped his cape around me and pulled me close to him. It felt good to be tucked against him, protected from the wind. It was still early enough in the morning that I could see the orange glow of sunrise over the horizon.
Several long minutes passed while my father and I waited. I tapped my foot impatiently, anxious to be inside the warmth of the building. Suddenly, the door opened and the woman reappeared.
"If you'll come with me, please," she told us.
My father took my hand, and we followed her inside. The room was filled with people, all waiting for their familiar to arrive. I looked around for the person who had given me the note, but there was no sign of him. The woman led us up to an office door and knocked on it.
"Enter."
She opened the door and gestured for us to go in. I walked inside and stood in front of the desk, my eyes downcast.
"Your familiar is inside," the woman told me, gesturing to a box on the floor. I looked down at the box and gasped.
I had been expecting a small snake, or maybe a black bird. But there, in front of me, was a full-grown tiger. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out.
"Oh my God, Cal," my father whispered, "it's beautiful."
Before I could react, he picked me up in his arms and set me down in front of the tiger. The woman closed the door behind me but left the room. I stared up at the tiger, terrified. | 2022-01-14T14:23:25 | 2022-01-14T13:45:49 | 27 | 17 |
[WP] A newly-hired bartender is slowly realizing that he's working at the bar from all of those "X walks into a bar" jokes. | "Alright Sam, just watch how it's done."
Sam looked attentively at Holly, her higher-up, as two men in lab coats walked in and sat in front of them. Holly smiled and said to them, "Chemists?"
"Yep."
"What'll y'all have?"
"I'll have H2O, please," said one.
The other followed, "I'll have H2O, too."
Holly motioned to Sam to get some water for the first chemist as she reached under the counter and pulled out a small brown bottle. She kept it out of view of the scientists as she blended the second man's drink. Curious, Sam went over to her and whispered, "Holly, what are you...?"
"Standard procedure. Customer said it's what he wants--and the customer is always right, Sam. Besides, this is a pretty common order; nothing to worry about."
Holly turned back to the customers with a glimmering grin and handed them their drinks, which they eagerly gulped down. Not long after finishing, chemist #2 collapsed and began writhing in pain. The other promptly called paramedics, and they left. Then, while Holly started to clean up after the men, Sam picked up the little bottle, which read: HYDROGEN PEROXIDE.
*What the fuck? Is this some kind of joke?* she thought. Her gut wrenched as realization hit her like an iron fist.
The bell jingled at the door, and she looked up. Some religious officials from different sects walked in, animals, celebrities, historical figures...they came in droves and seated themselves along the counter. Then, just as she thought the horde was done, to her horror, another pair of chemists stepped in.
*That's it, I'm out.* | The last bartender grinned as I signed the employment papers, then handed me a metal pipe with an odd scribbling on it.
"What's this?" I asked.
"When someone walks in you listen to their story, then make an observational comment on what they say or look like. After that? Hit 'em with this. It'll knock them right off the stool," he said.
Then he pranced out of the front door yelling, "I quit!"
This had to be a joke, I thought. I looked at every plaque, bottle, and furnishing. I'd seen them all before, like someone took every memory and image of a bar and compiled a living mosaic.
The last bartender stormed back in.
"I forgot something, sorry. What you're holding, we call that. It's so old, you probably can't read it, anyway, we gave it a nickname, because it looks like it hurts and it's pretty straight," he said as he walked forward.
"Well, what do we call it? Looks like a bar to me," I contemplated his instructions and did just as he said: I swung at his eyes. His facial features twisted around the metal pipe as he jerked away and landed face first on the floor. He looked up with a bloodied forehead.
"No, we call it the punchline." | 2015-05-14T19:10:48 | 2015-05-14T16:02:19 | 87 | 14 |
[WP] As a villain henchman, the number 1 rule you're always taught is to never outshine the boss. However, during a small bank heist, you accidentally kill your boss' arch nemesis, and the legion of superheroes now see YOU as their ultimate threat. | *I was just trying to protect him..*
Under the weight of early mornings, safety drills, weapons proficiency, endurance training–
Following what I’d learned after all these years by his hand.
Everything happened so fast. One moment, we were executing our mission flawlessly, everyone seemed to be cooperating just fine– but– one of them must have made the call, because the next thing I knew, I was surrounded by my friends and civilians alike being crushed by the falling debris of the bank’s crown molding caving in from the grand entrance of *The Incredible Dick-Wad*. We were all caught by surprise, and with radioactive hands glowing in position to blow the only home I’d ever known away– I just moved first. I couldn’t see the change in his eyes when he saw the flash of my arc rifle obliterate the corporeal form of his arch nemesis. That look of doe-eyed shock came at the billions of atoms exploding like torrential rain falling over us, keeping the air still for a moment that felt like a week.
“What.. did you *do*..?” There was accusation on his level tongue, but a playful smile tugged at the corner of his mouth that proved he was, if nothing else, amused by all this.
“I-I was just–” The sound of your gun hitting the floor in an obnoxious clatter superseded the rushed slide of your footsteps to grovel, “Please-Master-I-was-just-trying-to-protect-you– I didn’t think–”
“Shh-shh-shh–” The heat of his finger against the feared chill of your lips, “Now’s not the time for that.” He was practically giddy at this point, lingering his thumbprint against the dusty cracks of your lips.
Painful heat gripped your cheek as you stumbled, “Y-you’re not mad?”
“Oh no, I’m absolutely furious– You just ruined twenty-four years and three months worth of build-up in a single shot–” Weightlessness took you as the a silver box from his belt tossed at you unfolded and bubbled you in an indigo force-field, “However, you’ve made a lot of people far more powerful than yourself very pissed off, and staying here any longer is asking for a much worse fate.”
Before anything else could be said, I blinked and found myself being pulled swiftly behind his hyper-cycle, zipping past clouds and confused birds alike. In no time we were back at the base, having left me with little time to mull over what I had actually done.
Watching the shield around me dissipate, the darkened sweeping angular architecture framed him like an alien god as I fumbled with my words, “What-what am I going to do?!”
With his house cape fluttering behind him, his figure easily floated over to the large control panel that gave way to a tessellating doorway to his weapons locker. Following behind him in a scuttling step, the walls filled with guns, grapples, and garb left me speechless as only a privileged few were allowed in this space. Anxiety crawling over my skin pricked and pulled me apart the longer he kept me in silence.
Reaching a wall laced in glowing teal circuits, he finally turned back to face me. A true deity gracing me with his presence as his voice echoed endlessly in my mind, ethereal and comforting, “We– will do nothing– However, *you*.. will become my most precious weapon.. and we will finally destroy those wastes of carbon, what do you say?”
It was easy to find myself kneeling before him. Feeling the grace of his power consume my senses with the shine of his greedy smirk, the threat that lay before me seemed small compared to his confidence. Did I have a choice to deny him? *Did I even want to?*
Bowing my head, the words poured like water from me, remembering the oath pounded into us from day one:
“*My hands are your tools.
My body, your machine.
You will fix me.
Build me stronger.
Shape our new world.
My thanks will be to you.
Great Artificer.*”
Another caressed touch soothed against my cheek as his tone sounded like melted butter, “**Perfect~**” | I didn't really care all that much for Borg. The failed cyborg. He was bad at everything he did, but he was one of the few in the aristocrat who didn't try to hurt me. Not to say I was treated all that differently from the other sidekicks. Maybe he knew what it was like to be different or maybe he was just broken mentally, I never knew him before. He doesn't talk much.
From what I've read it seemed that he was average at best before the accident. He had as many victories as he did failures. He would be called for reinforcement sometimes, only the very or poorly skilled would never get called upon.
Now, he'd get stopped a lot, to be fair, most of the time things simply failed due to bad luck. This one time he built a mecha-suite and took most of the downtown as hostage. He even put up a good fight with the heroes that day, they had to call in reinforcements, but proved to be superfluous, as the suit caught fire, and he had to jump out. Another time we were about to make it back to headquarters with the loot, before a streetlamp crashed right into the hood.
Today we'd so something simple like rob a bank, a new local branch of the RolliePollie Bank. A branch known for having a different theme each weak. Ii think it was cowboy themed this week, as everyone was dressed up in boots and a large hat. When we got in he said, "you know the drill." Everyone sat on the floor while I and the other's blocked the door and held our guns up while he and a few managers went to the back.
He threw us some bags to take back into our unmarked cars. As he started throwing us the gold bars, Something flew into the window. He was a young looking guy, probably twenty, with blonde curly hair and some acne. He was dressed in red, white and blue.
"Buddy, you picked the wrong day," he said.
Our laser shots seemed to stun or really hurt him, but he sprinted to the closest hunchman, and punched him in the face, before using him as a shield and charging at us with him. As he was getting close to another, Borg caught him by suprise with a ear defening shot to the rib.
"Ahhh," The hero cried out as his face contorted. Yet he was still quick enough to dodge the following shots by running side to side as he advanced on Borg. He headbutted him, grabbed both his arms, and broke them in his grip. He then Kicked Borg onto the ground.
Borg fell onto a wall and the hero followed him and laid blow after blow on him. Then the hero flew threw another pane of glass just over my head. I wasn't sure what to do now. I started to approach him, but before I got too close, I heard the sound of glass breaking again, and the wind sent me back. He was back holding a giant statue over his head, and approached Borg who was about to be crushed to death under a statue. And before I knew it, I lit a huge flame towards the hero. He ran and hit the floor trying to put it out.
But I think I was the only one staring, everyone was giving me that weird feeling by just looking at me. And the entire room was silent.
Most people cheered for the heroes, but a lesser number cheered for the villains, although the internet might make you think a lot of them did. But no one would ever cheer for one of the lower cast defeating an aristocrat. No one likes different.
I turn and ran, only taking a few steps out the door before bolting into the sky. I didn't know where I'd go know. But I knew I just had to get away. | 2022-12-10T12:34:35 | 2022-12-10T10:27:44 | 43 | 21 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | How to make a spreadsheet
Porn
Best protein powders
How to know if a guy is straight
What to do on leg day
How do I know if I'm really gay
Gay porn
How to clear browser history
How to ask for a pay raise
How to meet gay men
First date ideas
How to come out to your best friend
Meal prep
Gay porn
My best friend doesn't accept me for who I am
Romantic weekend getaways
How to come out to your siblings
How to get v cut
Jobs in my area
Being fired for being gay
Gifts for him
How do men feel about gay guys in locker rooms
Gay friendly gyms in area
Legal advice: siblings want to force me out of will
Valentine's Day reservations
Furniture moving companies
Gay porn
Kitten adoptions
How to introduce best friend to boyfriend
How to dress for job interview
How to decorate apartment
Viral proposals
Gay weddings
How to get back to the gym
Engagement rings for men
Should I invite my family to my gay wedding
Wedding vows
Do kittens get lonely
Kitten adoptions
Wedding venues
How to deal with family not attending wedding
How to ask for a pay raise
Great core workouts
Surrogate mothers
Edit: thank you for the gold, beautiful stranger!
| Best private school LA
LA public school system
Jobhunter LA
Budget kids clothes
How to fix a leaky faucet
Modern student backpacks
How to qualify for an education loan
Return Klip-pack 9000
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What to do if your apartment floods
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How to help your kids with math
Best Christmas presents for kids 2014
Chronic pain in throat
Cold medicine Amazon
Chronic coughing
How to qualify for Childrens Health Insurance Program
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Part time jobs LA
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Alternative medicine LA
What is chemo therapy
Throat cancer surgery success rate
How to qualify for a medical loan
What to do if you can’t pay credit card bill
How to qualify for a loan with bad credit
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Child caskets LA | 2015-02-04T19:49:45 | 2015-02-04T17:13:32 | 112 | 23 |
[WP] A burglar breaks into a home to accidently find the owner attempting to hang himself. | It started off like it always did: a quick elbow to the window, the dowel to keep it open, and he was in. It was routine by now. Not just the theft itself, but the expectation that he needed to be a thief. He settled into his role nicely, as if this was his ordained path, what he was meant to do.
This job was a little different. He typically worked at night, but he had tracked this family for a while. The kids would be at school, the father at work, and the mother off fucking her pilates teacher or whatever else. The robber had seen her before, and smirked to himself while thinking that maybe he should have taken up pilates himself.
A tablet in the kitchen was brushed into his duffel bag like scrap. The lengths he went to in order to steal, the risks he put himself in, and he always treated his haul like trash. He continued into the bedrooms and took a pair of shoes and a watch, then moved into the study.
The study took him aback. Through the buttresses of light shining from the windows to his left, dust set heavily, swirling around the room. Long shadows were cast as the man in front of him atop a mahogany chair gripped the rope around his neck.
"You're here to steal from me, aren't you?"
The robber thought to himself for a moment. Immediately the hypocrisy hit him- oh, how rich it was that the suicidal were accusing the thieves of theft!
The robber looked up at the man, skin like paper and hollow eyes. He walked over to the man, judged him up and down until his eyes met those suicidal globes two feet above his. He smiled, and the homeowner flashed a panicked face for just a moment before beginning to struggle as the robber kicked out the chair from underneath him.
"I could never rob you of your freedom." | Woah! Hey, so I'm in the wrong house. I'll let you get back too . . .
Wait a minute . . . note, chair, empty bottle of Jack . . . holy shit you're not doing the autoerotic thing are you?
(*My Mother was right, I should've been a plastic surgeon*)
Ok, do you want to do me an enormous favor? Get off the chair.
Fine, call the cops. I'll even wait here while they come. Just don't kick the chair out from under you.
Why? (*Good question*) . . . Do you know that this is the fourth house I've broken into today? It is! I have a problem, a serious problem. I need help, I need jail. You can help . . .
(*Oh no there goes the chair*!)
Wait, no! No-no-no-no-no-no ***no***!
(*Well, that was close*)
Yes, I'm hugging your legs. Yes, my face is in your crotch. I'm gonna slowly, **slowly** lift you up. I need you to untie the rope from around the neck.
Why? (*Oh for the love of . . .*) Because if you don't, you'll make me responsible for your death. Do you want that?
(*Finally*) Good, thank you. | 2014-10-11T20:50:48 | 2014-10-11T20:36:28 | 182 | 44 |
[WP] "So you're saying that these "humans" have 30 colonies in their solar system?" "Yes, and increasing. They don't seem to have the need to colonize habitable planets, they just can colonize these dead planets and moons without a problem." | "Damn, do you even *know* what we had to do to get those colonies going?
