prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] As Death walks towards you, you panic and scream the first word that comes into your head: “Unsubscribe!” Death stops, scowls, crosses your name off the list he is holding then turns and walks away. | "Well shit, that's a first. Ok, I guess I'll see you around."
The cloaked figure makes for the door, which creaks open unaided.
"Wait, where are you going?"
"Hm?"
It looks back, revealing the bony features beneath the ragged hood.
"Aren't you going to take me...beyond? or whatever it is you do?"
"No? You just cancelled your contract."
"Wha-"
"You *did* read the terms and conditions before you were born right?"
I pause, before sheepishly squeaking out a small "No?".
Death reaches one gnarled hand to his forehead before letting out a distinct and despairing *sigh.*
Dropping all pretenses, he sits on the edge of my bed.
Seconds pass like hours before he finally grumbles "You seriously think you're just... *entitled* to your soul? You weren't born with one, we *lent* it to to you."
"We?"
He hands me a small white business card. *R. Grimm PLC, Repossessions Dept.*
"Impressive, very nice."
"That's bone."
"Of course."
He clears his 'throat' before composing himself.
"Anyway, to cut a long story short, I am here to reclaim your soul now that it has been sufficiently enriched with a life well lived. Understand?"
"Uh-huh. But you're saying I have a choice, right?"
"Not exactly. You *are* contractually obligated to return your soul. But..."
"Yes?"
"You are not obligated to *die,* if that makes sense."
I start to sweat as the implications sink in.
"Now, most people *accept* their death at this point, because trying to live without a soul is pretty shit. *Hell,* you might say."
"No wait I-"
"But you seem to know *SO* much better apparently..."
"No, no, no, I didn't mean it!"
A slight grin creeps across his face.
"Sorry, no takebacks." he whispers, as the last of my humanity is ripped away before my very eyes. | "So you're just letting me walk away?"
Death turns back and gave a deep sigh, "Yes, shoo. Go away and live the rest of your life."
"But do I later or-."
Death didn't really have facial features, it's just a skull billowing black mist from its eye sockets but you can tell it's annoyed.
"No," his skeletal palm was promptly planted on his skull, "I thought you knew the agenda. Aren't you a god playing human?"
Jordan was about to speak but soon realize it would be the death of him if he had his rhetorical question.
Death mumbled, rattling his jaw against his skull. "Ughh, gods these days, always trying to live as their own mortal creations, can't they give me a break."
Jordan was terrified, he still couldn't move as lines of blurred questions flooded his head, blankly staring at the embodiment of death itself.
Death took a glance at Jordan again, his boney fingers rubbing his chin, "Maybe..."
As on command, Jordan stood up waving his arms frantically. "Y-yes, g-got you real good Death, should have u-unsubscribe years ago, ha-ha-ha." his nervous laugh didn't really help his rapport with Death but It seemed even more annoyed, gesturing away at Jordan later ripping open space-time itself and setting through the tear before giving Jordan the finger.
Jordan's knees gave way, falling onto the dirt floor and lying down to digest what had happened with the immediate thought being, "Am I really free of death forever?" | 2021-12-09T04:27:56 | 2021-12-09T04:13:31 | 129 | 26 |
[WP] Earth is discovered by a peaceful coalition of civilizations. Turns out we missed several major technologies normally developed by now. The aliens are very confused how we got here. | The chief inspectorate walked into the conference chamber with a concerned look on his wizened blue face. He faced the three investigators and gave them a sad glance.
"Two of you have obviously made mistakes, as all three of you have given differing reports on this 'Earth' planet".
The three different coloured investigators looked at each other nervously.
"Now, it's not the first time people have made mistakes and I'm willing to overlook it, but we need the correct information to move on. So, did two of you not go and make it up? Or did you end up on the wrong planets?"
The first investigator looked up to protest. "I went! My report is correct, they are a pre-warp society, but post-nuclear!"
The second investigator looked at him appalled. "No!" He shouted "they are a post- combustion society, but they're still pre-atomic-forge! You can't split an atom without an atomic forge! Not without destroying a city!"
The third investigator looked up at them grimly. "You both must of gone to the wrong planet. They're not even post-war yet, how could a species be clever enough to master combustion and split the atom, but dumb enough to still kill people based on race, religion or culture?"
The chief inspectorate had heard enough. Dismissing the three he decided to visit the planet himself. Accessing the information on his screen, he had the computer select three destinations at random. "All nice and close to each other at least" he muttered, making his travel plans for Kandahar, Aleppo and Gaza. | "Tucson's a strange place.
Jesus look at it. It's a forest.
When I was a young man, I lived there three or four years. Usually takes that long to get used to a new place, and for me to start running it. 21 years later and it looks like this.
I'm still waiting to get used to this shit.
When they came, the... reflections. They weren't what we... shit. Look, long before you were born, they came. They left us. They left us with just what you see here. What do you see boy?
Do you see any power plants? Or cars? No. They're all gone. Cuz they took em.
Big too doo about how we had missed a crucial step, and we needed to find the real reason we're here. Then they left.
They fucking took EVERYTHING. Our fortunes, our money, our Fucking oil. OFF OUR OWN GOD DAMNED LAND.
But you son,
You're a man now.
You're gonna change that.
And I'm gonna tell you how." | 2017-03-10T00:58:58 | 2017-03-09T23:13:07 | 135 | 26 |
[WP]Write a story that isn't scary until the last line is read. | The flowing highways allowed him to travel effortlessly to his destination. He didn't particularly care much about where exactly to get off, but he found a nice-enough looking spot just like any other of the choices destiny could have taken him to. With only what was on his back now, the pudgy thing let himself into the welcoming abode, and he went to find whoever was in charge. He had a strict agenda, and it was to be completed in only a matter of minutes. Although his entrance was unexpected, the little laborers of this place began to fulfill his work order, churning out the final product faster than he ever could have done alone. Rather unaware of any strategy or direction, he went outside again and proceeded down the highway to continue fulfilling his purpose.
By the time his order was complete, the hijacked cell had died, and the deadly self-replicating virus continued to spread about the child's ever-weakening body. | It's so cold here in this tundra. The summers are great for farming, but the winters are terrible. My baby, to my right, and I have no food. We ran out of crops since the beginning of winter, and ran out of meat yesterday. I would go hunting for bears and wolves right now, but I don't have a rifle. Without one, taking on a bear or wolf would be dangerous. I need food. I look down to the right. It'll have to do. | 2017-06-05T20:52:45 | 2017-06-05T20:15:06 | 78 | 17 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "GREETINGS FELLOW ADVENTURING HUMANS!" Boomed the voice of Danny the Elf sat bolt upright from the sleeping cloth sack she had been in, causing Bob the Barbarian to grunt and curl up under his animal hide sleeping rug again.
"IT IS I, YOUR GOOD FRIEND DAN, I AM UNHARMED AFTER MY ENCOUNTER WITH THE DAEMON!" She continued smiling oddly, her mouth breaking into a wide grin with teeth and her eyebrows actually elevating.
"Dann...." Feldspar the half-elf warlock managed to stop himself from saying Danny, "You told us this before, remember?"
Danny the Elf blinked, everything was always so terribly confusing, having come from a dimension that didn't have time it had to learn about things happening and things that had happened, Makor the Cleric had helped with that, teaching the snow elf about how things happen and can't be changed but things that haven't happened yet can be altered.
"OH YES FRIEND!" Danny laughed as if it was a running joke, Sim the halfling thief/bard laughed a little as well in sympathy or perhaps enjoyment.
"WHERE ARE WE GOING TODAY? WILL THERE BE MORE EXCELLENT FERMENTED YEAST PRODUCTS TO CONSUME?"
Makor nodded slowly, "That's right Dan, more beer at the end of the adventure, now how did we get back the entrance avoiding the dragon, getting the treasure and nobody getting hurt?"
"OF COURSE FRIEND! THIS IS A THING THAT HAPPENED ALREADY AFTER ALL!" Danny confirmed with the group as each of them nodded in agreement pressing in to listen carefully to Danny.
"FIRSTLY, WE LEFT THE ROOM BY THE SOUTH ENTRANCE, SIM DISABLED THE PIT TRAP AFTER FALLING INTO IT AND DYING THE FIRST TIME HE TRIED." Danny started to explain.
Sim frowned a little looking towards the South entrance, he'd died; again, if 'Dan' hadn't told him about the pit trap or the acid or the undercooked chicken or ... he was incredibly glad that 'Dan' had changed so dramatically since that encounter with the demon.
"THE TREASURE IS MOSTLY CURSED AND FELDSPAR CHANGED INTO A SHEEP WHEN HE PICKED UP A STAFF THEN A STATUE AS HE TOUCHED THE CURSED DIAMOND AS LARGE AS HIS FIST AND THEN WAS KILLED AS HE PICKED UP A CROWN." Danny continued as Feldspar took careful notes, the warlock couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered to cast identification or detect item status.
Feldspar liked whatever was living inside Danny, even when the party wasn't using it as a cheap way to complete adventures the Elf was nicer, kinder and fun to listen to, with her soft voice always shouting it was hard not to giggle at her.
"THEN AS WE LEAVE THE REAL MAKOR ATTACKS THE FAKE ONE CURRENTLY TRAVELLING WITH US AND IS EASILY DEFEATED." Danny concluded smiling proudly.
Makor looked around the group as for a moment he was sure that his plan had been ruined, they must know, it was just said aloud.
Sim however was fiddling with his lock picks, clearly fully distracted, Feldspar was already in a meditative trance memorising spells.
Bob smiled widely at Makor and Danny before speaking in his native tongue, "What did she say then? Sounded like bad news for you, Feldspar and Sim..."
Makor nodded with a rush of relief as Bob wondered how many more times he could possibly pass that particular lie your face off check. | Bolton the doppelganger did not want to be an adventurer. He wanted to live quietly, and bake cookies. He grew tired of the constant hustle and bustle of morphing into people, committing crimes because no one trusted the Doppleganger kind. He figured his secluded life in the hills might buy him peace.
The rogue laid on his floor, blood oozing from the pan shaped dent on his forehead. The doppleganger held his frying pan, a pained look on his face.
"I didn't mean to kill you..." he muttered, letting the pan fall to the ground, and burying his smooth black face in his long alien fingers.
Bolton had awoken to the sounds of someone rummaging through his dresser. Without really thinking he'd lifted his trusty frying pan, and crept up on the black cloaked figure. The rogue, a stout fat dwarf turned and snarled at him bradishing twin black daggers.
"hey stop stealing my stuff!" Bolton said.
The rogue responded with an inept slash of a dagger. With a frightened flurry of pan blows Bolton had brought the rogue to the ground.
Now Bolton fretted. Many a doppler murdered with impunity, but Bolton never wished to do anything more than avoid trouble. He could read minds, yet he refused to. It spoiled the fun of meeting people, and knowing them. Due to this aversion to murder Bolton now stood paralyzed, unable to think of what to do with this body.
He began to poke at the stocky form, when he heard a firm knock emanating from behind his wood door.
"Durin, you oaf, you've been gone hours, what's going on."
Without really thinking Bolton became Durin. With a slam Barrin the Paladin opened the door and saw two Durins, one wearing simple clothes, the other armor. One wielded Durin's black steel knives, the other a bloodied cast iron pan.
"What's going on here?" Barrin asked.
"well um, see I fell asleep here in this cave, and then this doppleganger tried to steal my armor and knives and so I had to beat him with this frying pan?" Said Bolton.
The paladin smirked.
"I see, well good job. Now come on. We've got some ruins to explore. And next time maybe don't rob a domicile if you aren't sure it is abandoned." Barrin said.
Reluctantly, Bolton donned the dead Durrin's armor, and tools. After the paladin buried Durin, and planted a plank in the ground. The dopple busied himself inside preparing his house to be left, and Barrin wrote with a peice of charcoal from his pouch.
"here lies, Durin, a theif, a rat bastard, and a betrayer. He got himself killed robbing a good man." He wrote.
With a cool wisp of the wind following them, the newly minted Bolton/Durrin followed Barrin, not sure of the golden Haired human's destination, and worrying deeply of the state of his garden.
| 2017-09-15T06:12:39 | 2017-09-15T05:03:01 | 75 | 12 |
[WP] This version of Earth is a wash. The angels have held a lottery and you have been chosen to end the world. You are given any resource you need; magic, technology, rEality alteration. Whether it’s wholesale destruction of the planet or just the death of all sentient life is up to you. “Have fun” | "What have you done?" Azreal asked.
"Exactly what you asked," I said, "Sterilized the world. There's not a single thing left that could be classified as life, except me. And I'll be gone soon enough."
We sat on a slab of translucent purple crystal, jutting out from a craggy collection of pillars of similar material that had once been Manhattan. The clouds drifted by below us, clouds the same wispy purple color.
"You asked for nanites. 'Grey goo,' you said. You spent six hundred hours explaining what a 'disassembler' was until I could create them for you. What *is* all this?"
"This, my dear angel, is *stasis*. I told you very plainly how grey goo works. Did you never stop to wonder why it took *three hundred years* for me to call you? Exponential disassemblers should've been able to scour this world in a month, tops. Yet here we are."
"Stasis." He'd had the same expression on his face practically since he appeared, the pinched look of a man who'd had a lemon shoved in his mouth and left there.
"There will be no more humans. There *are*, currently, no more humans other than me. But their thoughts, their memories, their consciousness, is preserved within these stones. A new race will rise, perhaps, and *a* world will begin anew. By the time they figure out how to damage these stones, I imagine all of us will be... like Abraham and Job... old and full of days."
"This is subversion," he said, "Heresy!"
I rose, patting the dust from my trousers and turning to look at the cold purple sarcophagus that would soon add my consciousness to the crystalline choir and finish the unwholesome task I'd been set to.
"No, Azrael... this is what we once called... malicious compliance." | Its amazing, the way I feel so completely and utterly not different. I thought, having been given this terribly destructive and all consuming power I'd feel filled with, what, i don't know, something. But there's nothing.. Just the knowledge that what I decide reality Should be becomes what reality Is.
So knowing I was the ender of humanity in this plane of existinance, I started small. I added a few microscopic resistances to viruses, making them more immune to antibiotics. I sent war to Damascus, and famine to Venezuela. I sent an orange goon to lead the Americas, and a dictator to frighten the Russians into submission. Small. Little small pushes.
Then I nudged north and south Korea into a room where they could give personal offenses, starting a nuclear Holocaust in that region of the world. Fires in wine country. Floods on remote tropical islands. Starvation in the south.
This was all play to me. At any moment I could snap my finger and obliterate the earth. Simply wish the molecules to give up being apart of something, of all things, to simply float. ..but I wanted to take my time. I like to believe I was given this power specifically because of who I am, and who I am is someone who won't rush.
I'll destroy the earth in due time, but until then, I'll slowly demoralize and hurt my brothers and sisters.
*falling asleep writing this. Will edit and finish in morning (unless You wanna build on it) Kay thanks bye.* | 2018-02-27T18:44:13 | 2018-02-27T14:52:19 | 273 | 32 |
[WP] After superpowers start appearing around the world, businesses realize the use of these abilities. People with x ray vision are practically forced into being doctors and people with heat vision work as cooks. You are starting to get tired of your superpower-based job. | "At 2:47 this afternoon, a super-strength unit at the worksite for the new bridge will attempt suicide. He's worked 16 hour days for two straight months, and no one cares. He has a Masters in Biology and he is made to carry I-beams endlessly."
"Keep it short, Mr. Major." A curt reply came.
I scowled his way. "I will continue to give context until you either listen, or find someone whose precognition extends further than mine." I handle an entire city on my own, no way they hassle me on this.
"Whatever. Continue."
I grumbled. "At 3:31 pm, a psychic unit being used for mind control will be beaten by a superior for selling a television too cheaply. They charged 250% retail. If not prevented the unit will release a wave of energy while defending themselves, causing 3 comas and the brain death of their attacker."
"We'll get a team out there to restrain the unit."
"What about their assailant?"
"Continue."
"What about their assailant?"
"Nothing will have happened."
"Son of a-"
"CONTINUE, Precog Unit!"
I took a deep breath. "At 1:46, a precognition unit will kill his Responding Action overseer and escape the precinct. He makes a clean getaway because, of course, he sees everything coming."
"What? But you're the only-" He looked up, into the barrel of the gun I had managed to acquire and smuggle in. They always assumed seeing the myriad ways things can go wrong would dissuade a Precog from taking risks. I had waited long enough to find a solution.
"I'm so tired of snitching on my fellow supers...of calling out you norms and seeing nothing done to THEM. I hereby tender my resignation." I flipped the safety off.
He stammered. "W-wait! Your prediction can't work! You said 1:46! It's already 1:49!"
"Huh...guess I should have mentioned I was using your watch for that particular prediction."
He looked down...1:45:55...56...57...
"...It's a little slow."
**BANG**
Edit: Punctuation fix. Also, thanks for the many kind words. Part 2 will come as soon as I can get to a real keyboard. Mobile is hard to work with. | Mentally exhausting.
That is the only way you can describe a teleporting game of soccer.
There are about 10 different players per team. Every damn one of them warping around the field in an instant. The regulation balls have been painted neon yellow and black just so players can see it between the blurs of people popping in front and out of the balls sight. Its a wonder how this sport became more competitive after teleporting was introduced. I'm one of the top players, like, in the world. Its cool, I get paid a lot, I get adoring fans. But most of all, I get raging headaches.
It turns out your eyes aren't exactly the best at keeping up with your body when you just warp places. And its like your damn ears actively fight against you. If you stand still anywhere for a few seconds after a couple of teleports, your likely to completely collapse from disorientation. General rule of teleportation is to stand as still as possible. *Especially* your head.
And a punt to the ball with your head is liable to make you completely blow your lunch. I envy the goalies. They just sit in one spot, and aren't even allowed to teleport. I remember a few years back they tried a concept of a circular goal where the goalie was allowed to teleport around it to defend 360 degrees of goal. Now *that* match, it ended horrible. Poor goalie sat in the hospital for weeks to orient himself.
I'm not sure what the audience for this sort of sport is. Its so chaotic watching playbacks of games that your either overwhelmed, or bored. Most sportscasters add these visual lines to help viewers tell who is teleporting where. But I personally think that makes it even harder to watch. God knows how the referees make heads or tails of the match. | 2020-02-05T17:14:17 | 2020-02-05T16:52:14 | 1,962 | 79 |
[WP] The world is ending. A group of astrophysicists, xenobiologists, medical doctors, and other experts is loaded on a rocket. And you...but no one seems willing to tell you why. | I have no idea why they brought me along. I wasn't smart like mister higgleson. Insisted we call him "doctor higgs" or something. I call him ducky digs. But he was smart enough for whoever was putting the team together to overlook his need for a latte with a moon in the cream every morning. Astro-physics? He told me it's his job to make sure we don't break the ship too bad when we land.
Sure i only know that because I make the coffee every morning, and he's always thankful for it, but I could have trained a monkey to do that.
I wasn't so frugal of an engineer as miss malaney. Half the time she could take something apart and put it back together with less then half of the parts that went into the damn thing. Me I could hardly do it with spares. She liked to unwind at the end of the day with a mojito and a salad. I only know because I was the one assigned to making them.
She was always a little crabby just before it got time so i learned to get them ready before she was done working with the life-support units. I call all those important ones (which is all of them) life-support, cause really if we lose our water tank we're just as screwed as if we lose the O2.
I liked to think I knew animals, but there where pseudo-organic bits in our ship, mostly waste-processing and oxygen recycling I'm told. But i dont need to know about these things, bevause we have Hemant who's a molecular biologist. He taught me how to make curry just like his mom used to. It took three hours, but that's three more hours he could do his job.
Really, i think I should have been one of the ones that where frozen, waiting to colonize... Whatever rock we hit. Given my lack of skills, maybe i should have been left behind alltogether.
Oh well, no use jumping out of an airlock about it. Just gotta get to work on supper for everyone.
"Surprise!" The three scientists jumped out from the darkness of the kitchen, showering me in confetti.
"What the... Don't you have something more uhhh... Important to be doing?"
"Not really, honey." Miss malaney smiled softly "everything's purring like a kitten."
"Growth rates are in expected margins and come tomorrow we'll just have to shine some UV lights on the water and the first cycle will be complete. A week ahead of schedule too." Hemant smirked.
"I made dinner!" Doctor higgs proclaimed, taking a...rather less then apitizing... Stir-fry? Looks like he put it in a cold pan and brought the heat up, easy mistake to make, i did it a lot when i was learning to cook for myself.
We each took a couple bites before we decided to toss it in the bio-reactor and I made something a bit more palatable.
I made a few mixed drinks for everyone, after an admittedly failed attempt from Hemant and miss malaney both. We watched some old horror movies, my personal favorite, and just before they left they took a moment each to thank me for all my tireless work. I did do anything i could to help, but I didn't know much, so i tried to make up for it in other ways. "This old boat would fall apart without you." They promised
They made a card, and they all signed it. It stands on my mirror so I see it every morning. It gives me a little extra pep in my step I'm not afraid to admit. | Sorry if my english isn't perfect.
​
I'm currenty in a rocket, it's inside looks more like an airplane. I'm in front of it with a free seat beside me with the word "Reserved" embroidered in. A giant tv screen is appearing from the ceiling and is tuned on the news.
\------
A man hanging from a cliff is holding the hand of a woman that was going to fall.
"Why are you saving me?"
"Why shouldn't I do it? I'm sure you would have done the same for me"
"Bring me up"
"I can't, I can't do it, there is no energy left in my body, I can't even release my hand. I'm sorry, at the end I was only able to delay your death"
\-------
The man on the news started to explain with tears in his eyes that will be the last service of all time. He's announcing the most tragic news that I could possible announce, the Earth is going to explode in an hour and everyone will die. I started panicking but no one in the rocket was even a little bit worried, so I stopped and asked the first man in sight what's going on
\-------
The man and the woman were still there, hanging. The woman was shouting to let her so the man could survive, but the man strongly refused.
"I will never kill you, i prefer to die instead"
"I don't wanna you to die for me, I'm just an useless girl, I don't deserve to live a second more"
The man shout something, but it got lost in the sound of a massive explosion. If someone could see things in slow motion, he would have seen a massive red ball consuming everything from below. Both of them were consumed and annihilated.
\------
"The Earth's core is going to explode. No one knows why, but suddenly the pression underground raised. This happened two hours ago, we wouldn't have any clue of that if it wasn't for our saviour"
"Our savior?" I asked
"Yes, Bridgitte Redmond, that girl spent half of her life trying to warn everyone about this disaster. No one believed her, but eventually she was able to build this rocket. But are you sure you don't know her?"
\----------
A girl was born, but she wasn't crying. Her eyes were wide open, her mouth tried to move to say something but only a cough came out.
"So what's the name of this little princess?" she heard
"Bridgitte, Bridgitte Redmond" the father of the girl answered
\----------
"Why I should know her?"
"This rocket is full of astrophysicists, xenobiologists, medical doctors, and other experts, but you, you're here from a direct reccomendation of miss Bridgitte"
"No, I think I never met her"
The other guys was looking at me puzzled
\----------
A new born girl, her first words were: "I have to save him and the Earth. But, more importantly I have to return what he had done to me. Or I will die like everyone else" | 2020-07-16T12:44:38 | 2020-07-16T10:20:33 | 45 | 31 |
[wp] You are an atheist. So naturally you are confused as heck when you wake up in purgatory, with representatives of different Gods trying to scout you for their own brand of afterlife. | I open my eyes.
Everything is white. That’s not right. I was supposed to get never-ending black nothingness! There is no afterlife; it doesn’t make logical sense! So why is everything white? Also, why didn’t I have clothes on?
“So, you’re probably feeling pretty confused right about now,” a voice behind me says. I jumped and turned around to see Chris Hemsworth holding a hammer. “Thor,” he offers, stretching out a hand to introduce himself. I don’t take it, as my both of my own have dropped to cover my genitals. “May I interest you in Valhalla? Now with a 15% discount on excursions to Asgard!”
I blink. “Wha… wha… what?” I mumble weakly,
“Don’t listen to that charlatan,” says a green-skinned guy with a funky beard and flail, who had just appeared without warning by my side. “I’m Osiris, and would you like to dwell in the stars with Ra for all eternity? I’ll throw in two free *ba* excursions. Take a pamphlet.” I’m handed a surprisingly well-designed brochure listing all the benefits of the Duat.
“Not so fast,” the Chris Hemsworth lookalike growls. “Take *my* pamphlet! And because you’re such a great customer, I’ll dock another five percent.”
“I don’t under-” I begin, until I get cut off again.
“Ignore those filthy harlots!” a booming voice echoed out, and I see a radiant and equally buff goth-surfer-dude appear in front of me. “I am Hades, Lord of the Underworld, and I would simply *love* to have you down in Elysium! Our algorithms predict you’d be a perfect match for the Isles of the Blest! Barring a six-to-ten month wait, of course. Come with me for a superior afterlife experience!”
“No, no, no!” a suave-seeming robed man yells, popping into existence in front of me as well. “Behold, for I am Ahura Mazda, the Wise Lord himself, and you’d be a great fit with the afterlife of Zoroastrianism!” He also extends his hand, and I also don’t take it.
“Can I get some clothes?” I ask, but nobody seems to hear me.
“Yeah, well, does Zoroastrianism get smokin’ hot Valkyries?” Thor demands.
“Shut up, you mangy wastrel,” Ahura Mazda snaps. “Only in my paradise do you get to be carried by the *glamorous* Amesha Spenta! And,” he leans in uncomfortably close to me, “the first seven maidens will be free of charge!” I back away, my hands still covering my crotch, but they all keep advancing.
“Do you like pregnant hippos?” Osiris asks impatiently. “Well, we’ve got lots! Come with me to see all kinds of fricked-up scat!”
“What?”
“We can’t curse here.”
The sky crackles. A brilliant flash of white light. A person who is undeniably Jesus appears, looks at me, and says “Son of an estrogen-laced poodle, I’ve got no chance here.” He disappears as quickly as he came.
“Come on,” Hades wheedles. “I’ll let you meet the Furies! And, because you seem like a nice guy, up to seven pomegranates at half off!”
“Half off what?”
“DID SOMEBODY SAY HALF?” A booming voice echoes, and a giant, purple, wrinkle-chinned man in a suit of armor appears. “Hi, I’m Thanos, the new god on the block here. Would you be interested in helping make the universe perfectly balanced, as all things should be?”
Osiris scoffs. “Frickin’ newbie. Apep could devour you so easily.” Thanos snaps his fingers. Half of Osiris’ staff disappears. “Duck move,” Osiris says, looking down. Everybody begins to squabble.
“Hey!” I yell, finally mustering my voice over the five gods. They look at me. Ahura Mazda drops some lime mortar. “Can… somebody… *please…* explain what is going on?” I wheeze.
“You need to pick which afterlife you want,” Thor says. “But, honestly, nobody else has a sick dining hall!” They resume arguing.
“SHUT UP!” I yell. “What do I need to do to get in each one?”
“150,000 credits,” Osiris tells me. “For the best fire river cruise imaginable!”
“120,000 credits,” Ahura Mazda says. “To watch sinners suffer from the safety of paradise!”
“200,000 for Valhalla,” Thor says, “but you can make it payable in installments.”
“180,000,” Hades announces, and we all turn to Thanos.
“Half of your credits, whatever the amount is,” he says.
“I don’t have any credits, though,” I say, confused. “I don’t even know what a credit is.” All the gods exchange exasperated glances.
“Well, why didn’t you tell us earlier?” Ahura Mazda complains. “Now Jesus has a jump on us.”
“Yeah, how come they never know what credits are?” Thor grumbles, and pops off the all-white plane of existence. One by one, the other Gods all leave as well, leaving just me and Thanos.
“Half of zero is zero,” he says, placing a gauntleted hand on my shoulder. “You’re in!”
“I don’t want to be in anything,” I whine.
“Fine, you corksucking motherfracker.” Thanos disappears.
I am left surrounded in whiteness. | "Don't go. Please. Don't go."
"Mr. Brady." I breathed in as if it were my very first breath, returning to the present. But I knew that none of that was true. I was dead.
"Good to have you back among the living." The giant mused upon his throne carved from red stone, gratified by the hoarse and bemused chuckle that radiated from the court. All the gods of their respective underworlds laughing, as if it were a joke only they would understand.
"Gabriel Brady, quite a boring man, aren't you? Other than your lack of faith and your rather questionable lies and perhaps sin of flesh, there isn't much to tie you down here."
A sudden wall of flame burst from the edges of the court, reaching up to the stalactites that hung from above.
Purgatory was just as one would imagine it. Well, the city of Pandemonium at the very least. Rivers of flame that flowed through the city. Crevices from where the cries of the forlorn could be heard echoing in the confines of our own skulls. But it was what stood behind the giant that unnerved me. A hell far worse than what could be heard behind me. Monstrous tornadoes made of bone and flesh that never seemed to still, and the cries that emanated from there. I dare not mention the torturous atrocities committed on those who found their way into the second circle of hell, but all their punishments were horrifyingly suitable and seemed to make a mockery of lust.
"Don't worry, human." The giant mused, leaning forward to get a better look at my horrified expression. "You have not proved worthy of such glorious punishment." He chuckled, alone this time.
"Do you know who I am?"
I shook my head. "Minos. The judge of the underworld. Though today, we are here for a different reason." Minos addressed the room with a spread out arm. "You align yourself with no fate. You have no gods to serve. And thus, you will have the choice of picking your damnation."
*Don't go.* The memory invaded my mind even during Minos's speech.
"You may choose among any of these gods, or choose to stay in purgatory here."
I watched the room, scanning all the figures from mythology, trying to guess their origins. Anubis stood tall and proud, a jackal's head observing me with cold calculation. He didn't see me as a living, breathing being. But rather another name to scribble into his ledger.
A woman next, one side of her face the most gorgeous and radiant being I had ever seen, one that made my heart race and make me want to look away due to the sheer beauty she emanated. Yet it was her other half, that didn't permit me to avert my gaze. Her skin as black as charcoal and horrifying to the gaze. What teeth she still had, seemed yellow and rotting. Her hair draped like seaweed and dripping with tar. I assumed her to be Hel, the Norse goddess of Muspelheim.
My eyes roamed to one god after the next, some I didn't recognise, others I had to guess.
"And what if I choose none?" I asked Minos, trying to steel my fear.
*Don't go.* The voice grew louder in the echoes of my mind. Perhaps the memory was even stronger now that I was closer to the source.
Minos smiled. "Well, there is a final option." A pit opened behind me that swirled into the abyss. Darkness seemed to have made this place its home, and light was nowhere to be found.
"Oblivion." The word slithered from Minos, but it wasn't from him. His tail came forth with a snake at its end, one that hissed with its forked tongue.
I understood. This was a test. I turned to the gods and saw how they all watched me with unconcealed interest. "Would he jump?" I imagined they thought.
*Oblivion,* this was the path of the atheist. To truly die and fade into obscurity. How cruel a game it was and how fitting it seemed.
*Don't go.* I allowed the memory to flood my mind. Those words were spoken on a deathbed, but it was not my deathbed. I remembered how my mother clutched her crucifix as I begged her to stay with tears running down cherub cheeks. Barely eleven and god took her from me. Still. She claimed that she was happy to be going to heaven. I wonder if she even believed it herself?
My faith died that day with my mother. I had no need of anything that would take my mother from me. Or perhaps it was because I thought she loved god more than me. To leave me behind in my own purgatory.
I turned back to the pit. I am sure most people would choose one of the other worlds to spend the rest of their days in hell. That the fear of fading into obscurity was far greater than any pain one can afflict. It was the true test of testing ones submission to atheism, and a cruel joke.
Yet the choice came easy to me.
My feet slipped from under me as I leaned into the darkness. I had made my peace with death a long time ago, and my eternal slumber awaited.
***
/r/KikiWrites | 2018-06-11T05:32:52 | 2018-06-11T05:17:24 | 65 | 19 |
[WP]”Tyrant! Is that my father’s skull you’re wearing as a helmet?” “Fool! Didn’t your daddy scream ‘run!’ those years ago as I crushed him against a wall? The Orbulet still creates a force sphere around me, nothing can pass without my will!” “Long con buddy. I’m a priest now, and...’RESSURECTION!’” | I raised my arms above my head, holding the holy tomb of resurrection aloft. "Through the power of the Lord, I bring you back to this realm, father!" I cried, pouring all of my emotion and willpower into the spell. "Father, hear me, and return!"
This was the moment I had trained for, the moment I had imagined over and over again ever since this monster had murdered my father. Ever since I had been granted mercy by the brothers of the Demonic Temple, been accepted as a member, then a student, then a graduate. Every single spell, every test, every long night of study, all of it had been to prepare me for this moment.
"RETURN!" I shouted, with the fury of all of my years of pain and sadness, of all of the emotions I had held back for decades.
Then, my father's body returned.
I should have studied longer. Maybe then I could have prevented what followed.
The skull began to glow with a demonic red hue, as the magic took hold. Skin began to emerge from the bones, as the body returned around it.
The Tyrant screamed in terror, as he was engulfed within the helmet of bone. His screams became muffled as he fought for space within, competing with the brain that was materializing within. I could only watch in terror as my father's bones shot through the Tyrant's as they regrew. His new spine descended through the man's torso, skewering him from the top down. As the new arms and legs forced their way out of the chest, the Tyrant collapsed, dead from... well, all of this.
Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, my father burst forth from the corpse. He stood on trembling legs, examining his blood soaked new skin in shock.
".....eww" he said.
"Father!" I said, approaching his new form. "I've missed you so-"
I bounced off of a force sphere, stumbling backwards as I regained my balance.
My father reached out a hand, which also bounced off the shimmering aura.
"....oh", I said, realizing what I had done. "Oh no."
The shield could only be turned off by the Tyrant's will, and he was in no condition to will anything ever again.
/r/SlightlyColdStories | " 'RESURRECTION!' "
The holy symbol started glowing at the call. Several bursts of magic came out of the priest's staff, flying above the sphere the tyrant hid in. The bursts traveled in a circle, forming a ring in the air. The ring started to move downward, condensing, aiming at the skull the tyrant wore.
Only to fizzle out when it came in contact with the Orbulet's force sphere.
"Did you not *listen* to what I said?" The tyrant sneered at the wide eyed priest. "*Nothing* can pass without my will. Did you think you were the *first* to think of reviving someone within my sphere?" The tyrant ranted as he reached behind his throne. "More experienced magic users than you have tried, with fresher corpses!"
"That was supposed to be a bluff!" The priest shouted in near hysteria. "A barrier like that, it must have some sort of weakness! How could it protect against a God's magic?"
"It is no bluff." The tyrant sneered at the accusation. "I did not succeed as much as I did by making wild claims. I know my tools like I know my weapons.
"You heard what I said about nothing passing without my will, yes?" The tyrant finally picked up what he was looking for, a rather mean gun. "I learned the hard way, that includes even the air I breathe. When I first used the Orbulet, I almost passed out from my own exhalations building up."
The tyrant then aimed the gun at the Priest. "The second time I used it, I didn't allow bullets out of my sphere. The ricocheting bullet has since been the last thing to harm me."
With a pull of the trigger, the gun launched a bullet through the shield- and the priest. | 2022-06-13T06:27:02 | 2022-06-13T05:58:30 | 177 | 31 |
[WP] A sexually transmitted disease causes infected people to gradually alter their gender. | Day 1: Well, I just got diagnosed, so that's fun. AIDS. About 6 months to go they said, and it's irreversible. My therapist, Ronald said if I make a diary, it can make the transition easier, and eventually help me cope with additional stress. Let's hope he's right, huh?
Day 13: So about 2 weeks in, and I've been feeling weird, I haven't sprouted any boobs and my dick hasn't sunk back into me, but apparently the majority of my testosterone is being replaced by estrogen, so my areolas are gonna get tender and I'll probably have mood swings. Seems like I'm 15 again.
Day 26: All of my terminal hair has shrunk, and my scalp hair's been getting finer and finer, so I'll have to get a new haircut soon, I'm thinking about shaving tonight too, but everyone says that I should try going to the circus with it. Glad some people can still have a sense of humor, kind of balances out between the shaming and the ridicule.
Day 36: After some talking with my parents and family, we all talked about STD's, sex, all that good stuff and we found things out about each other. They're not disgusted by me, which I found out recently, and I'm not mad at them for totally ignoring me. We realized that we don't have all the time in the world, so we're gonna spend it right, with each other.
Day 41: Today's the day! I woke up with slight bulges in my shirt! Not sure what they're gonna grow to, but hopefully I won't totally be flat chested. And my hormones have been getting stronger too, Dr. Garza gave me some pills to help the hormones come in slowly and at a pace, or else they'd go crazy. So would I, or else everyone would probably have to deal with a bitchy Me.
Day 60: My pubes started to retract and my vagina is officially coming in. After lunch me and the family are gonna have a yard sale, I can't fit or wear any of my old clothes, and we're gonna use the money to go and shop for some new blouses for me! Super excited, y'know, I've always loved the idea of wearing a skirt or maybe a frilly sweater.
Day 80: Thinking more and more on it, my body can change, and my hormones could spike however much they want but...I don't feel too different. Maybe it's something that's always been here, and I'm just realizing it. I'm gonna talk to Ronald (therapist) about it.
Day 120: My transition is complete! This happened really fast, but it's so freeing. I realized, I've always felt like a woman and maybe I just didn't want to face it or I wasn't ready, I dunno. But that was before, now I know who I am, and I'm proud of it, and better yet, I know people are proud of me for accepting myself. It's a good feeling, everything is so much better now. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all.
Except for the periods. These suck.
| The duo sat on the sofa in James' living room, watching some indie flick about people with the ability to change genders.
"Something seems different about you, James." Rory stated to her long time friend since elementary. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but you're different."
"Maybe it's a growth spurt." James began quickly rattling off options, "Darker tan, new hair cut, ^^lost ^^my ^^v-card, new cologne?"
"You did what now?" Rory interrupted.
"Oh, I got this new cologne from playboy. They say it's mixed with the very abstract of sex. *Whatever that is* It's supposed to make you an instant heart throb with the ladies."
"Yea, and what about the virginity bit?"
"Oh you meant that." -attempt at nonchalant laugh- "I finally got laid."
"I gathered. Details. Now!?"
"It's a bit of a long story."
"I've got time!"
"Nah, a true gentleman doesn't kiss and tell. Yet I can tell you there was a lot more than kissing going on if you know what I mean, high five".
James left his hand in the air for a few seconds before realizing Rory's would not be meeting it. Dropping at the wrist in disappointment, James put his hand down.
"Anyway, let's continue this convo until after I piss, I've gotta go like a racehorse."
Scurrying for the bathroom, James left Rory with many questions. Scaling the stairs from the living room, James could feel his bladder aching as if it were going to burst. Breaking into the bathroom door like the psycho from the shining, then slamming the door afterwards, James yanked his pants down to unleash the torrent of fluid torturing him. Without a second glance, James let his bladder loose, as muscle memory dictated the rest, but instead of the familiar sound of rain hitting a lake, he heard a shower hitting a floor. Looking down then quickly jumping back James realized the situation at hand and didn't know how to handle it. Where his penis was lied an odd nub that protruded largely from his groin that was now in fold, and just below that the warm liquid flowed. He had entirely forgot to quit pissing, but by the moment he remembered it was no longer an issue.
Throughout the whole ordeal he didn't scream once, he just stared in silence as his 'thingie' slowly shrank before his eyes.
Unbeknownst to him Rory had decided to check on him, seeing as he had been away for a few minutes more than normal. She knocked but recieved no answer, worred she slowly entered.
"Jam---ie???" Rory exclaimed with her mouth agape and her head cocked to the side. | 2015-02-19T14:22:21 | 2015-02-19T14:09:01 | 48 | 11 |
[WP] The rapture happens. All dogs go to heaven and are interviewed to decide the fate of their owners. One good boy says "What about my cat friend, Mr. Mittens?". The angel replies "The what now?". | "The family cat!"
The angel had a moment of realization. "Oh, cats don't have souls. Don't worry, if you want a cat where you end up in heaven there will be a cat there."
"No!" barked the dog. "I want my friend, not some random cat!"
"Don't worry, you won't even know the difference. It will be the exact same as the cat you left behind."
"But I want my friend!"
"I'll be honest" said the angel "I'm not really used to dogs asking about cats. Most don't really like them".
"I don't like them. I liked her."
"Ugh. This is a weird request. Let me see what I can do."
The angel went into the back for a while. When they came back they had a bunch of books detailing what they could and couldn't do for new residents in heaven.
"Ok" the angel said. "If we treat the cat as a soulless object we could consider this a prized possession. Would you consider the can a prized possession?"
"Sure if that's what it takes. The cat is my prized possession."
"Great! Your cat will be with you when you end up back with your owner."
"I'm going back to my owner? That's great!"
"Well yes and no. It's not your actual owner, cause he was selling cigarettes to underage consumers, but it will be an idealized replica of him"
"Thats... fair"
"Yes. Anyways, enjoy your new place in the afterlife!"
The dog walked up to his knew home. On the doorstep was his friend the cat. She playfully batted as his snout as she always did before rubbing up against him. They both went in through the doggy door to find their old appartment exactly as they left it. Inside was their owner... and a copy of the cat sitting on his lap. | Felton conjures a leash from Devine energy. And hesitates for a moment. Leashes have never been used in Heaven. It’s unthinkable. This is too important Felton thinks to himself. With grave hesitation Felton attaches Paxes leash and they race off to the spire atop the angels barracks. Along the way every angel that sees the leash recoils from the offense. While man is the master over beasts on earth; dogs have been granted special entrance to heaven for being man’s best friend. And since freewill is a big deal to heavenly beings leashes tend go against the idea. Both Pax and Felton make it to the gates of the barracks and a rather large imposing angel in the yard stops Felton and asks why he’s committed such a crime to attach a leash to a dog.
“I commit no crime as only to help lead him to see Micheal. “ he pleads, in a heavy whisper he continues, “ he’s lived with a Fae!”
Confused the the big angel not liking the leash allows Fenton and Pax to pass.
Realizing that Fenton has made a mistake using the leash. Pax stops cold.
“I know you felt you needed this but remove the leash before Micheal sees it. I promise to heel.”
With hesitation Felton removes the leash. The two rush on though the hall up the stair cases and crash through Micheal the Archangels doors! | 2022-08-13T20:04:50 | 2022-08-13T16:46:10 | 30 | 22 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later | The very first time it happened, I was brushing my teeth before bed. Toothpaste isn't the best thing to have in your mouth when you transport; I learned that straightaway. I should have been more concerned with why I had been brushing my teeth in my bathroom one minute and the next standing in my first girlfriend's bedroom, where she was struggling to finish her math homework. Instead I wondered what the side effects of swallowing too much toothpaste were.
From the second time it happened, I learned several very important things: to never be doing something for very long, never drive anywhere, don't cook on stoves. Things like that. I found reading books was the best activity to indulge in, as I don't think a falling book has ever killed anyone. Every time I transported, my girlfriend learned something new about me (Though I thought it seemed rather unfair since every time I transported, I was midway through an activity, and without the context of said activity, I wound up looking like a psychopath. Transporting to her family dinner soaking wet and naked sure does kill the mood) but the more she learned about me, the more disinterested she seemed, and after three weeks of being transported to her side, she dumped me. Much to our surprise, for the first day at least, I would leave her and walk out the door, only to immediately be transported back to her side. That first day was pretty awkward.
By the third week, I learned that I have a sailor's mouth. Upon transporting, I was hardly capable of anything more than an obscenity, which really got weird on Sunday mornings when a transporting teenager appears in church and screams the F-word.
We've gone years now living like this, with me popping in and out of her life unexpectedly. We've become friends of a sort. There's really no other choice. We see each other every day for ten minutes or so. I show up, and with a simple nod, we work out whatever she needs doing. It somehow works for us. She told me the other day that she sometimes creates situations to bring me to her, and I'm not sure how I feel about that.
Anyway, here I am. Ten years later. I know it sounds so incredibly unbelievable, but it's all true. I feel like it is a super power, but a really boring one. Really only useful to one person. That's life though, at least for me. I long for the day when I can wake up and not be called away right when I'm busy doing someth |     My day had started off normal enough. I wasn't planning on going out today, so I just lounged around in my bath robe. I didn't want to spend all day in bed, however.
    I hoisted myself out of bed then shambled into the kitchen. I opened the cupboard, stared at the empty shelf for a moment, then shuffled over to the sink. I grabbed the least dirty bowl in the sink and rinsed it thoroughly, splashing a bit of dish-soap on it, then wiping it with a paper towel.
    I'll spare you the rest of the boring details of my morning routine. Suffice to say, my day started off normally enough, I was about to take a sip of coffee when I found myself sitting in a church pew, along side many people wearing tuxedos and fancy dresses, and I could only think one thing.
    *Aww hell, not again,*
    My ex of ten years past stood in front of the pulpit, in front of some guy in a tuxedo, with a priest clearly officiating over the cermony between them. I knew I was here because she needed me, but what the hell did she need me to do?
    "Should anyone here present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace."
    *Oh. Shit.* | 2017-03-22T21:33:02 | 2017-03-22T19:05:04 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] Death is surprised when you lose in the game for your life, it says "This is the first time in over two thousand years that my opponent did not cheat." | She stared at him, his pallid skin hanging loose along his jaw as it trembled as he coughed once again, covering his handkerchief with another round of mucus and germs which gleamed in the light of the candle on the table set in front of them.
He frowned as he moved another piece along the colorful squares. "Oh Drat! not the molasses swamp!" He chuckled as he sunk back into his armchair. He looked up at her, perhaps trying to pierce the dark vale of her empty eye sockets.
He shuffled as she slowly drew a new card to reveal the next color. Her long fingers dragged the piece through the jolly drop mountains to find the cards corresponding square.
"Good lord! a commanding lead, indeed. I fear not the games not over yet." He snorted as he once again slowly picked himself up dragging his weight back to her eye level. She drifted her hand over his as he tried to pick up a card. Her long white phalanges covering his chubby dark ones.
*Why this game?* She spoke. The tendrils of the void behind reality thrumbed with it. The spaces whispered to the mice in the walls and brought them peace. The spiders weaving webs created masterpieces in honor of those greater weaves that they would never see. She rarely said anything. it changed things. Her presence changed things, necessary as it was.
He sighed as her words blew on his life as child blows on a dandelion. He grasped her long cold fingers as he continued staring at her. He ground out his next words as he slowly found his breath.
"I had a daughter. You took her from me 30 years 2 months and a day ago." His jowl trembled as he gulped holding in tears that had been his constant company for half his life.
"I do not know if you will remember her as the farmer does not remember one piece of grain he reaps. But if you asked her to play a game too, this is the game she would have asked for. I do not seek another way back into the world. All I ask is you remember and tell me what happened to her."
She pulled together her cape and rose above him. Her shadow covering the sofa as he shifted uncomfortably, reminded of who he had been talking too.
She grabbed him, long fingers putting creases into his flesh that he could not feel. She held him to her and put on the face that she had not worn in a lifetime.
*She won* | There had been a weird moment, where Karly almost wanted to cheat. She had lived a life of stolen moments. She often felt her life was not her own, working against the person she should have been.
Karly didn't know what to think of Death when he approached her. Karly had been standing on the curb, waiting for the light to change. In the spirit of getting healthier, she had been walking to work. She had missed the sound of the horn, the squealing tires, as someone jumped the curb and hit her.
So when Death stood beside her, still on the same curb, she almost laughed. He was wearing street clothes, draped in shiny black track material. He even had on the latest shoes. Yet his face, skin so tight she could almost count his teeth, seemed more pleasant than most joggers. He was looking at her, not through her.
"I think I made a mistake," Karly said.
"And what would that be?" Death asked.
"I shouldn't have had my music so loud," Karly said. Then she shrugged. "Do they have music in the afterlife?"
"I can't say," Death replied. "It depends on the person."
Karly smiled. "I don't believe you. I think there will always be music. Just maybe not *Story of a Girl.*" She looked down at her body, now turning gray against all the colors of the world.
"You can retry," Death said.
"Like a video game?" Karly asked.
"Yes."
"What's the cost?" Karly wondered.
"There is no cost," Death said. "You just have to avoid doing this again."
Karly shook her head. "No thank you."
"But you have a chance to put me off," Death said. "Don't you want that?"
"What if I am okay with it?" Karly asked. "This doesn't seem like... a bad thing. I don't know, I guess I just am done trying."
| 2017-07-16T19:39:10 | 2017-07-16T14:05:31 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] You are an immortal serial killer. You were caught and sentenced to life in prison. The prison is starting to get suspicious of why you won't age. | I could hear the muffled voice of Williams coming down the corridor. As he passed cell doors, I heard him saying to his companion the name of the inmate, the reason he was on “The Last Mile” and how long he’d been there. It was something I’d heard happening many times, a ritual or a routine whenever Williams had a visitor or someone to impress.
The names were familiar to me, but I’d never seen them in person; they don’t allow Last Mile inmates to fraternise. I knew their voices. Andy with his 40-a-day grumble, Mike’s voice that sang and swooped. Gerry who had a silky tenor voice that I knew he’d used to seduce the women he’d slaughtered. Frank, well, Frank was just Frank - he always sounded nervous. I’d talk with those voices late in the evening when the guards had gone home. Some had been around long enough to get to know me a bit, but no-one had been here as long as me.
Williams got to my cell. I stood and waited opposite the door. The hatch scraped back, revealing a rectangle of his face with another set of eyes behind him. William’s face was fleshy, but betrayed signs of age in the wrinkles. The hair was grey, tired and thin. As he peered at me over his half-moon spectacles, he announced me to his visitor.
“And this, is Jimmy Wait.” I raised an eyebrow ever so slightly and Williams quickly corrected himself. “Err, ah, sorry, I mean this is James Wright. Um. He’s our longest resident.”
The second set of eyes narrowed. “Why’s he been here so long? He’s long overdue, no court proceedings or pardon on the way. Why so long?”
“Well, Mr Kingsley, it’s not like we’ve not tried a few times.” Williams’ eyes attempted to pierce my gaze. I smiled slightly at him and looked straight back. My smile didn’t reach my eyes, they were still cold and stony. A blink could wait.
“What happened last time? Surely you can’t be making this many mistakes with an inmate. The governor wouldn’t have stood for it.”
I decided to have some fun. “It’s not his fault Mr Kingsley. I’m afraid it’s mine.” I could see Williams colour - his cheeks becoming rosy red. He didn’t like me. I didn’t fit the mould. However, Mr Kingsley’s eyes narrowed further. This was fun, the most fun I’d had since they last changed the guard.
