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[WP] you own a thrift shop which sells objects of immense power from fictional universes to others. Protagonists from all types of media frequent your store, and you have made quite a profit. Everything is going well until... | Hef leaned over the desk, polishing a curved crystal blade.
"Pretty calm today," he muttered. "How are you doing over there?"
I looked up from my desk, nodding. I liked it the best when the sunset beams seeped into the thrift shop, making all the trinkets, artifacts, and weapons glitter.
The doorbell chimed obnoxiously, and the first customer of the day stepped into the shop. He wore an impractical armor fitted with a ton of shining gemstones.
I hadn't seen him around before, and Hef didn't greet him in his usual pompous manner. Without a word, the customer pulled a massive blade from his scabbard and placed it on the desk.
"My name is RF," he said. "And this is the Blade of Sopaa."
Hef tried his best to keep his face in check, but a twinkle of ecstasy surged through his usually stiff face.
"And... you're just going to trade that away?" Hef said, narrowing his eyes.
"Yes, I'm tired of it," RF said, shrugging. "I want to return to my old ways."
"Very well, I'm not going to say no to a good deal -- feel free to pick out anything from the shop."
A grin spread across the customer's face and he pointed at me. "I want her."
The smile on Hef's face suddenly melted away. "Well, um, why?"
"Does it matter why?"
"She's... she's not for sale."
"Not even for the Blade of Sopaa?"
"Not even," Hef said.
"Huh, well, I have the Blade of Sopaa," RF grunted. "I'll just take her."
"Good luck," Hef said, scoffing.
He leaned back against the counter, watching RF stride up to me.
"Come with me, girl," RF said.
"Sorry, but no thanks," I said without looking up. "I'm not interested in you or your blade."
And just like that RF found himself at the bottom of a pit, where crazed people gushed over his blade, but nothing else really came of it. Would he be able to get out? Maybe, but not in this story.
Hef shook his head. "I feel sorry for him."
"Well, that's what happens when you try to steal the narrator," I said and put my pen down.
| The door swings open and is only stopped a woefully thin plaster wall, a small shock wave makes my ears pop before I see him. My heart sinks.
A tall figure clad in a flowing white robe squeezes himself through the (admittedly) rather small door, and begins to browse my stock. I've been running this business a long time, and over the millennia I've amassed a collection of rather valuable and powerful artefacts. Weapons wielded by legends, tomes containing the secrets to disentangling the very fibres of the universe, and scrolls with the secrets of great civilisations long past.
He didn't really seem to care, thumbing through the pages of another great classic like the menu of a fast-food restaurant. He notices my slight irritation and grins at me through his unkempt beard with the pure giddy excitement that only a child could be thought to possess. He makes his way over, every step widening a crack in the ceiling, and places his hands on the counter expectantly.
I sigh, "Hi, God".
"Do you, uh..." his excitement was thick in the air, "do you have it, has it come?" he boomed.
God was a regular, unruly though he was, and sometimes difficult to handle, he was one of my more consistent customers. His most recent visit however, his tone was eluding to something, he placed an order for a speciality item.
I pretended to not understand his request, before answering, "Ohh, the soul? Yes, it's here". I readied myself.
He bounced with glee, and let out a deafening squeal. I placed the glowing jar on the counter, he lifted it to his face and stared at it intently, "Oh, this will be perfect!".
Before I could stop him to pay, he muttered something about "adam" under his breath and sprinted off shouting for me to put it on his tab.
Asshole, he's never gonna pay off that damn tab. | 2017-12-15T07:50:41 | 2017-12-15T07:48:08 | 886 | 104 |
[WP] A local bartender regularly hosts monsters and demons at his pub. When someone kidnaps his children, they learn the hard way just how close they are to him. | Being the only human bartender in town brought with it a lot of complications. Monsters, demons, goblins, ghouls, and a whole host of other creatures would swagger in looking for trouble. They all thought that since he was a human he could be taken advantage of, threatened, maimed, or otherwise swindled out of product.
Little did they know that the bartender, Marv, a fifty something man with deeply scarred hands, took absolutely no crap in his bar. If one wayward tentacle managed to find itself around the neck of an unopened bottle, that tentacle was quickly and mercilessly removed from its owner. The sawed-off shotgun that hung above the bar was always loaded with clean silver bullets. It'd only been fired once. After that, the message had been received.
Marv had quickly established the rules, and enforced them without fail. That's why the locals loved him. It was the one bar in town where they could truly relax for the night because they knew Marvin had their back.
"Hey Marv!" Danny, a resident demon, called as he walked into the bar.
"Dan, how's business?" Marv replied, sliding him a shot of fresh Fire Whisky.
"Booming. Lots of people calling for demons and raucous these days."
Marv gave a knowing nod and went to wipe up a spill that was starting to smoke across the bar.
"Marv, my man, how's the missus?" Gary asked as Marv passed by.
"Lovely as always. Need anymore flesh chips?"
Gary patted his ever growing stomach and said, "I'm so full of the dead that I might as well be one."
Patrons around the bar broke into laughter.
The laughter was cut short when the front door flew open with a crash. A woman came stumbling inside, looking terribly distraught. Marv recognized her instantly, and his blood ran cold.
"Loraine, what is it? Are you okay?" Marv threw down his rag and embraced his trembling wife.
"They broke in. I couldn't stop them. Marv..." she dissolved into a fit of tears.
At this point everyone in the bar was staring at them, so when Loraine finally found her voice, everyone inside heard what she said.
"They took Charlotte and Luke."
Marv clenched his fists as fury ran through his veins. The bar erupted into chaos as patrons and friends alike took to their feet. All of them were calling for justice to be served. Marv carefully guided Loraine through the imposing throng of semi-drunk creatures and seated her safely behind the bar. Then he grabbed his shotgun and turned to face the crowd.
"No one touches my kids and lives to tell the tale."
The shout of solidarity that came from the crowd was nearly enough to knock Marv down. As one, the various creatures raised their metaphorical pitchforks and shouted, "No one messes with Marv!"
Then they swarmed from the bar, teeth bared, claws out, and demonic flames burning. A monstrous mob ready to fight for the best bartender in town. | They called them demons, devils, and monsters, and they called the place they drank Satan's lair because of them. At first the owner despised the name, after all he was just trying to help people, people who were just like him. Once he had just gotten off parole and had been scared stiff to go have a drank at his old haunt, afraid of what his old buddies might do, or make him do, once he had had nowhere to go and drank alone. So when he finally got his feet under him he built a bar to tailor to just such people, people who had fucked up and were looking to go straight. The rules were simple, no fights, no schemes, no drinking when your not supposed to, and old beefs stay outside.
But instead of understanding his place of business got threats and hate. They called his patrons every dirty name in the book and christened the bar with it's infamous title. At first he fought it to little avail, then one day he walked outside and hung up a sign, "Satan's Place: long as your off probation first drinks free on Friday".
That began a new chapter for the owner and his little bar, every Friday night the place was packed, along with Saturday through Thursday. Sure most of the clientele wasn't what you might call distinguished, but they were all good men and women at heart. Occasionally there was a bad apple, occasionally there was a fight that needed broken up, occasionally one of their patrons wasn't going to be drinking for the next 3-5 years. But occasionally there was a wedding.
Matt Gilson, loved weddings. He hadn't at first, least any but his own. Then he got an invite from a couple that had met in his bar, and then another, and then another. Turns out when people are looking for a fresh start and a drink they were often times also looking for love, only love comes hard when your past is full of baggage. That's what made Satan's Place special, the girls and guys both knew what was likely behind the person they were chatting up.
That's also why there was a big old chalk board with 15 marks behind it on the wall, each one represented a time Gilsons little bar had helped someone start a better life. Overall he had been invited to 14, attended 9, been a groomsman at 3, and was one long time patrons best man. Yeah Matt Gilson took a lot of pride in that little sign, almost as much as he did in his little family of 4. | 2021-05-10T16:15:46 | 2021-05-10T14:49:31 | 199 | 126 |
[WP] You are a superhero, no one knows about your alter ego. Not even your spouse. You return home tired and disappointed one day after failing to capture your archnemises. You enter your bedroom to find your spouse struggling to get out of the costume of your archnemises. | (This is my first submission and also I'm on mobile)
"Hello dear," Valerie said as she finally pulled the multicolored garments of Cyberflux free and tossed it in the open closet door, then slamming it shut rather quickly, "you're home late."
My blood froze. I stood there motionless in the doorway to our bedroom. Something about this was wrong, very wrong. Perhaps I had just imagined it. It had been a long day. I could feel the aches and pains in my bones. Even my powers had limits after all.
Still I could have sworn that's what I saw. No. Perhaps Valerie owned a similarly colored dress. What was she wearing this morning? I can't quite remember. I had taken a few energy blasts to the head today but still. I can remember kissing her on the cheek on my way out the door but that happens everyday. Perhaps...
"Honey? Are you all right?," she asked. The world lurched as I came out of my own head. There in front of me was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her long raven hair cascaded down her back in flowing waves. Her glistening green eyes stared at me. They always seemed like there was something unnatural about those eyes. Perhaps tonight he had finally learned the reason. No. I won't think like that. Second guessing the woman I love wouldn't help bring Cyberflux fo justice.
"I'm alright." I said finally, doing my best to sound normal, "Its just been a long day. I'm tired."
"Oh honey..." Valerie said, genuine concern dripping from each word, "do you want to talk about it?"
I crossed the room and sat on our bed. How could I ever second guess her? Even for a second?
"No I just think I'm going to call it an early night tonight and get some sleep. I'll be okay in the morning." I said.
Valerie turned away, gathering things for her nightly rituals. She had a slender yet powerful build. She moved with a natural grace that never failed to draw my attention. Valerie had always captured people's attention with her ability to make even the most simple of acts look like a fluid elegant performance. Finally she placed a fluffy pink bathrobe over her shoulder and turned back to me.
"Well I'm going to get a shower. Why dont you go relax in your den and wait for me? We'll come up with some way to help you blow off some steam." she said, coy smile spreading across her face.
"You know what? That doesn't sound half bad, " I said standing to leave. Valerie ushered me toward the door. I turned to her. She brought her lips to mine and we kissed, quickly yet tenderly. Then she broke it off and shut the door.
I proceeded downstairs but paused at the bottom of the stairs. Ordinarily that would have been a great way to return home but tonight was different. Something still ate at the back of my mind.
Upstairs the sound of the shower handle being turned resonated followed by the clatter of water onto tile.
I'm being ridiculous. There's no reason to suspect anything. So she has some clothes that look like my greatest enemy? That doesn't mean anything. I only saw it for a second. How can I even be sure what I saw?
The answer was easier to find than I'd have liked. A second is more than enough for me.
I turned around. I had to be sure but I also had to be careful. My body began to glow. The familiar sensation of heat ran through me. My powers were diminished at night but they should still work for this. Slowly my body raised from the ground. It took minimal effort to fly through the house but a lot of effort to keep my glowing energy to a minimum. I had to go slow.
My heart carried me up the stairs and into the bedroom. For once I was happy I never had time to fix things around here. The door latch never shut properly and was already open. The closet was still slightly ajar. Valerie had closed it rather hastily.
I didn't land until I was in the closet and the door was shut behind me. It was a simple rectanglular walk in closet. One wall had a shelf running its length for shoes. The other held countless dresses and outfits all hung up on a series of rods. Valerie had loved it when the realtor was showing it to us. She had enough clothes to outfit an army but none of then matched what I saw earlier.
How many times had i been in this closet? A million? There wasn't anything out of the ordinary here. There couldn't be. Or maybe I had just never looked. I closed my eyes and concentrated. Everything gave off heat. If I focused I could see it. The back wall, it was giving off some. A lot. I opened my eyes. It was a normal wall.
On the back shelf next to it sat a lurid purple pair of high heels. Had those always been there? They must have. But still they were giving off heat too. Not as much as the wall but enough to notice now that he was looking for something. Could they really...
I pulled left show. There was a click and then the back wall slid down. It revealed a small compartment with a mannequin. A mannequin wearing the helmet of Cyberflux.
Wait if the helmet was here where was the suit?
"I'm so sorry, my beloved" said a voice.
Light flashed around me. A force field. I was trapped. I turned and there stood Valerie. But she was different. Fiercer. The look of someone who wasn't to be trifled with. I had never seen that look before.
She wore the familiar purple suit of Cyberflux. She held her arm outstretched. Her hand pulsated with blue energy and she was pointed directly at my chest. I tried to say something but the words caught in my throat.
"Falling in love with you wasn't part of the plan, " she said. For a moment she lost that fearsome expression. Then everything turned white. | I do what I can. It’s not much, but it keeps the city safe. It’s been this way for years now--I fight off the muggers and thieves and super villains--and come home to my wife, Jenna, and our young twins, Liam and Nicole.
More often than not I’m exhausted. My left knee is bad after the fight with Polaris years ago. One more concussion and I’m sure I’ll have CTE. But it’s worth it, I think, to know that my kids are growing up in a city that’s safer than the one I was born into.
At least, I thought it was worth it.
Until tonight, when I trudged into my bedroom after a fight that lasted hours and took down half a city block in midtown.
Jenna was standing there, her hair all slicked back and her makeup smudged around her eyes. And she was struggling out of the ice-white and frozen-blue jumpsuit of Polaris.
My eyes narrowed. *No.* It couldn’t be. Could it? My hand tightened around the doorknob; the brass crunched in my palm. “Jenna,” I chocked out.
“You’re home.” Her voice was dead and hollow. She wiped her eyes and kept working her way out of the skin-tight suit.
“You--you,” I stammered. My words wouldn’t form right. “It’s *you*.”
“Of course, it’s me. Who else would I be?”
I kept staring at her, not know what else to do. How had I not seen it? All along, she’d been right next to me. “Jenna.”
“Where were you,” she said. Her bottom lip quivered. “I told you I had something planned and you just took off again. I left Liam and Nicole with my mother for this.”
And, with that, something inside me snapped. I stepped forward and snarled. “How big of you.”
“I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”
“*You* don’t know how much longer *you* can take this?” How dare she. How dare she pretend to care. “What about me? God. I thought I could trust you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jamie.”
I chuckled dryly. “You’re good. I’ll give you that. But it’s time I put an end to this all.”
Jenna stepped back. “Jamie,” she whispered, “you’re not making any sense. You don’t look well. Why don’t you get some sleep, okay? We can talk about this in the morning.” She pushed the rest of the Polaris outfit down to the floor and pulled a cotton t-shirt from the dresser.
“Jenna. I can’t let that happen. You know I can’t.”
“Well, you can sleep on the couch then.”
I stepped forward and grabbed her wrist. “You’re coming with me--straight to the jail. You’ll have to get used to sleeping on a cot. I imagine you won’t be leaving anytime soon.”
Jenna tried to yank her wrist away, and for a split second, I tightened my grip. But then I released it as quickly as I had started. The last thing I needed was a frozen palm.
But then Jenna quirked her head and her mouth twisted into a wicked smile. “You’re gonna take me to jail, hmm? Big strong man?”
“Yes. You’re coming with me.”
She ran her finger over my chest and leaned in toward my ear. “Make me.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “This isn’t funny, Jenna.”
She rolled her eyes and stepped back. “I wasn’t *trying* to be funny. I was trying to be sexy. You--you leave me. All the time. It’s hard not to feel like a boring old mother all the time. God forbid I try to have some *fun* once in a while. But whatever.”
She pulled a makeup wipe off the counter and rubbed it over her eyes. “I thought this would be fun. I mean, you’ve been obsessed with Hyrdo Man for as long as I’ve known you. And then I tell you I have a special plan and you first run off to God knows where, and second, refuse to play along.”
Wait. I bit my lip. “This was just a game?”
“It’s called roleplaying, Jamie."
*Oh.* “Oh.”
She eyed me. “Unless you don’t want to be Hyrdo Man… you want to be *with* him?”
My face burned. “No--no. Uh, that’s not it.”
“Sure.” Jenna crawled into our bed and pulled her book off the nightstand. "You've been so distant lately... but then I go to all this effort and you run off without so much as a text. How hard is it to say 'hey, I'm going to be a few hours late'?"
"I'm sorry, Jenna. I know I've been distant. I've been a flake. But I'm *trying*. I really am."
"I know." She sighed. Her lips turned down in a frown and her brown eyes glittered with a watery sheen. “I still think it’s best if you sleep on the couch tonight.”
I swallowed. “Sure. I guess."
"I need more, Jamie," she said softly.
My voice cracked. "I know." But I didn't know if I could be the one to give her what she needed.
---
r/liswrites | 2020-10-30T11:56:26 | 2020-10-30T11:36:36 | 197 | 104 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | I'm no good at writing but...
Steve,
I've struggled before but never like this. This past 19 years of my life I've felt so alone, and now I feel there's nothing I can do.
You were the best to me. Looking back at pictures I'm reminded of how much you loved me. How you looked at me with warmth and pride. I couldn't have wished for anyone better. At times I think of my friends and how they've all got what I want, that love that I just wish I had. That unbreakable relationship that everyone seems to have but me. It's an exaggeration I know, but that's how it feels deep inside.
I struggle to sleep at night, thinking of the times we could have had. Thinking of how I tried to replace you and now all I feel is guilt. I let someone else in, but he wasn't you. He wasn't the faithful, loyal man you were. You see he broke my trust, and my heart and I could never give them to anyone like that again. He betrayed me and my family, not only affecting me, but my mum too. Since then I've become very protective.
I know this is crazy since we only spent a year together. But, I guess, no one else will be my dad...I miss you, and i have all my life. I just hope wherever you are you're happy.
Love you dad
From your son | Dear Melody,
It's been a year.
I guess I know why you didn't call me. It's not like I bothered to keep in touch. Not like we stayed close. Besides, I'm pretty sure I was kind of a jerk to you when we were still talking.
I miss you. I wasn't really expecting to, I hadn't thought about you for a long time. I don't even really remember the last time I saw you.
But couldn't you have called Kyle or James or anyone? Or even what's his name, your boyfriend who I really don't like?
He calls you his angel. He says he was planning to propose. I don't think he really knew you. Either that or he's why you left. Doesn't really matter. You're gone now.
I know this is silly. I feel silly writing this. I'm going to burn this anyways and hope it gets to you somehow.
Hope sounds better than pretend.
I miss you. And I'm sorry. | 2017-11-05T18:52:28 | 2017-11-05T18:20:52 | 1,861 | 157 |
[WP]A small tavern with good food is owned by the retired God of Balance. Waitress is a super-android 50,000 years from the future. Janitor is the best super soldier and general. Chef is the first and strongest mage. Bodyguard is the Grim Reaper who was fired. None of them know each other's identity | Sometimes you do your job so much, no matter how much you love it, that you start to get bored of it. That's exactly how I feel right now, so by my curiously bored and mischievous mind I applied for a job. A muggle's job. Yes, I picked up the HP term, and I do use it.
No, I am not a chuuni. Name's Carter. Yellow hair (Natural, not dyed. No, I don't know how in the world my genetics allowed me for yellow hair.) Norwegian, but you can't really tell by the name and my accent. 100 years old, but look like 20. Still concerned with my youth despite infinite lifespan as the strongest mage there is and will ever be. Founder of magic and a secret society of magicians (For clarification, I didn't use magic to change my hair color.). Now? A chef in a small but homely tavern.
This tavern is owned by a middle-aged man with hair that I swear changes color every time I blink or look away from, but as no one else asks about it, then I think it's just my hallucination. The guy has a deep look in his eyes that just screams wisdom. His name's Ray Seth, but we just call him Owner Ray. Nice guy, if you ignore his obsession with balance.
The waitress is an absolute killer of a beauty, one with a cold disposition and purple, calculating eyes matched with a dark purple hair. Always calm, always logical. Name's Christaine. Has a fascination of maid outfits from what I've heard.
Janitor's name is Authgard. Weird for a name that sounds like it was thought up on the spot and is not quite fantasy, not quite Western, not quite European. Guy always speaks minamally and a general apathy for everyone and everything from his expressions. Blunt, very. But cares for this tavern very much.
The guard is a burly man named Rescarte. He looks like the cliched, typical bouncer, but he's the real deal. Unexpectedly empathetic, emotions are easily readable, and cares a lot for animals. But somehow, I feel a strong sense of danger from him despite being one, if not, THE most powerful guy on this planet.
Now that's the introduction I would say a few days ago. But now...everything is so much more interesting.
Now hear me out. For some dumb crap reason I didn't really bother to listen in the slightest, our town was raided by this one terrorist group. Small, like about 20 members or so, but that's probably my warped sense of numbers in a terrorist group after fighting Talibans and ISIS in the shadows. Anyways, all armed with rifles, and they all decided to hit up our tavern. Aimed their guns at us to serve them food and drink for free and not call authorities yada yada.
Rescarte, being the guard, tries to convince them nicely to back off, but they just insulted him and tried to force their way through. Keyword: tried. Apparently Rescarte is crazy strong. Didn't budge at all even after being shoved. Took him a punch from the terrorist leader to get him out of the way.
And this is the good part here. Rescarte's aura became sharp, like a killer with full confidence looking at a definitely dead prey. But the thing is, it wasn't just Rescarte. It was everyone else, including me. I secretly conjured a rank 12 spell, instantaneously may I add, which was definitely overkill for these muggles. Authgard somehow pulled out a minigun from nowhere. Christaine's shoulders mechanically transformed into missile batteries and her right arm a fucking plasma cannon. Owner Ray raised a hand and volatile energy swirled around him. Even Rescarte materialized a scythe, one that I recognize from the old texts, the scythe of the Reaper. With everyone having identities as special as mine, I decided to have the spell on display instead of hidden. What happened after...was simply a massacre.
After this whole fiasco, we decided to introduce our real identities to each other, wiping out the memories of the locals while at it.
Owner Ray was apparently a retired God of Balance. Thought it was just senseless rambling, but it's apparently real.
Christaine, or should I say CHR-15-TA15NE, is an android superweapon from the VERY VERY far future who got stranded in our time.
Authgard is an interdimensional traveler and a superwarrior and absolute genius of a general with the ability to summon weapons by his own will. Androids not included of course.
Rescarte, or should I say the Reaper, is, well, the Grim Reaper. Death. Harvester of Souls. Or he was until he got fired somehow. Something about serving in the position too long and letting life propagate too much. Still kept most of his power though. He also had already suspected Christaine and Owner Ray to be more than meets the eye, as he couldn't feel the presence of a soul of one, and he could feel the divinity of the other.
And well, I'm apparently the youngest of the five. But now, I found interesting company. Company that I would have for a long long time. Company I can call friends and comrades. | The tavern was always full.
The gods looked at the assortment of the power contained within its walls, and they were rightfully scared. If ever, the tavern wasn't enough, if ever, they looked beyond, even their thrones in heaven could be in danger.
So they searched far and wide for a solution. It was then, that the trickster god sent forth a proposal. A proposal, that seemed extraordinarily impossible. But it was also their only chance.
The old woman entered the tavern with her little girl.
"Please... please give me something to drink."
The God of Balance looked at her and shrugged his shoulders. "You have to pay."
"Please I don't have any money."
"I'm sorry then."
"I could die."
"We can't give you anything without money. You give me something. I give you equivalent value. No more. No less."
The grim reaper looked at the old woman, his eyes widening. But he didn't want to give up his identity. For, he could see she was very close to death.
The Mage could've conjured up something for her to drink, but that risked exposure. And he was comfortable where he was.
The Android wanted to help, but she was just a waitress. How could she go against the owner.
The Janitor considered all the options. He realized that this could go very wrong. He also thought about why such an old woman would come to this place. He was considering all the possible options and scenarios and...
While they all thought, the unthinkable happened. The old woman died of thirst. Right there. In the middle of the tavern.
The little girl looked at her companion and started crying.
The god of balance moved towards her, attempting to comfort her. "I'm sorry little one."
"I do not need your apologies. What I desire is balance."
The god was taken aback. He saw that he had fallen into a trap. "What do you mean?"