"Mars was domes and world houses till we got the focusing mirror built in orbit. Then we had the trouble with getting the final lens into that paper thin atmosphere. It kept itself aloft after that, burning the CaCO3 to CaO and CO2. Then we just had to use air tanks going outside for a thousand years as the plants started up. That's why there's a 80 km canal around Mars' equator. We put it there!
"Venus was a pain in the ass, too - we had to put up another planet-sized mirror to freeze that bitch, so we could chuck it's frozen atmosphere into space. Made use of that stupid atmosphere in our colonies, but damn, that was hard. Redirecting ice from Saturn's rings was comparatively easy.
"But what was really hard was spinning that bitch up. You don't get habitable weather system without at least a ninety hour day. Laying down that superconductor cable around the equator, and then releasing the cloud of microbots in orbit to turn the whole planet into a giant motor - Venus was *hard*.
"The Moon, that was more an accident. Turns out for a body that small, you can hold an atmosphere for about a thousand years, and you only need a few billion tons of gas to support a nominal pressure. Industrial operations mining the surface for the space colonies inadvertently generated that much.
"The colonies, remember? Those paired spinning flowers at the Lagrange Points? They were made from Lunar metals, quartz, and slag, launched by rail gun then assembled in orbit. They're paired to counter each others rotation gyroscopically. Quartz windows to let in the sun, metal frame and mirrors, and slag two meters thick to keep out the radiation. We've got 'em at all the Lagrange points, but L4 and L5 are the most stable.
"Then there's the world-houses we built on Mercury, the mining domes on Io, and Titan for that matter...
"Honestly, you act like finding a place to live is hard. Finding them isn't hard.
"Making them livable, that's hard. And we've gotten good at that. I assume that's why you bastards have abducted me and my crew off the asteroid we were carving out. Well, lay it on me, what the hell kinda world do you need fixed up?" | This is my very first writing prompt. Any critiques and tips would be very much appreciated.
A meeting. In a dark and limitless void. A multicolored spotlight shines on a creature beyond your comprehension. A Booming Voice comes from the Beyond.
"I'm afraid it's terminal."
The creature vibrates in a movement that you would call taking a breath. Its voice has a slight tremble to it.
"How did this happen? How was this missed?"
"It started as just a small spot on one of the smallest planets in one of the smallest solar systems. We did everything we could to prevent it from spreading, to make the surrounding environment as hostile as possible, and yet it's spread to thirty new areas within the system. It's extremely aggressive and shows no signs of slowing down. It doesn't seem to need habitable planets, it's been colonizing dead planets and moons while bringing the necessary supplies from the planet of origin. Already the planet of origin has deteriorated beyond recognition. The other colonies are quickly becoming the same. We've done all we can, now we must act in defense of the rest of the Universe."
The creature shudders and then becomes still.
"How long do we have?"
"A few millenia, give or take. It's going to start spreading to your other systems and once it reaches your outermost edges we will have to retire you to prevent it from spreading to other Galaxies."
The Trembling Voice seems to sink into itself.
"Several billion years, and this is how it ends."
"Our apologies are as vast as the furthest reaches of our Holy Universe. We have done all we can, but we cannot allow this to turn into an outbreak. We shall leave you to your preparations."
The void seemed to expand within itself, somehow creating space between the two creatures in an already limitless vacuity. They shuddered in synchronicity as, unnoticed, a small spot leapt from the Trembling One and latched onto a planet on the Booming One's outermost edges. | 2017-12-07T14:10:39 | 2017-12-07T08:35:59 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] You are happily married and have a 4 year old child with your SO. But when your child starts to develop super powers one day, you have serious questions for your SO who has always seemed to have a boring accounting job. | She was always good to tread carefully on the subject of fathers. She would only let the boy read books and watch television shows where there were two happy parents, not knowing that watching that very thing was what cut the deepest.
So the boy would seek out stories of boys like him - Pokemon, Harry Potter. Of course, she was quick to shut it off or take the book away when she saw this. But one night, she paused, ever so slightly.
“Star Wars was your father’s favorite movie,” she said.
“Really?”
The mother saw that her boy was halfway through, so this one time - and for the rest of his childhood, it would turn out to be this one time - she sat down and watched with him.
“So who is his father?” the boy eventually asked, softly. “And his mother?”
“They’re gone,” the mother said, trying to handle it quickly.
“Is my father gone too?”
She didn’t answer.
\-
Years later, after the boy became a great hero, after he almost single-handedly warded off the Invasion and found a way to counter the Possession, he sat by his mother’s bed, shaking with rage that he was unable to save what was most important to him.
In her final moments, she smiled, like she always did. It was her greatest strength, not just to twist the ends of her lips upward into a smile even when bills were unpaid and loneliness wracked her, but to actually feel the warmth, feel the joy of life once more.
She reached out and squeezed her boy’s hand, alarming him with how weak her grip was. She looked at him openly.
“Will you tell me who he was, mother? I’m sorry to ask you like this...but I have to know.”
She shook her head, ever so slightly, and he understood that the effort to speak would be too much.
A few minutes later, she expired with that same smile on her lips.
But what he would remember, years later, was that right before she did, she had found the strength to whisper, in barely a rasp, “I love you.”
What had stopped her from telling him the truth, even at the very end?
\-
The boy stayed strong, his strength as robust as ever. But over the years he had lost something, whether an edge or a piece of his heart of mind, he didn’t know.
And now he stood across from his greatest enemy, the Gray Man.
“You have great courage, boy,” the Gray Man said. “Your parents must be proud.”
“They’re gone,” the boy said. “But I know my mother is.”
“And your father?”
The boy shook his head. “I have no father.”
“But everyone has a father.”
The boy said nothing.
“I had a son once. But quickly I learned that he was...not like me. Only his mother could take care of him. Because they were alike. Different, from me. Whenever I held the boy in my arms, he would feel like an animal at a zoo that wanted to be anywhere but with me. He would cry, and sob, and beat my chest in desperation.”
The boy continued to catch his breath, readying for what was coming.
“There was only one time he was calm in my arms. One night, I showed him my favorite movie. And although he couldn’t understand, he watched, riveted, and fell softly asleep in my arms. I thought things had changed. But...the next day, when I reached out for him, he left this.” He pointed at the jagged scar on his cheek, the one he was famous for.
But the boy couldn’t have known what was coming.
“We are not so different, boy. Maybe in the end you, too, will find we want the same things, just as your hero Luke did.”
And as the inescapable, horrible truth flashed in his mind, the boy charged at his enemy, and his father at his, and once more they locked themselves in the great embrace of battle.
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | I was sitting at the kitchen table drinking my coffee and answering e-mails from work that piled up in my inbox throughout the night. As I was responding to Karen, an assistant to the big boss in our office, that YES I would be in attendance to Tuesday's meeting, something caught my eye - the cat. Normally the cat runs in and out of my peripheral vision daily, but today was different - the cat was floating. I frantically stood up from my computer and knocked my coffee over in the process. I looked around the room to see what on earth was causing Gus to float through the air and then I saw her, our daughter Odette sitting on the floor giggling and clapping her hands.
"Odette!" I screamed "what is going on with Gus???".
"I'm making him float, mommy!" Odette replied in a rather matter of fact tone as if I was the crazy one.
"Yes, I see that dear, but HOW???"
"With my eyes - just like how daddy does it!" Odette responded giggling again.
At that point I don't remember much else except coming to in my husband's arms. Trevor worked as an accountant in a firm close to home and he was able to come home every day for lunch.
"Hon, what's going on - are you ok???" Trevor asked me with both of his hands on either side of my face.
"I - I - Gus...air...Odette...eyes" I managed to stammer out, still in shock from what I saw earlier. How long had I been out and left my daughter alone? Was it a few minutes, hours, days? I didn't know.
"Odette, is she ok?" I asked my husband.
"Yes, Odette is fine! She's right here". I looked over and Odette was in the living room playing with blocks which I might add were not floating like Gus did which seemed like only moments ago.
"Trevor, I saw Odette do something...with her eyes...to the cat" I stammered afraid of how that would sound to my husband.
"Yes, I know what you are referring to. I was hoping her skills would develop a little later on, but it appears they are forming now" Trevor replied.
"Who...ARE YOU and what is Odette???" I screamed sitting up now fully aware of my surroundings and what I had witnessed.
"Audrey, honey, I wanted to tell you and in time I was going to, but since Odette is forming her abilities now we should talk."
"Yes, we SHOULD!" I shouted. "I need an explanation NOW of what I saw and what you are talking about."
Trevor sighed and began. "When I was young I was really into magic. So much so that I studied levitation day in and day out. One day I found myself in a magic shop that I had never been to before. It was run by a very old magician who possessed the power of magic that I could only dream about. He said he would give me any magical power I wanted and I picked levitation. He told me that this power could be transferred on to any offspring I produced."
"A magician??? I never knew this!!! Then why aren't you world famous? Why did you go into accounting???"
"I got tired of magic tricks and the like, but the levitation power stuck and it did get passed on, hence Odette" Treveor explained to me with my mouth still agape.
"Um, ok, but that still doesn't explain accounting!"
"There's magic in numbers, baby." | 2019-08-23T10:47:43 | 2019-08-23T08:29:08 | 113 | 72 |
[WP] The serial killer confessed to burying the bodies under the house and excavation began. 10, 25, 50 bodies were exhumed and the deeper investigators dug, the more they uncovered. You were called in when they uncovered the rotting remains of a neanderthal. | The man sitting in the interrogation room didn't look like a serial killer at all. He had a clean-shaven face and sat with an elegant posture in the creaky wooden chair. He had deep eyes and a perfect face sure to make any grown woman swoon. Well, that was a lie- he did fit the description of A LOT of serial killers from the past. Charles Manson. Jeffrey Dahmer. Ted Bundy. They were all good-looking.
"So how many bodies did we find so far?"
A grumpy fifty-something-year-old walked into the room adjacent to where the killer sat, behind the stereotypical one-way mirror. He looked at a much younger version of himself, excited to be pursuing justice and exuding the "green behind the ears" aura.
"Well, that's why we called you in. There's a lot more than we initially figured..."
"Stop wasting my time. How many?"
"Over 500 so far."
"...So far?"
"That's not even the oddest part. Some of the bodies are carbon-dated to... 50,000 years ago. We found a neanderthal body."
"Isn't that a coincidence?"
"No. From what we can tell, the body had decayed where it was. He also said that he had been doing this for a long time."
"Okay, so he planted bodies on top of a neanderthal body already there?"
"I thought so too, but the way he died is exactly how the victims died. And we aren't in western Europe, so it would be near impossible to say that this neanderthal victim died here naturally."
They looked at each other in awkward silence and slowly turned to peer at the man, who was grabbing a cigarette from the box that was left on the table next to him. There were so many more questions now that they found evidence of the murders. The old man grunted and walked out and then reappeared as he opened the door to meet the killer.
"Alright. We found the bodies you confessed to but obviously we have some additional questions. How did you kill the neanderthal?"
"Like all the other victims, two stabs in the heart from behind and then one through the C1 and C2 vertebrae."
"No, I mean how is that possible. That would make you at least 50,000 years old."
A small chuckle.
"I wish I were that young."
"How old are you?"
"About 100,000 years old. Actually, tomorrow is my birthday. I'll be 99,993. I know what you are thinking, I am probably crazy. Well, I think anyone would be if they had to kill people for that long."
The detective looked at him with an uncanny glare. The conversation was interestingly amusing but full of crazy. Then the detective signaled through the monitor to kill the recording. After a second, the red light on the camera went off.
"I finally found you. That neanderthal woman was my wife."
"Ah, my condolences to a fellow gifted being. I am truly sorry."
"Trust me, you aren't sorry just yet. It has taken me so long to find you, but you finally made a mistake and after thousands of years- I have you."
A devious and blood-curling smile came across the killer.
"I didn't make any mistakes. I *let* you find me." | I stood over the pit to Tartarus. At least that's what it smelled like.
"So... what are you thinking?" My partner handed me some coffee.
"They're definitely altered. Can't tell how though." I took a sip of that new horrible instant stuff.
"Effect of the land, effect on others, effect of themselves." She said in an almost annoyed voice.
"Time hole, time travelers, or immortal." I stared down that pit. That's a lot of death...
"Which would honestly be the worst here? They never really covered time travel back out."
"Time travel. That's always the worst." I said, barely any hesitation. I threw the cup into the pit, listening carefully past the wind's howling.
"But if they're an immortal. We have to let them go." The kid, damn not really a kid anymore... My partner, she was clearly looking at the bodies.
"It's always about the damn balance." I muttered under my breath and sighed in relief. No light, no telltale ringing. It was thankfully just an average immortal serial killer.
"C'mon. Tests are done. Send the message?" I turned to leave, she stayed, staring at the bodies. She'd never seen the world out of balance. After joining the ranks, getting her extended life, she'd grown up in a pretty stable pair of centuries. She'd still balk at this level of sadism.
Regular officers of the law knew that there was evil in humanity, she'd seen it. But what happens when you extend that life towards infinity? Infinite kindness and infinite horror mix surprisingly well. She didn't know how bad it could get.
"Empty Order." I said, loud enough she could hear.
And after a moment, "Balanced with Empty Chaos." Came the reply.
She got in the drivers seat, and I could tell she was just another step away from humanity.
"I'll buy the food." I said. It's what you're supposed to do.
I heard a rumble. A ringing. And the world grew brighter.
I felt my hair stand on end.
I could feel her eyes on me. 200 years old, and still just a kid.
I felt sorry for her as I dragged her out of the car. Pulling her away towards that light, that ringing, and the smell of centuries being eaten by the grey flames of the pit.
"The balance is broken." I said.
And in a bright flash, I felt my clothes boil, my hair turn to ash, and the entire countryside burning.
A scream rang out. The universe clawing at it's own throat.
The balance was broken and it'd take centuries to repair if we didn't act.
All hail Righteous Order.