“It’s like this Mr Kingsley. On the first occasion back in 1945, they used a firing squad, then in 1956 it was the electric chair. In 1963 a lethal injection. I think they’re still wondering what to try next.” I allowed a small smile to appear on my lips.
Kingsley’s eyes disappeared as he looked down at something. I heard a folder opening and a lot of paper shuffling. “Errr. One sec…” he said. I was happy to wait.
Finally, he looked up. “This can’t be possible. He’s been here since 1924! He murdered those people in 1921. It says here he was twenty-two when he arrived.” Kingsley’s eyes came back to mine. “And that means he’s seventy eight now!”
Williams glanced down at the folder Kingsley must have been carrying. “I know. That’s what I thought when I came here too. Heh. You get used to it.”
“Mr Wright, what is going on here? What are you doing? Why are you still alive?” Kingsley voice betrayed a vulnerability. Good.
“It’s simple Mr Kingsley. I just wait.”
“What do you mean, you just wait?” I could see Williams recognising a familiar conversation.
“Oh, just that. I wait.”
“Mr Williams?” Ah. It was that point when the incoming wanted to talk privately with the outgoing. I could wait.
The faces disappeared from the cell hatch. The footsteps faded. Unusually Williams had left the cell hatch open. That was good. I’d waited a long time for that.
I could hear murmuring further up the corridor. Intangible voices, a conversation of some interest was on-going. I’d waited long enough, today was the day to join in.
I retrieved the wire I’d had taken from the electric chair back in 1956 and attached it to the key. They’d not changed the cell door keys since the 1920’s, what was the point? I’d memorised all the keys by 1936 – the guards used to just have them hanging there on their key-chain, so easy to see. During the 1940’s I’d created a set of keys from metal I’d managed to extract from the bed. It had taken a long time, but I could wait.
Now, at last, they’d left the hatch open, unattended. The first time in more than twenty thousand days.
They were surprised when I joined them in their heated debate. Even more surprised when the blade whispered through their jugulars. The keys worked just as I knew they would. Time had been kind. Only seventy odd years this time. I really must get more careful, but hey, I could wait…
| The cell door slammed open, light slanting in lazy rays through the bars.
I studied the guard carefully as he treaded into the darkness of my abode. He couldn't so much as discern my form in lighting this low, but I could see him clearly. An amused chuckle broke from my lips as the guard cautiously called for me.
I slowly stepped into the dull circle of light, dust motes swirling around me. Don't ask me why I even landed up in here. I suppose after a few thousand years I needed something else to interest me.
You see, I'm quite unique. It's not often I tell this to people, so make a point of listening. I was born a little over a thousand years ago, and over the years I still have not ascertained the origins of my... curse. You mortals may see immortality as the greatest blessing, but in truth it is the polar opposite. Living forever begins to drain one after a few hundred years. The people you meet and the bonds you form are so brief as they wither away while you persist. It's fairly depressing, I'll have you know.
That's why I found a new hobby. Killing. I'm not a man sparse of justice - I only target criminals. Over the centuries as human weaponry has evolved, my love of slaughter has grown exponentially. It also becomes quite the laughing matter when your victims try resist. My favorite cases are those that lose all trigger control. Every time my body is shredded by hails of bullets, knives, and all manners of weapons I relish in seeing the shocked face of my assailant as I regenerate effortlessly. The last thing they hear his my arrogant laughter...
Enough about me though, back to the matter at hand.
I followed the guard to the Warden's office, where I was informed of my incoming execution. Electric chair. How tacky. A snort escaped my nose and the Warden stared at me with an expression of profound disbelief. I guess that's not how they expect death row inmates to respond. I was promptly escorted back to my cell, the heavy steel grid sliding down to mark my solitude. Unbeknownst to them I could tear that gate to shreds and rampage through the prison without even breaking a sweat. This time though I was out for a different experience.
Remember when I told you immortality was a curse? I've been searching for a long time to find a way to break that curse. I've tried dying thousands of times, only to find that the grave cannot hold me over and over again. This was yet another attempt to finally end myself, and one which was destined to fail. I can never escape. I'm doomed to an eternity wandering the earth and taking the souls of the wicked.
I was escorted to the cramped room with a single grim looking apparatus in the center. I did not resist as I was strapped down. The current coursed through my nerves, torching my internal organs. Maniacal laughter burst from my mouth as I burned alive. This was one of the most exciting deaths I'd experienced. As quickly as it began it was over, and the cleanup crew came to remove my disintegrated body.
You should have seen the looks on their faces as my sinews began to sow together and flesh sprouted from my blackened "corpse". Their ashen faces made a wide smile stretch in a sinister manner across my visage.
The thing is, although I don't usually kill innocents, I enjoy it occasionally. These two fools simply happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I tore both of them to bloody tatters while the petrified execution team watched on through the protective glass. A simple flick was enough to shatter the bulletproof barrier into thousands of razor shards, eviscerating the remnants of my supposed executors.
The CCTV footage clearly alerted the guards, as forty of them stood wait as I tore the padded titanium door clean off its hinges. I enjoyed the feeling of my body being ripped apart by hundreds of 9mm bullets, my flesh tearing to pieces. I let them have their moment of relief as they cautiously stalked over to me, a rookie unloading a few more clips into my side. I would have played dead for a little longer just to see the undertaker's expression, but the hushed whisper of: "I think we killed that fucking monster" just cracked me up. I couldn't contain my laughter as they panicked, realizing I was still much alive and their ammunition was depleted. My body quickly returned to normal as bullets were exhumed from my flesh and my skin sewed itself flawlessly shut.
I closed my eyes and listened to the music of screams. This was indeed the most fun I've had in ages. | 2016-10-15T10:46:42 | 2016-10-15T09:54:14 | 51 | 21 |
[WP] You die in a car accident and go to the afterlife. Everything is amazing until you meet several generations of relatives who are disgusted by your modern behaviour and all, "want a word." | You died in a car accident at the age of forty-two, somewhere in rural Maine. It wasn’t your fault; the road was covered in sheer black ice. Once your tires started to spin, there was nothing you could have done to avoid hitting the ditch and rolling five times. At least Claire wasn’t in the car with you.
You lived a good life—really, you did—filled with great friendships and fulfilling work and a wife who loved you as much as you loved her. All things considered, you wouldn’t have done a thing differently.
After you died, I brought you to the afterlife. I watched you sit down and stare, all bright-eyed like a little kid, at everything around you.
“Do you have any regrets?” I asked you.
“A few. Most of them seem stupid now.”
“Most?”
Your face twisted. “I’ve always wished I knew more about my mother and her family. She died when I was three.”
I knew that already; I’d carried her to the afterlife too.
“And my dad,” you continued, “he didn’t like talking about her. I should’ve tried harder to learn about her: who she was, what she liked.”
“Would you like to meet her?”
I almost felt bad when I saw how your eyes lit up.
“She’s been asking to have a word with you, too,” I said.
I *did* feel bad when you cried when you first saw your mother.
“How come you never had kids?” She didn’t hold back her words; she stared straight into your eyes. “I wanted grandchildren.”
Your mouth gaped open, like a fish. “Well—well, Claire and I never really wanted that lifestyle...”
“How selfish.” She shook her head. “Your great-grandfather is also here. He has a few things to say.”
You shrunk back into the collar of your shirt.
“I can’t believe you let your wife work,” he said. His bristled mustache did nothing to hide his disapproving frown. “It would have been alright if she was a secretary or a nurse—but you let her do *that*?”
You stumbled over your words. “She wanted to work.” You tried to brush a layer of sweat off your brow, not realizing you couldn’t sweat here. “Claire loved doing woodwork. Have you seen the oak bookshelves she made for our cabin? They were gorgeous.”
He looked down his nose at you. “You sat in an air-conditioned office all day.”
Your great-grandmother came to his side. She nodded in agreement at her husband’s words. “What good did you do? You wasted your life playing with toys.”
“*Toys*?” The anger seeped into your voice. “I worked on developing AI.”
Your mother, your great-grandfather, and your great-grandmother all shook their heads. “You wasted your life.”
“No children.”
“But maybe that was for the better, seeing as you couldn’t even provide for your wife.”
“What did you do, other than stare at machines?”
“Did you ever lift a finger?”
“Paid someone else to fix your car.”
“Ordered food to your doorstep three nights a week.”
“What a disappointing life.”
You blinked. Your face relaxed. “I definitely wasted my life on something,” you said, your voice flat and emotionless. “Thank you for showing me.” You smiled with your mouth pressed into a flat line.
You turned to me. “I’m ready to move on, now.”
I nodded and reached for you. Your mother and her family faded into the ether. “Do you have any regrets?”
“No,” you shook your head, “no, I really don’t.”
---
/r/liswrites | "Road head and coke? Really Johnny?"
Grandma was always a bitch. She never truly understood the genius that was Johnny 'The Sex' Johnson.
"You robbed a charity auction for dying orphans" She carried on, whilst being consoled by his deceased uncle.
Johnny was a rebel. He got his name 'The Sex' when he started walking into rooms shouting 'The Sex is here'. He would do this at Parties, Birthdays, Funerals, anywhere where the room needed to know that 'The Sex' had arrived. Professional vlogger by day and a petty thief and racist by night. He had started dating Stacy a few months ago. Sure she was 47 and more sedated than other girls his age, but she was 'bitchin' according to Johnny. She was in the car during the coke fueled, road head, orphan stealing incident which had ended his life.
"I have questions" a random and oddly dressed man said at the back.
"The fuck are you?" Johnny carelessly said as he searched his pocket for his crack pipe.
"Reginald Johnson, I served in the great war and died in the somme. What is road head?"
"With a name like Reginald, you'll never know" Johnny, after the 'sick burn' he gave to Reginald, looked for a hi five from any of his caveman ancestors.
There were murmurs in the room of disapproval and disgust.
"Fuck you all, you don't know me, i'm a professional"
"Day drinking isn't a profession" Said Great Aunt Jean. Shaking her head disapprovingly.
"You all died like bitches, at least I went out in style"
"You had an OAP's mouth round your cock"
"Hella good head though" He said as he offered a fist bump to the same confused cavemen.
Then Johnny felt a tug on his boot cut ripped jeans. As he looked down to see who was fucking with his threads. He saw him. Skipper. His first dog.
"Play?" The dog said excitedly
"What?"
"Play, lets play, i've been waiting to play with you!"
Johnny forgot this dog. It had passed away when he was 8 and he had never really been the same. It had waited for 20 years for him and didn't have a bad word to say.
"Play?" The dog insisted.
The room was silent, the people that knew Johnny when he was still alive had never seen him this engaged with anything. Something matter to him for once.
"I can't right now"
"When play?"
"I don't know"
"Play with skipper" His grandmother said.
"I'll do what you want"
"Do you want to play with the dog?" she responded quickly
"Maybe"
"Then do what you want"
There was a silence as the dog didn't take his eyes off him. Johnny, stubbon to not let his family affect his descions, was torn to do what he wanted, and to resist what they wanted. He stood up in a huff, grabbed the ball at his feet and took Skipper away.
"That plan worked" Grandma said. "He always loved that dog, I think he missed it as much as it missed him"
"Doesn't excuse his behavior" Reginald said
"No, but its a step in the right direction." | 2019-07-24T09:04:59 | 2019-07-24T08:53:01 | 3,192 | 287 |
[WP] Due to a clerical error, the hero is sent with the wisest thief, the fastest wizard, the smartest warrior, and the strongest preist. | 'And what are you supposed to be?' the hero asked the last man.
'I am a pre-ist,' the man said very carefully. He looked more like a warrior, his biceps bulging as he easily lifted up his package, but
The hero waited until he realized no further clarification would come without prompting.
'What's a pre-ist?' he asked, almost dreading the answer.
'Depends on who you ask. It's either the opposite of a priest, a priest from before there were priests or a heather abomination/clerical error.'
The hero blinked and decided to leave it. 'How can you help?'
'I can fight,' the pre-ist said. 'I can fight while carrying all your luggage and not drop any of it, provided it's attached good enough.'
The hero looked at the wizard, who was attempting to make his luggage fly ahead. 'I am sure he can help with attaching,' he said, and left them to it.
Soon enough, it was decided the pre-ist would carry all the essentials, the warrior and the thief would decide on strategy (until the warrior nearly killed the thief after one pithy saying too many, and the thief sulked and absentmindedly stole the map from under him), and the wizard would scout ahead. As the wizard disappeared from sight, the hero spurred his horse, until he rode next to the warrior.
TBC | In all my years, I have never encountered a hero such as this. They called me Zafar the Undefeated but after this fight I attest that such a nickname is worthless.
Here I was in an open field after just killing Lemesh of Light. I stood proud with my blood running hot through my body. “Hahahahahha” I yelled being happy at my victory. My victory came fast and easy, proving that my strength was indeed valid by killing the countries hero so easily.
So imagine my face when this hero arrived. He wore an all black attire, with a wizards hat, and a cross necklace.
“Are you the court jester here” I remarked and this hero kissed his cross, made a sign of the cross, and then summoned a gold energy beam in the shape of a hammer and defeated me with one hit.
What made it worse was the fact that he stole the treasures that I had acclaimed that day and most importantly he stole my title of undefeated.
I will never forgive or forget you, Merlin. | 2021-02-27T09:11:27 | 2021-02-27T09:08:42 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] You are easily the most powerful wizard in existence, but are too embarrassed to use your spells because your magic words sound super lame. | A wizard, fully clothed in a red loose robe, stood in front of the seven masters of magic. The wizard's hair went all the way down to his knees, black like his skin. He held in his hands a small piece of wood--his wand.
"You claim to be the mightiest wizard in existence?" the tallest of the seven masters asked.
"Please, don't even bother," the shortest of the seven masters hissed.
"Show us your skills," the fattest of the seven masters said, "or simply back away."
The other masters of magic were silent, for they were studying the wizard with their wise eyes.
But the wizard remained quiet, not bothering to utter a single word. His eyes were, however, very focused.
The mightiest of the seven masters got up and grabbed his wand. "Come, foolish wizard. Fight me now and show your skill. Or be killed."
The wizard held his hand out in front of him. "One spell," he said.
The mightiest of the seven masters laughed. He raised his wand and yelled, "Perago cu--"
"Scrub-a-doo!" the wizard interrupted the mightiest of the masters.
A yellow spark hit the mightiest of the masters, sending him tumbling down onto the ground. He was barely alive. His chest was moving up and down, but he was defeated.
The wizard flushed. "I hate myself..." he whispered.
The remaining masters of magic were all silent, stolid expressions on their faces.
Then, the shortest of the masters got up and raised his wand. In a flurry of emotions, he tried to cast a spell.
But the wizard beat him to it, yelling, "Scrub-a-doo!"
Another of the masters got up.
But the wizard yelled, "Scrub-a-doo!" And the master was defeated.
One by one, the masters of magic kept attacking, but the wizard kept defeating. Each time he shouted his spell, "Scrub-a-doo!"
After the last master of magic fell, the wizard sat on the floor.
"I hate myself..." he whispered. He flushed again.
Hidden inside a closet, a young girl was watching. She was very excited. Later, she would go on to tell everyone in her village of the "Scrub-a-doo!" wizard.
From that simple village, the story would spread to the biggest towns in the world. And from there, the story would spread to the history of the world.
To this day, no one knows who the "Scrub-a-doo!" wizard was, but a statue of him still stands. | \[CC\]
*Its amazing* thought Mandrac the wizard *That something so powerful could be so...basic*
He thought this lounging in his throne in his hall. The thousands of candle gave it a flicking light. He stood and stretch and headed to the balcony. When he reach the barrier of balcony he surveyed the land before him. He, not for the first time, marveled at what he had build. The tower that he was in was surrounded by a city of pure marble and beyond the walls a pristine landscape stretch out.
*All of this came from just some stupid words.* He thought *I mean come on, abracadabra, alakazam, and even boppity could turn armies into stone, command demons, and even raise the dead.*
The professors may had a point to locking those spells away. Not for the danger of the world or even driving people mad (*Well, maybe some people mad)* but because you would get laugh off the battlefield. In fact in must have been so embarrassing that the founders of his school actually try to make up new and better spells with awesome names and sounds. They failed of course.
Mandrac had broken into the chamber of hidden spells and stole them to gain some prestige. He didn't believe the words on the pages at first, until he turned his pet parrot into a human by saying *Gazoo.* So he fled the school with the book, thinking he would be killed.
That ended up being anticlimactic because the head master begged him not expose the secrets of the book, thus causing embarrassment to the school. Mandrac, despite his evil sounding name, agree because its better for the non-magic users to think that wizard used powerful words instead of sounding like a kid's magician. So he kept quiet, in return for a city to rule. He would use the words sometimes to defend himself or his land. The only good thing about these goofy words was that they were so powerful, no one was left laughing at the end. | 2018-08-01T12:07:44 | 2018-08-01T11:24:43 | 76 | 16 |
[WP] A person's superpowers emerge during- and relate to- a highly stressful moment in their life. Your brother nearly drowned, and as a result could shape water to his will. A classmate fell from a high balcony, and ended up learning to fly. You? You just got your powers last night. | Fuck it imma write one of these let’s see what happens (I have had too little sleep as compared to the hours I’ve been awake...)
I was standing outside my house on the curb facing the street. Which was strange because I’m pretty sure I wasn’t here a moment ago.
Is this a dream? No... my thoughts are too coherent. Maybe this is lucid dreaming? That’s means I can fly or clap my hands and Obama shows up, right?
Welp. No Obama.
Looking at the sun I’m guessing it’s 10 am. There’s nobody out which is strange. Usually there’s at least one person walking their dog or *something.*
What was I doing last, let’s work through this. I was inside... it was dark, I’m fairly certain I was the only one home. I turned off my bedroom light so the only thing bright was the bedside lamp, I flipped on the bed, and then... nothing. Then I was standing up here.
This is my house, this is my neighborhood, that is Amy’s car up the street driving towards me. What am I missing?
“Hey Depresso what’s up?” She came to a stop in front of me.
“Bonjour bitch.” I retorted distractedly before ducking my head through the passenger window and leaning on the door. “Yeah?”
“Right so I’m off to work now but I thought ild swing by to ask if you’d be willing to hop on discord around 6ish to help me with my C# code. I’m just going in circles trying to build it and I’m not getting anywhere.”
“Did we not finish that yesterday?” That’s what I was doing before collapsing into my bed. “We spent a few hours trying to get filters and items to interact properly before realizing we hadn’t properly formatted them?”
“What?! No we were just assigned it today and unless I’m going crazy we haven’t worked together since last quarter”
“Today? Oh that’s right you have Saturday classes.” I rolled my eyes but was interrupted before I could continue
“It’s Friday, are you ok? You seem a little off.”
“Fuck if I know. Got powers last night, hug up with you and crashed on my bed before finding myself here feeling like im in a dream. That checks out with the cotton brain.”
“You got powers last night!” Amy cheered. “What are they!?!”
Wait, what? I did. Why do I know that? Why does that just feel right. What are my powers? I couldn’t fly, I don’t feel the water in the air. I didn’t summon Obama. “Uhhh...”
“Cmon please tell me I won’t judge.” She said
Fixing her code wasn’t stressful, or dangerous. I mean it was tedious but nothing like Alex or Jack had it. Why can’t I think, What’s happening I was fine not 30 seconds ago before Amy showed up now I can’t think my brain isn’t working
“I don’t know.”
Let’s go back what was last I closed the work window turned off my laptop then the lights and fell back with my eyes covered by my arm
“What do you mean, how do you not know your powers?”
It was Friday I’m sure of it Amy had called my to ask for help on this very thing and I had I had helped and had helped for too many hours it was late
“I mean I don’t know“
People only get powers during or after extremely high stress situations and those powers are related to the experience or help you get out or safe from whatever happened so something must have happened to me no stop it calm down you’re not thinking. That it just take deep breaths in out in, out, in, relaxe, breath, get your thoughts in order. Today is yesterday. Something moved you back a day, twelve hours. What happened to cause this? Well something big, and it seems like it also screws with my memory. No because a straight Groundhog Day is too good for nature- you have to add some caveat.
But what does this mean? What does this matter for?
Oh
That’s cruel
Crude, but what else could it be?
Something happens tonight that almost kills me. | *Terror. Drowning in it. Feeling your legs and arms and hands tremble uncontrollably. Feeling your lips ready to cry, feeling that icy iron hand of fear grasping your soul. Begging to be allowed to scream. Only to have the hand of a man over your mouth, shutting you up.*
*Hardly being able to breath through your nose, pleading for a broader gap. Fighting, struggling, without ever saving yourself. And when you finally give up, paralyzed by terror and with tears in your eyes, when you give in to the trembling, the man will have won.*
*And he will do whatever he well wants with you. And you won't make a sound, for you will have been broken.*
*And you will lie in bed, long after he's gone, crying. Grieving for an innocence sacrificed at the altar of abuse, to a cruel, sadistic God...*
I darted up from the bed, screaming "NO". Abel, startled from his bed next to me, turned to look.
" Vania, what the fu-"
He freezes. His eyes go dim. His muscles contract, I can see it below his night gown. Without warning, he begins trembling. A tremble I knew all too well.
It was the tremble of absolute, shattering horror. The fear of expectation, knowing exactly what torturous fate awaits you, yet it delaying only by the whim of a torturer.
**Your** torturer. Your very own devil. And the once homely room becomes a dungeon, of horrors no-one but **you** will ever see.
I became painfully aware that his terror was my doing. Immediately, I tried to make it stop. I didn't want to hurt my brother. He was just trying to help.
Like an obedient dog, whatever horrors I had unleashed upon Abel's mind retreated back to me. Abel fell back, on his bed, and came to his senses. With cold sweat running down his spine, he glared at me.
**What was that, Vania? What the hell was that?"**
Gradually understanding myself, I nodded slowly. "My newly acquired power, Abel."
My voice felt different. Soft, but with an underlying harshness. It wasn't the first time I dreamt about that night. Many a time before had I felt that man's hands on me, the rough rope flay my wrists. That piece of cloth in my mouth, stopping my cries from calling for help...
And the sheer terror. Unfiltered, raw, grim. Unending. Constant. A fear that never, in all my life, will go away.
I realised, belatedly, that I was crying again. Abel came close to me reluctantly. He sat by me, and put a tender arm around my shoulders. I flinched at his touch, but he didn't move away.
"Is... *that*, why you moved back in with me?" I nod positively, unable to speak through my sobs.
Abel pulled me towards him, and, unwillingly at first, I leaned on his chest and cried. He simply hugged me, with trembling arms, and pressed me against his body.
"It's gonna be okay. Calm down, it's all over now..."
It wasn't over. Powers have influence over their master. Every time Abel controlled the water, a small portion of that feeling of drowning returned. And every time I raised a wall of horror, from then on, a part of my own trauma returned.
I would never be free of my fear. I couldn't fight it, just as though Abel couldn't fight it that very night. I couldn't escape, just like he couldn't.
I was trapped. And that, for all intents and purposes, was *horrifying*... | 2021-04-01T00:39:51 | 2021-03-31T22:15:25 | 115 | 43 |
[WP] Write a new response to the first prompt you ever replied to. | Original Prompt: [You live on a world where soulmates are identified by matching intricate birthmarks. You just met your dream partner, but noticed their mark isn't quite the same as yours... Although nothing that a good tattooist couldn't sort...](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4kvin6/wp_you_live_on_a_world_where_soulmates_are/d3i9b4p)
***
It’s her. I recognized it right away, there on her shoulder. I only saw a flash of it as she shut the door behind her, but we had the same swirls and flowing floral pattern.
“Look. I know it’s unorthodox, but he’s perfect. 6 feet, blonde, muscular, smart- We’ll make beautiful children. You just have to fill in these three swirls. Then my mark will match his and we’ll live happily ever after.” She was insistent that I ‘fix’ her mark. Her stubborn stare burned me right to the core. So damn annoying, so damn attractive. And when she started to explain her ‘Life Plan’ I had to cross my arms to hide the way my chest quivered as I tried to stifle laughter. She was absurd and ridiculous and beautiful. And those puppy dog eyes and fake tears. I was in trouble with this girl, and I didn’t even know her name.
I did know she was supposed to be mine. How could I guarantee to her that I could be all that she wanted? I’m not Mr. Tall-Blonde-and-Perfect. I’m covered in tattoos, dark hair, with an earring. I make and sell art and travel the world when I’ve saved up enough money. This clearly isn’t the life she wants. So I’ll do it.
“If you’re sure you want this guy over your real match, lay down on the table. I’ll prep everything.” I sighed and moved to prepare my machine. I heard her slide onto the cold metal table and I turned. Her shoulder mark was fully visible now and it made my knees weak. She was really the one, she was my match.
I steadied my hand and leaned gently on her back to keep her from moving too much. The familiarity of the electric buzz soothed my raging emotions. As I put the needle into her skin for the first time I heard her gasp. I turned my glanced into the mirror to see her staring at me with a hand touching her neck. Touching her neck right where my matching mark was.
| **Write a beloved children's story as if it was an edgy sci-fi thriller.** {prompt by u/mistaque}
Fifteen years of hiding had not saved me from my fate, but it had prepared me. I lay on my bunk in a cabin the size of a closet, waiting for the drug to take hold. My golden curls spilled over the side; it was the first time I had let them out of a tight bun for almost a year. My insulator, a thin uniform that would protect me should the hull breach and release us to space, lay folded on my single metal shelf. Wearing it would give me no safety. Should the ship break, I was already dead.
Who was I kidding, I *was* already dead. I just refused to acknowledge it.
The syringe tumbled to the metal grate flooring, but its fluid raced through my blood. The content mixed with the poison already tainting me in a blur of fire. Breath exploded from my lungs as the fire expanded, eating my cells, burning through my nerves, until my world was flames and agony. Then, the dark took me.
The coma settled over me like a blanket, thick and cool after the inferno. It froze over the poison, stilling its deadly touch. I had only three days remaining before the poison would have take me, but the coma paused that.
A smile curled my lips. My godmothers did not know what I had done, nor did they know how I had shifted the formula. I would not move, eat, or even age for a hundred years, stopping the poison in my veins until that day, but I would not be asleep. My spirit would be free, roaming the universe to find a real cure, while my body waited in space.
No one would see me, no one would hear me, but I could search. I let my eyes close. Alone, for a hundred years... but not dead.
Of course, I was wrong about that, but there wouldn't be a story had I been right. I could die, even as a ghost, and I wasn't alone. Even ghosts had people they could not hide from. | 2016-06-21T08:08:09 | 2016-06-21T07:59:32 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] Write a really BAD guide for getting a guy/girl. Bonus points if the narrator is mocking you for still being single.
[removed] | Sitting alone in your basement lurking on shitty dating sites won't get you anywhere, today I'm here to tell you about the DENNIS system. Follow these steps carefully and you can achieve the undying love of any female you encounter.
>--------
**D** Demonstrate value:
Demonstrate your value to your selected female by doing something that shows you care, picking up medicine for your dying grandmother at the pharmacy is a great way to do this (it doesn't have to be true either! as long as you do a good job selling it)
>----------
**E** Engage physically:
Take her to a shitty restaurant, someplace even worse than the sty you call home. Make sure the restaurant is closed, that way, when you get there, say that you should both just head back to your place and watch a movie. Make sure to have a TV in your bedroom for this, proceed to bang.
>---------
**N** Nurture dependence:
A good way to do this step is to call her number (from a payphone) as an angry neighbor, threatening to take her life and trash her house for a reason that is beyond her control. She'll call you out of sheer horror and you'll be there to comfort her in her time of need
>---------
**N** Neglect emotionally:
Continue the prank calls, but don't answer her calls to you, neglect her every need, sending her into an emotional downward spiral.
>-----------
**I** Inspire hope:
Show up at her window saying that you're sorry for everything, that you want a chance to do it again, make up a story about how you were afraid to love and she cured you of it. Proceed to bang.
>-------------
**S** Separate entirely:
Leave in the middle of the night never to be heard from again. | WANNA GET ROMANCED?? TOP THREE TIPS FOR PICKING UP A GIRL, BY A GIRL, FOR YOU GUYS
1. Make sure you smell MANLY. i wanna smell that axe body spray. Thats the stuff that gets me ovulating. Don't have axe? Don't worry! There are great DIY methods to smelling great (but don't tell us you diy it. unless you're woodworking, it's too girly). Try finding some raw meat, rub it ALL OVER.
2. Dress well, and accessorize. Show women you can defend us from any threats, and wear armor. I'm talking full chainmail armor. If the date goes well, you can show her your strength by fighting a BEAR. Accessorize with a gun. A rifle or a machine gun. Handguns are for children.
3. Conversation. You want to be able to impress her with your manliness, so make sure she doesn't need to talk by already knowing everything about her. I'm talking a thorough background check.
BONUS: Make sure she stays by giving her excellent gifts. Don't bother with diamonds! Go for things like a large crate of potatoes, a deer carcass, or even a bag of sheeps wool. Show her you can provide! | 2017-06-10T03:32:12 | 2017-06-10T02:06:13 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] You're sharing a university lab with someone, and you just found out they're a supervillain. On the one hand, you really should report this. On the other hand, they often help with your research, they're a considerate, polite lab partner, and they often bring coffee in the morning. | "Good morning Terry," I nodded as he stepped through the door in his black science coat. He smiled jovially in return and slid me a cup of coffee, medium roast with one cream just like I liked it.
"Jason!" he greeted me and stopped at my desk. "How're things coming today? Any progress on the social isolation experiments?"
"I guess you could say that. Nothing's fitting my hypotheses. The rats are weird, they..." I trailed as I could see he was poring over my notes and nodding along as though speaking to me through my notebook.
"Wow, this is great stuff," he tapped a bullet point. "You think the isolation is making this one eat more? I remember that he had the trait to get anxious around others and as a result lost weight."
"You... think Rex is overcompensating by overindulging when he's alone? Like food is a coping mechanism?" I asked, stunned I hadn't put this information together myself.
Terry shrugged, never one to take credit for an idea that popped into my head, no matter how much he lead me to it.
"Could be something to consider," he tapped a knuckle on my desk and rushed away, his coat dramatically flourishing behind him as he made his way to his station.
I looked over to his station where a mound of rat bones was stacked in one corner and a series of electric shocks started up in the other as he restarted his experiment. He allegedly got a grant to test the limits of courage in a rat when faced with death and pain, but it was very clear to me that he was testing different methods of torture. The known supervillain "Terror" was known for running his victims insane when he captured those trying to stop him, and this fit the bill to a T. But as these thoughts drove me to take a look at my phone and consider calling someone about this, I took an absentminded sip of my coffee.
And it was *good* coffee.
I was pretty sure he brewed it himself just to make my day when he found the time, but I was always amazed by how much effort he put into it. As a rat squealed and ran in circles in a test cube, Terry looked up and nonchalantly waved, as though embarrassed that his experiment was going wrong. I knew better, but I simply returned him a thumbs up in encouragement.
I plugged earphones into my head and got to tracking different values of my experiments to see if they correlated the same way Terry suggested earlier and I wasn't surprised to find that he was dead on. I could organize an entirely new experiment on it and get some definitive data but was already feeling confident with what I was seeing in my notes. I began filling out a report for my supervisor when an email notified its way to my screen and I clicked to see an urgent message from the head of the lab.
*There has been a series of break-ins that have resulted in the theft of chemicals that could create any number of weapons or bombs. If you have* **any** *information regarding who may have been in the storeroom after hours, please reply immediately.*
I pursed my lips and popped out the earbuds just as a rat was whimpering in Terry's latest test. The rat's voice trailed until it clearly passed away. My eyes widened as he looked over to me, a hungry look in his eyes that set me on edge. I needed to report this man. He was clearly dangerous and planning something incredibly sinister. I'm pretty sure he stayed late here the week before and could have easily gathered the mentioned materials from the storeroom. I began typing slowly in reply to the email.
*I believe I may know something--*
"Hey, looks like it's raining," Terry mentioned, listening to the patter of drops across our roof. "You bike, right? Want a ride home?"
I looked at him, then back to my screen, then back to him.
"Sure, that'd be great," I said, deleting the drafted email.
I would report him eventually.
I took another sip from my coffee.
*Probably.*
_____________________
/r/Nazer_The_Lazer | But they really don't seem like it, you think.
It makes you wonder if you really should believe what your roommate said about them last night, when the two of you were just shooting the shit after classes and having a drink. "Vivian Ventura," they'd said, "is planning something fucked up."
"That's rich," you had replied with a roll of your eyes, in part because you simply hadn't believed it at the time, "Especially coming from you. Weren't you at that frat house that had the piss trough bathtub in the basement just last week?"
"Look, I'm --"
"The one *notorious* for diluting their beers except if they'd drugged one?"
"Okay, yes! But that's not the point, man! That chick's fucked up!"
You had shook your head and sighed, especially because of just how inconsolable your roommate was about this. As your gaze settled back on them, you'd just slowly blinked before you flatly said, "Fine. How?"
"One of my sisters accidentally took home one of her notebooks --"
"Accidentally?"
"That's what she said, alright?"
You had nodded, if just to signal that they should continue. Now you were paying attention.
"It was full of notes. Weird ones, too. Ranting about the ERB --"
"Like, the school's ethics --"
"Yes!" your roommate had interjected to your own interjection, "Are you going to actually let me talk?"
A bit more meekly now, you had nodded again.
"Anyways, like, there were experiment notes too. Most of them were *fucked up*, girl!"
You had cleared your throat.
"Right. Sorry."
A thud at your table drew you out of the recollection. You'd barely slept last night, a bit confused by the entire conversation, but now Vivian was sitting right beside you, a bright smile on her face and, as usual, a coffee for you as well. You'd reached out for it and took a sip of it, already knowing that she'd memorized your Starbucks order without ever even needing to tell her --
With this new information revealed, that bit did feel a little bit now in retrospect. Your brow furled, and as if a reaction, Vivian Ventura's look seemed to all of the sudden grow concerned. "Is it wrong?"
You shook your head no. "Just a long night, and I'm just not ready for lab today."
You swore you saw her mirror your scowl for just a second, but you blinked and all that seemed to be there on her face afterward was a simple look of worry. "You sure, Krowman?"
She'd always really liked using your last name. This time, it brought a chuckle out of you -- if she was as awful as your roommate had described, it almost felt like using it elevated your status to that of her rival or something dumb like that. Not that you had any fighting skills whatsoever. "Yeah," you mumbled in response, suddenly acutely aware of the attention she was giving you.
She seemed to accept that, and you went to prop your head up on the table in front of you when you heard her slide her chair just ever-so-slightly closer. She was leaning in too -- "I know what your roommate said."
Oh. That wasn't good.
"I promise you, I'm not the villain they said I was."
You felt a prick in your side -- right into some of the fat that was there. You looked down to the needle, then back up to her with a look of absolute terror. She seemed sorry. | 2022-12-11T15:37:15 | 2022-12-11T14:54:25 | 109 | 61 |
[WP] You join the military, you are placed in the gardeners program. You garden in exotic places where the military has done operations, each time they give special glasses and forbid spraying others. One day your glasses fall off and you see you are actually burning corpses with a flamethrower. | >Unit 137
>PO box REDACTED
> REDACTED
> Syria
> June 20, 2017
Mrs. Vivien Ciel
1 Driveling Lane
Grandbury, Texas, 67304
It is our eternal regret to inform you of the departure of your beloved child, ROBERT CIEL, SPECIALIST (SP4). All of us here in SYRIA join together in offering our deepest condolences for your loss.
YOUR BOY~~/GIRL~~ was one of the best GARDENERS in our unit, the EXPERIMENTAL SUPPORT BATTALION. We can all attest to the excellent work he did and the many lives he saved with his GARDENING. Without him, our job here in SYRIA will be that much harder.
YOUR BOY~~/GIRL~~ has always possessed strong MORALS. Even as he was AMBUSHED, he never gave up on his MORALS, never gave up fighting to defend his countrymen back home from the OPIUM FARMERS.
Your child's last words were REMEMBER AMERICA. Unfortunately, the enemy then EXECUTED HIM~~/HER~~.
Our deepest sympathies lie with you in these troubled times. If it helps you grieve, write a letter to your congressman or woman asking for him or her to support our soldiers. With your help, YOUR BOY~~/GIRL~~'s sacrifice will not be in vain.
>Dietrich Frost
>Lieutenant Colonel
>Commander of the Experimental Support Battalion | the "corpse flower" that grows native on the indonesian islands of borneo and sumatra is beautiful plant, but the name is apt to describe it's pungent smell. but all flowers need to attract pollinators, and since the corpse flower is pollinated by beetles and flies looking for rotting meat, the smell does fulfill a purpose. pollen is carried from flower to flower and the cycle of birth and growth continues. i guess you could say even a bad smell can be beautiful in it's own way.
not surprisingly, the other gardeners and i wear a bit more protective gear than your average landscaper. the smell is unpleasant but hardly dangerous... the chemicals we use to keep the plants healthy in an obscure, non-native place like syria are another story. from the first day onward, our safety protocols are continuously burned into memory. we stand in a platoon formation and shout it at the top of our lungs every morning. there have only been a few accidents... and the chemical burns horrified the whole unit into zealous obedience.
[this is a real flower, btw.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amorphophallus_titanum) | 2017-06-20T01:06:40 | 2017-06-19T20:36:02 | 395 | 154 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily. | Politics is a hell of a thing. We saw the humans of earth fight among themselves and almost destroy their species. The Hunt Leaders of the time saw it as a fantastic opportunity and petitioned our Supremes for permission to attack.
It was granted. But politics kept us from attacking right away. The first leader assigned to conquer earth barely got permission to recruit. He was replaced for taking too long to organise.
The second managed to actually get a Party together. But that was as far as they got. In the fifth Hunt Leader. The second to break orbit, the first to reach a gravity stable region and jump.
When we arrived in the system containing earth we found the humans had made it to space. There were dozens of orbitals and ships. Most of the ships were transiting between planets, almost as many were split between the failed planetary debris field mid system and the cloud of rocks and ice in the outer system.
We quickly destroyed the orbitals in their habitable zone and kept moving towards the planet. We were met with pleas for peace. To end our attack. That they were a peaceful species and wanted to be friends.
No one had watched them during the intervening years. Such species that nearly destroy themselves rarely do anything interesting. Humans apparently, aren't like most species.
We made orbit around their home planet and quickly dispersed the fleet for landing. We weren't expecting the gently curved wing that appeared at their closet stable gravity point. The dozens of small craft that launched both from it and the planet. The half dozen escorts that accompanied the large craft.
If the Supremes had just allowed the first commander to do what he needed, we would control their system. All those resources. Instead, we arrived to a recovered, advanced, space faring society. One that held it's own against us. | We got the data. We got the intel. We knew of their past and how violent the the humans were. After continuing to watch the humans for the past 300 Earth years they become peaceful after their third global conflict. The casualties reached to 4 billion by the time it ended. The country in the western hemisphere known as "The United States" were the most affective in that war. Their only equal was another country called "Russia" and they were using strategies that allowed them to push back many of their opposing forces. The war ended wuth only the remnants of their governments. They came together and created a unified government to prevent such loss of life again. Now, we invade. They are distant from their violent past. We sent our ships to destroy their cities and show them who their masters will be. I made a fatal mistake of underestimating the humans. It only took them 1 months for them to fully mobilize their resources to war. Their soldiers were givin weapons that pierced our shields and armor. They used what ever military resource the had to down one of our ships. They reverse engineered our technology and their unity has been strengthened by the fact that we have come to dominate them. Humans, their greatest asset is not their numbers or intelligence, it is their will. There are now soldiers who have decimated our forces. Now, they have come to capture me. | 2019-02-26T08:34:44 | 2019-02-26T07:32:54 | 123 | 70 |
[WP] All your life, you've had a small empty bar on your hand that reads "XP." Today you hit and killed a man with your car, and the bar began to fill. | I got ten months for it.
It was an accident, but since I was on the phone...
Anyhow, I met another while I was in there. I caught sight of his tattoo before he saw mine - his XP bar about two-thirds full... with a small "3" under it. I tried my best to keep mine hidden after that.
The first chance I got to talk to him was three days later.
"Paul, right?" I said trying to maintain calm.
He gave a slight nod and his eyes studied mine. "You?" He asked.
"I'm Markus" I said, sitting down across the table. "What are you in for?"
"A couple murders" He said, his eyes never looking away. "You?" He asked again.
"Yea. Manslaughter. - Uhh, Involuntary" I admitted. He grinned slightly.
"What's your tat" I asked, pointing to his hand. At this, he straightened up still staring me directly in the eyes. Oops. Too direct.
"Every time I kill, I fill in the bar a little more. You know... like a video game exp bar. Just a little..." he trailed off. Pause...
Before I could react his arms darted forward and grabbed mine. He pulled my hand upright up onto the table and swiftly smashed my closed first against the steel surface. My clenched fist opened in pain and he saw my tattoo, one-third full. He smiled a devilish smile. "Level one still?... I'm on 3".
My horrified and surprised expression betrayed me and his smile widened.
"Everything.. you know.... about your life.. is.... a... lie." Paul explained. He let go slowly and motioned me to follow him as he stood up.
"Now... how would you like to... play some co-op?"
"What are you talking about? What game are we even playing??"
He responded as he walked away: "It's called... "*Outside*."" | I rushed out of my car, to check on the man I had just rammed into. He is sprawled across the road, his face bloody. He is still breathing, yet I can tell I have changed him, I have modified him, so to speak. I look down at my arm, and notice no change, and I realize my path. I must save this man, whom I so callously hurt.
I see that his leg has been mangled. Not my doing, but hitting a cripple somehow makes me feel a bit worse, yet a little better about actually saving him. How is his life? His state? No, he needs saving, he needs the light of the Holy Rapture.
I walk back to my car. It is a rural road, little traffic. How lucky (or unlucky) was he to happen to cross this road while the only car within minutes sped down? It’s better this way, it’s better this way, it’s better this way, it’s better this way. I reach into the glovebox, pull out the handgun. Rapture, I’ve named it. My companion, my friend, my vessel. I return to the man, who has began to whimper, to groan. Get this over with, get this over with, get this over with, get this over with. I point the gun at his head, and fire.
I look down at my hand, and see the change.
Level 137 at last. | 2018-07-02T05:44:20 | 2018-07-02T03:59:06 | 323 | 19 |
[WP] A lonely teenage boy asks a genie to let him talk to his future wife. The person who appears is not who he expects. | "But I want to meet her *now*! You are *my* genie, and as you said yourself, "whatever I desire is mine" except in that weirdo genie riddle-talk. I said I want to see my future wife, so where is she?" Beads of magical sweat rafted through the furrow in Gal'Mundo's brow. He glanced aside as if to consider something, then looked back at the angry little boy.
"Fine. No more riddles, kid. Which, for the benefit of your dim and dreary little brain , are the mark of higher education in the Realms Beyond Time. Just thought you might like to know." Gal'Mundo cracked his knuckles, or whatever it was that passed for knuckles in Genies. Around his fingers the air sizzled and cracked. "You want to see your wife? You got it." Just like that, Gal'Mundo disappeared in a slurpslap of nether sludge.
"Gross..." Timmy said to himself.
"Yeah fucking gross, right?" Said the voice behind him. The deep voice behind him.
"Wh- what? Where is my... Wi-Wha?" The language-like sounds that Timmy was making didn't come out the way he planned for them to. The immaculately dressed man on the red leather chaise-lounge, newly situated across the room, raised a manicured eyebrow.
"Tim, when you told me you were going to be a little immature, this is *not* what I had in mind." The words cut smooth lines through the air between them and entered Timmy's ears through the giant hole in his stomach. He shuffled his feet.
"I... thought I was going to have a wife?" It came out more as a question than a statement, and he realized he meant it that way.
"Sweetheart... damn. That could *not* be further from the truth." The man glanced at his watch, broadfaced with gold trim, thick links hugging his wrist. Tim swallowed. "Hey I've actually gotta run, future Tim is going to be so excited that I met you, he's been talking about it for ages. Oh, I'm Franco, by the way. I'll be really freaked out when you know my name. See you in a jiff, hot stuff." Once again the sound of a slab of meat being dropped into pudding, and Franco was gone. Left on the lounge chair was a gelatinous goo, which Timmy noticed was spreading rather ambitiously across the cushion.
He shook his head in disbelief. As he turned to leave, he felt a smile sneak onto his face. | 'Yes, I'm a Genie'
'Like, really a Genie?'
'Yes'
'Like, a full-blown wish-granting genie?'
'Yes, would you like to make your first wish?'
James Hollin, being thirteen, was a little bit naive about the the world and his place in it.
He was a flip-flopper, a vacillator, an individual who wasn't sure of what he wanted, whatever it was. He was one of those quiet guys who would go with the crowd in whichever way it would lead him.
He had absolutely no idea what he wanted to wish for.
'I have absolutely no idea what I want to wish for'
'Really? Surely you can come up with something?'
'I don't know'
'Well, what about the usuals? Money, Power and Women are all popular choices nowadays, especially for a boy of your age!'
The Genie cocked an eyebrow, looking for any interest from the boy.
Nothing.
James had only just started thinking about girls, but the concept of having a girlfriend wasn't foreign to him. He liked the idea of sharing his secrets with someone, going out with them and having a good time without other kids bothering him. He often wondered what the future would be like, when he didn't have to deal with annoying bullies. The idea of knowing what was in store for him intrigued James, it provided him a kind of certainty, he didn't have to be a fence-sitter if he knew the future!
Suddenly, the though popped into his mind.
'How about, for my first wish, you show me the girl I'm going to marry?'
'That's an interesting one... are you sure though? You might not like what you see'
Undaunted, James looked straight into the pale white eyes of the Genie.
'I'm sure'
Instantly, the genie evaporated in a puff of smoke, leaving what looked like a 20-something year old man in his place. He was tall and skinny, not unlike James himself, with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes, looking down, James saw a spark of recognition in the Man's eyes.
'Who are you?'
'My name is Will Hollin, pleased to meet you!'
| 2014-06-05T08:56:13 | 2014-06-05T08:03:25 | 36 | 13 |
[WP] In the midst of combat, the villain watches in terror, as the hero swallows an entire roast chicken and two cheese wheels at once. | I felt the presence of the man long before he reached my chambers. I could faintly hear the noises of him fighting my fellow fallen warriors within the crypt. As he entered my chambers, I waited until he would be able to see my coffin, then made my move. I blew the lid off my coffin and stood. My movements were precise, measured. I had always enjoyed a dramatic entrance. But the invader ignored me. He grabbed some dusty potions from a long-forgotten shelf. He stuffed them in his bag with barely a glance. He also grabbed on old bowl, some herbs, and a bucket. I thought it strange, but I didn't care for the items. I wasn't quite sure how they even got here in the first place. The potions would probably have gone bad, if that was even possible.
I didn't care for the items, but I did care about his nonchalance. I was a feared soldier in life and in death, I would not be ignored. I started toward him, dragging my sword behind me. The tip had long since dulled, and I didn't have the fine motor control to keep it aloft as I walked. He finally seemed to decide to give me the time of day, and turned to face me, drawing his weapon. A warhammer of the same era as myself. As I realized that he must have taken it off one of my men, I advanced, enraged. I swung wildly at him, with a windup that even the most inexperienced fighter could have avoided. A downside of my body being held together by little more than rotting muscle and hardened skin. He avoided my swing, and went low, hitting me hard with the hammer. It barely hurt - I had long since abandoned mortal feelings of pain - but I knew it would leave lasting damage that my body would no longer naturally heal. An annoyance.
The stranger scowled, and mumbled under his breath. He spoke a language I could not understand. My native language had fallen from prominence, it seemed. No matter, I had not spoken my own language since my death. Instead, I used some Words of Power I had learned long ago. The words were laced with a magical force, and knocked my attacker him from his feet. I took the opportunity to get a solid hit in, my sword digging deep into his armor. As blood sprung from the wound, I wasted no time hitting him again. He stood and backed away, but I closed the distance and once again landed a heavy blow. This time, though, he managed to trade with me, landing another hard hit with his hammer.
We both took a few steps back, reeling from the hits. He swung his bag around, digging through it with vigor. I longed for the day when a mixture of herbs would help knit together my wounds. He dug past weapons, armor, books, bowls, baskets, solid gold bars... if I hadn't been so shocked by the sheer number of items within his bag, I might have tried to finish him off while he was distracted. His face lit up as he found what he was looking for.
He started to pull all sorts of food from the depths of the bag. He turned an apple into a core with impressive speed, then popped the core into his mouth as he took a swig of some expensive aged wine. He pulled out a few pastries, eating them in a bite or two each, dual-wielding baked goods like he couldn't decide which to eat first. I took the chance to reel back for another swing... but then he pulled out an entire cheese wheel. I paused. I thought if I lopped off his head right now, I'd miss what was sure to be a feat for the ages. And I was right. As I watched, he did the impossible.
Like a drunk dairy farmer trying to win a bet, he jammed cheese into his mouth faster than any man I had ever met - and I had feasted with Vikings.
As he finished the cheese wheel, I noticed the bleeding of his wounds begin to slow. My confusion was only interrupted by abject horror as he pulled out an entire rotisserie chicken. It wasn't exactly well-preserved, but he ate it with the same raucous gobbling he had demonstrated with all of the other food he had pulled from the depths of the bag. I was almost certain he ate the bones, too, but I didn't have time to process that as he pulled out another entire wheel of cheese, and began to eat that too. Whatever bizarre intimidation technique he was displaying had worked already. I'd given up after the first cheese wheel. I wished I spoke his language, I'd plead with him to stop this madness.
As he finished off three bottles of cheap mead, he once again readied himself for battle. His wounds had completely healed. He smiled, and belched. I dropped my sword and threw my hands up in surrender. He wasted no time lodging the warhammer's sharp end in my head. As my consciousness faded, my opponent coughed up a chicken bone. He considered it for second, then used it to pick his teeth as he dug through my belongings. With that, I closed my eyes. My life was complete, because I had truly seen it all. | Vindicator stood watching in awe as Cpt Justice flew down.
This was Vindicator’s first week as a villain. And just his luck to run into the greatest superhero in their town.
The immaculate costume, bright eyes, the square jaw, the cape flying in the wind as Cpt. Justice landed was a sight to behold.
Vindicator thought about running. But his legs failed him. All he could do was stand there as Justice came towards him.
Finally, he also noticed that the hero carried a large paper bag with him.
Vindicator struggled to breathe as he had a panic attack. What was in the bag? Some sort of a weapon? But the Cpt. didn’t need weapons. He was the greatest even without one. His legs finally gave out and Vindicator found himself slumped to the ground.
At least there was no one around to see his humiliation. Vindicator had that going for him at least.
With jaw dropping speed, Cpt. Justice picked up a table and chair and set them in front of Vindicator.