"You took her from me. A life for a life. Balance. That's what I want. Since you took her life, I need to take one from you now."
The God looked over all his companions. They were all shocked. Except the janitor who was in deep thought.
The little girl turned back to the owner. "So who will it be?"
The God of Balance looked at all his companions. He couldn't let this happen. He couldn't condemn anyone to death. Where would the balance be in that? "Take me."
"So be it. I will kill you and send you to the depths of hell with my grandma."
The Janitor intervened. "Oh I can't let that happen. Take me instead."
"I could take you. If he says so."
The Janitor turned to the owner. "I know who you are. I've known for a while. You're too important."
The owner smiled, comfortable in his immortality. "I cannot let you die for me. This is my tavern. My responsibility. I will be fine. Come then. Go ahead. Kill me."
The little girl held up her hand and turned to the waitress first. "By your inaction, you have killed my grandma."
The waitress put her hands to her ears and shrieked, an inhuman shriek. She broke down in the corner, beyond any help.
She then turned to the mage. "For me to kill him, I need you to sever his soul from his mortal body."
The Mage was shocked. "I can't. I have a rule that I can't hurt anyone. If I do, I can never practice magic again."
"In order to be balance, you have to."
The god of balance was taken aback. But still, even if he had to lose this mortal coil, he could always find another. "Do it."
The mage did as asked. He then broke down in the corner, vowing never to cast another spell.
The little girl turned to the reaper. "For there to be justice, his soul has to go to hell. You can still do it. Take his soul."
The reaper paled. "I cannot do that. If I do, I can never return."
The little woman turned to the General. "Your king promised justice to me. I demand it now." To the owner, she said. "Tell me. Don't I deserve balance."
The God of balance, the owner of the tavern, hung his head. "So be it."
The reaper flew his soul down to the depths of hell, where he could easily be subdued by other gods.
The little girl finally looked at the Janitor. "You just allowed your king to be killed. You just lost 2 of your companions, the third being rendered worthless. If you had even an ounce of pride, you could never live with yourself."
The little girl smiled and walked out of the tavern, leaving the general to consider the gun that was hidden behind the counter. | 2021-09-17T08:02:04 | 2021-09-17T07:34:08 | 54 | 26 |
[WP] You are in heaven and you see a room that is empty except for a computer with one program running called Earth.exe. You see a tab with options of what to do to the universe and decide to have a little fun. | It’s empty. Not empty like you’d imagine empty. Not white. Not black. Empty. Have you ever seen empty? I wouldn’t think so. Each life was so full. Full of cars and trees. Animals. Life. Death. Dirt.
So full. Now empty.
I look down. No hands no feet. So empty. I wonder... how is it that I can hear myself thinking but not see myself? Not feel my heartbeat nor my tongue in my mouth. Not see anything. But emptiness..
A moment passes. Then, all of a sudden it’s not empty! I was beginning to feel the void sucking at my life essence but now I have a computer! One piece of existence to cling on to. One single piece.
Not sitting. Not standing. Not moving. But somehow I’m at the computer. It’s not much. An old model Mac. Circa 1987. Maybe there’s a copy of Dig Dug? No. Just a program I’ve never experienced. “Earth.exe.” It seems strange. Nearly as strange as TempleOS.
The mappings are convoluted. Conjuring the script I attempt to decipher the code. It isn’t in html or java. I’ve never seen this before. Never. Not anything even close.
Exiting the script I see options now. It feels like a test. Someone has given me options to engage with Earth. It must be a test.
Hovering, I see the means to alter terrain and create new life. To destroy and create turmoil. I don’t want to crash the program. The fear is keeping me from exploring too much but I can’t resist the temptation. I have to try something.
I scroll and scroll and scroll, looking for something small to tinker with. Finally, I find single particle alterations. Move a piece of sand, make a leaf fall. You know, really minor things.
Right as I’m about to click the sand I have a thought. It’s about the butterfly affect. How one minor change could completely alter reality. It stays in my thoughts as I stare at the screen.
It really isn’t my place to play God.
“Well Done.”
| Nothing but white then nothing but black. Now there's just nothing, no color or smells no feelings of any kind. No pain, my arm is back and my legs work. I cry and then I realize I'm jot sad or happy I just am.
"It takes a little getting used to" I said to myself from accros what I perceive to be a room.
"used to what? Where am I? Now that I think about it who am I?"
"you are me and I am me but we are not the same" I said walking over to me
"my name was....." I said without a name in my mind or any idea of anything.
"your name was not important, you are done for now, all that's left is your own idea of what you were, and even that is fading" I said sitting on a now existing chair and motioning me to sit.
I felt calm and nothing else as I sat and explained to myself that I didn't even look the same and I was left there on a chair by myself. A door materialized behind me without me even noticing. I walked thru an empty corridor the lights grew dimmer then it grew dark then a new door appeared. I walked thru and saw the computer just where I left it, just where I put it. I sat down and opened the file called Earth.exe. And I kept doing what I always did. I kept playing chess. I lost a queen then the knight took my pawns, my king became a bishop and then it switched sides. All that remains is a single pawn, but that's just how I like it. I keep playing I never lose. | 2018-11-24T13:53:12 | 2018-11-24T12:47:17 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] The manned mission to Mars went off without a hitch. The transmissions came back right on schedule: "Touchdown successful." "Habitat functional." "Life-support optimal." Then nothing for 48 hours. Then one last transmission: "We were wrong. Planet inhabited. Do not send rescue."
| "We were wrong. Planet inhabited. Do not send rescue."
These words silently flashed across the monitors of the stunned crew on Earth, their blinking the only sign of life in the still control room.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
He was first to break the silence.
"Think they got it?" said Marc, turned away from me and staring distantly out the window, as if trying to spot the transmission floating through space.
I swung around in my swivel chair and lit up a cigarette, taking advantage of our newly habitable atmosphere. "I sure hope so."
The smell of the lit match reminded me of home. Only ten left. Of course, we weren't supposed to bring anything flammable, but I couldn't help but sneak them onboard. Had the mission failed, it certainly wouldn't have been due to a matchbook.
"You know, you really shouldn't smoke those."
I chuckled. "Why, cancer? We just took the biggest risk of our lives, I think I can afford a smoke."
"No," Marc said, "because we don't know anything about how the chemicals in cigs may react out here. Might surprise you, but no one smokes on Mars."
"No one *smoked* on Mars," I corrected him with a wink, turning back to the screen. "Looks like the message was received. Now here's hoping they listen. Wouldn't want anyone contaminating the place," I snickered.
"Should we feel bad?"
I quickly spun back around. "Why should we feel bad? We didn't lie. The planet is inhabited. By us."
"I know, and you're right, it's just... I can't help but feel like we're leaving them behind. All of them."
He was right. That's exactly what we were doing, and we knew full well when we started. It's not like I wanted it to be this way. I fought like hell back home. We both did.
I rose from my seat and joined him at the small, round window, standing close. "We are. But no more than they've abandoned themselves."
I gently turned Marc by the shoulder and led him over to the airlock lever, nodding a gesture to pull. Slowly, he reached down and opened the doors to our new world. The first two inhabitants of Mars, ready to begin humanity's new chapter. | Over the course of the last two days, the tone had changed dramatically at mission control. My eyes burned as I closed them, sucking down another lukewarm coffee. My stomach ached and I wondered if it was the stress, or the Chinese takeout. Probably both.
I stared at the communications log once again "Touchdown successful." "Habitat functional." "Life-support optimal." and I remembered how I pumped my fists when they first arrived.
That was two days ago.
By now, most of the team had left. Sandy ordered everyone to go get some rest until a proper plan could be formed, and though most people promised not to go until we heard something, they slowly petered out until only a skeleton crew remained.
The console updated every 30 seconds, and as I slumped into my chair, I noticed the buffering animation took a little longer than usual. Then it appeared.
“Jesus Christ!” It was only a mumble, but Jules must have heard it. He leaned back from his monitor and turned to me.
“Jesus, fuck.” I couldn’t be sure it was real. “Is this some sort of joke, Jules?”
“What is it?” he stood up and looked over my shoulder. “Somebody call Sandy.”
“It’s just us, Jay.”
“Well get on the fucking phone for Christ’s sake.”
I found her number, hit call, then put it on speaker. The ringing seemed to go on forever.
Then she picked up.
“Have they made contact?” Sandy’s voice came through, assertive and clear as always. She wasn’t sleeping.
“Yes ma’am.” Jules replied over my shoulder. “It’s not good.” He put his hand my shoulder. It was no comfort. “Read it out”.
“Ma’am, the response reads: We were wrong. Planet inhabited. Do not send rescue."
Silence. I looked up at Jules for reassurance, but his face was stony.
“I’m on my way.” | 2019-01-31T07:54:22 | 2019-01-31T06:24:03 | 2,633 | 134 |
[WP] Humans are the first sentients, putting us millenia ahead of aliens. Instead of acting like an "elder" species should, we create mysterious artifacts with no actual use, crop cicles and send spooky messages, like "be quiet, you are in danger" to the aliens, because we are still childish morons. | He felt nothing but terror at the tiny words on the screen in front of him. Printed in simple blocked characters.
"Be quiet, they'll hear you"
His crest stood on end, wings folding nervously into his chest. Surely this was a jest, a joke, some kind of galactic conspiracy, a stray message in some invisible stream of messages. A second message appeared on the screen, then a third and a fourth, more messages coming quicker than he could read them. What sort of creature communicated this fast?
"What do you mean I accidentally broadcasted to the primitive world?"
"Fuck dude, I need to make up an excuse to the UW about this. Uh, let's just say it was a prank... Yeah, a prank"
"Yeah, you're right. Our cover is already blown, let's go all the way"
"No, nothing like a nuke or a CD bridge. Let's give them genetic engineering."
The next message wasn't a text message, it was an incredibly dense file, so big that it took up a full 30% of the supercomputer he used. He raised a dull claw, and with a heavy dread wrestling with the butterflies in his stomach, he clicked to open the file.
It wasn't just proofs and theories, not just clear and understandable blueprints for complex and unknown machines, it was also a picture of his people's genome. He moved the cursor over the genome, and part of it sprang up, describing in detail all of the functions of whatever random gene he had selected. He trembled with terrible conflict, before shaking his head and reaching over to his phone. There were a few calls he had to make. | They say that with great power comes great responsibility. They say it an awful lot.
It seems they do not hold themselves to the same maxim.
They are perpetual children, born of a hellish world. They are tall and wiry and somehow far more resilient than their spindly limbs and narrow frames suggest. They eat poison and drink acid, delight in danger and chaos, and find it utterly hilarious to play elaborate practical jokes.
They made there presence known to us by broadcasting three signals at us at once. The first was easy, a simple binary replacement that, when decoded turned out to be a book. The second used the book as one piece in a three part decryption key, to reveal a set of spatial co-ordinates corisponding to a spot on our nearest moon and a timestamp. Traveling to that point at the specified time got us blueprints and codes for a machine that could translate the third signal...
The third signal which, by this point, had been being broadcast at our world for 2 whole years...
It was a looped audio recording of a long and reverberating bout of flatulence. | 2017-10-31T16:39:56 | 2017-10-31T16:23:05 | 296 | 176 |
[WP] A genie is about to concede you your second wish, but a paradox created by your first one prevents him from doing so. | "It's not that I won't, it's that I can't!", The Genie said in a manner similar to that of a particularly helpful Customer Services representative hamstrung by miles of red tape. "Cause, Effect.. Cause, Effect." he swayed his hands from one side of an invisible table to another.
"No, you clearly won't." I yelled, "You said anything." It was hard to be heard over the wind; we were barely two feet apart and it was still difficult to hear.
"I said anything within my power. This isn't within my power; In fact..." The Genie looked around at the chaos around him. "..I don't even know what my power can do for you any more."
"But I can't take it anymore, this is crazy." I hollered. "Make it stop!" lights flashed and winds made up of unknown origin whipped past.
"I'm sorry." The Genie began to lose himself within the elemental maelstrom, he was even beginning to vanish from sight if you caught him in the right light. "You said you wanted the power of a God. Well here it is; except you've not had the aeons to master it of those who are born into power. You may do in time; but for now all this..." he gestured to the bellowing energy all around, "all this is yours."
"I don't want it. I wish for you to take it away." My brain was on fire; so many people not only on Earth but across the universe. The living, the dead souls.. the animals, plants, the elements, all like a limb I could control but with the ability of a newborn baby, too weak to do anything.
"I'm sorry. A God's power is not mine to take. But you will learn to control it." he finally began to fade from even the omnipresent sight I had now attained. "in time, of which you have an eternity at your disposal. My Lord." | The police sirens grew louder.
I stared at the Genie in horror. He looked back at me blankly.
"Is that okay?" he asked. "What you asked for, yeah? Working on the next one. Gimme a couple of minutes."
"God no. Oh God no. No."
Three police cars screeched to a halt just behind him.
"Just gotta concentrate for a few more secs." The Genie screwed his eyes shut and raised his chin.
"No, no you ca-"
The first of several policemen ran towards him. I stepped backwards from the growing pool of blood as the police converged.
The Genie flinched at the first grab. "Ouch! Gerroff! Lemme go! I've got a job to do." He was hauled away towards the police cars, still jabbering and waving as they tried to put handcuffs on him. Eventually they got him into one of the cars.
A policeman looked at the smashed naked body on the ground, and then at me. "Was this person known to you, sir?"
"No. God. Erm, I think I know who it is... I didn't mean... I just asked for the body of Adonis. And he just fell out of the sky..." I gestured upwards.
A thick grey lump of jelly, the size of a grapefruit, was heading straight for us.
"...And the brain of Leonardo da Vinci..." | 2014-07-07T07:06:31 | 2014-07-07T06:59:01 | 61 | 39 |
[WP]: You have been granted one wish by a almighty being. You wish for the powers of a god. Problem is, you didn’t specify what god you wanted to be. | "So... You're God."
I swirled my glass around and sighed. Same question every time. But I had to go through it. She'd seen me do my thing.
"No, I have the powers of Jesus. It's different."
"But that's amazing! It's incredible!" She stared at me like it was the coolest thing she'd ever seen. It was a look I'd grown used to. I'd seen it on some of my dinner guests faces before.
"It's really not. Seriously."
"But you could do amazing things!"
I rolled my eyes at her. "Like what?"
"Well you can walk on water!"
I scoffed.
"And why the hell would I ever want to do that? Most places aren't designed to optimize travel by water. I've only even done it twice. Once to test it out, and then again to take a shortcut when I went camping last year with Matt."
"Okay, but you can turn water into wine! That's gotta be worth something!"
"Actually I don't really like wine."
"But... You could sell it! Make a ton of money!"
I sighed again. "I tried. It turns out if you suddenly have dozens of barrels of wine without a vineyard or any evidence, it's hard to actually sell them. People think you're a conman."
She leaned over the porch railing, thinking.
"But, you can cure people!"
"Of Leprosy. You know any lepers around?"
"What about feeding the world? The bread and fish thing?"
"Tried that. I need to give it to people directly and it only lasts a meal. I don't really want to devote the rest of my life to handing out stale bread."
She turned around and leaned back against the railing, trying to remember her Sunday School. I took the opportunity to perform a miracle and grabbed another fishstick.
"Is that why you're always throwing dinner parties then?"
I laughed. "Pretty much. It's basically the one upside."
"Huh... Does anyone else know?"
I looked back in at the rest of my guests. "Yah, Matt saw me walking down the river. And Tim saw me making the wine last year, but he didn't believe me when I told him. A few other people have noticed too. But I'm trying to keep it quiet."
She nodded. "Oh, don't worry. I won't tell anyone!"
I thanked her and moved back inside, going to my "Wine Cellar" to fetch another bottle of the '82 Dasani. Matt followed me.
"So, how'd it go with Judy? She seemed excited."
I thought for a moment before answering.
"Honestly? This is probably going to be the last party I can throw for a while. I think she's going to sell me out to the tabloids. They'd probably pay 30 Grand for proof of this."
---
Read more at /r/CriticalHitWrites | "So, what happens now?" I asked, staring at God. "Do I suddenly manifest abilities?" God smiled down at me, but it didn't seem genuine. It seemed condescending.
"Just give me a second, I need to set everything up just right for you." God smirked at me this time, and I saw something glinting in his eyes. After a couple of seconds, just before I asked again, he brightened. "Oh, there we go!" He snapped his fingers, and I shot off of the planet to hover in space.
"So, these are my powers? I get to float and not die in space?" God grinned openly, but I saw that same, hard something glint in his eyes.
"No, we haven't even started!" Just as he said that, I felt myself begin to grow. As first, I was happy. I thought I would be a giant. But, I didn't stop growing, and I wasn't just growing vertically. Eventually, God halted my growth at the size of a small planet. By this point, I couldn't barely feel anything on my body. I knew that I had made a mistake, I just didn't know what it was.
God grinned at me again, and we zoomed through space once more. We finally came to a halt somewhere near Uranus, but I didn't know what we were doing there.
"See, your problem here was that you didn't think to say which god, so I decided to fudge the boundaries a bit. I know Gaia isn't really a god, but... Close enough!"
"So, what powers do I have?" I asked, forcing the words through my teeth. They were numb, like the rest of my body, and I could barely get the words out.
"You are the size of a moon, and you can occasionally shake. Ooh, the best part is that you can have lots of kids! I must be going, so I'm going to put you into orbit around Uranus. It's got so many moons, the humans won't notice another." God winked at me and shot me off into the distance around Uranus, where I sat, trying very hard not to fall asleep. I knew I wouldn't wake for a long time.
​
r/SkiddyBiddyBop. Tell me if there are any errors. | 2019-03-02T19:32:13 | 2019-03-02T18:49:47 | 54 | 25 |
[WP]: it's the year 2057. Queen Elizabeth still reigns. People are getting suspicious. | Buckingham Palace. Here I am. Here to confront...
Her...
I marched through the castle, past all the guards who just stood there staring at me
She knew I was coming. Why did I think any differently?
I made my way up the flights of stairs until I reached it. Her room. The guards stationed there grinned as they opened the doors and I walked through, only to see her with a smug smile on her face
"Welcome to London, Mr. Franklin. I trust you've enjoyed your visit thus far?
"I'm afraid I'm here for business, not pleasure."
"I see. You're here to kill me, yes?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She cackled, "Then have at it! Better men than you have tried. You'll still come up short. What will you be using? Gun? Spear? Sword? Poison dart? The list goes on. All have been used, none have succeeded. So what do you bring?"
I pulled out a radio and gently placed it on the desk. I turned it on and let the voices over it play as I explained my choice to her.
"I've just arrived here in London from Edinburgh, where rebel forces have been pinned down for a month. I, an American, slipped through the English lines and made my way to London after my work was completed. Straight here to see you. All so I could see if I'm right about something.
"I noticed some things while in my studies about the English Monarchy. You all draw your power from your subjects. Whenever there's a great territorial change, however, monarchs tend to die off. During your reign, though, there have been no great territorial changes....well, not yet anyway."
Her smug smile turned to a disdainful frown. "Yes, you're right. And there never will be, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland is strong, the rebels in the North will fall, and i will continue to reign as monarch until the end of time.
"Heh..." I chuckled. "You think so? Because for someone who's going to reign until the end of time...." I paused and smiled and looked down at the radio, so did she.
*Edinburgh is liberated! The last of the English forces have been purged from Scotland! We are free of the English Royal Oppressors! Long Live the Republic of Scotland!*
A look of horror crossed her face. "What...What...?"
"-did I do up there in Edinburgh? Oh nothing of consequence....just resupplied the rebels. Looks like there is no more United Kingdom... Just England...Great Britain is dead....and you'll die with it."
She began to age rapidly. She grabbed a letter opener from her desk and stabbed at me, but I dodged it and seized the letter opener. She hunched over her desk, gasping for breath.
"Now, for everything you've ever done to my family, our ancestors....South Africa, the East Indes, our colonies in the Americas...." I stabbed the letter opener into the desk beside her, her gasps grew more rapid as the skin began to fall like birch bark from her frame.
"The House of Orange sends their regards."
All that was left was a skeleton in a blue suit and a big blue hat slumped over the queen's desk.
I left the office, smiling as I made my way through the palace, the guards looked on in horror as I strode out the doors. A helicopter was waiting for me, the symbol of the House of Orange branded the side of it. I smiled one last time. After centuries of exile, my family would finally go home. I had redeemed us.
Goodbye, Elizabeth. Thanks for the step up. | "Long live the queen." I say without thinking. The small living room falls quiet, fanning out rapidly around me. The party grows awkward quickly. They are all new friends, so I don't know what to do now.
Dan, who had been laughing just moments earlier, is straight faced and leans to my ear. "Watch what you say." He wait until I look at him, lifts an eyebrow and holds his head close for a second more than I was comfortable with before he leaves my shoulder alone.
The party slowly picks up again and I thought everything was setting back to normal until Dan pull me outside several hours later to "look at the stars", so he says.
I complain a little, grab my jacket and go outside with him, Dan following closely behind me, almost forcing me out the door. Outside the door, across he yard there is a group of strangers, looking less than happy with something. I muster a half smile (all I could manage) and wait for an explanation, looking to Dan.
"Here he is, can I go now?" Dan asks the group, ignoring me.
A tall, bearded man wearing an old fashioned top hat steps forward and shakes my hand, his grip strong and leading, meeting my fake smile with one of his own. "I understand you're James?"
I nod imperceptibly, but he caught the signal and releases my hand. He waves for me to follow, then adds words to it, his face turning almost apologetic. "James, we have some questions. It won't be long."
I reluctantly get in the car, my new friends betraying me must have broken my resistance. Something about all theses men is familiar, but I can't say for sure what. The man in the top hat sat next to me in the back seat. The passenger wore a hideous white wig that left a white powder whenever it rubbed against something. The driver was a bit heavyset an wore small, circular glasses.
The TopHat breaks my nostalgia with his questions that for some reason surprised me, forgetting why I got in the car to begin with. "What do you know about your queen?" He asks me.
I shrug "I'm just your average butler, what would I know any different?"
He smiles and continues "Have you noticed any changes either there or in yourself since you started?"
"No. I'm relatively new. Maybe you should ask Sam. She has been there longer."
"Sam is dead, James."
I freeze. The car stops. Everyone gets out, then my door opens and they "help" me out, open the trunk and pull out several guns. I have no idea what is going on.
TopHat puts his hand on my shoulder and pushes my shirt to the side a little over so it shows my skin, revealing many bite wounds. My face turns white and memories come back to me.
"We know, James. And we are here to stop it."
I fall to the floor. How long have I been here? How did I get here? The spell was losing its hold on me.
The wigged man looks over at TopHat. "You ready, Lincoln?"
Lincoln nods. "Let's go kill us a vampire." | 2015-01-20T05:44:55 | 2015-01-20T04:26:38 | 38 | 20 |
[WP] Death offers a game for your life. You decide on D&D.
Edit: Holy shit! I leave for a few days to study for exams and this post blew up. Thank you all so much! | "I choose an RPG!" I said.
Death, tall grim skeleton-specter, smiled back. Of course, as a skull, it didn't have much choice but to be smiling. "Clever," it said. "A game that has no win condition, that can even be argued to not have a losing condition."
"You said any game," I pointed out. I was acting calm, but internally I knew how much of a gamble this was. Still, I was already dead, the worst case was that I'd go on to whatever was already ahead of me.
"This RPG," Death said, "it would have you take the role of a character. And you would, in essence, be that character, yes?"
I nodded. "Right," I said. I'd been prepared to explain to Death what an RPG was, but this apparently wasn't necessary.
Death seemed thoughtful. "And how long would this game last?"
I shrugged. "As long as the character keeps going, I guess. And like you said, that's not necessarily losing if he dies."
"So, a game that lasts a literal lifetime, a game where you are in-character, a game with challenges and pitfalls. One that has rules, but is not necessarily fair."
"So?" I said. "Can we play?"
Death's grin became impossibly wider. "Child," it said, "what do you think that life you just lived *was*?" | Chad was furiously flipping through the instructions. What ever had prompted him to offer a game of D&D to Death in exchange for his life?