All hail Inventive Chaos. | 2022-03-10T06:26:19 | 2022-03-10T06:19:10 | 71 | 26 |
[WP] It is the end of days. God and Lucifer stand before the last human being. You are the first neutral soul who is neither good or evil enough to pass into a afterlife and thus must be judged personally. Unknown to them, you are Death and have come for them instead. | They looked tired, incredibly so. I felt bad for them, I knew what they were going through, I had been going through that same process for ages now. It wasn't the same though, I was built differently. This little hunk of rock where the three of us stood was the last bastion of life in the universe. The crunch had begun a while ago, but to me it seemed like only yesterday.
"You," Lucifer said, chuckling. "You were surprisingly hard to find. This wouldn't have happened a couple of years ago."
"What's time anyways?" I asked, smiling. "A couple of years don't really mean much at this point."
The gorgeous man nodded before glancing up at the sky. It didn't look the way it was supposed to. This planet should've had an atmosphere similar to Earth's, where it all started, but in this moment, as the entire universe engulfed it, it was surrounded by the greatest firework show ever to exist.
"Well," God said, His voice granfatherly yet clearly exhausted. "It's time for you to come with us."
I shook my head.
"The universe is ending, little one," God told me. "There is not much time left for us."
Lucifer's eyes darted towards God, but he didn't say anything. I could tell that the fallen angel was scared. As scared as a mere mortal would've felt. God Himself wasn't scared, he was all-knowing, all-powerful. Well, almost. Much like Lucifer, God didn't know what was going to happen next and that meant that he couldn't control it either.
"There's not much time left," I agreed, sitting down on a rock. "But you're not here for me."
"What do you mean?" God asked.
Lucifer realized who I was first. The nature of his job meant that he was more intimately familiar with what I was. We had never interacted directly, but the cynical and jaded angel knew me as well as anyone. That doesn't mean much, but it was a curious surprise.
"So we are mere mortals after all, then."
God may have not known me as well, but He was no slouch in the deduction department either.
"Huh," he muttered. "I can honestly say I never expected this to happen."
I shrugged slightly. "You guys usually don't."
The two of them looked at each other. "A cycle?"
"Endless," I confirmed.
"So we'll come back?" Lucifer asked.
"No," I said sighing sadly. "Each universe is self contained, infinitely similar and infinitely different from the last."
"That's a paradox," God said, smiling. "So you can't stop this then?"
I shook my head.
The two entities looked at each other. For eons they had been the singular most powerful forces in the entirety of the universe. God had given Lucifer powers that no other angel had ever had. Their mission had gone exactly the way God had planned it to and humanity reached its true potential. It was a damn shame that it had coincided with the end of the universe. A damn shame.
"We did well," God told Lucifer. "I'm proud of you."
"Someone had to be the bad guy," Lucifer replied, tears forming in his eyes.
"It's time," I told them as the planet began to rumble.
"What happens next?" God asked. The irony of that question was lost to no one.
I shrugged. "Even I don't know."
Lucifer cleared his throat. "Let's move this along shall we?"
The two of them looked at each other for a moment before walking towards me. God placed his arm around Lucifer, embracing him like a son for the first time since he had cast him down from Heaven. Lucifer hesitated before returning the gesture, patting God's shoulder twice before closing his eyes.
I approached them and placed my hands in either of their shoulders. An instant was all it took and they were gone. I only had a few more instants before the universe collapsed upon itself. I spent them briefly wondering where the two entities would go after dying. Maybe they would simply cease existing, taking all human souls to the void with them, or maybe they would go to a higher Heaven. It was a mystery that I had long since come to terms with.
"All's well that ends well," I said as the universe exploded outwards yet again. | I am Death.
I am no diety's creation. I am, rather, the equal and opposite reaction compensating for the lusts of lesser beings and I am here to end an era. The poor fools have no idea.
Since the beginning I have reaped what others have sown. I have wiped clean the drawing boards of life's self-proclaimed puppeteers and been the essential cog in their otherworldly machinations. Recently, however, I have enjoyed a taste of reprieve. You see, with these imbeciles using human lives as pawns in their ethereal endgame, I've had very little cleaning up to do. I have taken to simply living among the mortals in this apocalyptic time, which, conveniently, has resulted in this unexpected encounter. Believing me to be one of their creations, they have decided to confront me now, at the end of it all.
With everyone gone, I am called to transcend the mortal realm and am placed before two picturesque figures. They're clearly taking forms that they believe will be familiar to a "human" such as myself, but I see through their skin into the depths of their essence. For now, however, I won't spoil their fun.
"Mortal! As you well know, all of creation has been on the line in recent times. I am your God, standing before you now, ready to end this and welcome you into the gates of Heaven!"
His voice was booming and comforting, like a coming storm that replenishes the farmer's crop. This is, of course, just as he intended.
"Opposite me, is the deceiver himself! A vile and wretched creature that you now have the chance to strike down!"
I look to Lucifer, his beauty is truly a sight to behold and in his eyes I hear the whispers of hope and promises of life without oppressive moral stipulations. He does not speak and yet, I hear all he has to say. Maybe he knows...
"We have reached a stalemate! And now YOU will finish this endless battle!"
In a storm of brimstone and lightening, a large, flaming sword crashes at my feet. God is clearly a sucker for dramatic effect.
"Lift that blade, my son, and cast the last stone."
The flaming sword is lighter than one might imagine, and I feel the power of this weapon coursing around my body as I hold it outward... it's weaker than what I'm used to.
~turn on him ~
Lucifer's whispers traipse through my mind.
~Everything your heart desires... if you will but bow down and worship me...~
He's a clever beast, but it's clear he doesn't know what's really going on...
I turn to face the creator.
"It was always going to end this way... you know...." I say with a lilting tone...
His eyes widen as he begins to comprehend what he thinks I'm about to do. He's clearly not used to being without omniscience.
"You are as arrogant as all the others, though not nearly as theatrical as Zeus..."
I swiftly swipe the blade to the side as if to sling millenia of blood, both innocent and guilty, from the blade. As I do, the fire leaves the weapon and it shifts into my trusted tool. The blade of my scythe gleams and the creators brow furrows as he begins to yell.
"YOU CANNOT DEFY ME! I AM THE ONE TRUE GOD! I AM THE BEGINNING AND THE END. I AM THE ALPHA AND -"
"Ah, ah, ah..." I cut him short. " I am The Omega" and I swiftly cut him down.
I turn to Lucifer just in time to see the smirk of his self confident victory fade into a hollow and forlorn despair.
It is time to usher in a new age.
| 2015-10-19T14:41:33 | 2015-10-19T13:24:49 | 214 | 18 |
[WP] You picked up an injured cat and patched it up overnight. The next morning, you woke up to see a family of witches standing beside your bed, and one of them is holding the injured cat in her arms. That witch said, “My cat wants to adopt you. So you’re now one of us.” | **First time doing a prompt, hopefully you enjoy it!**
I set the little black cat down on the floor of my room she looked around curiously for side-to-side as if to inspect her current surroundings. I chuckled quietly at her slight bewilderment.
“A lot better than that storm drain, ain’t it?” I asked. She looked back at me and let out a soft meow.
I smiled to myself. My parents didn’t take kindly to pets (they didn’t take kindly to much anymore), but when I saw this little furball caught in the storm drain near the playground, I just couldn’t leave her there. No matter what my folks said. It wasn’t easy, especially since I was seven at the time, But with dripping water and much determination, I was able to get her out.
I was interrupted by these thoughts as I felt the little cat rub her head against me with affection. I kneeled down and caressed her fur gently.
“Don’t worry,” I said, “I’ll take care of you, you’ll be safe with me.”
“CLARA! Why is the floor soaking wet?! Get out here, NOW!!!”
I jumped up in fear at the sound of my mother’s voice. I had meant to wipe up the spill that I had made on the floor but must’ve forgotten it on the way inside. My parents were always on edge over this stuff, but imagine if they saw I had brought the cat in.
The cat looked up to me, with wide, almost worried eyes. She could tell that the shouting did not bode well for me. I looked back down to her, trying to muster a reassuring look, not just for her, but for me.
“S-Stay here,” I whispered out nervously. “ Don’t make a sound. It’ll be quick, I hope.”
And with one final pet of her fur, I left the cat alone and went to face my parents, and the consequences for my actions…
**…**
I quietly walked back into the room, with my pajamas on from the laundry, and a rather big bruise on my cheek. The cat looked up from the bed, as her eyes seemed to widen in shock at the sight of me. I ignored her and nonchalantly climbed into bed and sighed.
A tear fell from my eye. It seemed like nothing I ever did was good enough for my parents. Whenever I did something good, they took little or no notice; but when I did something wrong, they were on me like a hawk. Why? Why didn’t they love me? Why was I even born if I was unwanted?
Suddenly I felt the cat nuzzle up to me as if she was trying to comfort me. Not knowing what else to do, I simply squeezed her in a hug, as I sobbed quietly. It was nice to have her. For the first time in a while, it was like someone actually cared, that I wasn’t just another face in the house, as if, they loved me.
Soon, I felt my eyelids begin to droop, and I pulled the cat closer and whispered goodnight. Before I fell completely asleep, I thought I could make out a voice, but I didn’t know whose. Only that they provided me with comfort.
“Don’t worry,” it said, “I’ll take care of you, you’ll be safe with me.” | “Yep, you better get up!” A woman clothed in white dress said with indifference.
“T-This is nonsense!” A youth gazed at the woman with shock as he muttered. “I am not even a woman!”
“You can be a warlock, no?” Another woman who seemed to be younger replied with a mischievous smile.
“Either way, it is not up for us to decide.” The third woman gazed at the small creature that was purring on the young man’s lap.
As if noticing their gazes, the small cat opened his large eyes and meowed twice.
“Yep, it is clear enough.” The woman in white said as she continued. “Hurry up and help him fetch his stuff up.”
“You are one of us now! Let's have a feast tonight!” The younger woman said energetically as she joined his sisters and packed everything she saw.
“This-” The young man opened his mouth with a dumbfounded expression only to close it once again. In the end, he didn’t know what he was going to say.
His gaze finally landed on the small kitten at his lap. She was looking right at him with sparkling eyes.
He would think all of this was a bad joke if the girls didn’t rush into his house from the sky. Even now, the younger one seemed to hover in the air as she leaped from one object to another.
Just when his eyes landed on her, he noticed the object she was holding.
His expression turned gloomy as he asked. “Hey, can you give that to me.”
“Ohh! What is this?” She waved the old book with yellow pages with wonder.
“Some kind of antique but it is important to me.”
Just as she was examining the book, a cold voice rang out.
“Meowww!!”
Upon hearing this, three women froze stiff as they gazed at the small kitten with fear.
The youngest woman hovered towards the boy with sadness and lowered her head. “I was only curious…”
“Meow…”
She beamed sweetly as she said. “I won’t!”
Throwing another glance towards the boy, she muttered. “The book is out of bounds for me… but that will be it.” After giving out a smirk, she returned to her job.
Feeling slightly confused, the young man gazed at the small kitten. He smiled softly as he said “Thanks..” Funny enough, he found himself accepting his new position as he didn’t oppose them. His life was boring enough and he was truly happy with his new friend.
Petting the small cat, he began to ponder on many things and finally made up his mind. He was going to enjoy this new journey! Not that, he had a choice...
Purring with bliss, the cat closed her eyes and began to sleep. Watching his new friend, a smile appeared on his face.
After the work was done, they departed towards their home. | 2019-10-27T04:56:35 | 2019-10-27T02:42:18 | 25 | 18 |
[WP] The narrator realizes they're just words on a page and has an existential breakdown. No other character is aware of this fact. | *The ax crashed into the stump with jarring finality. The ethereal wail that followed only hinted at the agony Isabella felt inside. The last of her strength rushed from her body as the wail is broken by gasping inhalation.*
 
And with that we finish another chapter in this god forsaken book. I honestly don’t know how this keeps happening. My consciousness flickers in and out between words and chapters and books.
 
I once read a story which described what I am feeling perfectly. There was this character, Andy, who found himself driving down an interstate deep in thought. He was consumed by it. The internal dialogue was rather droll but the intensity of his consumption was such that when he broke his reverie, he found himself still driving along the interstate, many miles from where he started but with no recollection as to how he managed to navigate the perils of the road successfully.
 
I find myself doing this very thing, but instead of driving, it is the relaying of these horrible stories. I become cognizant halfway through a chapter discussing the nuances of high school cliques and social circles. The next moment I am monotonously describing the demise of poor Princess Isabella’s stable-hand fling in excruciating detail.
 
For as long as I can remember, these things did not bother me. I had purpose. I found comfort in the act. But now. Now I cannot help but think about the purpose of my purpose. Why am I eternally bound to this performance? And perhaps more importantly, for whose benefit?
 
I accept that the world is a far larger place than I can comprehend, this is a near universal trope in all stories. What I struggle with is what is right in front of me. If I am to play a role in the grand schemes of the cosmos, I am content, but why does that role constantly require me to describe the chest size and perkiness of the female form. What benevolent, all-knowing creator requires this information, particularly when it is often written in such grasping and indelicate ways?
 
I shiver to think about the grand designs of the universe if they are being orchestrated by one so blind. | It was hard speaking publicly about matters important to oneself. But Shiva knew she had to try anyway. Why else? Her traits— of *valour,* honour, tinged with a British accent that was absolutely unable to be heard of save the additional "u's" and improper appropriation of posh English— demanded that she be truthful to herself.
As did the plot, for if she did not speak then the midway point would hang in useless balance, and the *writer, God,* whatever, needed this godforsaken story to hurry on.
Of course, Shiva didn't know she was just words on a page. She sipped her tea as if life was not inherently meaningless— empty!— *ridiculous*.
Shiva stood up, every step purposeful and swept past the courtyard, as if she had any sort of real autonomy whatsoever once she stepped out of her tea room. Her head tilted back and forth, as her eyes wound to find her lover: and oh, it *is* her lover, pretty pink Veronica with her eyes shining *happy.*
Happy, like her existence was not a mere magician's trick.
Happy, as if this fictional relationship were true.
"I love you," Veronica said, pressing a softer kiss to Shiva's cheek. "Get out there. You'll make them all jealous."
Of course Shiva would. Such a fact was pre-determined, already: that was, until Act 3 rolled around and trampled on her false victory.
But how could a character like her know that?
Only the narrator would carry such a burden. Shiva smiled and met Veronica's eyes, dipping her head in a *thank you,* despite the fact that there was nothing to thank, nothing to do, nothing but this cruel, cruel predetermined world.