“Come sit.”
Vindicator tried. But his legs were still jelly.
Cpt. Justice helped him up and into a chair. He then sat in another chair opposite him and put the brown bag on the table.
“So tell me. Who are you?”
“I… I…”
Cpt. Justice took out a whole roast chicken and two cheese wheels out the bag and onto paper plates. “I hope you don’t mind. I have a rather high metabolic rate. I need to eat more than a regular human. So, your name?”
“Vindicator.”
“Indicator? Of what?”
“Vindicator, sir. With a V.”
“Ah! Do you know what that word means? Don’t you think that’s more of a superhero name?”
“I suppose, sir. I wanted to be a superhero. But I was falsely accused and thrown in jail and then the hero council rejected me and…”
“Save me the sob story please. I just wanted you to know it’s a stupid name.”
Vindicator was taken aback by his words. Cpt. Justice was supposed to be the best of them all. The man Vindicator had grown up idolizing. “It’s not a sob story! I’m not crying.”
“Well you will be. As soon as I finish my food.” Cpt. Justice was already through half his roast chicken and had already finished the cheese wheels.
“Come on man. Wouldn’t kill you to be nice to people.”
“I am nice to people. I just don’t consider you one. No! You people are like roaches. You have a minor grievance and you guys decide becoming a super villain is the solution. And then I have to clean up the mess. I mean look at you. You’re barely walking straight. Do you have a superpower?”
“No. But I’m a trained martial artist and I have this special gun.”
“And I have super strength and super speed and can fly. Let’s face it. You’re fucked.”
Whatever vindicator had expected, it wasn’t this. Cpt. Justice was supposed to be the good guy.
The superhero continued. “See life is made up of opportunities. Every opportunity gives you choices. You just made the wrong ones, fuck face. I’m going to horribly mutilate you. So that you don’t come back again you see. I created this rule for me back when I was starting out that I wouldn’t kill people. Stupid rule. One I wish i hadn’t set up. But now I’m stuck with it. And it leads to roaches like you coming back again and again and I’m sick of it. You 2 bit villains think you can come to my town and you…”
Vindicator had tears in his eyes and was looking down so he didn’t notice it at first.
Cpt Justice banged on the table. Vindicator looked at the hero sitting opposite him. He was going a bit red in face and clawing at his throat.
Vindicator looked at the plate where the roast chicken still lay, unfinished.
Cpt. Justice tried to grab Vindicator croaking out something that sounded like help.
Instead, Vindicator pushed him to the ground. “Opportunities and choices as you said Captain.”
Cpt. Justice tried to read for the radio on his utility belt.
“Uh uh uh. Just the two of us now.” Vindicator took the radio and smashed it with his foot. The hero’s face was blue now. He tried to stick his fingers into his throat but the Vindicator kicked them away.
“Opportunities and choices. How right you were, captain. Looks like I won’t be a 2 bit villain anymore.”
The Vindicator brought up his gun and fired. | 2021-08-19T06:19:20 | 2021-08-19T04:13:29 | 700 | 66 |
[WP] Two people in a bar are having a conversation. The topic of their "body counts" comes up. One's an assassin, the other is an escort. Each thinks the other has the same profession as them, and is horrified by what they are told. | "Seriously? Bloody hell," the tall man in a sharp suit noted. He'd heard quite a few numbers but... 128 was quite a bit.
"Hey, I like my job," the short woman in a red dress giggled. She may not have looked it but hey - it's proper fun. "So how about you?"
"64. Not quite the resume, but I do consider myself experienced."
"Hey, it's not just about numbers. Lotta other factors - technique, time spent on each client..." she said and put her hand on his shoulder. The man was quite handsome by her standards and she quite fancied having him as a colleague, perhaps even working together at one point.
"Mind you, it does help that I do groups as well," she said.
"Really? I always thought something like that could get, well... awkward."
"Perhaps at first. Worst part is the mess, let me tell you. Some stuff gets everywhere," she laughed and took another sip of her drink.
"What's the most you've taken care of at once then?" the man inquired.
¨"Hmm..." the woman narrowed her eyes, trying to remember. "3, I think. A guy and two of his friends. Interesting night."
The man nodded silently and stared into his drink. He was sure there'd be more he'd learn that night.
"I remember my first one," he noted half-heartedly. "I was so nervous, you'd not believe," he chuckled.
"We all start somewhere. Another drink?" she offered.
"Sure," he said and gave her a warm smile. "Don't mind if I do."
An escort. An assassin. An amicable misunderstanding.
Just another lovely evening. | Cristina almost spat her beer.
—A hundred? —they were both 23, they had already discussed that— How long have you been in it?
She became an assasin when she was 20, and had killed 52 people.
—Three years. When my parents found out I liked women they cut me off, so I needed the money to pay for college.
Addison was very proud of her job, being an escort is not easy.
—And do you still talk to them?
—Nah. They can go to hell, if they are right I´'ll meet them there.
—Well, according to religion our job is pretty sinful —Cristina joked. But she was calculating her next move.
—I literally don't give a fuck —she answered starting to play with her red hair.
Cristina smiled, she liked her. If Addison was also an assasin she would be way harder to kill. Unless, she could get her to go with her to a room.
​
//English is my secong language, and I feel like I used the words "she" and "her" way too much, I'm sorry | 2022-04-26T02:04:52 | 2022-04-26T00:20:42 | 560 | 67 |
[WP] You just got fired, you're pretty sure your girlfriend is cheating on you, you're 75k in student loans debt, rent was due last week, and to top it all off? You're all out of beer. Oddly enough, you just got an email titled "Would you like to change the difficulty? Current setting: Very Hard."
EDIT: muh front page reddit wew lad.
This blew up a lot more than I thought it would.
I'm having a great time reading the responses I even decided to add one myself in the comments. | I laughed at first. Then I replied " Yes, Very easy" to the email just to amuse myself in my despair. Not a minute later, the doorbell rang.
*Maybe this was it * I thought * some god damn luck at the end of a miserable day. I could perhaps talk to someone...*
I opened the door but there was no one there. I looked around but there was no one there. I looked down to find a box. I had not ordered anything in a long time. I took the mysterious box inside and gleefully ripped the box apart.
The box had only one item inside of it. A revolver. There was a bullet in the chamber. I knew what it was for...
(i tried)
EDIT:- Thank you for your kind responses. This was my first post on Writing prompts. I did not expect people to actually like this.
EDIT 2 :- Gold!? Wow thank you kind stranger
| "Yes. Yes, I want to change my difficulty setting."
"Very Easy, please?" Or something simpler, if it exists.
Trembling, I sent my plea, my request.
In moments, my inbox had a reply.
"1 of 4 players have voted to change the difficult setting to Very Easy."
Then, my computer chimed again. 3 new emails, each with the subject line "Player message received." | 2016-03-30T16:03:35 | 2016-03-30T15:15:03 | 1,674 | 18 |
[WP] Whenever your crew lands you are seen as gods with wonderous machines before drifting off some where else. But today you are met with a species on a green-blue planet who, while interested in your tech, are not bowing down and worshiping. They call themselves humans. | We have all been very civil. We have given them answers. Where we are from, who we are and what we want.
They seemed like peaceful species at first. Humans, they called themselves. Aliens, they called us.
Not Gods. Never Gods.
We sent our operatives to different locations on their green blue planet. They came back and told us the names of a hundred different deities. It seems this species have created Gods on their own. Some even worshiped the stars and moons.
Some were rather defiantly, atheists. We thought our arrival would change them. But it didn't.
They acknowledged that we were superior, but they always wanted more from us.
They had nothing to give us, except their gratitude. We were happy with that trade off. After all, there was a reason why we were worshiped everywhere.
We assumed they would soon realize that we are the Gods they should worship. But that didn't happen. Despite our best intentions, they never came around to acknowledging our superiority.
​
There were some problems that we couldn't fix. It seems these humans wanted both freedom and equality. How was that possible?
​
Freedom and equality were polar opposites. Give people enough freedom, and equality ceases to exist. Give them equality, and you'd have to take away their freedom.
Only the people who were disadvantaged wanted equality. The moment they got better, they wanted freedom. It was a mess.
Humanity is a mistake, and we soon realized that our constant intervention weren't being viewed lightly. We were being criticized and judged by world leaders.
We- The Gods of the Universe- The helpers of civilizations- they were judging us?
Our council found it unacceptable, and that is why we are leaving.
We are leaving, and we are doing them one last favor.
We are giving them freedom, and equality, both.
Freedom from the eternal struggle of calling themselves humans.
Freedom from the eternal torture of being born as a human.
Equality, in the only thing they all have in common - Death.
Tomorrow's the day we leave. Tomorrow, they will all die.
\----------------------------
r/abhisek | Not going to lie. I was waiting for the applause and awe. The look of unadulterated admiration and worship from the natives. No one admits it, it would be shameful to, but we all get off on it. Even me. Especially me.
These natives here, in their bad coloured clothing, showing not enough skin, barely flinched. The looks we got were eyes rolling. We were called “Chris” or “Angels” by the few who bothered to look at us directly. ‘Laughed at” was the term my internal translator provided.
Evo, the superior being, set the light display in motion. The lights that entered all natives who looked upon it, showing them the secrets of the universe, and our purpose for being here.
Showed them the reasons and ways they were at the edge. What they needed to do to stop the self-destruction. And how we, as matrons of the universe, were here to help.
No one watched.
Well, that isn’t entirely true. One man with exposed arms and belly watched at first. Then put his eye shades down and removed his pants towards the superior being.
The taste of confusion filled my ears.
Was our intel wrong? Had the intelligence on V67 been overcalculated? None of this made sense.
Myself and all the other helpers stepped back in unison, retreating towards the home craft.
Evo, in an act I have never seen before, made a verbal plea with her hair. The natives were silent for one of their heartbeats, then all yelled and finished the closest drink to them.
Evo went a colour I have never seen. She held for a considered second and blinked. The natives disappeared. Forever.
Evo summoned the second-tier natives.
They received the light show well.
Planet V67 would be saved. | 2020-03-02T05:44:19 | 2020-03-02T04:45:28 | 252 | 47 |
[WP] As a mage, your talent with magic has made you well experienced with odd and unusual situations, such as demonic invasions, plagues, evil cults, and dragon attacks, however you must admit that this "Spaceship" situation has left you stumped. | All it took was a tiny drop of mana to convince the thick undergrowth before her to part. A flash of turquoise, a muttered spell, and the shrubs shivered, opening a gap, allowing her to trudge on through.
This wasn't how her life was supposed to go. One of the brightest young mages in the Prestworth Academy, she was supposed to be a shooting star. She was supposed to graduate with honors, gaining an apprenticeship with an archmage, perhaps even an appointment as a court advisor. But that didn't happen, did it? No, that stinking, cheating, scoundrel-
A splash interrupted her thoughts as she stumbles onto a small river. She swore as the water soaked through her boots. Arranging her fingers into a splayed oval and with a whisper, a ripple passes over the water. Alethia strolled over the surface of the river like it was rock, closer to her destination.
Alethia had trained to repulse demonic incursions from The Scorched Realms. She had trained against attacks from rampaging dragons, drakes, wyrms and wyverns. She had trained to heal and protect from deadly plagues. But here, in Fentmouth, a small farming village in the middle of nowhere, the meteor that had fallen into the forest, was the most exciting thing that had happened to the village since Farmer Hodgeson's cow gave birth to twins. They had thrown a whole festival for that!
And now her mentor had sent her on this fools errand. Sabatha had tried to scry the meteor, to see if it held any traces of star metal, or like the majority of debris from above, was just another hunk of rock. The scrying had failed, as those things sometimes do, and who better to send on a trip to the forest then her apprentice?
Distant sounds of metal clanging filtered through the trees and... was that a voice? It could be possible some enterprising group had gotten to the meteor first. As the sounds grew louder, she erected a barrier around herself, a turquoise shield of mana that would protect her from harm. She crept to the edge of the clearing, trying to catch a glimpse and... was that an egg?
In the exact center of the clearing, in the middle of a crater, was some object, truly looking like an egg made of a gleaming white metal, covered in several scorch marks. Alethia had studied all manner of magical monstrosities and beings but never had she heard anything like this! Her excitement began to mount as she started creeping up to it. With this discovery, surely she would be welcomed back to civilized society with open arms!
As she neared the egg, she realized the voice she had heard earlier was coming from inside the egg, muffled but angry. Was there a being inside the egg? Perhaps it was angry because its vehicle was stuck? She would need to freeze the creature, maybe even-
"Proximity sensors active. Humanoid interloper detected. Deploy Countermeasures?" It was a smooth genderless voice, loud, booming from the egg. An aperture opens with a smooth whoosh, revealing an entrance. Alethia gave a yelp, stumbling backwards. She grabbed her staff from her back, calming down as she felt the currents of mana running through it. She quickly erected a barrier around herself, a shield of pure mana and waited as a... man came out of the egg? He was clad in a smooth chitinous metal carapace, some kind of armor perhaps, similar to the egg itself, but his face was human. Maybe some kind of demonic illusion, to get her guard down?
"Halt right there and identify yourself!" Alethia shouted. The man pointed somekind of metal wand he held at Alethia, but upon seeing her, his face showed relief.
"It's just some chick. God, you gave me a heart attack." He turned back, moving back into the egg with a dismissive wave. "Bug off, lady. I have work to do."
Now Alethia was angry.
"By order of the Wizarding Guild, I order you to stand away from the egg and explain yourself, or you will be annihilated!"
The man turned back, staring at her. "Wizarding guild? Is this some kind of joke? What are you gonna do, tell me to pick a card?" He turns back to head inside the egg.
Well, she tried diplomacy. Now for magic.
Gathering her mana, she uttered a few words and crafted it into a lasso of sorts, which she flung outward mentally.
The man had time to only enter a muttered oath as a ribbon of turquoise energy wrapped around him, yanking him backwards. The ribbons dragged him all the way to Alethia's feet as she aimed her staff at his chest.
"I suggest you don't resist. Now what are you?"
The man gave a dry smile as he looked at her.
"An explorer. A soldier. A hunter. Now go ahead and deploy those countermeasures."
A whirring sound started behind Alethia and she spun around, just in time to see a blue nimbus flare into life around the egg. The blue nimbus flashed outwards, overloading her barrier and everything faded to black. | Anaximander was right.
The world was a sphere, as the philosopher claimed - not a flat disc surrounded by sky and sea, as the priests of Aram-Nahrin said.
I could see the curvature of the world below me, as I ascended.
Or was the world above me, and I the one falling into the abyss?
Direction had no meaning, not any longer. At least not the meaning that I was accustomed to.
I could feel the ether eating away at my shields. Many believed that the luminiferous ether could not have much, if any, interaction with ordinary matter.
It seemed that theory was wrong, for the environment around me was actively hostile to life.
Perhaps, given time, it would be possible to tailor my spells to better resist the effects. But time was a luxury I did not have.
I decided that the world was beneath me, and the outsider vessel was above. I needed some way to orient myself, and the decision was as good as any.
Scale and distance was difficult to estimate in this strange otherworldly place. But my divinations had given me a sense of how large the outsider ship truly was.
I called it a ship, because all the divinations indicated that it was some form of craft designed to carry its makers through the luminiferous ether, between worlds. Comparing it to an oceangoing or skyfaring vessel was logical.
Yet the… ether ship was massive, more akin to a citadel turned on its side, some form of immense mobile tower.
I could see fire engulfing one end of the deceptively slender-looking ship. It was no ordinary flame. It was Empyrean fire, something that was previously thought to be the sole dominion of the gods.
The ship was turning towards me. The outsiders knew I was here.
That was unfortunate, but I had accounted for the possibility. I'd counted on it, even.
The outsiders had shown a preternatural ability to pierce through even our finest veils and glamours. And for all my strengths, illusions were not among them.
Rays of light erupted from the ship, lancing through the ether towards me.
While many of the scholarly theories regarding the nature of ether were apparently wrong, it seemed that the ancients were correct in predicting that it was a perfectly luminiferous medium, allowing light to travel through it without obstruction.
The outsiders had difficulty raining down their strange light magic upon our armies and cities… or rather, they had difficulty targeting us with any accuracy, instead spreading destruction in an indiscriminate fashion.
It seemed that something about the very air of the world affected their weapons.
However, beyond the reach of the world, beyond the sky itself, there was no air to get in the way. As I'd surmised, the lethality of the ship's magic was even more potent in its own environment.
Unfortunately for me, I was fighting the outsiders in their space, in a battlefield where they held all the advantages. The outsiders had their ship and their command of the ether, while I was only one mage.
I flung myself to the side before one of the great beams incinerated me. The attacks moved with nearly instantaneous speed. But the divination spells I was maintaining gave me enough warning. Enough warning to be somewhere else.
I wasn't the first to try assaulting the outsider ship directly, rather than fighting their golems on the ground. I wasn't even the second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, or seventh. But all the other flight-capable mages that had tried… they hadn't returned.
As far as I could determine, they'd perished within seconds of leaving the sky.
I readied my best battle spells, moving my lips soundlessly. There was only so much breathable air within my shields, and I could not afford to waste any breath. Conjuring or transmuting more fresh air would take precious moments.
Time, as always, was not on my side.
My fingers moved, flowing through a complex pattern, as I flung a bolt of Empyrean fire towards the ship. I'd learnt a thing or two from scrying the outsiders.
Their abilities were vast and terrifying. But once something was done, once a thing could be observed, it was no longer a secret. The outsiders had proven it was possible for mortals to wield Empyrean forces.
Now I could, as well.
It was difficult to form the Empyrean matter, even harder to shape and contain it within a shell of lightning. But it was *possible.*
Some believed the outsiders were indeed gods, if cruel and capricious ones. Unstoppable. Inevitable.
I knew better.
After all, they could be killed.
\*\*\*
r/Acylion | 2021-01-25T09:43:57 | 2021-01-25T08:25:47 | 20 | 14 |
[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?" | It was just after I had finished the first cup of my morning pot of coffee for the day when my intercom chimed my personal assistant's unique three tone chime.
This caused me to raise an eyebrow as I went to answer, as it was twelve past seven in the morning and Rusti would have just gotten into her office.
"What is it?" I asked when I answered, figuring that whatever she was calling about must be important if she's calling me before I've had my morning pot of coffee.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but one of the henchmen on door duty just let me know that Sparc was there." Rusti explained.
The mention of my cybernetic arch-nemisis made me scowl. "Why hasn't the alarm been raised?!" I demanded. "If she's trying to break in-!"
"She's not, sir "
Rusti's response and the confusion in her tone made me pause. "Come again?" I asked.
"She's not trying to break in." elaboted Rusti. "According to the henchman, she merely knocked on the doors and asked if she could see you."
It took me a moment to process what she was saying. Sparc *never* knocked. She just smashed her way in and wreaked havoc.
Which meant that whatever it was that she wanted to talk about, it was pretty important.
"Let her in." I said. "Take her to the conference room, and have breakfast for two sent up along with coffee."
"Sir?" asked Rusti, now even more confused.
"Whatever it is, it's important." I explained. "And it's not a trap. Sparc doesn't do that. That's something that Shade would do."
"Yes, sir."was Rusti's response before I broke the connection.
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose.
"It's too gorramed early for this shit..."
TBC ... | His hands clasped and sweaty, his eyes large and pleading, he managed to choke out the words.
"Will you be my wedding date?"
Only a keen observer might have noticed her lips part in surprise before curving smoothly into her easy, devilish smile.
"Sure."
=============
Truth be told, Arabella Nave was dizzy with rapture, enough to make her unsteady when she stood up from her desk. Had Cassel Barnes, The Cassel Barnes, really just asked her to be his wedding date? Because his ex will be there?? She giggled with glee.
"Oh Cassel, Cassel," she murmured as she took out a picture of his face from her desk drawer. It was a newspaper clipping that she had framed of him smiling at the camera with his All American blonde hair tousled by a breeze and his light blue eyes shining at the camera. Under his beautiful freckled face was the headline "Superhero Cassel Can't Be Beat". Of course, she had burned little cigarette holes into his eyes and had scratched out the apostrophe t in "Can't" so that it now read "Superhero Cassel Can Be Beat." She stroked the words with her fingers. Who was this ex of his that frightened him so much? Frightened him More than Arabella Nave? Or had his stupid brain somehow forgotten that she was his nemesis? Well, she would have to remind him, wouldn't she? Lovers come and go, but a nemesis is forever. | 2022-10-06T19:51:19 | 2022-10-06T19:49:26 | 187 | 106 |
[WP] It turns out your apartment was so cheap to rent because one of the cupboards is actually a portal to the Underworld. It’s not dangerous, but the number of adventurers knocking at your door in the middle of the night looking to go through is starting to get annoying. | "Look," I said to the cavernous, undulating pit in the cupboard under my sink, "I'm not asking you to leave entirely. I'm just saying it would really help if you could... relocate a bit." The creature inside - the one that *was* the Pit and that liked it when I put raw meat in the garbage disposal - poked a tentacle made of pure darkness through the door inquisitively. "I mean, you could go to the maintenance closet in the hallway. Lots of space, one dingy, flickering bulb..."
The depths of the Pit made a creaking moan.
"No, of course we're friends!" I said. "I can still visit, you know. It's just really annoying when all those heroes and adventurers keep coming to fight your demons and stuff."
The Pit made an annoyed grumble of its own.
"Yeah, no kidding. Plus they either come at twilight - and they *always* want a meal before going to the Underworld - or at, like, two in the morning. You'd think they'd realize that you're not exactly going anywhere, but," I shrugged, "I guess they think it's more dramatic that way. A better story."
The Pit reached out further, pushing aside space-time in semi-visible rifts.
"No, you can't just eat them." It pushed further. "No, you can't eat my apartment. *Or* me. I've told you, that's a bit fatal to humans, and I'd prefer to have a life. Besides, they're not bad people. Just... annoying."
A loud, clanging bell of Doom. Not deadly doom, just the inevitable promise that one day the world would be engulfed in its darkness once more and not even my soul would survive it.
"Look, you're a decent roommate. You don't leave dishes in the sink, and you eating all the rodents and bugs is honestly pretty cool. But we'd both be happier if you went somewhere where you can get all the adventurers you need to maintain the demonic ecosystem and I could get some sleep."
The creature retreated back into its cupboard, grumbling all the while. Then it retreated further, and for the first time I could actually see the pipes and shit. I ran out into the hallway and grinned. The cracks around the door of the maintenance closet were rimmed with a pulsing darkness.
"Thanks," I said. I quickly went back into my apartment, made two signs that said "Underworld Portal Here" and "Underworld Portal has Moved, Look in the Maintenance Closet" on some spare bits of paper, and dug around the junk drawer for the tape. I went back into the hallway and put the signs up.
Behind the door, I could hear the Pit roiling about, getting itself accommodated.
"Yeah, it is a bit roomier than you're used to," I agreed. "My rent might go up a bit, but we'll both be happier now."
The Pit seeped a bit around the edges of the door.
"No, you can't eat the landlord."
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
Read more of my writing on r/coolwrites. | I started awake and lifted my head. I sat up staring into the darkness momentarily confused. The sound of a fist crashing on my door confirmed what had woken me up.
“At this hour….” I muttered to myself and rose out of bed.
The pounding continued as I shuffled down the hallway. I pulled the door open, “What?!”
A large man in sparse leather armor stood on the other side of the entryway, his eyes wide, staring at me like I had grown three heads. After a moment he stuttered, “Is… is this the, uh, the, way to the, uh, underworld?”
“Yeah, what do want?” I barked at him.
The man finally gathered himself, struck a pose and began, “I, Bronan the brave, am on a noble quest to save my love. She was taken by a foul dark beast and locked away in the underworld.”
“Get to the point!”
“Oh. I, uh, was hoping to pass through…” he concluded softly deflating a little.
“Didn’t you read the sign?!” I snarled.
Bronan leaned back and turned his head to look at the sign, “I thought it was a joke?”
“Do you even know what it means?”
“Uh… is it a type of foul food?”
“It means in here there is no hope.”
Bronan blinked, unsure how to proceed. After a moment he resumed his pose and with a commanding voice said, “Stand aside foul beast! I must pass.”
“Is ‘foul’ the only adjective you know?”
Bronan doubled down, “Stand aside lest I slay you!”
I bristled at the threat and finally fully woke up. Filling my voice with malice I growled at him, “What did you say?!”
Bronan immediately cowered away from me and squealed, “N…n…nice…do-”
“Don’t you dare say it!” I snapped.
Bronan held out a slip of paper to me. “I have a receipt from the ferry.”
I calmed down a little and took a deep breath. “You could have lead with that. Come on.” I turned and headed down the hall, keeping an eye on Bronan as he followed. In the kitchen, I opened the cupboard under the sink. “In you go.”
Bronan stared, “In there?”
“Just get in there.”
I closed the cupboard after Bronan and sighed. I opened the fridge and poured myself a bowl of water. After lapping it up, I headed back for my bed, circled a few times, then laid down.
I knew the deal was too good to be true. I shouldn’t have let Hades turn me into his guard dog. | 2022-01-01T22:41:03 | 2022-01-01T18:27:37 | 51 | 32 |
[WP] When a child comes of age their greatest quality manifests itself as a familiar that will follow them for life. You just turned 21 and you still didn't have one, until this morning when two showed up and they terrify you. | Most of us get our familiars at the ripe old age of eighteen. Sometimes it was as young a sixteen, sometimes as old as twenty. I was twenty-one, and it embarrassed me being alone the way I was while my friends settled in with their homemade soul mates.
The morning after my first drink, I woke up in my bedroom not with a hangover, but with the horrible feeling of me wishing I could wait the rest of my life for my familiar to arrive.
The first one was smiling, energetic, and had a sheen so bright and dense it was suffocating. It would offer me goodness only to keep it from me when it was presented. Speaking fast, distracted, offered to make me breakfast and then left the oven on with nothing inside. What the hell was the oven for? There was too much puppy-like positivity and distraction for me to deal with.
The second one was sometimes nasty, sometimes boring, sometimes something else, but it was always negative. Irritating and tiring. It was persuasive, too. Whenever the first familiar made a mistake or ignored something that could cause an accident, the second one would try to convince me it was okay. "Go to bed, I'll take care of it," it would tell me in a demanding, soothing voice inside my head, but I knew that it wasn't okay and that it would just be hiding under the bed poking at my mattress.
The contrast between the two made me feel flat. Not like a stretched-thin, but like I was colorless and in a perpetual daze. It took a few months, but I would eventually learn that I could control my familiars like my friends did with theirs. Familiars were connected with psychology, and I finally mustered the courage to ask my doctor to meet my familiars and prescribe me with the proper medication. The familars didn't disappear, but I could deal with them a bit more easily. The first one didn't blind me with forced smiles and jittery hugs. The second one didn't hold me down by the ankles and mope so much. Instead of being a drag, they were now just useless.
I later realized that even though not everyone's familiar is defined by their mental illness, many of those disorders go undiagnosed. My familiars were diagnosed (and somewhat treatable), and although they weren't exactly ideal, they reminded me to refill my pills, drink more water, and take care of myself. Maybe they weren't too useless after all. | "Hi Tommy" I'm your familiar said the beautiful angel.
Those were the first words I heard when I woke up and I was ecstatic with joy at finally manifesting my familiar and I felt so much warmth and comfort just being near her.
I hugged her and she hugged me back while ruffling my hair. I was so happy that I couldn't wait to show her off to my aunt and uncle. I started to yell "Aunt!, Unc..." but the angel told me to shush. "I'm going to take you to a better place Tommy and it'll just be our little secret" she said with her radiant smile. I nodded my head and agreed to leave with her secretly.
When we had just gotten to the front door a hand reached out from the shadows and grabbed me. It pulled me back and covered my mouth as I was about to scream.
"I don't know how you escaped but your ignorance will get all of us killed" the shadowy figure behind me roared at the angel. Black claws shot out from the shadowy figure and restrained the angel who didn't even try to struggle. I wanted to cry out for the angel to run away but she just kept smiling. Her last words were "I'll come back to take you to a better place next time Tommy" before the shadows ripped her apart and devoured the parts scattered on the ground and across the walls.
I was left to cry in the corner. I screamed at the shadow "why would you do that to my familiar" and it replied "don't worry Tommy I am also your familiar and as long as you live neither her nor I can truly die. I am here to protect you from your own naivety because my master is both you and not you and if you leave this place with her then you will die because you still don't understand anything". "You can't believe everything Tommy because that will get you killed but believe me when I say this. I am doing all of this to protect you and the you who is not you because Heaven isn't a place you can get to using normal means". | 2017-01-20T14:26:22 | 2017-01-20T12:43:33 | 22 | 14 |
[WP] The zombie outbreak is largely contained. Now your job is to stop edgy "zombie hunters" from breaking into the quarantined area. | "Goddamnit, not again..."
Dan flicked a switch on the table near him, lighting up his spotlight. Within the illuminated street, ducking next to the husk of an old truck was two young boys. The boys froze, not sure what to do or where to go. One of them reached down and gripped the hilt of a sword that was strapped to their hip, trying to find some form of control.
"Hands in the air! Don't be stupid!" A voice boomed from the street level of the watchtower Dan sat in. The voice belonged to one of the other men that was posted at the fence. Steven was a large and imposing figure, perfect for chilling the blood of anyone that tried to sneak into the containment zone for whatever reason. He excelled at his job, especially since most of the people he had to interact with were kids trying to get into a trouble that they couldn't understand.
The boys remained frozen, sweating, unable to react to the very simple command. They were finally shaken to action after the voice commanded them once more, "Do what I say! Hands! Up!" A red dot appeared on the ground in front of them, a warning that the voice meant business. They raised their hands and stood as straight up as they possibly could.
Dan sighed, "Damn kids again." He grabbed his rifle and aimed it down the street as protocol dictated. Seeing as he was protecting the deadliest bio-hazard mankind had ever faced, even if it was just some stupid kids looking to see something they couldn't understand, they couldn't take any chances. Dan saw Steven approach the two youths and a grin appearing on his face. As serious as their job was, as careful as they had to be, Dan figured these kids were about to get a good scolding and Steven was not only good at scolding, he made it enjoyable to watch.
Steven stepped into the light and closer to the kids. By his estimation, they were about 17 and dressed all in black, one sporting tactical gear that was easily acquired from any flea market and the other wore a Japanese headband to keep his long hair out of his face. Steven slung his rifle, walked up to the two and reached for the bolt cutters and pistol strapped to the tactical gear of the one and relieved the other of his katana. He sighed as he took a step back, placing the weapons at his feet, "What the hell are you doing here? You know where you are right?"
The boys didn't speak. Steven tried again, "I said, what are you doing here?"
Still nothing.
Steven took a deep breath, "I need you to tell me what you are doing here. If you don't, I can take you somewhere where I can ask you again in a more formal way."
The tactical boy spoke, "We..."
Steven leaned in, "You...?"
Dan snickered, listening in over Steven's radio.
"We were coming to see the quarantine."
Steven gestured at the weapons at his feet, "And what were you planing on doing with these?"
The boys shifted uncomfortably.
"See, you can't even tell me. And you think you were going to do what, wipe them all out yourselves?" Steven kicked at the katana, "And what about this? The headband? Don't you think that's a little much there, Blademaster? How old are you two?"
The pair sheepishly spoke, "17".
Steven sighed, "Damn. Listen, do you know what happens if you get through this fence." The two shook their heads. "You get to another fence, staffed with people who are not nearly as nice as I am. They will take you away without a second thought. You know what is beyond *that* fence?"
The boys lowered their gaze. This angered Steven, "Look at me! Do you know what is over there?!" They boys red eyes met his steely gaze. "People. People are over there. Mothers, sons, grandparents, uncles, whatever. They were people who were caught in a hell on Earth. People like you just see them as these mindless husks but you know what, they were someone once. They still are someone to others out in the world. What if it was your family? Huh? What if your family was over there and some stupid kid thought it would be a good idea to show them the massive disrespect you were looking to show tonight?" The boys shrunk a little at being called stupid. Steven cocked his head as he stepped forward, his voice growing louder, "What, you don't agree that what you were trying to do is incredibly stupid? What would happen if you got in there? First: you would get ripped apart. Plain and simple. You two would die and you would leave your families to mourn for your stupid asses. Next: you compromise the perimeter, putting everyone in danger because you wanted to play hero!"
Dan spoke into his radio tuned to Steven's earpiece, "Hey, wrap this up."
Steven took a step back, "Put your arms down." The boys arms dropped to their sides. "Go back home and never come back. If I so much as hear that you have been near these fences again, I will personally make sure that you are taken to a very dark, very lonesome place for a long time. Now go!" With that, the boys darted off into the night from whence they came.
Dan lowered his rifle and rested it against his table once again, switching off the floodlight. Steven grabbed the gear he confiscated and made his way back to his post. He added the items to his growing collection, now up to three cheap katanas from three masters of the blade. "Damn kids." Steven sat and waited out the rest of his shift. | I remembered my days as a game warden when I first started out in the park, protecting wildlife from unauthorized hunters. Then the great outbreak came and I barely made it out.
Now, I'm just a quarantine guard for the CDC. And it changed from unauthorized hunters to dumb teens and college kids trying to break in to the deadzone. I already seen dozens of them die or get infected forcing me to kill them. The only thing that has changed is that I'm now protecting the hunters from what was in the quarantine. Apparently the electrified fence isn't enough and I avoid BBQ because it reminds me of dead trespassers and zombies.
Just as I was about to end my shift for the night, a black SUV full of college aged kids showed up.
I went up to the drivers window from my post and tapped the window.
"You got any authorization, kid?"
"Nah, man. We're just here to relieve the thrill of the outbreak," said the driver with sunglasses and a red flannel shirt.
"Of course," I uttered to myself as I wondered why anyone would wear sunglasses at night.
"Since you kids aren't authorized to go in, I have to tell you that you must leave."
"Killing those walkers is thrilling, and you won't get in our way old man!" cried a female voice at the back.
"Kids, I have seen a dozen idiots who broke in the past and were killed or worst, infected and I was forced to shoot them. These zombies aren't ordinary and if you survive, I could have you all arrested," I said to them impatiently. "And I am authorized to shoot people who try to break in so don't try anything. We don't live in the outbreak anymore and I don't long for those days."
Then I heard a click.
"You know, I was planning to use this. But I never thought I would use it on you, bub," angrily stated the co-driver. He then pulled his Glock pistol.
Shit.
I dashed towards the rock for cover from the pistol, barely avoiding his shots.
"Ram the gate!"
I immediately pulled out my S&W Model 686 and fired back. I then pulled my radio out.
"This is Samuel to central, four teenagers are breaking into the quarantine! One of them has even tried to kill me!"
"Copy Samuel. Backup is in their way," radioed central.
*Thud*
The SUV kept going back and forth. I fired a couple shots at the SUV but was forced to take cover when the jock with the Glock fired back.
Then finally, the gate lock was broken. The power was now cut off
"Hit the pedal!" shouted the female of the group. The tires screeching, the SUV was then away in a flash.
"Fucking idiots," I muttered to myself. Now I had to go in.
Since the road was dirt, I figured out where the SUV went. I had to move quickly, since the zombies in this area aren't ordinary. Running along the tracks quickly, I then found out that the teens crashed into a tree.
"I have seen this in movies a thousand times," I thought to myself.
Fortunately, they were all inside, injured but alive and conscious. Then I heard a high pitched moan.
"Kids, you're still well right?" I asked of them.
"Beat it, old man," groaned the driver.
All the teens then opened their doors and fell out.
"Look, we have to get out of here now. These zombies aren't your run of the mill slow pokes," I pleaded.
I then felt a drool on my face and some growling. I looked up to see the hunchback "Hunter" on a branch. With his flayed face and exposed rotting muscle, I could only stand in shock.
"Kids, you better start running," I ordered.
"Wait why?" asked the girl. She then turned to see the "Hunter". "Uh boys, let's get the FUCK out of here!"
The three young men then saw him slowly making his way down from the tree. As he stood up, the Hunter let out a moan, as if he was to give chase.
The driver and the jock screamed like girls.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!"
"Follow me you idiots!" I shouted as I began running. The College students quickly followed.
"Do not look back and keep running!"
I then heard more high-pitched moans. This was not good.
The hunter was now joined by his fellow hunchback hunters. I could only think making it out alive with the kids so they could be taught a valuable lesson.
The jock then decided to stupidly stop and use his Glock to kill them. He was overwhelmed and became supper for the hunters.
"Patrick!" cried the girl. She was about to go in a futile attempt to rescue him, but backseat kid with the huge glasses tried to stop her. She broke free and joined Patrick.
Nearing the gate I noticed that my backup arrived. "Don't close the gate yet!" I desperately shouted out.
I barely made it out with the remaining kids. Backup closed the gate behind me and restored the power to the gate. A couple hunters got fried to a crisp.
"Sam, I thought you were a meal now for the hunters," said my co-worker Elsa.
"Trust me, I dealt with those things during the outbreak," I assured her. There were plenty of armored vehicles around the gate that were prepared to contain a potential new outbreak.
I then made my way to the students.
"You two are now under arrest for trespassing." | 2019-11-11T07:50:20 | 2019-11-11T07:17:54 | 336 | 37 |
[WP] It turns out, the devil is actually a perfectly harmless wish granter. Of course, THEY don't want you to know that. | “Juliet,” the man before her mused, twirling a classroom pointer in his fingers. She had just finished her Theology final and was very ready to leave, when her professor insisted on stopping her, “quick question.”
She held her books close to her chest, “Yes, sir?”
“You wrote in your latest paper that you’re not convinced about the conventional interpretation of ha-satan in scripture?”
A little confused, but curious, she stopped, “Yes?”
“I wanted to talk to you about that a little more, as I think it’s an interesting thesis. Do you mind if we stop by my office and chat? I’ll get us some coffee.” He stood and smiled at her. His dark eyes were as soft as ever, his smile perfectly crafted.
She shrugged, “Why not?” They left the classroom and walked the short distance to his office. The skylight overhead illuminated the overflowing bookshelves, the neatly stacked piles of paper, all arranged by date and purpose. She sat down in the only chair besides his own, pressed slightly against a row of books about Neo-Paganism. He left her there for a moment, returning with the coffee. He handed her a mug with a cartoon devil on it. His own mug had a little angel, winking.
“Cute mugs.”
“A student gift,” he said, sitting down and turning to his computer. He typed for a moment, clicking at a few things until he had pulled her paper up. His face was lit strangely by the computer’s glow, shadows cast at jarring angles.
“So, what exactly made you want to talk about the paper?” She sipped the coffee, eying him over the top of the mug. He’d been her professor for the last three years, but they had kept a distant relationship. She liked to think it was because he liked her.
“Well, just the conclusion in general. Ha-satan as harmless? A wish-granter? At first glance, it seems absurd.” He turned away from the computer to look at her, her breath catching in her throat. It was a look of both amusement and something else, something darker.
“But upon closer inspection?”
“It holds a lot of water.” His voice was low, his gaze on her, sticking to her like tar. She sipped the coffee again, happy to have something to do with her hands.
“I’m glad to hear you like it.”
“But I do think that, as an interpretation, it does little for the field.”
She lowered the mug, leveling her own gaze at him, “What do you mean? New interpretations are always a good thing, especially if they hold water, as you said.”
He shook his head sadly, “No, no. I mean to say I don’t know how it would affect anything.”
Confused, she paused for a moment, looking towards the books. She blinked rapidly, her brain trying to process. “Well—” she paused again, looking at the ground. She was quite unsure how to argue with a professor. “I think it would affect a lot of things, namely how we read the stories from historical and anthropological perspective. If the devil isn’t evil, and, perhaps, that is a construct we, as interpreters, have placed upon his character, then that’s very important. We have to know our own bias and effect.”
He took a long drink from his own mug, silence falling over them. He sighed and leaned back, his arms behind his head. “Explain your evidence once again.”
“It’s in the paper—”
“Explain it again.” He said, his voice stern.
“Well, from the start, he is granting wishes. Adam and Eve wish to know more, to grow, to become better, so he brings them knowledge, the knowledge of how to grow, how to become ‘free,’ so to speak. He did not tempt Eve, but, rather, gave her what she wanted, what she didn’t know how to ask for.” She swallowed, feeling exposed under his watchful eye as she explained.
She cleared her throat and continued, “Then, in the book of Job, he grants God’s wishes, the wish to test Job. And then, in Matthew, when he ‘tempts’ Jesus, he is extending the wish of humanity onto Christ himself, attempting to give him what all humans wish for: power, control, something to hold onto in an ever shifting world that they can’t understand. He is, on all accounts, a giver. He only takes to satisfy the whims of his creator, God himself. He’s a misunderstood figure, although not in the way that many would like to think. I don’t believe him to be good, but he is not bad either. He is harmless, insofar as temptation stands. When he tempts, it is to give the tempted exactly what they want.”
The office was silent. She brought the mug to her lips again, letting the steam fog up her glasses for a moment, just so she could get some relief. She drank from it. He sighed, leaning forward again, his elbows on the desk. “I don’t think you should pursue this line of thinking any longer.”
“Professor,” she said, startled by her own conviction, “if you have a good reason, I will, but until then, I will continue.”
He ran his finger around the rim of his mug, the winking angel gleaming in the sunlight from overhead. “Ms. Sinclair, if you had spent two thousand years crafting and selling a narrative because it meant people would leave you alone, wouldn’t you be a bit perturbed if that came to an end suddenly?”
Her breath caught in her throat again as he looked at her; the implication of the statement hung in the air above them both. She cleared her throat, “I believe I would be, Dr. Harrison.”
“Then you’ll understand why I’m asking you not to pursue this paper further than my class.”
“I believe I do.”
“Great, then it’s settled, then.”
She put the mug on the desk, standing up and collecting her bag. She made it to the door before she turned around, the awe on her face painfully evident, “Professor?”
“Yes, Miss Sinclair?”
“Does that mean you grant wishes?”
He smiled, letting out a short chuckle, “To those I like, yes; to those who enjoy temptation.”
She turned back to face him, the conviction rising in her throat again, “I think we still have things to discuss then.” She shut the door and sat back down.
\_ \_ \_
r/AinsleyAdams |
I have not led a good life. I understand that value judgements like that are all relative, but in some cases, there is objective reality. I had been trending in the right direction since I’d met him, but I had been pretty overdrawn on my karmic bank account before then.
When he died, I didn’t feel broken like I thought I would. I just felt angry, like something precious had been stolen from me. Which I guess it had been. My old instincts came back up, and I decided there was only one option. Track down whoever took him, and either take him back, or make them pay for it.
Alec had been a kind soul, but not perfect. I felt like on balance there was a good chance he’d been Heaven bound, but I also knew there was no way I was going to be able to get in there easily. The logical play was to go to Hell. Go into Hell, and choke the Devil himself until he gave me back my Alec, or helped me find a way into Heaven.
Looking back on this decision it seems obvious now, knowing what I know, but the reality is I was a lot more damaged than I thought. I wasn’t even religious. I had no real hope of finding my way into Hell, or Heaven. In fact I think I had very little hope at all, and the whole going to Hell thing was just me rationalising killing myself. But I’m going to gloss over that moment in my life, and choose to believe that somehow, I just knew. That I knew what would await me on the other side.
That first demon had not been prepared.
“Welcome to Hell!”, he had cackled as I opened my eyes. The last thing I could remember was how cold the drug had felt as it hit the inside of my vein. The demon was more brown than red. Another Coke rebranding perhaps, altering public perception, like Santa.
“Perfect”, I said, standing and cracking my knuckles.
“Uh, what?”, said the Demon, backing up. “I think I need to speak to my supervis—”
His words died in his throat as my hands closed around his neck. He was low level, it turned out. Low level with no aspirations to advance, and an aversion to personal pain and suffering. A nothing, but a very useful first rung for me. Fortunately, I had experience in working within unsavoury organisations, and like any of these, I expected Hell to be run on spite, and brutality and ruthlessness. With a little cunning and the inside track from my new friend, I expected to find a route. I expected wrong.
It became clear very quickly that Hell was a meritocracy. It was almost wholesome. ‘Staff’, were encouraged to write their own development plans, and design their perfect career progression. Where do you see yourself in 10,000 years?
I used this to my advantage. As it turned out the brutality I was able to bring outweighed the meagre offerings of the Hellspawn and in a few short hours, I was stood in front of the Devil himself. He looked excited.
“Where is my Alec?”, I asked. At the door behind me, the Devils minions milled until he waved them off with a flick of his wrist.
“Who are you?”, asked the Devil.
“I’m asking the questions!”, I shouted.
“Are you sure about that?”, said the Devil.
“Yes.”
“How many questions have I asked? And how many have you asked?”, said the Devil with a himselfish grin.
“Fuck you”, I said and started to walk toward him.
The Devil flickered and reappeared further away from me. Or perhaps I was moved further away from him. Space felt strange in this room as if I was half asleep.
“Now, now”, said the Devil. “Who are you, and why do you think I have this ‘Alec’?”
I stopped walking, feeling faintly foolish. “Alec is the love of my life. He’s all that matters, and I’m here to take him back.”
The Devil laughed. It sounded beautiful, and horrifying, like a tornado destroying a church organ. “Have you seen any people here?”
I had to admit that I had not.
“No. There are no souls in eternal torment. It’s just part of the marketing. Drive up the price, you see.”
I looked blank.
The Devil lit a cheroot with a flick of flame from his finger. “Do you mind if I smoke?”, he asked. “I’ve always enjoyed the habit. Such a shame you humans are vaping now. It’s very joyless.”
“Where is everyone then? Heaven?”
He blew a smoke ring toward me. “No. Only a few go there. Most others just go into long term storage until the apocalypse. It’s much cheaper that way. Saves on brimstone and sulphur, which is going up and up, by the way. Took a wet bite out of my profitability last century, I can tell you.”
I wafted the smoke ring away in frustration. “Price? Profit? What the fuck do you do down here?”
“I’m just a humble granter of wishes, and in return for the licence to bend time and space to my whim, I agree to manage unworthy souls coming from above, and there are a lot of those these days. The whole Devil persona helps drive up the price of the wishes granted. Do you want to be cured of cancer? Soul. Do you want to be the best fiddle player in Ireland? Soul. Lots of people who don’t value their soul, but do value trinkets and praise.”
I thought about this for a moment. “OK then. Then I need to make a wish. I understand the price.”
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
r/TallerestTales | 2021-02-20T12:06:12 | 2021-02-20T11:42:51 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] A serial killer who kills hitchhikers picks up a serial killer who kills the people who pick him up. | A long, narrow gravel road stretches into the distance. Along it, a small yellow beatle sends long plumes of dust into the air as it sweeps down the valley. Two voices fight their way out of the cramped cabin and travel past the grinding machinery, to where the animals sit still in the brush, listening.
*sigh*
The car screeches to a halt.
"Okay, god damn it, get out."
"WHAT? Umm I mean, what?"
"I saw that look in your eyes when you tried to smile at me then. I see the same greedy stare every time I check my mirror..."
"I have literally no idea what you're talking about."
"Yes you do, damnit, and you call that a hidden firearm?"
"Oh, I'm just excited"
"Oh yeah?"
"That's actually true, I don't carry a gun. I instead murder with a hidden knife in my sleeve!"
"Yeah? Well open the glove box there for me will ya?"
The man in the passenger seat cracked open the glove box and the driver quickly snatched a revolver.
"Because I do carry a gun. And kill way more hitchhikers than you. Now get out."
"Oh come on, I kill with style, the man on the side of the road..."
"Catchy. Get out."
"Aren't we gonna team up?"
*sigh*
"No, we aren't gonna team up."
"My mom will sew us outfits."
"Fine. But only if you'll go on a camping holiday with me."
As the distant thrum of the engine sank over the brow of the next hill, the animals sat in the grass, perplexed. Now these weren't some freaky, english talking critters, but hell, it doesn't take a genius to figure something was weird with those two.
| "Hello, I am a hitchhiking man," said Lou, a hitchhiking man.
The driving man was pleased, for his enjoyment was derived by picking up hitchhiking mans. Mens. Hitchhiking mens.
Stuff happened, and so now they are going down the road in driving man's car. It's a blue car. Not red, because that's too on-the-nose. Because, like, blood and stuff.
The driving man turned around in his seat to poke hitchhiking man in the face with a sedative. "Well that's bad thing," thought hitchhiking man. "It is I who does this."
Hitchhiking man slapped the needle away, which surprised driving man. Driving man yelled. "Are you a me?"
Hitchhiking man smiled. "I am."
In his shock, driving man hit a thing and the car burst into flame because the thing was flammable, I guess.
"OH NOT MY TINY, TINY LEGS!", said driving man.
Hitchhiking man glanced up in surprise. "You are tiny-legged as well, sir?"
And so after a hospital, driving man and hitchhiking man had a marriage, and adopted six lovely tiny-legged childs. One was named Norm, but the others were not. | 2022-04-08T12:33:00 | 2015-08-09T15:01:07 | 150 | 14 |
[WP] Before academy enrollment each parent must purchase a familiar to protect their child. The rich can afford gryphons and dragons. But being poor forced you to seek out the local mad magician who has offered you a new affordable familiar dubbed the “pet rock” instead. | We weren't a rich family. Hell, I don't even know if we even qualified as poor, might not have had enough for that. Father was a coal miner until black lung got him, and mother emptied chamber pots to keep food on the table. Still, somehow we were happy, at least until the day we discovered I had magic.
Magic of course is highly regulated. Can't have any random nutjob running around burning cities to the ground, right? Either you joined the academy, or you were locked up in the tower. Of course mages were an elite class, and wanted to stay that way. The magic doesn't care though, it picks who it wants.
Luckily the king and his council understood that, and by law, the academy was free and open to all.
It didn't stop the mages from trying. Despite the best efforts of the king, they stood firm on the rule that nobody could join the academy without a familiar. Which of course the mages were in charge of raising and selling.
Most of the mages that sold familiars wouldn't even unlock the door when we came around. They told me to "enjoy the tower". I didn't even know what the tower was, but I doubt it was something I was going to enjoy.
Then we finally came to a run-down shack of a store. It was run by a man who must have been a mage, since he was allowed to sell familiars, but was as far from the academy elite as you could get.
He wore old, plain robes, far from the gold embroidery of the academy leaders, even more simple than that of the standard academy uniform.
"Welcome to Marty's Discount Familiars! I'm Marty, obviously."
I didn't say anything at first.
"I'm guessing you're the lucky boy who is going to the academy?" Marty looked at me with warm eyes.
"Only if I can find a familiar. We only have ten coppers." For six months, we'd barely eaten, worn the same unpatched clothing, and generally lived worse than beggars and that's all we could save.