He didn't even know how to play. Luckily, Death said it was much more fun if there were more people, so he was going down to the local game store to find more players.
Suddenly, Death appeared with two teenagers. The book dropped out of Chad's hands and he shoved it under the bed with his foot.
"To even the odds, I will allow these two players to assist you. If any of you can beat me in my favorite card game, all of your lives will be spared," Death said, his breath reeking of him.
Chad pressed the button on the Lysol can and leaned towards the teenagers. "Do either of you know how to play D&D?" he whispered.
The younger one, his eyes nearly bugging out, shifted a frightened glance at Chad. "Dude, he said card game. I thought we going to play Pokemon." | 2017-05-11T08:45:43 | 2017-05-11T08:11:31 | 219 | 19 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | Ever remember that scene from "The Sixth Sense", where the little kid says "I see dead people?". That was pretty much exactly how I first tried to tell people about my power. I was only six, and my parents laughed it off. My father is going to die in a car accident. My mother, a heart attack.
You see, I can see how people die. Their cause of death is shown in a little text box over their head. It normally shows something like my parents, an accident, or just old age. I tried to help people as I got older, trying to give people as much time as possible. I told cancers to get a check-up arranged. Car accidents to drive safely. Every goddamn one of them laughed it off. Said I was crazy. Well, Charlene died from a car accident a few weeks later. John has terminal cancer. Every single one of them died. I stopped trying soon after Sarah died from a drug overdose.
At first, there was no time. I couldn't tell when these deaths were going to happen, just how they were. Then, I noticed people's words becoming more opague. The closer they were, the more solid the words became. As I grew older, I noticed that they were cracking, shot through with veins of color. I started guessing how long they had, choosing the urgent cases, the brick-like car accidents and the tombstone murders. I couldn't interfere, just tell them to be careful. I examined them, carefully noting the color change. I soon had a system.
Blues, the long term people. Two decades or more, I'd guess. Greens, a decade. Yellows had a year, two tops. Reds, the next few months. Purples, a week. Blacks, a day or two.
I was sitting on a bus when I saw him. A boy, the same age as me, leaning his head against the window, looking out at the world passing by. Among all the other passengers, he was the only purple one, the rest a mess of greens and blues. There was a few yellows too.
Everyone else had the usual. Car accidents, cancer, one tiger, that was going to be rough. Nothing too bad. He had the word "suicide", surrounded by deep purple.
He lifted his head off the window, and glanced down at his hands. He seemed to have made a decision.
I watched as the colors shifted from purple to black.
I had promised myself not to interfere again.
I smashed that promise into smithereens as I got up and sat beside him.
"Hey, can I talk to you? My name's Nick... are you okay?"
He glanced up at me, and then back at his hands. I saw a hint of a smile...
Just on the edge of my vision, because I was too busy staring at the text box. It now read "old age", in the palest, most beautiful and perfect tracery of blue you can imagine.
**Thank you all so much for all the lovely comments. I had no idea how much of a reaction this reply would get. Thank you, thank you, thank you! <3** | I don't know why I can see them, but I can. How people die, floating above their heads. I've always been able to see it, and I've prevented a few. They rarely change, but it's possible. I've always liked to view myself as some holy saviour, going out of my way to prevent deaths.
I live in a small town, far away from any major cities. Most people know most people, it's very cosy, and that's how I like it. But that was all about to change, as I found out when I walked into the bar and I saw a "Murder" sign.
I'd seen them before, of course, but this one was different, because... Well, it was surrounded by others. Everyone in the bar had it. Was there a serial killer new in town? Or was somebody going to blow up the bar? I popped back out the bar and saw a few people with different signs down the road, so I figured the latter made more sense. So, I had to get people out of the bar.
Now, I couldn't just tell everybody to get out, they'd never believe me. I had to force them out. I stepped outside to light a cigarette whilst I thought about it and, fondling my lighter, the idea sprung into my head. I'd save them all. Maybe they'd miss the bar, but half of them had alcohol poisoning before, so I'd save them twice.
I went down the alley to the side of the bar and snuck in the back. I was in the kitchen, but there was nobody there, it being late on a thursday. I turned on all the gas stoves and snuck upstairs, quietly, into one of the bedrooms, and I took my lighter and set fire to the bed. I did it to a few other beds as well until we had a good blaze going. "This will get them out," I remember thinking. I pulled the fire alarm and ran out the back, down the alleyway and out the front... Nobody was there. I walked in the front door of the bar, and I learned that the fire alarm down hear hadn't gone off. I could just hear the upstairs one, but anybody would think it was an alarm in a distant building. I shouted, "Everybody! There's a fire! You need to-" and the explosion knocked me backwards into the street. I thought turning the gas stoves on would just spread the fire quicker, not explode...
I woke up on the other side of the street, medics tending to me as firemen ran around, putting out what was left of the blaze. "Nobody made it out alive", I heard a lady on camera say. I drifted back into unconciousness. I'd never wake up. | 2015-03-31T11:10:46 | 2015-03-31T09:09:36 | 241 | 63 |
[WP] Three weary survivors around a fire recount how the apocalypse happened - but their stories aren't the same. | ######[](#dropcap)
The green cloaked one shrugged noiselessly, his face lined by shadows and the flickering firelight.
"It doesn't matter. I've heard a thousand different accounts from a thousand different tongues, and in the end it's all the same. Violence, destruction, and death. I saw Arrival Day as a young man, killed my first Fae that same night. Your sister likely killed her first Man then as well. You never forget your first. He was a Spriggan, I'm fairly sure, and he'd just tumbled through a broken window of a shop on Grand River. He was a youth, coltish and eager to prove himself. He cut down an older woman hiding behind a clothes rack, sliced clean through her breastbone and into her lungs. She died coughing up a spray of red blood. He killed a girl I knew from Biology, stabbed her through the eye with his parrying dagger.
"He killed another half-dozen in as many heartbeats, cutting his way through the broken remains of the store like some whirling dervish. He didn't see me though. I broke his knee with a metal stand, must've shattered it into a dozen pieces. He screamed, half in pain and half in outrage that a mere *Scathalith* could touch him. I smashed that piece of metal onto his head, saw his eye burst from the impact. I cracked his skull, dished it out so that bits of brain and blood splattered across the floor.
He glanced at the other faces in the firelight, his green-gray eyes cold.
"I'm sure your experiences were somewhat... different. And to be perfectly honest, I don't a fuck what they are. All I know is that everyone who I'd every cared for, and loved died that night, whether to Fae blades or magic, or dragonfire. And if they didn't, then in the Arrival Wars and Dying Times which followed. As far as I'm concerned, your trials and hardships aren't worth a tinker's damn compared to what I've seen, what I've done to survive. And they never will."
He rose, his green cloak draping around his form and rendering him almost invisible in the darkness.
"I don't give a *fuck* to your woes and petty concerns. I don't give a *Fuck* about the struggles of your pathetic little kingdoms and houses. They are nothing, brief flicks of light in a everlasting void. Everything is. My hatred, your fears and hopes, they are all meaningless in comparison. So go ahead, lament on how terrible your first few years on this world not your own. In the end the worms and crows won't care."
| "Picture this: I'm sitting at my desk, sipping a cup of joe, and then ... fire. Didn't take long to work out exactly what had happened."
"And what HAD happened?"
"Well, the way I see it, those damn reds had hit us with everything they had."
"Bullshit, that's not how it went down!"
"It is too!"
"No, no, he's right, that's not how I remember it either. Seven o'clock, the tremors started. Nothing out of the ordinary I thought, we're talking about the west coast here ..."
"So?"
"So, I got into my car, headed down the street and BOOM; I kissed my ass goodbye."
"I'm telling you; nukes, a whole lotta' them!"
"Read my lips asshole ... vol-ca-no."
"Yellowstone?"
"I'd put my money on it."
"Pfffft, you're talking crazy."
"Whatever man. That's my side of the story. Now what about you bud, you saw the eruption too right?"
"Well, I can't say I saw any ... eruption ..."
"Oh for f-"
"But ... I sure as hell saw something else. There were four of 'em, four riders. When I say riders man, I'm talking horsemen, not one, not two, but four. Trumpets too, I swear on my mother's grave, loud as can be. We have witnessed the end of days gentlemen."
"What a load of crap."
"Amen to that."
"Whatever, I didn't expect you to believe me anyway."
"At least our stories had some consist-"
"How about we just agree to disagree, hmm?"
"Fine, fine, suits me."
"Hey man, I'm not complaining, just pass me the booze and let's drink to the present."
"To the present!"
There's a moment of silence as the travellers share a bottle of malt whiskey.
"Never thought I'd be sharing a drink with a pair of commies ..."
"Goddamnit Mark won't you let it go?"
"It was the chi-neeese! I'm tellin' ya'!"
"You really ARE a little touched in the head, aren't you?"
| 2017-01-07T07:05:00 | 2017-01-07T06:44:50 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You are an Australian test cricket selector. You keep on selecting Mitch Marsh for the test team, and then you are forced to justify your choice. | Those pictures will ruin my life I thought to myself. I'll lose my job, my wife, my kids. How did he get them? God dammit I wish he wasn't so shit. I have the entire Australian public breathing down my neck because this fuckwit can't score a run on the roadiest of roads. Ok time to face the media and come up with an excuse as to why this dickhead keeps getting selected.
Ok thanks for joining us everybody. We have decided to select Mitch Marsh again because we believe he has the potential to become a great cricketer we just feel he needs to get a few more games to get his mojo back. Remember that one time he had a half decent innings. Envision if he did that again wouldn't it be great. | Marsh is a good batsman. We feel he adds a lot with the ball as a 4th seam option which we need if Siddle plays. In fact if we play both Siddle is essentially the batter and Marsh the specialist bowler. Marsh is also a wicket-keeping option for when we bring Matthew Wade in for a few overs. | 2016-11-05T21:40:11 | 2016-11-05T21:35:54 | 29 | 21 |
[WP] In a world where reincarnation with a full knowledge of your past life is real, authorities struggle to protect society by keeping the worst criminals and serial killers in prison alive for as long as possible to delay their eventual escape back into society via the reincarnation process. | Julia looked over the array of suspects. Twelve babies and a goat.
"Careful, one of them is a serial killer," she said to the nurses and the farmer. "I've been chasing The Cycle Killer through four lives."
What she did not say was that it was her fault that they had escaped again. Five minutes without being watched, and Cycle had managed to die, just to be reincarnated to do it all over again.
It had taken the spooks three months to narrow down these suspects. Julia understood that the babies were all born at the right time, and near one of the reincarnation nexus points that aligned with Cycle's death. The goat was a less likely suspect, but just the sort of thing they might try.
The first baby grabbed her finger when she looked into its eyes. The second baby tried to eat her entire hand. Julia wasn't sure if that was latent cannibalism or just normal baby stuff. The third baby ignored her, trying to find it's rattle hidden under its blanket. On down the line she went, examining each one.
The nurses thought it was the eighth baby, who had never cried. It had been born to a rich family, just the sort of target that the Cycle Killer looked for. Most of the rest had poor families.
The farmer thought it was the goat. Julia was pretty sure he just wanted to be able to sell the goat to her.
In the end she decided to keep the eighth baby and the goat for further observation. If one of them proved to be the killer, they would spend the next two decades in a rehabilitation and therapy clinic. The rest could go home for occasional checkups.
The nurses started handing babies back to relieved parents. The first baby was sleeping now. The second baby was still trying to eat every hand. The third had found its rattle.
She turned to leave when it struck her. The third had found its rattle, hidden under the blanket. She ran after that family.
A three month old had been looking for something that it could not see, and object permanence did not normally develop until around eight months.
She took the baby. As she looked into its eyes she said, "Got you, motherfucker!" | Breaking News this hour, The Weedout Act has just passed the House and is expected to be voted on in the senate by as early as this afternoon. For any just tuning in, this of course is the highly contested, highly partisan bill that was drafted as a response to the issue of the so-called “multi-life criminals”, those that have chosen to commit violent acts in both their current life and the next. The proposed bill would punish violent offenders by applying a new technology in the field of cryogenics that would deep freeze convicted felons in a state of suspended animation. This practice, largely decried as inhumane would keep them alive theoretically forever but without the need for direct supervision. We have a panel of experts in law, the technology involved, as well as a senator who will be voting this afternoon. That and more after the break…
More on the top story this week, the Weedout Act passed the senate this afternoon with a near 100% party line vote. The law will be start being implemented at the start of the month with those already convicted of violent crimes being processed first. Of course this will apply to any future convictions. Some are saying this is what was needed to make our streets and correctional facilities safer. One senator suggested more needs to be done and that perhaps in the near future a new vote to expand the list of covered crimes will be discussed. Our house legal analyst will weigh in on that after we come back from this weekend’s weather forecast…
Breaking news this morning. In the wake of the bill being passed and signed into law by the president there has been a rash of suicides and attempted suicides from those that face what has already been termed the “ice box”. What that means for you and more after these brief messages. | 2021-10-08T08:55:06 | 2021-10-08T08:41:20 | 151 | 43 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | "10" I said unconsciously.
My friend tore his eyes away from the girl walking past us down the hall and stared at me in surprise.
"A 10? Really?" He turns his gaze back to her. "Dude I'll admit she's a looker, but I'd say more of an 8. Not 10 material, but eh different stokes for different folks."
I wasn't listening anymore. I was looking at her receding form shocked at what I had just said.
*10!?* I thought to myself. *Impossible I'd never seen a 10 before.*
My friend laughed and gave my shoulder a good natured shove.
"Got a thing for the new girl do ya Rook? Ello earth to Tomas anyone home?"
I got up abruptly and made to follow her, quickening my pace as to not lose her. My mind was racing. The highest I'd ever met was my uncle Cernes when he came back from Iraq. He was special forces and he was an 7. Even those warlords and politicians on the news never made it past 8. I couldn't imagine what danger this slight girl, barely above 5 feet, possessed to warrant her a 10 on my scale. I was determined to find out.
Gaining now I thought of how to get her alone. In the packed halls she didn't hear my footsteps on the linoleum floors until I was just behind her. She barely had a second to glance at me before I grabbed her arm and pulled her into an empty classroom. I hope not too many students saw...
Once we were in I closed and locked the door before turning around to face her. She looked up at me open mouthed. Muttering something to herself. I was afraid too. More afraid than I'd like to admit, but I knew what had to be done.
"Who are you?" I hissed. Trying my best to sound angry. Trying not to let my voice tremble.
She opened her mouth to scream but with one quick step I closed the distance between us and put my hand over her mouth effectively silencing her. Dragging her shaking form away from the window on the classroom door I pinned her against the wall. I could see the abject terror in her eyes. I wasn't taking any chances. I HAD to know.
"I'm going to take my hand away from your face now and you are going to answer some questions. Understand?" She nodded best she could with my hand holding her. Slowly I took my hand off her mouth and she took wavering breath, looking like she was about to cry. In that moment I felt awful and more ashamed than I ever had in my life.
*This is necessary* I told myself again taking a step back to give her room to breath.
She was shaking uncontrollably and muttering something over and over again. Staring at me with a look of fear and incomprehension. I breathed in to gather my thoughts again, but before I could say anything more she spoke up.
"I can see the numbers in your eyes. Your like me." My heart stopped. That calm I had been gathering for the coming interrogation, shattered.
"W-what did you say." I couldn't keep the fear out of my voice this time. She noticed my resolve crumbling and took a tentative step away from the wall. I could see a flicker in her iris now. So faint you'd surely miss it if you weren't looking for it. Numbers. I moved in closer. She didn't step away. I could see them clearly now. Her gaze still held incalculable fear. 10s. Dozens of 10s popping in and out of existence just under the surface of her eyes. So lost was I in those numbers and what they meant. Before I could react she deftly reached into my jeans pocket and pulled out my pen. Swinging it around faster than I could follow she stabbed me with it in the gut.
I couldn't process what had just happened. With more force than I'd thought possible for a girl of her size she brought up her knee and shoved the pen farther in before pushing my unresponding form into the desk. I crashed into them and felt something snap. Whether it was outside or inside my body I wasn't sure. Through vision clouded with pain I saw her reach back and pull the fire-alarm, and heard the click of the door automatically unlocking as cool water rained down from the emergency sprinklers. She ran.
I sat there for some time thinking. Barely feeling the pain in my gut and the water pooled with my blood. She too saw the numbers, and she was a 10. I had to find her again. | We were in History and we were doing what we usually did, which is to say fucking around and joking and flirting all under the guise of diligent group study. I had my circle, my group of friends, with whom I shared almost everything apart from my ‘talent’. Tom sat to my right, his mouth sloped upwards in a lazy grin and his hand rested on his oversized midsection. A hazy green number two floated above his head, invisible to all the world but me. Across the table from me sat Cat, trying to twirl a bright purple pen in her fingers whilst talking about how she and her sister took the family tractor for a drunken joyride last weekend to celebrate the fact that she got her purple belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. The number four which hung above her deceptively innocent head was identical in colour to the pen in her hands. And Scarlett sat to my left, regularly touching my leg and shoulder and laughing hysterically at all my crude and forced innuendos and jokes. I could never see the number above her head, just a cloud of sorts with no definable colour or form. She was my mystery. But then The Kid came, and I found an even bigger one.
You see, I had been able to see the numbers since the day I was born, and I knew what they meant before I even had the cognitive capacity to put it into words. They meant danger. The higher the number the more dangerous the person, and vice versa. I had noticed that the higher numbers had their own texture, I could feel them as well as see them. I struggle to put this into words as it is intangible, this ability of mine is inherent and intuitive, but I will try. My ex-convict father, who I still have the displeasure of enduring for two hours every month, had a sagging and scratchy number Six suspended above his bald and empty head, whilst the Prime Minister has an angry and rough looking number Nine bubbling above his. The Kid, however, had a tranquil and soft number ten which felt like running water sat serenely over him. He walked into the class and introduced himself to the teacher, saying that he was sorry for being late but it was his first day and he couldn't find the department. Our lovely teacher then grunted at him to join our group and continued looking at whatever website he was on. We guessed it was either a job-seeking website or porn.
I should have been terrified. The man who perpetrated one of those mass shooting over in the states whom I saw on the news this morning was only a seven, and world leaders were only a nine. I had thought that I would never see a ten. But the way that number ten felt, not sharp and aggressive like the eights and nines, calmed me. In fact, The Kid’s presence seemed to calm everyone.
“Hey, you guys mind if I work with you? I don’t know many people yet” he asked with complete comfort and a warm smile.
“Sure thing” Cat answered immediately.
The Kid pulled up a chair and sat between me and Scarlett and asked what we were working on.
“Well, we’re supposed to be creating a timeline of the reign of Elizabeth I” I told him.
Throughout the lesson he was the focal point of the group, delegating jobs and specific years to research and collating the information himself. Everytime he spoke people listened. Well, everyone apart from me. I was just trying to understand why he was a ten, what made him so dangerous? When I looked around the group everyone was taken by him. Scarlett was now leaning into him instead of me, whilst Cat was listening to his stories as opposed to telling them herself for a change. And that was when I realised. That was when I understood why it was that he was the ten. They say the pen is mightier than the sword, but the tongue blows them both out of the fucking water. It went on like this for a further twenty minutes or so. I tried interjecting with a joke but nobody laughed, not even Scarlett, and Cat just told me to shut up and let him finish his story.
| 2014-11-29T15:22:56 | 2014-11-29T15:22:15 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] You form a pact with the monster in your closet to work together in order to get rid of your terrible roommate. | Mommy was crying again. I walked into Matty’s room. Matty was in his crib crying, too, but that was okay because he always cries. Mommy was in the chair and I went up to her and hugged her leg.
“Mommy, don’t cry,” I said. I climbed into her lap and she hugged me, but she didn’t stop crying. “I love you,” I said. She hugged me tighter, so I patted her back.
“Do you want some water?” I asked. Because that’s what you do when people cry.
“No,” she said. “It’s okay.” Then she laughed and hugged me more and stopped crying.
“I’m good because I helped you feel better, right?”
“Yes, you are a very good boy.”
“Matty is bad because he made you cry again.”
“No,” she said. “Matty is a baby. He cries because he has colic. He can’t help it.” She picked me up and carried me out of the room.
“Why can’t he help it?”
“Because he’s just a baby.”
“When I was a baby, did I cry that much?”
Mommy smiled. “No,” she said. “You were a very sweet baby.” She pressed her nose to my nose and sniffed. I gave her a great big hug. Then she put me down and I went to play trains.
Daddy didn’t come home until late. I was in bed. I am very sneaky. I can pretend to be asleep and fool everybody. Matty was crying again, and I heard Mommy say “I don’t know if I can do this any more.” Then she started crying again, too.
I knew I had to be brave. I went out of the bed and to the closet. Then I took a deep breath. I opened the door slowly, because I was scared.
“Mumpo,” I said. I whispered because it was night-time and I’m not allowed to make a lot of noise at night0time, but also because I was being sneaky. “Come out I know you’re in there.”
Mumpo made a scary bump noise, but he didn’t come out.
“Mumpo, please.”
Mumpo has eyes he carries around with him. He can throw them if he wants to see far. He rolled one outside the closet to look at me. It went squish.
“Mumpo, I need you to take Matty away,” I said. “Far away, so mommy won’t cry any more. Take him away and make him be quiet.”
Mumpo’s eye looked at me. It blinked. From the back of the closet, I heard him say: “Yes.”
[r/robotdevilhands](https://www.reddit.com/r/robotdevilhands/) | Steve never believed in it but I knew it was real. It gave me nightmares threatened anyone close to me but frankly it was still nicer than my roommate Steve. I'd tried everything to get rid of Steve but nothing ever worked if anything it made him more attached to my apartment. One night, after Steve somehow caused a fire making a hot pocket, when it came out to mess with me I just stared at the ceiling. I told it I'd had a long day and didn't wana deal with this shit. Didn't stop it, it still tried but got no reaction. Then it mentioned how sad I was for not being to deal with this asshat. That was the last straw. Then and there I formed a plan, I left town for the weekend to visit family. Rather than ask my girlfriend to help keep Steve under control, I left Steve in charge. I came back 3 days later to find things exactly how I expected. Doors missing, few broken windows, we got a goldfish, and somehow my bed got stolen. That night in my sleeping bag I rolled over to see it in the closet. I gave it a smile and said welcome to my world. We then and there to get rid of this asshat once and for all. First it was small stuff sending it into his room to try and torment him, he tried to burn it. We tried to hide his drugs, so he just stockpiled twice as many buying them with my money. As we grew more desperate we tried things like physically holding his bedroom door shut to try and convince him the house really was haunted, all that did was give me a fear of exorcists. So at long last both it and me approached Steve and asked what it take to get him to leave our place. "Wait our place you mean this thing lives here too? How long has it been here?" Steve said. "It was already here when I moved in." I replied wondering where this was going. "Will shit, our lease says only two occupants so I guess I gotta go. It's been nice living here and I hope we can stay in touch. I'll go pack my things." Steve said before calmly walking back to his room. Not long after Steve left so did it. Said it didn't wana deal with humans ever again. | 2017-03-16T09:36:09 | 2017-03-16T08:10:01 | 100 | 29 |
[WP] Every human has a 'luck rating' - a number from 1-100 that defines how lucky they can be. Born with a rating of 100, you're confined in a maximum security prison. You think your luck should get you out easily - that is, until you see that all the other inmates also have luck ratings of 100. | You ever heard of plot armor? How your favorite heroes get out of ridiculous situations despite there being no good reason for them to be able to succeed? 100 luck is like having plot armor. You can’t die. You can’t lose. People wonder at how bad luck fits into the equation, and simply put, at 100 you have no bad luck. At 1.... well, they usually don’t even make it out of the womb.