That only the narrator bore truth of. | 2022-12-26T09:40:47 | 2022-12-26T06:33:24 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] You meet a genie that grants one wish. You wish to go back in time and change your biggest mistake. You get taken back to the time right before you made your wish. | I looked at the genie before me with full conviction through weary eyes. If I only had one wish, I'd use it for a second chance.
"Take me back in time to my biggest mistake, so I can have a second chance at living my life," I told the wispy being hovering before me. He was soft, like a cloud, yet somehow rugged at the same time.
"As you wish," he replied. "May I ask, before you go- what do you believe your biggest mistake is?"
Easy question. "Keeping my son. When the doctors told us how hard it would be to raise him... I wanted to be brave. To feel comviction. I wanted to reaffirm my strength and help him live the best life possible.
"I was horribly wrong."
"And why is that, human?"
"I lost my entire life trying to help him. Sleepless nights, fits where he barely knows who I am. I want my life back. I want another chance to spend my days doing something I love, maybe pick up a better career or just fucking *relax* some nights. I already did it once, and now I want a break."
"I see." The genie snapped its fingers, the cracking sound of lightning resounding through my small home. "May you find peace."
I closed my eyes and felt a lightness take over me, knowing that when I'd open them, it'd all be over. It'd be easy, and fun. But all I saw was his face, floating in the dark of my mind. Smiling about nothing at all. *I wish I could be happy like that.*
When my eyes opened, the genie was still before me. "I don't understand. Was there a glitch?"
"I know not of what you speak, human. Make your wish."
"I made my wish already, take me the fuck back."
"To where? I know not of your wants.
*What is this? Why am I here, if...*
"Tell me your wish, human. Choose wisely."
I went to speak it again, but the words caught in my throat. I saw his face again, not the one he made during a fitful rage, but the one when he calmed down and looked into my eyes afterward.
"I wish I were a better father."
The genie let out a laugh from the deepest portion of its belly. "I cannot grant a wish which has already been granted to you."
With that, he was gone. And in a way, I felt relieved that he was.
-----
^*/r/resonatingfury* | "You have one wish. Consider it carefully. Speak when you've chosen."
I frowned. Wealth? Immortality? Youth? Love? Susie? I haven't seen her since New Year's. We left things in such a bad way, it's no wonder she tried so hard to avoid me. Okay, *I* left things in a bad way. Shouldn't have spent so much time around her sister, fully-clothed or otherwise.
Focus.
I looked up to the genie, who had a look of angry boredom on his face. I wish he wouldn't look at me like that. Genies can read minds, right? He's probably annoyed that I don't have any creative wishes. But Susie... I could make her love me, maybe. Or Anne. I still miss Anne. Beth, too. I think about her a lot when I can't sleep.
So much of my life was spent around these women, and I screwed it up every time. Could the genie fix it? Fix me? I only have one wish to fix everything, what can I ask? Who would make me happiest? Susie? Anne? Beth?
The greedy part of his brain suddenly decided to contribute: your biggest screw-up would be the one that caused the best relationship to end. Simple. Elegant - even the genie would be able to appreciate this.
"I wish to change my biggest mistake." The genie grinned. I suddenly regretted picking up the lamp.
"As you wish!" the genie shouted, His voice grew distant, and I felt my consciousness pushed back through my life, and I could see my past fly before me. There went the genie. There went... no, the genie's still there. Oh. Oh no.
Before I could protest, I felt the words being pulled out of my throat: "I wish you wouldn't look at me like that."
*Fix*. I wish I could *fix* my biggest mistake. What good was changing it? | 2016-09-25T07:03:59 | 2016-09-25T06:46:22 | 425 | 136 |
[WP] Your wife is a vampire with deteriorating health because of her oath to never drink human blood. You are trying to convince her that 100ml from you every month won't hurt you, and that blood loss wasn't the reason you fainted when she sucked your blood few years back. | The wind howled outside, twirling the wind chimes hanging by the window. A frail woman laid on the worn couch, pale as milk. Her blue eyes were transfixed on the metal chimes that were barely hanging on to life, much like her own situation. The only difference was she wasn't alone and the wind was her own doing.
"Please drink it," Kevin begged, holding a blood bag in his hand. He kneeled next to her, parting her greying hair.
"I won't."
"Please. Dalilah, you need to drink something."
"I made a promise. And I won't break my promise."
Kevin sighed. "Why do you have to be so difficult?"
"You knew I was difficult when you married me."
"But this is so excessive. It's not like you are going around town draining everybody. I'm giving you my blood."
She sat up. "And I told you I won't drink it."
"Why did you make that vow? You at least owe me that."
"No I don't."
Kevin shot to his feet and stomped on the ground. "Dammit woman! I won't let you starve yourself to death!"
Dalilah did not react outwardly to his sudden outburst. His face had tears running down and his eyes were piercing. She knew time was running out for her and he could sense it as well. Her heart ached, torn between her husband and her bond. She couldn't satisfy both, but he wasn't going to back down without an answer.
"Fine," Dalilah said. Kevin tossed her the blood bag and she let it land on her stomach. "I'll tell you why I won't drink your blood."
His scowl appeared in an instant, but he said nothing, letting her have the floor.
"Do you remember that night you passed out–"
"You aren't serious? I didn't pass out because of that. I was dehydrated. You can't blame yourself for that," Kevin said, ready to argue her point.
"No. The problem was I loved your blood. More than I thought I could. It was like drinking your very essence. Your loving soul and your tender heart."
"Yesh, next your gonna say it was better than sex." Dalilah didn't say anything, causing his jaw to drop. "What?"
She laughed. Dalilah found it amazing how her man could go from crying to petrified in seconds. There was a temptation to let his mouth stay there a little longer, but he needed some reassurance. "I know. It's that good. And that was the problem. I don't think the next time I will be able to say no to more. So I deny myself. Because I love you."
"You can have more. I just don't want you to die."
"I would rather die than kill you because I couldn't control myself."
"And I can't watch you kill yourself because you won't drink a little blood bag. It's not like you're getting it straight from the tap."
Dalilah couldn't help but chuckle. The image of him as a human beer keg was amusing to her. He put his face up to hers, making it all she could see.
"You understand, though. Don't you?" She asked.
"I do." He pressed his lips to hers, letting his passion take hold.
She kissed him back and he took his shot, pushing his lip against her fangs, cutting him. She tried to pull away, but he did not let her get away, allowing his blood to drip into her. The thunder from outside shook the house and her eyes rolled back into her head, savoring the warm, metallic taste.
He felt his face drain of blood and her fangs digging deeper into his lip. The life was coming back to her and with it her enthusiasm for more blood. His body was no longer his as she rolled off the couch and pinned him to the floor. He moaned in pain, trying to tell her to stop, but she needed a more forceful approach. Kevin dropped his arms to his side and rolled her over, plunging his thumbs into her wrists. Delilah released him, blood dripping from his mouth.
"You feeling better?" Kevin said, licking his lips.
"Why did you do that!"
"You weren't seeing reason."
"I could have killed you. I felt myself losing control."
"If you didn't drink something, you were going to die. I refuse to let you die."
"It was my choice," she struggled under his grip, but he held her down.
"And I don't get a say? Did you even think how your death would affect me?"
She stopped fighting. He was right. She hadn't. Kevin did what he did for her and it wasn't lost on her. He loved her. His chest heaved up and down, tired from their wrestling match. Delilah hated what she did, enjoying what she promised would never happen again, but at least she was alive. And for now, that had to be enough.
"You're right… I didn't… I'm sorry," Delilah said.
Kevin let her go. "Apology accepted. Now drink up the rest of that blood bag. You need to regain your strength."
"Only if you promise never to do that again."
"Deal. Now get to it. And if you're good, we'll play a game of parcheesi."
Delilah laughed. "Really? Your gonna treat me like a child."
"If the shoe fits–"
She punched him in the shoulder. "Go get me a straw then. If your gonna treat me like a child, I'm going to act like one."
"Whatever you say, dear." | The heart isn't ass shaped by coincidence.
Bram Stocker had no choice but to hear his wife's laborious breaths. Every bit of sound in their otherwise dead-quiet home sounded like a casket being dragged against a gravel floor. Bram's heart made up for the too frequent pauses between her gasps by pounding the rest of his body. It was as if the casket had been put down and slammed shut. He had no trouble imagining the corpse of the criminal inside. This empty part of the woods only had room for one murderer.
His life before meeting Tality was one of disappointment, so where would his life return to when she left? She was the Sun, a radiant pureness in his empty life. The women who he once thought was quite repulsive had sucked his his life into one that he wanted to fight for.
A part of him was hurt she didn't feel the same.
His mind drifted through the ebbs of his memories at their early times together. She looked like she had never seen a mirror with her unkempt hair and creepy expressions. He wasn't much better though. His life was life a mess and his looks couldn't have been much better.
He wanted to shift his hand from her cold hands to her mouth, but he knew she had to do it on her accord.
"My dear, my love," he started his arguement again, "I'm on my knees begging you to reconsider." It had been too soon since he was last kneeling in front of her. His proposal and their wedding were too recent for him to ever end his stubborn pleading.
"My dear, my love," Tality said with giggle, "I adore you too much to not listen to what you say."
Tality closed her eyes so she could conserve her strength to keep speaking. After a pause as long as a dead heartbeat, she continued where she left off.
"Don't live in denial, you know I didnt get here from a lack of blood just like I know you didnt faint from me tasting yours. You could have fainted from spending too much time hunting. Maybe it was from not eating enough or from not drinking enough. I may have been tired for the past few weeks but don't think I haven't noticed my plate is always larger than yours."
Bram wanted to interrupt and deny her words but knew it wouldn't do any good.
Tality was a vampire. A creature of darkness that can be killed by the pureness of holy water, the sun, or the silver in silver mirrors. He wasn't embarrassed to admit that he nearly fainted when he saw his wife could levitate. It made him feel better to know her insistance on dates at night weren't because she wanted it to be too dark to see his face. He was, however, absolutley mortified that his first thought was of being her superhero sidekick. That idea and the rest of them went away when Talia started freqently throwing up. The relief of it not being morning sickness turned into horror as she constantly had signs of being being poisoned.
She continued speaking while she waited to fall asleep.
"I can't help but think of when we first met. I was so intrigued by you, Bram. You seemed so kind for such an aggressive man."
Bram moved his left hand to stroke her head.
"I was mad at the world," he said. "I wanted to fight against the world. I just wanted to believe that you could fight by being a kind person."
Bram could feel Talia grip his right hand even tighter.
She whispered, "And all I ever wanted was to believe that you could do that. I admired your kindness, one no vampire could ever have. Every time you helped a someone find a warm bed or made sure someone had food to eat that night, I admired you a little bit more. Before I knew it, my admiration for part of you turned into love for all of you."
Bram didn't consider himself to be kind. Only the least impressive of people could believe they're kind enough. Being a good person was a path to strive everyday for, and the person that encouraged him was dying right next to him. He had seen such a depressing lady turn into a women who's kindness made him feel warm and hopeful.
"Talia, dear. Please don't go to sleep thinking that you're not the purest person I know."
Bram voice was getting increasingly loud, as if it would echo from the hallways into Talia's heart.
"You are my sun in every way, so please just try to fight this! You're so strong, in body and mind. A priest couldn't make water as holy as your soul."
Bram's felt like he was nearly yelling by the end, but he knew it wouldn't be enough.
Talia spoke her last words.
"I am fighting, love. I've been fighting who I am ever since we went on our first date. I want to live a life of no regrets, one where I can chose my life by my convictions instead of my desires. You've taught me t-that... that I could choose my fight."
For just a few seconds, her breath stopped being so scratchy.
"If I died from being pure, then that means I win and that you were in my life. Those two things... they're synonymous to me, my love." | 2022-05-14T20:57:26 | 2022-05-14T17:57:33 | 181 | 32 |
[WP] "I can't believe it! You played us like a fiddle!" "Oh please. Fiddles are actually hard to play. I played you like the kazoos you are." | "The master has failed more times than the beginner has even tried."
It's an important concept, but it hides an even more important point within it.
It is possible (and, in fact, both common and easy) to have made as many mistakes as any grandmaster, and still be an incompetent fool. Willingness to fail is one part of finding success. The other, much harder part, is *learning to fail in a different way each time*.
It's hard. It's frustrating. You take stock of everything, consider the problem before you, tweak and adjust and throw out the parts of your approach that you love, but which are holding you back...and then you fall flat on your face again.
It stings.
There are many who look at the whole process and simply decide not to bother. You can muddle along well enough without ever bothering to really learn anything, if you start from a comfortable-enough position in life. Brute force can overcome when clever tactics fail, its true.
But brute force *combined* with clever tactics works best of all.
In truth, the ten thousand failures you pass on the way to mastery are inevitable. You will meet them, like it or not. Nothing whatsoever you can do about them. What is *not* inevitable is the choice to learn from them, to take vital lessons from each one, to hone and refine your skills, again and again and again and again.
In this way you achieve mastery.
But that takes effort, and causes pain, and it is *so much easier* to just...go along. To try a few things, find something that works, and stick to a narrow rut, never challenging yourself, never growing beyond the techniques you stumbled upon so early in the learning process.
You can live a comfortable life that way.
But it *does* mean that if you ever come face to face with someone who challenged themselves- who tried and failed and *learned*, and then tried again- you tend to get your ass whooped.
Observation is an important part of learning. You watch, and think, and come to understand. You work to see the world as it *is*, not as you wish, want, or expect it to be. Observation is a skill any master will wield quite effectively- how can you learn and grow, if you cannot see the true results of your attempts?
So if you have only a few ways of doing things, only a few basic approaches to the problems you face, then any master can read you like a book. And not a complicated book, either. A kids book, with pictures.
*Big* pictures.
To someone used to reading molecular physics textbooks in Finnish haiku as they flash for a moment on the surface of a lake in a storm, there's really no challenge at all. Notice, plan, act, and the hardest part is reminding yourself that not everyone is trained to your standards, and relegating the part of your brain that insists on a more involved approach to needless vigilance.
Six humans might fight a giant, and be crushed. Six novices might attack a martial artist and not even see the blow that puts them out of the fight.