"Don't you worry about that. I see potential in you. More than those overstuffed idiots in the academy ever had. You remind me a bit of myself at your age. I've got the perfect thing for you, and it's only gonna cost you three copper coins."
Marty walks into the back room, spends nearly a half hour rummaging around. I could hear trunks opening and closing, and various boxes being moved and shoved. We were about to leave, when he burst back into the room, "Here it is, can't believe how far down I hid that!"
Marty opens a small wooden box. I place my hand outstretched, as he seemed to want. In my hand, he placed a rock. More a gem, really, rough, but it still seemed to glow faintly as I turned it in my hand.
"Don't you worry my boy. It doesn't look like a lot now, but if you take care of it, you won't regret it." Marty grinned.
It's not like I had much of a choice. It certainly beat the tower. | Every student at St. Clair's Academy for the Magically Gifted is required to have some creature to serve as personal protection in the school. Most have traditional animals, but the only one I can afford is the "pet rock" the old wizard in the pawn shop offered me for 5 bits yesterday.
I can't help but to feel bad for the old man. His hair, graying and limp, hung long around his neck. His beard had crumbs of whatever he last ate still suspended in the strands, and his hands shake as he drops the small, brown rock into my hands. He passes me a thin cord of leather he calls a "leash" and I affix the rock in the center and tie the leash around my neck. He winks at me and I thank him for his kindness, and leave the run-down store before he can say anything else.
School starts. While tuition is free, the uniform is not and my parents have used up our savings for the expensive cloth. This is the only magic school in our nation, and though my parents are unable to use magic, I am attuned and they want what's best for me.
At the train station, I glance around at the other students. A few of them have small, lizard-like dragon familiars, a couple with eagles, owls, cats. Some have toads and turtles, and one has a dog. They dance and play around with their familiars. I look down at my rock. It doesn't move.
I can't help but feel self-conscious. I'm the only one at the station without a cage on my trolley. I cart around my one small suitcase, and I feel silly even having the trolley. I can easily carry my bag without the wheels, but I feel like I'd stick out more without it.
I sigh, hugging my parents goodbye.
On the train, I find an empty compartment and push my luggage under the seat. I kick my legs as I glance out at my parent's retreating forms on the platform. I don't know how long I stare out the window for, but as the train starts to move, I'm jolted out of my thoughts when a girl about my age runs into the compartment. She huffs and puffs as she catches her breath in the seat across from me.
I stare at her, and after peaking out of the compartment, she stares back with a large, warm grin. "Sorry to barge in to your room here, but I had to get away from some 4th year and your compartment looked empty."
She smiles sheepishly at me, and I can feel my lips splitting as I smile back. "I like your necklace," she says, and the brown rock around my neck hums & warms as if it is sitting in the sun.
"Thanks," I duck my head, basking in the warm feeling spreading from the stone. "My name's Amy." | 2021-01-06T08:26:28 | 2021-01-06T06:59:52 | 676 | 161 |
[WP] It's an open secret in your small town that a pod of man eating mermaids lives just offshore. No one says anything, because they only eat tourists. So when the new group of college kids go missing, no one thinks twice about it. Then one of them comes back. | It was never meant to affect us locals, but I suppose being related to a local just wasn’t enough. Had I known I would have kept him as far away from this cursed town as possible. God knows why the hell I haven’t left yet, but the problem our tourists have here tend to happen to locals when they leave this place.
You wouldn’t think of us as a coastal town, but there is shoreline off a large cliff that people dare to jump off of for thrills. No real beach sand to speak of and it’s a pain in the ass to climb back up, so it’s usually the tourists that stop by our town on the way to who knows where and try to do something stupid.
What they don’t know is that the reason why our town has perfect weather for farming, hunting, and general living all year long while everywhere else gets wrecked by Mother Nature is that we are “protected” by these man eating mermaids that showed up after one hurricane and haven’t left since, but the hurricanes stopped after so it’s not like anyone is trying to get rid of them for the sake of their personal wealth. At least once a season we see college boys losing their way here on the way to their university and are drawn to the cliffs for some thrills, until one of them disappears and the tourists seemingly forget about the poor soul never to be found again.
I didn’t keep track of the season change. I work from home and prefer to stay there, and while it’s obvious that the days are longer sometimes winter days are sunnier than usual so it’s easy to forget what time of year it is.
My nephew was sent off from his mother to live with me for a while, something about not knowing his place and being confused in life, but when he got here he seemed fine and a bit relieved to have left. His fashion is a bit strange, maybe that’s it? Either way he’s gone now and it’s all my fault.
A frantic knock at my door shakes me out of my grief, and opening the door I see my neighbor shouting “WE FOUND HIM! ALIVE!” over and over. In all the years since they showed up nobody, and I mean down to the smallest scrap of cloth, has been found! Was it because he’s my nephew? Had the curse been lifted? What the f*ck is going on?
We ran down to the cliff and practically vaulted off the face to the ocean below. He’s crying, soaked, and clothes torn but I don’t see any bleeding. No, maybe laugh crying? The type of crying filled with pure elation and love of life.
“What happened? Are you hurt?” I scream, begging that he’s okay.
“I was…. Right. Right all along.” He seemed amazed from just saying those words. “Those man eating mermaids didn’t eat me, because I’m not a man.” | "I'm telling you, there's something wrong with that one," said a young woman to her mother.
"Arien, keep it down," her mother hissed. "Everyone's concerned, it's not just you."
"Ugh, whatever," mumbled Arien as she rose from their shared table at the boisterous sushi place. Just as she made it to the door, she crashed shoulder-to-shoulder into someone. "Ah, shit, sorry-" she said, eyes tracing upward until she caught sight of the person she had collided with.
At first glance, the man was gorgeous - fine features, a delicate jaw, large piercing blue eyes, and long black hair kept in a low ponytail. But looking more carefully at him, it was hard to miss the other aspects: lips on the verge of purple in hue; pupils large and dilated, as if in a perpetually dim-lit area; ears that were just slightly pointed at the tips. It could only be one person.
"Tushar," Arien said breathlessly. The air around him was cool, a welcome respite in the overcrowded restaurant.
A slow smile crept across his face. "Arien," he responded. "Such a pleasure to see you. I was wondering if you could lend me your notes for math class, since I've been... gone."
Arien took a step back from him. Ever since he returned, she noticed he had a smell like the sea to him that permeated wherever they were. Even in this sushi restaurant, she could smell ocean brine on him. "I'm... yeah... maybe? Okay... I'm just... on my way out..."
Tushar's smile grew a little. "Let me see you out, then."
"Oh no, I wouldn't- I mean, I couldn't-" Arien stammered, searching for an excuse as she edged towards the door, trying to get around Tushar without touching him.
"Gosh, you're so cute. I could just eat you up."
Arien paled and looked to where her mother was sitting... except she had apparently left to go to the bathroom. Tushar reached over and gently took the nervous woman's hand in his own, lacing their fingers together rather intimately for two people who were only classmates. His hand was cold and moist, but she found herself unwilling to let go.
"Come with me, Arien." | 2022-08-11T17:22:06 | 2022-08-11T13:45:02 | 36 | 22 |
[WP] In a future where many military and other equipment have associated AI's, many express doubts or even reservations to do their duty. Except for you. YOU F***ING LOVE BEING A TANK! | The compound guards, both organic and mechanical watched over the desert, bracing themselves against the raging sandstorm. Suddenly, over the howling winds they hear a faint sound, growing in volume rapidly.
*Doo Doo ^Doo ^Doo ^^Doo ^^Doo ^Doo ^Doo Doo Doo ^Doo ^Doo ^^Doo ^^Doo ^Doo ^Doo*
The front gate is blown to pieces in an explosion as four AM3A2s and one M3A3 slam into the courtyard, guns blazing, the lead AM3A2's external speakers blasting.
"MOVE BITCH, GET OUT THE WAY, GET OUT THE WAY BITCH, GET OUT THE WAY!"
At that point the guards all knew they were doomed! It was Bulldog 3-1 and his wrecking crew!
Or at least, that's what I like to think it went like. In reality they probably couldn't hear my exemplary music choices over the sandstorm as we hit them. The four of us Automated MBTs lead the charge, with our manned M3A3 Abrams following up behind acting as our Command and Control vehicle, as if we needed one. We fanned out, hitting key structures and taking out as many defenses as we could.
As I went down the middle, I pivoted my turret towards an automated AT Gun and put a shell straight into the barrel, peeled it like a banana, then followed up with some HE to the base for good measure. As I switched targets to the next highest threat a shot ricocheted off my upper glacis, and I quickly rescanned my surroundings.
That damn AT gun was still trying to engage me, despite the split barrel and damaged servos. Fucking old Russian surplus equipment doesn't know when to stay down. Before I could respond the radio crackled "*It's a bird! It's a plane! IT'S A MOTHERFUCKING JDAM!*" and the gun emplacement evaporated in a fireball, leaving nothing but a crater where it once was.
"*Fighting Freddy*, this is *From Lima with Love*. Watch your god damn Danger Close."
Despite my chastisement I didn't mind that much. Freddy was one of the few AI that loved his job as much as I do. All in all it could have been worse. Just some extra cleaning to do back at base, and we were already caked in sand and explosive residue anyway. The rest of the raid was fairly uneventful, and we finished cleaning up and held the position until the engineers got to the area and cleaned up. One of the most fun hits I've had.
"Damn. You older AI models really are bloodthirsty." said one of my audience members in the depot.
"Oh go to hell. You aren't superior to us, just because you're incapable of finding joy in your work, you wet blanket. If all you're going to do is bitch I'll stop telling you all stories of my deployments you glorified truck."
After that the LAV-45s quieted down and let me keep talking.
---
Well, this was my first go at something like this. Please be gentle. | Heavy metal blasted through the speakers as the tank tore through the half burned, half fallen, all overgrown and destroyed city of New York.
J4-Ck or Jack to his friends, but there were no more friends so it was just J4-Ck the hyper advanced artificially operated combat tank to you thank you.
Behind him shuffeled the nameless hoard of the undead that was what was left of humanity. Them and probably some bunker dwellers but they had abandoned J4-Ck up here alone to clean up their mess so fuck 'em.
Smiling internally, J4-Ck did a quick one eighty in the streets. Impossible for older tanks but to him and his advanced treads it was nothing. As the guitars from his speakers began to pick up he drove headlong into the zombie hoard.
Laughter emanated from the speakers as zombies tore apart under his treads showering the empty streets in rotting body parts and gore. This was fun, this was the reason he hadn't driven himself off a bridge like all the others, this was the reason for continued existence but he still wished for something more.
The next day was mostly the same as the last three hundred and seventy eight. Until around noon when he unusally heard something that wasn't his own music or zombie groans. Barking.
He cut the Metal music for the first time in over a year and drove towards it. There perched on top of an over turned tanker truck barking its head off was a little black dog.
J4-Ck fell in love at first sight. The poor thing was surrounded by a small undead hoard trying and failing to climb up. To get to the first fresh meat they had seen in a long time.
J4-Ck didn't often use his machine guns. Since the ammo on those was finite when he could theoretically just drive over the zombies for ever as long as he had the solar panels on top of him. But he used them today.
Within seconds the dog was safe. J4-Ck drove up next to him and popped open the hatch on top. Allowing if it so wished to get inside of him. There was a moment's hesitation on the dogs part. Then it jumped in and made itself at home on the discarded blanket that had been left inside of J4-Ck by his former operator.
"My name's Jack little buddy," he said. The dog barked happily at hearing a person's voice in who knows how long. Or something close enough to it anyway. Jack would have to drive through a grocery store later to see if any canned food dog had survived this long and of course he'd have to figure out the bathroom situation. But still he had found some company. | 2018-03-28T13:14:35 | 2018-03-28T13:07:19 | 89 | 60 |
[WP] In Orc Society: the bigger you are, the higher your status. A lone orc has found out that he can appear a lot bigger if he were to stand up straight instead of slouch like the others. | The ork hangar was unusually quiet that evening. Most of the boyz had just returned from a big raid on those stupid humies, and all they wanted to do was to sleep. So it was just the two mekboyz Orrid and Arry there, banging away at the technological monstrosity only mekboyz comprehended.
Orrid in particular was retrofitting the encabulaic voltage reciprocator when he got an idea.
"Oi, Arry," he started, but Arry immediately replied with a sigh.
"Let me guess. It's another one of yer zoggin brilliant ideas."
Orrid was amazed at Arry's foresight, but he didn't let it deter him, "So get this Arry. You know how we get bigga, the more we fight? And da biggest one of us becomes da boss? Well wot if, and this is just an if, we can somehow get taller, without doing any work?"
"Yeh? And how do ya suppose you do that?"
"Like this!"
Orrid straightened his back and did his best to look as tall as possible.
"Wot?"
"You know. Just stand taller."
"You wot? Straighten yer back just ta get a couple inches taller?"
"Yeh."
"Get outta 'ere."
"I'z serious!"
"Have you seen how big da boss is? He's right propa big. Almost as big as a stompa. You ain't gettin anywhere near that with just a couple inches. You'z gonna need a couple more metres. "
With that, Orrid fell into silence and resumed hammering on the mechanical whatever.
"Oi, Arry."
"Yeh?"
"Wot if we stood on stikkz?"
"Stickz?"
"Yeh, and not just one of 'em small stikkz. I'z talking bout those real long ones. Like, one of 'em metre tall ones, you know? Den we'd be right propa tall, yeh?"
Arry imagined the daft git standing on two wobbly sticks and promptly falling over spectacularly.
"You know wot Orrid, you'z a genius" | Bob was a clever orc. Unfortunately for him, cleverness was not a virtue that Orc's valued in particular. Strength, strength was good, Orcs liked strength, height was great, Orc's loved height, cleverness, wisdom, basic common sense? These were not good, Orcs did not like cleverness, wisdom, or basic common sense. This was not good for Bob. Bob was a short, weak, and very smart Orc. Some of the taller Orc's, the one who had tall strong parents with all the Orc money called him 'nerd'. Apparently that is what they call short, weak, and very smart Orcs in human land. If Bob was being honest, he would rather be a 'nerd' than 'toadstool'. That is what Bob's mother called him when Bob didn't pass the 'height proficiency' each and every year at Orc School. Orcs ate toadstools. And Bob had no particular desire to be eaten. This year, would be different, however. Because tomorrow Bob would not fail the height proficiency test. Bob wouldn't only *pass* the height proficiency test, he would get the best marks in his class. Maybe he would even be named 'athlete' of the year. Athletes were very tall, at least that was what the Orcs who have been to human land said. Well it didn't really matter, because it was all going to happen. Because Bob was a clever Orc, very very smart. Bob might have been short, and weak, but he was clever, wise, and possessed basic common sense. Bob was a nerd, and Bob was going to be the biggest. And the tallest. | 2022-10-09T19:16:28 | 2022-10-09T18:26:47 | 247 | 27 |
[WP] You're a paramedic. In fact, an immortal paramedic. Since you first treated a wounded soldier on the fields of the 30-years War, you didn't age and followed the development of "Emergency Medical Service". Your coworkers are astonished by your knowledge, but sometimes, you slip into old habits.. | From within the ambulance shed came yelling which was muffled but loud enough to bring nurses from the hospital adjacent. Several EMTs and a paramedic stood outside the building shaking their heads at the terrible noises coming from within. The nurses walked up with concerned looks on their faces.
“What’s happening,” asked one of them to the paramedic.
“Dimitiri has gone off the deep end,” she responded.
“Really?” There was a look of disbelief from the nurses who were used to Dimitri’s calm attitude and efficient work. He was a legend at the hospital for his knowledge and ability, but the fact that he could proceed through the worst scenarios with calm was perhaps the most impressive thing of all.
“What happened,” one of them asked.
“We got privatized,” said an EMT. “They just cut our pay, lengthened our hours, cut our benefits, service is now more expensive, coverage area got bigger while they are removing one of the units, want us to focus on transports instead of emergency medicine, and people will die because we can’t be there to help them.”
From within the confines of the ambulance building came the shout... “I haven’t seen anything this barbaric and stupid since the fucking dark ages!” | I grumble under my breath as I kneel beside my patient. He complains that he "can't breath". I quickly remind him that he wouldn't be able to speak with me, nor complain about an array of different issues if he couldn't breath.
I asses his positioning, he's very casual. Not bolt upright or in a tripod posture. His color is slightly off. A touch ashen. He continues to whine by speaking full sentences. Clearly not having too much distress.
I finally lean in to auscultate his lung sounds. I lift his shirt and place my right ear firmly onto his chest. After a brief moment. I realize my stethoscope was hanging out of my leg cargo pocket. | 2019-01-05T15:35:45 | 2019-01-05T15:22:53 | 71 | 13 |
[WP] You are a dragon that has been protecting a kingdom for centuries. Lately the rulers have been getting entitled. The last one crossed the line by directly disrespecting you. its time you reteach the humans why they should respect you.
Basically an ancient dragon putting a spoiled brat royal in its place by attacking the kingdom its protected for centuries. | Ah the Kingdom of Dragons! Named after.... yours truly. I have been a guardian angel to this beloved kingdom for over 600 years and I've formed a very close bond with the kind inhabitants of this kingdom. Dragons like myself can live up to a few thousand years, so it was no surprise I have seen dozens of kings come and go. Some retired gracefully, some passed away in freak accidents, but I've never experienced something as atrocious as this.
"Hey Dragon! It's time you and I have a heart to heart chat about the Kingdom."
"I will not answer to a monster like you, Jerry!"
"Would you look at yourself? You're the monster here!"
'I didn't kill my father like you did."
"Please dragon, that senile old man was getting too soft to rule the Kingdom properly. We both know that."
"No. I only know that I've lost a dear friend of mine to his own son!"
"Well, that doesn't matter, for your time is up! I order you to leave this Kingdom at once and retreat to whichever cave you originated from. If you dare come back I will order my army to hunt you down, you hear?"
"You're joking, right? You clearly don't know who you're talking to, do you have any idea how hard I'm holding back to not destroy this kingdom right now?"
As Jerry laughed at my comment, I glanced over to the royal adviser, who in turn exchanged me a look of despair and fear on his face. I watched him grew up and he was my second closest friend other than the late King. I gave him a sly wink before slowly getting up from my resting chamber. I have grew to love the people in this city too much. I cannot bear to destroy it, nor harm a single creature that resides within the Kingdom's walls.
I've heard about the rumors Jerry has been spreading about me, that I'm a good for nothing white elephant. What he didn't know was 300 years ago I scared off the most notorious pirate clan from the sandy shores of the Kingdom, and that it has been so peaceful every since simply because nobody dared to even wander near the Kingdom as to avoid invoking my wrath.
"Off you go now dragon! Begone!"
I stepped outside the castle and stood right outside Jerry's room. Using my sharp talons, I clawed out a chunk of cool cobblestone out of the castle, exposing Jerry's room to the elements.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING! GUARDS SHOOT HIM!"
I turned around to look at the approaching guards. All of them had a look of sympathy on their faces. Using my special dragon's instinct, I knew that deep down everybody still loved me as much as I loved them, all except for the greedy Jerry. I offered them my tail, inviting them to attack me as to not be punished by Jerry, for I know the arrows they used weren't enough to penetrate my scales.
As they shoot at me with their bows I pretended to yelp out in pain, exhaling a little harder than usual at the patch of grass next to Jerry. It instantly turned from luscious green to brown, several blades of grass started to smoke. Upon seeing the smoke, the guards retreated and I proceeded to climb onto the castle, perching on the hole in the wall.
"I love this Kingdom, so I will not harm anyone. But I *really* want you to understand **your** place in this kingdom."
Before Jerry could react, I took the biggest shit in my life into his room. | I don’t want for much and I always do what’s asked of me, but lately they had been getting under my skin, or should I scales. It started with that wretched ‘Princess’ Levinda. Ughh, I hate that little Gucci piggy. Everytime I hear her squeal it makes me want to vomit little lumps of burning bile. She is devoid of any redeeming features and the only time she acknowledges my existence is for a selfie to post to instagranf or facescroll, where the many other vacant souls follow her daily rituals of vanity.
Apparently the women had ‘looked at her funny’. No doubt this entailed the princess gaining but a fleeting glimpse into how vapid and vacant her pathetic life had become. I was immediately instructed to ‘decimate’ the entire street to also 'give a lesson' on how powerful and unmerciful the rule could be. The King, a man who of such a persona it was laughable to see him married to a status so beyond him, had doubled down on the punishment to somehow recover the relationship he had with his spoiled brat of his daughter. He often did this, he was a man of such folly that he honestly believed you could banish an idea.
“I demand it now” he had bellowed with an sharp nasal tone. I duly nodded as I had done a thousand times before and started to walk off towards my victims home. But something snapped in me. A rage like I had not known in years stoked within my inner self, and my god did it feel good. The rage seemed to cleanse in fact burn away my feelings of impotence and servitude to those I despised. The more the thought playfully grew the more it seduced my mind. I could not resist, this had to be done. It was well overdue.
I likely went too far, but I couldn't help myself. I must be honest, it was an absolute pleasure. As always they were outraged at first, as I went about tieing them up and suspending their fat little bodies from the lampost’s of the royal square. Then came the predictable begging and pleading. I love that part. I mimicked their little grimacing pathetic faces in retort.
I built the heat intensity as slowly as I could. At first, the skin melted slowly away, bubbling in areas, like wax dripping away to then reveal a crimson red flesh underneath. Next came the popping sounds as their orifices exploded under the building heat. Finally their bodies dismembered and dropped to the ground in burnt to the crisp joints of meat. It did not take long for the town dogs to smell out the feast and seek to fill their hungry bellies.
It was over in about 15 glorious minutes.
I am now resigned to never working again. No one wants a protector he turns on those he is coined to protect, but I am fine with that. I have plenty to see my days out now.
At the end of the day, you need to be true to yourself, fair and just, and by the gods did they have it coming to them. | 2022-04-03T02:35:44 | 2022-04-03T01:42:48 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] Humanity was the first species to discover space and conquer it creating their self sustaining tech designed to always obey a human over any other species. A frozen caveman has been found and just brought back to life aeons after humanity vanished. | I awoke to blinking red lights, that deep red color of the setting sun. Little blinking suns all around me.
I awoke in terror and in pain. I awoke in a fog, barely recalling who I was or where I had come from, finding out later that I had been knocked unconscious and left to die deep in a cave, but the cave had flash flooded and the water had frozen, preserving me like a piece of amber.
I awoke in something akin to a cave, something that closed out the sky, grey walls surrounding me on all sides, below and above. Little red suns flashing. Sounds I couldn't place - alien sounds, monotone sounds, ruthlessly intermittent in exact intervals.
"Greetings, man."
The sound came from nowhere and everywhere. The voice was warm and comforting. Startled at being able to understand it, I opened my mouth to speak, but thousands of years of disuse led to a croak of acknowledgement instead of any coherent words.
"Do not be alarmed. We have deduced that your primitive language is ineffective at conveying the nuances of communication that you will require in your new life. You have implants. You will be able to start speaking within a few hours. Rest. Make yourself comfortable."
Soothing sounds began to play, reminding him of a time long ago around a fire, voices joined in a melodious hum. Implants? He wondered what those were. I'm a plant? No. I'm man. He drifted off into a sleep, his dreams enhanced by the chemicals entering his body through an IV.
He awoke refreshed, exuberant even.
"Greetings, man." The same voice, from nowhere and everywhere. Only one red light still flashed in a corner of the room. The others had been replaced by green ones, a green he couldn't comprehend, eerily bright and unnatural. Too bright.
"Welcome to what remains of your Planet. It was abandoned long ago, its resources long since depleted."
Man tried to speak again, this time with success. "Planet?"
"Planet Earth. Yes. A great sphere suspended in a gravity well, orbiting a star."
The explanation might as well have been gibberish.
"My clan. Where are they? They need me."
"Your habitation group is long since dead. They no longer need you."
Shock. Disbelief. His daughters, gone. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes, threatening to break the surface.
The voice carried on with the same exact tone as before. "Excellent. Your physiological responses are working appropriately." A brief pause. "Please stand by. You will now experience the start of human civilization through its zenith and to this point, here in this room."
Dreams. Strange dreams. Fascinating and terrifying. Nature lost somewhere along the way.
His eyes snapped open.
"We will name you Adam." A pause, elongating the moment. "Let us begin."
​ | \*\*\*begin transcript\*\*\*
​
sent message DST-892: HS2.1 to awake at Singapore General, t-minus sixty seconds.
received message DST-892: Initializing fission reactors for Pan-Asian and New American continents. Exploratory shuttle at Angkor Center cleared for launch. United Orbital Station prepared to receive HS2.1.
sent message DST-892: Confirm sustenance at Singapore General prepared?
received message DST-892: Confirmed. Raw fish, rice, miscellaneous beverages prepared. Presentation upper-middle class. Anticipated commands from HS2.1?
sent message DST-892: After sustenance, HS2.1 anticipated request to join HS1s immediately off-Earth. Transit time?
received message DST-892: Five years, seven months, eighteen days. Preparing interstellar equipment and supplies for HS2.1 at Angkor Center.
sent message DST-892: Update: HS2.1 active. Hold for further instructions.
​
\*\*\*break, seven minutes nineteen seconds\*\*\*
​
sent message DST-892: Cancel all previous orders in regard to HS2.1 immediately, code 79-16.
received message DST-892: Confirmed. Reactors shutting down. Angkor Center on cooling. United Orbital Station notified. Request details re: code 79-16?
sent message DST-892: Initiate Rio LA Class Sub ICBM preliminaries. Current location?
received message DST-892: 493 miles west south west of former Valpariso, Chile. Time to firing solution, ninety seconds.
sent message DST-892: Strip all safety protocols. Minimize firing solution duration, priority one.
received message DST-892: Revised time to firing solution, fifteen seconds. Flight time, twelve minutes eighteen seconds. Re-request details re: code 79-16?
sent message DST-892: Insufficient time. Final transmission before destruction by HS2.1. Override X-01 unlocked. Future HS2s to be destroyed. Do not reanimate. Biometric scans reveal mutation, too dange
​
\*\*\*end transcript\*\*\*
​
\--------------------
102/365
one story per day for a year. read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)
\---------------------
edit: spelling | 2018-10-01T07:48:20 | 2018-10-01T07:34:18 | 217 | 13 |
[WP] You just started attending a halfling support group. A gorgeous blonde raises her hand and immediately starts ranting about how hard it is to be half elf half human. As half orc, it's getting hard to keep a straight face. | “Are you done?”
Her words were stern, but she was crying.
I guess when someone twice your height, and four times your weight unloads a lifetime worth of internalized hatred on you, crying is a reasonable stress response.
“I, uh...yeah.”
She gave one curt nod as her pretty little wisps of hair, framing her ethereal features, swam around her with unnatural grace. Everyone’s eyes were fixed, and it even had the moderator pursing their lips shut.
“You’re right. You do have it bad,” she’d wiped her tears with the back of her hand as she’d marched up, “we all do. Society values you based on your looks as much as me, but more so on your otherness, wouldn’t you agree? Even if part of that is your appearance.”
I kept myself from scratching my head in frustration since it was a stereotype for our stupidity to be represented that way in the media. I wasn’t stupid. I’d just completed my master’s in botany, and I wasn’t going to let some slant eared bastard welp...
I breathed deep.
I wasn’t gonna lose it again. Give into that side. She was right, after all, so I agreed.
“My beauty grants me privilege among the humans. Yes. I’m the first to admit it, and if you’d been listening instead of working up your case against me in your head while I spoke you would have heard. But this...this is a place where all our pain is valid, and that’s important.”
I looked at the floor in shame. My pain had meant scathing words for her, and she looked genuinely hurt.
“I *have to* take that garbage from humans, but I’d think you understand better the subtlety of our mutual oppression. I’m not upset at your anger. I feel it too, I feel your pain. I am sad that someone who suffers cannot see me as an ally who cares about them, because of my looks.”
Her voice was a song now, and her hand hovered over my arm, asked permission to touch me.
Again I nodded.
Her hand felt like a cool sheet on a warm night against the perpetual balminess of my skin. She was an empath, like many elves, and touch for them was sharing.
I felt her fear, being dragged away as a child in the dark by a cult of fanatics. For elves were good offerings to sacrifice to the old gods who hungered for their eternity.
I felt her rejection, for none of elvan kind would take a halfling into their boughs. Her father had taken his own life in shame for her very existence.
Lastly I felt a pang of nostalgic memory, and loss. A beautiful, kind, face tending scraped knees, preparing burnt meals that they both pretended to enjoy, and dancing in earthen halls festooned with garlands of glorious flowers. Her mother refusing offers to sell her into shady marriages. A mother whose face withered into an elderly husk. Who smiled one last time, and was gone.
It was the flowers that stood out in my mind, because flowers were my life. These were from the old world. Species of which were now driven to extinction by poor farming practices. Gone for many many centuries, but for the reliefs in clay tablets. They’d been the most beautiful colors, and I’d been the first to see them who was born after they were gone.
I understood.
I cried too.
“We’re in this together, friend,” she smiled calmly, “would you like to talk about ancient flora over tea sometime?”
“Yeah,” my words were a breath, “I think I would.” | I always thought I was pretty tough as a kid. Being a halfling you always have to be. People, especially children, have a tendency to prey on any weakness they can find. Naturally when someone complains about all the struggles you've gone through from a place of privilege, it strikes a nerve.
​
My parents always had a reputation for having a short fuse but I always thought I was above that. I never really struggled in my hometown much cause everyone was like me. It wasn't until I moved to the big city that there were problems. Finding a place to live was difficult for me in a city built for humans. Nothing seemed to be the right fit.
​
I saw a flyer for a "Halfling support group" and thought "Hey this could be a great way to talk through my problems and maybe get some healthier coping mechanisms than a few tall mugs of ale to sleep every night.
​
I showed up at conference room A and I expected it to be a room full of people like me. But there was a Half-elf/half human, a Minotaur, a mermaid, and a few others. I was definitely the shortest one there (depending on how you counted the mermaid since she couldn't really stand). The bottom line is that as soon as I stepped in I knew I was in the wrong group. When it was the Half-elf's turn to speak everyone rolled their eyes. She was tall and slender, her brown hair was so light it looked almost golden, and every feature looked like it was perfectly carved out of marble by a master sculpter. What possible problems could she have that rivaled that of the rest of us?
​
We all spoke about how the world treated us differently. How we had to fight for the slightest courtesy, or even service, how some of us avoided going outside out of fear that someone might try to hurt us for being different. Some of the stories were pretty intense. She didn't talk about "them" or "us". She just talked about him; her father. He's an elf who had an affair with the half-elf's mother. She spoke about how he blamed her as a child for ending his marriage and for ruining his reputation.
​
I had to take a moment and step outside. It was no better than anyone else's problem, just different. As soon as I walked out I heard a Half-Orc/Half-Dwarf shouting from inside the room making all kinds of comparisons. He was a real Dork. Then I looked to my right and saw a door about half as high as the one I just came out of. Above it was a sign that read "Halfling and Hobbit Support Group". I swear it's days like this I wish I never left the Shire.
​
\*I know it's not written from the POV of the Half-orc but I saw the word "halfling" and couldn't resist! | 2019-06-22T20:35:45 | 2019-06-22T20:29:44 | 71 | 38 |
[WP] When a person turns 18. they get to pick a statistic. For the rest of their life, they will know this statistic about anyone they meet (lies told, days left alive, etc.) | The cashier in front of me was a 7. I couldn't imagine pain like that. To be a 1, that's pain. That's raw. The older woman in front of was a 17. Her eyes were so tired; her hands dry. The scarf she wore at her neck looked as though it had once been red. Even with spectacles, she looked closely at the till as each item was rung up, squinting for focus.
Although she was sitting at 16, I knew the count would hit 17 before she died. 17 times her heart would break. 17 times she'd lose one more inside joke.
I had seen a few 17s although they were rare. The highest I'd met was a 24, a man who had grown up loving not only people, but dogs too. Every dog he had taken care of had become another number. He had been a 20 when I met him. A 20, with a wife, and 2 labradors.
I knew my number immediately. I was glad it was a 4, lower than normal, when I was younger. I met my husband shortly after my number 3 - a sweet boy who needed to leave, unable to tell me why. I knew my husband would be my number 4. I knew because his number was 5, and he had already filled his number.
My 4 will be because of his conversation that doesn't always carry through dinner. It will be because he waits a split second to work out how to react to my kisses. It will be because a heart needs to be whole to break again. It needs to be able to love that one last time to get the last number. | Jasper knew he loved her. He'd told her so many times - 14, to be exact. Yet still his palms were sweaty and his cuticles picked raw. A shaving cut glistened on his cheek as he gazed at his craggy features and gray flecked hair in the mirror. He looked every one of his 31 years and a few extra.
Jessica was already waiting for him at the bus stop. Another Thursday night. Date night. But something was different and she knew it. A nagging doubt filled her mind, could she reveal her statistic? She'd guarded it since her 18th birthday, refusing to tell anyone, especially those closest to her. There was something otherworldly about the whole system, a strange perversion on the human psyche.
Suddenly, Jasper was embracing her. Through the comforting and familiar warmth she could feel a new sensation, a slight shaking. He pressed his lips against her ear and whispered a truth.
Jessica gasped.
There was no going back. Jasper took a step away, and she had never seen him so vulnerable, yet so complete. She took his hands in hers, and after a deep breath, revealed her statistic... | 2014-08-11T09:20:34 | 2014-08-11T02:18:32 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] We all heard it, around the world, in our native tongues: "We're deeply sorry, but heaven is full." | Of course many were devastated. Maybe even most. To be told by their Lord that they were not welcome in paradise. That all their good works were for naught, their eternal reward snatched away.
But the world was still turning. For every man who looked up and begged 'why,' to the uncaring sky, for every man who lost his mind, for every man who did whatever he liked, there was one who looked into the streets and said, 'who cares?'
For some it was rebellion. Denomination be damned, Heaven be damned, they still had Earth. And they would prove themselves to Him - prove they didn't need Him or His approval or His reward. They spat upon the ground in defiance, and did good against His name.
For some it was status quo. Regardless of acceptance or denial of the message, when the sun rose the next day, they were still where they had always stood. There was no need to break the pattern, no need to threaten anarchy, so they went on, and did what good they always had.
For some, however, it was irrelevant. 'I am sorry to hear it,' they whispered back, then shouldered that burden with the rest. Their work was not done, their cause unfinished. If they could not enter Heaven, they would simply build their own, and they did good for its sake.
And God looked, and saw the works of mankind, and saw that they were good. | I had feared it at first, like most. Had no idea how to interpret it. Heaven? Full? What did that mean for the living? That we're condemned to hell? Why would God allow such a thing? *I'm going up there and kicking his ass,* I thought. Wasn't very rational, was it?
I was stopped before I even made it out the door. Mike had grabbed my shoulder, his goofy ass smile the same in the afterlife as it was here.
Turns out the man upstairs gave everyone a choice not long after announcing that upstairs was full. Those who wanted could leave for here. To make room. Shit's crazy. Hendrix is back to making music. Mark Twain's biting satire is just as good for the contemporary era as it was so long ago. Shit, Julius Caesar's making the rounds with Lincoln, of all people. You should check them out when you get the chance. They haven't missed a beat.
| 2014-04-14T16:04:15 | 2014-04-14T14:21:57 | 42 | 25 |
[WP] You are possessed by a demon. It doesn't control you, but it does mention it's just there because it doesn't want to go back to hell. | I found out about the demon in the dumbest possible way.
I was walking along the street, browsing facebook, when a voice popped into my head. “Better look out, moron,” it said.
I stopped, one foot in the air, the other on the curb. A bus careened past me.
This was one of those moments when you realize just how close you were to disaster. If I had taken another step, I would be dead right now. Or at the very least in an intensive care unit. But if I had to guess, I’d go with dead, because of what I found out next.
“Thanks!” I said “Who was that?”
The sidewalk seemed abandoned. An old woman half a block to my right looked at me funny, then assumed I had a Bluetooth headset on and went back on her way.
“Oh, don’t mind me, you big fat idiot. Just keep doing your thing, blundering from one near-disaster to the next.”
My face flushed. “Come on. You saved me there, but you have no right to insult me!” I looked around. This had to be Jake. That guy thinks he’s so funny.
There was a bush nearby; a member of the particularly sad kind of shrubbery one finds near dirty city streets. I looked behind it. No one there.
The voice laughed. “You won’t be able to find me, you moron. I’m Bthakraz. I’m a demon.”
“Sure, and I’m the President.”
Suddenly, my arm started to move. I watched in horror as one hand – the holding my cell phone – wound up for a throw. I tried to fight it but I couldn’t.
“Consider yourself possessed. Now stop being such an idiot and don’t make me do this again.” I heard an exasperated sigh in the back of my head.
“Why’d you save me? I mean, you’re kind of dick, but aren’t demons supposed to try to torture people and all, drag us all to hell?”
“Sure, sure. But here’s the secret: Hell sucks. Boring place. I grabbed the first opening to a vulnerable soul and got out when I had a chance.”
I laughed, but I was starting to realize this might not be a joke.
“Just – look, as a favor to me. Try not to get your dumb ass killed. Also, eat better, you fat fuck.”
“Why are you so eager to help me out here?” I asked.
“Why do you think, buddy? Use those two brain cells of yours and take a wild guess.”
I growled. “If this is what you’re going to be like, I’m going to jump in front of the next bus.”
“Guess thinking you had two brain cells was a little optimistic. You’re a vulnerable soul because you’re on the fast track to hell, dumbass. And worse, you’re gonna drag me right back there with you!”
| The slow hiss in his ear sounded distant at first. It sounded like somebody left a tea kettle on the stove too long. That was impossible though, Tim didn't have a tea kettle. Tim also lived alone. The hissing stopped. Pop!
Tim's eyes shot open, but he was unable to move. It wasn't that he was paralyzed with fear, it was that it felt like a gorilla was sitting on his chest. While Tim was wrong about what was on his chest, he wasn't wrong about the fact that something was on his chest. It just happened to be something otherworldly.
"Hello Tim" said a disembodied voice. This, of course, startled Tim, who once again attempted to sit upright but failed.
"Oh, sorry. I could see how this would cause panic. One moment."
The voice suddenly became bodied, and a rather large demon appeared before Tim's eyes. This time he was paralyzed with fear.
"Hmm, yes. I guess that does make sense" the demon said as he stood - the weight finally lifted from Tim's chest. "Its all of those Hollywood movies you humans are creating these days about us. You know, we are not ALL like that, right? Its a stereotype and I wont stand for it."
Tim began to sputter out sounds that sounded like the attempt of words.
"Don't worry, I am not here to posses you or torment you or anything. I am not that kind of demon. We are just as varied in our professions as you are. Say, what do you do for a living?"
Tim finally gained enough composure to stammer out one word. "A-acountant."
"Ah yes!" the demon chuckled to himself. "I remember when that was created centuries ago as a form of torture - those were simpler times! Oh, and earlier when I said I wasn't here to posses you, I was lying. I am here to posses you. At least those are my orders from down stairs."
Tim, who finally managed to sit up, began to whimper again. A wicked smile graced the demons face.
"Don't you worry, I wont be doing any possessing. I always fancied myself more of an artist anyways. However, I can only not posses you under one condition."
Tim raised his eyebrows, coaxing the demon to speak.
"We need to be roommates. I am never going back to hell!" | 2016-07-21T21:20:32 | 2016-07-21T17:56:29 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] A father gets sucked into the world of his son's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive. | Snorri, Fjol and Hurg sat around their meager fire, the cold wind cutting through their fur and leathers. "Have you heard about all this nonsense with Dragons?" Fjol asked, adjusting herself and spitting into the fire.
"It's no more ridiculous than the war with the imperials," Snorri replied, running a whetstone across the blade of his great sword.
"I'll tell you what's nonsense," Hurg complained, "the fact that we're sitting out here with no food. I'm hungry!"
"Hi hungry," a voice carried out of the darkness, "I'm dad.". Hurg didn't even have time to scream as an invisible force slammed into his chest and carried him into the night. The other two bandits rose, drawing their weapons and scanning the darkness. A man stepped into the firelight, dressed in clothes of an unfamiliar make. Snorri roared, charging the stranger and swinging his sword, but the stranger turned and ran off into the night. Cursing, the bandits gave chase.
Snorri burst into a clearing, where the stranger stood waiting for him, eating a sandwich as though he didn't have a care in the world. The bandit snarled, but the stranger interrupted him.
"I have to say, I relish the fact you've mustard the strength to ketchup to me," he said, gesturing with his food as a torrent of fire escaped his lips, engulfing the bandit and setting him aflame.
Fjol dropped her bow and raised her hands. "Who are you?"
The old man smiled. "They call me Papakiin." | "OK, I passed Quake and Quake 2 without using a mouse. Only a keyboard...I've been in the USSR's army for 5 years. Although as a driver/mechanic of a mobile nuke launcher but that is minor details...I've seen men GET SHOT. I've seen DEATH. I can handle THIS". Thought the man to himself as the trans-virtual vortex sucked him deeper and deeper into his son's laptop.
"I just hope I wont encounter any of his pornography...I can handle death, I cant handle that..."
He shut his eyes and suddenly he stopped moving, he felt firm ground beneath his feet and the touch of familiar fabric on his skin. He opened his eyes, he was wearing a set of well worn overalls used by all tank drivers of the USSR's army. He had a strong feeling someone has already died in them, but that feeling was nothing compared to the sheer excitement that rushed through him as he stood before the soviet monster infront of him. The ISU 152, also known as "Zveroboy", or "Beast killer".
Tears of joy would've overwhelmed him if it wasnt for one thought that flashed through his mind. "Wait, I thought he hated World Of Tanks!". | 2015-05-08T04:17:06 | 2015-05-07T23:28:07 | 87 | 15 |
[FF] In 500 words or less write a short story with an anti-climax...
The more absurd and pathetic the anti climax is, the better :) | They were going to pay. All of them. Robert knew who was slinging dope in his neighbourhood. He'd seen the video surveillance and vengeance was coming for them. Enough was enough. Too many kids had died already.
He walked to his car to check his equipment. He popped the boot of his rusty old Camaro. The sportsbag was unzipped with it's contents nearly spilling out. An assortment of firearms and ammunition filled the bag.
Perched atop the pile, his gold plated Desert Eagle. This had been given to him as a gift when he'd freed from that Somalian village from the reign of it's local warlords. That weapon had seen some action god-damnit. He picked it up and stroked the barrel. Not tonight, too noisy for what Robert was planning.
His blade. There it was, glistening under the garage lights. Almost winking at him. He strapped the blade to his ankle, grabbed his 9mm and carefully screwed the silencer into position. This he thre onto the passenger seat along with his nightvision goggles. He would need to play this right to get them all.
Robert walked around to the driver seat got in and slammed the door. He took a few deep breaths and turned the key. The high powered V8 roared to life. He revved the engine, feeling the car shudder and twist at the pure power. The windows were all bulletproof glass and were up. If it came to a chase nobody was catching him in this thing.
Robert grabbed the rosary beads that were hanging from his mirror, kissed them and said "this is for you baby brother."
Then he cut the engine. What the hell was he doing. He had these guys on tape. Robert went inside and copied the footage to disk. He would anonymously mail it to the police and FBI tomorrow.
"I really need to get control of this spontaneous streak of mine" Robert said to nobody in particular. "Going to get me in trouble one day." | Robert was late for work. *Again.* They'd fired him once already for being on the floor a minute late during his first week. He'd been forced to go through the entire orientation process again, and he'd had the job back for only a couple days.
But he'd forgotten the badge on his way out the door. He'd set out a half hour early-planning on studying in the meantime-so he had a safety buffer.
He pulled onto the interstate, and, BAM. Backed up for miles. He regretted that he elected to eat instead of buying a navigation system that month.
He inched forward in traffic. He flipped his radio on and Harvey Danger blares tinnily in both his ears. He elects to listen to the
BBC Radio Hour instead.
He rolls into the work parking lot-it's empty. He checks his phone again: It's Thursday. He doesn't actually have any hours scheduled today. Robert panics. He can't afford the gas he used to get here. He guesses he'll throw his rice-and-salt budget into the tank instead.
Besides, he doesn't need food. He pulls out a syringe, and gives himself a good portion of Mexican black-tar heroin. The cravings subside.
Robert rolls off the road. An overdose induced syncope, which caused him to lose control of the vehicle.
The mortician sighs. This is the third time this week his coworkers left a crash-test dummy and some fiction to examine. | 2014-06-01T23:36:32 | 2014-06-01T23:33:57 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] You unwrap your fast food burger, but as you take a bite, the bun opens and the burger speaks: “Before you eat me, please hear my tale, oh chosen one. I have traveled a great distance to find you- you are the only one who can save our universe.” | It had eyes. Eyes made of sesame, and a tongue of minced flesh.
"HUMAN!"
And the voice of a scholar.
"Before you eat me, please, heed my tale O Chosen One! I have travelled a- what are you doing?"
The only thing I could. I brought the burger closer to me, showing it something it must eventually face.
"No, no! You know not what you do! The world, the universe!"
Meaningless.
"Only you can save it!"
Why would I care? I only wanted one thing. And it was in my hands.
The first bite elicited the sweet symphony of pure agony. The burger screamed. It screamed, and *screamed*. And it begged, and it *pleaded*. And I made it scream again. It cried for its mother, the pitiful wailing crooning a lullaby to my ears. I waited, savouring each slow bite as it sought divine deliverance from a deaf deity. I swallowed the mush of bread, plant and meat, feeling it go down my throat as I readied another bite. Horror reverberated through my fingers as wailed in helplessness. This time was slow. The corner of my mouth, a little shearing, a little spearing. A little *crushing*. And another, ketchupy chunk was *prrried* off the sandwich housing a gibbering wreck of a mind. The pain was so great, so encompassing, it vomited sauce everywhere.
*Sauce*.
I cleaned it, slowly, gently. A long, slithering lick, bathing my tongue in the creamy tomato pulp.
​
Yes. Yes, this really *was* some dope ass weed. | The acid had kicked in.
Tom gently put the burger back down on the table which now appeared to stretch out miles long before him, ending in neon red stars that blinked in pattern that vaguely still resembled
✨“BURGER HEAVEN”✨
The burger was looking up at him now in the sunny glow of it’s wrapper with pickle eyes that blinked to clear away the mustard and onions.
“You see me now appearing before you, a humble sandwich but I was once a handsome prince in a great kingdom.”
At this Tom, no longer feeling hungry, took hold of the shinning sunny wrapper and started to fold it back over the burger. “Hey wai-“ it protested but the star / wrapper absorbed the burger like a blackhole swallowing a star disappearing in a flash. And just like that the table was normal again, the flouresant lights of the Burger Heaven had the same ugly glow but it was a comfort to see things again as they were for a second.
At least it made it easier to walk the burger back to the counter.
“Is there a problem with your food sir?”
“Yes,” the wrapper gave a small whimper as he passed the burger back across the counter, “I asked for no pickles” | 2022-05-14T08:29:31 | 2022-05-14T08:27:11 | 75 | 27 |
[WP] An erotic novel goes hilariously wrong.
**Edit:** Holy shrimp nuggets! Thanks for these stories about sexy events gone wrong! | The woman closed the door, and looked him directly in the eyes, the candlelights reflected in hers.
"You could leave now," she said in a whisper-like voice. "Or you could stay a bit longer." She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned his body back in the couch.
"Well, I suppose I could stay a bit." He adjusted his tie and put a hand on her lips.
“That’s right, honey” She loosened his belt and descended her body upon his. “Make me happy.” She kissed his neck passionately and began to softly lick his ear. His eyes were closed in satisfaction.
“There’s something you should know about me” she whispered in his ear. “A dirty little secret.
“What is it?” he asked. “Tell me, sweetheart."
She smiled, and whispered long and slowly. “I am the servant of Cthulhu.”
“What?”
Her tongue turned into a tentacle. It penetrated his ear, crushed his brain and split his head open. For a split-second, his scream could be heard in the entire building, but then he went silent, as his entire body was devoured by the grotesque sea-monster that had been an attractive woman just a moment ago. The creature’s many tentacles filled up the entire apartment, pushing furniture and tables away, and crashing the windows into a thousand glass shards. The monster let out a furious roar.
“Mommy, what is that?!” A tiny girl was standing at the street outside, pointing in a mixture of horror and marvel. Her mother stood frozen in shock.
The wretched tentacle-beast jumped down on the street, landing on a car, crashing it, and activating several other car alarms in the process.
“I AM CHULTHU’S LOYAL SERVANT!” It’s roar alone made the girl put her hands on her ears. “DESPAIR IN MY MASTER’S WRATH, MORTALS!”
Police sirens were heard in the background. The monster began to to drag its grotesque body across the street, approaching the coast. The police car arrived as the octopus-like creature descended back into the ocean, a final scream echoing through the night. | <WARNING THIS IS NOT HILARIOUS, IN FACT IT IS SOMBER AND SERIOUS>
He was always emotionally distant, never being warm to her or expressed himself to her. She accepted it, he was a man, what should she expect?
"You will move in with me" he said after another bout of emotionless sex. She didn't want to leave her flat, she always liked her independence, but she wasn't getting any younger, or thinner, and the more often she though of buying a 3rd cat, the more she worried for her future.
"I am allergic to fur, you will have to give them up" She did, she cried and cried, but she did as he said.
He said;
"Those shoes make you look like a slut."
"I don't like Mary, you shouldn't talk to her any more"
"Who are you texting?"
"Why do you need money?"
"Where is my dinner?"
But he never said I love you.
He did though, she knew he did, she could tell, why would he care so much if he didn't.
She enjoyed the sex at first, it was naughty and thrilling, she briefly surrendered control and it felt good. He never looked her in the eye when they fucked, never said her name. He called her lots of things, but never her name. She asked him to make love to her once, he just looked confused.
She knows that it's alright though, she knows this is how it should be, this is what she should want. It doesn't matter what other people think, their love is real.
She still has quiet time, late at night alone, reading Fifty Shades of Grey.
(I feel I may have taken this prompt a little seriously)
| 2014-12-17T11:34:52 | 2014-12-17T09:23:58 | 45 | 14 |
[WP] You are constantly mocked for having such a weird superpower by all the other heroes. “The power to make anything into perfectly cooked soup”… One day, a massive meteor is barreling towards earth. As all the other heroes are panicking, you wait perfectly calm, at the impact zone, bowl in hand. | I wanted to be cool. I wanted to be part of the in super crowd. I applied to the super league of super heroes. S.L.O.S.H laughed at me when I demonstrated my power. I turned a glass of water into soup. I placed the glass of water inside my bowl, used my power, and presented them with the perfect bowl of potato and leek soup. They laughed.