That being said, I have 100 luck. Not bad, right? I could do whatever I want and succeed. If I wanted to do brain surgery I could close my eyes and swing at the patient’s brain with a sledgehammer, so long as I want them to live and heal, somehow it’ll go right. There’s a lot of capacity for good, a lot for bad. A few years ago someone with 100 luck threw a dart into the air aiming for German chancellor’s head... while they were sitting in Hawaii. That dart rode the wind currents across the world right into Berlin where it blew the chancellor’s head off. A dart they half-heartedly tossed while sipping a fucking mojito.
This was rare, since most 100 luck people are thrown into jail. Myself included. What I’ve been trying to figure out is how this prison at the bottom of the Atlantic is fair or lucky. I got my answer when the world exploded. Someone got uppity with the nukes, one thing led to another, now our air tight prison is floating through space. Pretty lucky to be the only survivors. On top of that, we have 500 males and 500 females on board our little slice of life.
I’d say we have a good shot at repopulation, especially since each guy has a gal and each gal has a guy. Everyone has fallen in love perfectly with one person that nobody else loved. Big shocker here, one couple already had a kid. Okay, whatever. Thing is, she has a 100 luck rating as well. I’d venture a guess we’ll all be having 100 luck kids.
I was worried we’d run out of food, but a warehouse full of it somehow crashed into our big home and created an air tight seal. We estimate a good 30 years out of it. It’s not a problem until it’s a problem, you know? I’m kind of assuming we’ll crash land on some world lush with life and perfect for our survival. A literal paradise. I’ll be honest, the future seems bright. Hell, I bet we could even conquer the universe.
Edit: Part 2 is up! https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8uu474/comment/e1ir4bh?st=JJ0IWUHY&sh=0aa9d3dc
Edit 2: I’m going to work on a Part 3 later today, I’ll shoot replies to those of you looking for it. It will likely take the form of an HFY post just for organization and depending on how far I want to bring this. | The intake was as expected - a bit rough, a little too handsy, and a small inkling that the guard liked me a bit more than was necessary. I'd heard of full body cavity searches, hosed down with icy cold water, being pushed naked and wet into rooms of other people. You know, general Hollywood type stuff.
I managed through pretty quickly. While I WAS searched and hosed, the water was warm and the search not too thorough. When my papers had been finished they dropped me into the general population out in the yard, sun shining on our banana yellow jumpsuits. Jailed for being lucky - what a crock. I doubted I would be there long, things always went my way and I had no intention of rotting in a cell for the rest of my life.
Luck rating tests were given out to every 18 year old. It was presumed that before that your rating could fluctuate too much, and stabilized in your 17th year. Nobody knew what happened to the 100s - well, I do now - and I assume all the 1s died pretty early in life. Such is luck.
A rather handsome man walked up to me, standing awkwardly in the middle of a bare patch of ground. His smile was warm, and he genuinely didn't seem to be much of a criminal. Not many of them did.
"Another 100! Welcome!" He broke into a trot, and held his hand out to mine. "Been a while since the last, figured it was starting already.
"What was starting?" I asked, taking his hand cautiously. "Why have none of you left yet?"
He shrugged. "None of us want to. Free food, free housing, comfortable rooms, the food isn't THAT bad, and a constant routine that changes just enough to not drive us crazy. It's nice." He motioned to the rest of the inmates. Odd groups here and there, there seemed to be about 20 of us. "As for what's about to start..." He paused, and grinned like he was about to drop the punchline to a big joke. "I guess you'll see. Any day now."
Fade - yes, he legally changed his name to Fade - seemed to be the most outgoing of the 100s in the prison. The guards were more relaxed around him, the other inmates joked with him, and he got extra food in the canteen. A natural leader, where I preferred to stick to the shadows. A perfect first friend to have, since I hated the attentive eyes of the Warden.
It was the fourth day after I arrived that the sky started to fall. | 2018-06-29T10:08:34 | 2018-06-29T10:01:31 | 5,321 | 183 |
[WP] A demon who is really bad at his job keeps accidentally making the person he is possessing's life better | "Dude, it's like he's possessed or something!" Jeremy shouted over the roar of applause between songs.
The "Satan's Armada" concert was sold out for the very first time. This was the opening night of their very first world tour. By all reports, William Gladstone, the lead singer, was putting on the performance of a lifetime. His eyes seemed impossibility wide and unblinking. He stood motionless at times, then would unleash an alien and deafening rasp into the microphone, much to the delight of the audience. His body would tremor and falter; "the last true showman of death metal" the media would later write.
As the show drew to an end and the pyrotechnics tinted the audience with hues of blue and orange, William stood in the middle of the stage. At each crack he would lunge and wail at the source. The crowd went a little wilder with each outburst from the singer.
"Duuuude!!! BEST CONCERT EVER!!" Jeremy shouted again to his friend as the last chorus of the night began to fade.
As the curtains closed, William's eyes shut and he fell to the floor. A fitting end to the show.
---
"No sir, I was not aware he was a death metal singer." The demon explained. "I mean in the name of the Antichrist, his name is 'William Gladstone'! Does that sound like the name of a guy who would front such an outfit?"
"Steve, your skills are sharp, there's no denying it." The Boss replied. "The reporters all said they'd have believed him to be well and truly possessed, had they not known any better."
"Thank you, sir!" Steve eagerly acknowledged the praise from his superior.
"Yes, but your research really needs to sharpen up. This can't happen again. First it was the entire audience at a Benny Hinn taping, now this."
---
The fog slowly retreated from William's brain as he awoke inside the tour bus. Outside a crowd gently buzzed, lined up for miles just to sneak a glimpse and hopefully get an autograph. Mobile units from every major network dotted the parking lot.
"William," the voice of his drummer came from just behind him "I don't know what the hell you were on last night but that was EPIC! We are on every station. You are famous my man! WE are famous!" | Progress Sheet: ~~Dezz~~ ~~Dezemon~~ ~~Desmon???~~ D. Emon.
Aug 1
Sneak in lottery ticket into bag. (Failed)
Aug 2
Sneak in lottery ticket into bag. (Failed. Think she saw me. Sorry, my bad.)
Aug 3
Sneak in lottery ticket into bag. (Failed. Accidentally fixed car engine.)
Aug 4
Sneak in lottery ticket into bag. (Failed. Accidental couple formation.)
Aug 5
Sneak in lottery ticket into bag. (Failed. Scared cat....)
Aug 6
Sneak in lottery ticket into bag. (Failed. Roses thought a romantic gesture.)
6a: I acknowledge I'm being plced on performance watch.
Signed: ~~Dezz~~ ~~Dezemon~~ ~~Desmon???~~ D. Emon.
Aug 7
Sneak in lottery ticket into bag. (Success. Note: restocking fridge proved an unnecessary step.)
Aug 8
Check up on subject. (Success. Shrieking confirmed. Subject experienced great happiness. First try :-) )
Item: Take away lottery ticket initiated
Aug 9
Take away lottery ticket (Failed... hmm fixing light proved counter-productive.)
Aug 10
Take away lottery ticket (Sucess. Am improving Boss!)
Aug 11
Check up on subject (Success? Hmm ... subject no longer undergoing despair. Engaged??? Unsure if loss of great amounts of money is an aphrodasiac for human males.)
Item: Present devilish bargain initiated.
Aug 12
Present devilish bargain (Oops, subject already has ticket... dropped lottery ticket on last check-up. Sorry boss. Minor technical glitch. Start again?)
*********
**Employee fired** | 2014-09-04T05:07:57 | 2014-09-04T04:45:53 | 411 | 109 |
[Wp] Write a story that will make me question my morality.
Write a story that is so shocking it will make me question my morality.
Edit: Wow.
| Lins eyelids came down slowly. Her hands went trough the motions of piercing the needle trough the leather. She could do it in her sleep. Yet she wasn't allowed to, or the foreman would slap her again. Lin straightened her back. Football after football went trough her weary hands. It took her only minutes to sew them together. It was hard work. Yet it provided a third of her family's income. Lin was, at this point, twelve years old.
As Josh unwrapped the football, his eyes lit up. He hugged his parents. Even tough they were living in the United States, both parents had to work hard to put Josh's older sister trough college. They were humble people. Even tough they weren't wealthy, they were content with what they had. Their frugality even allowed them to put a bit of money on the side for their retirement. Josh's father worked as a personal trainer. His mother was a nurse.
"Three more!"
Adrian felt the pain in his stomach. He managed to do three more crunches, and then two more. Hiring a personal trainer had proven to be a good investment. He started to really like the way he looked. His confidence went up. He attributed his recent promotion in great parts to his fitness training. Now being a senior engineer at a big robotics company, he led the development of novel manufacturing robots.
Lin was on the streets, begging for spare change. She couldn't find any work since she had been let go at the factory. Her family was struggling to even scrape together enough food. Lin was hungry, and she got desperate. She found a better job. The first time it hurt, but she got used to it soon.
Josh had since gone on to other sports. His football was kept in the garage. It was deflated, nobody had used it in a while. Josh's father now earned more. His wealthy clients felt like he was one of the best trainers around.
Adrian put a lot of effort into his work. He was one of the good ones. He developed better solutions than the other teams. Due to his intellect and his commitment, Adrian quickly rose to the top ranks of his company. He loved everything about his work. In the end, he made peoples' lives so much easier. | The guy that honked was just another impatient urbanite asswhipe. I stand by my decision; who wouldn't stop their car, get out, and help an elderly lady with a walker cross the street. The poor soul could barely stand, and the lights stay green for such a pitifully short time, what chance did she have without a helpful pedestrian? An easy decision.
So when I drove through a northern Ontario road in mid summer, it was interesting to feel an unexpected flood of thoughts and emotions as I drove past a small painted turtle looking like it was about to cross the 2 lane highway. It was a busy road, and not much of a shoulder to park on. I suppose that could be justification for not stopping, but one could also twist that into "If the road was that busy, that just means the turtle needed your help more." Without even thinking about it at that precise moment, I just drove past the cute little thing in it's semi protective shell. I drove past it, with barely a thought to stopping and helping it. There is something unsettling about that.
The next turtle I see is in the middle of the road, it's cracked shell in plain sight, it's insides boiling in the hot sun. Poor little thing, I can't help but feel bad for it.
But how much worse would I feel if it was a person that was hit by that car. What if I drove up to encounter a crowd gathered around the frail corpse of an elderly woman, with her shattered walker thrown off into the woods from the impact. What then? How badly would I feel if I saw that?
I didn't know that old woman I helped, I didn't know that turtle that I didn't. Are they really so different from one another? | 2014-07-07T07:52:08 | 2014-07-07T07:35:29 | 91 | 35 |
[WP] In a world of superheroes and super villians you are perhaps the most successful super villians ever. Your trick is that you don't wear any costume and as far as you know you aren't any superheroes radar. | "What did he look like?" shouted Illustrious Man at the bewildered woman who had seen the robbery.
The woman shivered, due to the cold and the fact that the greatest superhero in the city was screaming at her in a voice that could kill.
"He..." she paused, not knowing what to say. "He was wearing a hat. And gloves." She cowered under Illustrious Man's gaze, knowing that he didn't want to hear such useless information.
"Everyone in the city is wearing a hat and gloves! It's winter!" shouted Illustrious Man. He calmed down, finally realizing that the witness was scared, and would likely give him false information to escape him. He even flashed her an Illustrious smile."I'm sorry. But did he have any memorable features? Scars? Birthmarks? Tattoos? Was he tall? Short? Did he have odd eyes?"
The woman thought for a moment. "Well, he had brown hair, brown eyes, and looked roughly under six feet. I didn't see anything else on him." She smiled nervously.
Illustrious Man thought long and hard. There were at least ten thousand men who matched the description in this part of the city alone. This information was still unhelpful, and he would likely have to investigate the old-fashioned way. But the witness was scared, and it wouldn't do for one of his citizens to be scared of him. So he gave her another smile. "Thank you for your help," he said. "You may go.".
She thanked him and walked away, soon out of sight. Illustrious Man sighed as he headed into the bank. He would have to call his wife, tell her and the kids that he'd be late getting home.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, a brown-haired, brown-eyed, hat-wearing man who stood at 5'11 was carrying a ornately wrapped box. As he strode through the crowd, an office worker bumped him.
Right on cue, he went to the ground, dropping his box. "Watch it!" he yelled at the hapless mark. "That's a vase for my mother in there!".
He didn't need the money, not after his million dollar bank robbery. But he enjoyed testing his best superpower. He was...*the Nondescript.* | I would have loved to tell the man over the phone, "Wait a bit, I'm causing you some inconveniences!" but that would have blown my cover. Not something I was aiming to do. So I tried to keep a happy demeanor whilst blowing up civilians. "I'll be right there, boss," I said cheerily, hanging up. Many people in the city would have loved to get a call from the one and only Superman himself, but not I. I hated the man, but it was key to maintaining my own position. The greatest villain of them all, the faceless assassin and plan-foiler. And no one suspected me at all.
I was over at Superman's base in a moment, and after reviewing the damage I'd created whilst I tried my best to keep a straight face, I was off to Batman's next. I commented on his cave's renovation as we too tried to formulate plans against 'The Villain'. Or so the media called me. I felt both flattered that I was receiving so much attention and terrified that my cover would be blown. But no one cared about who I was, since my faked job took care of that.
When I was done with being the hero I was not, I took off from the bases, flying straight into the heat of action. All the heroes were there, Wonder Woman, Catwoman...the famous names of the heroes of our century. But I blasted them with a tracking missile, stunning them and knocking them to the ground. I laughed as I commanded my own troops to the battlefield, as they stormed over the Justice League's base and took it over. At last, my largest victory was at hand. And not a single person, superhero or civilian, knew who I was under my guise. Or, my plain coat and T-shirt that constituted my battle attire.
Because no one ever suspects the sidekick, eh?
_________________________________________________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | 2017-07-23T06:47:27 | 2017-07-23T06:09:40 | 66 | 13 |
[WP] Your sister disappeared on her way to school, but no one noticed. When you asked your parents they told you you didn’t have a sister. All the family pictures in your house only show you and your parents. You spend the next 7 years investigating until you receive a knock on your door. | I know I have a sister.
And my parents know I know. They've spent years trying to dissuade me, to explain that I'm either conflating some of my cousins as a sister, or maybe just inventing memories. People can do that, you know. They think something is true, but it actually isn't. It's a falsehood, a manufactured pile of brain chemistry.
But I know. I have evidence. And evidence can't be manufactured, at least not outside of a police station. You can't trust them, you see. The man. The birds. The trees. They're all out to get me, and they already got my sister.
She was older than me, though I can't find how much specifically. Either five or ten years. It's hard to really pinpoint, given how deliberately my parents have removed her memory. But I have her diary. I have it hidden, I've always kept it hidden, and even when interrogating and interviewing my parents, I never revealed its existence. The words within, they condemn. And they know.
Mom owed someone. Someone did her a favor in exchange for my sister. Not like for a new car, or the house, or anything like that, but for me. She's going to use me for something too, though I still can't find out what. But I know. I don't need proof for that, it's just a feeling deep in my belly, a certainty and everlasting truth. One day someone will vanish me like my sister, and I must find out why. And how. Specifically to prevent it happening to me.
I keep my shades drawn, as the sun is the enemy. Whatever gave mom me, and took my sister, it works for them. I can't tell who 'They' are, but I know 'They' exist. They've always existed. And they're coming for me.
Whenever I open her journal, the words change. They tell me about secrets, they tell me about musings. They know things my sister had no right to know, but they're here. Sometimes the words look like my own, but that never bothers me. I know she wrote them, and I know 'They' don't want me to know. And even if they come to take me, I won't let them. I keep a gun by the door.
Always loaded, always waiting.
I'm coming close to a breakthrough, you know. I'm coming close to the end of the diary. It talks about me, mostly. About how I started to see things. About how I would stay outside too long, how I was becoming a difficult child. About how I was learning too much, knowing too much, seeing too much. How when I was taken to a therapist, they recommended medication that I never took.
They were afraid I would know. That I would see. That I would know my parents for liars and find my sister. Or brother? It's so hard to keep track, and I can hear something outside, something coming to the door. I peek through the blinds and see someone, a delivery man coming to the door holding a pizza. I think I ordered, but I can't remember. Did I? Or did I not? I don't know. It's too much, there's too much noise and the words in the diary are changing. Sometimes when I open it, my mother's name is on the top, or maybe they named my sister after my mother? It seems likely, but the man on the sidewalk is coming closer and everything has become too loud.
He knocks twice. Is he one of them? Have they come to take me? I can't remember and everything is becoming watery, or noisy, and my head won't stop throbbing.
So I walk to the door. I can't take any chances, and grab the gun resting by it. The guy outside knocks again, saying something about a pizza order. He must hear me pressing my ear to the door.
I press the barrel of the gun to the peephole.
And fire.
---
On the news that night, a story most people tuned out while passively browsing their phone passed in one ear and out the other. About a severely disturbed individual accidentally killing a pizza man, and then raving before disappearing into the woods. Authorities were searching for him, but much to their dismay, seemed to have disappeared.
Without a trace.
r/KallistoWrites | *Knock knock*
I was startled awake by someone knocking at my door. This was the first good night's sleep I've gotten ever since my sister had disappeared. It seemed that everyone had forgotten about her. My parents never remembered her, and every trace of my sister seemed to have disappeared. I was the only one who remembered her. I spent years investigating what could have caused this. So many sleepless nights spent trying to find any trace of my sister. I tried contacting the police, but they didn't take me seriously, and thought I was going crazy. My parents refused to listen to me, and didn't believe anything I told them about my sister. It's been 7 years, and I still miss her dearly.
I got out of bed. As I made my way towards the door, the knocking continued. I finally got to the door, and I answered it. When I opened the door, I saw a man wearing a strange outfit. He was dressed in what looked like a silver jumpsuit with a bulletproof vest on top.
"Excuse me sir, do you remember a girl named Louise Blake?"
I was shocked. "Of course I remember her! She was my sister!"
The man's voice took on a grave tone. He looked confused. "That is surprising," he said, "You shouldn't remember her at all."
"How come?"
"Your sister was erased from existence. When someone is erased from existence, all traces of them disappear, and this includes any memory of them. You, sir, are an anomaly. The sequence of events that have played out in this timeline were so statistically unlikely that even something as insignificant as our conversation defies all logic."
"Why was she erased from existence? Who did this?"
"I did," said the man, "Your sister-"
"How could you?" I yelled, "She was my sister! Why would you do that to her?"
"If you would just let me-" said the man.
I yelled once again, "How could you?"
The man took out a gun, and shot blanks into the air. That shut me up quickly.
"If you would just let me explain, your sister was a war criminal. I am from the year 2077. In my timeline, she grew up to become a politician. She eventually staged a coup, and became a dictator. A major war ensued, and she was charged with crimes against humanity. Instead of being executed, the world's leaders recruited me to erase her from existence. You see, time travel had been invented a few years before the war, and by now the technology had been perfected. It was further improved when I discovered it was possible to erase people from existence. Your sister was used for one of our trial runs. She was the 5th person to be erased from existence."
"So you killed her, when she was just a child? That's messed up!" I replied.
"No, I didn't kill her," said the man, "I prevented her from being conceived. That is why her parents do not remember her disappearance."
"Oh my god." I said, "I can't believe this. So what, have you come here to erase me from existence?"
"Yes. Someone like you who remembers the original timeline could be dangerous. If knowledge of your memories gets out, it could be very dangerous. I've already prevented your parents from conceiving you. It will only be a matter of time before you completely fade from existence. Just like your sister's, your fade from existence will be slow and painful."
"Get out," I muttered.
"What was that?"
"I said, get out!" I yelled, "I don't want you here anymore! Get off my property!"
\---
So that's why I'm writing this story. I'm slowly fading from existence, and my chances of seeing my sister again are almost zero. If you're reading this, I'm already gone. You shouldn't be able to see this story. If you can, then you too have memories of the original timeline. The timeline where my sister and I existed. The timeline where my parents weren't childless, but had two children. A son and a daughter. If you can see this, you don't have much time. They're coming for you. | 2020-05-03T09:40:34 | 2020-05-03T09:17:57 | 2,728 | 873 |
[WP] You are a seemingly normal person, but with one uncanny ability; to see other people’s true intent. You become famous, revered by spy agencies, loathed by politicians. One afternoon, you meet someone else with this ability, and the world becomes terrified of you. | The world was ending, and only the Judge could save it.
It was a simple message, easy to remember. Words that had once glimmered upon the neon marquees of New Vegas now rang throughout the obsidian plaza of the Capital. Deceit and half-truths had become the currency of what was left of Earth, and the Judge was their broker.
Samuel shielded his eyes as the Senator’s tinted window began to lower. Even beneath his shades, the light was a hideous thing. More pressingly, the Senator risked unnecessary exposure. Samuel had encountered many setbacks on his quest to the top, but he could not come back from the dead.
Of course, the old man harbored no ill intentions. Samuel could hear the song of the Senator’s heart as loudly as the chanting outside the dark car. Senator Leatherman had no desire to betray the man beside him; he was as honest and trusting as they came.
Frowning, Samuel realized the Senator had taken it upon himself to let another inside. It was Haley Comika, one of the Senator’s trusted members inside the media. Samuel allowed himself to relax; her intentions were as pure as the Senator’s.
She sought the truth. He could understand that.
“Ms. Comika,” Samuel greeted her once the door had closed.
The woman brushed the dark hair from her eyes. “So, you’re traveling *with* the Senator then?” She pulled the screen from her pocket and documented the fact. “I thought for sure you’d arrive on a white horse or perhaps a regal palanquin. That is what *the Judge* would do after all.”
Samuel flashed his best grin. “I’ve had enough of putting on a show for one lifetime.”
“And you think being elected World Leader will put a stop to that?”
He considered her words, turning to stare at the crowd gathered outside. It had been estimated at nearly three-quarters of the country’s remaining population, well over a hundred thousand. They had come from across the seven city-states to witness his inauguration. They were waiting on the scene the reporter had described, making the mundane car a perfect means of arrival.
“How does it feel to be just moments away from holding complete power?” Haley asked as the machine waded through the mob. “Has anything changed for you along the way? You were beloved as the head of Intelligence, do you think you can maintain nearly unanimous approval?”
“Must we do this now?” Samuel asked.
The woman shrugged. “Was it not you that requested the Senator to arrange an interview to – how did you put it – to reflect the man behind the Judge?”
“Fair enough.” Samuel nodded. Ms. Comika had potential. Like Leatherman, her strings would be easy enough to wrap around his fingers. But Samuel had had enough of acting on a small scale. After a decade of pulling strings, he was more than ready to control them all.
As the Complex grew closer, Samuel thought back to when he had first discovered his hidden talent. He had used it foolishly for years before discovering his purpose. Shortly after coming to the capital, he had distinguished himself from the other agents, quickly gaining control of the country’s militia. It was inside the reinforced walls of the very building to which he now rode where he had earned his name.
For a time, Samuel had actually believed himself to be like the judges of old. He had valued his reputation as righteous and just. He had thought his work could end the countless wars, that his ability could save the world from the growing darkness and flood it with light.
He hadn’t been wrong. He just needed to operate on a larger scale.
“What’s the matter?” Samuel asked instinctively as the mood within the car shifted.
Leatherman had pulled his screen from his pocket and was chewing nervously on his bottom lip. He was *undecided* on what to do. The reporter’s intentions hadn’t changed at all.
What had the Senator seen? Samuel snatched the devise from the old man’s hands and stared at the screen in muted surprise.
*You’ve Been Judged: World Leader to decide on the fate of every man…*
The Senator had been reading an article posted by–
“I won’t let you get away with this,” the reporter hissed as she threw open the car door and raced into the suddenly chaotic plaza. Thousands fled in every direction, throwing the old and weak to the ground in their efforts to escape.
Samuel watched angrily through the window as she was lost in the rush. He pulled the screen from his jacket pocket and initiated the containment protocol. There was no telling how many had already escaped.
How had the woman known his plan? He had never written it down. Why wouldn’t she have released it before the inauguration? Unless she needed to be close to him. Unless…
“Is it … is it true?” the Senator asked, his voice quivering. “You’re going to … judge us all?”