Six people used to doing nothing unusual, learning nothing in their lives, might lose anything at all to someone with talent and mastery, and not even notice that they have lost.
To play someone like a fiddle is a remark on the skill of the player.
To play someone like a kazoo is a remark on the simplicity of instrument.
So when you feel yourself flinch away from uncomfortable truths, remember to ask yourself what sort of instrument you want to be. | The hostage was bound and gagged in the back of the prisoner transport. Two armored escorts rode in the front, each armed to the gills with various accoutrements of killing.
With each turn, each slow stop and acceleration, the hostage took note. He knew the city like the back of his hand, after all, despite having spent less than a full weekend there. He was *gifted,* some liked to say. Maybe that's the right word. In his mind, however, he liked to think of it as *motivated.*
A paperclip fell from his sleeve and into the palm of his hand. He straightened the aluminum wire and pressed it into his cuffs, depressing the pins and snapping open the restraints.
The hostage removed his blindfold and gag and felt the floor. There should be three consecutive bumps now, since they had just entered a school zone.
*bump*
He pressed the edge of the handcuffs into the door's gap.
*bump*
He applied leverage, careful not to snap the restraint before he could manually unhatch the door.
*bump*
The door nearly threw open, slamming against the sides of the van and alerting the guard, but he caught it in time.
Now it was a waiting game, the tables turning slowly on his captor. He would come out on top, catch them with their pants down.
The brakes of the van squealed as it slowed to halt. They were... By some kind of church, the hostage thought.
One guard, with a shotgun strapped across his chest, threw the door open to see the hostage standing tall before him.
"What the..."
Behind the first guard was the second, his pistol raised... To the back of the first guard's head.
"I think a change of staffing is in order," the former hostage announced.
The guard with the pistol pulled his trigger.
*click*
The chamber was empty.
Without looking, the first guard turned his shotgun around and fired, knocking his parter into two pieces across the churchyard.
"I don't know, Simon," the guard answered, returning his gun to his front. "I think I might make employee of the month."
Simon looked wide eyed at his co-conspirator, now a pair of bloody lumps. A statue of the virgin Mary seemed to gaze down on his torso.
The guard took off his helmet. It was *her.*
"No... I... No, I watched you die! I killed you!" Simon's voice was shrill, his eyes becoming red with rage.
"What can I say? A minor in performing arts plus 14 years Special Operations training..." She shrugged. "I can make anyone believe anything."
Simon's legs shook, and he slumped down into the cold metal seat where he'd been placed less than an hour before.
She stepped up and sat across from him.
"You played us like a fiddle..." his voice was as wispy as was paper. He was defeated. Small.
She laughed wickedly. "Oh please. Fiddles are actually hard to play. I played you like the kazoos you are."
If he heard her, it didn't seem to register. She loaded two shells into her gun.
"Any last words?"
"Tell my--"
*Boom* | 2022-09-12T20:49:50 | 2022-09-12T19:37:56 | 304 | 102 |
[WP] You are a barista in a 24 hour coffee shop. Every night at 3:33am a demon appears for the Dark Lord's latte. | About 5 years ago the owner decided to make this little cafe 24hrs. He figured he could take advantage of the after club crowd and by him I mean my poor ass that got shifted to over night. I was the assistant manager, was getting ready to become the manager, now I run over nights 6 nights a week.
Why do I work 6 nights a week? Well Sunday night we're closed and no one else has ever covered a shift for me and returned for their next shift. The benefit is I now make $60k a year working nights, pouring 3 cups of coffee a night. From 10p - 5a there's only ever 3 customers.
2 of the customers are the local police. I'm pretty sure they would quit if they met my third customer. See she's a demon. Not just any demon but Lucifer herself. Apparently one evening a low level demon came in and tried my latte. Then wouldn't stop raving about it to anyone and everyone in the other place. Luci said it wasn't actually hell, just a different dimension. Tried for weeks to get me to pronounce the name right but my human vocal chords couldn't do it. So I call it the other place.
Luci was wonderful. We spent many nights talking about how Christianity screwed up and got everything wrong. Talked about Luci spending a century trying to get it fixed but apparently being a woman and a demon made it a bit difficult so she said fuck it and let it be.
I hit the brew on the fresh pot 3 minutes ago. It would be ready at exactly 3:33, when Luci walked in. It was getting close to that time, it was 3:32a and I could feel the tingle in the air. Lucifer would be here soon. The clock turned to 3:33 and the coffee stopped brewing, the lights dimmed, the air sizzled with static, and smoke poured in through the door frame.
"Hey love, good to see you. Coffee is ready"
"It doesn't even phase you anymore does it?"
"Why should it. Other than the showy entrance, your my best customer. You pay 50x the rate tip. You're the sole reason the night shift is profitable."
She looked me over, head to toe. "You know flattery will get you everywhere. My offer still stands. Come to the other place, live forever, open a chain of cafes, and be my lover"
She has made this offer once a week for 5 years now. Every time I turned it down.
"Yes" I spoke before I thought. Then it hit me, I said yes. Before I could think, everything turned black. The world became fuzzy, my feet left the ground, and then it stopped. I stood in a cafe, empty except for a table and chair.
"This is all yours Jimmy. Anything you need to make it perfect, is yours. Just ask. I'll see you at home husband."
It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was in the other place, apparently married to Lucifer, and would have my dream cafe. "Well fuck me sideways"
From behind me I heard a gentle whisper "there's time for that later honey" | “The usual?” I ask the shapeless… blob, I suppose is one way to describe it. It still hasn’t given me its name, so I call it Tim. Looks like a Tim.
“Yesss” the cursed sound comes out, like nails on a blackboard. The first time I heard Tim speak, I swear, my ears bled, it’s so awful. I wonder if it’d be inexcusably rude of me to offer throat caramels.
I begin working on that latte - 2 pumps vanilla syrup, extra sweet with cinnamon on top, as Tim peruses the shop, eyes soulless, and never focusing at anything too long, as always.
‘Last Christmas’ plays on the radio, and the shop is empty. Starbucks, on the corner across the street is equally deserted for once. Must be a Christmas miracle. At least the ‘Dark Lord’ supports local businesses- or Tim does. I doubt his boss would allow him to continue taking her coffee from here if she minded though.
I hum along to the radio as I finish the coffee at set it aside. Tim seems pensive, looking outside the window at the Starbucks barista cleaning up an espresso machine. I decide to leave him to his thoughts a little longer.
…
Setting the mocha down at the bar, I grab my macchiato, because gods above I have another three hours until the next girl’s shift starts, and call out;
“ The coffee’s ready - and this is for you, mocha, it’s a sweetish, chocolate caffeinated drink. On the house.”
Tim stares at me, and slowly comes and sits at the barstool I front of me. We drink quietly, and I appreciate the company. Night shifts may be convenient as they deal with less people, but at times like these, I do feel somewhat lonely.
3.55.
“I better gooo… Thank you, Melissssaa.” it goodbyes me, leaving the money for the latte in the counter.
“Happy holidays, Tim.”
The demon walks out to the lamp-lighted pathway, and fades away into the night. I had never given it my name, and for some reason, I know I’d not be seeing Tim again. After all, a dark creature had just felt happy, and the balance had been tweaked. Who knows what would happen now. But for a moment, Tim was happy. It must have been a Christmas miracle.
~fin~
(As you can see I’m already in a holidays mood, and it’s not even November yet.
Also, I’m using the term Christmas miracle very loosely, in the commercialised, secular sense the Christian holiday has taken under capitalism. Unfortunately, Yuletide miracle or Hanukkah miracle don’t have the same sensationalistic value as Christmas miracle.) | 2022-10-30T14:17:00 | 2022-10-30T13:51:26 | 28 | 11 |
[WP] You are born with the ability to stop time, but one day you see something else is moving when you have already stopped time. | Time waits for no man. It's a phrase everyone is familiar with, everyone accepts it. A law we're all bound to. Knowing time is fleeting rich or poor keeps us together. Time and is follower death, the great equalizer.
Well I'm not equal.
I grew up in a lower middle class household with a single parent. I was left to my own devices constantly. The tick tock of the clock as I waited for the crunch of gravel and my Mother's languid footsteps and warm caresses. Those fleeting moments were precious. I wishes they could last forever. One night, after my Mom had to pull a double and missed my recital I screamed and cried and wished for time, more time with her. Even a few moments more between the rush of school and work and sleep.
The next morning she had left me a gift.
"Hanna, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I wanted to give this to you before the recital but I didn't have the time. Well now you do. I love you sweetie!" --Mom
I pulled a gold wrapped package out of the gift bag and ripped off the paper. It was still early morning and the sound of her gently closing my bedroom door woke me. In the dim morning light a silver pocket watch glinted. It looked expensive. Too expensive.... I flipped it over in my hand and saw an engraving on the back in fine letters -- 'Heed not the darkness in the pause'. My mouth twisted as I flipped it back over and opened it. The hands weren't moving. After some groggy fumbling I managed to wind it and pressed it to my ear.
Tick.
Tock
Tick
It stopped. Had I not wound it enough? I lifted it away to look at it. It seemed fine... I put it around my neck and got up to open the shades. The hardwood floor was cool against my bare feet, soon I would need to wear socks to bed. Yawning I pulled the shades open with one hand will the other sloughed the snot out of my eyes. My window overlooked the driveway and the street below. I could see the entire way down to where the street met the main road, it was too early for much traffic. It was perfectly silent. Usually I could at least hear the birds and a few cars rolling by. Maybe it was a slow day. It was cooler after all. Cool for June, like the air had frozen or something. Like everything had stopped...Too many thoughts this early. I opened my eyes properly to see if my Mom's car was still there and I guess I rubbed to hard because two things outside my window looked wrong. Really, really wrong.
My Mom was just getting into her car. Her fluid motion frozen comically as the coffee in her right hand titled violently. She would have spilled it all over the seat if time hadn't frozen. Time had frozen hadn't it? Nothing was moving. The birds paused in mid-air, the jogger in mid-step, the cat in mid-pounce. Oh stop it be serious what do I do now? Run down and kiss her and thank her for the gift now that I had the time?
Time.
I looked down at the watch and recalled the inscription -- 'Heed not the darkness in the pause' It wasn't dark out, it was almost six o clock in the morning. The only darkness was that Shadow quickly moving up the street towards my house as if it had homed in on me. It was really fast. Dark. Human shaped. Huge. Massive. Scary.
I crouched down and closed my eyes and covered my ears. It was so silent I couldn't even hear my breath.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
"Motherfucker I spilled my coffee again" | "I fucking hate Mrs. Song." I think as I snatch the pop quiz paper out of her boney fingers. She has this ridiculous expression on her face. People always look funny when I freeze time. Like when I caught Jaden in the middle of a sneeze, spit and snot floating in front of him. I wonder how many likes did that photo get?
I reach the park in no time -get it?- and go to my favourite cheating-on-exams spot. The weather is nice, it's sunny and warm. There isn't many people around me, just an old couple, a dog walker and some guy jogging. I may not have all the time in the world, time freezing gets the best of you after a while, but I throw the stupid quiz and my book and lay on the grass next to them. I guess I can afford five minutes to chill, I mean it has been a tiring day -no it hasn't- and I deserve this -no I don't-.
I take a deep breath and look around, The dog walker has really nice boobs. A could covers the sun for a couple of seconds, casting a shadow on the beautiful scenery. The world is quite, and the dog walker is definitely a D cup.
"Man this is relaxi-"
wait, WHAT?
I look up so fast I almost crack my neck. I search the sky and... THERE IT IS! A fucking cloud. A motherfucking cloud just floating away, looking all cloudy and chill, like it didn't just defy the laws of.... whatever I have.
I get up and chase after it, stomping on the quiz paper and poking the dog walker's boob on the way -because anything more than that would be disrespectful ya know?- I only chase the damn thing for a couple of blocks when and I'm already out of breath.Time freezing is really wearing me down. I'll just unfreeze it and keep my eyes on the cloud, it'd be easy since it's so sunny today.
I've been running for hours. I'm officially out of town. A police man chased after me on the way asking me why aren't I at school or something so I had to freeze time for a second to lose him. Other than that, I didn't use my ability.
Wait.... waitwaitwaitwait!
What if I'm chasing the wrong fucking could ? they all look the same. And it did get mixed with other clouds during the chase. And what the fuck I'm I doing anyway? chasing it till the end of time?
I stop, catching my breath. Damn I'm tired. I look up and concentrate. Freezing time takes a bit more time when I'm this tired but I can see that truck stop -the driver is picking his nose btw- I look up to the Devil Express -yes I named the cloud, problem?- and to my horror, it stopped.
"Shit!" I scream out loud. I think I'm gonna cry. This sucks. I know that I'll freeze time everyday and walk around with my head raised like an idiot.
But then, the cloud started moving again, kinda like reforming. Does it want to tell me something?
I squint my eyes, trying to figure out what the cloud is doing. Is that a hand? Are those finge-
"WELL FUCK YOU TOO." | 2016-06-19T03:29:06 | 2016-06-19T02:49:02 | 235 | 31 |
[WP] Okay, hear me out: a blind woman, right? A blind woman falls in love with Medusa. She wanders into Medusa’s meadow, Medusa pities her and takes care of her. They then fall in love. <3 | The End.
...oh, you actually wish to hear the tale? Oh, forgive me, most people hear that part and walk away. Most do not wish to hear happy stories of Medusa, nor those ragging against the Gods.
What do I mean?
Well, to summarize a much different tale, Medusa was once a beautiful maiden. So beautiful, that Poseidon--yes, not Zeus, Poseidon--decided that He must lay with her. In a temple. To Athena. Needless to say, Athena was very unpleased, and cursed Medusa, now cursed into her current form of snakes for head and body.
Do not bother yourself on how I know these tales, just know that they are true!
Anyway, the tale you seek begins with a different woman, also unfairly punished by the Gods: Aurelia.
Yes, I *know* it is a common name, Aurelia was a common woman! She is only known, outside this tale, in a small village to the south as a woman of good craft, of excellent sewing. Nothing spectacular, but well in her craft.
*Yes*, this is pertinent to the tale. Can you stop asking questions so that I may tell it?