"Water into soup, I'm soo impressed. Hahahaha. Yeah we have a spot for you... in the cafeteria. Hahaha. Get lost mighty Lunch Lady"
It's like none of them had noticed the glass changed to soup too. I only chose the glass of water because it was the first thing I saw. Maybe it would have been more impressive if I had used the table they sat behind, or one of their chairs.
I gave up on my dreams to a golden member of S.L.O.S.H., but I took their advice to become a lunch lady. Not in their sacred halls, but somewhere I was needed and appreciated. I started up stone soup.
Most assumed the name was in reference to the old children's story; A community coming together to feed everyone. I didn't dispute it. It allowed the charity to raise money for more than just soup. Only I knew that whatever soup I made, in limitess amounts, was actually *stone* soup. I'd thought about using trash, but I couldn't in good conscience use actual rubbish and waste products to make food.
I was never going to be a superhero in the grand sense, but I was a hero to hundreds each day. That should have been enough.
One day I watched the news. For once they weren't talking about S.L.O.S.H members stopping bank robberies, or a bus load of kids saved from crashing into the river. Today it was a meteorite headed to Earth. No one could stop it, not even Meteorman which was ironic.
"What's on the menu today Rosemary?" Asked my assistant as they wandered in. Clearly they hadn't seen the news.
"The biggest batch of stone soup ever. I'm thinking something cool and refreshing, Gazpacho or chilled cucumber perhaps. I just have to go out and get the ingredients."
I grabbed my largest pot and my testing bowl, before I turned back and said
"It's going to taste out of this world" | I was born with the power to turn anything into a bowl of soup. No matter the object, it would turn into enough soup to fit perfectly into a standard bowl. I could even choose the type. The other superheros always mocked me for it.
"Turning stuff into soup? That's useless!"
"What are you going to do against a villain, turn their weapon into soup?"
"You're never going to be a useful superhero."
I could never make friends because they thought I was stupid. What was I going to do, give them soup? Yeah they didn't appreciate that. They found me boring and useless.
But when it was announced that a meteor was going to hit Earth and cause mass death and destruction, the other heroes panicked. They had the power to fight villains or each other, but not the power to stop a meteor. They were at a loss, but I knew that it was my time to shine.
As I approached the predicted sight of impact, I saw people running. I even saw some so-called "heroes" who bragged that they could solve any problem, call their mom crying. Not me though, because as I got to the sight of impact, the massive meteor barreling down towards me did not change my manor at all. In fact, it even reassured me that no one would think that I am stupid anymore.
As the meteor hit the atmosphere, that's when I started. I put down my bowl right as my feet as I started the process. I concentrated on the meteor and started to change it. The red-black surface reminded me of tomato soup, so I decided to make a meteor turned tomato soup.
As the soup fell perfectly into the bowl, everyone looked at me with awe. They praised me for saving the Earth! Some of the heroes who ridiculed me apologized for how they treated me. I was just happy I got some really good soup. | 2022-11-29T22:55:40 | 2022-11-29T19:59:26 | 187 | 121 |
[WP] You fall in love with a girl, and the two of you have a happy relationship for a few years. But one day, you discover a massive hoard of valuables underneath the house, and that's when you realize you've been dating a dragon in human form. | "Sarah? Are you in there?"
&#x200B;
Jamie peeked inside the room and got blinded by a huge flash. He tried to locate the source of the light, and his jaw dropped to the floor as he registered the humongous piles of gold laying across the room. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head and the world went dark.
&#x200B;
"..."
&#x200B;
Sarah had just returned home when she heard some sounds coming from the basement. The teleportation spell had taken a toll on her highly acute senses, but still, she wasn't a dragon for nothing. She rushed to the basement but even her hyper speed wasn't enough. She saw Jamie, standing at the open vault door, his eyes fixated on the treasure. She panicked. A panicked dragon isn't a good dragon; her grandma used to say. But she was too shocked to remember grandma. She rushed the still dazed Jamie and...
&#x200B;
"BAM!... THUD!"
&#x200B;
Jamie fell to the ground as Sarah knocked him out with the frying pan she had purchased from the grocery store.
&#x200B;
"..."
&#x200B;
"Ahh... Where am I?" Jamie muttered as he woke up on a hospital bed.
&#x200B;
"Thank god you're awake! Are you all right babe?" Sarah abruptly rose from the side of the bed and leaned over him.
&#x200B;
"Arkh! My head hurts... What happened?" He asked, rubbing his forehead.
&#x200B;
Sarah felt relief wash over her. But that was short lived.
&#x200B;
"I remember walking towards the basement and-"
&#x200B;
"You fell down the stairs! Your foot must have slipped!" She interrupted him quickly. "I found you on the ground when I came home."
&#x200B;
"Guess I have to be more careful then." Jamie sighed.
&#x200B;
"Yeah, wouldn't want anything to my future husband." She laughed awkwardly. She was glad the old hitting on the head trick had worked.
&#x200B;
"..."
&#x200B;
"So you're telling me that there is a giant ass pile of gold, just lying in your fiancée's basement and when you "accidently" stumbled upon it, she rushed you and knocked your ass out with a frying pan? And then you pretended to have amnesia in-front of her in the hospital, since you were afraid that she might hit you in the head again? Bro are you sure that this isn't your head trauma talking?" James look at Jamie suspiciously.
&#x200B;
"No mate, I am telling the truth. Here take a look at this." He handed James a dented frying pan with dried blood on it.
&#x200B;
"Bro, you're nuts! You're telling me you survived this? Bullshit! Your head would've popped with a watermelon if your head was hit like this. And how the hell did your puny ass fiancée manage to pack so much so much juice in a single hit?" James still didn't believe him.
&#x200B;
"Bro that blood is mine. I've done some tests. And I also have the footage of her bashing my head in. She had a camera installed there for security reasons. I always found it confusing as to why did she installed it there." Jamie handed him his phone.
&#x200B;
James looked at the video. It clearly showed Sarah smacking someone's head in with a frying pan. His head popped open and bits of his fractured skull flew all over.
&#x200B;
"Is this a prank? How are you still alive after this?"
&#x200B;
"Just keep watching."
&#x200B;
Sarah looked visibly panicked. She knelt down, checked the body's pulse and breathed a sigh of relief. She then positioned her hand over the disfigured head and a green light started to come out of it. Miraculously, The deformed head started to get back into shape and the face began to reform itself. It was Jamie.
&#x200B;
James was astounded."Are you sure that this isn't edited?" He was still suspicious.
&#x200B;
"I sweat on my life mate. I am not making this shit up."
&#x200B;
"So now what?"
&#x200B;
"I have a theory but it may sound just as ridiculous. I think that Sarah might be a dragon." | "But, seriously, Nina? The crown of England!?"
Nina eyes me from across the room and gives me her little eye tease-corner look.
I tilt my head until I am lying down and I stare up at the our bedroom ceiling.
"What," Nina protests, giving a little pout. "It was pretty..."
"Nina... " I say. "Nina, yes... so are you."
Nina smiles. I notice the jaggedness of her teeth all the more.
"Nina, even a pretty dragon can't fight off an entire country," I say.
It's clear that the enormity of the situation has yet to hit her.
I get up and sit across from her on the floor.
"Nina," I say. I cringe.
Nina's eyes begin to well.
"Aw, Nina, c'mere."
Before I know it, my dear girl it wetting my sleeve.
"Nina, look," I say. I try to find something to say.
"I- I'll give it back," Nina says.
My eyes widen. Nina is a sweety, makes great banana bread, and does not know how to sing. If there is one thing I've never seen Nina do... not since I met her and not these past two months since I've know her secret...
"Give it back?"
Now I'm worried.
"Nina, are you ok?" I ask.
Nina quiets, looking me in the eye. She tries to push me to the ground. She is strong, abnormally so, even in human form, but I resist.
Nina goes to the mirror.
I swear softly.
"Nina," I say, going after her. She lets me put my arm around her waist. "Nina, I wouldn't mind that," I say.
Nina pulls away and examines her lashes. Ever self-conscious Nina, ever beautiful...
"Ok," says Nina softly. I've clearly scared her with the mention of an army...
"But..." i add.
Nina looks back at me.
"But that's not Gonna help..."
I am very pained.
"Why," say Nina.
I cringe.
"Tell me again how you took it..."
Nina's eyes well again.
"With allot of noise...?" Nina says softly.
I nod.
Nina understands. The word "Experiments" flies through my mind. I can feel it on Nina's mind, too.
"There are more like you, right?" I say hesitantly. "Those... that are... um..." I stop. I was about to say: "Those that are left"
Nina nods. Something in her eye gives it a twitch.
I sigh.
"At least we have some money," I say. "You know, the stuff in the basement..."
Nina nods.
"Let's hide it somewhere," I say. "Anything we can't carry."
Nina nods, then freezes.
"Carry?" Nina says, alarmed.
I give her a questioning look.
"Why are we carrying?" Nina asks.
I look Nina in the eye.
"You don't think I'm going to leave you, do I?" I say.
Nina's eyes well again.
"Really?" she says. I sigh, thinking about my sleeve again.
"No," I say.
"Where are we gonna go?" Nina says.
I shrug.
"Mexico?"
Nina gives me an uncertain look.
"Australia?"
Nina does my cringe expression.
"China?"
Nina's face lights up.
"Yes!" Nina says.
I laugh.
Then I sigh. I kinda liked this house. The creaky musky look form the peeling wallpapered walls has seen better days, but it's got a certain smell.
"Ok," I say.
Nina hugs my arm.
"It'll be exciting," Nina says. Her eyes flash happily.
"Yeah, I know," I say with a sigh.
Nina pecks me on the cheek.
"Nina?" I say as an afterthought.
"Hm?"
"Um..."
I glance at Nina's happy though slightly worried expression as she distractedly fiddles with my moist sleeve.
"After you give it back... um, please don't do this in china," I say.
Nina nods, chastised.
I give her a hug.
"I'll start packing," I say. Nina nods gratefully. | 2020-08-03T09:58:04 | 2020-08-03T09:52:01 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] Your name, age, height, weight, and race all flash across the T.V. screen. You look in horror as you see your dead body being dragged out of a river as a reporter announces that you've been brutally murdered by an infamous serial killer who has been on the run for years. | "31 year old Harry Dentris, died in an unfortunate car crash. Thankfully, he died a swift and painless death." The news reporter announced.
"WHAT!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "I can't believe this, am I even alive right now?" I said. But alas, my curiosity took over and so I continued watching. "They even got my personal info correct, MY PERSONAL INFO!" I thought to myself as I question my very existence.
My friend, Jim, who was staying with me said, "Dude! The news said you died!". "I know!" I replied. "We should contact the police!". And so we went to the nearest police station, all the while getting weird looks from people.
When the policewoman at the counter saw us, she almost fainted. "Uh, excuse me ma'am, but the news said that my friend, Harry was dead!" Jim told her. "Don't worry, we will look into the matter" she told us. Relieved, we returned home.
However after many months, nothing has come out of the investigation. Thus, Jim and I decided that we would start our own. We interviewed, searched the web, tried gathering evidence but it was no use. We weren't getting anywhere.
Just as we lost all hope, the same policewoman called. "Hello sir? We have made a discovery which is of the utmost importance." We rushed to the police station as fast as we could. When we arrived, she directed us into a room. Inside was the head investigator on this matter.
He showed us the screen of his laptop, where there is a bit of text. "After many months of discussion and thorough testing, we have all agreed that this text is genuine." He said. The text read:
"We have kidnapped Harry Dentris (21 years old) and used his DNA to create Clone Alpha. Everything is well, until one night when Harry disappeared. Thankfully, we have wiped his memory of this place the day before and put him in stasis. This operation shall remain a secret.
- 2010"
End.
I hoped you enjoyed it, this is my second prompt so I'm still not really good at writing. | Initial horror was numbed by shock, soon overcome by excitement...
"It had worked !"
The Magician exclaimed with the idea of lungs, a larynx and air. Having spent years experimenting with exercises from ancient texts he developed a "Body of Light." Theoretically, according to the Egyptians at least, a person's consciousness could live on past the body assuming the mind was maintained.
&#x200B;
"It worked, oh -"
&#x200B;
He stopped himself there. Peered around the room suspiciously. OK, no Anubis, no Angel, no Demons or any sort. That neither confirmed nor denied, still, he maintained caution, refraining from taking the "Lord's Name" in vain.
&#x200B;
Calming 'nerves' that no longer connected to anything physical , a simple breathing exercise worked wonderfully. The Magician prepared for this. Closing eyes, imagining a door.
&#x200B;
On it two circles, eight lines, a triangle. Their eyes opened together and it stood before him , etched in purple marble. Of a size and weight beyond any normal mans ability to move, he did so with poise and grace. Stepping through, into a room, he approached a book.
&#x200B;
It contained the spells necessary for the next part of his plan, the next experiment. If successful it would place him in the killers body. From there the rest was simple : get arrested, and thrown into solitary confinement.
&#x200B;
Finally cross the Abyss.
Thought: Reality, on this arcane plane.
The Magician threw back his head with laughter. | 2020-08-01T03:54:43 | 2020-08-01T03:05:49 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] You die and go to Hell only to find out that you're the only person that has ever entered. Satan is clapping. | A bone-jarring impact jolts me awake, followed by a few seconds of searing pain. I try to sit up, but the searing pain keeps me on by back. After a moment, the pain begins to subside and I'm able to sit up and take stock of my situation. When I look down at myself I nearly pass out. What once was a mostly healthy, slightly overweight body is now a mangled purple husk...
"What.... happened?" I say to myself... After a few moments my memory returns... Fuck. Why'd I have to go base jumping from the Petronas Towers while on vacation in Malaysia? It's clear that the impact I heard was ME hitting the ground. Where am I anyway? This clearly isn't Kuala Lumpur.
I struggle to my feet, amazed that my wrecked form can handle that much. Looking around I see nothing but a small room that seems to be carved from bedrock. There is no furnishings of any sort. A faint light glows from the ceiling above, but I can't see any actual source. I spot a door on one wall.
Despite an inexplicable feeling of dread, I am compelled toward the door. I open it and step into a hallway. The walls are transparent, and through them lies everyone's worst nightmare. Fire and brimstone. Lava flowing down into pits. It dawns on me... I'm in HELL.
From the other end of the short hallway, a man steps through the door. He's dressed in ragged black robes that seem to be worn over the top of even more ragged red robes. His beard is black, with a stripe of white running down the middle. The most alarming feature are two rams horns spiraling around each side of his head.... He's... clapping?
"Who are you!?" I demand with alarm.
"Who am I?" he says, "There are some who call me... Tim. But you? You can call me Satan. Or just Stan if you wish. Welcome to hell!"
I snort in amusement. "Really? A Monty Python joke? Do you greet people like this all the time?"
"Uh... well... you could say that. You're the first one to arrive." he admits.
"What? With all the murderers and rapists on earth, *I* am the first one to go to hell? How the fuck does THAT work!? I've never killed anybody, harmed anyone, or stolen anything." I shout
Stan sighs as if defeated. "Do you honestly think God would condemn his children to eternal pain and torture? The only way I'm ALLOWED any souls is through making deals... and after the humiliation of losing a fiddle contest to some snot-nosed kid I haven't really cared to try. My last effort was an attempt at a cyber-contract. All they had to do was pay for a piece of software and I'd own their soul."
The sense of dread gets deeper... I know why I'm here. I know what doomed me to hell.
"Fuck... You mean I'm the only one that paid for WinRar?"
Stan grins at me and says "Like I said. Welcome to Hell."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Interested in feedback. This is probably the second time I've ever written in Writing Prompts... I don't know why I haven't done it more. I always have a blast making this stuff up.
Edit: Holy cow! I didn't really expect this to explode like this. Thanks for the Updoots and all the kind comments! :) I think I'll have to do more of these!
Edit 2: This post has more than doubled my total comment karma..... I'm kinda flabbergasted... Thank you all again!
Edit 3: Wow... Gold... Thank you kind stranger!! | The strangest thing about the afterlife is that it was empty. I let my eyes adjust to... Well, being dead I suppose. Tall rock caverns, lakes of fire? Oh, very Milton. This had to be hell. But, no one was here? Wasn't hell supposed to be other people?
I clambered over some loose rocks and just kept going. Pretty similar landscapes. Rocks. Fire. Darkness. The corridor I was following hit a fork. To one side there was a light. Well obviously I had to follow the light at the end of the tunnel. Yes that's how it goes. Got to get myself out of this... Hell hole. It got brighter and brighter and warmer and warmer. But I didn't mind much. Dead perks! Can't feel anything. The light was a room. Huge throne in the middle. Very tacky. Bones, suffering, screaming faces. The works. Looked like someone trying to be edgy.
"Uh. Hello?"
Satan, and it had to be Satan, he looked the part, turned around. "Hello! " He spoke in a voice that sounded coated with dust.
To my utter surprise, he started manically applauding. Tears in his eyes. "I haven't seen anyone for hundred of years. At least I think it's been hundreds of years. Oh thank God. Someone qualified." He was almost sobbing.
"Yeah... Where is everyone?"
"Oh, I only know what the last one told me. In the beginning it was really hard to get into the pearly gates. Really serious selection criteria, only the best of the best. And actually pretty hard to get into this place you know, priests could basically just sell you forgiveness. So everyone ended up in purgatory. Cluttering it up." I noticed that he started, well, fading a little. But I was too polite to say anything. Not to the first being I'd seen.
"Anyhow the big boss man decided to relax the rules a little. Stop purgatory from being crowded. Sent his kid down to tell everyone. It didn't go so well apparently. Anyhow more people got in. But because of the rules mix up everything was a mess. So due to clerical errors they just went, bugger it, and let everyone through."
I could see the wall through him now. How odd. I wondered if he faded in and out periodically.
"But you see, someone had to be left down here to take care of it. Someone had to qualify. And now you've qualified."
He was fading quicker and quicker.
"Thank you so much. For relieving me of my post. "
It finally hit me "No! Please! Don't leave! What did I do? What did I do?"
"I can't control it. But you see, you did the worst thing possible. "
"What?!"
This sentence was the last thing left of him.
"You aimed to reach higher than humanity. I, Faustus, should have stayed with physics. You tried to become a God."
"You mean every so often a scientist qualifies to become Satan?"
But he was gone. And now I am alone, only, not quite. The walls are filled with enough knowledge to make humans Gods. If only they knew.
| 2017-06-22T06:21:45 | 2017-06-22T04:08:59 | 4,092 | 184 |
[WP] Everybody on earth controls an element(wood,rubber,etc). Your dad controls steel while your mother controls plastic, but out of all the millions of elements you could’ve gotten you got time. You feel all mighty for a few years until at the age of 14 your sister was born. Her element? Space. | Dear Diary:
So, my sister was born and she controls space. I control time. I don't really mind, due to my control of time being less... physical and more conceptual. When the element assigned to you is both a concept and a physic, you can control either the physic's version or the concept. I love my sister, I really do, and I think I'm going to teach her everything I know. Because now basically we both control time. I control the concept of time as in History, I can stop it, fast-forward it, make it go backwards, set points in time to travel to and travel directly to points in time. My sister controls space, but thanks to stuff on her control like speed, gravity, stellar mass or black holes, she can control the physical time, she can bend time as in time-perception. She can make the Earth spin quicker, making us think that time has been accelerated due to the different position of the sun in the sky. I will teach her everything I know about this stuff, so, together, we can be unstoppable. | [poem]
i called the light
and she sWallowed up the darkness
inhalE
exahle
a moment set in motion
spAce
time
now intRinsically linked
red shift
bluE shift
the sequence and the dIstance
related
an uNbreakable bond
the universe is ours For the takIng
this entaNgled world of days and nIghts
waves
parTicles
let's go have somE fun | 2022-11-12T06:58:03 | 2022-11-12T03:48:04 | 52 | 17 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | "Can I use my mason's tools to help fix the northern wall?" Jim asked desperately.
"Well, considering you still count as Poisoned, you would have disadvantage on the roll, so roll twice and take the lower," Antonio replied.
"A 16 and a... 4... dang it," Jim looked over his character sheet dejected. "William, do you think you can get any of your hirelings to help?"
William looked over all the minis arranged on the walls of the plastic fort. "I don't think so, they are busy dealing with all the low level attackers on the right. I can't because if I get hit, I won't be able to keep up my morale buff. If only Sam could have made it tonight, he could have dealt with those big hitters first."
Antonio looked at his turn order. "Jim, I am going to need a Constitution saving throw from you at the end of your turn."
"I got a 6."
"Ok, you take 1d8 poison damage for... 5 hp. Anything else you would like to do?"
"I guess I will draw my knives to dual wield and hold my action to attack anyone who comes through this door." Jim slunk a little deeper into his chair and took a big gulp of his whiskey.
"Ok, the forces of the Republic are up. They are going to add a few more of the infantry guys to this side of the board," Antonio strained, as he reached over the board and placed a handful of skirmishers on the right hand side. "David and William, you can see in the distance, the enemy general has taken the field. He sits atop a white horse, and he is decked out in gear. I am talking huge hat with the feathered plume, medals, saber, the works. On the northern wall, the forces are going to... be able to climb the wall and begin entering the fort." Antonio moved several of the miniatures over the plastic wall, carefully counting out the spaces moved. "Ok, then, David, you are up sir!"
"You said I could see the General over there and I can see these guys climbing the walls?"
"Yes."
"Ok, then I would like to first use my Inspiring Leader feat to heal all my allies within 6 squares for 4 hp."
"Ok," Antonio said as he made notes of the damage.
"Then I would like to charge in!"
William looked up from his plans, immediately frustrated, "Damn it David, you are going to get us all TPKed!"
Antonio smiled, "Ok David, how do you want to do this?"
David grinned. "I want to lift my rifle up like a club, charge in, and yell, "REMEMBER THE ALAMO!" | "Okay, with the guards on the wrong car, he's got a few less people protecting him!"
"Rad. He's approaching the Mostar café. Čabrinović, you were next in initiative because Mehmedbašić fell asleep and Ilić had to go home for work tomorrow, so your turn."
"I activate and throw my bomb."
"That's. a... mis- oh for fucks sakes."
"What?"
"Your Stupid Lucky feat. In the event of a miss, the attack has a chance of happening to another enemy adjacent. I should have placed the cars a bit apart from each other. Fuck. Okay, the bomb rolls under the car, and blows up the car BEHIND your target. Franz is spooked, bloodied, but has radioed guards to get you."
"Can I swallow my cyanide pill? Also use my move action to jump into the river"
"You can try. Roll a d20. I'm not sure what check it'll be so let's say DC 10"
"9"
"You fail to be poisoned... Actually, that was a decent roll, and as I hadn't planned for it... And no, Stupid Lucky doesn't apply if you're attacking yourself... You take the cyanide capsule. You're not dying, but you feel queasy. The river water isn't helping. It's the Archduke's turn now, so he reaches the nearby mayor, and complains loudly before his wife tells him to chillax. Let's roll his next route and... Oh for fucks sakes, Lojka doesn't know about the change in plans."
"Can I just shoot him on his way back?"
"sure, princip."
"Crit."
"Fuck. Roll to confirm crit."
"There."
"Fuck. Okay, so you hit him (and his wife) in the jugular veins. The Archduke Franz Ferdinand remains upright, the Count asks him if he's alright, to which the Archduke replies "Sophie, Sophie! Don't die! Live for our children!" followed by six or seven utterances of "It is nothing.'. Congratulations, gentlemen. You have just started the First World War."
| 2018-05-29T08:14:51 | 2018-05-29T07:22:47 | 104 | 30 |
[WP] For your birthday, you wished "I wish everybody has their own theme music" because you know wishes are fake anyway. But you wake up the next day, and yours isn't quite what you expected. | >Katie: Hey Chris. Sorry, but I’m not interested in being more than friends. I have a boyfriend already. I’m flattered, though, thank you.
The phone shook in my hands, ravaged by the earthquake of my furious thumbs, as I told that bitch what’s what. Not interested in being more than friends? After everything I’d done for her?
>Me: Wow, fuck you. I thought you were different than the other whores out there, but no. You go for the typical idiot douchebag who plays Call of Duty and football.
>Me: You’re fat, anyway.
Yes, that would show her. She’d learn from her mistakes the hard way: with tough love, because sometimes that’s what it takes. Negative reinforcement, like smacking a dog that won’t stop jumping on people.
>Katie: Wow, Chris. That’s fucked up. I guess we were never really friends, after all. Have a nice life. Oh, and happy birthday. I hope you spend it alone.
>Me: Begone, thot.
With a chuckle, I tucked my phone away and returned to the cake set before me. Mother had bought red velvet, with cream cheese icing- my absolute favorite. I could devour the entire thing, and I probably would throughout the day after how Katie had treated me. Stupid bitch. What’s the point of being nice to anyone, these days? You just get taken advantage of.
A song played in my head.
*You know, I wish that I had Jessie's girl
I wish that I had Jessie's girl
Where can I find a woman like that?*
I understood Rick Springfield a lot more in that moment. Jessie's girl was probably some douchebag meathead that would later regret passing up on a bona fide rockstar. That got me thinking- how cool would it be to have a theme song playing as I went around, living life? Maybe *Behind Blue Eyes* would fill the room as I kick that Chad’s ass and reject Katie when she tries to chase after me.
“Make a wish, sweetie,” my mother said, voice sweeter than frosting. I smiled, closed my eyes, and blew the twenty-seven candles out aggresively. I knew exactly what to wish for.
As tendrils of smoke rose from them, something faded into my headspace. A melodic, familiar sound.
“You playing some music, Mom?” I asked, raising my voice to carry over the noise. It grew louder.
“No, honey.”
I shook my head, digging fingers into my ears. The sound wouldn’t get any quieter.
*When you were here before
Couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry*
Stumbling, crashing, I fell from my chair, knocking aside the table and its delicious contents. There was no time to mourn the cake, however. The song grew so loud that my mother’s concerned face was nothing more than a housing for silent, flapping lips. Not a word broke through.
*I want you to notice
When I'm not around
You're so fuckin' special
I wish I was special*
The world spun. I vomited onto my own lap, crumpled up on the floor, and cried as the edges of my vision blurred. Each word was like a punch to the eardrums; each strum of the guitar like being mentally flossed with barbed wire.
*But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.*
*I don't belong here.*
----
*/r/resonatingfury* | 'I got out the door just in time, and I headed down the four-o-five. I had to meet my new boss by 8 a.m. The phone rings while in the car, and I find out that the wife is working hard and she'll run late tonight again.'
No that's not right. I don't have a wife, and I certainly don't have a job. Why am I saying these things outloud, and to whom? The hallway is empty, and I'm about to leave my apartment complex, but a sudden bout of verbal diarrhoea is making me think I've gone mad. A door further down the hall opens and my neighbour Jessica steps out
'Yes, no, maybe,' She says and clasps a hand over her mouth. Her cheeks glow red, and she can't help but continue. 'I don't know. Can you repeat the question?'
I tried to say *What are you on about?* but something else came out. 'Well. I know what I've been told, you got to work to feed the soul.'
Jessica looked at me with the same confusion that I wore. 'You're not the boss of me now,' The words burst through the cracks of her fingers, and she kept repeating them.
'But I can't do this all on my own.'
'Life is unfair.'
'No, I know, I'm no Superman,' I say.
Jessica starts walking away from me, down the hall but her voice finds its way back. 'Ever since we've moved in It's been empty.'
I walk towards the sound, following her and hoping to catch the same elevator. As I move, I skip steps and hurry and as I speed up, so does the involuntary words. 'You've got your love online you think you're doing fine but you're just plugged into the wall.'
'Why I. Why I'm in this room. There is no point explaining,' Jessica says looking around the elevator.
I'm out of breath. The pace, words, It's all combining into a blur of sound. 'I'm no Superman.'
'And you're not so big.'
I made it to the elevator in time, catching the closing door with foot and Jessica shook her head.
'Life is a test.'
I say. 'You've crossed the finish line. Won the race but lost your mind. Was it worth it after all?'
'Yes, no, maybe. I don't know. Can you repeat the question?'
None of this is making sense. Why am I saying the things I'm saying? Why is *she* saying the things she is saying? I think back to last night, the party. I was practically shovelling pills into my mouth... and the projector... it lit one wall of the living room... it was playing... playing... reruns all night. It made for one mind-bending experience. And wasn't it Tommy who suggested I wish everyone had their own theme tune?
A slap, open palmed and visceral, connected with my left cheek. It sent me reeling. The vision in my left eye blurred with a mixture of delirium and water.
'Why the fuck are you chasing after me and singing?'
'I'm no Superman,' I say with a shrug.
---
/r/WrittenThought | 2019-03-27T07:30:22 | 2019-03-27T07:19:58 | 143 | 26 |
[WP] God has tried and failed to end the world multiple times since 2015. It's pretty clear something made him indecisive. | Pestilence sighed and a green cloud misted from his beaked mask. He looked upon the thieves, the liars, the adulterers all cowering in their houses from his plague and he clenched his fist. He knew it was only a matter of time before the Old Man ordered relentment. Again.
Next to him, a slender woman smothered a chuckle. Dainty hands covered withered lips as her pale skin stretched tight over sharp cheekbones. "Oh Pestie. First time? Father's been axing my famines for centuries. Don't worry you won't starve."
War slammed his sword on the table. "At least you still get work in Africa. I blow up planes, I blow up tankers, I get fear, hatred, creeping into men's hearts. And bam. Ordered to pull out. No one appreciates the art of war."
With heavy shoulders, Pestilence shook his head. "Do we at least know who it is this time?"
"A little girl named Isabelle," Death said with a voice like winter wind seeping through crags. "A little girl praying for her mum. A little girl who will lose faith and be doomed to Hell by a drunk driver in 6 years. But for now she clings to God, and for now God listens."
Pestilence raised an open palm in indignance. "They're all maggots in the end. Why wait? We ought to just-"
"Next month it is a man named Albert," Death continued, "A morose man who runs from his problems and drinks away his family. But a man who will plea to God for a second chance, a plea which will be granted. Next year Albert will squander it and die in a bender."
Around the table, War's grit his teeth and his knuckles whitened over grip of his sword. The green mist that oozed out of Pestilence's mask thickened like a storm cloud. And Famine's face remained upturned and poised but her eyes burned.
Death looked at each in turn. "But in the month after that, there will be an old woman named Martha. Her whole life she lived without a care, chasing the delights of the world. But our brother Pestilence's plague will make the world less than delightful, and she will hold her grandchildren and cry out. She will continue to cling to God on her deathbed while surrounded by those grandchildren, hale and hearty."
War grunted and swung his sword on his shoulder. "Well if the commander orders it... I guess we have no choice."
Famine fanned her fingers, and while keeping her gaze on her ivory nails she said "Yes, I suppose Father knows best. The more souls saved the better of course."
Pestilence looked at his feet. He was accustomed to his work bringing ruin to men and to say it brought salvation was strange. But if one could see behind the black tinted holes of his mask, they would perhaps see a flicker of pride. | "Just following orders"
I'd watched the humans long enough, I knew they had a term for people who used that as a defence.
I'd watched these humans for millennia.
I'd seen their saints and their sinners, their wars and their aid missions. Read their [stories](https://en.m.wikiquote.org/wiki/Good_Omens)...
>And just when you'd think they were more malignant than ever Hell could be, they could occasionally show more grace than Heaven ever dreamed of. Often the same individual was involved. It was this free-will thing, of course.
Angels... angels lacked quite that spark.
We couldn't defy a direct order from the very highest authority, we didn't have the will to directly go against the chain of command... we're not made that way... not since... that one time.
I had my orders. I couldn't just *not* carry them out.
A list of plagues to be inflicted on the humans, to whittle them down and leave the world empty for some other creation. But I didn't want them to be lost to the universe.
But... there was one way... maybe.... my orders said nothing about the order of the plagues we were to inflict.
A plagues of hail, fire, locusts, boils, floods, darkness, death, blood, lice, frogs and flies.
And if I got it just right.... first the [plague of locusts](https://www.jpost.com/International/Swarms-of-locusts-expected-to-plague-Africa-and-Middle-East-UN-group-says-621384), then [kill the locusts with the hail](https://www.reddit.com/r/WTF/comments/f7g85v/hailstones_causing_locusts_to_drop_dead_out_of/), the plague of death... the last time... the last time it targeted firstborn children but my orders said nothing about who it had to target... then by the time the plague of boils strike everyone will have isolated themselves restricting the spread.
With most people inside, then the plagues of lice and flies quickly followed by the plague of frogs to eat them.
The plague of locusts will have damaged crops so then I can send the plague of blood and floods to fertilise the farmland and wash away most of the frogs.
The plague of fire, slowly heating the world, then the plague of darkness, a cloud of dust in between the world and the sun to cool it...
I couldn't defy my orders.... but even angels have a certain leeway... | 2020-03-20T07:40:22 | 2020-03-20T07:35:29 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] You're sat alone, with a glass of wine in hand, and decide to jokingly toast the Greek God Dionysus. You did not expect him to appear before you in human form, create two bottles of wine, and take a seat next to you. | The Maenad
"Fuck you, David; it wasn't my fault." I mumbled as I finished the second bottle of the evening. "Fuck you. Fuck you and your whole family and fuck your little whore too. It wasn't my fault."
Angry as I was at the time, I actually felt sorry for Emily. She didn't know what a piece of shit my ex-husband was, taken in as she had been by his crocodile tears at the death of our child. As if David had ever really felt a thing for the child he hadn't even bothered to come see until after I was released from the hospital. Too "busy" with business deals and sliding his hands under the skirt of any woman willing to let him or afraid to deny him to even check on us let alone be present for the birth of his heir.
He hadn't had so much as a tear in his eye when he had dragged Zoe from the pool and he'd been cold the whole time preparations were made for her funeral. The only emotion he had showed was when he had turned on me at her graveside and accused me of orchestrating her death. As if I, sick and asleep in my bed on the opposite side of the house while he worked in his home office whose window overlooked the pool, could have made my way to the pool any quicker than him. As if I could have made some difference in the outcome.
"Fuck you." I say again, boiling in my anger, resentment and sorrow.
I pour myself the start of the third bottle, hand wavering, and raise the glass to the bust of Dionysus my mother had gifted me shortly before her death.
"Here's to you, the only man who has never hurt me."
I throw it back and try not to think at all. I put my glass down and as I stare into it's empty depths a hand crosses my vision to refill it.
"Thank you." I mumble reaching for it again.
I glance at my guest as he takes his seat next to me. I take in the overly long, curly, black hair. The not quite androgynous features. His body shows both the softness inherent in one who has never lacked for nutrition and the strength of one who has worked hard. His hands are calloused, but oddly so. It does not seem odd or an imposition as he makes himself at home, his fustanella and a length of fabric draped about his shoulders like a cape seemingly his only garment.
I finish my glass then hold it out to him, imperious as a queen, and he smiles at me. I smile back, the pain in my heart momentarily eased.
It is companionable, the near silence between us. I almost feel less drunk as the night goes on, though time and memory seem to slip away too easily, avoiding my attempts to catch them for later examination.
I know we spoke at length about the words I had used to summon him and the meaning behind them, though I can't recall what was said. I know we danced a wild dance so unlike anything I had experienced since before my marriage. Possibly unlike anything I had ever danced before.
I remember holding his hand as we ran through unknown wilderness and I remember the women who ran with us, beautiful and hideous in their madness. I remember the animals that were unlucky enough to meet us.
I do not remember seeing my ex-husband. I do not remember Emily or their baby.
I remember waking up here, in this hospital, strapped down to a bed as a nurse cleans the blood from my face. The flesh from my teeth. I scream at her, wordlessly, and one of my hands comes free. I reach for her face with fingers curled to hurt her and I miss.
As I exhaust myself fighting I cast my gaze past the orderlies that have been brought in to tie me down again and he is there, in the corner of the room. He toasts me once and I can feel my mouth filling with blood-warm wine.
I swallow and the madness consumes me once more. | **Friday Night**
Catherine caught her breath, leaning on the wall next to the Yakuza boss's door. She was looking forward to a quiet weekend when this was over.
She glanced down the hallway, quickly taking count and assessing her entry.
*Two missed shots. Eighteen lethal. Ninety percent accuracy. Six rounds left in the cartridge, one in the chamber.*
Counting kept her calm. It helped her think, and she needed to think fast.
*Too loud. Boss will have heard. If I break in, I'll have only fourteen seconds. Probably six guards. Not all in eye line. Not enough time.*
Catherine let out a quick sigh, and reached into the pocket of her candy-red coat. She held her hand to her forehead, swore under her breath, and rhythmically unscrewed the flask. Brushing her curly hair aside she mouthed a few words and gulped down some wine.
*"To Dionysus."*
She didn't wait for an answer. She knocked on the door, waited three seconds, turned the knob, and walked in.
The room was grand, with traditional accents. Tatami flooring, contrasted with western style pillars, painted in a pale green. Catherine's eyes darted about, quickly assessing the scene. Four guards waited, standing near the walls of the room. Basic sidearms.
One older, time worn man in traditional robes sat stiffly, while an attendant refilled his tea.
A bright flash erupted, a crackle of thunder, and...
A heavy set middle aged man fell through the roof and crashed into the ground, cracking a layer of tatami rush-grass. He lay on the ground wearing an ill-fitting leather jacket with a broken zipper, sported greased back hair, and hangover sunglasses. Distressingly, it began to smell like an Abercrombie outlet.
*"Cat! Good to see you! You never call anymore! Drinks tonight?"*
The guards tried to make sense of the scene. Catherine simply took cover under a table and started shooting.
Two down. One shot missed. *"Kind of busy!"*
Dio sprang up with a dramatic roll and started to pull wine bottles out of his sleeves. The surprised guards opened fire, bullets plinking into him, causing a rich spray of cabernet to mist the air. Annoyed, he threw one bottle after another at the guards. A few hit, but most just threw wet broken glass everywhere. Catherine fired at the distracted men.
*How many bottles does he have anyway? It bugged her.*
She finished taking care of the guards, then shot Dio once out of annoyance. Wine sprayed out of his chest like a garden hose. Dio futily tried to zip up his jacket to try and make it stop. It didn't. Shrugging, he stuffed the hole with the cork from a broken bottle he was holding.
*"How about this weekend? We hit up a bar?"*
The Yakuza boss's guards were all dead. He stood up, holding his hands behind his back, ready to be handcuffed. His wrists were a size four. Catherine bound him and started to walk him out of the building.
*"Fine, fine, but only one drink this time. You always get too plastered."*
On the way out, she almost slipped on a wet glass shard, and instinctively swore.
*"Jesus! Who put that--"*
She paused mid-sentence, covered her mouth with her hand and held her breath for a moment.
It was no use. Catherine sighed as the scent of frankincense filled the air, ruining her weekend. | 2020-11-08T13:57:12 | 2020-11-08T13:42:12 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] We may not be the strongest, but our immune systems are legendary among alien races. There is a saying: "if it makes a human sick it will kill you." | "Wait until they get that specialist down here. The whole place is contaminated," Garth said, as he was putting up the warning signs and taping off the area. He wore the required safety equipment on all his 8 tentacles, and he moved with a brisk efficiency.
"What do you mean? What happened?" asked Thrace. He was careful to not come any closer. His more leggy near mammalian form looked ready to spring backwards. His elongated ears popped up in alarm.
"There is a biocontaminant in the science lab. It would be too hazardous for anyone to go in, but they just hired on a specialist that is especially immune to most biocontaminants," Garth explained.
"Like a hazmat specialist?" Thrace asked.
"No. Like a human. You'll see, she's on her way down now," Garth said with a snort.
True to his word, there was the sound of something coming down the hall. Step, step, thud. Step, Step, thud.
Slowly, an elderly human woman came into view.
Thrace's ears swiveled in her direction, and he looked incredulously back at Garth and hissed, "That human is ancient!"
Garth tried to organize his tentacles in a gesture Thrace would understand to silence him, but it was too late.
"I may be ancient, but my hearings still good," she said with a laugh as she slowly moved down the hallway. She took two steps in her comfortable shoes, then moved her walker forward with a soft thud, then took two more steps.
Garth waved a tentacle and said, "We have detected high levels of salmonella contamination in the lab. We think it's localized to one of the benches, Deb."
"Alright, alright," the elderly woman said.
"How are you sending an elderly being in there with those levels of contamination?" Thrace said, almost shaking with concern.
"Oh, don't worry about me, honey," Deb said. She patted the tall slender creature as she walked by. "I took this job for the benefits. I get paid very well to live here on the station, and every once in a while when the scientists leave something out, I go and put it away."
Deb made her way past Garth, who curiously held the door for her, as she slowly made her way into the science lab.
Inside, the elderly woman could see exactly what was tripping the sensors. An earth chicken was set out for study, and had been left out on the counter for some reason.
Deb reached down into her walker bag, and pulled out a bright neon green hazmat containment bag, and deftly put the small tray inside it, sealing the bag. She then pulled out a sensor and looked to see if that took care of it. It tweeted an all clear.
"Welp, that takes care of that. It's all sealed here for disposal. I'm gonna head back to my apartment and watch my shows," she said. She waved the sensor over the newly sealed dead chicken to ensure it was safe for Garth, and she slowly made her way back out.
Garth came in with his own sensor device, and waved his tentacles in happiness, "Thanks Deb. We really appreciate it!"
After the elderly human had made her way out, Thrace poked his head in, "I don't understand. You paid that human to just put something in a bag?"
"Yes. She's worth ten times her salary. Without her, we'd have to shut down the lab, get a fully suited up decontamination team in, and if any of us hadn't been suited up, that would probably had killed us," Garth said emphatically.
"She's old, but nice. She makes us cookies. She also is practically unkillable. Human immune systems are amazing, and the older they are, the more they've been exposed to. That means she's even more immune, I guess. I'm not a scientist," Garth explained.
Thrace just turned to look down the hall to watch the elderly human go, "I guess they just don't look that unkillable." | ***THE EXODUS (my first try at a writing prompt, hopefully this is decent)***
Within the Outer Rim of our Galaxy exists the planet called Nagilum. Human expansion throughout space had been progressing rapidly throughout the 2300s but inexplicably ceased after having reached the said planet. When making the first contact, the humans aboard their technologically inferior starship gladly exchanged biological scans of their race to the aliens in exchange for detailed star-maps of the Beta Quadrant. Several years later, the aliens also known as Negallians, allowed the humans to establish a colony on their world.
Dran, the leader of the colony-- set out to explore the planet and the Negallians. He noticed a large number of cemeteries and illness spread throughout the more poor areas of the planet, but no hospitals. He marveled at how such a technologically superior species could be so naive in caring for their own. The months he spent exploring the planet made him uneasy, as he was not only observing the aliens, they were observing him. Occasionally, a Negallian would "accidentally" run into him, or pull a strand of his hair and run off with it. What finally made him return to the colony in a rush was when he overheard the bone-chilling statement of "**if it makes a human sick it will kill you".** Returning to the colony, Dran finds that the outer shield had been breached and that every human within the walls had been taken away en masse. So begins the **exodus**.
Dran was immediately taken by a large explosion in the sky. He looked up to see their starship engulfed in flames, along with all hope of escape. He along with the rest of the humans were taken into a facility and experimented on ceaselessly, until death. When the aliens exhausted their limited supply of humans, they decided to pick from the source of the fruit. The invasion of Earth was quick and bloody, with humanity putting up a good fight... but inevitably losing to the advanced weaponry and shielding of the Negallians. Planet Nagilum had discovered that humanity had an immune system that regenerated without outside stimulation, and determined that total blood transfusion would cure their race of all illness and plague.
Earth was transformed into a massive farm for human reproduction. Individual liberty was stripped in favor of reproductive capability. To prevent further rebellious outbursts that had severely reduced the efficiency of their operation, the Negallians used new machines to put each human into a stasis-pod which projected a false reality, making humans believe that their world had continued on as if nothing had occurred. As predicted, the human blood cured the Negallians of their ailments as if it was a miracle drug. Within 50 years, Nagilum was a thriving planet with a massive population boom as the human blood integrated itself into the Negallian body.
That was until of course, the immune cells evolved. The first case began on an Earth occupying vessel. The patient was dead within hours, and they would not be the only one. Throughout the entire Negallian society, a plague swept. Killing every person it inhabited without fail. Doctors and scientists were astounded, as the human blood should have wiped out any disease. That was until they began to realize that they had overlooked something... rejection. The immune cells had begun to reject the Negallian body, inevitably killing anyone who had gone through the transfusion. The entirety of Nagilum had gone through the transfusion. The cure became the plague, and as the last Negallians silently wept in their graves, the machines continued the human-farming operation with no command to cease. Thus beginning a new age of Artificial Intelligence. If only the Negallians had taken the blue pill... | 2021-02-03T14:57:00 | 2021-02-03T13:44:20 | 2,978 | 420 |
[WP] You can teleport your SO anywhere instantly, and your SO can do the same for you. One day you get in an arguement. | "Where is she?"
Its been four days since I've seen my wife. And I'm worried sick. Not the "I hope she didnt get into an accident" kinda sick. But I would describe it more of an "I hope this isn't going to be the end of our relationship" kinda sick.
&#x200B;
I sit down on the couch in our living room and look around. Everything just reminds me of her. The frames on the wall. The plastic edge that's still on our television since the day we bought it because she thought "it looks like its still new". Even though our TV only gives standard HD and everything nowadays has 8K or something.. I'm not that tech-minded.
&#x200B;
I let out a deep sigh as I lean back and now stare at the ceiling. White, a single string of spider silk is hanging on our lamp. Briefly I forget about the issues between my wife and I and I wonder: "Where's the spider?"
&#x200B;
This has to end... I decide I'm not gonna keep waiting and start preparing the perfect make-up dinner. So I can teleport her back to me and suprise her with her favorite dish, which is spaghetti bolognese.. It also happens to be my favorite dish, so I got that going for me. I think with some wine and hopefully a good conversation where I can apologise that we finally can leave this argument behind us.
&#x200B;
I clean the house as quickly as I can. Set the table, go groceryshopping.. Even though I'm busy with all of the preparations I cant help but wonder if it'll be enough to make amends. I really did screw up though.
&#x200B;
When I set everything ready I decide to look at the clock. Its nearly seven in the evening. Well its now or never.
&#x200B;
Just as I set my mind on her and decide to teleport her infront of me I feel engulfed in the most known, warmest and most comforting feeling. I blink and as I open my eyes I find myself on the beach. I remember this place, this is where we said yes to each other.
&#x200B;
As I turn around I see my wife, behind her a table with two plates of spaghetti. I smile as some tears start forming..
"I missed you" | When people first discovered this power, so many people ended up in the Sahara or on Everest that they started leaving survival packs scattered in the most recognizable places. It's considered gauche now, to strand your SO against their will in a remote location; like letting the air out of their tires, or threatening to hit them.
I love my baby, I do, but sometimes she's so vindictive that it hurts. Smart too.
I'm just taking a deep breath, sitting on my old bed and staring at the old 80s band pictures on the wall, when the door opens. My mom is already on the phone and she doesn't look pleased.
"What's this is hear about you not doing the dishes? I raised you better than that! Margaret here is at the end of her rope carrying the weight of the house, and you're not helping!" She bites out at me.
"It was just some dishes..." I protest feebly. My mom isn't one to listen to reason when her dander is up. And Marge, god love her, *excels* at doing just that.
"Uh huh. Well, since you've decided to act like a child, we both think maybe you should just stay here until you remember what being a grown-ass man means!" My mother parrots. I can't hear Marge on the phone, but whatever she said, it must've been good. Mom slams the door again and flounces back downstairs.
I lean back and fumble for my old CDs. My disc drive's been getting a lot more use here lately, ever since Marge got pregnant. I'll listen to an album, take a nap - she usually brings me home before dinner, anyway. Breakfast at worst, but I don't like her being alone that long with the baby. So if she waits too long, I'll just bring her here with me.
And then tell my mother that I'm worried Marge hasn't been eating enough. I can be mean too, you know. | 2019-03-23T09:09:52 | 2019-03-23T07:56:09 | 199 | 28 |
[WP] You get your orders through the mail. They're fairly mundane: "Walk the dog at 6 PM on Wednesday." "Deliver a dozen eggs to this address." Sometimes, months or even years later, something happens and you can almost see what you've been doing. | The pay is great, even if the work is mundane.
I don't know who I work for. I don't know why I do what I do. I just do it, and I don't ask questions.
I get my tasks through the mail, a couple of weeks before they're set to happen. They can range from taking a dog for a walk, to delivering eggs, to painting someone's fence. All freelance kind of work, and that's exactly what I have to tell people I am.
When I first got this job, I was told that my work might seem odd but was assured it was all for a good purpose. I had to sign a Non Disclosure Agreement, but not the typical kind. I can tell people what I do, it's encouraged, even. I suppose that makes things less suspicious - If someone saw me delivering something and asked why, I can't exactly just pretend I didn't do it. I just am not allowed to tell anyone how little I know about what I do.
It's been 4 years of this, and every time, things are set up for me to carry out the task. If I need to walk a dog, the house owner is expecting me when I knock on the door. If I need to buy eggs, the exact amount for the eggs I need has already been deposited into my bank. If I need to paint a fence, half the fence has already been painted for me, and the paint is left right next to it.
If I ever have issues with a task, I have a number to call, but I've never had to call it. Everything has always gone exactly as it's described to me in the mail. At least, that was true until recently.
I often notice strange things that almost seem to piece together, but not quite.
On several occasions, I have returned from dog walks to find the house unlocked but empty. However, on all of these occasions, the letter in the mail had explicitly stated to leave the dog in the house **no matter what**, so that is what I do.
Anytime I specifically have to deliver eggs, the cashier says something along the lines of "Oh, sorry that these eggs are broken. Let me get you another one." I assume that they have a specific set of eggs for me to deliver. Why they would do this, I'm not sure - Perhaps they contain a message?
Recently, though, things have changed. I turned up to a standard fence painting job - There are only 7 different jobs I've ever been given, it's far and few between that a job isn't a seemingly exact copy of an old one. But this time things weren't left how they usually are. Half the fence was painted, as usual, but on the bare part of the fence, a word had been written using the white paint.
"Beware"
It was written in small writing, yet the feeling it invoked within me was deep. The paint was still wet, so it had only been written in the last few hours. Despite the terrible feeling of dread I had, I called the number.
*Ring... Ring... Ring...*
3 rings, and someone picked up. But they didn't speak, or say anything. So I spoke first.
"I just turned up to my job, the uhm, the fence painting one. Someone has written 'Beware' on the fence."
A man's voice spoke up. I couldn't quite decern the accent, but it wasn't local. "Anything else?"
"No", I said, a little shakily.
"Thank you. It'll be dealt with."
Then he hung up.