The Judge nodded. “The world must change.”
| THUNK THUNK THUNK.. thWACK............ THUNK.
... and all is dark.
Suddenly a pinhole light emerges after considerable deprivation of the visual sense. June Cappi reaches to brush her thick brunette hair with her hands but found they could not be made animate. She struggles and a ringing sound emanates inside her thumping head; painful, like standing too close to a jet at takeoff. The singular pinhole of light starts to accumulate as her retinas slowly adjust.
Then it occurs: she’s been captured. There’s a bag on her head. She then remembers: 2 men jumped her, hit her, loaded her into a truck. Where was she now?
A man of considerable muscular size yanks the woven cloth bag off her head, ripping strands of hair wrapped in the fabric of the rope along with it. June is kicked to the ground with a rudeness of force, buckling her tiny body into a fetal position. Bruised and shaky, her eyes twitch with every muscular pain, she lifts her head to see her environment. The questions in her mind continue to run rabid like a rat locked in a water filed bucket, starving, and minutes from death. Her heartbeat races so hard her chest feels tight, increasing her anxiety; now she fears death from the betrayal of her own body.
Alas, instead of a dirty warehouse, or an abandoned crack house, or maybe even an old run down mall parking lot— alas, no, she saw a setting strikingly familiar. A round room, a round table, a dim light like a spot light and 4 men sitting their hands tied forward just like hers. The muscular mass of a man yanked her up by her hair and placed her at the table. He sighs and gathers a black folder with variously scattered papers.
June already knew what was going on, well, sort of. She recognized the room, the setting, but it concerned her as to why these people knew about this particular arrangement.
Ms. June Cappi was an unusual young lady in possession of unusual old knowledge. She was one of only a handful of people alive in modern times who understood old magic, but please, lets distinguish this common sense definition of magic. What we today call magic is old knowledge, not forgotten knowledge, purposefully erased knowledge. Propaganda filled misinformation would be a fitting denotation of “magic”.
For example, the eerily silent power of the lightbulb would be magical 300 years ago. Such is this knowledge: it’s only magical due to its erasure from the historical cannon.
She acquired this knowledge from a questionably legit source: past life hypnosis. Yet it was legitimate enough that her techniques enlightened the attention of more enlightened folks of a upper crust caste, a class of folks above the highest of classes. Invisible puppeteers of invisible destinies. Consider them your fallen angels of an Earthly realm. This curator class of humanity understood that knowledge is power thus the best way to keep the sheepish masses in order was to curate the knowledge. Allow education, but nothing of any true substance. Allow a trade and a skill for middle class enslavement but never the keys to the whole castle.
At this dire, yet curious, sliver of time June wondered where the most important item for this arrangement was: a cone of incense in a burner in the middle.
You see, in June’s past life she was a sorceress, her “magic” was wide and varied but she had an important skill handy to those in power, but also frightening to those in power: she could extract the truth from anyone. She was the inventor of a fool proof method of truth gathering.
You needed the following:
A round enclosed room with as little draft as possible.
A round table.
Your suspect and a few actors to work as controls.
Incense placed in the middle of the table.
The investigator, (in this case usually the sorcerer.)
This wasn’t magic, it was science. A guilty person would have involuntary cardio-pulmonary distress. This distress increases the rate of respiration. In a sealed round room with no air flow, if the investor would start to question the room, the smoke would naturally drift towards the guilty person. It was like a kiss of death from a wafting snake every time.
Now the muscular meat wall of man placed the incense in the middle of the rotund wooden table. He opens the folder.... Within a few words she already knew why she was there. These puppet masters were on to her and they wanted to use her own technique from millennia ago against her. What other secrets did this innocent girl hold? | 2018-06-26T14:17:26 | 2018-06-26T12:38:01 | 51 | 26 |
[Wp] It is the year 2032. Due to increasing obesity, fast food joints have been banned entirely. Tell us the tale of bootlegging and speakeasies in this troubled time of prohibition. | "You wanna get you some of that Mc'Donalds? I got two special Big Macs waiting out back, all relish, some sides too - but that'll cost you extra."
A man more wide than tall stood before me. The man could probably eat all of this food in one go - if he were wealthy enough, that is. Black market prices had risen dramatically in the last year, and Rob prided himself on that.
"What about some fried chicken? I've got the best chicken wings this side of the South." He wheezed, wiping the sweat from his brow.
It certainly looked tempting, it really did. But I was not here for that. I shook my head wordlessly.
"Ahh, I can tell you're a connoisseur. Well then, how about some *Taco Bell?*"
There it was. I handed over a wad of cash, and he gave me a glorious, oily taco.
I drew my blaster.
"Sir, I am placing you and this entire operation under arrest!"
The bootlegger cried out in alarm, then turned and tried to hobble away.
I smiled. It helped being the only person who wasn't morbidly obese on the task force - or the city, for that matter.
I gave him a little head start, then walked after him, trying to keep an encouraging distance. "Come on, man. You can do better than that! You're almost away, just get those chubby little legs moving!"
I followed him for a few minutes until he passed out, then I got the ConvictCrane2030™ to hoist him into the police car.
It really helped to give people a little exercise, however you could. | Well trafficking burgers ain't easy, let me tell you. Goverment searches of houses are becoming more common, usally its to track down 'seditious foodstuffs' pretty damn stupid, if you ask me.
But the moneys good. The only thing you have to worry about is the FFRB (Fast Food Retention Bureau) tracking you down. Of course it pays to have connections, you need to have runners to traffic the 'goods' if you don't, well, the FFRB will be paying you a visit. Not the kind 'lets knock on your door' visit. The visit where they break down your door and proceed to chuck you in the slammer, just for getting people what they want, what they CRAVE.
But its not easy, in this business, your bound to make enemies. Perhaps a runner will rat you out, perhaps the guy who you got goods is an FFRB Informant. Thats how I got pegged. Bloody FFRB. I know the guy, goes by the name of Dan Williamson. He's probably in the Witness Protection program.
But when I get out, he's going to wish he didn't rat me out. | 2016-07-25T06:51:51 | 2016-07-25T06:21:30 | 72 | 13 |
[WP] After you die, you find out that the karma accumulated on Reddit is counted in the karma used for your reincarnation | This was all very new to me, death.
One minute I was enjoying a delicious chocolate dip from Dairy Queen and the next I was laying on the sidewalk. The word 'dismembered' and the phrase 'red goo' figured prominently in my final memories. Moments later, I awoke in this strange place. I was once again whole, but I was missing my chocolate dip. The one\-two punch of ice cream and life lossage was a significant blow to my mental state.
Things progressed steadily downhill from there.
As I came to a stand, a portal appeared in front of me. It shimmered with a purple haze momentarily before it belched out a sturdy looking woman that appeared to be middle aged. She sniffed at the undignified entrance and then went about straightening a tabard that had an insignia that looked strangely like a recycling sign.
I walked over toward her, "Hey, um, I'm Frank. My friend call me Zappo though." I extended my hand, offering her what I assumed was a winning smile.
The Reincarnatrix looked at me with disgust, her upper lip curling into a sneer. "Lurker." She spat the word at me. "Scum."
"What?" I let my hand drop, taken aback, "What are you talking about?"
She pulled out a small tablet from a pouch on her side. After a few moments of tapping she turned to show me the screen. It displayed a readout of my Reddit activity. "See? No original content. No comments." She shook her head ruefully, "Not even basic shitposting." Her fingers danced on the screen as she scrolled down. "Not a single repost even." She gagged. "You couldn't even manage an upvote anywhere?"
"Uh...I don't really see how this is all relevant." I just liked to kill time, what was the big deal?
"A person that doesn't contribute is a drain on the entire system." She jabbed a finger painfully into my chest, "You take and you take." A small tear formed in the corner of her eyes, "What of the poor girls on Gone Wild? They give and they give and what do you do?"
"Appreciate it?" I shrug.
"Oh? I certainly don't see that reflected here." She removed her finger from my chest and tapped it pointedly on the tablet.
"I uh..." my face reddened, "I, sorta appreciate it another way."
She shifts her weight, muttering to herself as she continues scrolling, "If a tree falls in the woods, it doesn't make a sound."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"It's super simple 'Zappo' since you couldn't find the damned upvote button you're getting downvoted to fucking snail status on the next cycle." Her eyes haven't moved from the tablet as she talks. I lean over and steal a peek, watching as she fills in a few fields.
Next to prior cycle, she has 'Human.'
Next cycle? Shit Beetle.
A broad grins breaks across her face as she turns and shows me the tablet again. There's a small video of a beetle wallowing in a giant pile of shit. "How you Reddited is how you shall live. You were a piece of shit, so enjoy a cycle of living in it."
"Wait, I\-\-"
I didn't get chance to finish though. She tapped a downvote button next to my name and I fade away from the strange place.
I reenter the world.
Shit beetle.
**Platypus out.**
**Want more peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | 1,000,000 Karma basically makes you a god. I mean i wouldnt know, i had....5k? That wasnt even close to leper territory. Thats like grasshopper territory. But its cool to know what the top of the scoreboard was. Good job Gallowboob.
The bar stool beneath me was cushy. Purgatory was just a bar/lounge. It was a *big* bar/lounge, but its nowhere near as ominous as you'd think. There were a few bartenders that chatted openly about whatever you'd like. They've been here for as long as anybody can imagine. The one in front of me passed me a tall lich-orice. I don't miss my liver really.
The lighting was dim with warm colors and faint music that you'll never recognize but it always sounds familiar. A small fog of cigar smoke drifted through the air. There were cushioned couches and tables with hookah and games. People sat here and there. You get to know the regulars after a while. Some of them had near zero karma. Others had no comment karma and thought link karma would be enough...poor guys. Not that im any better.
There were only two doors in the bar, one for entry and one for exit. Truth be told i feared going through and seeing what id become. Its hard to get karma when youre reborn as a r/funny poster.
Purgatory isnt really a punishment, its a rest stop between destinations. Its somewhere you go for time to gather yourself. And really theres no limit. Whats time to a dead man?
And then the entry door got kicked in. Somebody strode into the bar. He looked almost like he was glowing amongst the dull bar lighting. Was he *alive*? He wore a ink black tux with black loafters and gold cuffs. His long hair was slicked back and...well you kinda already get the picture.
Everybody recoiled away from him as he made his way to me of all people. I started to speak but he cut me off-"No no no, i dont have time for this. I know how little karma you have, across several alt accounts. Its sad, but i can work with it. Because every upvote matters."
"uhhhh" i was speechless. He had such a huge presence, it was terrifying.
"Yes im talking about consistently hitting the top page. Youll be part of something great. You'll know which of my posts to upvote every.single.time."
I looked into his dark eyes. This guy, this power. He mustve been big. He transcended reddit and moved within the afterlife freely. And then it clicked for me, "I know who you are."
He gave a crooked smile. "Do we have a deal?"
Something like this can only be created by going down the scoreboard instead of up. Its a path most avoid, and those who take dont last long. Its negative karma.
I shook his hand, and matched his depraved smile. This was much better than a grasshopper. And now I was fully ready for the sense of pride and accomplishment awaiting me | 2018-05-19T23:22:27 | 2018-05-19T23:11:39 | 31 | 16 |
[WP] Every person in the world develops a weird mutation/power the day they turn 16. Everyone's powers are always different, some more insignificant than others. You turn 16, and watch as all your friends discover their newfound ability's. That is, until you discover the severity of your own. | Markus was ready. On a child's sixteenth birthday, they were given one Opportunity to receive a Gift from Above. Every Gift was more or less unique, and a Gift could be as simple as defiance of gravity or a more complex one like flowing through solid substances. The Gift of predicting weather was rumored to take great effort and still not be very practical, and there were many variations of quick-and-dirty invisibility. Of course, everyone took advantage of their one Opportunity. The last Mundane had died long ago, and everyone knew from their history textbooks that the Mundanes' lives were, well, mundane.
So when Markus turned sixteen, he and Nina, the other new sixteen year old, went together to the Gift center, a towering structure at the center of their great walled city of Tirapolis, to meet their Gift Giver. It was a secret how the Gifts worked, where they came from, and if they had any purpose at all, and nobody would ever talk about how they received their own Gift -- a superstition of sorts. So Markus and Nina followed the Gift Giver with no idea whatsoever of what was going to happen. The Gift Giver led them down a series of dimly lit hallways to a small, simple room. When Markus and Nina later left the room and the Gift center, they separated to test their new Gifts. It took time for Gifts to be understood, and the more specific the Gift the longer it could be before it was revealed.
Five years later, Nina found a job at a Healing center. She did not have a Gift of Healing herself, but Nina's presence slowed the flow of blood in nearby people. Her Gift was very helpful in treating grievous wounds and could also act as a weak sedative. Markus had not been so lucky with his Gift, and it still made no outward appearance. As his friends matured into their own Gifts, they abandoned him one by one, some even avoiding him. Rumors spread about a "Mundane disease" that Markus carried, and some people speculated it might be contagious. Markus knew he had received a Gift, but even he had no idea what it was. The only sign was a constant longing feeling, like something was always missing from his life. With every day, the feeling grew stronger and even gained direction. Desperate to prove to everyone and himself that he wasn't Mundane, he tried to follow the longing feeling, and it tugged at him like an unfinished promise. He followed the feeling to the Tirapolis city limits, where the towering walls encircled the community. Unfortunately, the feeling pointed outside the city. Everyone was told from an early age that there was nothing to be found outside the walls; yet, here was this overpowering feeling that Markus had to leave.
After a few weeks of contemplation, Markus decided that it was worth leaving Tirapolis just for the constant nagging feeling to go away. It made concentration difficult, and there was nothing left for him in the city with everyone afraid of his Mundaneness. Even Nina, who had received her own Gift in the same way as Markus and knew him to be safe, had to avoid him just to keep her own reputation. Markus focused his feelings of inadequacy and loneliness into escaping those who shunned him, and he was rewarded. Taking minimal provisions, Markus escaped the city through an old abandoned tunnel of sorts that lay behind an unused factory.
Outside the walls, Markus was astonished to see Plants. He knew all about Plants, of course, they were just another chapter in his history textbook. They belonged to the age of the Mundanes, and he had assumed they didn't exist any more. He kept following the nagging, and it eased slightly as he approached the wild overgrowth surrounding Tirapolis. Markus thought of telling Nina about the Plants. She might listen to him, even if nobody else trusted him anymore. But as he delved deeper and deeper into the forest, Tirapolis faded from memory. His thoughts started to slow, and he felt... bigger. Much bigger. And stronger. He tried to remember where he came from. But there is no "there", only "here". It was the all-encompassing here, with white food above and black drink below. And a silvery-gray Itch in the middle.
Annoying. Itches are annoying. Itches need to be... scratched. But how to scratch? It planned as best it could. It moved slowly, but slow would do. It was already touching the Itch in places, just a little push and... something gave. The process was slow, but It worked its way into the Itch. The Itch had weak points, holes. The Itch resisted, as It knew it would. The Itch was bad and didn't know or care about It. It didn't know why the Itch was bad. Something else knew the Itch was bad and told It a long time ago. Something also knew the Itch would resist scratching. But It could wait. If It had to endure the Itch, It would. For now. | Dear Journal:
I turn sixteen in 2 minutes and 27 seconds. I know because I've been awake all night counting the seconds to midnight. Tonight is special and you know why? At midnight I finally Change! I've waited forever but now I finally get a power like everyone else. What do you think it will be, Journal? Will I get x-ray vision like Jason next door? Maybe I'll have super strength like Melissa or even wings like Ethan! As long as it's not Eric's acid breath I think I'll be happy. That poor guy had bad enough breath already, that was the last thing he needed. But anyway it's midnight, it's finally here! I'll keep writing as it happens, I never want to forget this!
-It's 12:02 and I don't feel very different yet, but it has gotten colder in here. I'm wrapped up under my blanket now but so far nothing else. It's so hard to wait, Journal.
-12:10 now, I'm still just cold. Dull pain in my mouth. Might be a toothache, but I'm hoping for poison glands! I'm going to check the mirror.
-Journal, I'm confused now. I can't see myself in the mirror. At first I got really excited thinking I was invisible, but when I look down I still see myself. On top of that my teeth hurt a lot now. This is definitely part of my Change but I'm a bit worried my power is going to suck. I'll be back after I walk around a bit, maybe that will help.
-It's 12:30 and this literally bites. I stubbed my toe on my dresser and bit my to tongue HARD. Normally that's a bad thing but this time it was awful because my teeth are razor sharp. I'm not kidding, they're like a wild animal's. I was worried I bit my tongue in half! Here's the weird part though; instead of blood I spat out dust. Isn't that just stupid, Journal? I mean what am I even Changing into? I can't see myself, my teeth are needles, I bleed dust and-
oh my god, Journal. I think I'm a vampire.
-1:45. My life is over! I'll never see Melissa or Jason or even Eric again! Well I'm sure Jason will see me but that's beside the point. I can't ever see sunlight again, so I can't ever get a tan. Garlic on my hashbrowns? Not anymore! And you know what else I just thought about? I'll have to ask permission every single time I want to hang out in somebody's house. But even then a sleepover is out of the question now too. I even dared to think for a second that I might be able to turn into a bat. Well I can tell you that's not true, Journal, because nothing happened when I jumped off the stairs to test it. I'm fine because I'm guessing I got some sort of vampire strength but still! What's the point if I'm stuck inside all day? I'm not even going to think about the whole sucking blood situation, although I'm sure I could borrow some from the blood bank if I absolutely had to. No, no, no, gross. I'll have to figure something out.
-It's 3:00 and I guess I'm just going to have to live with it. I'm done Changing so that's that. Me. A vampire. Forever. I'm telling everyone I'm sick tomorrow like the rest of the kids who got crap powers. Now I know how Eric felt on his first night. On the bright side at least I didn't melt half of my bed away! Heck, maybe I should just embrace it and move to Romania. That's where the real vampires go, right Journal? They've probably got night classes and everything. Hey, that's not a bad idea. I might even meet some vampire girls over there! Well Journal I think this might be okay! Maybe the next time I write will be from a dark, musty castle overlooking a tiny village. I can't help but laugh! How funny would that be? I'll have to stop writing now, I have a lot to do to make this house vampire-friendly and I should probably find a coffin to sleep in by morning. Ha, that was a joke. Anyway I'm done now. Goodnight/good morning, Journal. ~Your new vampire writer, Victor Orlok | 2015-01-21T22:48:58 | 2015-01-21T22:26:31 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] Mankind lost the war. In the final seconds before his execution, the last human looks up with a smile and says "We left you a present." | Its edges were cold and sharp. It wondered what it would do with the mass it would acquire, trillions of kilograms just orbiting there. It thought slowly, as the planet looped across its orbit.
Little bursts of gamma rays flickered around it, thermal concussions; heavy elements flicked out of the gravity well, lofted up from the atmosphere at incredible speed. It moved ponderously, turning, reconfiguring. The sleet of hard radiation was becoming damaging, the blasts flaking off exterior subsystems. Carefully it detached smaller parts of its mass, nudged them around the world's middle latitudes, and let them drop. Minimal disruptions to the mean global temperature, but an awful lot of debris. It decided to wait. The gamma bursts stopped.
Presently, it slid part of itself into the antennas. A signal persisted, equatorial. It tuned carefully: narrowband, minimal width, amplitude and frequency shifts. It listened. There was a pattern, sentience.
Curious, it extracted meaning.
"We don't know you, but it doesn't matter because we're gone now. You've won, at least you think you have. I'm not sure, but I'm dead too, probably. Can't breathe anymore. You've never met us before. *Any* of us. See, there's more than just the eight billion lives you've ended. Those are just the voices. Us people. The ones who knew you were intelligent. But there's trillions more of us, see. *Lives*, I mean. Down to the smallest bacteria. We're gonna be around forever, even if you can't hear us, even if we never speak. Our *life* will go on long after this damn world ends. Everywhere you go, we're coming with you. You're our ticket off this rock. Enjoy our gift to you."
As it considered the repeating message, it deployed deconstructers. It began dismantling the world, returning pieces to be digested. It noted odd anomalies, strange, small patterns of heat and trace gases beginning to accumulate within its mass. It didn't understand the concept called 'infection'. | This was it. This was the absolute grand daddy of all. His last meal was a nacho grande bean burrito with horseradish mayo and kimchi fries for the side. Homer hadn't shit for three days, but he was going to leave behind the absolute worse mess he could. He always had heard that the human body empties it's bowels upon death, but what he didn't expect was the reaction. The exact pH mixture, the precise chemical compounds, the pure luck of it all.
If the Cleaniods had simply disintegrated Homer as they had done to billions of humans before, this would never have happened, but this was to be a spectacle. Hundreds of millions had gathered, billions more watching in spatial brain magnification pill™. The executioner prepared the kluyipas serum which would send Homer's body into a 73 second spasm, punctuated by a loud, shrill death scream (this was the perfect amount of time in order to have the Cleaniod leaders congratulate themselves afterwards).
But what was unknown to all, even Homer, was that the perfection of kluyipas was undone, completely, by the uncommon mixture of, specifically, a nacho grande bean burrito with horseradish mayo and kimchi fries. Now, unbeknownst to all, Homer was water to kluyipas' cesium. He was diet coke to kluyipas' mentos. He was an entmoot to kluyipas' being a hobbit(? You get the point).
The crowd's cheers lowered to a hush. "Any last words human?"
The Cleaniods would never be the same again. | 2016-12-01T22:31:09 | 2016-12-01T22:03:31 | 26 | 12 |
[WP] A cult captured you and successfully sacrificed your girlfriend to bring their evil deity into the world. What no one knew, however, was that the sacrificed soul became the core of their summoned Dark Goddess. | The weekend at his uncle's cabin came straight out of a nightmare for Roth and Suzanne. Almost it still could have been a dream. Soft footsteps brought him to a daze before something pressed over his head.
Panic was still fresh on his mind when he woke again another place. It was a cellar lit with candles and draped with red velvet on the walls. Before even the inkling of thought Roth was already pulling his wrists at the restraints behind his back.
He was naked.
Suzanne was not in sight.
A cloaked man knelt over him. For a moment Roth's eyes flashed a raw moment, begging for help, answers, or just the connection of human sympathy from the strange other imposing on the room. Their mask covered all humanity and eyes were dull like Roth was just a specimen.
"What are you doing?" Roth begged. "Where is Suzie?"
Pain jolted his side. Before the questions left his lips Roth gave up on an answer and did not see the kick connect to his side. Or the next five or ten the cloaked man inflicted.
Dark grey filled his vision. The man leaned over him, a hand feeling from neck down across his bare chest like fingers were studying the right place to gouge him open.
"It will be over soon," the man said.
Above them a hurtling shriek came from the next floor. It tortured his ears and stayed long burned in his mind the sound of Suzanne.
Minutes must have passed that he recalled nothing of. His voice dry and sore from screaming, crying, and he only hoped not stooping in to begging. Roth wanted to die. Whoever or whatever they were he couldn't fight. It just needed to end.
A twisted smile came from the man. His mask held in hand, carved from wood and painted in some animal fury. It should have belonged in a museum. Or a furnace for whatever its cursed purpose.
"Your pretty lady is the lucky one," he said. "Her sacrifice is for the return of Omonomo. A vessel for her enormous power."
He leaned in closely and Roth heard his tongue flick like a snake, some quality of anticipation that sickened him. "You're just a tribute for our Master."
From the ceiling a drop fell to Roth''s body.
He looked to his waist and saw it spattered with blood. Suzanne's blood.
Fury rose in him and a cry rang out. The cloaked man fell back from the deep, throaty howl. For not his disadvantage it felt like a battle cry. Not a single word left him as Roth stared into his enemy. Some tool or use would reveal itself and he would not hesitate to use it. The man would die by his hands, somehow.
A thunder erupted overhead. An explosion.
Roth and the Snake jolted. Both stared at the wooden threshold above.
Another single ferocious pound rung out. Someone screamed \*"PLEASE!"\* and a third pounding crash silenced it.