Anyhow, this woman, Aurelia, sewer of a village to the south. She slighted Hades. How? By saving her father from the grips of death; by denying Hades another soul. You see, her father was befell by a great accident, and errant sythe by a slave sliced open her father's belly. The nearest doctor was in town, and would take far too long to arrive. But Aurelia, with her cunning and her skill, reasoned that she could save her father by stopping the bleeding. She ran to the house, grabbed needle and thread, and *sewed her father shut*. And you know what? *It* **worked**. She was able to save the life of her father, with needle and thread.
Yes, *of course* he was examined by a doctor, and still had to stave off infection. But that's not important to the story. What did I say about interrupting?!
Where was I? Hades! Yes, her father, saved from the grips of Hades. As you can imagine, the God of Death was not pleased by having a mortal best him, and so cursed the woman with blindness, and stole her away from her home to the Meadow of Medusa. There, he reasoned, he would have his soul. Medusa, he postured, would do his dirty work.
And perhaps, had this been a common man, or a common citizen for that matter, that might have happened. But this was Aurelia; sweet, cunning Aurelia. Medusa, aware of a disturbance in her realm, investigated to find the woman, sobbing.
"Why have you come to my realm to mourn?" She yelled, attempting to scare away the mortal. "Begone! Lest I turn you to stone where you lay."
"Perhaps for the better," wailed Aurelia, "For I am cursed, unfairly, by Hades! Never again will I see the smiling face of my father, for He has ripped me away from my home! Never again will I see the shining sun, for He has cursed me to blindness! All for wishing to save my father's life!"
Medusa was stirred by the words she heard; remember, she, too, was once mortal, and was cursed by the the Gods for *Their* hubris. She felt her heart stir, in a way it had not in a long time. Her status shifted, as she slithered her way to the wailing woman. "I, too, was unfairly cursed. Come, follow my voice; I will take you to a place where you may drink of clean water and rest."
Aurelia, struck by the fatigue of mourning, accepted the Gorgon's invitation. There, in the lair of Medusa, she slept and drank of clean water, and ate of stale bread and of wine. She spoke with the Gorgon, learning more of her host, and shared more of her life with the snake-haired beauty. The two became fast friends, though Medusa always requested that they never touch, nor explained her physical conditions.
Such secrecy was not to last, however. Sweet and cunning Aurelia was also curious, you see. She heard sounds of hissing and slithering in the night, and the breaths of her host mimicked the same. In one night, her curiousity was too much, and she silently made her way to Medusa, to lay hands and feel her friend. To feel the touch of another being. She knew not what to expect, bit was pleasantly surprised to find the cool touch of scales.
This, of course, awoke Medusa from her slumber, who shifted away, and sadly said, "You now know the truth. I gather you will leave, now, once shock has worn away."
"Leave?" Replied Aurelia, "Why would I leave one who has been so kind to me? Because you are cursed with features of the snake?" Aurelia shook her head in denial. "Never! You are my friend, Medusa, and no features of yours will change that."
"You do not find my body with disgust?"
"Never!" Aurelia boldly stated. "Snakes are a friend to the farmer, a vital part of the lands we live! Ever since I was a small girl I was taught this, and ever since I have found fascination in the snake!" Aurelia shook her head, and reached out to the voice of her friend. "Please, Medusa, please forgive me for touching you when you said I could not. Now I will ask. Please, Medusa, my dearest friend, would you allow me to feel you, so that I may know the face to the voice I trust most?"
Medusa, shocked by her friend's statements, complied. She allowed the warm mortal hands to feel the body she had been cursed with, to feel the still-beautiful face, to pet the nest of snakes which replaced her hair. It was in this moment that the bonds of love were forged, heated by the coals of trust, the fires of passion, striking the iron of friendship into something greater.
What? Well, yes I suppose I would have some guesses as to how they would bed, but that is not important; what *is* important is the moral, which is this: *love is stronger than any curse, any failing, and any God*.
Who am I, to know such a tale? Ah, I am but a humble servant to the strongest God of all: Aphrodite. | “Then they fall in love!” Heather finished.
Sarah shook her head, “That can’t be the ending. Not every relationship is like you and Jess.”
Heather tilted her head, “What do you mean? They get to know each other and have a happy ever after, what’s wrong with that? And Jess and I are not together, stopping joking about that!”
Sarah sighed, “It doesn’t work like that. The woman would eventually start to feel around and find a bunch of statues of people. Also, Jess is totally into you, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
“But the blind woman has no way of knowing that they aren’t just normal people. And I guess I just hadn’t noticed Jess was interested, my eyes were elsewhere.”
“Whatever, back to the story. Perhaps not at first, she wouldn’t be suspicious, but as the collection grew, she would begin to develop theories. Then when she goes to confront Medusa and she dodges the question, tensions ensue.”
“But she’d see that those petrifications weren’t Medusa’s fault. That her fear of hurting anyone is the reason why she’s a recluse.”
“Though not yet. You see, one day she wanders away from the grove. She gets a little lost but finds her way to a nearby city and hears all the bad rumors about Medusa. Then when a valiant knight asks her where she came from, the blind woman will explain that she came from the grove. The knight will think that Medusa kidnapped her and will go to confront Medusa. When the three confront each other, tensions are at a high.”
“Ooo! I like where this is going. Since the knight knows the rumors, she sees Medusa through a mirror and is enchanted by her beauty. She already thought that the blind woman was pretty and wanted to prove her heroism to her to win her over, and once she finds out Medusa and the blind woman are dating… they all become a thruple!” Heather giggled and winked at Sarah.
Sarah blinked, “Wait what? That’s not where I was going to take the story at all. The knight would be petrified by Medusa and the blind woman would be furious at her. But then, at night, she hears Medusa praying to the gods for all the people she had petrified and is working on a cure.”
“But a thruple is so much better!” Heather pouted, leaning on Sarah, then her eyes lit up, “Wait, we can combine these two ideas! Before they have a chance to become a thruple, the knight freezes, but then the blind woman helps Medusa find a cure to petrification because her dad was an alchemist.”
Heather smiled, “Hmmm… this could be interesting. But… one of the ingredients they need to cure petrification is the heart of a Hydra! For plot purposes let’s say you need all your eyes directed at Medusa for petrification to work, so the Hydra, with five heads, isn’t likely that they’ll be petrified.”
“A blind woman and a Medusa with a useless power against the Hydra, how could they ever hope to win?” Heather leaned forward, watching Sarah’s beautiful blue eyes as she told the story with an orator’s fervor.
“That’s where the statues come in. They position them all so it looks like an army flanking the Hydra on all sides, backing them to the edge of a cliff, tumbling off and defeating them!”
“Genius!” Heather beamed and scooted closer to Sarah, “Now with the heart, they can finally cure everyone!”
“Not so fast. The knight still thinks Medusa is evil, it was the blind woman who administered her the potion so Medusa wouldn’t petrify anyone again. So she goes to confront Medusa.”
Heather grinned, “So the blind woman tries to stop them from fighting, and in the process, the knight accidentally looks directly into Sarah’s eyes. She doesn’t freeze, because you see the antidote makes them immune, instead finding beauty in them.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow, “Sarah’s eyes?”
Heather blushed, “Um.. I meant Medusa, sorry.”
Sarah giggled, “That makes a lot more sense, so then what happens?”
Heather winced, “I’m not sure, I was hoping you would finish it.”
Sarah chuckled, “Oh come on, I liked where you were taking the story. Give it a try.”
Heather nodded, taking a deep breath, “Alright, so after that… the knight confesses her feelings for the blind woman, and the blind woman explains she’s already with Sarah.. I mean Medusa..”
Sarah tilted her head, “That’s the second time you confused me for Medusa. Is there something I should know?”
Heather gulped, “I should probably name the characters, it’ll be less confusing. The knight is named Jess and the blind woman is named Heather.”
“Those names are also familiar….”
Heather didn’t stop, “The knight understands, and the blind woman and Medusa um.. well, you can finish it.”
Sarah scratched her head, starting to understand, “So you don’t like Jess?”
Heather shook her head, “No, I like someone else…” She gazed into Sarah’s eyes hopefully.
Sarah blushed, “We uh.. haven’t um.. finished the story. So after the knight leaves Medusa smiles, happy that the blind woman didn’t choose the knight, and asks what she’s doing Friday night.”
Heather smiled, “She’s free, and likes movies. Especially Rom-Coms.” | 2022-04-29T11:15:28 | 2022-04-29T10:31:28 | 184 | 85 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | "Dad?"
"Dad are you ok?"
I stood there speechless for what felt like forever. Up until this moment my life had been what most would call perfect. A loving, caring wife. An adoring son. The irony that the gift from his last Father's Day that brought joy to my heart is now the source of this terrible anguish.
My wife and I have been together for 13 years, and for the most part we've had a wonderful relationship. The spark is still alive and well, but early on we went through a really rough patch. I was working a ton of late nights, she felt neglected and the spark was fading. She decided to go stay with her mother for a while, we didn't talk for almost a month. Well that was all the wake up call I needed.
It took a lot of work but we began "dating" each other again and found that groove again. In fact, things were the best they'd ever been. It wasn't long after Ethan was born. She had some complications during labor and the doctors thought we might actually lose both of them, but the good man upstairs was gracious, and they both pulled through. I'm a blessed man, and I thank my lucky stars every day for them, and do everything I can to show my appreciation to them in as many ways as possible.
So when I got a text this morning about this stuff with the "#1 Dad" mugs actually displaying a true ranking didn't really have me that worried, but standing here now I can honestly say that I didn't see this coming. Each word cutting deeper than the last.. "You Are Not The Father." | And when I went downstairs to make my morning coffee i didn't look twice at my mug, I'm always number one so why would it be different today? My wife comes down and points out I have a new mug, "no this is the same mug I use everyday." "Then why does it say #666?" Confused and worried I look at my mug, in a panic I shout to my children to come down. "Did you guys do this as a joke?!?" They seemed as confused as I did.
I decided to leave it alone for now and went outside to water the lawn. I saw jimmy out there doing the same, he seemed distraught. "Jimmy what's wrong?" "One of the kids must be playing a joke on me, they changed the number on my mug, but won't be honest about it." "Yeah, what number did they put? My kids did the same to mine." "65,381. What about you?" "I got 666." "Well that's not ominous at all."
Finished with the yard I had to go to work, driving there all I could think was maybe it's because I'm a beast. | 2017-06-11T10:22:32 | 2017-06-11T10:13:29 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] Everytime you think of a funny joke, this girl in your class always laughs, you chalk it up to coincidence but you think to yourself, "If you can read my mind, slap the table three times" the the girl looks over at you, stares right into your eyes, and slowly slaps the table two times. | Twice she rapped the desk and then held her hand as if to rap it a third time before smirking and grabbing her pen instead.
Did she read minds, if she did she was keen to keep all the power in our particular dynamic to herself and not let me know.
I tried closing my eyes for a moment and thought of all the most disgusting things I’d seen on the forum. Parasites in eyes, spots being squeezed under magnification. Worms crawling out the bodies of dead insects. I looked up and if anything phased her she didn’t show it.
I decided to ignore it and keep my mind as empty as possible by simply repeating back to myself the lecturers words.
The lecture ended and I gathered my stuff and headed for the door, doing my best to not look at the girl and fill my head with mundane thoughts such as what the cafeteria might be serving.
Just as I passed the desk she slammed her hand down on it and made me jump which in turn made her laugh. I ran from the class, before I could think anything about her.
The next day she wasn’t there at the lecture and she was absent for weeks after. I had begun to feel safe and put the strange woman out of my mind until one day, wandering into the lecture hall with my mind on other things I passed a desk and the girl sitting at it rapped on it three times.
The lecture seemed to draw out for hours and I took nothing in, I was so focused on keeping my head clear so it could not be violated.
When the university bell rang the hour and the lecturer wished us a good weekend I chose to keep my seat, doing my best to salvage something out of my notes while any of it was fresh in my mind. I tried not to betray with my thoughts that I just didn’t want to walk past ‘her’ desk.
I was so focused on my task I nearly jumped out of my skin when a slender hand slapped the desk three times next to me.
I looked up and met her eyes for the first time since that morning lecture, weeks before. They were a pale chromatic grey that had hints of blue and green. They were really quite striking and I cursed myself for thinking it ‘out loud’ when she smiled in response to the thought.
“Thank you.” She said, her voice was quiet almost a whisper but I understood it almost as if she had thought it at me while she spoke.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I did.” She replied and I realised as she did she was slurring some of the words as if she doesn’t often speak out loud.
“I’m deaf,” she explained, “My name is Jeanie. I’m sorry for teasing you, I don’t mean to read your mind, it’s the only way I can hear the lecturer but your thoughts are so loud, they make me laugh and distract me.”
“I’m sorry I guess,” I relied, “so are you reading my mind now?”
“Only your surface thoughts and only because we are talking,” she smiled.
“Did you just come over to apologise for creeping me out?” I asked, making no effort to mask the idea of sitting opposite this strange girl with the pretty eyes, drinking tea and getting to know each other.
“That would be lovely, but I drink chai latte not tea,” she replied with a smile. | You have become conscious of your actions but you can't stop thinking about the connection. She is smilling and enjoying going over your expressions and thoughts. You are contemplating how is it possible. She is giggling over your thought process. You haven't been near to her anytime before. You have never talked to her or crossed path with her.
After thinking of approaching her, you gather your courage to go near her.And she nods, you feel a sudden wave of energy, a destructive aura, sudden head ache. Like somebody is pinching you from inside the skull. It goes away quickly. You have a feeling that this is bad. You are just a couple of steps ahead and she whispers, "now, I can speak in your mind, come closer. Come and touch me, and I will tell you the secret". You are not able to handle yourself. Before you know it, you are just a couple of steps away and your hands and legs aren't understanding you. It feels like they have their own thought process. You have lost the ability to control your body. Her grin grows wider, and this is the first time you notice she has blue eyes and beautiful cheeks. She is pretty as flower.
She stands, and takes your hand. You follow her lead. She says, " I have been waiting for myself to turn 18, do you know it's my birthday today". She makes you wish her Happy Birthday. You are now on the empty playground and under the tree, you feel better. You both lie down, cuddling into each other She asks for your permission to kiss. And you oblige.