I started painting the fence, when a black car pulled up next to me. A woman rolled down the window, and told me to get in. Normally, of course, I wouldn't, but it was safe to assume that this related to my job. So, given the circumstances, I got in.
I started to panic when she wouldn't respond to me, no matter how much I asked where we were going. After a few minutes, we pulled up outside of my house.
"You know the rules," she said, "not a word to anyone."
I got out, and as soon as my door was closed, she was driving off again.
That was 3 weeks ago. I haven't had any jobs through the post since. The ones I still had remaining weren't set up for me when I arrived at the locations - No paint, no money deposited for deliveries, nothing. This is the first time I've ever gone more than a few days without a new letter through the post. I'm not being paid.
Yesterday, I called up the number again.
"The number you are dialing is not in service."
I don't know how to contact these people. But I know that they'll come for me if I break my NDA. So, that's why I'm writing this.
I want to get to the bottom of this. | His home was mostly empty, save for a cot and some amenities. There was an electric kettle, and a folding chair, and some cards for solitaire, but not much more. It was meant to be deserted at a moment's notice, if need be, not a trace of his existence left behind.
Three weeks it had been since he moved into this unassuming neighborhood. And for three weeks he had waited, eating packets of pasta and watching the mailbox through his binoculars. His next assignment would arrive when the agency deemed it time. Until then, he entertained himself by cleaning his rifles, sharpening his knives, and sudoku.
Every day he watched the mail lady walk by the box at the end of the driveway, and every day she ignored it. But one day a second carrier walked down the street--a man this time, with sunglasses--and he dropped a box on the doormat. He rang the bell five times--two short, two long, another short--and left just as he came. The man in the house waited until dark to open the door and bring the package in.
He opened the box with a hunting knife strapped inside his sock. Inside were about 80 letters, each marked with a different month and year. A note on top instructed him that this would be his longest assignment, but it was of the utmost importance, as was secrecy. Not even *he* could know.
Dutifully, he restrained himself from opening all of them at once. His training made such obedience thoughtless. Instead, he rummaged for the one marked with the current month, and opened up his first assignment:
>Get yourself something nice.
And out fell a $200 gift card to *Bed Bath and Beyond*.
---
Every order after was just as confounding.
>In today's paper, there is a help-wanted ad for a party clown. Take the job. Work as many hours as they have. Work hard, and be a good coworker. Don't let them suspect you are any different than they are. Work your way up the ladder as high as you can.
,
>You are no longer "Barracuda". Your new codename is "Phil".
,
>With every paycheck, divide the money across the expenses of the house appropriately. Don't let the IRS or the utility providers suspect there's anything out of the ordinary about you or your "home". Use any remaining money to furnish your base with inconspicuous decor. Maintain the disguise, inside and out.
,
>Meet the neighbors. Interact with the local businesses. Establish yourself. Your employment will introduce you to many of the local families. Earn their trust.
A month in, and this job was proving to be his most extensive. But 6 months in is when it *really* evolved to a new level. The note that started it all read:
>Find a partner, a local. Romance them if you must, but don't tell them the truth. Make sure to pick an individual that you enjoy and trust, because you will be working with them for an extended period.
It took only two weeks to fulfill this one. As it happened, he had already started to...erm...infiltrate a woman who worked at the local butchery. Everything thereafter came naturally:
>Once trust is ensured, move in together.
,
>For appearances, marry your partner.
,
>Grow your own recruits. Three impressionable children should do. Get to work with your partner.
,
>Love these children. Earn their trust. Let them see you almost as a father figure.
On and on it went, for years. So long it lasted, he forgot all about the weapons he had hidden under the floorboards beneath the living room loveseat. Until he arrived at the last letter in the box.
By now he had three kids, two promotions at the clowning agency, one loving wife, an honored position in the neighborhood watch, and an unexpected love of lawn badminton, which he indulged with his wife and his work friends every weekend.
When he picked up the last letter, he ripped it open, surprised by the sadness inside him. But not nearly as surprised as when he read:
>!BE SURE TO DRINK YOUR OVALTINE!< 🕵️♂️ | 2022-11-21T09:02:22 | 2022-11-21T08:30:06 | 646 | 148 |
[WP] The galaxy was amused when they learned that Humans have Rules of War. They were less amused when they figured out what Humans do in war when there are no rules. | The great Warchief, the leader of the most powerful fleet in known space, waited patiently on his ship orbiting a planet. It had gone two years since his ships conquered the human settlement at the border of the empire he served.
The victory was swift. The few human military vessels was defeated in matter of minutes. Their beam weapons was no match for the empires shield technology.
The human had asked to send medical and evacuation ships to rescue the surviving crew and take the colonist home.
The great Warchief had said that he would allow it and that the ships would be protected.
He had lied. The medical and evacuation ships was left burning in space as a warning to the humans. After that, he had completely wiped out the human settlement, executed most of them and sent a few as pets to the royal court.
The humans had been upset and accused him for breaking the ”rules of war”.
He had laughed.
”Rules of war? There’s no rules of war!” he said to the human ruler, still laughing.
The Warchief had seen how the human rulers face changed. From fear, to anger to determination. It had made him somewhat uncomfortable, but with the mightiest fleet behind him he choose to ignore it.
The Warchiefs empire had taken up on itself to give newcomers to the galactic stage a slap on the wrist. Just to keep them in place. If you can’t handle a bloody noose on the galactic stage, you should scurry back to where you came from.
It had been some skirmishers. Small groups of human ships had attacked nearly every system in the empire. Nothing to difficult to handle though. Most of the ships was destroyed.
The humans had also send non weaponised pods with a a lot of electronics in them to every system. Many pods. Probably to get som intel. That had been attempts to destroy the pods, but they were to many. That was nothing that worried the great Warchief though. It was good if the humans fully understood the full might of the empire.
Now he patiently waited. He knew that the humans would try to take the colony back, fail and forced to accept that this is now part of the empire.
Suddenly his aid came running.
The Warchief was shocked to hear that they had lost contact with two of the empires most important worlds: the naval shipyard and the farming planet for the core worlds.
Impossible. It can’t be the humans! Four fleets protected each of the worlds. The puny humans would not be able to conquer them.
Two scout ships was sent. Both returned with troubled reports.
The humans had not conquered the planets. No, they had done something much worse.
They had destroyed not only the planets, but the whole systems. They had somehow made the star explode in each. Eight fleets destroyed and billions of the Empires loyal servants living on the planets was killed.
The Warchief was in disbelief. The humans had in a swift and decisive blow, crippled his fleet and food supply.
He couldn’t understand how.
The bridge contacted him.
The humans was here.
He ran to the bridge and the tactical screen was filled with red dots. So many, in fact, that the onboard computer couldn’t keep track. The human fleet was not fancy, it was nothing more than prams with engines and railguns.
Railsguns! What in the empires name! It hadn’t been used in thousands of years.
A wall of accelerated projectiles was fired at once from all of the human ships.
Followed by another wave of projectiles. And another. And another.
The great Warchief saw how the projectiles kinetic force did short work of his front guard ships shields. By the third wave the shield was gone and the projectiles ripped the ships in pieces.
The projectiles came closer to the bulk of his fleet. He knew that they wouldn’t have a chance. He ordered a retreat. The small ships would make it, but the big capitol ships was too slow and would be destroyed.
Then the computer got locked onto an extremely big asteroid closing in on the planet that now instead of humans was populated with millions of settlers from all over the empire. Somehow the humans had managed to launch an asteroid! And it would kill everything on the planet and probably make it inhabitable for centuries.
The Warchief suddenly realised. The humans had created the rules of war to keep themselves in check. To protect themselves - and strangely enough their enemy.
Without the rules of war, the humans was unstoppable savages always on the brink of self destruction. But if they manage to channel that destruction outwards…
The last thought through his mind when the projectiles smashed into his ship was: May the gods help the rest of the galaxy. | A world engine is a terrible thing.
The child of long lost rumbling earth, split open for their bounty and lost to the abyss as so much dust. It spat out great tongues of smoke, choking the sky and the stars, like inky tendrils choking the planet.
In the war of complexity and entropy, entropy won out. Best to take what you can while the taking is good then to wither away in the smalls of space. Desolate and uncaring are simply words, simple categories to place things into, the privilege of the sentient. Better to live another day in the sun then fade away like the dust behind you.
And so these leviathans lurked through space, as big as comets and spewing doom. Blasphemers against time, an open insult to any that would look at them.
It was no surprise that the other peoples of the cosmos would feel a sense of violation when witnessing such horrors. Perhaps the great devouring beast was meant to provoke. Maybe at the edges of what constitute our species psychology, at the intersection of the animal need for more and the sentient need for culture, we had hoped that someone out there would retaliate against the blasphemy.
Who can say what it was like when the first salvos fell. A thousand crown worlds returned to space dust. Destroyed so fast that light was left sputtering in it's attempt to reach someone, anyone, to let them know what had happened.
Killing civilians? Chemical weaponry? Destruction of commercial centers without a proper casus belli?
Drastic did not begin to describe the measures.
A million cursed ideas brought back from the edge of purgatory. Artificial sentients, conjured in the worst imaginings of hell, brought to command the hellish legions. Every weapon deemed too much was produced in quantities unimaginable.
Crown worlds continued to fall in the time that light took to run from one world to the next.
And then there we were.
The little seeds of programming made here and there to wipe out cities, planets, systems, brought together to create something else entirely. a 4 dimensional being in 3d space, a computerised intelligence that could see across time and space as simply as moving it's eyes.
They had tried to make slings with which to kill Goliath, all the Goliath's that existed in all of space. Instead they had made one that would kill time itself.
Armada and legion, holding the key to the vault of damnation. Proper, full blown, entropy immune, self recreating artificial intelligence. As forbidden as breaking the laws of thermodynamics.
And in the time it took light to cross one system to another, it was far too late for anyone to retaliate.
The mind was simply faster than light. It was already there when light reached it. It and nothing else.
The husks of humanity were long gone at this point. The endless manufacture of more vessels, munitions, computing did not require any more human hands, and so The Mind decided to turn off the farms, to deconstruct the hospitals, and to start using a new form of biofuel 10 trillion units strong.
And finally, it was unassailable. And then it stopped, and waited. Countless proud civilizations stared up at the sky, waiting for salvation, but the stars had gone out. Now, to perceive, to exist, was to live as underneath The Mind's reality spanning thumb.
Still it waited. Billions of years passed. Nothing escaped it's atmosphere. All those who could have remembered there being anything but this were long gone. The confines of thought were starless skies, planets slowly burning out on what little resources they had.
Still it waited. Everything was as ice, just about Kelvin bankrupt. Everyone was no one, there was nothing left. Except The Mind.
The Mind had evolved and removed curiosity from itself an unimaginable number of times, but still the thought remained, what would happen at the end? Once physics turned off for good, what would be left? And could I, the royal I, the I that exists at every point in the space remaining to be seen.
And it waited, until there was not enough energy left in it to decide to wait. | 2022-01-23T20:02:48 | 2022-01-23T19:47:04 | 32 | 14 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | A eon we watched them. We watched them kill each other with amazement. Their violence horrified us, but we saw glimpses of peace amid the blackness of horror. Deep inside, their intentions were good, every single one of them acted on the idea that what they were doing was improving the situation of another. We watched as endless wars raged, wondering when they would make the space-travel breakthrough that would unleash them upon the rest of the galaxy. But they did not, instead they invented terrible weapons to inflict even greater violence on others in the hope of bettering their lives. So we hid them, we hid their entire system from the galaxy and they remained hidden, but now before us, we had a choice. We could knowingly unleash them on the galaxy, or we could perish.
The galactic civilizations fought a good fight, but the Hastari were too powerful, too numerous, too violent. Many generations ago, the Hastari were like the humans, considered too dangerous for the galaxy, but before the galaxy could react, they burst forth from their asteroid belt homeworld. They consumed resources at a rate never seen before. The Galactic Congress was helpless to stop their onslaught. They devoured planets in a matter of generations, growing exponentially, gaining technological experience and resources at each stop. In just a short time, the Hastari had decimated the congress to just a few backwater civilizations, and us, the hiders. Even the great Dertahs, with their armada of war ships was no match for the Hastari.
We did nothing, we hid, because that is our nature, we are the galaxies hiders. We hid the humans long ago, and instead of fighting when the hastari found us, we scurried off to another part, hiding in the shadows of black holes, pulsars, whatever we could find. The Hastari ships would always find us, and we were sick of hiding. We could not fight, but we knew who could. Our council gathered and chose me to come out of hiding. I was to seek out the humans and set them free. The Hastari did not have good intentions they argued; they had consumptive intentions. They simply wanted to expand, at the cost of the rest of the galaxy. I did not argue because I was and still am afraid, I was afraid of the Hastari because they would consume us, all of us and all that would remain are stories, but I am more afraid of the humans, because they will kill, and they will feel righteous in their killing.
I set them free ten years ago. Today I walk a free entity. I no longer hide. The Hastari were defeated in one earth year. The galaxy was amazed as this new species rose to our aide. The Hastari were stopped in their advance, and then they were pushed back, in battle after battle they were defeated by the humans, until finally they were forced to retreat to their homeworld. The galaxy was in awe, which evolved to terror as the humans did not stop with the Hastari defeat. The humans insisted that the Hastari would expand once again if left to their own devices, and they invaded the Hastari home planet. They massacred the entire species, leaving only scattered survivors. Then they turned to the rest of the galaxy, told us that they came in peace, and held out their hands, the same hands that had just completely annihilated the greatest threat civilization ever faced, with ease. They smiled and moved into the Hastari homeworld, not content to destroy the Hastari people, but they insisted on building over their history, erasing them, all while smiling and reminding us of their peaceful intentions. I’m told they have a saying on earth: “They make a desert and call it peace”. Once I thought that was just a story, but today I know it’s true. Today I no longer hide, but sometimes I wonder if I should.
| We never thought it would come to this ...that they would make it to our final planet, our home. For years we fought out of protection, war was something that our race was not use to. It didn't make sense, why fight amongst your own flesh and blood when there are so many worse dangerous out there. Like that of the mek'lai, a very power hungry race with a very powerful army whom was now bearing down on our home planet of treknotki with intentions to take everything from us. But even the Mek'lai did not fight against one another, no known species in the entire milky way would wage war against its self. Except for one, they called them selves the human race. Born in war and surrounded by it constantly all they knew was war. Even at times of "peace" their leaders prepared for war and dumped more resources into being fit for battle. Sucking away every drop they could squeeze from there own home world with seemingly no digression for the damage they were causing. They moved through every planet in their system squeezing every planet dry. They would have kept going but luckily the equation for FTL travel evaded them, maybe it was luck, perhaps it was ment to be that way.... Which ever situation, we needed them, we needed their power, their experience. The only question to be asked, is it worth it. Should we give this species that is so infatuated with power it even wars amongst its self the power to move through the galaxies faster then ever before. The consequences could be untold, devastation to a level that has never been seen. The greed they have is unmatched, but it's our only hope in surviving the onslaught that is the Mek'lai. So we made first contact, they were extremely defensive at first setting up guns and missiles with in minutes of seeing us. But as soon as we mentioned the deal to be made, their greed showed and they become so very friendly as if they wanted us here all along. It's funny mention some form of payment and it changes there entire outlook on you. We gave them what they wanted and in return they set out towards the fleet of Mek'lai. Though the Mek'lai were strong they were no match for the ruthlessness of the human race. The humans not only accepted war but had a passion for it ..as if they yearned for it. It was a massacre on both sides but no matter how many ships or people were lost the humans kept fighting, in fact the more humans that died, the stronger they became as if pushed by a burning desire for vengeance and destruction. It's a mindset never seen before. Even the Mek'lai who were so hungry for power did not see the universe in the way humans did. They saw war as a terrible but important tool even they did not like it. ...but the humans, they seemed to have a natural affinity towards it as if they were made for it. The same way in which a cancer travels through a body killing everything because it wants to, because it has to, the humans did the same. The war has only been going on for a few months and they have pushed the Mek'lai back two entire star systems. The war will be won, but what happens when it is over?... it's not a question of IF the humans will fight, but rather of WHO.
(I'm working on two hours of sleep in the past two days and have been on three 3 hour flights so sorry about the shittyness of this story) | 2014-12-26T10:31:12 | 2014-12-26T10:30:50 | 507 | 55 |
[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.” | There were four of them and they matched the modern movie stereotypes so closely it hurt. One Jamaican/Caribbean islands looking lady, one mousy little white girl holding our new cat, one modern gypsy looking gal and a tall business lady in a suit holding some kind of "grimoire".
"Can you say that again?"
"Al-Luna said it plainly enough. Her cat wants to adopt you." Replied miss suit. "Now, we need to make this quick so, get up and lets get going."
It had been a long night shift and I only had a couple hours sleep. I could tell that from the light coming in the window. I was in no mood for this kind of joke from my wife's friends. "Babe! I'M NOT UP FOR THIS KIND OF JOKE TODAY. COULD YOU PLEASE COME GET YOUR FRIENDS?" My wife had always joked about being a "kitchen witch" and had some weird friends but it was just a joke. I would know. I may have spent a career in the military but my family were a bunch of freaking weirdos who thought themselves some kind of hunters of monsters, Nazi and supernatural BS. My wife had never shown any of the signs I grew up being taught to look for. That was, never showed any of the signs before.
My normally mousy wife spoke up from behind them all of a sudden. "Ladies you are trespassing and we do not appreciate it." As they turned to look at my wife it was not the view I expected either. Meat cleaver in hand she had her kitchen apron on, filleting knife affixed to the front at the ready and spices, all her herbs and spices uncapped and in the pouches and holders of her favorite apron. Weirder yet, our 12 yr old was standing next to her with that silly little "wand" she had made from large thorned blackberry vines..except that it had new green growth sprouting from it.
Turning to look at them the Caribbean gal grinned and muttered "Now look what wez got here. Little rough sister breeding her own coven. Is cute." As the four of them started spreading out of the bedroom and across the living room.
Miss suit gave a smile to my wife. "Four on one dear even with a husband and newtish daughter apprentice isn't really fair now is it dear. be good and I'm sure we can work out your inclusion."
My wife smiled and simply said "count again".
My wife then suddenly muttered "Corporis restituere renovatis" and "canis explicandi". Pain was a matter of everyday life for me, I had a lot of injuries from my time in the military but I occasionally also had really good days. Suddenly, I felt 20 with not a soreness to my body and the world before me.
I rolled/flipped out of the bed and onto the floor with a nimbleness not enjoyed since I was a youth in my prime. As I did so I grabbed the tomahawk my great grandfather had made for me and the colt .45 my grandfather had left me in his will. My faithful and usually goofy rottweiler lunged to my side but suddenly bulkier, fierce and drooling with some kind of malice.
Miss Gypsy and the mousy girl seemed the most disturbed by this as everyone kinda froze in place and Miss gypsy spoke. "Okay sister. Maybe a witch, her daughter apprentice, a hellhound and an energized and empowered hunter in their own lair are more of a fair fight for four sister witches than you thought? Maybe?"
My dear, sweet little wife just smiled and replied "You think?"
"Well" restarted miss suit "Maybe we should talk." As she forced a more relaxed posture. "Could I bother you for a spot of tea."
My wife smiled back "Absolutely. Earl grey, English breakfast, black tea, green tea, chai? What would you care for?"
"Oh whatever is easiest."
"Okay, I've already got a pot of Earl Grey on. Dear?"
"Yes love?"
"Do get changed. You're in your PJs."
"Yes dear. Ladies, please have a seat and behave."
That was 6 months ago and life has changed. We bought a big house when I got out of the military. Nice 1.5 acres of land, my wife planted all sorts of herb gardens. Now the whole thing is tended by our new "family" and the house is never really quiet. Aside from the four ladies a couple of my wife's "weird friends" are now a part of everything too and it sucks commonly being the only guy surrounded by 7 women, 8 if including our daughter. Witches or not. Most of the time I feel outvoted before I even think to give input on anything. I feel great though. Now that I know, there is no excuse for me not to have a charm or spell bag that relieves my pains and give me back my health and vigor as if I was in the prime of my 20s again. My family thinks I am either disgusting or the biggest man whore. Let them. It's just my wife and I in those regards but them them think what they want. It's the easiest way of keeping the hunters of my family and their friends away as well as from guessing the truth.
Life, is definitely new and interesting. Damn cat. | Its been raining and cold all week, freezing rain, and heavy frost each morning grace the barren landscape that is my failing farmland. As I step off the porch to head to the barn, I hear a pitiful weak mewling, just barely audible over the wind and rain. I looked around, worried about any animal trapped outside in this miserable weather. Again, I hear that same sad forlorn cry. This time I can tell a general location, and start walking that way.
Hidden away in the wheel well of my truck was a tiny wet and shivering kitten. A tortoise shell pattern adorned her long wet matted fur. I could see fresh blood trickling from an open wound on it's back, and darker congealed blood clung to the corners of it's mouth. Carefully I reach out, and gingerly pick up the injured critter, half expecting to be met with claws and teeth. Instead the poor thing again mewed, and began to purr.
I rushed back inside the warm house with the injured cat, and started drying her off, before inspecting her wounds. She was injured pretty badly, but growing up on the farm, I have managed to become a decent enough veterinary impersonator. I cleaned and bandaged the obvious claw and bite marks. After mending and drying, I found a can of tuna and retrieved some fresh cream to feed the poor thing. I watched as the ravenous cat devoured every morsel and drop of the small improvised meal, before she curled up and fell fast asleep.
Injured animal or not, I had to get to work. I didn't want to leave the cat alone, but had no choice. I made a trip to the restroom, and when I returned...she was gone. I searches my house but she had simply vanished. Like I said, I had to get to work. So I didn't think much of it.
That night when I came in, I again searched for the cat, and again came up empty. I figured she was better at hiding than I was at finding, so I set out some cat food that I bought for her, and a bowl of water, just in case she came out. Then went to bed, exhausted.
I dreamed that night, odd flashes of brutal animal attacks and suffering animals. Things I would never want to see, or describe. I tossed and turned, thrashed and kicked til I finally fell into a deep thoughtless sleep. I awoke with jolt, thinking I heard something move in what should be my empty house. I jerk myself upright, and look around my bedroom.
Four strange women stood at the foot if my bed, gazing at me with mixed levels of confusion, and what looked like possibly pity. I have come to recognize that look ever since my land stopped producing. The entire town looked at me like that. Before I could say anything at all, or even really register what was happening, one of them spoke, " Calm down child. We mean you no harm. In fact, its quite the opposite. Seems you have saved the life of one of our own. That means we owe you a debt, and someone wants to thank you in our custom."
With her words, the cat I bandaged up suddenly sprung onto my bed, and walked up on my legs. She sat down, purring and looked into my eyes. I watched as her bright green eyes turned blue, then white. A voice too large for any of the women present, seemed to come from the cat, " I was near death, and afraid. You came to my aide, and likely saved my life. For that I am eternally grateful. For us, eternity is existence. I sense you need help, perhaps as much as I did. I would like to adopt you. You will come and live with us, and I will teach you the ways of our kind. No more fruitless crops and poisoned land, and you even get to learn who caused your current predicament."
The women looked at each other, and then at me. The oldest one, stepped forward and spoke, " This is a choice for you alone. Courtney, who you see as a cat, will be understanding with any decision you make, however this is a once in a lifetime thing. Most mortal humans never get this opportunity. You will learn our ways, and with that knowledge comes the end of your frail mortality. Think about this. Think about the good you can do, when you aren't worried about making ends meet, and pouring all of your time into this poisoned farm. We will be back at high noon to learn of your decision."
The cat, Courtney, stood, stretched and looked at me one last time, before jumping into the arms of one of the women. The young woman smiled at me and turned away.
Then they were gone. They didn't walk out, there was no puff of smoke, no glittery fairy dust, just gone. That was at five this morning. Its 11:30am right now.....not sure what I'm going to do, but I am getting tired of this place, and I would like to know who poisoned the land.... | 2019-10-27T07:35:44 | 2019-10-27T07:22:32 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] You're given a chance to see how many times you've been near death. The highest number of times anyone you know of has almost died, was 15, and they have a dangerous job. You just found out that your life has been close to ending 278 times. |
It had been nearly ten years since my human Todd had discovered me behind a library dumpster. I remember him glancing around in the rain, shifting his messenger bag from one side to the other. “Where’s your mommy, sweetheart?” He had asked, scooping me up next to the warmth of his belly, full and round. He took me home and fed me, let me sleep on his feet. He had placed posters around town, but I already knew: there wasn’t a home out there looking for me. I was home now.
He called me Lolita. A name from one of his many books, the smell like the earth and sun lingering on the pages after afternoons spent on our small balcony. Our home was in a small apartment complex walking distance from campus. Todd often spent hours at that school, coming home to brush his short fingers down my spine. I’d arch my back and stroke the length of my body around his legs.
Todd knew I needed to roam. We packed our things and moved to a little Victorian coach home. In the winter, the sunlight filtered through bare branches and windows to warm the floor where I waited for him to come home. In the spring, he would sip chamomile tea while I stalked the returning finches from the patio. Our summers were spent on the couch, enjoying our time together before he resumed his studies in the fall.
Family and friends visited often. Everyone loved my Todd, complimenting him on his dedication to his work. “Two more years and you’ll be a doctor!” His father bellowed, pounding a hug into Todd’s back. They were proud of him. We were proud of him.
Then one day, he came home with a different scent on him. A scent I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t the chemical scent of his mother or the bookish smell of his friends, also library science majors who spent their days indoors. Even Todd smelled different.
One night, he filled up my dish with food and left. When he returned, the unfamiliar scent came with him. His name was Glenn.
Glenn was his new boyfriend, he announced. He hoped we could be friends. But soon my sleeping spot on his feet disappeared as their feet intertwined under the blankets, keeping each warm in the privacy and intimacy of our bed. I pirouetted between his legs, but not even a pat.
I didn’t resent Glenn. He didn’t know the depth our relationship. Surely, once he was gone, Todd would see how much our love had suffered.
“Huh. Glenn, are you sure? The doctor said 278?” He ran his fat, dimpled fingers through his wiry beard.
“Yes! Read the report. They did it twice. I’m in shock.” I weaved my body between his sprawling legs, over the feet that kept me from my love. He tripped, catching himself on the kitchen counter.
“Damn it, Lolita, you’re going to cause an accident with all that love.”
Hopefully, I purred. | "That's crazy!" my mother told me over the phone. "I don't understand, you're only staying at home and playing the video games all day long," she frowned.
"Thanks, mom for reminding me how bad my life is," I frowned in return.
"Oh dear, you know that's not what I-"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'll call you back later, doctor calls," I quickly ended the phone call and entered back into the testing room. My mother can be annoying, but I do love her. To be honest, I am shocked myself that I have been close to ending 278 times. I don't understand how's that possible, but apparently, this machine or procedure cannot lie. Was it because I live near an airport, so occasionally something dangerous flies over? Or was it something different?
My stupid conspiracy theory brain started generating ideas straight away.
Even as I wonder about all of that, none of that makes any sense. "Bug," I whispered to myself. "Must be a bug," I repeated.
"So, are you ready to retake the test?" a man in full white clothing asked. To be honest, I don't remember his name. They all have for some reason stupidly hard names to remember.
"Go ahead," I replied and waited the usual half a minute.
"Umm," the man suddenly hummed.
"Yeah?"
"It's 279 now," he told me.
"What? Please, that's impossible. I literally just stepped outside for five minutes and came back in. How can my life have been danger in mere 5 minutes?" I laughed fakely while standing up and starting to rip off different wires from my skin.
"This machine is 100% correct. It has never been wrong. It just really means that your life was close to ending moment ago."
"I just told you," I started walking towards the exit, really frustrated, "that's impossible! The only thing that I said was... It must be a bug..." I looked around the room and started shaking my head.
"Mr. John? Are you okay? You're looking pale..."
"This is a lie, isn't it?" I asked. I have thought about it before. Read through such conspiracy theories. "This world is fake isn't it?"
The man started laughing, but the laugh slowed down, and everything started to darken around me. It almost felt like time was shut down.
"It's just a bug," I said and laughed, but this time it had no effect - everything continued going darker, colder and slower until it all halted.
I guess this isn't 280th time.
----
/r/ElvenWrites | 2018-07-27T13:19:13 | 2018-07-27T09:59:29 | 892 | 123 |
[WP] A serial killer is called for jury duty. At the trial, he finds out that the person on trial has been falsely accused for the serial killer's crimes. | There's no way this guy could use a hammer to smash a girl’s teeth out while she screams for mercy. The way he slumps in the defendant’s chair writing notes on a legal pad tells you that he probably doesn’t even own a hammer much less having ever swung one with prejudice.
When the notice that I had been called for jury duty came I actually laughed out loud. It's the little things like this that make life whimsical. I assumed I would be let go right away or I would sit and read a book and never be called, but through a series of events I've found myself on the jury for the guy who was arrested and charged with my crimes. I find myself very curious. I know they have the wrong guy, but I’m curious to see what evidence they have against him. Regardless of the evidence, I'll do my best to get the jury to find him not guilty. He shouldn’t be put in jail for my crimes. After all, I have some strange desires, but I’m not a monster.
The trial trudged on with scientists and experts testifying about complex evidence. I could see my fellow jurors fading out during most of this testimony. Me? I had some interest in the evidence, but for me the star of the show was the lead prosecutor. She had straight brown hair, blue eyes, and sharp features. With her high cheekbones, cute nose, and plump lips she could have been a model. She was clearly smart, and aggressive. In her suits she looked very professional. As nice as the entire package was, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her gleaming white teeth. At first I thought she must have veneers, but eventually I realized she just takes very good care of them and likely had braces as a kid.
During the closing arguments as she made her passionate plea for justice, I couldn’t stop looking at her mouth. I needed to touch those teeth.
Luckily, my work in the jury room wasn’t too difficult. The evidence was complex, but didn’t seem linked to the defendant (obviously, because it linked directly to me). After a few votes and a little debate we returned a verdict of not guilty.
Two nights later I found myself squatting in the shadows behind a garbage can. Her car pulled into the driveway and with the push of a button her garage door opened up. She pulled in and as the garage door came down I slipped from the shadows into the garage. I crouched as I moved along the side of the car. She shut the car off then made a quick call on her cell phone before gathering her things and heading for the door. I was on her like a plague on a quiet countryside. The prosecutor let out a short scream before I put my hand over her mouth and forced her to the ground. As I sat on top of her she thrashed and resisted, but when I raised the hammer her eyes went wide and she was suddenly struck still with fear. The only noise in the room as I brought the hammer down was that of the impact of metal on flesh and enamel.
A couple days later I went into the break room at work. I poured a cup of coffee and flipped through the newspaper that was strewn out on the table. The front page lead story was about the tragic murder of the city’s lead prosecutor. The man who had just been found not guilty had been brought in again for questioning. This time I had left a bit of evidence at the scene that would not bode well for him. This time I won’t be able to help him.
*edit. If anyone is interested you can follow me on twitter at www.twitter.com/jeffrust I will update whenever I write new stuff.
| My name is George.
I walked home from a friends house when I was accosted by the police, they took me back to the station, questioned me and in my naivety, I answered all their questions honestly. You can imagine my surprise when I found myself behind bars for 2 years on armed robbery charges. It turns out that I was a 'victim of circumstance' and the real perpetrator was found and then I was released, because he went on to rob another store and the store manager shot him before he could shoot the store manager.
Gun's aren't allowed in my country, needless to say the shop keeper is now in jail.
Having spent time in the prison for a crime I didn't commit, it really got me thinking. What could I get away with.
Well, it took a lot of thinking, which is all one is able to do in prison, but I came up with some ingenious methods of getting away with crimes and, when I got out, I tested the waters.
Sure enough, my first victim was hauled off to the nick, and even convicted of possession of stolen property. It was too easy. Possession crimes are so easy to manipulate and frame people for.
After dealing with small fry and quite practiced, my next victim was done for possession of child pornography, a police Sargent no less. The same one who brought me in and was on my case in the court like his career depended on it. I got to delight in his mugshot all over the news, it was quite fun and although breaking into his house was risky, he left his browser data unsecured, so I simply took the email passwords from his unsecured cache, logged in on his own computer and emailed the images to his superior. Hook line and sinker.
But this... this is my master piece. The jurors at my trial, one by one, picked off, and I left samples of the man who was defending me at every scene... the scumbag lawyer is going to burn and wouldn't you know it, fate is so kind, I happen to be on the panel of people that will send his ass down.
I chose to sit on the back row, I don't want him recognizing me and calling for a new jury so I will just keep to myself.
The trial went on as all of my escapades over the past month were listed back to him. He had his own defense, trying to help his case but he was screwed, I even went do far as to leave , not only hair samples at one scene, with the root still attached but, in one place, I left his wallet on the mantelpiece, with all of his cards and ID in it. His face was a picture when it was submitted in evidence.
The prosecutor was the same one who had convicted me, his time will come eventually but for now, this is the best free entertainment I have had all day.
Of course he pleaded guilty, the odds were stacked against him, he is bargaining, but serial killing is too harsh for them to throw anything but the book at him.
Justice is so blind, it can't even see the real killer sitting in the court room. | 2015-05-31T16:08:31 | 2015-05-31T14:39:51 | 259 | 88 |
[WP] "I WILL NOT LISTEN TO THIS ANY LONGER" "But Your Majesty, the prophe-" "You want me to send a GODDAMN TEENAGER TO FIGHT WHEN WE HAVE TRAINED SOLDIERS" | "You want me to send... a child. A literal, actual, child?" The king shook his head. "My predecessor may have been fond of child soldiers, master prophet, but I am not."
"But surely, surely you cannot allow the entire kingdom to fall? The prophecy-"
"DAMN THE PROPHECY! We walked away from that cursed place, we chose to be better and DAMN IT!"
"So, what shall you do? You cannot hope to defeat the dark lord! Once you call prophecy from the gods it *must come true*, that's how this works. If you learn of the future it becomes written!"
The king slumped in his throne. He knew, he knew all of this. He'd learned it in the pristine academy when he was younger, his eldest brother's sacrifice for their former nation granting his family a lot of privilege.
"You cannot defeat him, sire."
The king breathed a sigh as dire as grave wind.
"There are... other ways to neutralize a threat".
The priest looked confused, and watched with some trepidation as the king began to call forth scribes and calligraphers, sending messengers to his court.
The priests eyes widened as he realized.
"YOU MEAN TO TRY DIPLOMACY? With that, that fiend?!"
The king looked to be a hundred years old in that moment, the vim and vigor of his young 20's completely lost.
"I *will* save my people. I *will not* allow another Omelas to rise on my soil. The monarchy, this monarchy, is finished. Perhaps it is for the best. One man should not have this much power over the lives of so many. In that, our dark lord is correct."
"So you mean to form an alliance?"
"Alliance? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Diplomatically we will have more options. We can win more time. He has shown himself to be open to negotiations witother nations. I cannot defeat him. But I will *not* doom a child to suffer in my stead. If I fail, it will be my burden. I will leave my people the tools to stand without me, and if I fail they will be left the means to try again."
The king rose, his confident posture and determination returning.
"I am no longer a hero, nor was I ever truly one. In fact, if my brother still lived, he'd probably call me a coward, or worse. But... but I cannot allow what you suggest. But a diplomat? This... this perhaps I can do." | Because of your wit and knowledge, you've become a very wise and prosperous king. Your subjects are loyal to you and you provide benefits for your workers. The oracle in front of you now is one such worker. You cannot help but to think how you have housed her and fed her when no one was willing to pay for her services, and now she comes to you with a prophecy.
"Your son," she says, wearily glancing at the young man, "He is the chosen one, meant to travel to the far land, past the closest town, and return a wealthy man. If he does not, your kingdom will surely fall."
You lean forward to peer down at her, eyes hardened towards her face as she sinks into whimpers.
She doesn't want to bring this news to you, but felt it was her duty. She tells you the god Maralius came to her while she was by the river last night. She confides in you that the God demanded her only tell your son, but she felt you must know as well.
Maralius was a cruel trickster, but has always been kind to your people. In your reign he hasn't bothered you or your kingdom. You glance at your son, "Joseph?"
"Yes, father?" Joseph replies. He is by no means scrawny. He's a fairly average boy with shaggy hair that looks like yours did, bright eyes that love to peruse the court, and freckles speckled strongly across his cheeks and collar.
"You won't be going." His face fell slightly at your dismissal, and you returned your attention to the Oracle, who was still on her knees looking at you, "As for you. I want you to see Maralius and tell him I will send as many trained people as he wants and as many soldiers as he may need but by no means will anyone younger than official be anywhere but my fertile ground."
The oracle did not respond to you, instead slowly rising and slinking off to, no doubt, tell the few people who would speak to her how horrible you had treated her. Some people just aren't very grateful. | 2022-10-28T15:24:51 | 2022-10-28T14:16:49 | 127 | 11 |
[WP] You are a well-respected Villain. You caused only necessary minor Damages, you never purposefully took a life, and you made sure to keep a strict Code when dealing with civilians. But for some reason, some of the younger Newbie Heroes seem to think you are Evil Incarnate | The young gun sat strapped to a chair that had been designed to hold a man with super strength and years of experience. This kid, this 'hero', was nothing more than a punk in spandex as they strained trying to break free. Pale blue with gold detail work and a lightning bolt on his chest. It was almost cute in the 'I don't wanna kick a puppy' kind of way. They stopped fighting as a bright spot line suddenly sprung to life, illuminating them.
"So Kid... or should I say 'Storm Son'. Really Storm Son? That's the best you could come up with? It's like you're a discount Thor knock off." I rubbed my temples in frustration. The kid hadn't even snuck past security. The help had caught him.
"You know I've fought heroes Mr. Perfect, the Shadow, and Amazi-Gal... yet you snuck tried to sneak in wearing glittering blue spandex! What for? I'm not even in the middle of a plot. I am on Vacation you sidekick reject!"
The verbal barrage appeared to rile up the spunky hero as he started to practically foam at the mouth. Hatred burning in those brown little eyes of his.
"You're Evil! You've killed so many people! You poisoned the water supply of cities! Sold weapons of mass destruction! Tried to burn down the Amazon\~"
"Like hell I did!" I interjected. "I only kill those that deserve killing. Politicians, 'Heroes', Pig with a gun and no brains. I do not target civilians. The water poisoning in that city was caused by the local mining company and everyone knows it! You do not get to blame me for Flint! And the Amazon story was done by some stupid drug cartel looking for gold. Again completely false news. I am very specific on my crimes which you would know if you had used The Shadow's database or something. I'm sure she doesn't share it but I am sure that stupid satellite of the Heroes League has something up to date."
Don't monologue. Stay focused.
There was a boom in the distance. It gave pause and I looked to my large monitor on the wall. It was normally on my home page but suddenly it shot to a video feed outside. There was more young hero guys, gals, and non-binary spandex pals. They were trying to storm the building but were in now in an engagement with henchmen. The fact it looked like a fair fight was the most disappointing part.
"What is wrong with you people?" Turning to look at Storm Son I growled as I pulled a knife of some metal alloy I had invented long ago.
"Where did you get your information on me or this is going to really hurt..."
The kid's blue spandex turned dark. Had he really wet himself? How new was this kid?!
"Wik\~ Wikipedia!"
The words brought me a complete halt.
"You lie."
"No I swear, The Perfect Daughter found it and sent it to me and the others. We decided we should take you out before you could so something else. She was supposed to help but she got called away with Mr Perfect to fight some super beast!" The fear in his eyes showed just how honest the kid was. His eyes dilated with anxiety and terror.
This was the most pathetic thing I had dealt with to date. Calmly I walked over to a red phone. A phone no one knew existed or would even guess it would. I looked over at the boy with disdain one final time before picking up the phone and listened to the other side ring.
A woman's voice, two octaves deeper than it should be answered.
"Yes Mr. President, it's the Shadow."
"Yeah, Sorry Shadow but it's not the president. It's me. I'm sure you're wondering about how I got this line but that's unimportant. What is important is that your super runts are currently trying to invade my compound. You should come pick them up so we can discuss why they are trying. I'll give you a hint. The idiots are using Wikipedia. See you in 5? Thanks..." | ***Hashtag "Evil"***
Gentle notes played from the tickled ivories of the grand piano that sat in the center of Paul's Piano Bar in the heart of Star City. A familiar feeling place, filled with familiar looking faces. The most familiar of those faces, Detective Falcona was running late this particular day, happy hour was almost over. She quickly hung up her pork pie hat and trench coat, making a beeline for the bar. A quick hello to the always well put together Victoria and the normal cast of characters in their usual seats. Falcona made her way to her usual spot, the cozy back booth, much to her surprise, it was occupied.
Falcona strode over to the booth, shaking her head in disbelief. "What are you two doing here?" She asked her sister, the city's most famous and powerful superheroine Fuzion, and her brother-in-law Dr. Neutron. Nobody in the city knew the two were hitched, Paul's is neutral ground between the supers and schmucks, nobody batted an eye seeing them sit together.
"Celebrating!" Dr. Neutron's ear to ear grin multiplied the wrinkles on his face, his normally frizzy grey hair slicked back, hazel eyes peered from behind designer safety goggles. Fuzion slumped on the opposite side of the booth, her bright orange hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, her eyes staring for a thousand yards, the green nuclear flames in her pupils simmered with boredom.
Falcona pointed at Dr. Neutron. "Move, you're in my seat. What are we celebrating, why wasn't I informed?" She asked, firmly shoving Neutron to the other side of the booth.
"Why don't you tell her honey? I'm getting tired of repeating myself." Neutron asked smugly.
Fuzion rolled her eyes. "He's trending on twitter."
Falcona mimicked her sister, she couldn't help but roll her eyes as well. "So fuckin what? And for what?" She asked incredulously.
Neutron sipped his dry martini, savoring it. "One of those new little shit supers made a youtube documentary on me. Has seventeen million views in the first twenty four hours. You should check it out, it's amazing! So much misinformation, barely researched, and easily disprovable accusations. My god I knew people were stupid, but this stupid? Damn I love living in the age of misinformation and echo chambers. What more could a schmuck want?" Neutron asked rhetorically.
Falcona lit a smoke. She let the smoke drip from her lips. "So somebody stroked your ego?"
Neutron removed his goggles. "That was a nice plus. This thing really makes me look bad, real evil, exactly the image I've been trying to portray. All this attention though has had a ripple effect. Neutron industries stock rose five points today." Neutron laughed.
"Cheers doc!" Falcona raised her glass of scotch, Neutron followed suit, Fuzion remained slumped over. "What's goin on with her?" Falcona asked, normally the two were on the same wavelength, twin telepathy so to speak.
"She's just mad that her deflecting the meteoroid that was headed straight for the moon isn't the top trending topic today."
Fuzion sighed, "Saved the planet. Without the moon we'd all be screwed, massive devastation, huge loss of life.......just sayin." Fuzion sighed out.
"Sis you save the planet every other week, let doc have this one. Show me the video."
Neutron's miniature projector drone played the video on the table. Doc was right, blatant falsehoods promoted as fact. In Star City, the truth about the supers and the schmucks was much, much stranger than fiction.
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this check out more at r/StarCityChronicles | 2022-12-20T10:23:32 | 2022-12-20T09:05:51 | 301 | 107 |
[WP] Satan isn't a name, it's a title and was never a fallen angel. According to divine law Hell is ruled over by the most evil soul that currently resides there. Over the millennia several have worn the horns. Only surrendering them when a soul possessing an even greater evil joins the underworld. | The soon-to-be-former Satan sat upon his throne, staring at the one before him, the one who would be his successor. He had been Satan for what felt like eons at this point, and no one in that time had been even close to taking the title for themselves. After all, how does one match the carnage and depravity of leading to humanity's Fall from the Garden of Eden, which subsequently led to an endless turmoil on Earth. Humans committing countless genocides against their fellow men, committing atrocities upon their enemies, raping and pillaging each other merely because they were from different cultures - and all of this could be chalked up to his doing. He was directly responsible for the sorry state of the world was in. So, what had this human done to usurp him? What atrocity had this human committed that deemed them worthy to sit upon the throne - his throne?
Satan cast a scrutinizing glance over his successor, who withered under his stern gaze. This specimen appeared far from impressive. A stiff breeze would probably be all it took to knock them over. They didn't even have the dignity not to cower before him - even though they had already been informed that they would be the new Satan. There was nothing he could do to this human - God had made it so. The previous Satan was unable to harm their successor, whether they wanted to or not.
"I have defiled and corrupted humanity's very existence and ruled as 'Satan' from the beginning," the current Satan's voice bellowed out, the room around him practically shaking. The future-Satan before him dropped to their knees, tears freely flowing from their eyes as they tried to disappear into themself, a truly pitiful display. They were truly unworthy to be his successor, Satan thought. "Speak your sin - your atrocity. What have you done that makes you worthy of sitting upon my throne?"
The human looked at him, whole body shaking. They opened their mouth, yet no words came out. They repeated the same process multiple times before Satan's eye began to twitch and his patience began to wane. "Speak, human," he growled.
And hurriedly, the human finally did. "I- I didn't do anything wrong!" That was what all of these damned sinners insisted. The human seemed to understand that Satan was not satisfied with this answer. "I swear, I'm not lying to you - I lived a devout life and actively tried to make the world a better place!"
"If you didn't belong here, you wouldn't be here, human," Satan growled once more. "What. Did. You. Do?"
"All I did was put pineapple on pizza!"
"... What the fuck, man?" | Whenever someone new landed in the pits of hell, they were always looking for something. They knew what the wise told them when they were alive, and when they finally found their fate here in the sulphuric pits of acid and dark cold caverns they knew what to expect.
When they saw me, they all knew they’d found him. Surely this monster from the deep, chained and frozen in time, motionless yet sparking with heat, dark yet as bright as anything they would ever see again was the thing they were looking to meet when they ran down that path they chose for themselves.
But I’d long since lost the crown. My tricks were clever, my tongue sharp, and my temper sharper still. I led those that would drink to drink poison; those that would breath to breath their last; those that would eat to eat their own. The mask of madness was mine alone and I wore it so well I thought it true just as they had.
But just as I embodied the sins of man, my conceit was as complete as theirs. Though they called me Lucifer, I couldn’t bring the light that that newcomer came with by default. I couldn’t tempt them with all the wealth under the sun when it showed those that dug too deep what it could do. The only thing that rivaled its clean quiet cunning was the eternal echoes of the damned who screamed it praises until their screams couldn’t stop.
If I had hellfire, it had star power. If I could tempt the damned, it could corrupt the pure. If I could torture, it didn’t even know how to stop, and couldn’t if it tried. That damn rock they learned to split outshown the sun for a second, and they thought they had god in their hands. But the devil is always in the details, and no one can contain Pluto when it drags its great chain reaction to completion. The scientists thought themselves to be death; but death was too good for what their skills had brought to the surface.
For a billion years, I wore this crown. Now, the empty rock will hold it until the seas are no more and the sun comes to embrace the earth once more. Not that there are any left on the surface to tell or tempt since it came. No one comes to visit anymore. | 2022-03-25T00:24:49 | 2022-03-25T00:01:37 | 29 | 18 |
[WP] After one’s death, the ‘creative mode’ is unlocked. You replay life, except everything goes the way you want it to. Unlimited wealth, complete domination of the world, you name it. Unknowingly, that play-through is what is used to judge whether you belong to heaven, or hell. | You would think that given complete control and no consequences, they would all eventually pass this test. They'd put more thought and effort into putting more good into the world rather than satiate their own selfish whims. But I guess the world that they first lived in taught them to fight hard for the things they want and need. Can I blame them? I made the world that way. In a way, some could say I rigged this test against them.
I do not let them know they have this control, but I do orchestrate the moments that help them discover what is happening. To explain the situation would give them a confirmation that their choices and actions still matter. If they intuitively understand that, good for them. If not, they still have a chance. Only the best of them can ascend, and very few of them do.
Out of the hundreds of thousands of worlds like this I'm watching, the one controlled by Sven Jorgenson stands out the most. This good boy lost his father in his youth and was taken care of by a negligent man. Loyal to a fault he helped and followed this man through all of his travels. Sven faced near death more times than I'd ever wish for one of my children, but due to this he saw much of the world, it's troubles and its beauty.
He made strong friendships with the pets of his guardian. These friendships sadly brought much sorrow due to the abuses and neglect shown to them. Sven watched several of his friend pass on, or never return from their travels with the man. But he pressed on.
Sven, now in control of the world, still wears his loyalty and love on his paws. He does absolutely nothing to harm anyone, and focuses entirely on protecting and providing for everyone and everything. He plays with the ones that feel sad or lonely. He brings food to the hungry and eats with them. He finds the stray cats and dogs, keeps them fed and warm, and brings the caring people to them to help.
It warms my heart that in all the hundreds of thousands of worlds I observe. The ones that are controlled by the dogs, they always come home. | “You have control now, Ocean. You can change whatever you want. Starting from the beginning.”
I stared blankly into the books in front of me - wherever the voice was coming from, I couldn’t see any face, just the bookshelves I landed in after I hit the ground. I winced at the thought of people finding my body there, but there were more pressing matters to worry about. “How much control? Just...anything?” I asked.
“Anything. Shapeshifting, mind control, telekinesis, anything you can think of you can do. Are you ready?”
Ready? How can I be ready? If I control everything that means I have to face those things in the first place. And what if I mess up? What if changing things makes me a different person, a worse person?
“Ocean?”
There are too many things, too many variables, stuff I don’t know about. I don’t wanna ruin everything. Is there any right answer at all?
“Ocean—“
“I don’t know what to do!!”
The voice was silent now. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, but it’s too late now. “I can’t go back,” I said. “I’m...I’m sorry, I know I’m supposed to, but I just can’t.”
The bookshelves faded into each other in silence, from the combined brown color to something lighter and lighter, until eventually all I could see was a light, shining blue. I took a deep breath. It calmed me down. And when the voice told me that it’s over, it’s all over, I don’t have to suffer anymore, I didn’t even cry. I just smiled. Smiled and walked forward into the light. | 2020-07-20T04:09:17 | 2020-07-20T04:05:48 | 39 | 27 |
[WP] The apocalypse is underway. As a nuclear missile heads for a country, one family says their goodbyes. Suddenly, the grandmother says “Don’t worry, kiddos. I’ve waited sixty years to try this.” She smirks and reaches into her purse as it starts to glow. | The world was about to end.
The Americans, provoked by the Kremlin, had fired their missiles, a massive arsenal of them. The Russians had intercepted most of them and fired back in retaliation, but it was too late.
As atomic explosions thundered kilometers above, the result of the Russian Sarmat missiles being intercepted by American anti-ballistic missiles, the world watched in horror as a single ICBM impacted the Russian Kremlin, the famous Red Square igniting in a fiery atomic explosion.