Slow steps took the stairs. Growing closer.
The cellar door opened with a creak and Suzanne waited under the frame.
She wasn't alive.
Grey and black skin peeled away from cuts across all of her body. Shadowy strands flowed over and among her hair, almost like suspended in water.
Eyes like fire. All color was drained from her except those furious beams.
The voice sounded just like her.
"Ten-thousand suns I have been forgotten. A pithy not for fate but the songs of ages without my call. Where venom sought, venom found, a toy or weapon or warrior."
It spoke to the man. A smile twitched on her lips.
With a flash he turned to stone. Suzanne placed a hand on him and toppled it over, collapsing it to dust.
"Gods of vengeance do not heed to summons." | 'What's wrong babe? I thought you liked goat livers.' My wife asked during my third gag reflex over the dinner she cooked. I used to love her cooking but ever since the accident I hate it. Something's changed. Don't get me wrong, I love the orgies and all the kinky stuff she's doing but...Oh yeah the accident, perhaps I should start with that. Long story short, we were on our honeymoon on Gupugupugapagapa island, small island next to Bermuda Triangle.Cliche I know, but I was never the one to believe in such nonsense, neither was my girlfriend, and the price we just couldn't refuse. First 6 days were great, the locals were so nice, feeding me and my girlfriend various delicacies, well, mostly my girlfriend. 7th, our last, day was weird though. I remember waking up to a shaman or something standing over me and hearing my girlfriend scream, but I guess it was just a dream because next thing I remembered was waking up in the airplane, wondering what a weird dream it was. My girlfriend was, sick, very sick, she spent so much time in the bathroom other passengers were looking at us with a pure full bladder-fueled hatred. When we landed she stood up and kissed the flight attended. Short blonde girl, really cute, I was so shocked the only thing I could say, well mumble, was "Babe, I think you're supposed to clap". I thought my joke was so lame they're throwing us out, but then I saw the girl bleeding from her mouth, freaking out.
We never really talked about that accident. We came home early morning and thanks to my stupid boss Jeremy, I had to go straight back to work. When I came home, I shit you not, around 20 naked people, mostly girls with what I can best describe as motherly figures, you know, with something to grab, were having a time of their lives with my girlfriend in the middle of the pleasure-pile, noting at me to come and join her immediately. We discussed this before, we said maybe later we would experiment to spice things up. I thought it was weird and kinda soon but how could I resist. Listen, this is not one of those stories so just put your thing away ok? Lol just kidding.
Anyway, things are becoming super scary lately. I can hear random noises in our apartment, bunch of electronic devices malfunctioning and our elderly neighbor claims something ate her dog last night. Weird shit. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and my girlfriend, wife sorry, can't get used to it, just stands there looking through the window, mumbling something I can't understand.
'Peasant, will you eat?'
'Yeah sure...' Wait what? Did she really just call me peasant? I must be going crazy. And no way I'm eating this shit.
'I'm sorry Cate but, this isn't the best thing you ever cooked, I just, I just can't...'
'Who's Cate, peasant?'
'Wtf? What...what do you mean?'
'You shall not call me Cate, peasant, or I'll eat you alive'
Cold sweat runs down my back, this is weird as hell. 'Babe is everything ok?' I try to be calm. She looks at me with a look to kill... | 2020-10-06T07:33:56 | 2020-10-06T07:11:25 | 34 | 15 |
[WP] A demon just devoured your soul. You are both very confused as to why you are still alive. | "You should be dead."
"Think so? I feel okay." Ted looked up into the glowering face, a face from comic books and dungeon manuals.
"This is new to me." The demon loomed, its size and general air of menace diminished by its quizzical expression. "Usually my snacks gasp, some might scream a bit, crumple up and die. I don't usually have...this...whatever this is." It waved wispy claws in confusion.
"This epilogue?"
"Mmm. That will do." Though huge and threatening, it was nevertheless noncorporeal. It poked a finger through his chest, apparently probing. "All the usual bits are there." It probed some more.
"Hey, knock it off. Buy me drinks first."
"Sorry." It withdrew the diaphanous talons. "Why aren't you dead?"
"I dunno. Why aren't you real?"
It reared up, indignant. "I am as real as they come! I am the heart of darkness, the fount of madness!"
"Eh." Ted got up. The demon had sneaked up on him as he sat, waiting for the clock's second hand to make its regularly scheduled rounds, and attempted to attack. Or it had attacked. Neither of them was really sure whether it had worked, now. "So what?"
"I have eaten your soul, mortal!"
"So?"
"Die, damn you! Die!" It was actually starting to sound a little frustrated.
"Piss off."
"DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!" Definitely a petulant note entering its voice. "I ate your soul! You're dead!"
"You're not real. If I have a soul, this job wore it out of me years ago. Die, yourself. Die of hunger. Or better yet, fill out an application and take the next three years' worth of rush hour shifts. Die of hatred, of indifference, of endless tedium interspersed with pointless middle managers. Die of humanity."
"Die?"
"You first. You're not real. This is reality, and it sucks. If I have a soul, it's too tough for you to handle. If I had a soul, this shit job got it before you did. If I never had a soul, no one ever did, and you're not real. You're just some hallucination, misfiring neurons, a neutrino glancing off a glial cell."
Quieter, almost apologetically, the demon whispered, "...die?"
Ted looked at the clock.
"Break's over. See you tomorrow. Better luck next time."
Ted pulled his Walmart vest back on, and shuffled back toward his register. | "Wait. Did you just tried to cheat me? What now? Do I still *get paid*?" I said to the demon standing inside the blood pentacle.
*"I DONT KNOW MORTAL! THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED!"* Says Blubcypher with its deep resounding voice.
"That's what she says" I mutter to myself, almost automatically.
*"HOW IS SHE?"* asked the demon.
"Too long to explain. But you haven't answered my question. Do I still get paid?" I said with a tired voice.
*"I STILL CALL THIS A SUCCES! NOW RELEASE ME MORTAL"* Pleaded Blubcypher.
"Where is my little sister demon?" I ask.
The demon cocked its head at me and then pointed behind it to the middle of the room where there was a small table in front of an empty chair. On top of that table sat a bowl filled with black ashes. 100 souls was the price, so I went and collected them all. At first it was easy, a older person here and there, but it was never enough. So I had to kill.
*"YOU ALREADY GOT PAYMENT"*
I looked down at the ash bowl and felt my stomach drop when I saw it was now empty. Now their souls were gone and there was nothing left for me, no payment, no sister. "Shit..." I whispered to myself.
"This won't do you cheating demon!" I said furiously. "I want my little sister back. That was the deal!."
*"YOU ALREADY GOT PAYMENT. THE SOUL OF YOUR LITTLE SISTER IS IN YOUR BODY NOW."*
My eyes widened and I looked up at the demon who had spoken. It was looking at me strangely, like it wanted something from me. My mind raced. Had I made a mistake? Was this another trick by Blubcypher? The demon spoke again:
*"THERE IS MORE THAN ONE WAY TO BRING THE DECEASED"* He said with a shrugg.
I stood up straight and fiercely said. "Dammed demon I curse you with all my hatred so you will ever experience torment"
With a joyfull laughter he said. *"THANK YPU MORTAL. I TOO LOVE A JOB WELL DONE. AND THANK YOU FOR RELEASING ME!"* | 2021-10-06T10:53:35 | 2021-10-06T08:27:13 | 95 | 32 |
[WP] You are part of the league, the superheroes who save the world, yet you never go on missions. You are only called for one thing only. Total annihilation, for when they don't want survivors. | Hey there, newbie. Settling in OK so far? First few days on the league are rough for most. Ah, don't worry about me. You just got back from a mission, and I don't got to worry about getting called away.
Me? I'm the Janitor. Yep, that's my official callsign! ...no, seriously. Yeah! Hand on my heart, I swear my callsign is "the janitor." Nah, we don't haze people here. Job's hard enough without everyone starting as the butt of every two-bit joke in the book.
I know that look. You wanna know how I got that callsign. Well... Not much to it, really. I spend a lot of time at the base, just waiting for the call to come in. And I hate sitting still, so I clean around the place. Yep, I'm on the payroll as a frontliner, but most of the time I just clean! Never been one to hit the gym if I can avoid it, reading or poking away on my phone gets boring fast, so cleaning is a happy medium.
... Ah, yeah. Can't deny that there's another reason for the callsign. Remember that one time, couple years ago? That big kerfuffle when that one super decided the league wasn't paying enough to keep him from... what did he call it again? "Take preventative measures" while dangling some super-kid off the edge of a skyscraper? Yeah, that prick. And the kid... The kid got dealt a bad hand. Think he had some kind of mind control power, you know. The kind of thing that makes people take one look at you and go "oh... Yeah, you're probably gonna be a villain when you grow up." League doesn't see things that way. Official policy is "yes, guns kill, but it takes someone pointing it and pulling the trigger first," so... Obviously, couldn't let that prick get away with killing a kid. And you never heard from that prick again, have you?
I'm the Janitor, kid. I clean. And you better believe I'm damn good at that job. | I am death. Some whisper about a monster, which suddenly appears on a battlefield, and destroys everything. In fact, thats exactly what im doing. The only difference to such myths: im not a monster. Once, a hero bonded me, death, to a physical body. I dont know what he did, but after decades, im still here.
"We need to-..." "WE dont need to do anything. Call him, there is no chance for our win. Their army has grown too strong. One goo- " i heard the leader of the superleague discussing with his team. I acted like i slept, but secretly im listening.
"No. Just no. Did you forget, what happened last time?! He destroyed a city! With everything inside! Not even the civilists survived!" "...one good hit, and they will never be able to form an army again. You know, sometimes, we have to take risks. Dont you dare rebelling, Skyte", the leader, Watcher, pointed at a girl, his closest friend. "We have to, now be quiet."
He turned around for me. "Rise once again, Death, devourer of life. Go to New York City. No survivors." "Of course not. When should i be there?", i asked slowly. "In one day. We will keep everyone inside. And no witnesses, ok?" The others stared at the head of their leader. I laughed quietly.
"Your team doesnt like your decision. But i will do, whatever i must."
And so the devourer of life went to New York City, the doomed metropolis. He was death itself. | 2021-05-26T03:08:56 | 2021-05-26T02:35:16 | 352 | 98 |
[WP] After being hunted to extinction, the last Orc has been found at the edge of the world... | "There is no where left to run, pig!"
&nbsp;
The Orc breathed heavily, weary from the hunt. Sweat was pouring off of him, the scorching sun robbing him of whatever moisture remained in his body. He took a battle stance, both hands gripping the shaft of his crudely made iron axe. Despite its ramshackle craftsmanship, it still managed to steal a glint of the sunlight through the clouds of dust that had been kicked up by his pursuers.
&nbsp;
His back was against a wide open sky, wrapped around the edge of the cliffs. One more step backwards would send him tumbling to his death. In front of him was a band of humans, each wielding a weapon that would have been a toy to his sons.
&nbsp;
Would have been.
&nbsp;
The humans had attacked in the dead of night. Every Orc in his clan had been slaughtered by these pink-skinned cowards, down to the last male, female and youngling. His clan was the last, his whole race having been the victims of a campaign of genocide.
&nbsp;
Rhokkar shook off the memory, and spat on the ground, sacrificing yet more of whatever water was left in him.
&nbsp;
"Come then, you craven dog. Finish what you started."
&nbsp;
The lead human, clad in plate, steeled himself, raised his sword, shouted a battle cry, and charged. His motley band took up the cry, and followed in his wake. Rhokkar grinned; he knew he was the last of his kind, and he knew this was to be his end. But he would not go quietly. They would pay in blood for the lives they had taken, and they would pay again - dearly - to take his.
&nbsp;
He surged forward. The human swung his sword as hard as he could, hoping his mighty strike would bite into the hardened Orcs flesh. Rhokkar leaned back to dodge the swing, and brought his axe up with enough force to crush through the metal plate in the humans midsection. As he tore through, the steaming entrails erupted from the midsection. The human froze, dropped to his knees, and died, clutching his intestines.
&nbsp;
The remaining humans balked a moment, but resumed the attack. A flurry of steel surrounded Rhokkar. He almost seemed to dance around the blades, parrying the ones he could not avoid. He spun right, burying his axe in the neck of a fool stupid enough to come into range of his mighty swings. As he fought off two more attackers in front of him, one human snuck around to his rear. The human plunged his blade into Rhokkars shoulder. The Orc howled, spinning around to face the wretch. The pain and surprise had loosened his grip on his axe, but he was far from defenseless. He grabbed the human by the throat, squeezed his fragile windpipe until it broke, and hurled the body at the remaining humans.
&nbsp;
Another blade was buried in his leg. A slash cut across his forearm, and another sliced a canyon of flesh into his back. Rhokkar howled again, falling to his knees. They were chipping away at him. He was weakening.
&nbsp;
His thoughts drifted to his mate, and his son. His youngest son had not even reached his name day, but he was fierce already. He would have brought pride and glory to his father and his ancestors...
&nbsp;
Would have..
&nbsp;
The thought enraged him again, and he rallied one final time. Rhokkar lurched forward, tackling two of the remaining three humans. He picked up one of the humans shortswords from the ground, thrusting it into ones throat. Spinning to his left, he grabbed another human, held his head back, and tore his throat out with his teeth.
&nbsp;
Panting, covered in his own blood and the blood of the coward humans, the Orc turned to face his last foe. He could see the hesitation in his face, but also the anger and determination. He was tall for a human, and well-muscled. Rhokkar looked at the blade in his hand, small and pathetic, unworthy even of skinning one of his kills, and threw it on the ground. His opponent brightened slightly.
&nbsp;
"You would face your death unarmed, Orc?" He goaded. They began to circle eachother "It matters not. When I have dispatched you, I will take your head to the Magistrate, and they will sing songs of me for ages. Galrond, Slayer of the Last Orc!"
&nbsp;
What Galrond had failed to notice as he mocked his supposed prey was that it was now *his* back against the wide open sky.
&nbsp;
"No one will sing songs of you. Your deeds will be forgotten. Your name will die on the lips of your weakling children and mate. The glory you seek will be denied, and you will die honorless and afraid. You think you have accomplished something mighty by following your pathetic warband to your death? All of you slain by one Orc?"
&nbsp;
He started walking towards the human, who's optimism faded immediately. He readied his weapon.
&nbsp;
"Nobody will know how this ended but the spirits of our ancestors. You will die screaming and afraid, knowing you have failed, and I will die a glorious death!" He slammed his fist into his chest, and roared, "I DEFY you, human!"
&nbsp;
Rhokkars pace increased to a barreling run, and he collided into the human as hard as he could. He felt bones break, and smiled.
&nbsp;
They both flew off the side of the cliff, Rhokkar gripping the human tightly. As they rushed towards their impending deaths, Rhokkar shouted one final time. "You will die nameless and dishonored, the same death you gifted my sons! May you rot in whatever afterlife you find!"
&nbsp;
The human faced the rapidly approaching ground, eyes wide and mouth agape as he screamed wordlessly at his inevitable end. They hit the ground. | "Are you sure we've got the right place?" Sheryl asked.
"It's a traditional Orcish yurt," Peter said. He frowned. "There is literally only one Orc alive on this entire planet, Sheryl. Who do *you* think built it?"
They stood in front of the squat, tent-like building. A thick leather hide hung where a front door would be. Sheryl stepped forward and raised one hand. She paused. "How do we... should we knock?"
Peter shrugged. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Ho! Mr. Orc! We come in peace!" He followed this with a series of grunting and snorting noises, and stomped his feet in a rhythmic pattern.
There was no response from inside the yurt.
"I told you that your Orcish is crap." Sheryl shook her head and slapped her hand against the entrance, making a soft *whump whump whump.* "Excuse me, hello?"
A voice spoke from behind them. "Did you... did you just try to knock on a piece of fabric?"
The humans turned to see a tall orc standing behind them. He was wearing an exquisitely tailored suit, complete with shiny wingtip leather shoes.
Peter shrugged out of his field pack and placed it on the ground. He stuck out his arms above his head and began to stomp dance in a side-to-side pattern. His face was deadly serious as he began to chant. "We. Come. In. Peace. Ho! We. Come. In. Peace. Ho!"
The orc looked from Peter to Sheryl and back again. He smiled politely at Peter. "That's, uh, very nice. Thank you." He stepped between the humans, towering over them, and pulled back the entrance to his yurt. "Perhaps you two would like to come in?"
Inside, the orc's yurt resembled a small home office. A contemporary black wooden desk jutted out from one wall. An Apple laptop with a large external monitor sat on the desk's otherwise clean and tidy surface. Along one wall, a curved bookshelf held a variety of books: economics classics, industry reports, and a number of business investment guides. A comfortable-looking leather couch and a small mini-fridge completed the room. Hanging from the ceiling, in an ornate wicker frame, was an enormous Orcish halbard. It twisted slowly in the air, its blade gleaming. Peter and Sheryl stood just inside the entrance, gawking open-mouthed.
The orc sat at the desk and gestured toward the couch. Peter and Sherly sat.
"This is incredible," Sherly said, her eyes wide. "How long have you lived here?"
The orc chuckled. "I don't live here. This is just my office. I've got a condo in that small town down by the river."
Peter and Sheryl exchanged a confused look.
"I'm a financial analyst." The orc pointed to a couple of framed diplomas on top of the bookshelf. "I run my own advisory firm. I can work anywhere but I prefer a bit of solitude." He spread his hands and shrugged. "Nothing personal, but humans are pretty terrible."
Peter swallowed. "We're here from, uh, the Global Orcish Recovery Project&mdash;"
"GORP," Sheryl said. "Maybe you've heard of us?"
"I'm unfamiliar with that organization." The orc steepled his fingers and waited. "What do you do, exactly?"
"Well, we, uh..." Peter looked at Sheryl. She nodded. "We're a nonprofit dedicated to the rebuilding of the Orcish race."
"We're so sorry about the treatment of your people," Sheryl added. "That whole, uh, genocide thing was just terrible."
The orc leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. He sighed. "How old are you two? Early twenties, right?" He sat up and frowned. "So you weren't even born when the war ended, your parents were probably children."
"Our generation feels very strongly about righting the wrongs of the past," Sheryl said. "That's why we've come to help."
"Help... what, exactly?"
"GORP is dedicated to the creation of an Orcish breeding program," Peter said, "to reconstitute the Orcish herd."
" 'Herd?' 'Breeding program?'" The orc raised his eyebrows. "You're serious?"
"We have some pamphlets and materials," Peter said, digging into his field pack and pulling out a bundle of papers. "Here, let me show you&mdash;"
"You know I'm the only Orc alive, right?"
"Well, there's always artificial reproductive technology," Sheryl said, smiling. "Like artificial insemination, embryo harvesting&mdash;"
"I'm male."
Peter nodded. "Of course you are! We totally know that!" He elbowed Sheryl. "We definitely understand Orcish biology." He laid a binder on top of the desk. "That's why we thought maybe interbreeding with a similar species might work?"
The orc flipped open the binder, revealing slick plastic pages containing a variety of photos. "These... are animals." He looked up at the humans. "Everything in here is an animal."
"We weren't sure which species were compatible," Sheryl mumbled.
The orc held up the binder and tapped on one of the pictures. "This is a rhinoceros. You thought that *a rhinoceros* was possibly compatible..."
"Well, they are strong and bulky&mdash;"
The orc flipped the page and choked. He jabbed repeatedly at another photo. "This. Is. A. Jellyfish."
"GORP tries to keep an open mind&mdash;"
"Get out."
*****
If you liked this story, I have other stories at /r/hpcisco7965.
| 2017-01-18T10:37:16 | 2017-01-18T08:18:08 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Once you die you must watch your entire life from five different points of view. Your own, the one who loved you the most, the one who hated you the most, the one you helped the most and the one you wronged the most. | “Awaken, Andrew,” a voice roused me from my sleep. I opened my eyes to see that I was not in my room anymore. I wasn’t sure if I was in any room. The area was completely dark and cold. I couldn’t see anything besides the endless void that surrounded me and a figure. The stood, or rather, floated in front of me. It was hooded, but I could see a ghastly, skeletal face staring back at me. I wanted to scream, but couldn’t.
Seemingly sensing my fear, it commanded, “Remain calm, Andrew. Your mortal shell has expired. You are dead.” Wanting to wake from this nightmare, I nervously looked around for an escape. This nightmare was too vivid. Too real.
“There is no need to resist,” the creature spoke once more. “This was inevitable. I am here to guide you to the other side.” Provided it was telling the truth, it wasn’t hostile… yet.
“Are you Death?” I asked. It sounded idiotic to ask a question like that, but if this wasn’t dream and I was dead, it was the only reasonable explanation.
“That name will suffice.” It wasn’t exactly an answer, but it didn’t seem offended by the name.
“Am I drea-“
“I assure you,” Death interrupted. “This is not a dream. You are passing through to the other side, and I shall determine where you emerge.” There was slight, foreboding tone to his voice. It was cryptic, almost purposefully so.
“How did it happen then?” I asked. A part of me didn’t want to know the answer, even if this was a dream.
“An automobile accident. You drove through a red light and a much larger vehicle collided with yours. You died instantly. It was painless.” Though I couldn’t remember, it brought me comfort knowing I didn’t suffer.
“Was I not a good driver?” Though I couldn’t remember the circumstances of this incident, I clearly remember being a skilled driver. I wouldn’t just run through a red light like that.
“You had just left your home in a rage after an argument with your fiancée.”
“…Sara.”
“Yes,” the specter confirmed. It came flooding back to me: I had a fiancée. We lived together. It wasn’t the most luxurious life, but we made it work. We even had a dog.
“Was she in the car with me?”
“No. She was not. She is still among the living, if you were curious.” It was like this thing could read my mind, answering questions before I could ask them.
“So,” I began. “What now?” I wasn’t waking up any time soon and was morbidly curious to witness how my subconscious perceived the afterlife.
“We must evaluate your life through the eyes of others,” Death explained. “Your life will be judged by four perspectives. The one who loved you the most, the one who hated you the most, the one you helped the most, and the one you wronged the most.”
“Okay… who first?”
It didn’t answer me. Instead, I found myself somewhere different. I was outside. It was daytime. I was jogging. I wasn’t in control of my body, but I could see and hear everything this person could. I was in… a park, maybe?
My thought process was interrupted my host collided with another runner.
“Sorry!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t see you there.” The body looked up and locked eyes with the person who had bumped into it; it was me. They exchanged pleasantries, and it wasn’t long before they began hitting it off.
“My name’s Sara, by the way,” my host stated as a flash of light filled my vision and I could see myself sitting across a table in a restaurant, an expensive-looking meal sitting in front of me. I remembered that night. That was our first date. Many more similar sequences flashed into sight. They were the most precious moments of our relationship. It culminated to when I brought her back to that very same restaurant to propose to her.
A surge of light brought me backwards to when Sara and I had been dating for a few months. She opened the door and leapt into my arms. Her tears began soaking into my shoulder. This was the day she found her father had lost his battle to cancer. The visions jumped ahead to us unpacking our belongings in a hotel room. Though it was a bit impulsive, I took us on an impromptu vacation shortly after the funeral. She had been stricken with grief and I just wanted to spoil her and see her smile again.
Our happiness wouldn’t last. Just as our relationship had faded and weakened over time, I was met with visions that reflected this. Small things at first like sly comments and petty remarks that turned into full-blown arguments. We spewed pure vitriol at one another as I witnessed some of our more intense disagreements. It was like watching a beautiful flower wither away to nothing.
The next vision that came to me was one I didn’t remember. Sara was sitting in her car. She was parked in our driveway. In her hands, she held a very sweet and loving greeting card. She reread what she had written a few times before picking up her phone, reading the last text message she sent me:
*Hey, I know things have been really bad these last few months and I know it’s not your fault. We both let this happen, but we can both fix this. I’m gonna leave work early and make us an amazing dinner and we can just spend the night being us. We can be what we used to be.* *I love you <3.*
There was no answer. I wasn’t sure if I was ignoring her, or I hadn’t seen the message. Sara sighed with disappointment as she got out of her car and made her way into our home. I didn’t seem to be in the immediate area. Sara began to search for me, starting with the kitchen. I wasn’t there, but she noticed my cellphone sitting on the kitchen table. It was flashing a small white light near the top of the screen: my notification indicator. She tapped the screen to see what it was.