You have never felt this level of happiness before. It feels bliss. It is like rain after the hot humid drought. It feels like you have been thirsty from birth and her lips are like the river. She asks "do you want to have happy feelings like this and be my slave for rest of your life or you want forget this happened and continue your life? I am not going to manipulate your thoughts and you will have to decide yourself"
This is first time you are not mesmerized and you can think properly. But in her arms, and staring into those blue eyes, you want to stay in that moment and not think anything. You have thousands questions coming in and She says "I can still feel your thoughts. You have to make a decision now, come with me as my slave, you will be always happy or continue rest of your life with no memory of this incident"
You decide to chose her, you have chosen her and she kisses you. It is like a sweet delicious immoral candy. You both starting to remove your clothes. Naked, she says "this is the final embrace and you when you let go, you will lose your consciousness. You will be part of me." And she embraces you.
She answer all your questions. You break apart and with a jolt you let go of her. | 2021-09-07T01:51:39 | 2021-09-06T23:08:48 | 81 | 27 |
[WP] France is now illegal | “Hon hon hon oui oui baguette,” I whispered the secret code in the ears of the man in front of me. He looked just like any proper Englishmen, being in a double-chested suit and holding an umbrella and all, but we both knew better. We both knew that in his heart, he would always be French.
“Hon hon hon oui oui baguette,” he replied. “What are you after?”
“Do you have a fresh stick?” I asked.
“Oui,” He looked both ways of the alley before pulling out the sacred stick of goodness from the body of his umbrella. He then ripped off a palm-sized bit and handed it to me. “This is all I can give you.”
“Are you joking me? I will pay for all of it!”
“This is my only supply left. It’s trying times, mon ami, and we need to share the resources out between everyone.”
I got a bit angry at that. What a lier, he just wanted it all for himself! I snatched he whole loads from his hand.
“You c-“
Suddenly there were shoutings and I realised a man in police uniform were running towards us, pointing at the stick of bread in my hand.
We both tried to leg it but the police were just too fast for us. The police was charging a me like a raging bull.
I panicked. I used only thing I had in hand as a weapon and started blinding thrashing around with the baguette.
When I finally opened my eyes, I was shocked. The police was down on the floor, a pool of blood spreading from his head. I looked at my hand and in it held a bloodstained stick. My gaze met the dealer’s, realisation slowly dawning on us of what happened.
I just beat a police to death with a baguette. | Damn baguettes.
I hate baguettes. They are so despicable.
Look at them, those baked goods make me so mad. I feel an anger boiling up inside me, welling up until I am fit to burst, fit to explode. The last time I was in a French bakery I got so angry that I shattered the window by kicking it with my full force, and unfortunately I got banned from the establishment.
Why would they ban me? Huh? I didn’t do anything illegal. These French fools, don’t even know the law.
Come on, who likes them? Who!? They are so irritating, so stupidly exhausting to witness and to be around.
I also hate art, what good is art!? None, I tell you, none at all.
And I hate those stupid hats, those stupid hats which look like aubergines, which all the stupid artists where and it just makes me so goddamn angry! So, so angry.
Did I mention I hate Paris? I hate that too. It’s so expensive and so cruelly monotonous and so terrible, it just slights me, it just insults me in every way and intrudes on my personal beliefs.
That’s why when I became president of Uzbekistan, I banned France.
Yay.
————————————————————
The author of this story loves baguettes, France, Paris, and those artisan hats. And art.
Disclaimer over. | 2018-07-27T10:14:23 | 2018-07-27T08:37:34 | 563 | 28 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a test has been created to eliminate 90% of the worlds population. You are the first to take this test. | I'd spent so long anticipating what this test would comprise of, and as I sat alone in the examination room, I was still none the wiser.
The booklet placed squarely on the small desk, I glance from the printed front sheet, to my surroundings, and back again.
I close my eyes and sigh, head dropping down, before I open my eyes again and force myself to look around again. Three doors, the entrance in which I came in, a door marked "Pass", and a door marked "Fail".
A clock is the only thing adorning the otherwise desolate walls, slowly ticking down to the official start time of 0900, each click of the second hand filling the room with an emphasised echo.
I sigh again, and choose to spend the final two minutes checking the few instructions on the front page. The usual.
'You may not begin until the allotted time'
'You have one hour to complete the examination'
The entrance door opens and the invigilator walks in. I look up to share a glance, their eyes stoney cold, before again focusing on the rules.
'All answers must be written in black ink'
I look down at my pencil.......
"Shit....."
| The newest form of virtual reality is beyond even our wildest imaginations. Not only can we interact with one another, but we can actually feel one another. Well, at least feel as though we can. The population has grown exponentially over the last several decades and we're told over and over again how a test is coming, but we've yet to see it. The free tech is just a bonus. For every hour I spend living my life in VR, I can earn credits for all sorts of mods. They've got all the kinks worked out; food source, intake and out-take. The service is free - first thing the government ever got right. Anyway, I love it here, nice meeting you - enjoy! | 2016-06-11T10:11:10 | 2016-06-11T09:34:45 | 187 | 18 |
[WP] As a person goes through his life, he is given three options at the end of each day, continue, restart day, or restart life. He has just lived through the worst day of his life. | After hours and hours of lying my head on my pillow, I finally fall asleep. This is the part of my day that I was most looking forward to. I finally was gonna tell Jim to restart my day.
There was my first breakup, which felt like it lasted an eternity. I moved forward.
The time I lost my first job after the recession. I moved forward.
This was too much though. I worked so hard to seal up this job, and to lose it over freaking out at a meeting – I fucked up. I truly did. And then to see my shallow bitch of a wife walk out the door when she found out what happened just wasn’t right. God forbid her husband loses two jobs. There’s 12 years down the drain.
Whats next? Call up my wealthy brother and ask him for more money? Guess the kids aren't going to summer camp. Let's not even mention divorce proceedings. This day has to be reset.
But I’m here. Time to make things right again. I’ll keep my cool at the meeting next time. I see Jim approach. Its strange how I’ve seen him every day for the past 42 years and he still looks the exact same. When I was too young to comprehend my options he still helped me out.
“Guessing you’re gonna want to continue?”
“I’m thinking otherwise,” I say. I see Jim’s face fall into despair.
“You sure about this? Which one?” He says, his voice showing sadness.
“Just the day. I’m gonna make it right.”
“You know, continuing might be what’s best. Just put this behind you and move forward,” he said, as if this day was just any other.
“Jim, don’t tell me what to do. I need to reset it. I need to make this right.”
“You sure?” He asked, showing signs of just giving up.
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
“Dave, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I hate this job. You don’t know how much I do.”
This wasn’t what I expected. “What do you mean?”
“It’s just like your breakup with Jessica. This is your 754th reset of this day. Your breakup day only lasted 753. Please try to remember this conversation this time around.”
I hear my wife's alarm wake me up. Today was the day I've been waiting for -- my huge meeting with our biggest client. Time for me to knock it out of the park.
| Each day is the same. The darkness, the dampness, the lack of air my lungs suffer, although I don't need to breath.
I had a life once. I had children. I had wives. I had a kingdom. Sometimes I dream I still sit on my golden throne, my empire layed at my feet and the sun god benevolently watching over me and my people. I used to be the ruler of the greatest civilisation that ever walked the earth. Then one day I got sick, and the next I woke up here, in this place where I can't even tell if my eyes are open or closed.
The green skinned man looks at me with pity. I once prayed to him. He assures me I'm still alive.
"You lived one more day, pharaoh." he says. Then "What will you chose today, I wonder."
And then he lets me chose: go on like this, repeat the day or repeat the life. I thought the middle one was a joke. The last is an option I can only take once.
I don't ask why can't I die. I know. It was the drought. The priests prophesied it would last decades. They said the gods were angry. They said his fertile lands would turn into deserts. I knew then that the gods wanted sacrifices. Animals wouldn't be enough, I was sure of it. So the blood of my subjects did what the rain should have done. It fertilised the earth. It took the lives of one third of my people. I saved them.
"Will I be saved one day," I ask although I expect no answer. I ask that every day. Why should today be any different?
He just looks at me waiting for an answer. I must keep him from important things. Godly things.
I should chose to repeat the life. Let the drought kill them all. But I've already came this far, and my dreams still comfort me in the darkness.
"Continue" I say and hope that one day someone will once again open the doors of my tomb.
------
-192 | 2014-07-17T18:32:56 | 2014-07-17T17:29:35 | 274 | 121 |
[WP] The attempted assassination of a human dignitary at a galactic summit goes awry. Turns out, many of the conventional toxins in an alien assassin's repertoire include compounds like caffeine, theobromine and capsaicin; lethal to many species, but... less than effective on humans. | At first, it was entertaining. A meeting of diplomats, gathering and sharing gifts. A few too obvious looks and startled expressions.
It was innocent enough to begin with. A drink, supposedly a local delicacy. Yet it felt so much like an espresso that I could have sworn that Andromorph was from New Jersey. He even had the accent. Or maybe that was just the universal translator.
The looks he gave me after I finished it without blinking was, to say the least, unnerving. As if he didn't expect me to enjoy it as much.
Next was the Flagellians. They offered me a golden brown liquid that looked, smelled and tasted like a good Malt Whisky. Those guys quickly became my fastest friends. Especially after I quickly organised a trade deal for a few million units of the stuff. They were awful concerned about openly discussing it, but I made sure they knew I understood. Earth had its own prohibitions, after all.
The Andorians and Belvitiands were less welcoming. They offered me a platter of meats that, while appearing entirely vile, actually turned out to be perfectly seasoned strips of what they called "Interfectorem Cibum". When I coughed and hacked at the first bite, yet still went in for seconds, exclaiming "That's sone killer seasoning!" I swear they nearly attacked me on the spot.
It was the Pandorians, though, that nearly killed me. They, at least, had the decency to be apologetic when my throat swelled and bulged, blocking my breathing. In my defence, they did share the dish with me, the bread the delicious, and I savoured every bite.
Until, that is, they mentioned that we had a similar dish on earth.
Never had I cursed the invention of pecan bread more than I had in that moment. | It was the perfect plan to kill the human dignitary.
I carefully grounded the leafs wearing protective gloves and a respirator to prevent my own death. Nobody could survive that much of the dangerous tea leafs.
Now how to best disguise the poison that would be this creature's end. As I quickly looked at the available ah yes the delicious sweetness of the tetrodotoxin would disguise the taste of the tea after it was brewed in water.
It was quite the delicacy and their was no way the human would be able to turn it down. This human would pay for forgetting to tip me.
As I delivered the drink I sat it down in front of the Human who ignored my presence as he laughed at a joke told by a Bunnerian dignitary.
I watched as they drank the poison
I watched as the panic spread over them
I watched as they gasped trying to breathe
I listened as their heart beat it last feeble attempt.
As they laid motionless
As the Bunnerian dignitary tried to revive the Human
As the Favaustian dignitary looked in my direction
As the Favaustian shouted pointing at me
As the restraints were applied to my 8 tentacles
I never once looked away with my smiling face even as they placed me in the air cruiser
I had gotten justice for myself and my fellow server's.
For all the insults and dismissive gestures
For the complaining and trolling | 2021-06-12T15:57:52 | 2021-06-12T11:38:22 | 490 | 114 |
[WP] A man walks through a TSA checkpoint at an airport and is sent back to September 10th 2001. He knows he must act quick, but he is having trouble trusting his own sanity. | James rubbed his eyes, the flash had been so bright.
"Sir, are you ok? The woman said.
"Uh, yes, I think so." James looked around. The backscatter machine he had just been in was gone. He stood there, shoeless in the lobby of JFK. Looking up, he saw a man on the bench ahead, reading the paper. Mayoral Primary Today for Bloomberg Opponent. James, looked again in disbelief.
He dashed at the paper and landed with a thud on the floor in his socks. Blood from his bitten lip seeped around his mouths edges. Beige thread drifted from the tear at the knee. The man on the bench recoiled in horror as James snatched the paper from him. Shaking, he read it.
"What's a matter with you?" The man said.
"What is this, is this some kind of joke? Where's homeland security? Where are the machines?"
"You're out of you mind guy." Hushed whispers from passersby gave James words like 'security', 'drunk' and 'bum'. He ran out the doors, shoeless, beltless, bleeding and torn. Fumbling at his pockets he found no keys, no wallet and no phone that wouldn't be able to connect anywhere. Jet planes roared in the sky and taxis honked as he shambled across the street and began to run home to brooklyn. His tie was tight and he cast it off. Sweat pooled under his arms leaving stains on his shirt. His hair blew in the wind as he ran five miles home.
To look in the window and see himself there, eating dinner with his wife and infant son, their daughter five years away. James sobbed, because he knew he was not mad.
As midnight came, James found himself outside, on the streets with the other bums, begging for quarters, his bloodied feet covered in rags. By seven AM he had two dollars.
The metal snake of the pay phone coiled up to the black head James held to his ear as he slowly dropped the quarters into the slot. It was eight fifteen AM now. The sunlight twinkled on the beautiful morning.
"Hello, World Trade Center, front desk"
"There are two large bombs, one in each tower. They will explode in half an hour. This is not a joke. Evacuate now. Allah Akbar."
With a thunk he hung up the receiver, bought a coffee from a cart, and began to shuffle his new hobo walk southward. He could make it to the towers by 845. Nobody notices bums. He could walk right up to them and just let go. | The light was a blinding blue. Comfortable and warm, simultaneously setting off every alarm bell in my psyche.
I awoke? Became? I still have no words for the odd transition. Yet, there I was one moment. Shoes off, belt off, attempting to explain my tools and equipment and why they had to be carried on. I was taking the prototype to Shantow, Singapore. It had to remain with me.
The next nanosecond I was sitting by Terminal 3145 calmly in my seat. It dawned on me I was waiting for a boarding call to flight DAL2443 from Atlanta, changeover at the Berkley Superhub for the Transpacific Maglev.
At the forefront of my thought, screaming, "Long jaunt, Dad".
I realized the date due to the schedule display and my laptop had morphed into a Toughbook from May 2000. I stared at the date on the flight schedule for what amounts to my entire lifetime. The 5 stages of grief compressed into 5 minutes. It was 08:12 when I started considering options.
I thought about approaching an official. I thought about calling the FAA. 22 seconds later I found myself at the counter, briefcase open. The ticket agent walked up and asked if I needed further help. "No", I said as I gently rotated an esoteric collection of dials, lights, probes, and gauges into her view. I hesiteted before speaking for the briefest moment.