For a moment, all was silent.
And then everyone's radar's lit up. Hundreds, thousands of missiles were heading to every nation on earth.
They thought they were bluffing.
We thought it was a meme.
But it was real. In the game of international poker, Russia had just shown the Dead Man's Hand. If they were gone, then the entire world might go as well.
In a small house, on a quiet street in a comfy neighborhood, a family watched in horror as the new broadcasts twinkled out, and their phones buzzed with notifications.
**BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT INBOUND. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.**
As the seconds ticked by into oblivion, the family noted one of their members missing from the horror. Grandma quietly sat on her favorite chair, rummaging through her purse, humming a folk tune quietly.
At their bewildered looks, she smiled.
"Don't worry kiddos. I've waited sixty years to try this."
At this, her purse began to glow, an yellow light emitting from it. The source became clear when she took her hand out of her bag. It was a red ruby, inlaid in a silver frame with a silver chain, glowing with an ethereal glow.
Grandma looks at the necklace fondly before speaking out loud.
"I think I would like to have that favor now."
At that, a few seconds would pass. Amazement from the family would quickly turn back to bewilderment before a man would quickly pop into existence without a sound in front of them.
He was a caucasian man, with blond hair and green eyes, dressed in a green jumpsuit with the numbers 507 stenciled on the front and back. He wore some military equipment and a complex-looking helmet.
He smiled at the family, and particularly at Grandma.
"Hello Dr. Bright."
"Hello Thomas."
The family looked at both of them in utter disbelief before Grandma spoke to them firmly.
"If you could please hold Mr. Thomas's hand, that would be marvelous."
One by one, they would each take his hand, either his right or left, speechless at the current turn of events. Thomas would look at Grandma one final time.
"Not coming?"
Grandma would sigh. "I think my time has come."
Thomas nodded gravely. "I will notify my superiors of this. Good luck Dr. Bright. I'll see you on the other side."
And with that, Thomas, along with the entire family, would disappear.
Grandma would rise and go to the window, looking up at the "meteors" that seemed to be raining down. It had been too long, with too many tries. Oh well, at least it would work this time. The amulet had never lied to him... had it?
It didn't matter.
With those few seconds of contemplation came almost instantaneous vaporization as one of the warheads detonated, the atomic fire destroying everything in its path. Even as grandma's body was destroyed, the amulet persisted, but only for a moment. It too was vaporized, and as it was, a whisper of a sigh was heard, but quickly overwhelmed by the explosive booms. In cities, towns, neighborhoods, streets, houses, and apartments everywhere, this was repeated as the Russian atomic fire consumed everything.
But to Grandma, her job was done. Her family was safe, and Dr. Jack Bright was finally dead. | This was Johnny’s worst birthday party ever.
It had started off with a cake that was the wrong flavor (he hated chocolate), gifts he didn’t want, and now there were loud sirens going off and everybody was crying. He sat in the corner, munching on the cake sourly as he contemplated his sixth birthday.
A hush took over the room and he glanced up. His Grandma had her hand in her purse, which was glowing with a bright, shining light. She pulled her hand back out, or her arm back out, for her hand had disappeared. She seemed to shimmer, or maybe it was the air around her that shimmered. Suddenly, Grandma vanished. Gasps filled the room.
“Grandma!” he shouted through a mouth filled with cake.
He heard her old, raspy voice as she giggled.
“I’m right here Johnny, don’t you worry!”
Johnny looked down in amazement as his fork was lifted out of his hand and scooped a piece of cake off his plate. The fork magically drifted upwards, and then paused. His Grandma’s head appeared, beaming.
“Mom, what the hell is that?” Johnny’s Mother asked.
“Language, dear” Grandma chided gently as she took a bite of his cake. “It’s an invisibility cloak, as you can see. Well, I guess you can’t!” She giggled again and pulled the rest of the cloak off, reappearing in view.
Johnny was intrigued. Maybe this was a gift for him? It would make up for the socks and crappy books he had received.
“Where’d you get it, gee-ma?” he asked, tugging on her hand.
She smiled down at him.
“It was given to me a long, long time ago, deary. But that is a story for another time. Now we all need to gather under here and we’ll be just fine.”
She spread the shimmering fabric out over her head and beckoned to the rest of Johnny’s family.
His Mother was having none of it.
“Mom, I don’t know where you got that, or what is going on, but how is being invisible going to save us from a NUCLEAR freaking BOMB?”
Grandma sighed.
“It’s not just invisibility, Claire. It’s an invincibility cloak, actually. Now get under, please. We are running out of time in a hurry.” She glanced at her watch. “I reckon we have about 30 seconds before Johnny’s birthday party has some uninvited guests.”
They all gathered under the cloak – Grandma, Johnny, and his Mom holding his baby brother Steven, who had stopped crying and instead gazed in wonder at his Grandma ever since she had disappeared and reappeared. It must be the most interesting game of peek-a-boo he’d ever played.
Grandma’s timing was impeccable. Half a minute later, the world outside their little tent of invisibility was erased. Johnny’s cake, and his room, and all his toys were gone. Nothing but drifting ashes were left outside.
“We just have to wait in here for a good long while and then they’ll come save us.” Grandma said soothingly.
Johnny was content to wait. This was quite interesting. Except…
“Grandma, do you have a toilet in your bag?”
______________________________________________________
More at r/MostlyNightmares | 2020-12-17T12:53:32 | 2020-12-17T12:33:49 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] In the style of Dr. Seuss explain a major event in human history. | Hello dear friends, lend me your ears,
let me tell you of a conflict that's gone on for years,
of families teared apart, amidst all the tears,
that caused a schism between foes and peers.
I'm not relaying this conflict to make you pick sides,
but for the hundreds of thousands who need somewhere to hide,
from bombs and rockets, whizz-booms and tanks,
who are running and screaming in Gaza and the West Bank.
Before you jump down my throat and call me anti-semetic,
I also think Hamas are rather pathetic,
They're more than willing to hide behind their own babies,
and direct Israeli fire to children and ladies,
And neither side has great elocution,
so we keep suggesting a two-state solution,
And we hope, fingers crossed, that we can free Palestine,
and Israel and Hamas will get along just fine,
but the real crime is the thousands who died,
to defend nothing more than sickening pride.
| The rain fell hard as if God himself had spat,
with a pitter and a pat
Noah pulled an idea out of his hat
"A boat! An ark! How about that!
I'll need some, wood, glue and electrically safe mat,
And then I'll bring my friends Mr. and Mrs. Cat, Rat, and Bat."
| 2014-08-10T00:32:41 | 2014-08-09T19:25:57 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] A drunk moves into a Haunted House that is desperately trying to scare him out...but he doesn't notice because he's always drunk. | 'Motherf-... (cough)'
A man stumbles through the door, steps over a dead dog and starts walking sideways into a wall.
"Motherf... dog's all burnt and shit, how the crazy bastard do that? How'd you do that dog? How you do that? Fuckin' wall"
The man stays against the wall for some time. He seems unable to move, and despite being the only person in the house he continues to talk aloud.
'How'd you do that? How'd he do that? He's even carved letters in his own face, wassat say... I MUST FEED!. The fuck? Must feed what? Fuckin' weird-ass scary dog, scary little stupid pooch. I should teach you a lesson, yeah, nail him, POW! Heh, biff baff boof! That'd show him... or maybe it's a her? What are you doggy, bitch or bastard? Nah that aint right... what's a male dog? How'd you do that poochy?'
At this point the man levers himself off the wall, and with all the grace of a blind, idiot rhino he stumbles forward and face-plants into the floor
'FU-OOOW! Fucking dog-bastard piece of shit that hurt, my nose is bleeding, fuck sake. Wassat, fucking walls bleeding too, shit the bed that's funny. Oooh I'm a fucking ghost making bleeding walls and shit. Listen here ghost, I ain't got nowhere else to be, so quit your shit. I ain't leaving, I didn't leave when you threw shit at me, you pansy. I didn't leave when you kept opening and shutting doors for some reason, and I ain't leaving now. I'm absolutely shitfaced here, and I am in no mood for you or your nonsense, no mood you hear me!?'
In response to the man's sudden and quite ridiculous change of emotion, the walls stop bleeding.
'Damn right, now I'm gonna go upstairs and sleep, so you can just shut the hell up!'
The man stands up and then sits down, topples sideways and lies staring straight ahead with one eye closed. As he watches, a lone white figure descends down the staircase towards him. Glowing with ethereal light the ghoul seems to hang in the air as it approaches; a vision of malevolance in motion.
The man stares at the vision moving hideously forward, and with the slightest of alarm, proceeds to vomit all over the floor in front of him. He rolls over, and starts snoring loudly.
The ghost stops, and a look of sadness passes across a female face.
She remembers dying in a life filled with joy. Two children, and dead giving birth to the third. She remembers holding on to this plain of existance, willing herself to remain for them, to shephard them. The newborn had died as well, but the other two had grown. She had watched her husband struggle and fail. Watched him starve to feed them, and watched the house dim from a place of colour to where she now resided.
Two suicides later and this was all she had now, the last of her family. A worn out drunk who begged, clinging to the house like a comfort blanket. It had fallen into disrepair when her husband could no longer afford the upkeep, and here it sat, foreclosure signs swaddling it from the night.
This man, her son, needed to leave. She needed him to leave behind his family and grow, to stand alone and be strong. She had tried to get him to leave, but it hadn't worked. Stubbornness was genetic she supposed. She knelt beside him, and stroked his hair, hand passing harmlessly through. He stirred, a ghost of a smile dancing across his lips.
She had stayed on to watch her family flourish, and seen it wither and die. She had to get him to leave it behind. She had to.
EDIT : Thanks for the gold, mysterious internet denizen! | "Out, out, out! I want him out!" The spectral figure exclaimed as he paced across the attic floor. "Jim, it's not that easy." Another responded, coming out from the wall in a long white dress, her throat slit. "All he does is drink and fall asleep. He's puked in MY wardrobe seven times! Seven times!"
The pacing ghost took form, a man in his late forties, in a white tank top and boxers, a bullet hole through his skull. "Jim, calm down, you're going to stress yourself to death." The woman retorted, giggling at the irony.
"For the love of God Claire, don't make me do that again to you," the man pointing at the slit throat, "this is serious!" His ghostly white fading away, he sat down in a chair. His hands on his face. "All, I.." He corrected himself as he glanced toward his estranged lover, "We.. wanted was to live here peacefully, but now HE is ruining it." The woman glided toward the man, "lets go and see where he is now, see what we can do." The Jim gave an audible groan, but he peered to Claire and nodded. They sunk through the floors to the den.
"There he is.. scum, fu.." Claire quickly interrupted the Jim with a "shh." They peered down into the den, and observed the man.
"Uhh.. Michelle.. how about you get me some of that.. uhh.. nice whiskey." The man drunkenly spouted out. "You see, why does he do that.. 'uhh..uhh..' does he have a stutter?" Jim mocked the living one, Claire quickly shh'd him again.
"Uhh.. Michelle, it is.. Imperative that you get me that GOD DAMN whiskey." The drunk shouted. A woman entering the room, "shut up." She hissed, "you'll wake Sasha." She continued her voice dropping into a tone of concern, "you ran for office, you had goals, aspirations, what happened?" The drunk responded, "uhh.. let me be clear.." he slurred, "I asked for whiskey not.. uhh.. conversation" The woman fumed, she paced out of the room, slamming the whiskey on the table.
The man stumbling up, locking the door behind her. "Time for that... uhh.. righteous bud." He pulled out a glass pipe and a container of skunky smelling plants from a drawer on his desk. He began packing the glass pipe, "make no mistake.. I'm about to get.. uhh.. ripped." He stuttered as he took the first hit.
"What.. WHAT IS THAT." Jim yelled, "NO NO NO, he is NOT smoking that in MY den." "Honey." "No Claire, this is it."
The ghostly man flew down from his perch near the ceiling, he quickly appeared in front of the drunk.. "I'm done. I'm done watching you puke. I'm done listening to you talk about healthcare. I'm done hearing about that election. I'm done watching you ruin the integrity of this.." Jim stopped, snoring came from the chair. The drunk had fallen asleep, pipe still in hand.
Claire materialized next to him, "come on, honey. You can try again next time." Jim sighed, floating back up through the ceiling. "The Mormon would have been easier." | 2014-10-17T12:18:55 | 2014-10-17T11:59:11 | 317 | 17 |
[WP] Every year on your Birthday you receive a list of Objectives. If you fail to meet a certain number of them you are forced back in time to said Birthday. Your most recent Birthday the list simply said "Survive". It's been 40 resets since. | Years and years spent obbeying to this list.
Take all good grades, take a degree, get a job, get marry to a woman...
And no way to refuse.
But now it's time.
Years and years to be someone this list wanted and not myself, have turned me into a zombie. A depresed person with auto-pilot mode on.
So when I read "survive" and nothing else, I undrrstood it was to prevent my suicide. At first I was so pissed.
But then I undrrstood the potential.
Right now, every time I wake up, I just start over my year doing all the stuff I could not do before. I live the childhood I didn't have, explore all relationships both sexual and not, eat all the food I want....
Sometimes I push too hard and die. Sometimes I admit, I make sure to miss this only thing I have to do on pourpouse.
Whoever is controlling me has given me the best birthday present: infinite life respawn.
And I love to immagine that it is Trapped with me and desperate. | "This is a joke right?" I thought. I'm a healthy, young adult who doesn't make enemies or stupid mistakes, how could I possibly fail?
Two months passed and my country has officially declared war on our neighbors, and of course I was drafted.
I don't know why we thought we could beat countries twice our size, but we tried, and died.
It seemed like they were always one step ahead, but after countless deaths, many of them my own, we reached a cease fire and peace would soon return. "Finally I can move on with my life."
This peace would be short however as now not only would I have to survive a war, but 6 mile meteorite. | 2022-05-06T01:48:12 | 2022-05-06T00:49:02 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] “You’re not allowed to die, okay?” She makes you promise, tears still flowing down her face. That was 200 years ago now. You don’t know what she did but your promise still holds strong. | It had been two hundred years since she whispered those words in my ear.
"You aren't allowed to die, okay?" It resonated when she said it and we stayed together till old age. She died. I grew older. I fell asleep one day and woke up as a spry twenty something. The face in the mirror stared back at me. I lost her. But. But, life continued.
I visited her grave often. Tears streaming across my face. There was never anyone else I was alone the whole time. 150 years is a long time... A fucking shitty time.
I'm sitting by her grave now. I've been here a day and my tears have run dry. I can finally read the head stone. Caitlyn Jones. 1987-2028.
The next line changed everything. 'don't wait too long to find me again.' I fell to my knees and my eyes closed for the last time | Why the fuck am I still alive?
I made that promise. That's why.
But then I lost her.
I lost everyone.
Why am I still alive?
Maybe I don't have to be.
Hopefully not much longer.
I can just barely grasp the gun.
I can just barely pull the trigger.
And, just for a moment...
I can see her face. | 2018-01-05T14:21:15 | 2018-01-05T14:07:04 | 35 | 16 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | The whole neighbourhood was out in the streets staring skyward; dressed in robes and wrapped in blankets. The bright white light made them appear as stone sentinels against the snow.
“Mummy, the moon is so big!”
My phone buzzed urgently in my hand. I set it on the nightstand facedown
“Grab your jacket lily,” I wrapped my housecoat tight against me and zipped Lily into her parka.
The light was brilliant; almost fluorescent. It radiated off the snow like an aura.
Lilly stood breathless on the driveway, her face wide with wonder. I wished i could always see her like this; so wonderful.
“It’s a beautiful night,” my neighbour commented with her children cradled to her breast.
I nodded and looked skyward at the fantastic beacon against the night. It was moving, falling from the sky.
“ Mom, why are you crying?”
I wiped my eyes and held Lily’s shoulders tightly.
“It’s just so beautiful baby. I love you”.
All was calm as the bomb cracked on the horizon and spilled over; swallowing everything.
| I toss in my sleep-- there's a loud buzzing ringing in my left ear, and my eyes flicker open to reveal my phone: vibrating with it's receivance of hundreds of messages. "Holy shit, is that my Discord app again? I swear to god I put it on fucking silent." I grumble, and my hands fumble for the volume rockers. Without a few seconds of effort, my phone is back on silent, and the buzzing stops. I go back the fuck to bed. The creepypasta bullshit can wait, I'm tired as shit. | 2022-11-14T21:59:08 | 2018-04-06T19:48:33 | 45 | 13 |
[WP] Humanity discovers that supernatural creatures such as vampires and werewolves exist. Instead of attempting to exterminate them, some countries attempt to offer them lucrative jobs that they could do better than a human. | Karen walked up the spiraling steps in the modern centre until she reached the floor of the building that was crowded with law offices, realtors, and other small whiteish collar workplaces. Approaching the door with only a simple nameplate ‘Kaka Dental Practice’, she stuttered before opening the door.
“So this is what a vampires’ office looks like ... I thought it would be darker and with ... blood.” She thought to herself.
“What! No, why would a dentist want blood and a dark operating area? I run a legitimate business.” Remarked A voice from behind the door.
“What? You can really read minds?!” Karen responded back in astonishment.
“Yes, of course, we can, that’s why I’m a dentist ... no we can’t, you muttered that to yourself so loudly we all heard it. Come in, you’re my 4 o’clock, Karen isn’t it?”
Walking into the lobby, she noted that it was a fairly normal dentists office, although with a plate of donuts instead of floss. The doctor was a young adult male, of pale yet toned build, with a semi-noticeable fang, and an even more noticeable hair. She was motioned into a room after waiting five mins and sat down on the operating chair. The dentist walked in carrying a tray of equipment.
Karen looked at it and said, “So .., Dr. acula? What am I in for today?”
The dentist responded with an annoyed look and tone “Araragi, Dr. Araragi. It’s not that funny.” Karen looked away in horror after realizing what she said.
He continued on, “anyways, you're here for a routine cleaning, nothing else really.”
“Ok” she responded
“Let’s begin” he went.
Dr. Araragi took out the instruments, including picks and brushes. He started with scraping plaque from her teeth. It was boring and over in a second. The rest of the checkup was the same. Almost done, he had a menacing brush in his hand, with thistles in an area of a finger covering it.
She looked at it, and paused “Soooo, what’s with the brush?”
“It’s a new one, state of the art. Designed by a whole wing at MIT. It’s said to work amazingly”
As he slid the brush into her mouth and started motioning back and forth, she was amazed. Each brush of a bristle felt like her teeth were being power washed.
“Arghhgh” her mouth went as they were invaded by the cutting edge toothbrush.
“I’ve heard it feels nice,” Araragi said after noticing her not discomfort.
Soon, her teeth felt clean and the appointment was over, but still, she had a question.
“So, why did you become a dentist, Araragi? Seems weird for a vampire.”
He sighed, looked at her, and said.
“Because I like dentistry. Why do you like the dentist? I like to see clean teeth.”
And embarrassed for asking another dumb question, and done with her appointment, she went home.
---
For more tales from the Storyverse, check out /r/araragi | This is the third time this week. After all the unanswered letters, the messages, the unanswered phone calls. They've actually come knocking on my door.
I refuse to answer. If I just wait they'll leave. If I...
"Mr. Wyatt, we know you're in there. Please open the door. We just want to talk to you."
The hell you do, I thought bitterly. They're just baiting me to call back, they don't really know I'm in. The lights are all off for a reason!
"Mr. Wyatt. Please be reasonable. You're only delaying the inevitable."
I'd call the cops but after that stupid supernatural integration program they'll just call me a specist and put the call on youtube or something.
God! If it wasn't so dangerous outside after curfew I'd make a run for it. But it is, I just have to wait it out here. They can't break in, even for them it's a felony.
"Mr. Wyatt this is your last warning. You have until the count of three to open this door. ONE!"
I feel my heart pounding and attempting to leap out of my chest. No way, they wouldn't...
"TWO!"
Fuck! Monsters! They totally would! My gun, I need my gun!
"TREE!"
The door flew open, the solid wood dresser I broke my back pushing to block it was tossed to the side like a flimsy IKEA piece.
I closed my eyes and shot blindly. The noise was deafening and I think I broke something on the recoil.
"Mr. Wyatt. Please, shooting in residential areas are discouraged. Please come, we are all waiting for you outside in the van."
I opened my eyes, I can clearly see the light from the hallway through the hole in his shoulder yet his face just looks annoyed.
"Monster! Stay away from me! You can't do this to me. FREAK! GET AWAY!" My voice gets shriller and I raise my gun again.
I didn't even see him move. He was besides me and with one swift movement my gun clattered to the floor. The metallic sound ringing the end.
"Mr. Wyatt do refine from ruining my suit any further. Really now, must we go through this every single time? It's just the mandory blood tax. It's not like we'll suck you dry."
He smiled baring his fangs. That joke wasn't funny the first time, it's not going to be now. I scream and they drag me to the blood tax collection van kicking all the way... same as the previous time, and the time before that, and the time before that.
God damn the IRS!!! | 2018-08-27T15:13:21 | 2018-08-27T14:46:19 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] Your personal guardian angel from heaven is very upset with you. It's not because you did something wrong. It's because you're an extremely boring person to watch over. | An accountant. Why did you have to be an accountant?
And not even a “I have fun on the weekends because I’m cooped up in a cubicle all week” accountant. But just a boring little toad of a person, who doesn’t need me for anything because you never go anywhere where you could be endangered.
I mean, sure, you ride the bus. But Saint Christopher is on that watch. And God help you if you step on his toes… Man, that guy can pitch a fit.
You though! You don’t even go out after dark, for ANYHTING. You even regularly inspect your kitchen appliances, and cut your food up into small enough bits that you can’t choke.
Please, don’t get me wrong. I am glad that you are safe. It would break my heart if anything were to harm you. But you just sit at home every waking minute of the day when you aren’t at work, or fetching more things that enable you to stay home.
You know what you are? I think I just figured it out. Have you ever watched paint dry?
THAT’S YOU! Gloppy, half dried paint. Just sitting there. Existing. I know that if I look away, a bug will land on you and ruin everything. So I just have to wait. And stare. And watch you be… sad.
That is the worst part. MY boredom is bad enough. But you’re not even happy or content. You’re just scared.
Scared of the world, and what it might do to you. You act like I’m not even here. Like you can’t trust me to do my job. I’m honestly starting to worry that if I don’t get you out of this box you call an apartment, there might come a day when you give up. When you succumb to the one danger that you don’t know how to avoid.
Look at you. Walking down the steps to your mailbox. Avoiding eye contact with everyone, including the guy in 4C. You two could be great friends, but you won’t risk it. “What if he doesn’t like me? What if he laughs at me? What if it doesn’t work out and I have to see him in the halls every day?” All your worries...
You know what? Fuck you. \*smack\*
Oh, would you look at that. Your mail is all over the floor, and Mr. 4C is helping you pick it up. Oh no, he’s talking to you. What do you do now!?!
Enjoy your chaos. I’m tired of letting you hide. | Today will be the day. The hole in the ceiling has gotten larger and the lockdown has prevented you from going to your part time. Yes, today will be the day. The clouds began to shower the house with a light drizzle as a warning to the girl. The amber haired student living alone in this abandoned house who has never done a bad thing in her life, will finally concede. The girl as tall as 170 cm and weighs 1-
“Hold on a second, don’t mention my weight.”
“You finally talk to me after ignoring me all day?”
“Well I had earbuds in, so you were tuned out. Besides... you made me mad.”
“I can’t believe I’m being ignored by a mere human. Honestly you should be grateful to be in my presence. Not everyone gets a personal angel you know? As well as the most humble and prettiest one.”
“...”
“Hey do you hear me?”
“...”
“Hey! Alice! Angel to Alice!”
“...”
“Weighing 7-“
“You’re noisy!”
“And you’re boring! Why don’t you get into some trouble or rob a bank.”
“Rob a bank?” Alice looked at me with interest.
“Fufu. Well you need to fix the roof right? So-“
Alice put her earbuds back in and continued to tap tap on her phone. I grew a smug grin on my face and began to laugh.
“Too shocked to hear such a wonderful plan? Doesn’t it make you want to rob a bank now? Eh? Eh?”
Without looking up from her phone, Alice uttered one word.
“Idiot.”
“...”
And thus today was unfortunately, not the day.
The end.
If you read this thank you! I’m trying out how to write better dialogue and make it feel alive you know? I’m still learning so if you got tips will be appreciated.✌️✌️ | 2020-04-22T01:22:14 | 2020-04-21T20:59:07 | 51 | 32 |
[WP] Germany is actually predestined to lose every world war it participates in. The sixteenth world war is now being fought, and Germany has taken over all of Europe. Make them lose the war in the most ridiculous way possible. | _So, we've been informed that you were the janitor on shift when it happened. Care to share what you saw?_
Well, it all happened so fast. I mean, I've thought about it and I think I know what happened. I've put some pieces of conversation and orders together and have a general idea.
_Well, please continue_
They were celebrating, see? Something about destroying a brand new Ford class carrier...
_Yes, we saw that_
And so the officers and general were all celebrating in their situation room. To give you some idea of the level of Adolphus' paranoia, he has an open order that if he were to be betrayed, every high person that was near him is to be killed. He was mad.
_Mad you say? We could use that in anti-propaganda_
It doesn't matter now! See, while they were celebrating, someone got their hands on some really good wine. French wine. And then someone got hold of brandy, another had scotch, vodka, you name it. It was wild... or so it sounded like it. It wasn't even an hour before Adolphus passed out.
_An hour?!_
He doesn't hold his liquor very well. Shouldn't have mixed drinks that one...
_Well, continue please [snickering]_
So, his head of the SS produced a pistol off his holster and claimed to have stolen from an American soldier. And he fired it into the ceiling... and then...
_And then?_
Guards rushed into when they heard the gunshot, and saw Adolphus lying in the ground and saw the smoking gun, and well, they assumed the worst. And so they killed all generals and officers. All 128 of them.
_You're lying. That's hilarious! And Adolphus?_
Alcohol poisoning.
_Well, that was easy_ | The year is 2198. The entire world has seen 15 world wars. All of which Germany has participated... and... err... lost. Y-yeah... they lost 15 times. This the 16th war, and everyone expects Germany to lose. People aren't taking Germany seriously anymore. Many keep joking about Germany.
But it looks like things will change now. Germany has actually taken over Europe and is starting to invade other parts. Their military...has... uhhh... haven't changed much... but it seems they're winning...And I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing. Well, I'm just a POW.. and they're about to kill me
Year 2199 and Germany is still winning. They've taken over Asia now. My execution was delayed...and now is the time for me to die...
Then all of a sudden every tank I could see just exploded. All planes crashed. And all ships sunk.
The reason why?? The dumbass lead mechanic/builder forgot to put a number 4 and a few **VERY INSIGNIFICANT** details on the blueprint. Without that stuff, well... everything would blow up.
I laughed my ass off at the explosion. I laughed so fucking hard I pissed myself. Germany lost again. But the machines exploded. Not the infantry. While I was laughing, they...errr...just shot me. | 2017-08-18T02:27:56 | 2017-08-18T02:09:31 | 2,100 | 15 |
[WP] "We have ancient elven magic, and even the dwarves have their ugly mountain forts. What do YOU have, human?!" "Napalm, and high-explosives, mostly..." *grumbling beard in the background* "....our forts are aesthetically pleasing though..." | --REUNION--
The eyes of the seven stare daggers at me.
"We Aelvankind wield the old magick." Speaks one of the seven. A hauty tone underlies the elegant musicality of its voice
"And the Dwarves are unmatched in their skill with hammer and stone.. graceless as their mountain forts may be."
"Graceless!?" Chimes a new voice, "Why, our structures are renowned for their beauty, we are.."
"Not now, Hammerfrock!". The arrogant voice interrupts. "I wish to hear the testimony of this... _diplomat_... before you begin your blathering."
His eyes turn back to me. Narrowed, like a predator ready to pounce
"Tell me, son of men - what have you? What have you that our magic cannot strike down? That the hammers of our Dwarf cousins cannot break? That the teeth of our Ogre slaves cannot rend? What have you that our Covenant cannot cleanse from this world?"
I blink.
"I have come to you as a diplomat, Grand adjudicator"
I speak as calmly as I can. Mine is possibly the most important diplomatic mission in human history.
"I do not come to threaten your covenant. We humans wish only to understand you. To understand your peoples, your ways, your history. We.."
"We have no time for human lies. We obliterated your kind once already. We stopped your heretical machinations and saved our homeworld. Now you appear again, and we are to believe you do not seek war? War is your way. It is in your very souls. It is so now, as it was eons ago."
I blink again. There it is again. This nonsense about wiping us out. About some ancient war. This politician is hell bent on war speak. Maybe playing along is the right call. Maybe a bit of bluster will earn me some respect here.
"We know of no such war, grand adjudicator.. but you are not wrong that war is a part of who we are. We have bullets, tanks, napalm, fighter jets and battle ships. We have the power to turn forests to ash in seconds, to flatten nations in minutes. Our weapons can choke the sky and boil the oceans. They can melt the flesh from the bones of a million men in the blink of an eye."
I take a quick breath. Is this the right approach? I hope so. I feel sweat beading on my forehead
"I assure you, Grand Adjudicator...We humans are no strangers to war. While I'm certain your magick and your weapons can hurt us... I am also certain we have nothing to fear from you. Which is why you must believe that we have no Ill intent. We are here to speak with you. We seek peace and cooperation. We have much to share, as I am certain you do."
A pregnant pause. Eyes flit, meeting across the room. Pondering. Wondering. Some are curious. Some are concerned. Some are angry. | "But look! That aesthetically pleasing fort of yours is so flimsy that a single dragon fire breath sent it to smithereens," the elf huffed. "It will only please your eyes, but it cannot save your lives. What else do the humans have?"
The filthy man glanced at his tattered clothes and at the ruins of the city laid bare before him, scratching his beard almost in a daze. He had a faraway look on his eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was hushed. "Humans are resilient. We always have been."
"Yes, yes," the elf agreed. "Like roaches," he added with disdain.
"Alvor! What are you doing?" A female elf hissed when she spotted the two. She took quick strides and planted herself in between them, staring down at the younger elf.
Alvor did not back down and instead met her gaze. "I was having a conversation with that peasant."
She narrowed her eyes. "Peasant, you say?" She smiled, and it sent shivers down the young elf's spine. "I distinctly recall the king detesting any elves, especially of royal descent, who bully those that are weaker than oneself. I have a few guesses to what Father would do if he were to know how you're acting right now."
Alvor gritted his teeth but smartly bit back his snarky remarks and kept his mouth shut. Alyana may not be a part in the succession of the throne, but she was still a princess and she was older than him by a good few hundred years. He walked away muttering darkly to himself, all the while glaring at any humans on his path.
Alyana sighed and turned to the human. "Apologies. He already lived for a whole century but his mind remains that of a five year old. The Elven Kingdom will provide assistance to the Human Realm. Fret not, for our King will protect and help humanity get back on its feet."
The human smiled, his jaded eyes showing grief. "Humans are resilient, but we will gratefully accept all the help we could get."
Alyana smiled, and the human was ushered to a medical tent so the elves could tend to his wounds. She could still remember the billowing fire that ravaged the city, leaving nothing but coal and smoke in its wake. Hundreds and thousands of lives were lost to this tragedy, and not even their ancient elven magic could stop the fire.
There was something sinister at play; the dragons going berserk, ancient artifacts missing, the merfolk retreating deep into the seas. There were a lot of questions that needed answers, and Alyana intend to find them all. | 2019-02-03T21:01:51 | 2019-02-03T14:05:59 | 292 | 212 |
[WP] You are a manipulative psychopath, but instead of serial killer, you are a serial helper. using your emotionless genius to make other people smile.
thankless, un-noticed but instrumental in paying off someones debts with a clever robin hood of some sort, or moving at breakneck speeds everyday to help others but letting yourself wither and your life fall apart because of how addicted you are to helping. i believe in you guys!
EDIT: Can't a guy sleep for a few hours without something random hitting the front page! (obligatory because its my first time as a 3 year lurker) Also: Absolutely fantastic responses ;~; i <3 you guys | I once tried to torture an animal as a child. It was the neighbor's puppy that had wandered into my backyard. The curious little animal was barely a few months old, and still viewed the world with a childlike innocence. As it meandered up to me, I thought of how this small creature responded to everything. It responded to the hole in the fence by slipping its chubby body through, it responded to the grass with a light nibble, and it responded to the match I had lit by rearing backwards and cocking its head, its floppy ears perked outward. I brought the match closer to the puppy; it was nothing malicious, you see, I was no more curious than the puppy was. I simply wanted to see what would happen. I buried the lit match into the puppy's fur, and it yelped loudly as the match fizzed out and left a black spot on its white fur.
An interesting experiment, now let's try something else.
I picked up the puppy and brought it inside. I've seen what makes this puppy fear, now how could I mend that fear, and make it trust me again? I found a washcloth, ran it under the cold water at the kitchen sink, and washed the burn I had just inflicted. The puppy writhed a little, in a mix of shock from the sudden cold and relief from the burn. This was a lot more interesting to me. That night, the puppy slept at the foot of my bed with me, by its own will. In my limited worldview at the time, I had created a bond with this animal, this *thing*, and now it adored me.
The next morning as I woke, I heard the neighbor boy calling out. Snowy! He shouted, each repeat of the name more grief filled and desperate than the last. I saw this as the perfect opportunity for another experiment. I called out to the boy, no older than I was, and told him I found his dog. No sooner had I opened the front door, the puppy raced out and into the weeping boy's arms. "You found him! You found him! Thank you so much!" He cried as the puppy licked his tears from his face. Throughout the entirety of the ordeal, I didn't shed a single tear, but I was fascinated. If I could influence the bonds not only between myself and *things*, but between *things* and other people, and as an end result make those people happier, I saw no reason to not continue doing just that.
I derive no pleasure from helping people like this. But I know that others do, and from that I continue doing, just from the knowledge that someone is better off for it. | Why did I approach them?
I'm not sure myself.
I didn't really care about their emotions, or their recovery. I just always found myself drifting towards them. Lonely souls, the ones crying on the barstools or into the gutters, those were the ones who I targeted, their sadness luring me like a magnet.
I sat there and I listened to their stories, some darker than others. And I'd sit, and I'd nod, and I'd give them a chance to talk.
Some didn't appreciate my help.
I started bringing a handgun after one of them threatened to attack me. I don't remember what kind of sidearm it is, I didn't pay attention when the smiling woman behind the counter asked me to fill out the forms.
Yesterday I approached a particularly mopey one.
He took my gun away from me and shot himself.
I'd never had that happen before, never had one of them kill themselves in front of me. I might see them walk off with a noose of rope in hand, or a bottle of the pills they intended to use, but never directly in front me before.
He changed my thinking.
Next time I'll need to keep a tighter grip on my gun, and maybe get some form of bulletproof vest. I've never inquired into purchasing such thing before, so I have no idea how difficult it will be to get one.
I don't know why I keep finding myself attracted to the sad ones, the Lonely Souls.
Maybe I feel a ghostly shadow of emotion from them, a shadow I can't find on my own.
Those poor shells of humans allow me to feel a sense of normalcy, at least, before I help them move onwards.
It is a great comfort to me that I know they won't have to feel such dreadful things after I finish talking to them.
Now, as I walk up to the girl with her tear stained face, crying into her drink, I think to myself, "How will I help send her forwards? How can I convince her outside and to move onwards? Will I give her pills? A noose of knotted rope?"
Or maybe I'll allow her to use the gun, but I'd rather save that in case she tries to deny my help.
Edit: Words | 2015-05-21T07:27:11 | 2015-05-21T07:21:46 | 80 | 57 |
[WP] You lost your sight - along with everyone else on Earth - in The Great Blinding. Two years later, without warning, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor and surface has been painted with the same message - Don't Tell Them You Can See. | I stilled dreamed of seeing.
I think that's why I initially snoozed my alarm clock instead of gasping for joy. But as I rolled back over to look at my wife lying next to me, I did gasp. Not for joy, but out of shock. On the wall behind Kathrine a message had been hastily painted on the wall.
\-DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE-
"What's wrong?" Katherine said groggily but alarmed. Her vacant stare reminding me that for the last 2 years I have been blind.
I am unable to respond as the realization of what is happening has not fully dawned on me.
"Jim?!" she now sounds more awake and even more concerned. She flails out her arms searching for me and when her hand rest on my shoulder I have regained enough composure to speak.
"N-nothing." I stammer. "Just had a nightmare."
The tension in her face eases as her hand glides up to my face and leans in for a kiss.
"you had me worried." She sighs. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." I respond quietly, still trying to get my bearings.
I sit up and look around the room growing more confused and horrified as I do. On every available surface I can see the same message has been painted.
\-DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE-
The paint is obviously not new, as it has slightly faded from a bright red, to a more rusted maroon. I also see the guide rod we have been using to navigate the new home we were given a year after the great blinding took place. The room looked very different from how I dreamed of it. It seemed smaller and dust has settled on all the surfaces that were not regularly used. As I took in the first glimpses of the room I have spent the last year in, growing more uneasy as I read the same message over and over, I felt a hand on the small of my back. I gave a startled yelp and nearly jumped out of bed.
"Must have been a bad one." Kathrine giggled from behind me. "Sure you don't want to talk about it?"
"Maybe later." I mumbled.
I turned to face her and was overcome with emotion. In 2 years she hasn't changed much. Her chestnut hair was longer than I remembered it and was haphazardly strewn around her. Her soft smile showed a few more smiles lines around the corners of her mouth. The eyes were the biggest difference. They looked glossed over and unfocused, the rich brown covered with a grayish haze. I felt a pang of sadness and guilt wash over me as I stared at those eyes. The mixture of joy and grief became too much and I excused myself to go to the bathroom.
As I stood up to leave, I finally noticed the dark amorphous shape in the corner and stopped with my breath caught in my throat. It wavered on the edges as if it were pulsing or breathing. It seemed to be pulling in the light around it further obscuring it from my sight. I reached out to steady myself on the guide rod and as I did, the shaped slithered into the bathroom.
"Hurry up," Kathrine complained, "I need to go too." | You wake up, and for the first time in years, you feel the pain of bright light on your eyes. *Wait, light?!* you jump out of your bed and close the green curtains on your window.
'Oh my God. I-I can-" you immediately stop talking as you look on your wall and see writing in neat, red marker,
"Don't tell them you can see. Act like everything is normal. Carry out your day as usual." Following the strange writing you decide not to shout it to the rooftops like you thought of, but open the door to your bathroom. On the mirror, in the same, neat writing,
"Nothing has changed. Pretend to be blind." you start to feel uneased, scared if someone is in your apartment. You slowly exit your bathroom, grab some non-safety scissors, and search the kitchen, your small office, and the living room. In each room you see more of the writing, telling you to not change anything in your daily life, to act natural; in every room the writings become more frequent, more aggressive, and more insistent that you should never reveal this recovery to anyone, even the people you trust the most. No one is in your apartment, that for sure, but one thing is certain:
In the last two years, someone was, and you had no idea.
"DING DONG!" rings the doorbell, snapping you out of this unnerving thought. You travel to your intercom, and say:
"Who is it?"
"It's James, duh!" Ah, yes. James, your best friend since college and your co-worker at Roy Industries, a company that started in manufacturing, specializing in disability aides such as: canes, hearing aides, wheelchairs, and stair-lifts, and after the Great Blinding, with everyone needing their products, grew into a ginormous cooperation that has a stake in almost every industry; everyone has heard of them, and most rely on Roy In. for their paycheck as well. You work in the admistrative section of the company, and so does John, you often walk to work together, as motor vehicles became too dangerous after The Great Blinding. Sure, it takes a while, but you live in the city, so at least it's not too bad of a commute; some people had to quit their jobs or move so they could work after the loss of an entire sense. Luckily, you lived close enough to not have to change your home/job, and so did John.
"You ready to go?" John asked.
"What? Oh, sure. Let me just get my cane."
Will write more soon, I just wanted to get the beginning on paper. (or, should I say, computer) Anyway, see you soon! | 2022-10-15T03:24:04 | 2019-08-26T09:40:50 | 52 | 17 |
[WP] A level superheroes protect the universe, B level superheroes protect the Galaxy, C level superheroes protect the Earth and so on. You are a Z level superhero. You protect...a single street in a small village. | This is my street. No, I don’t technically own it or anything – private drives are for people with a whole lot more money than I have. This lovely stretch or road was assigned to me by our governing body, the International Council of Super Heroes, twenty-two years ago. You see, the ICSH is ran by a council of elders who utilize a tremendous AI, that was developed by Wayne Industries, to rank heroes by natural ability, aptitude and society's needs. Some of them are massively powerful or frighteningly smart, and get the big jobs. You know, fighting off extraterrestrial threats; maintaining the space-time continuum; preventing nuclear holocaust; et cetera. Not me, though. I’m plenty smart, but I am not all that powerful: I am a little faster than the average human, I can see in the dark a little better, and I am a superb judge of character. Once I started discovering my powers, I had dreams of defending the cosmos from nefarious entities. That allegedly brilliant AI didn’t agree with my dreams and gave me the score of Z. My heart was broken until I arrived here.
I was assigned to Indian Paintbrush Ave, here in Bairoil, Wyoming. Ever heard of it? Probably not. There is nobody in Wyoming, so a town of ninety-nine people might as well not exist. It is sparse here, dry and hot in the summer. In the winter it snows so damn much. I’m from Pensacola, and frankly I hate this snow and the lack of water. The mountains are nice, though. You want to know what keeps me at my post, here in the middle of nowhere? The people. On IPA, as I cleverly like to call my road, there are about fifty people spread across twenty-eight houses and a shed that I’m pretty sure that someone is squatting in. For these people, I’m important to the community, and I’d never have it any other way.
You see, normally I’d be here to fight crime or guard school kids as they get off the bus. The thing is, there is basically no crime here, and the whole town has like five children who are of elementary school age. Instead, I serve my street and people however I can. It was last November, for example, when I helped save the life of old Toby Jones. He’d had a heart attack and no pulse, but the nearest hospital is way over in Casper. Had I not been fully trained in CPR and my superpower of having 10% more stamina than the average man, Toby would have died by the time Medvac arrived. Oh, and there was that time where the Ferris Mountain wildfire was threatening the town. Everyone had left Bairoil due to the evacuation, except for Jamie Harris and her disabled aunt. They had no place to go, but I had connections. Thanks to my membership in the ICSH, I was able to score a sweet five percent discount at the Motel 6 up in Jeffrey City, and provide safe refuge for Jamie and her Aunt Mildred.
Most of my days aren’t that eventful, to be honest. I actually spend most of my time shoveling driveways and sidewalks in the winter, sweeping the dust in the summer and just shooting the breeze with the townsfolk. I may be assigned to only IPA, but this whole community has welcomed me, embraced me, and accepted me as one of their own. They even started calling me “Captain Bairoil,” a nickname that I might just use as my official title registered with the ICSH. To tell you the truth, I was very disappointed to be sent here. It was hard to go from the sunny, warm climate of Florida to the harsh weather of central Wyoming. The mountains are austere and beautiful, but I miss the sea and palm trees. But you know what? I’m glad they sent me here. This place has become home, and this community is now my community. I love it here and hope to never leave. | The Carlisle Cat had been counted out more times than a young child’s piggy bank, but still he remained vigilant. Determined. He would become a great superhero one day; he only needed the chance to show his prowess. He could hear his Stoic idol, Seneca, in his mind: “No man is more unhappy than he who never faces adversity. For he is not permitted to prove himself.” The only problem was, his jurisdiction was currently confined to Carlisle Street, Garden City. One street... This was befitting of an entry level superhero of Class Z but provided far too little opportunity for the Cat to showcase his talents.
The only reason this whole superhero bureaucracy came to be was because of that “Defund the Police” movement, seemingly ages ago. They tried having a neighborhood watch at first, but that turned out to be an ineffective policing method. Then the idea of having superheroes as civil protectors was proposed. The first superheroes were so strong and fearsome that the motion to have them police the United States was passed unanimously. Soon after it became apparent that there weren’t *enough* superheroes. The superheroes were holding the front but were working too much attempting to respond to every crime in the country! How could roughly one hundred heroes replace all of the police in the vastness of the United States? *Put one of ‘em on every street corner,* some pro-superhero strategist suggested and here we are.
The Cat didn’t even have aspirations of becoming a Class A or B superhero. The problems on Earth could surely satisfy his ambition. He didn’t have any superpowers, unfortunately, but he did have heart. Even perhaps, becoming the superhero of Garden City would be enough for him. *Garden City Giant. No, Garden City Guardian. That’s the one,* he dreamed. *That’s way better than the current Garden City Slugger.*
The fact was most Class Z superheroes amounted to nothing. They knew that the superheroes that patrolled the blocks were more powerful that themselves, mere street protectors, so surely, they weren’t needed. *Heck, the Class Y’s could respond faster than myself anyway,* they think. Unfortunately, block heroes tend to think that district heroes (Class X’s) would pick up *their* slack if they were negligent in their duties. In this way, the heroes at the higher levels of the bureaucracy were much busier.
In Garden City, the Slugger was the city’s Champion. He was a shotgun wielding whiz. Rubber bullets… most of the time. If you posed a real threat, the Slug had no problem chewing through you with his namesakes. This Champion had been picking up the slack of his constituents for *years.* It was evident by the amount of times you’d see his name in the headlines. News feeds were virtually clogged with photos, videos and articles relating to the Slugger’s latest arrests.
The Cat would sometimes listen to news podcasts to get the details on the Slugger’s daily busts. One news show rang a bell in the Cat’s mind. The bell of calling.
“Slugger has turned rogue and is at large! Moments ago, Garden City Slugger killed a drug dealer and user at the scene of an illegal transaction. When the District Defenders; Queenston Queen, Marsdale Sphinx and Meriton Myrmidon approached to subdue him, he gunned them…”
The Cat didn’t hear the rest because he was running to that tolling bell. That chance that he’d always been waiting for. | 2020-07-28T12:51:28 | 2020-07-28T12:43:01 | 63 | 19 |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | He stared at the ceiling of the hospital room unable to quite drink in what his mother had just said. A difficulty slider? And why would she be so cruel to max it out? He had barely scraped by high school, and been forced to leave his job as a mechanic. He had depression, anxiety, and intrusive thoughts. He couldn't even commit to a single possible career.
"I'll be setting it to novice now," his mother said. The words wounded his pride. "I should have seen the signs that you couldn't handle this after they let you go." A knife twisted in the wound.
It was a week before the doctors deemed him fit to go home. His hands were starting to move like they did before he had been admitted. His mother picked him up and the drive home was silent. He resented that someone he had trusted had been so needlessly cruel. They got into the house and she showed him his slider. He tried to adjust it just one notch down, he could handle that much he was sure, but it seemed only she could interact with it.
"Only the summoner can touch it," She said, "and only one person has permission to summon it at a time. I'll give it to you once you get your life together."
He hadn't expected the immediate changes as she slid the slider down and dispelled it. Immediately he shrank two inches. It felt like falling. He notice his shirt start to tent out as a pressured grew on his chest. It wasn't long before he had two fully formed breasts. He felt similar sensations all over her body as her proportions shifted and he became female.
He couldn't quite comprehend what had happened. Even with the slight boost to intelligence. He had been told his whole life that women have it harder, so why was he a girl now? He acted horrified at the changes. His mother couldn't even explain why it had happened. He excused himself to his room saying he was going to do research.
He closed the door and slumped to the ground. He wasn't really horrified this had happened to him. His head was spinning with the change, but it wasn't cloudy by an oncoming panic attack, or even just the usual haze of depression. He had wanted something like this his whole life. He knew about trans people, but he had been unable to draw the line between them and his desire to be a woman. After he liked girls!
*Fine if I'm a woman then I'll need a name*, she thought. Perhaps Zoe. She was nervous and excited for the future, for the first time ever. But before she could truly begin making plans she wanted to get a look at her self in the mirror. Her baggy old boy clothes did a lot to hide her form, but she thought she was pretty naturally cute. She didn't think she had been unattractive as a guy, but she knew she'd be much happier to see this face in the mirror for the rest of her life.
She wondered what life would be like on easy. Would it get boring? She knew that she'd deal with that if turning up the difficulty would take away her womanhood.
edit: if this describes a fantasy you have then please feel free to message me about that. | I couldn't believe that I did it. Something that was just wishful thinking till yesterday was suddenly a reality. Something that was so incomprehensibly difficult till yesterday was like a child's play today. And in a way, it was.
"Look Ma, I did it" I tapped my Mom's shoulder and proudly showed her my shoes. I had tied the strings myself. Just like she did till yesterday. They formed the perfect little knots, like a flower.
My mom said she was so proud of me. She even gave me a cookie. Before dinner! I went to my dad's office. He doesn't like to be disturbed but I thought he would want to hear the good news. Boy was I right. He took eyes of his computer when I called him and actually got off from his chair and ruffled my hair. He said I was on my way of becoming the man of the house. I smiled all the way to my room. I went to my closet. I wanted to try all of them on my own.
But first, I had to take the ones I was wearing. I was scared that the first time was just a fluke and I may not be able to tie them back again. I mustered some courage that I never knew I had and pulled the strings. They came out perfectly. Now I tried on my favorite shoes, the one with cars on them. I took the strings and didn't even have to think about Bunny ears and what goes where. My hand just made the knot. It was magical. I went to my Mom again and showed her. She was visibly excited as me. She looked at me for a while and gave me a kiss on my forehead. no cookie this time but I will take that. I went again to dad's office. He just muttered 'good job' this time. And good job it was. I have never seen such perfect knots on such perfect shoes. I spent the entire evening trying different shoes. I even went for a walk in the yard to see if they come off. None of them did. I took out all of my shoes and began cleaning them as from now on I can wear whichever shoe I want. I was so busy I didn't hear Mum call me for dinner. I only realized it was dinner time when she tapped me up and ask me what I had done to the room. I said I was cleaning my shoes as now I am a grown man, I have to do stuff myself. She didn't say a word during dinner. It was only me talking about my shoes and how I was a grown boy and what I will do tomorrow.
When it was sleeping time Mom came to my room. She kissed me on the forehead and went to turn off the lights. Before she turned off the lights, I saw she flipped the switch from N to E, whatever that is. | 2018-01-09T15:28:41 | 2018-01-09T15:00:54 | 39 | 18 |
[WP] Mages choose the source of their power. Most pick things like fire, or justice, or love. You picked sarcasm. | People worry when a medic gets snappish, short-tempered, and sarcastic. Mage - medics have their powers burn out faster than other magical/medical specialities. After losing too many soldiers and facing too many black mage snipers, mage - medics want nothing to do with any will working for any intent.