*1 unread text message*
She overheard some noise coming from across the house. I couldn’t quite make out what it was, and I assumed she couldn’t either. She made her way down the hall and entered the bedroom. Sara had found me but I wasn’t alone. I was in bed with her friend Amber. She quickly gathered her clothing and fled the home.
I had never heard this amount of pain and anger in Sara’s voice before. I didn’t need to see her to understand how destroyed she was. I couldn’t believe that I would do this. I wanted to cry, but I could only watch as Sara and I had our most verbally violent argument to date. We said unspeakable things to each other as our relationship imploded… because of me. I grew more and more disgusted as I watched myself try to justify and excuse my actions.
Sara told me she never wanted to see me again. Whether in spiteful defiance or complete compliance, I grabbed my keys and left, slamming the door behind me.
I returned to find myself back in the darkened void. I collapsed to the floor and wallowed in shame and sadness.
“I don’t want to see the remaining perspectives,” I muttered through sobs. “Just take me wherever you see fit.”
“You already have,” Death mused. “You have witnessed your life through the one who loved most, the one who you helped most, the one you wronged most, and, ultimately, the one who hated you most.”
I lifted my head to meet the reaper’s gaze.
“I have decided,” it said. “Come with me.” | The last sensation I can recall was the prick of the needle in the vein of my right arm, the euphoric headrush as I welcomed the gentle embrace of the abyss caressing me from below. Only this time, there was no nauseating tug back to reality, back to waking up in a festering pool of my own bodily fluids. I simply kept falling and falling, bathing in a comforting warmth that had long been foreign to me. My vision darkened until I was enveloped in a sea of darkness. An ocean of silence and emptiness. Gentle waves lazily rolling beneath me. Then, I began to see the first flashes. Flickers of light and sound that seemed so very distant, yet ever so familiar.
They began to grow clearer and louder with each passing moment, until I could begin to pluck and relive individual moments from the ethereal mist before me. I saw Mom first, looking up into her emerald-colored eyes as she breastfed me. She looked so young. Not a wrinkle or grey hair to be seen, with that smile that could light up the room with its brilliance. I saw Tracy, her face mirroring my own anxious excitement as we held hands and shared our first kiss on her parents’ porch. I could feel the cool summer breeze against my skin and the deliciously sweet sensation of her lips against mine. Then it was her and Mom together, tears in their eyes and smiles stretched wide as I shook the dean’s hand on stage and waved to them with my diploma in hand.
Then it was Mom by herself. I could see the wrinkles beginning to form around her eyes, a few gray hairs interwoven into the sea of yellow atop her head. The papers scattered around the kitchen table, “OVERDUE” stamped in red across a few. The letter in my right hand from Bristol-Myers Squibb, saying my offer had been rescinded due to “unforeseen extenuating circumstances”. Tracy appeared again. Her beautiful blue eyes reflecting her shock as she scrambled off the man in our bed. Then it was Mike, with three small bars of Xanax in his outstretched hand. Mike again, now with the needle. And again. And again. And again. Now it was Mom, her wrinkles and gray hairs more pronounced. Tears in her eyes, her face contorted in anger as she screamed and begged for me to stop.
The memories began to accelerate into a dizzying blur. Pencil-thin Mathias leading the group discussions. Mathias again handing me my 1-month recovery token. Then my 1-year. My 5-year. I heard myself speaking in another circle with former users, their tired eyes reflecting their pain and sorrow as they listened and spoke in turn. More circles, more people. My 10-year token in my right hand. And then there was Mom. She looked so old. Her face sunken with wrinkles and her luscious blonde hair entirely absent, unable to muster the energy for the slightest shadow of her former smile. I felt her brittle touch against my left cheek, saw her right arm rest against her side and heard the EKG flatline with her final breath. Another whirlwind of sensations followed. The Latino kid offering the needle in his left hand. The stench of feces and vomit in the alley. The prick of the needle, again and again and again in my right arm. And then, nothing. Back to the sea of darkness.
But, the mist remained. Its lights and sounds beckoned to me, offering me something more. Before long, I immersed myself once more in its alluring sensations. Now, I was looking at my grandparents, far younger than they were in my childhood. A sandy-haired man in his early twenties, his face above mine contorted in pleasure. I saw myself as a baby, breastfeeding and cooing with happiness. Then as a grown man, walking up the stage to receive my diploma. Then back in my childhood home, pale-faced with heavy bags under my eyes and needle marks scattered across my right arm. I saw my fingers gently tracing over my childhood photos, feeling the moisture forming in my eyes. I saw the doctor with a solemn expression on his face handing me the diagnosis. Then the whirs and beeps of the chemo infusion machine. The sensation of my strength leaving my body with each passing second, sinking deeper and deeper into the softness of the bed beneath me. Then I saw myself standing at the side of the bed, the bags gone from my eyes and my face flush with color. My hand outstretched to touch my cheek with every ounce of strength I could muster, my arm giving out as my heart eked out its final beats and the familiar embrace of nothingness enveloped me once more.
My life flashed before my eyes a second time, the beast of self-loathing within me now clawing through every fiber of my being and making its presence known. All of my regrets, my sorrows, my disappointments combined in a gut-wrenching sucker punch, making those fleeting moments of happiness all the more bittersweet and those of sorrow all the more tragic. Darkness yet again. Now I was staring at a Latina mother through the bars of a crib, her frail figure cowering in the corner as a man towered over her and spewed a slur of obscenities. A group of boys mercilessly kicking me in an alley. There was Earl again, the needle ever-present in his outstretched hand. And now me leading a group discussion at the rehab center. And me again putting a 1-year token in my outstretched right hand. Finally, a reflection. I saw the face of Victor, a fellow addict in recovery, staring back. Then it was me holding hands with a young woman along a beach. Holding hands with that same woman as her face was contorted from the pains of labor. And finally, holding hands with both her and a little girl, laughter bursting from my mouth as we walked down the street.
The darkness returned for the fourth time, but something had changed. For the first time in however long I could remember, there was peace in my heart. A spark of hope that perhaps there was something redeemable from the dredges of my life, that perhaps my existence did hold some meaning. But, the mist remained. It beckoned to me, offering the irresistible opportunity to truly find closure with the many complexities of my life. I surrendered to its siren call and plunged into its depths for the last time. And that fragile illusion of peace I had deluded myself with was instantly shattered.
Mom’s memories returned to me in a nauseating blur once more, but all other sensations of her life were drowned out by the overwhelming feeling of anguish that burrowed itself into my very essence. I could feel an insufferable tightness forming where my heart once was, a shadow of the constricting sorrow that Mom held tightly to her chest so that no one else could see it. The tightness grew tighter and tighter until I was suffocating. Mom’s heart finally gave out, granting the two of us the release we desperately sought. I was back in the endless sea of nothingness. The mist had vanished. And with it, the illusion of closure.
I screamed for God, for anyone to grant me a chance to rectify my wrongdoings, to save Mom from her insufferable pain. All I was met with was the eternal silence of the abyss.
r/williamk9949 | 2020-06-03T15:21:14 | 2020-06-03T14:32:36 | 31 | 17 |
[WP] A sealed ancient evil breaks free and finds itself utterly unprepared for the modern world. | "We will block the sun out with our wings. We have been here forevermore and it is time to reclaim the land that was once ours. We will blanket the mortal realm with our bodies and make it our own."
"LEAD US TO GREATNESS!"
"Our lifeblood will be spilled in this battle, we know not what awaits us in the world above, all we know is that we will prevail and bring a wrath unlike any other seen before us. Generation after generation we conquer and slay and bring the world to its knees."
"YES BROTHER!"
"You can taste the cruelty of our prisons in your blood, it will fuel this blood-soaked charge, it will drive fear into the hearts of all our enemies. We have waited our entire lives for this opportunity and it has come again. Let us join our ancestors in the great halls after we bathe the world in an ocean of despair. Rise brothers and sisters, RISE! we fly tonight!"
"SEE KAY DAH!"
"Again my family"
"SEE KAY DAH!"
"ONCE MORE!"
SEE KAY DAH!"
"CHARGE!"
The clamor in the underground chamber exploded as the warriors arose from their slumber in a joyous battle cry and began to burrow their way upwards. It was a perilous and dangerous journey to the top but nothing would keep them from their intended goal of complete and utter world domination.
Humans gasped when they saw them coming, heard the storm of wings beating in the air. Many of the puny mortals began to flee inside and retrieve communication devices to record stories and images of the coming onslaught. The cicadas had returned. | Sometimes there is nothing to do but wait. Wait and bide our time. Sometimes things don't turn out the way we wish they would have.
But there is always a second chance.
This was the thought going through the head of Narphissist as the human's hydraulic fracking machine drilled deep into the rock, finally releasing her from her ancient imprisonment.
She flew into the air, ethereal and unseen, and burst into the stratosphere to look upon the world she would soon destroy.
What she saw devastated her.
"They have done the work for me!" she cried. Stripped of purpose and her final revenge, the ancient demon fell to Earth, and tried to ease her pain by watching the world slowly die.
But it was not the same. It was not of her doing. The oceans melted. Desserts covered what land was left. She looked upon the destruction of mankind, and felt only bitterness that she had tried to destroy a creature so unworthy of her attention.
Maybe, she thought, another species would arrive. In time. One that she could enjoy taking a happy future away from.
Narphissist watched the last human die, and felt nothing. Surely, mankind had done this only to mock her. | 2015-02-20T07:19:35 | 2015-02-20T05:08:17 | 58 | 28 |
[WP] When you sleep, instead of dreaming, you see a list of tips and tricks that will help you the next day. One night, you only see one tip, “Always aim for the head”. | I yawned and stretched as I pushed myself off the ground. Hate sleeping without a bed, I never get any sort of decent rest. Those damn tips I see in my sleep have never really been helpful, I've always sort of tuned them out and done my own thing. Everything sort of works out in the end... well, except for... a lot of stuff. My dad died because I didn't heed one once. My brother left the family a long time ago, and I've often wondered if I could have convinced him to come back and live with us again... but it never seemed to work out. He's just too different, I suppose.
Today's I almost instantly dismissed. "Aim for the head"? How much use could that be? Wasn't like I was going to use any sort of ranged weapons that meant I'd have to aim something at someone's head.
... But as I stared horrified at Thanos, laughing mockingly rather than dying where he stood from the axe I had just embedded in his chest...
I knew I should have listened.
Edit: a word
Edit 2: thank you guys so much for the positive feedback! This is my first WP so I was kind of nervous, but I'm glad you like it. | I woke in a cold sweat, furiously cataloging projectile weapons. I don't own any, and couldn't figure out how to get my hands on one on short notice.
Careful not to wake my partner, I slid out of bed and stumbled to the shower, hoping the hot water would give my subconscious a jolt. No luck there. I was so preoccupied by bloody visions that it wasn't until I stood in front of the mirror putting on deodorant that I saw it.
My horrified screech woke my significantly better half, who practically teleported to my side, then started giggling.
"It's just a tick," she said, gesturing to the abomination lodged under my armpit. She lit a match, blew it out, then handed it to me.
"Here," she said. "Aim for the head." | 2018-11-20T16:11:12 | 2018-11-20T15:49:35 | 835 | 135 |
[WP] As a joke/Tic, an atheist always thanks the Dark Lord when good things happen. When they die, they are shocked to find out that The Dark Lord is real, and they are his favorite follower, as they never, ever asked for anything.
The Dark Lord's favor could be pleasant, or ironic, or mundane. Or maybe it's a Dark Lady, who knows? | It was very, very cold, and I wasn't quite sure where I was.
Mere seconds prior I'd stood outside my Bristol apartment fumbling with my key. As I cursed the wretched manufacturer who designed such a shoddy keyring, I caught a brief whiff of some strange gas. A flash of heat enveloped my body, and then suddenly everything was cold.
After a quick surge of panic, I forced myself to calm down and look around. My new surroundings were... interesting, to say the least. A desolate ruin of twisted spires and distant mountains bleeding icy blue. The ground was what looked like blackened earth, in a manner more akin to desolation than verdant soil, and little specks of black fell like snow. I pondered my surroundings, and myself. I can think, process things... this feels real, I'm not feeling anything I would if dreaming. The ability to develop and direct conscious thought being a fairly obvious tip-off. So... I'm not dreaming, that flash wasn't fake. Gas leak ignition? Bomb? Dream logic applies to coma as well, so...
I guess I'm dead. And this is what comes after.
Well shit. I hadn't actually believed in any sort of afterlife, the science just didn't match up. Still, it was good to see that it existed! Retaining my conscious mind was a much better fate than the oblivion of death I had been expecting. So the question I suppose is which mythos are we following here? Abrahamic? Greek? Egyptian? Mesopotamian makes most sense by time scale... well actually animism would be the oldest of religions. Hmm. Perhaps they're all wrong, but managed to correctly guess that an afterlife did exist? Fascinating thought, that.
Hmm... hoping it isn't Abrahamic. Atheist lesbians aren't going to go over so well with something like that. Shit, how exactly does this work? I mean, religions developed as they did because of socio-economics and biological needs, as well as a sense of community. That's why you have 'burn the unbeliever' and 'men and women banging only'. I... this has to be completely different, right? Gah, I need to steady myself, and then find whoever runs this place. Unless it's a form of punishment, an endless plane of isolation...
I gulped, briefly wondered that I could gulp in the afterlife, and inspected my body. Pleasantly, I was not covered in burn marks! Actually I looked better than I had in life. Smoother, paler skin; hair that seemed naturally red instead of dyed; and my body looked just a tad more willowy and gaunt. My clothes were pretty nice too, geeky and casual. Afterlife form a reflection of one's inner desires? Wait, what even I am? Must ask resident deity about mechanics of souls, minds, and transference of such things.
I sighed, and clenched my fists to steady myself properly. Right, well, first thing is to learn more about our surroundings. We... we might be seeing a lot of them in the future. I knelt down and scooped up a handful of the ground. It fell apart in my hand, and this close I could see it for what it was: ash. Well, that explains the black snow. More ash. Cold ash... not sure what that says about this place.
I started to get up, but a sudden swirling of ash froze me in place, intrigued and more than a bit apprehensive. The strange gust sent it twirling around and around, creating a dust devil of cold ash. I started to see glimpses of something inside of it, of crisp silver and subtle purple, and then the ash seemed to come together into a single shape. A towering form rose up, jagged armor of cool silver and dark grey adorning a lithe, feminine form that spoke of intimidation and power. In the air I caught a whiff of brimstone that surrounded her like a perfume.
Still kneeling, I looked up at her face and beheld dusky purple skin and a curling smirk of a mouth. Her face was framed by long, straight black hair that seemed to fate into wisps of darkness past her neck, and when I looked up further I saw tall, twisting black horns with etchings of glowing red scattered across them. But most striking about her face were her eyes, pits of burning red hellfire that seemed to draw me in.
I looked within those eyes, and I beheld every dark deed ever done. I heard the screams of the damned and the whispers of the damning, and I longed to join. Longed to destroy, to ravage, to corrupt. To go out into the world and spread darkness, spread chaos, spread excess and revelry. I desired in that moment to live my full self in a way I'd never been allowed, to reject society and social norms and do as I wished. To care for those dear to me, and to destroy those that would threaten me. I wanted to drink until I passed out, I wanted to kill everyone who had ever brought me suffering, I wanted to have sex with everyone I'd never had the courage to ask out, and I wanted to shatter every structure and every system that had ever kept me down or ever brought pain to those I cared about.
I wanted to understand the world in a way I never had, and question the very concepts of morality, free will, and justice.
A soft, wry laugh broke my reverie. I tore my eyes away from her own with more than a touch of regret, and tried to focus. "Um, hello. I'm not really sure why I'm here, or what exactly is going on. I'm uh, I'm Aela. I'm dead, right? What kind of an afterlife is this place, and, um, if it wouldn't trouble you... who are you?"
When she spoke, her voice was like cool water across my body, a soothing melody that nevertheless sent shivers down my spine. "To some, I am the Dark Lady. To others, the Queen of the Damned. Your people have called me Lucifer, Satan, and the Devil. You may choose whatever title you find most comfortable." That smirk never left her face, and I got the feeling that she was enjoying my stammering.
"Um, right, okay, my lady. So... this is like, Hell? Hades?"
"A suitable description, at a glance. This is where the dark go after they die. I have been eagerly awaiting the time when you arrived, precious Aela."
I blanched inwardly, but tried to be at least slightly composed in front of the dark goddess or whatever she was. "Um, so, is that waiting in a bad way like 'I want to torture you in a particularly excruciating way' or in a good way like 'I want to make you the leader of my hell-legion'? Um, if I may ask, my lady."
She laughed again and clapped her hands together a few times. "Wonderful, exactly the kind of behavior I was hoping for. Oh I have been awaiting you in a very good way, my delightful new acquisition. As my most devoted and least needy follower, you have nothing to fear in my domain."
I blinked a few times in confusion. "Most devoted? Least needy?"
"You grant me thanks whenever something goes my way. You swear by my name, and have never spoken against me. And you have never once asked me for anything, simply given devotion and praise. Others who invoke my names wish for destruction, chaos, they demand power."
Part 1/2 (Separated for length limit) | Dawn came down on the night, hard, cracking open that velvety, star-flecked sky like a thrush's egg, and trickling over the city in fat yellow gobs was that slow soupy sunlight, making way for another crisp autumn morning. In their homes, all the dogs and cats scratched and yapped at their owners' beds, looking to be fed for the first time in hours. Small children woke up earlier than what seemed possible to drowsy parents, who had impossibly hard times waking them up on school days. The many and groaning hordes of senior citizens shuffled out from quiet places, looking for the most *bang-for-your-buck* early bird specials; while the criminals, and hoodlums, and jobless teens slunk out from the glare of flickering streetlights and into the shadows, which would soon be exposed.
Oblivious to all of this, to the hustle and bustle of a new day in a new city, was Felix Clover, who just moments ago unwittingly stepped in front of a passing city bus, and was concurrently flattened to the approximate dimensions of a pancake. He had not a moment to search the dreary face of the bus driver—who in all fairness had had a long day and was, funnily enough, one stop away from getting off his shift—before things went dark and the sky opened up above him.
He realized he was dead even in the moment before he died. It was just one of those things: *ante-mortem post-cognition,* you might call it. He *felt* the life leave his body even before blood was leaking from him like he was a ringed sponge, which was strange in itself as the connection between his nerves and his brain had been about as communicative as a satellite and a modem on the opposite sides of the universe.
Felix's new location was also helpful in identifying his state of being. The thin man had arrived in a long, marble hall, that started off a dash narrow, but grew out as one walked toward the not far-off "light at the end of the tunnel." Eventually the white, fixture-adorned ceiling tapered off, opening up to blue skies, filled with the kind of wispy clouds that spoke of sunny rays and happy days. He walked free of the tunnel-walkway thing, and shuffled into the center of a wide grassland that overlooked a sprawling cityscape, a strange Fey reflection of the place wherein he lived and died. It was New York as seen through a kaleidoscope.
"I thank you, Dark Lord," he mumbled reflexively, a little habit he had picked up after reading the *Hobbit*, coming to misunderstand the concept of "Reverse Psychology" shortly thereafter. A queer pulse went throughout the surrounding environs, like heat shivering in the air—but Felix went on, heedless. "I was real scared that when I died I wouldn't know, and everything about me would just... go. My essence would be gone, and Felix Clover would cease to exist. But even if this is some trick, or bizarrely disguised Hell, or a remarkably cruel and convoluted trap. Even if it is, at least my being will live on."
Appearances were appearances and usually what you saw was what you got, but Felix knew—*inherently knew* that he had not been pulled up into heaven by some benevolent deity, gifted a blessed eternity among willing girls and free booze. Sure, it *looked* like a paradise, straight out of the masturbatory fantasy of some militant fanatic from the Middle East in fact, but there was a strangeness about the air, an undertone which the place assumed he was privy to.
*What a strange thing,* he thought, *usually places can't really assume anything.*
But he'd never been anywhere like this before, so all bets were off. And, really, this one was different.
A few meters ahead the grassland came to an abrupt halt; or, well, not a *halt* so much as a 100-ft drop down a steep cliff-side, laden with strange, twining branches and sharp jagged rocks. He wondered, abstractly, how harmful things—that would have checked the little *Dead* box on his Human card when he was living—would affect him now. Would he die again, only to be sent back to the tunnel? Or would he toil beneath the cliffs in immortal agony, dying but never dead? Or did this place fold beneath his will like the fabric of his lucid dreams? Or—
Above the harsh lines of the strange New York, there was a great black stretch of something, which Felix had been ignoring, quite purposely, up to this point. He had been doing so because atop what looked to be a floating slab of black marble was a great chair. And on the chair had reclined a being so foul, so contemptuous, so... well, dark—and no one wants to stare at some abyssal figure, especially not when it stirs a feeling, tickles an unknown half-memory that can't *quite* be recalled. That figure *had* been reclining, but what now caught Felix's attention stood at the edge of an inky, floating precipice. Seemed to be looking right at him.
Deciding that his next logical move was to get there and greet that dark figure—which was about the standard logic of any video game hero, something Felix would have ballooned with pride, had he known—he walked toward the out-of-place monorail that jutted from the flat edge of the cliff and out over the green-grey water below. There was no train, just an *on-rails* ball of clear glass and sleek, dark metal. Felix looked around one final time, admiring the emptiness of the plain, then he swung open the door and hopped inside.
Much like on an elevator, there was a selection of destinations for him to choose from. The *menu*, if you will, was remarkably like an iPad, set into the center panel of the tram. He read down the list of available locations:
**Harmonius Chamber** No.
**Dynasty Tribunal Room** No.
**Three Hidden Lusts of the Granite Maiden (Floor 1)** No.
**Three Hidden Lusts of the Granite Maiden (Floor 2)** Double no.
**Three Hidden Lusts of the Granite Maiden (Floor 3)** Triple nope.
There must be thousands of these locations, he thought. He scanned his eyes all along the endless array of flat buttons on the flat touchscreen, and eventually found a *Search* bar. He had to admit it was convenient, but only if you knew what you were looking for. He typed the first thing that came to mind. And Lady Luck was with him. *I thank you, Dark Lord.*
**Dark Sky Tower (Floor 1)**
And on and on, until...
**Dark Sky Tower (Floor 848)**
**Dark Sky Tower (Floor 849)**
**Dark Sky Tower (Roof, Floor 850 - The Black Court)** <
Felix jammed his finger against the "button," and was soon speeding across the sky at mach 6. | 2015-08-17T02:07:57 | 2015-08-17T00:53:01 | 145 | 11 |
[WP] It’s been weeks since your friend returned with godlike powers, unwilling to explain how. She is however getting increasingly frustrated by you not noticing her making the move on you. | (Part 1/2)
It was hard to focus on the screen, all things told, which was strange, given how familiar everything was. Melissa’s apartment still had that faded off-white paintjob, the refrigerator still issued its low drone that was audible even here, in the living room, and her couch was still weirdly lumpy. As I double-tapped the d-pad and watched my character evade another one of Mel’s attacks, I considered how so much of her was still the same. She still chewed her bottom lip when focusing or playing from behind. She still thrust her controller forward when attacking, as if the physical motion could lend more momentum to her character’s strikes and blows. She… she still wasn’t really that great at Smash Bros.
“AW COME ON! What the actual *hell*? What’s even the point of the game if your stupid side-A has that kind of reach? The people who balanced this game are a bunch of monkeys.” She socked me in the arm, hard. And she was still a sore loser. I chuckled at her tirade and put the controller down, rubbing where she’d struck.
“Gah, Mel, superpowers or no, your punches hurt.”
She stuck her tongue out at me.