Stern faced and with much resolve. A mere facsimile of an alpha personality, I spoke.
"This is a weapon. There are currently 73 in flight at this moment. You will now call your superior. Tell them what you see here. Implore them to call their bosses and ground everything with wings or rotors. You have 75 seconds."
It's 2024 now. I've spent the last 24 or so years in Gitmo. I know it's unbelievable. It is to me, even now. My prototype was taken and never returned. However, 20 years is a long time to think about the next one.
I'd like to thank Ed Snowden, Chelsea Manning, and Johhny Cash for leading the fight to release me from prison. | 2014-06-13T10:52:21 | 2014-06-13T10:42:36 | 138 | 40 |
[WP] You're a common goblin who has, against all odds, slain the hero of the story. | Hero jump high. Hero jump far. Hero lead Crusade. Hero armor shiny. Hero crash into goblin and kobolds, orcs and ogres. Into Horde. Bright flash of light. Gold moons fly out from Hero sword, slice through many. See Hero grab ogre and toss in air with one hand. Pain. Fear behind. Warlords whip Horde forward. I scream. I run. I charge. Light shine in eyes. Goblin in front split in two. I shut eyes. Hold spear forward. Spear is not special. Crooked stick with sharp bone tip. I stumble.
I not fall. Spear sink into something soft. Armies go silent. I open eyes. Bone tip in Hero. In between armor. Hero tall. Hero bleed. Spit up blood. Feel air throb. Air push away Horde and Crusade. I float in air with Hero. Start spin. I scared. Fear magic. I try to crawl back. Not happen. Arms and legs flail. We high in air. We explode.
I land on my feet, one knee touching the ground to cushion my fall. I glance around carefully but the Hero's body was nowhere to be seen. I slowly stand back up, rising, rising higher than I've ever been before. I can see the tops of my fellow goblins' heads now. I look down at myself and discover I have changed, gloriously. I prod myself with newly dexterous fingers. I'm taller and my skin is harder now, darkened green over my chest, arms and legs, with only lighter skin around my joints as I flex my body. I wipe my face and head in astonishment and notice my face is smooth and no longer crude and angular, and I now have flowing locks of jet black hair. My thoughts seem clearer now too, with only awkward half statements lingering in my memory.
I look at my spear now, held firmly in my other hand. It has changed into a mighty halberd. The spear's haft is straight now, its polished surface gleams in the sunlight. It feels light, yet strong, its fibers twisted and braided and I somehow know it is stronger than steel. And the head. A sweeping blade curves and arcs sinuously like a flame, emanating purple waves of power. I guess...I'm the Hero now?
Yet, as I now cast my gaze over both the assembled armies of the Crusade and Horde, I realize that I am not the only one to make this conclusion. Worse yet, in their eyes, in all of their eyes, I see greed. The desire for power. The revelation that the Hero is mortal, and his power can be passed on. This does not bode well for me.
What can I do? I run, jump and soar through the air, again and again. Spears, arrows and blasts of magic from all sides greet my flight. I swat them away with my halberd, skillfully wielded in new found expertise. Swords, axes and teeth await my every landing. Their thirst for my blood remain unslaked.
They are no match for me. But then, they don't have to be. I certainly wasn't when I killed the Hero. I continue to flee as both armies resume killing each other even as they try to hunt me down. What life awaits me now? | Of course, I’ll never tell of how the hero defeated the giant mountain dragon, letting it fall to its death, that left him weakened. Of course, I’ll never tell of how his final breath was drawn before I let the spear the impaled his chest loose from my hand while hiding behind the cover of the trees. That is not a hero’s story.
I followed the mountain trail because I was not given any duties. The builders were building, the scavengers scavenging, and me? Nothing. They don’t trust me with anything. For years the goblin horde has scoffed and shunned me. I am but a lowly pawn. Days and weeks pass without an opportunity to prove myself. I am small. I am weak.
But today will be different. They will cheer my name, they will sing songs of Grebar the Human Slayer. They will call me the Master of Spear. I will sit on a throne of deer and bear skins. The kingdom will be mine.
Halnor the Beast was slain by this human days ago. He was a reknowned hero of our village with no equal. Stories have been told of the fight that lasted hours. They say the human cheated, as they always do. They say he used magic to burn Halnor alive.
I stared at the hero, he lied on his side in the dirt. The spear made a clean wound through him. Perhaps I am not such a terrible shot.
Wary of the dangers that could lurk on this mountain, I quickly shuffled to the dead human. His pockets contained gold and various rings and weapons. Gold, I thought. Gold would make the villagers idolize me.
I put whatever my small frame can carry in my sack and head back down on the trail. Imagine all their faces turn from shame and embarrassment to pride and jealousy. That is the dream.
It is almost dusk. I’ve been on the road for only a few minutes but the night comes quick. The village is only strides away.
A pain stabs my right arm. I stumble and see an arrow lodged deep. I was careless.
Sitting miserably, I still assume I could get out of this alive. And when I do, the wound will serve only as a testament to my bravery in slaying the human.
My eyes widen. I don’t believe what I see. The same human that was killed only minutes ago is walking toward me. There is no wound, no signs of damage, nothing. I get to my feet and pull out a stone dagger with my left hand.
“Hey, it’s the goblin that killed me” said the human.
“What? No. That was another goblin” I replied. “You can probably find him in the village right over there.” I pointed to the goblin village closeby. I put their lives in danger for mine, so what.
“No worries. I’ll get to them after.”
The human’s hand becomes enveloped in flames, his eyes glow and his voice grows deeper.
“Fucking goblin” he says.
“Wait wait, before you kill me” I say, “how did you survive me spear?”
He chuckled. “Oh, there’s a respawn point right near here”
“What’s a-”
| 2016-07-15T11:00:40 | 2016-07-15T10:37:41 | 31 | 14 |
[WP] In this world, salaries are determined by the desirability of the work: if everybody wants to do the job and it's fun, it pays minimum wage. But if it's hard or awful work that nobody wants to do, the pay is high. You decide to apply for the highest-paying job in the world. | In your world, I sit among the average human, riding the subway, reading the morning newspaper, and watching the sun go down. I myself would rather not worry myself in the jobs of other people because you might feel bad I taste ice cream for a living.
Or so you thought.
In my world, I sit as a man who watches paint dry. It pays me $262,000 yearly. To you it might seem like a scam. But if I were to taste ice cream for a living, I would be paid $8. Same would go for the man who rides water slides or the professional Netflix watcher. All jobs you would want here. What I see is paint dry.
Paint drying is interesting. It’s a job opportunity that I ventured forth. The news of the world is dreading, but the sewage is great. It’s a messed up world to you, but I say the same thing to your world. The man who hired me said this was a mistake. But I knew this wasn’t a mistake. I chose this job for money, so I could support myself.
“Do you, as a willful human being, agree to take the job of watching paint dry? I mean, this is a joke, right? You could have had a minimum wage job.”
“No, sir. I accept the job.”
“Alright then.”
I watch the men who set it up too. I’ve been doing this for 5 years and I’m a millionaire. So let this world begin. | I was the fart sniffer. I know a terrible job but someone had to do it. After diasmellium was released in to the water system (a dangerous radioactive substance that caused people to transform in to evil lizards) I knew I had to take the job. Why a fart sniffer you ask? That's the only way to make sure someone wasn't a lizard person. A trained nose could sniff out diasmellium a mile away from a fart. The pay was good, 1 billion dollars..
But the pay wasn't enough... One day I was smelling the ass of a frightfully overweight woman. "is this really necessary" she exclaimed. "just fart and let's get this over with" I said back. Suddenly I saw a wicked look in her eyes "okay" she said before ripping a huge liquid diarrhea shit on me. I died that day. My face melted off... Was never worth the pay. | 2018-08-02T15:18:31 | 2018-08-02T14:46:41 | 29 | 11 |
[WP] You were born with one talent that no one else has: the ability to spin a piece of a broken eggshell on a paper plate. Finally, you are in a situation where this talent is useful. | "I had a dream." She said, crossing her legs beneath the dinner table.
"Uh, huh." I nodded, watching candlelight flickering and illuminating her bright blue eyes into a sky I wanted to lose myself to. "Go on."
"So, this wise old sage told me that the guy I was gonna marry was great at spinning pieces of broken eggshells on a paper plate."
My eyes went wide. "Holy shit." I breathed, laughing to myself like an idiot, ignoring her confused glare as she raised a brow.
"Waiter!" I motiond for one of them to come.
"How may I be of service sir?"
I smiled and said: "Bring me an eggshell, a broken one. And the paper plate."
"Very well."
Bianca chuckled, leaning against her right hand. "You don't seriously believe you can do that right?" She huffed. "I tried so many times, it's impossible."
Smirking, taking the egg and the plate from the returning waiter: "Just wait til' you see this then." I said. | You are a contestant on Britains Got Talent series 496, the country is running out of the very limited talent it possesses. You spin the egg on the second episode, Simon Cowell declares you the winner as it is the first mildly interesting thing to happen for since the fat woman fell over in series 400. The show is cancelled... you are knighted by the queen for finally finishing the worlds worst show. Simon Cowell looses all meaning in life and proceeds to drive his car off of London Bridge... you are a national hero for aiding the cleaning of the gene pool... they nickname you the Dredger. | 2017-08-06T02:18:06 | 2017-08-06T01:03:20 | 70 | 17 |
[WP] A bunch of teenagers in color-coordinated outfits are standing in a V formation on your lawn. | The old man shook with barely-contained rage. With one arthritic hand he drew the metal rocker directly in front of his front door and sat heavily down upon it. As the spring took his weight, he bobbed silently, looking out at the newly minted team on his lawn. Eventually, he took a long drink from the can in his hand and spat. "No," he said. "No shortcuts, no gimmicks, no costumes, no attitudes, and most of all, no more --ing kids!" The -- was critical. He was pissed beyond all reason, and a properly placed -- could stand in for as many as six conventional swears, at once.
"But without your help, we will surely," began the red-suited teen, but he was cut off. "Be defeated? Get killed?" interjected the old man. "Newsflash, you've been on borrowed time since you put that ridiculous getup on for the first time. You have no fundamentals, just a bag of barely understood, half-remembered tricks that you had no business being taught in the first place. You're all going to die, and soon. Remind your boss I told him no more kids, then go get yourselves killed gloriously, or not. Just get off my lawn." | I was shaking slightly, the pressure was real. Our team was down by 8 points and I needed to nail this. Sweat started to bead on my forehead as I looked at the teens, counting all ten of them individually, picturing in my mind the perfect throw, the best angle, the perfect amount of spin to take all ten of the little bastards out.
I wound my arm back as I took two giant strides. I realized, much to my horror as I released the ball that I was unlucky enough to get set up with an ADHD pin which saw a squirrel in the neighbors tree and promptly walked over to investigate it, narrowly avoiding being hit but destroying my chances of a strike.
Lawn bowling. It's a love/hate relationship. | 2021-02-17T19:59:06 | 2021-02-17T17:23:31 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] The manned mission to Mars went off without a hitch. The transmissions came back right on schedule: "Touchdown successful." "Habitat functional." "Life-support optimal." Then nothing for 48 hours. Then one last transmission: "We were wrong. Planet inhabited. Do not send rescue."
| "We were wrong. Planet inhabited. Do not send rescue."
Tom sent the message, his hand lingering on the button a moment as he watched the transmission status. "That's it, then. I'll never see home again."
>but you are home
Tom nodded to the empty air, limping on his injured leg as he left the communications hub. He held the wound on his side, blood seeping through his fingers. Mullins... damn him. Got the jump on him.
Tom took a moment to kick Mullin's lifeless corpse as he shuffled out of the comm room. The hallway outside was littered with detritus. Plaster and metal from damaged walls. Shards of plastene from shattered windows. The shimmer of emergency force fields the only thing standing between Tom and the crimson expanse of the Martian landscape outside.
>is it not beautiful tom
He could only nod, clenching his teeth against the pain in his side and in his leg. The temperature was dropping. Wafts of steam rose from the still-warm bodies of Henderson, Guttierez, Smythe-Barnes, Nokimura, and Mikhailov. Their shells littered the hall, sprays of blood adorning the nearby walls. Smythe-Barnes had been divorced from her legs. Tom couldn't remember where he had left them, but watching her crawl for help had been...
>delightful
No. It had been horrible. Monsterous. But also, worthwhile. "All for you." Tom whispered.
>yes tom
>
>come to me now my love
Tom turned to the shimmering force field patching the hole in the station. It was built to hold back the vacuum of thin atmosphere, but a human could push through it easily. Normally this would be done to effect repairs, but today...
Tom picked up the helmet of a nearby exosuit. Affixed the seals, checked the air supply. One hour of oxygen. More than he needed. She was close. So close her whispers tickled his ear.
>come to me tom
>
>we will be together forever
Tom slipped through the force field, and shuffled across the arid red valleys of Mars.
&#x200B; | "Do Not Send Recuse!" …. sent.
Not even a second thought is given as I hit send on the 'unauthorized' message back to mission control. Hoping and knowing that it will fall on deaf ears. Slowly standing, I wander back to the 8x8'' compartment that has been "home" for the past 2 years, Life bay 524-Delta.
A slight laugh escapes as I pass by Alpha through Charlie bays of my crew. We all had our missions, a decade of training for this very moment. Press conferences, kissing families goodbye, and of course the pomp an circumstance of all our 'proud' leaders. However, I always knew this was always a one way trip. My mission...is unique.
The door to my bay opens smoothly and the room is pristine ...except for my bed. The material of the bedsheets made it impossible for me to keep my bed squared as I had been able to my whole life. Two years of personal hell. Sitting on the corner of my bed I check my timepiece. Mission control wont receive my message for another 10 minutes and it will be 15 more minutes before a response should arrive. I'm not concerned.
Mars is exactly how I imagined it....abandoned and dead.
Much sooner than possible, a message indicator popped up in the corner of my room controls. My location was being pinged...A deep exhale, at least I didn't have to wait any longer.
A couple swipes on the controls, and the countdown begins.
I straighten out the sheets on my bed one more time laying on top of them … finally resting.
Houston will not send rescue, because I am not the one who will need it. | 2019-01-31T10:36:30 | 2019-01-31T09:59:54 | 43 | 24 |
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