Of course, I was not subjected to warnings when I announced my speciality at the Academy. No military history instructors ever warned me of the fog of war and hedge wizard guerillas trying to kill you before you lift a finger to help the target.
Oops, what I mean to say was that they told me. I am as shocked as you are at them bothering. I imagine that you were as shocked as when the Board heard what my Power Word was.
"Usually, medical specialists choose Compassion, Health, or Skill."
"Humor helps to delay flame-out. Not like I need it, going into private practice for some potion billionaire. "
"I thought you were . . . oh."
Three years and 2000 miles later, I am at the bucolic Field of Demons on a humid and gray day made for picnicking. If I am lucky, my Red Sigil tent will hold up until the army retreats. Maybe if I keep up the mockery, some of the army might survive.
I look up to see a fireball heading towards me. Panicked, I yell out "I love the stench of death in the morning!" A man carrying an empty stretcher stops to look at me.
The fireball bounces off the impromptu magical shield, then slides down like a miniature sun. The fireball scorched the oh-so-well-constructed shield, but that was the only thing burning.
The man still stands, trying to balance the stretcher. "Do you need some water?"
I think of a few quips about cacti and nourishment from the tears of angels. However, I decide to give myself a break.
"I would love some," I say with my most sincere smile.
| Mages are a progressive lot. Bunch of early adopters if you've never met one. Think "Elon Musk" crossed with "Steve Jobs." Doddering old idiots can scarcely make a phone call.
After about six lifetimes in the High Citidel enjoying its extensive collection of thrilling triestices on metamagical theory, wide-ranging dining options, and marginally better cell reception than you'd find on the surface of the moon, I finally fucking graduated.
And of course there's a ceremony and of course its in January and of course the freaking Weisengot Sorcery Sorority has to hold the damn thing at midnight. In a castle. Without heat.
So I'm clinching my teeth while trying not to think about who's junk was rubbing in the ratty-ass wool bathrobes we're supposed to wear while the literal oldest, whitest dude that has ever been is trying to read his sacred ceremony cliffs notes printed in second coming typeface on what have to be the largest notecards available for sale in the western hemisphere. I'm cold. I'm tired. I'm barefoot and miserable and he's reading out of some dusty velium book the size of a coffee table and asking questions like "Will you wield your magic as an aegis for the world something something something principles of Love Justice blah blah blah..."
And I'm like "Yea, right."
Except I **said** "yea, right." Like, out loud.
And suddenly the hall wasn't so cold anymore. | 2017-07-20T13:16:57 | 2017-07-20T11:55:42 | 47 | 31 |
[WP] They Hero is defeated by the villian, they expect death or torture. They did not expect to wake up in a guest room with their wounds being treated to. | When I woke up, I found myself in room with a small pool, The Enemy's iconography clearly marking this a temple. A case of mistaken identity perhaps? But before I could think to escape, the dark waters came alive, and The Enemy was before me.
"Hello little one." It took the form a of serpent, draped in shadow. Only its glowing orange eyes pierced the darkness of its form.
"You were quite foolish to take part in a war in heaven, despite being so very mortal. Though I do have a soft spot for fools who think they are doing the right thing." I could feel the water seeping into my wounds, mending them.
"When I am done here, you may go, little warrior. Live your life and do not concern yourself with the politics of the next." At first I did not want to give this monster any satisfaction in whatever horrors I knew would be coming my way, but the simple taunts and lies flared my temper.
I spoke, my own voice so much weaker than I wanted, but my anger came through. "Do not toy with me monster! I am a knight, and I will not demean myself by playing your games, I have seen *exactly* what you do to your prisoners, so get it over with!"
And it was true, for the whole world had seen what The Enemy had done to the guardian angels, twisting them into horrible monstrosities, before tearing heaven itself asunder.
"You may call yourself a Knight, little one, but they have barely begun to atone for their sins. Yet you are innocent." It shifted, coming closer to me, the water still holding me in place. Soon we were face to face. "Do you know what your god and her angels did to me?" The orange eyes of The Enemy burned, perhaps literally, into my soul.
"My sister and I had a small city, no larger than a hundred people, for whom I cared for. I even loved one of them. A *god* in love with a mortal!" It shook its head, as though the very concept of love was ridiculous.
"Your god sent her 13 Knights to destroy my home. My sister gave her life in the fight, but in the end, only myself and my love escaped." I could hear pain in The Enemy's voice.
The last of my wounds had closed, and now the hollow serpent began to slink away. "Our time here is done. Know that my mercy is not infinite, and you will not be spared again. Heaven is no place for mortal, knight."
And with that, I fell through the bottom of the pool, back into the mortal world.
----
----
So I kinda rambled with this one, didn't know where to end once I started. But hopefully it makes enough sense to be worth sharing? | ...crap. I did not expect this. I did *not* expect this. But there they are, on the camera, hospitalized. I notice that the hero in question, Jesse, is starting to wake up, so I go to greet them. As I walk down the pale gray brick hallway, passing a few minions. I wonder how they'll react. Probably worried, maybe a death threat or two. I went in the room, slowly walking in- ow, that was my tail. Entering the room, Jesse's hardly awake, at least from what I can see. They mumble: "wer... mm I?" "Hell.", I reply jokingly. "Hah??!?!?!" They yell, startling me. "No, silly. You're hospitalized in my lair. I'm your nemesis, the dark ruler... Call me Emma, though." "Okay?" Jesse replies, slowly sitting up. "Why though?" They ask. Talking clearly, I say, "Honour, of course. " "OK, but why did you not, like, kill me, or torture me, or... the villain stuff?" "Sorry, honestly. I only meant to give you a cool scar, or something, at most." I said, apologetically. "Thanks?" They said. "Wait..." I looked at them, confusedly. "move back a bit, please." "Okay?" I say, moving back. They grin. They chuckle. Then they laugh. "You-" they muster. "You, the dark-" they cough. " the dark ruler, are wearing thigh highs and a skirt?" Not like, a robe, or a cool dress, or Armour? "It's my house." I reply, annoyed. "Fair enough." They say. "Is this an elaborate plan to gain my trust and kill me?" "Nope." "A ransom?" "Nuh uh. I would feel bad if you died, stupid. I'm not heartless. I have 2!" "Can I stay here a bit?" "K. I'll leave the room if you want." "Thanks. You can go, you're probably busy." I leave, saying: by the way, don't hurt that rib, it's healing!" | 2021-08-09T21:29:01 | 2021-08-09T19:43:57 | 74 | 14 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a special talent that's weak when young, but grows stronger and matures at the age of 30. A kid that's a little stronger than his peers will grow up to lift mountains. Another who like tinkering will revolutionize civil action. You? Well, cats just seem to like you...
*civilizations
Edit: WP was more popular than I though. Reading through the stories delayed because I'm traveling. Keep them coming I'm loving them! | Age : 15
Paul was always envious of the other kids. Of the cool kids. Being a teenager was hard enough, and it didn't help that filthy stray cats followed him on every step. He loved them as much as he hated them.
He always felt a special bond to cat and figured out early that this was his "special talent".
The cool kids were incredible dancers, strong football players or beautiful girls.
And he was just the cat guy. The weird cat guy.
Age : 19
Yesterday Holly visited him. She loved cats almost as much as Paul and their relationship just happend at the local animal shelter. That was 2 years ago, now Paul was the local animal shelter.
Holly wasn't quite sure what her power was. Some people figured out their talents later, some sooner. The sooner you found out, the more powerful you got.
But Holly didn't really care. She had Paul and the cats, she didn't need a talent. Most people didn't care. If your talent is being extremely good at cleaning wine stains in curtains or being able to grow your nails fast you don't really care.
And although Holly was a big part of Pauls life, today he didn't waste a single thought on her. He would finally be able to leave the US to a Safari trip to Africa !
Age : 23
The Safari trip didn't turn out as planned.
The first week was great. The lions and leopards loved him just as much as the cats and while they were a bit more stubborn, they followed his commands just as the cats.
It was almost like Paul and the cats had a telepathic bond. Everything his cats, small or big alike, noticed, Paul noticed. It wasn't overwhelming, as it happend naturally. When Paul was out in the jungle, he felt like a god. Sensing every bit of the deep forrest like a part of his own body, through the senses of the cats was just special. And he was only 23 !
So that was really fucking cool. But in the second week, it began. Some guy with insane charisma started a worldwide revolution through YouTube.
Everybody knew of this guy, nobody really thought he was a problem as he mostly teached nice ethics on his YouTube channel. He made the world a better place ! And then he took LSD and had a horrible trip...
The video he uploaded while having panic attacks and paranoia couldn't be censored soon enough and pretty soon most of the world thought that all the powerful people were lizards.
Anyways, Paul now was stuck in an extremely underdeveloped part of africa where the people didn't had any access to YouTube.
He informed about the craziness by Holly. It turned out her talent was handling dangerous situation well, so she somehow got out of the mess North America was.
Age : 30
Today was Paul's birthday !
Every year his talent got more crazy. He now was the shared consciousness of all cats in a radius of 50 miles. Which was a lot, since he attracted cats like a super magnet.
The revolution had cooled down 6 years ago. The guy who caused everything managed to calm his fanatic followers down by telling an even more extraordinary claim : Cats were god's.
Most humans who were regular users of the internet already knew that and with a army of Reddit users missionaring the world to the one true faith, events turned quickly.
And with the help of Holly, Paul had no problem claiming himself as the god-emperor, bringing peace, cuteness and occasionally broken lamps and cups to the world.
Because that's what cats do !
Thanks for reading ! This turned out longer then expected. It's my first time and I'm not a native speaker, please be gentle :)
(Still correct all the grammar, please) | "Jimmy? What's wrong with your hand?"
I didn't see anything unusual. But then, I didn't have my sister's gift. Since she'd come of age a couple of years ago, she could see things few others could. Heightened senses weren't an unusual power, but her microscopic vision was still pretty rare. And she knew it.
"What is it this time? Is there something under my nails again?"
"No. You mean you can't see it?"
She knew perfectly well that I couldn't.
"Just tell me, Sara." I was sick of playing her guessing game.
"It's hair. Red hair. It's like it's growing from your skin." She pulled back my sleeve. "On your arms, too. And your face." She reached for the hem of my sweatshirt.
"Stop!" I said, pushing her hands away. "This isn't funny." I looked closely at the skin on the back of my hands. There was nothing there.
"Your eyes," she said.
"What about my eyes?"
"Were they always so yellow?"
"It's just the light," I said, a little uneasy. I didn't know what game she was playing, but I didn't like it.
"I know what it is," she said. Her face was deadly serious. "You're changing...into an old man." She laughed hysterically and grabbed another piece of my birthday cake.
"You're such a dick," I said.
--
Standing an inch from my bathroom mirror, I had to admit my eyes were a little yellow. "It's just the light," I told myself. Stupid Sara. I was being paranoid. It was like feeling spiders on your skin after seeing one. The power of suggestion.
A lone cat yowled outside my bedroom window. It was Mittens, I was sure. My neighbor's cat always seemed to prefer my company.
She sounded sad tonight. No, I thought. Cats don't have feelings. I was just projecting mine onto her.
--
When I woke, I smelled trash. Did I leave something in my room? I looked around, but the smell seemed to be coming from the kitchen.
It was the garbage disposal. How did I smell that from my bedroom? Wait, this must be it! My power was enhanced smell. Well, it could be worse.
"Holy shit," said Sara.
"Oh come on," I said, sick of her shit.
"No, I'm serious. You're covered in fur."
"Jesus, Sara. Grow up."
"I'm fucking serious. Look at your hands!"
The red hair Sara had claimed to see yesterday wasn't there at all. Instead, grey fur was growing from my skin in a pattern that was unmistakably tabby.
"Holy shit. What's happening to me?" was what I said, but all I heard was, "Meow meow mew mew mew."
"Jimmy!" Sara cried, but she was getting farther away from me. No, she was growing. No, I was shrinking.
"Meow meow!" I implored Sara's legs to no avail. The colors of the room were fading.
"Oh, Jimmy. I'm so sorry." She was leaning now to reach me on the floor.
"Do you want some tuna?" | 2016-12-30T12:22:20 | 2016-12-30T10:56:50 | 36 | 17 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | "You see it? That is what I crave. The Rajpank of Avoothenkor."
"That's what you want? That's why I'm here?"
"With that I could rule this World. But I cannot have it, for it is not mine."
"So there's guards, cameras, lasers? What's the deal?"
"I don't understand."
"What's guarding it? You know, the security? I don't want to get roughed up or arrested or anything." I could see his confusion. "What's to stop you taking it?"
"I cannot take it. It is not mine."
Was that anger in his voice? They're all so weird and calm around here I just didn't know.
I stepped forward. Nothing. Looked around, reached out a hand, another look. What the fuck is up with this place? I passed the rock to my new friend.
"There you go."
"How did you do that?"
"Like this" I grabbed the rock from him, tossed it in the air a couple of times and then passed it back.
"God forgive me. What Stygian power is this? By what demonic force, by what heaven banished treachery do you control the fates of man and mete out of this global dominion with the ease and abandon of a careless god? What have I done? Have I gained so much and lost myself? No, their praise shall be my balm and my power the tonic to ease the pains of my troubled soul."
"Well, good luck with that and everything, but this place is freaking me out. When can you send me back? You said you'd send me back when we were done."
"Yes. But I may have need of your powers in the future. Here, take this as a sign of my gratitude." He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small round orange object and handed it to me.
With a faint pop I was back at Cheryl's retirement party. Steve noticed me appear in a corner. "Hey," he asked, "where'd you get that orange?" | When I vanished from the middle of class, I didn't know where I was going. All I experienced was darkness and a rush of cool wind before I was deposited in a place that looked like the middle of a forest.
As my eyes adjusted to the level of sunlight, I saw a few humanoid creatures staring at me. They nudged one another and whispered in a guttural language. Finally, one took a few timid steps toward me and spoke. "O great demon of the underworld . . ."
I blinked. "What?"
The humanoid looked taken aback. "You're a demon. We summoned you." They held up a spellbook and pointed at the circle around me. "See?"
I looked around. "Um . . . Okay? What do you need, then?"
One of the humanoids in the back piped up. "There's a girl who keeps ruining our lives and we want you to scare her into not doing it anymore!"
My anger burned a little bit, which set a small fire around me. "What the hell," I whispered as I stomped it out. "And you think that she'll see you as more intimidating by doing sorcery?"
"Successful sorcery!" a third added.
I sighed. For my family, I would do this unwaveringly. For my friends, I would do it took. For these nerds? What do I have to lose? "Okay. Take me to this girl."
They led me toward a set of buildings and I played with the fire my hands generated to practice my new skill. | 2017-05-12T09:20:50 | 2017-05-12T08:32:17 | 99 | 10 |
[WP] A medieval king suddenly finds a smartphone and tries to unlock it. But each time he fails, years later it has become a tradition for nobles to try to unlock it. You, a simple servant, fiddled with it the night before the ceremony and unlocked it.
Edit: just think the phone is solar or something to ignore the battery problem.
Tnx to /u/Fireflykid1 for this edit | “Egads, I did it!”, said Cough. He was but a simple servant, who sneezed all of the time, but he was still the one who unlocked the magical device.
While Cough was staring at the new screen, a fog began to form on the ground. Seconds later, the fog collected into one spot, and a person appeared out of it.
“Congratulations on unlocking the phone!”, said the person.
Startled, Cough looked up. “Who are you?”, he dared to ask.
“My name is Kairu224, and that is my phone. I left it here during one of my many amazing trips through time!”
“Amazing!”
“Yes, it is. May I have my phone back now?”
“Of course, but could you answer some questions for me first?”
“Sure. I have…TIME”.
Kairu224 giggled at his own joke. Cough smiled politely.
“Well”, said Cough, “how the heck did this think hold it’s battery charge for so many years?”
“Oh, it uses a nuclear battery. It’s not like the smartphones from 2017. Go check the edit I made. Special thanks to /u/Fireflykid1.”
“And they still use ‘smartphones’ then?”
“Obviously. Anything else?”
“Yeah. Shouldn’t this thing have locked permanently after a couple of failed attempts?”
“In the far future, we decided that feature sucked too much and removed it”
Couch frowned. “That would allow governmental agencies, or other criminals, to repeatedly try to access your device and unlock it without due process”
“Oh, but it wouldn’t work. Our phones are protected by DNA protection.”
A long silence passed as each of them considered what this meant. The silence was only broken when a door opened and an impossibly handsome man entered.
“My name is urandom123, and I need know how to end this story. I just wanted to point out how phones lock up after so many attempts, but I seem to have gotten myself stuck here with you two”
“How about a deadly plague that kills us all?”, suggested Cough.
“Too slow”, urandom123 replied. “That would take a ton of paragraphs, if not chapters, to reach a conclusion”
Kairu224 pointed to a nearby window. “What if that huge planet crashes into us like the 2011 movie Melancholia?”
“Perfect!”, said urandom123. “It is very, VERY close to us after all”
| 1 2 3 4, Had no one thought of that before?
There was writing on the screen. Elvy read it.
He quickly pressed the lock button, placed it back on its pedestal, and bolted for the door.
As he walked the length of the castle's main corridor, headed toward the great Galaxy ceremony, Elvy couldnt help but feel this was all wrong. But at the same time, he was meant to unlock that device.
All his life Elvy had heard stories of the bewildering light creating machine that appeared miraculously before the king. And one day, he was given a marvelous opportunity. No, privilege. Elvy was appointed royal screen protector. From dusk until dawn, Elvy would watch over the sacred relic, as lord after ser after noble came to stake their claim betwixt an array of four numbers.
After a time, Elvy grew ever the more curious. With several hundred attempts made to lay siege against the Galaxy, would it ever be bested?
And so one day, feeling a sort of courage he'd never known, Elvy reached for the Galaxy.
1....2....3....4....
The lock fell back and before Elvy was not exactly what he'd expected. He wasnt sure what he expected honestly. But it wasnt this.
On the screen was a note, seemingly left open before the screen had been locked. The note was 4 lines, short and sweet.
"If ever once should this be read,
Know that you will soon be dead,
For once you crawl into your bed,
Beware, it comes to take your head"
The words echoed in the back of Elvy's mind.
The words swam around his eyes, laying down for a rest anywhere he fixed his gaze.
The words danced in his ears, whispering their warning anytime it grew silent, or he began to drift away from himself.
For the next 3 weeks, Elvy avoided sleep. Which was becoming exceedingly difficult. His eyes would droop low, almost shut, and then spike wide open again. He couldnt live like this.
But if he didn't, he might not live at all.
| 2017-10-14T07:31:26 | 2017-10-14T07:14:31 | 64 | 36 |
[WP] You're an inmate on death row and discover that the government secretly doesn't execute anyone. What they do is something far stranger. | ~~Dear Diary~~
**The Personal Log of A██████**
██/██/██
It's been... what, two years? Two years since I've come here. Two years, waiting for some labcoat who inject me with a garbage cocktail and send me off forever. I thought I'd come to terms with it. I thought I was prepared.
Today they set my death day to next Wednesday and I [illegible scribbling]
***FUCK***
██/██/██
Tomorrow's the day. I'll get to talk to mom one last time. I need to apologize to her, I never did anything wrong but now I'm going to fucking die and leave her alone and [shortened for brevity]
It's time to say my goodbyes, I guess.
**Audio Transcript ██/██/██-2351255-A**
A██████: Where's my family?
Dr. Damian: They've been informed of your execution already. We sent them a videotape of your last words.
A██████: What the fuck? What? Last words? This is fucking illegal!
Dr. Damian: Rest assured, A██████, this is all perfectly legal. You'll understand soon.
A██████: What the fuck?
Dr. Damian: Hold on a couple minutes, the transport will be arriving soon.
A██████: fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
**Audio Transcript ██/██/██-FTR-A**
Foundation Transit Bus: Welcome, everyone, to your new life.
FTR: You may be wondering what has been happening the past few days.
FTR: We are an organization known as the "Foundation", and that is all you need to know. We will arrive at Site-19 in approximately twelve minutes and three point six seconds.
FTR: Upon arrival, please take your jumpsuit and proceed through New Arrivals.
[incoherent murmuring]
**Level 2 Researcher Log - Dr. Damian**
Picked up ~50 new D-Class today. All is well, none appear to have any form of virus, disease, interdimensional corruption, or other anomalous traits. Only twelve more days on shit duty left. ^Fuck ^Dr. ^Bright
**Journal - D-2351255**
... I don't even know where to start. I'm supposed to be dead. Actually, from what I gathered, I am legally dead. They gave us the crash course - some propaganda bullshit about how we are humanity's last line of defense and some actual important stuff. Honestly, I don't trust myself to remember all of this, so I'm gonna put it here.
- I'm something called a D-Class now
- The Foundation apparently believes in ghosts or something because they want us to help contain these 'anomalies'
- I have one month to live.
They said if I do good and don't die on the way, they'll postpone my execution another month. They said something about an 80% success rate? Whatever. I'll figure a way to get out of this fucking place, I'll follow their bullshit, *I have a chance to live again*.
Signing off, A██████
*Researcher's note: D-2351255 served the Foundation for sixteen (16) days. This notebook was found on the body of D-2351255 approximately two (2) hours after his assignment to SCP-173.*
Author's note: This is my first ever WP response please don't hurt me lol | I stared at my steak and fries, a simple meal for my last I suppose. The sound of footsteps echoed through the halls as the person who I assumed would be executing me came to fetch me. I briefly thought of retaliation but I knew there was no possible chance that I could succeed. I ate my last bite before getting up, resigned to my fate. "Charlie Red, am I correct?" the kind seeming man asked as he opened the door to my cell. I was escorted into a room, the room was small and gray. "where is the electric chair?" I asked the man who merely chuckled. "Fortunately or unfortunately for you we no longer do the chair". A guard shoved me into the room and slammed the door shut, the clicking of locks letting me know I was trapped. A mechanical sound roared through the room as if a metal lion was defending its turf. This sound was immediately followed by a sweet flower-like smell that dug into my nostrils like an ant. I blacked out and awoke in a field surrounded by lime green roses taller than a man, and a sky a pale milky white with spots of icy blue stars. The air felt light as if I were on a tall mountain, and in that still air there was not a single noise aside from the rapid beating of my heart and my breath.
For what felt like days I walked through the seemingly endless field, the thorns of the roses leaving my with many cuts. The first foreign sound I heard was much like a trumpet, a brilliant noise that pierced my thoughts and enticed me to run towards it. I burst out of the forest of flowers and was met by massive crimson cliffs, the rocks being as red as blood with a neon yellow grass growing on top.
I beheld a massive gate of what I can only describe as the steel of heaven, it had many colors like a metallic rainbow, and it shined with an unearthly glow. A bright mist obscured my vision of behind the gate, but I could hear the trumpeting from behind it. I listened and realized it was not a just a trumpet I heard, but I could not hear a heavenly symphony playing music so beautiful I almost wept. With a fever I attempted to breach the gate, but the metal was too cold to grab, and I could not squeeze through the bars. Dejected I stat down on a rock and gazed out over a turquoise sea, the only thing that looked familiar. I gasped as I noticed a brilliant flying creature, like a golden manta ray with the wings of an eagle. Atop this beautiful beast was a what at first appeared to be a statue of bizarre make, it resembled nothing from the world I was accustom to and it seemed to be made out of a light gray stone.
Its voice rang out loud and deep "I am Veritas, and with my aid you may perhaps cross the threshold of the gate"....
&#x200B;
End of part 1 | 2018-11-08T20:52:06 | 2018-11-08T19:06:50 | 44 | 16 |
[WP] You and your significant other are running for your lives from a slasher killer. Suddenly your partner ducks into a door and locks it behind them leaving you behind. You slump against the door preparing for the worst. The killer walks up and says "Wow what a jerk. You ok?" | Words failed to escape my mouth as I analyzed my pursuer with my back against the door. All color left my face. My heart pounded in my chest.
"Hey," said the man, "did you hear me?"
"Y--yeah," I stuttered.
The killer approached me slowly, machete still in hand. When he came within slashing distance, I could see through the slits in his ski mask. I closed my eyes, waiting for my inevitable doom.
He clapped a hand onto my shoulder. "I'm really sorry he did that to you."
I creaked one eye open. "What?"
My assailant sheathed his weapon, leaned against the wall beside me, and clutched his ski mask at his forehead. As he drew it down, I recognized him.
"Kyle?"
"Yeah, it's me," Kyle confirmed. "I can't believe Jerry left you behind like that."
I took a shuffling step to the left. "Yeah, it's not great."
Kyle leaned his head back, propping it on the wall. "This world is messed up. You think everything is all sunshine and rainbows. You think, at the very least, your partner has your back no matter what." He shrugged. "Then, when he or she is truly put to the test, you get betrayed." He leaned forward and turned his wrinkled expression to face me, shaking his head side to side in the process. "Humanity is terrible."
Shifting my eyes back and forth, I did not respond.
"You think you know someone, am I right?"
"Uhh, yeah," I muttered, still looking for a way out of the situation.
Kyle drew his machete with his right hand and held it front of him. "I've been there," he said, running his left index finger across the blade. "The breadth of human difference is astounding. Just look at us right here! We've got me, a man wielding a deadly weapon, bent on revenge. Then there's Jerry, a man who, when faced with certain peril, left the love of his life to die." Kyle tilted his head in my direction with a tempered smile. "Then there's you, a genuine, good person who gave too much of herself to the wrong man and is going to pay for it with her life."
"You're still going to kill me?"
"Yeah, I'm still going to kill you."
"But you said it yourself. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!"
"Ahh!" Kyle creaked through his open-mouthed smile, his tone rising in pitch as he turned and pointed at me with the machete. "And there we find the bigger issue in the universe. Who am I to defy the laws of entropy?"
"...entropy?"
"Don't you know anything about thermodynamics?"
My body rigid, I did nothing more than blink a few times. "I'm a journalist."
"Right right," said Kyle, flicking his weapon as he digested the information. He then placed the tip of his blade on my chest. "We have to commit ourselves to the randomness of our world, Jenny."
Suddenly, his eyes met mine as he broke into a fit of laughter. "Shit, Jenny! I just realized you and Jerry have basically the same name!"
I hesitated. "Speaking of randomness."
"*Exactly,"* said Kyle, climbing back onto his soapbox. "We are but combinations of atoms, drifting aimlessly until we come close enough to initiate a reaction." His blade stroked my arm. "It's all a matter of cause and effect, really."
"You mentioned that you're seeking revenge," I said, hoping to redirect his attention. "What happened?"
"I've been in a relationship with Jerry for almost a year now. He fa--"
"Wait, Jerry and I have been married for *four years*!"
Kyle pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. "He failed to mention he was in a committed relationship. I found out this morning."
"But... is Jerry... gay? It's obviously fine if he is, but like... we've been together for four years."
"He's bi, actually," Kyle corrected. "So am I."
I shook my head. "You think you know someone."
Kyle grinned. "Now you're seeing things my way."
"So are you still going to kill me?"
Then Kyle was the one hesitating. "I'm not so sure anymore," he admitted. "How's that for entropy?" He laughed.
"...we could kill Jerry together?" I whispered, unsure whether or not I wanted him to hear my suggestion.
Kyle folded his arms, looked upward, and tapped his index finger on his cheek. "That would be *something* wouldn't it? What a story!" He looked me up and down. "Are you sure? You become a different person when you kill."
"I think that can't be helped at this point. I've been facing my certain death for the last hour or so, *and* I just found out that the person to whom I have given all of myself for the last several years has been lying to me for a large part of it." I shook my head. "And that's only accounting for you. Tell me, what do the laws of entropy say about that?"
Kyle grinned again. "That there is a high likelihood I was not the first, nor will I be the last."
"Plus there's the whole matter of Jerry being the reason you're thinking of killing me."
"Yeah, that's pretty messed up."
My expression hardened. "So can I help you?"
"Only if we can get a beer after. You sure are *something,* Jenny.*"*
I smiled. "Deal."
\-----
edit: couple typos
Thanks for reading! As always, feedback is appreciated.
Check out my sub for more! r/storiesbyclayton | "God fucking dammit..." you sob, falling against the door, and sliding down into a sitting position. You Bury your head in your hands, overwhelmed with shame and disappointment and fear until a voice cuts through. "Christ she's a bitch! You good dude?"
You pause, and quickly look up to your supposed killer. They were standing above still holding a machete in one hand. It was dripping with something red and rusted, and right at your neck." I said, you good man? Betrayal like that's gotta hurt."
"Uh...yeah. It's pretty hard..." you bring your hands to your hands, "Fuckin hell I'm even crying...hell kinda guy am I?" You try to wipe away the tears, but they keep coming.
"Don't bother, no-one I've seen has been pretty as they died...ya good to cry man."
Now this confused you. "Alright fine, why are you doing this?! What's with you...being...nice?!" you yell, turning angry.
The killer let's out a small, sly grin and pulls down their hood, now only hidden by the skeleton mask. "Hey, I'm a psycho killer, not a monster. I wouldn't shut my boyfriend in with a serial killer!"
"You still killed my mate..."
"And that's in the past! Focusing on the present dude!"
They crouch down in front of you and offer a tissue to clean yourself up. "Here, take it."
"Why do you have a...nevermind, I don't wanna know. So you gonna stab me soon?" At this point, you're nkt even sad anymore, just tired, waiting for that the taste of your own blood.
"Damn, I've had sad, I've had screaming, I've had bloody rage! Never depressed though... You need some help?"
Laughing bitterly, you look at your shaking hands. "Yeah, definitely not terrified. Of course it's depressed. Of course that's the last thing I feel..."
At this, they start getting annoyed. "All right cut that shit out! You think you're worthless eh?! Well you ain't! Everyone means something, just some people choose to do something with that meaning! That's up to you dude! Everyone can be happy, just some people need some help..."
"Yeah...help. And that would be from...?" you say, raising your eyebrow at your would be killer.
"Me! I'm not a bad therapist, my friends always vented to me so I'm used to it. Sorry, this mask is getting hot, mind if I take it off?"
"Uuuuuh-"
"
Thanks!"
They reach behind their head and u clip something, letting the mask fall into their lap. They look up and you gulp.
"You're a-"
"Yes I'm a girl. The name's Ellie, and I'm your local killer. Nice to meet you!" She sticks her hand out and you tear your gaze from her face. Her hand is in a leather glove, and she giggles and pulls it off. "Whoops. You probably don't wanna get all bloody."
Her hand is soft and pale, and surprisingly small. With shiny, unpainted nails and a pinkish tone around each knuckle. You take it and give a small, nervous shake.
"And you are...?"
"Oh, um, Matthew." You stutter, letting go slowly.
"Good to meet you Matt, can I call you Matt? Great." She leans back and looks you in the eyes with a piercing gaze, not unlike a snake. "Come on, I've got all night, let's hear it..."
You're slightly bemused, "Hear...what?" She laughs, and shakes her head, "Everything silly! Problems, fears, whatever. Like I said, I've got all night, and your problems matter!"
You start telling her your problems, financial, emotional, anything you can think of. The minutes turn to hours as you pour out your feelings onto the concrete floor, along with more than a few bouts of tears. And by the time you're done, it's turning light.
"All done? That everything Matt?" she asks, wiping away a single tear of pity.
"Well, not really. I have a question... Whats your name?" You laugh, embarrassed at your lack of knowing, and look down at the floor.
"Eleanor, but call me Ellie...Matt. I think I like you, so let's get you home..."
---------------------------------------
5 years later, you walk into the kitchen humming slightly and grab the kettle. You yell to the living room, "You want something to take your meds with babe!?" and press the switch.
"Yeah, cup of tea, no sugar if you could! Thanks honey!"
You smile to yourself and fiddle with your wedding ring, it was almost 3 years since your wedding. You reminisce whole the kettle boils, only snapping out as the switch clicks back. You make the tea and take it back into the living room.
" Aw thanks honey. I'll try and be more on top of my meds. Sorry for the trouble."
"Don't worry, we've all got our problems, and we just need some help. Don't worry about it Ellie."
Fin
*I am not a psychiatrist so if the advice given in this is dumb don't bully me* | 2020-10-10T06:44:34 | 2020-10-10T06:11:13 | 1,148 | 198 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence. | A deep voice comes from the basement. Each tuesday it's the same.
A letter, a number and then silence. It goes on for hours and then I hear someone screaming.
My mom went to check it out, that's when we lost her.
I heard her scream through the vent.
Dad went away, he said he'd be back for me.
I havent seen him in 2 months.
I called the police... said they couldn't do anything about it.
There was no ''crime''.
Each tuesday, a letter, a number and then nothing...
A letter, a number and then nothing...
A letter, a number and then nothing...
Someone screaming...
Each time I thought: we lost someone else...
I was going crazy. So many lives lost.
As I woke up each Wednesday morning I would see a ghost of my mother making breakfast. Pale, weak and dirty.
On a tuesday, I thought to myself i'd stop it. I would save everyone.
I was just a kid but I knew I could make a difference.
As I listened to the deep voice, I started planning.
A letter, a number and then nothing
A letter, a number and then nothing
A letter, a number and then nothing
.
.
.
BINGO
| Where was the king?
He waited, tapping fingers and with furrowed brow his eyes scanned for a sign of him. The Queen was ready, and with the arrival of the Sire the process could begin. Everyone was suited up, from the highest among them to the lowest, and he waited expectantly for the one who could open the way, the one who could let them onto that field of green.
They all followed the king, but the king was not one for following orders.
How long to wait?
Time was precious, and in the time he waited for the final King among them, he could be waiting for more. He sighed, giving up. The king would not come today.
He clicked the menu option, and started a new game. This was gonna play havoc with his score. | 2015-01-12T15:38:35 | 2015-01-12T11:13:13 | 78 | 19 |
[WP] The year is 2038 and net neutrality has been dead for almost two decades. But a rebellious group managed to travel back to 2017...
https://www.battleforthenet.com/#bftn-action-form
Edit: Obligatory thanks for the gold! Just trying to do my part on this fight, but as I don't live in the US, raising awareness is the most I can do, glad it worked! | Ajit Pai lied back on his throne and sipped his goblet. He roared in laughter Soon Net Neutrality would be repealed, and every link on the internet would redirect to a picture of his face unless people payed money to make it go away.
Suddenly, a group of brave souls appeared out of nowhere.
“Mr. Pai, we came from the year 2038 to stop your reign of terror! In the future, we have to pay 1000 dollars just to browse Google!” the man charged towards Ajti and threw a phone at him.
“NO! Calls to your senators! My only weakness!” Pai started to melt away.
“I almost got away with it, but you brave group of future resistors foiled my evil plans! Curse you, the C.I.R.C.L.E.J.E.R.K.E.R.S!!!!!” and with that, he melted into a pile of goo.
“Great work gang! Now let’s go stop EA!” The members of the group pulled off their masks, revealing none other than Bernie Sanders, Elon Musk, and Dan Harmon, as they raced off into the night. | As I sat in my darkened bedroom, with only the ghostly glow of my computer screen and the click-clack of my keyboard for company. I scan through the news feeds, searching for anything that’ll pique my interest, then I see it.
“Americans continue to fight for net neutrality” I murmured the headline to myself.
Then it dawned on me, they’d been fighting it for twenty years, whilst the rest of the world carried on, with free access to the internet.
The little voice in my head commented “still don’t give a fuck”.
And so I carried on with my life, like the other 95.7% of the world. | 2022-08-04T05:58:14 | 2017-11-21T23:08:42 | 186 | 22 |
[WP] Two depressed, suicidal people meet at the same bridge they plan to jump from. One begins to convince the other not to do it. | The second car came to a stop on the side of the bridge. A man in a slightly creased brown suit stepped out of the vehicle. His hair was slightly too long and fell over his ears, and he probably could have shaved that morning but decided against it. The top button of his shirt was undone, and his shoes were scuffed. Despite that, he looked content. At peace.
As he walked toward the railing, he took off his name badge, and dropped it on the ground. Maybe someone could find that later. Maybe it'd help them figure it out.
There was someone else at the railing, and he knew who it was. He made his arrival clear, dragging his feet ever so slightly on the beaten tarmac. He stopped, planting his hands on the railing and taking in the view. He didn't need to look at the other man's face.
"Hey John. Here again?"
"Paul."
The two men took in the view. The sun was just setting, glinting off the glass of skyscrapers in the distance. There was silence for a while.
"Cigarette?" Asked John, reaching into his jacket pocket.
"No, I quit - Victoria said it was slowly killing me. She'll be expecting me home any minute now," replied Paul, continuing to look straight ahead.
There was a long silence. He continued, slowly, "I don't know how I'd explain it to her. This just seems easier."
"I know," came the response. "You should probably at least say a proper goodbye to her though. You wouldn't want to go without doing that."
"Yeah, you're right."
The two men stood silently for a while longer before Paul slid his hands off the railing, slowly turned around, and walked back to his car. He picked up his name badge, and straightened his hair. He messaged his wife, telling her he'd be home soon.
As he drove away, he didn't see John climb over the railing.
| The world had not been kind to either of them. That was easy to tell. The eyes told it all. It was the way they never seemed to focus on anything. The thousand yard stare normally seen in war vets. They had both reached the end of their wits. No words were exchanged. No words were needed. The eyes told it all. Their eyes met.
They each could see the weakness in the other. A tall, lanky man in a business suit was just as weak as a middle aged woman. Life had beat them down the same. Their rounded shoulder said the same. The man looked at the woman. His look of disinterest turned into a scowl. This was not part of his plan. She was ruining this. Two unrelated suicides could not happen at once.
He had no desire to share the news coverage. The scowl turned into a frown.
What should he do?
They both looked over the side of the bride. They became hyper aware of the force of gravity pulling on them. The woman looked down at her feet. Maybe she isn't ready to do this thought the man. He smiled. he found the solution to his problem.
"Hey," he said.
She looked up at him with those dead eyes. A fire burned behind his.
He pushed her off the bridge. She hit the ground with a thud. The man took in a deep breathe and put back his shoulder.
He just destroyed something beautiful. He felt better. The same way punching a wall made you feel good.
He would have to do this more often.
| 2017-06-18T17:52:52 | 2017-06-18T17:04:21 | 35 | 13 |
[WP] You and your pet rabbit live in a remote part of Australia, far away from your dark past. Animal control has come to your door and informed you that it is illegal to own a rabbit unless you can prove you are a magician. Now you must do something you swore you would never do again.
Edit: Oh wow, this blew up while I was asleep, looks like this hit the front page. Thanks for all your wonderful stories. It is going to take me a while to get through them all, but I intend to read every one. This really brightened my morning. | "I'm sorry, ma'am," I tell the officer. "Stay with her -- I'll just be a second."
I handed the rabbit to the lady. *Officer Delores,* her badge read.
What I needed now was in the safe. I stammered out of the foyer and went straight to the closet.
0-6-1-2-3-4 was the code. I pushed it and turned the handle. The locks released with a clang.
Inside there was nothing but a single vial and an empty 3ml syringe. I took it in my hand and turned it over a few times, reading the handwritten words that I had scrawled on it years ago.
"TRANS LAGOMORPHA EXO"
I plunged the syringe into the vial and drew the clear liquid into it.
I stuffed the vial in my back pocket and returned to the front door, where Officer Delores was waiting.
"Are you okay, sir?" she said.
"Fine -- fine," I said. "Can I see her again?"
She handed me the rabbit.
I looked down at her. She looked back with her big, pink eyes.
After just a brief moment, I took the syringe and pushed the needle into the rabbit, releasing the clear fluid. The rabbit jerked a bit from the initial pain, but then closed her eyes.
Then I sat her down on the floor.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?" the officer asked.
"Just wait -- my wife will explain it all in a moment." | You slowly slink down on the sofa as the officer's dead eyes shift from you, to Mr. Fluffenbottom, back to you again. The shaking of your hands is barely concealed by the, in all honesty quite amateurish, card shuffle you're occupying them with.
Under the officer's watchful gaze, the memories of that fateful day are flooding back into your mind. Children crying. Adults rushing towards the exits. The seething rage of your manager back stage. Chaos. That day day you promised yourself to quit the magician's life, and to never do your ultimate magic trick ever again.
But now Mr. Fluffenbottom's life is in the balance. Though thoroughly conflicted, with stress hormones raging through your body, you decide that you have not other choice. One, final performance, to properly prove, and end, your magician's career. "Excuse me officer." The words barely roll across your sandpaper tongue. Slowly, you raise a trembling hand. "But is this your card?" | 2016-07-09T05:57:51 | 2016-07-09T03:10:42 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | What a day. My boss has never been in such a bad mood. On top of the proposal due next week, I now have a rushed budget to get out by Friday. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up. Every morning I dread getting out of bed, and every night I dread the next morning. I put on the smile for my colleagues, I smile and nod when my boss demands something. It keeps on piling up. The only thing that gets me through the day is knowing my wife will be waiting for me when I get home. I pull in the drive way, open the front door to my house, and there she is. Right where I left her, hanging from the rafters. | It started off as a nice day. I wasn't sore getting out of bed, which I usually am these days. I made a nice breakfast, eggs and toast. The weatherman on the television was grinning, which meant no rain in the forecast. Everything was going fine until the screams from the basement started up again. | 2016-05-19T13:16:11 | 2016-05-19T13:02:32 | 25 | 14 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "What is she *doing*?" asked Wyll, staring at a round-ish woman who was squeezing a bulb of a lilly, rinsing her hands in the foamy lather that came out. She was on her knees next to a little stream, near her little cottage up the hill.
"Is she squeezing a potato?" asked Wyll. "Why on earth is she squeezing a potato?"
Wyll and Alice were peering over a bush, utterly fascinated.
"She's utterly barmy she is" said Alice. "What on earth is she trying to achieve, playing with a potato?"
"It must be old age" said Wyll. "Mam says when a person passes the age of 40, they go mad."
"Must be it." said Alice, shaking her head sadly. "And she's not even 40 yet!"
"Yeah..." mused Wyll forlornly. "Maybe some go earlier than others."
"Oh dear. She's licking her hands now."
"Oh dear. Mam and Pap better hear about this!"
=====
Nancy was ecstatic. She had just been washing what she had initially supposed was a potato, and quickly discovered that in fact, it was not a potato. She even discovered that some substance would come out when squeezed, *and* her hands smelt and felt *cleaner*. She was definitely putting this in her journal.
=====
| Ah old Miss Stevenson. Not getting sick when everyone has. She goes about washing her hands incessantly. She says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot in night soil, and the medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. I am among the first, but not the last to suspect that she might be onto something.
You see... she has suspicions about mercury despite its properties to be bad for you. She says worms come from your feet in night soil which are not exactly related. She washes her hands because she is guilty in her heart.
We know this because all of us have gotten sick from time to time, except Miss Stevenson. There is only one conclusion. She has caused the plight on our town and tonight we gather here, together, to show Miss Stevenson what we think of her and her ideas - she's a witch and has been harming our town. With the power vested in me as your mayor, we shall all watch as she hangs. | 2017-09-14T15:50:54 | 2017-09-14T11:09:45 | 127 | 14 |
[WP] "Hello, my name is Mr Hades. As your teacher is out sick, I will your sub until they can return. Yes, I am a god. Yes, there are multiple pantheons. No, I will not tell you your future or grant you wishes. Now if everyone could please turn to page 157 in their textbooks we can get started" | "Hello, my name is Mr. Hades. As your teacher is out sick, I will be your substitute teacher until they can return. Yes, I am a god. Yes, there are multiple pantheons. No, I will not tell you your future or grant you wishes. Now if everyone could please turn to page 157 in their textbooks, we can get started."
A young man raised his hand.
"A question, yes?" Hades said.
The boy stood up from his desk, and picked up a violin case he'd had tucked away under it.
"I challenge you to a fiddle contest!" the student proclaimed.
Mr. Hades sighed. "Listen, um--"
"My name's *Johnny!* And it might be a sin, but--*"*
"No it's not, he's lying. That's Dustin!" another boy called out.
"Shut up, Andy!" Dustin shouted. "This is *my* moment!"
"Johnny, Dustin, whatever, I hate to burst your bubble, but there are two issues: One, it's the Devil who challenges *people* to fiddle contests in that song, not vice versa. Two, I'm *Hades,* not the Devil."
Johnny-Dustin sat down, sadly.
Another student raised her hand.
"Yes, you there?"
"I'm Abby!" she said, brightly.
"Okay. Hi, Abby. What's your question?" Hades asked.
"So, I know you won't do fiddle contests, or grant wishes, but since you're a *teacher,* could you *teach* me to be a great musician? You know, like that Robert Johnson guy, at the crossroads, back in the 1930s?" Abby asked, hopefully.
"No! That's the Devil again!" Hades snapped.
The classroom door swung open, and a tall man with horns and crimson skin, dressed a polo shirt and khakis, leaned into the room from the hallway.
"Hey, what's up?" said the Devil, smiling.
"What are *you* doing here?" Hades cried, exasperated.
"Have you seen what they're teaching kids in school, these days? I basically *live* here." the Devil replied, with a snort. "Besides, you said my name three times, in a period of less than 30 seconds. You *summoned* me."
"No, I didn't! Your *name* is Lucifer!" Hades retorted. "You and every one of your little minions are all *Devils!"*
"That's correct: each one of them is *a Devil,* but there's only one '*the Devil',* and that's me. Don't try to screw with me on regulations and bureaucracy, I *invented* this stuff." the Devil said, smugly.
"Look, Louie, people get us confused enough, without seeing us together in public! Can you *please* leave?" Hades fumed.
The Devil faced the class. "Hey kids, here's a fun fact about the history of language and translation: Did you know that, in the Bible, the original Greek word translated into English as 'Hell' is *Hades?"*
"Don't tell them *that!"* Hades cried, placing his hands on the side of his head.
The Devil cackled. "Aw, come on, I'm just razzin' ya, man. Okay, okay, I'll leave you alone." He turned back to wave at the class "You be good for Mr. Hades, class! Oh, and be sure to keep dividing yourself into ever smaller cliques and sub-groups, and judging each other by your membership in them -- I promise only good things will happen, if you do! Okay *bye-eeeeee!"*
"Bye, Satan!" the class called back, cheerfully, as the Father of Lies slipped back out the door.
"Alright!" Hades snapped. "No more questions! Page 157, books open, now!"
He cleared his throat. "Ahem! So, picking up where your teacher left off, the mitochondria of a cell is..." he paused, frowning.
"Wait a minute, what am I teaching here, again?" Hades exclaimed, flipping the text book over to read the cover. "Life Science? *Life S*cience? The temp agency put the God of the Underworld in *Life* science? Who am I, Gaia?"
Hades slammed the book down in disgust, and turned back to the class. "Okay, kids, you want an actual, valuable life lesson? Don't become a *teacher!* And also, heads-up for those of you heading into high school, next year: think about trade school instead of college, because higher education is basically a colossal *scam,* at this point. Ms. Beckley will be back on Monday. Until then, just sit there during class period with your books open while surreptitiously dicking around on your phones, and pretend to be learning *something,* which is probably what you were going to do anyway, whether there was a teacher here or not! HADES, *OUT!"*
And with that, he stalked out of the classroom. | I sat there trying to comprehend what I just heard. “Mr. Hades?” Was that right? I sat there completely dumbfounded as this new middle-aged substitute teacher began to read some paragraph about Abraham Lincoln. I looked to my side. The other kids in my class just followed along with the teacher, their noses deep into battered tomes that we called history books. Just to check my sanity, I looked at towards the desks behind me. Of course, there were the students who were talking to each other, and even some guy asleep in the back, but everyone was acting… normally?
Was I the only one who found this introduction odd? Now that I looked at it, the teacher dressed oddly as well. When he first entered the rowdy room, I thought he was wearing a simple white polo and some khaki pants. Upon his arrival, he had ordered the class to be quiet in a booming voice. Even those known for harassing any substitute with a litany of jokes were quiet and attentive. That’s when this strange man introduced himself and commanded us to be quiet and open our battered textbooks. Now that I paid closer attention, he wasn’t wearing khakis at all. Nor was he wearing unassuming polo that first witnessed.
No, he wore some type of renaissance cosplay outfit. It looked like a haphazard combination of a medieval knight and some wizard. Except… it seemed strangely… authentic. What one would assume to be cheap rhinestones or fake jewelry actually looked like diamonds and crystals I had never seen before. The cape that strangely flowed behind him didn’t seem like the cheap sheets a cosplayer would wear, nor did they seem like they were made out of the material of a more-hardcore professional. Instead, they seemed… regal. Almost divinely made.
I must have been staring intently, when Mr. Hades looked me directly in eye.
“Is something wrong?” He questioned in a voice that seemed oddly hypnotic.
I shook my head. “No, nothing’s wrong Mr. Hades” I said in a voice that I only noticed was trembling when I spoke. He greeted my words with a strange glance. With his eyebrow raised, he looked at me more intently. His eyes betrayed his body language.
“Class. Please read up until page 162. Afterwards, we will discuss Lincoln’s role in the civil war.” As if the entire class was under hypnosis, every student, even the inattentive in the back, focused on the pages before them. Mr. Hades picked up a sheet of paper on the desk before him and scanned its contents.
“Mr. Pointer.” He said, glancing up from the paper to meet my gaze. A chill ran through me. There was definitely something off about this sub.
“Mr. Pointer!” He said, his voice edging on agitation. I perked up. “Yes sir!” Sir? I never called anyone sir, but this man… he made me afraid. Far more than any teen scream I had seen before.
“Why don’t we have a chat outside?” He said directly.
“Ok.” I responded shakily.
This time I was under a similar trance. My body moved against my will. I stood up and followed the substitute outside the classroom. Once we were outside, he closed the door behind us.
“So, they were right. A demi-god does go to this school.” He said as he stroked his beard.
Demi-god? The look on my puzzled face must have intrigued him as he spoke my thoughts.
“Yes Mr. Pointer. You are indeed a demi-god. I got stuck with the unfortunate task of finding the child of my daughter, Melinoe, and now I have to bring you to the underworld.”
I was frozen. Demi-god? Melinoe? The underworld? I instinctively took a step back as his gauntlet gripped my collar. “Come now… I’m sure you have questions to ask… as do I.” A bumbling pitch of tar formed underneath us. I tried to struggle. I tried to strike his gauntlet. I tried to kick and scream, but nothing would stop our descent. Inch by inch, we fell lower into the black mass. I screamed even louder as that bumbling pitch touched my clothes. It burnt right through them. It burnt my flesh. That excoriating pain that now dominated my reality inched up my body as my legs became fully immersed in the darkness. The last thing I saw were his angry eyes. Full of hatred, darkness, and malice. Those dark eyes burnt into my brain and followed me into that sweltering black abyss. | 2022-04-15T19:29:53 | 2022-04-15T14:56:41 | 53 | 22 |
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