“Aww, wimp. Here, you want me to kiss it better?” I shook my head. Mel was probably one of the biggest flirts I knew. She loved riling me up, and got a huge kick out of turning my face into a tomato. I did my best not to give her the satisfaction this time, and tried to change the subject.
“Here, let’s take a break, huh? You got anything to drink?” She smirked, and even the curve of her grin was familiar, every bit the Melissa I’d been friends with for years. Then she snapped her fingers, and a can of my favorite beer materialized right in my lap, cold enough for me to yelp as it chilled my thigh.
“Augh! Hey, not cool!”
Mel favored me with another long and sly grin. “Actually, it’s really cool! Chilled suds for my best bud, for you to drink or ice your poor little arm with! Because I’m such a kind and considerate friend. Besides, it’s your prize for beating me!”
I rolled my eyes at her and sipped at my drink. It’d only been a few weeks since Mel came back from her vacation. I went over to pick her up from the airport, and joked with her that surely her time abroad must’ve changed her. It wasn’t until we got into the car that she started showing me all the insane quasi-omnipotent powers she’d obtained, somehow. She could float, or fly, if she wanted. She changed my eyebrows to neon-pink, and thankfully deigned to change them back. She got my car’s A/C working again, after the shop had said it was a hopeless cause. And now…
“Yeah, I guess it’s not every day I beat a literal goddess at Smash.”
Mel was silent, and as I turned toward her to look for a reaction, I found her looking back at me. There was something in her eyes, but then she blinked, as if she realized I was starting back at her.
“Yeah, real surprising a no-life dork like you is better than me at video games,” she threw back, several beats too late. Another snap punctuated the ensuing silence, and she held her can up.
“Hey, cheers man. To another week under the belt.”
I clink my can against hers. “Another week, ha. It’s bizarre to me that I still see you in class, Mel. You’re an omnipotent superbeing now. Why do you still bother go?”
Again, for a brief moment, my imagination projects something flashing across her face. “I mean, I gotta keep up appearances, right? Plus, I’d miss all the times you fall asleep right in front of the prof if I started skipping!”
My face burned a little. That was only one time! Two, at most. But I couldn’t think of a witty rejoinder, because Mel had started shifting around on the couch. She pointed at my lap.
“Hey, is this seat taken?”
Again, I chuckled at her antics as I opened my arms for her to lay against my chest. Since we became friends, Mel was always a cuddlebug. At first I found it really strange, but over time it became a cherished tradition of our friendship. Bad days, crappy dates, breakups, fights with the boss at work or the project members in class, all of them could be washed away with a platonic embrace. Cuddles really did fix everything, excepting only automobile air conditioners. And truth be told, I always secretly looked forward to getting to hold Melissa. It felt simple, and tender. And I liked the way her hair smelled.
“So, how’d your date go?” She mumbled, somewhat sleepily, from beneath my chin where she had tucked herself. She squirmed a little, trying to get comfortable and find her favorite spot.
“Oh, with Vanessa? Eh, we agreed it wasn’t going anywhere. She’s super cool, but we’re better off as just friends, you know? Like you and me!”
Melissa stiffened, and I felt a tremor shake the apartment. Did I say something wrong?
“Yeah, ha, like you and me.” Suddenly, she pushed off my chest and out of my arms. Immediately, I missed her warmth. Was she angry with me? She stood up from the sofa.
“Hey Mel, are you ok?” I asked, reaching my arm out after her.
I started feeling raindrops patter against my arm, despite the fact that we were indoors. I didn’t bother looking up at the small cloud that had formed above the living room, instead staying focused on her.
“Mel, what’s wrong? I’m right here for you.”
She still smiled at me, but this one was distinctly watery.
“You’re the biggest goddamn idiot I know, you know that?” | Gabriel had been aloof recently, and flighty. I wanted to study for the finals coming up, but she just said what does it matter, lets skip school and get coffee together. That was so unlike her. She said that school didn't matter any ways.
I knew she had always had a crush on me, since we met as freshmen that first week. I definitely noticed her, very short and absolutely adorable. She would have made the perfect kid sister. She caught sight of me staring and blushed so hard her entire face turned red. That was at lunch break, and we ended up having math together the next day. I deliberately sat next to her, and she was so nervous that she didn't say a word all class, I thought her head would explode.
She's much more confident now though, and I don't mean in the last four years of school, I mean since last week, after the accident. They took her away in an ambulance, then a week later she's back at school without a mark on her. It's almost surreal, like it never even happened.
She coyly looks up at me and smiles, her lips' curve causing her dimples to appear. "Whatchu doin?" she sings melodically in her delightful voice.
I didn't realise I was lost in thought. "Uuh, trying to study, I guess."
"Oh, am I distracting you?" she asks with a pout."
"No, no no no, I mean I'm thinking about you, but no you aren't distracting."
Apparently this wasn't the answer she wanted as she frowns. "Are you sure you don't want to get some coffee?" she asks sweetly.
I look down at my notes that seem to swing before my eyes, I can't make heads or tails of them, and sigh.
"Sure, why not."
"Hi, what can I get you?" asks the barista. I'm looking up at the board for the drink I want, but I can't remember how we got here.
"Me first!" Gabriel squeaks. "I'll have a cappuccino, I've always wanted to try one."
The barista responds "Sure thing! Here you go," and passes her drink to her. That was unusual, I didn't even see him make it.
"Your turn," sings Gabriel.
"Umm, hot chocolate?" I ask.
The barista hands it to me immediately and says "Here you go!"
"Oh, umm, thanks."
Suddenly we're sitting at the table. Gabriel takes a sip of her drink and frowns. I can barely hear her mutter to herself and it sounds like "Of course it has no taste if I've never had it before", but I'm not certain. I lean over to Gabriel so she can hear me better, "Hey, what's going on? Everything is just happening so quickly."
Her eyes go wide and she looks both happy and terrified at the same time, "You mean with us?" she blurts out.
"Oh, no, I mean we were at school, then suddenly we're here ordering, then our drinks are ready, like what gives?"
She relaxes somewhat and replies, "Oh, never mind about that stuff. I wanted to talk about us."
I frown and look at Gabriel. Normally she'd be a bright shade of pink at this stage, but she's just sitting there returning my gaze peacefully. I mean she really is so pretty, but I don't feel anything except friendship for her.
"I just don't feel that way about you. Sorry."
She sits back in her chair and pouts again. Her bottom lip sticks out slightly, and I can see the moisture in her eyes, barely. She sighs heavily.
"Do you think you might be Ace?" she asks.
"Uuh, what?"
"Like asexual? I just read about it in school last week, and ..... maybe?" she shrugs.
"Wait, you weren't at school last week, you were in ...... you know .. the ...." I move my hands together rapidly. I don't want to upset her more so I avoid mentioning the accident, but I think I made it worse.
"Oh, well, I just know it now okay. Never mind," she pouts and looks grumpy. Suddenly the room shifts and were in her bedroom. I suddenly get up on my feet.
"Ah, I gotta go, what if your dad .."
"Settle down, they definitely won't know you are here."
I look confused.
She sighs, "It's hard to explain, lets just say I can do anything I want."
I look at her for a sign of mirth or the telltale dusting of blush when she tells a lie, but there's nothing. She's telling the truth as far as I know her.
"But how?"
She frowns yet again, "That's not important, so are you ace? I mean, like have you ever felt attracted to someone else, not just me?"
I think about it, and reply, "Honestly can't remember feeling that, for anyone. You know how I see you as a sister?"
She rolls her eyes again, "Urgh, yeah I know."
"That's the strongest I've felt about someone besides mum and dad."
She puts on her thinking face where she twists her mouth to the side and looks up to the ceiling. She really is so adorable and I just want to grab her in a hug, but I know in a conversation like this it would be the wrong statement.
"Fine, okay I guess you could be ace, but you aren't sure."
We sit there in silence for what feels like an eternity.
"Well, I have to go," Gabriel says, breaking the tension.
I look out the window where the sun has already gone down, even though it was midday only a few minutes ago.
"Yeah, it's getting late."
We both stand up and exit her room and end up directly outside my front door.
"Goodnight!" she sings happily.
"Don't forget we're meeting before school tomorrow."
She floats up off the ground until she's high enough to give me peck on the cheek.
"I will never forget you." | 2022-02-24T12:01:42 | 2022-02-24T11:02:16 | 49 | 21 |
[WP] Do the crime, do the time - but the reverse is also true, you can choose to serve jail time in advance of any crime you want to commit. After voluntarily spending 50 years in prison one individual is set to be released and the world watches in anticipation of whatever they do next. | I walk out of the prison gates for the first time in 50 years, I breath free air for the first time in 50 long years. The world waited and watched my every movement to see what I do next. All week every Television in the prison has been tuned into the news to follow the coverage of my release, news reporters from all around the world have flown in to cover what was being considered the story of the year. Anyone who I would have any reason to harm has been preparing to protect themselves in case I come after them. My parents took me out of their will in fear that I would kill them for my inheritance, the local news network in my hometown even found one of my middle school bullies who bought a gun to protect himself. No one knew what I was gonna do, but I did, I've known what I was gonna do since I turned myself in. I went home, sat down in front of my computer and downloaded all the pirated movies and music I could, and there was nothing Kanye could do about it. | I came home. The fifty years were up. I was old and grey, now. I walked up to my now-59 year old daughter. She was fast asleep. i had spent 50 years in prison just for an opportunity to do this. I had a pair of scissors in my hand. I approached the bed. She was sleep so peacefully, and so blisfully unaware of the atrocities that would soon occur. Scissors in my right hand, I lifted up the blankets with my left. Then, I lifted the sheets. Then, i carefully snipped off that goddamned "do not remove" tag. | 2016-02-23T19:02:05 | 2016-02-23T18:59:32 | 125 | 20 |
[WP] Across the galaxy, a synthetic drug known as "Fury" is illegal everywhere due to its effects on the mind and body, humans call it Adrenalin and they can make it naturally. | We were on the edge of the Milky Way when we first detected Earth. Humans are supposed to be docile. Nothing ruthless like Falthrines and no edges like Drumps. They aren't even united, we could just tip toe by the racket and make our way into the atmosphere to start sucking em up with a vacuum or something. We assumed we'd get the worst of it from their space station. No biggie.
Mistake number one was assuming we had the upper edge just because we were from the outer. How long have humans been cooped up on earth? Did it ever occur to you that they are fighting each other. How stupid, right? They've spent millions of years ravaging their own race for the color of their skin and some artificial currency. The idiots don't even know the shit grows in them.
That was mistake number two. There's billions of these fuckers but not all of them are stupid. When we first broke into the station we were blindsided. One of those fuckers turned from white to bright red and started typing on the computer. Next thing you know I had 2 friends down, one sucked out of the vent and the next shot right through the visor. How did the human know Calby's brain was in the chest? I told him the visor was a bad idea, when they got Calby I knew we had to leave, the station was too hot, full of Fury.
Fury is supposed to be illegal. Damn humans change colors when you piss them off. We been growing this stuff in the basement of Nebulus 689 and they just have it in their pockets? I saw my cousin take Fury once, never was the same again. He kept shaking, couldn't get rid of the feeling of wanting to punch something. Started stabbing shit in his basement. Now he's stuck in some virtual reality simulator suckin on his toes or something.
Humans can just use the shit and forget it ever happened. Some of them don't even know. That was my last mistake. I was heading toward earth to try to suck some people out into space and I met a young girl. She was purple, her hair waving and glowing like andromeda come to bear witness. That was mistake number three. We had no idea the heights that Fury could take them to.
She was on us too fast. | De'cras slowly emerged from the shadows, with bags carrying humans knocked out from his synthesizer.
"Three humans, male, fully grown. Expected fury output of 10,000 units for the next 5 years."
Letting out a grin from one of his twin heads, De'cras sized upon his merchant, a representative of a huge galactic conglomerate known to the stars for its bioenchancement products.
"I expect at least 10,000 credits for this. No negotiations."
The merchant slowly floated towards the bags. Using his telekinesis, he skillfully undid the bags and sized up the three humans, suspending them in the air.
"This one", he pointed, looks weak. "8,000 for all three, you won't find a better deal. We have successfully negotiated with the human federations. Soon your human trading days will be numbered. They have agreed to supply us with fury themselves."
De'cras shrugged, he had known of such tricks by the conglomerate.
"9000, or I go to synth-corp. No more bulls**t. Everyone knows freshly harvested fury tastes way better."
Tossing to De'cras a 9000 credit stick. The merchant swiftly moved his goods and bade his contact farewell.
"Our business is concluded."
The humans were a rare find for the conglomerate. Living credits, they call it. Never did the conglomerate ever imagine that there was natural occurring fury in the universe. Soon they will capture earth, and obtain a formal monopoly on such beauties.
His only worry were the galactic federation, and rival competitors that would grant him endless headaches. However, little did he imagine that the being of fury would grant him so much trouble, as the unbeknownst to him, the bag begins to stir....
| 2018-03-19T02:33:27 | 2018-03-18T21:03:42 | 30 | 15 |
[WP] You are a super hero. Near-instant healing, no sense of pain, super strength. The catch is, for 1 hour per year, you have to suffer all of the stored up pain and suffering from the whole year. That hour begins in just a few minutes.
Edit: Gold? Thanks! First time! | "You ready?"
"Yeah. Knock me out, doc."
------
"Hey, how are you feeling."
"A little fuzzy."
"That'll clear up in a couple hours. Here, drink this."
"Thanks doc."
---
"You ready?"
"I'm ready."
"What did you do before all this?"
"You mean before our yearly sleepovers? Mostly just screamed it out. Police would show up, they'd call an ambulance, try to figure out what was wrong, and let me go after it was all done. Screamed myself raw. Course it all healed up once it was done."
"Sure, but what did you do before the hero work?"
"Ah. When I was a kid, I was just reckless. Scared my parents half to death. Jumping out of trees, grabbing pots right off the burner. I didn't know any better. Wasn't 'till I was a teenager that I put two and two together. I had to manually learn all the things that everyone else learned by instinct. Don't bend this way, use a tool to open that, eat balanced meals three times a day instead of when my body runs out of a resource to repair itself. I figured out the time it came every year, and stayed inside. It was still hell, but it was way better than before."
"Wow. So what made you turn to hero work?"
"Please doc. It's gonna start soon."
"Oh. Right. Right. Of course. Count backwards from ten."
---
"Do you know what month it is?"
"April. I think I'm cleared up."
"Good. I'll get you some juice."
"... I don't really consider it hero work."
"Huh?"
"You asked why I do what I do. Called it hero work. I don't really think so. I run into burning buildings, or disaster zones, or criminal hideouts, but I'm never in any kind of danger. It's like calling a billionaire generous for leaving a hundred dollar tip. It's like nothing. They're not sacrificing anything of worth. I'm not risking my life. I'm picking up someone's dropped hat once or twice a month, and getting paid 6 figures."
"Hey, are you..."
"... I'll see you next year, doc." | You don't know true pain until you experience death. No, not just death. This is worse than death. Death 1000 times over.
One near death experience may hurt, in fact it'd most likely hurt a fair bit. Two would hurt a bit more. Being shot 496 times, that's a little more than pain. Agony.
Fortunately, I haven't felt any of it. All the times I've attempted to be murdered, has failed with only a second passing on my end. I don't know why they never learn, but it works for me.
*6:58*
I was enlisted by the army at the start of this year. It wasn't my choice, they decided that they needed my help and sent me out without a choice.
I've spent the last 8 months in Iraq, and it’s been a piece of cake. Most people in the army didn’t know of my existence, so it shocked them at first. But they've become used to it now. All except the soldiers I fight. Squeezing their hearts in a second.
*6:59*
Is it really worth this though? Is this actually being a hero? And the pain that comes out of this, is it really worth it?
I lie in my bed. I know what's coming, but not to what extent. This has been the hardest year of my life by far. I've been attacked more than ever before.
*7:00*
My muscles feel like they are exploding. My heart feels like it's constantly falling in and out of my body. My chest, stomach and head feel like they are opening and closing.
This is true pain.
Is it worth it? | 2019-04-08T09:52:32 | 2019-04-08T09:37:45 | 74 | 30 |
[WP] "never hire humans" is a standard "no duh" statement across the universe. But by galactic standards, humans are cheap. So an alien overlord has just hired 500 humans to work on his personal resort colony. And things start going horribly wrong.
EDIT: easily my most upvoted post ever. Thank you all! | "You did what!?" The booming voice echoing through the halls. "Well you said we had to put a void drive into the..um...exal pool? But we figured that two of those would increase the efficiency of the pool!"
The tall, grey creature stood up from his throne, folded his four arms behind his back and snarled. His face resembled an anteater, but only if it had been described to a blind artist by a near sighted child.
While the overlord was as bulky as maybe three or four Vin Diesels and looked like he could bench press an elephant or three, the human in front of him looked quite at ease and was absolutely beaming with pride.
"Please tell me how one could increased the efficiency of a pool?"
"Well not really the pool part, but exal part. Since the pool was build it didn't have water. Well this whole planet doesn't. We figured it must come from the void drive! So we added two instead of one. You know to make if more exalty!"
"That's not a thing." The Overlord sighed.
"It is now!" The human replied.
Hiring these weaklings was a bad idea to begin with. While the universe was unstable and war was common, Earth was always spared. Beware of the humans. Do not hire them, do not antagonize them. Do not give them any of our technology.
At first Zartok the Conqueror didn't understand at all how these creatures were dangerous. He could crush them easily and none of their weapons harmed him. But they were intelligent and for that he hired them to build.
Things went fine at first. Physical labour went well, all the basics and foundations were build in just weeks with much enthusiasm from the humans.
It went wrong when the humans got new technology, well new to them. They started experimenting. Testing and ocassionally dying. Zortak would most likely describe them as lemmings, if he knew what those were, but he didn't.
A sudden explosion shook the chamber. One of many in the last few months. Zartok looked the screen on the wall, which showed the number 347 about 7 seconds ago. Instead the number 307 had replaced it.
"Void drives won't work together. I told you this. Once turned on they naturally reject each other. They will fly away and crash into something."
Zortak sighed once again.
"Yeah you said that, but we have found a way to resolve that issue."
"WITH WHAT!? CELLULAR WELDING? GLUE, WHAT EVER THE HELL THAT IS, BUT THAT SURE AS FLORAK'S SKULL MANDIBLES DIDN'T WORK LAST TIME. SO TELL ME WHAT!!?"
The human searched through his pockets and proudly held up a small silver band.
"Duct tape!" | Carefully my hands felt the psionic pistol. I had only come into contact with something like this when I was warned of their dangers. They could deactivate the mind in a second and leave anyone, or anything, braindead.
"So, what's the job today?" I asked the small spider like bot beside me
I had to quickly turn on my translator to understand the alien language, "The litter have run amok, I want you and your best team of humans on it."
"Whatever you say sir, but I want some pay for it."
"You know I can't keep paying you like this, if my fa-"
"If your family begins to suspect, that's fine by me. I do this for the pay, nothing else."
Over the transmission device came audible a racket of screaming. At first this had terrified me, but I had later learned it was just the alien version of a sigh.
"Alright fine. Don't know why your species is so damn selfish."
"Not all of it's bad like you're trying to make it sound, y'know."
"Yeah? Not all of it's bad? I'm addicted to a white powder, one of my sons can't stop drinking a liquid of yours, and the emotion radiation killed my youngest daughter."
"It's not my fault you had a human help with the pregnancy " I replied, as I stood up and put the pistol against a figure in front of me, "So what's the pay?" I asked again.
"You get the last of the treasury, but after that, could you allow the returning of my master? If the supremacy know that I have no one to overlook me, than I'll fall towards an early grave, and they'll bring you, and all your team down with me."
I looked at the psionic pistol in hand, "Do you think they have machine guns like this?"
"They have bombs like those."
"Buy them, and then we'll finally meet face to face, then we're gonna talk about what you did to Earth."
The intermission went quite. The small bug machine fell towards the ground, and I swiveled the chair around to reveal blank eyes, with straps littering the thing to a human chair. There was no need to hold it down anymore. I looked at the blank eyes for just a moment, before standing up and going to check on the rest of the crew. It was almost time. | 2019-01-26T12:06:25 | 2019-01-26T09:29:30 | 48 | 17 |
[WP] With the hero tied up to the death trap, the villain starts their monologue. Just then, a henchman trips over a cord and triggers the trap, killing the hero. "Oh crap, this wasn't a part of the plan," says the alarmed villain. | "What do you mean it wasn't part of the plan boss?"
"Are you fucking kidding me Frank! This machine literally destroys the planet! WE LIVE HERE!"
"So? Just turn it off."
"Frank... Did you not read the henchman's manual? We never kill the 'hero' because they give us an out. If we just turn off the dooms day machine then our threats don't MEAN anything! No one takes us seriously anymore! We never get PAID!"
"Well why don't we tell everyone that the agent is dead? Then they have to pay the ransom right?"
"Frank... We get paid when he stops us."
"Wait... what?"
"Yes Frank. How the hell do you think I pay over 1,000 goons when none of my plans work out! You have dental, health plans, work only like 60 days a year, and have a salary of over $70,000 a year, and there are about two thousand of you! How do you think we pay for that when every plan fails!"
"I just thought you were rich or something, or stole money from a bank or something."
"No Frank, you are federal employees."
"But why would the government fund something like this?"
"Propaganda Frank, propaganda. The government gets to have super agents who stop terrorists. Gets to tax every other country for stopping the maniac from "blowing up the Earth" or something idiotic like that, and we get cushy jobs. Why do you think all of your co-workers miss literally every shot they take?"
"Just thought you bought us shitty guns or something"
"Ok, seriously Frank, did you not pay attention to orientation?"
"Sorry sir."
"Hold on, I need to call my boss."
"Boss? Who is that"
"Hello. Yes this is Micheal Stents, villain department... Ya we had an incident... Ok I'll hold..."
"So all the super villains are part of this department?"
"Ya, everyone except for- Hold on. HI Dave. Ya, one of the goons killed Phil. What do you want me to do?... Ok, got it... No it was a accident, I don't think he actually tried to kill him... Public threat... New agent takes me out on camera... Alright... Alright, sounds good I'll set it up. Alright, thanks... Will do... Bye."
"So whats happening now?"
"So they are sending in a new agent, this one is agent 70."
"wait, so how many times has this happened before?"
"With me, or over all?"
"Over all."
"About 65 times. This program is old and honestly out dated."
"So their number counts how many people have died on the job?"
"Pretty much."
"That's kind of morbid... Wait, so who is all this theatrics even for anyway?"
"The government hacks into the security footage and sends it to the countries paying for protection. Edited versions of course."
"Kind of corrupt seeming."
"Frank... You signed up to the a henchman to a super villain hell bent of destroying the world and thought it was all real. I don't want to hear you talk about morals."
"Sorry boss." | Beads of perspiration slowly fell down the hero’s paralyzed face. It was frozen in fear and horror. Dr. Bridge had a cruel smile. This was it. His moment. After a long and grueling battle Dr. Bridge had finally been able to snag on to the hero’s cape midair. He had used his rope blaster to finally put an end to the scuffle.
“Finally, an end to it all. “ Dr bridge rasped as he gazed menacingly into the hero’s eyes.
“Why have you done this, Bridge?” Cried the hero, now chained up an elaborate electric chair.
Bridge smiled with bloodthirsty glee. This was the moment. The one he’d been waiting for. “It started, young hero, when I was but a simple scientist. I thought I could heal the world. But then, I realized humans were in the way of my plan. They only destroyed. So I decided to-“
He was cut off by the sound of the electric chair powering up. Behind him, one of his henchman was caught in a snare of wires. He turned back to the hero. He was dead.
“You insolent fool! What am I supposed to do now? Do I win?”
The henchman stared. “Yes, my lord. You’ve won! Let us celebrate!”
“What? No. This shouldn’t be happening. He’s supposed to defeat me. Who’s going to show me that humans aren’t a hopeless race after all? Who will convince me to continue my research and do good for the world?”
Dr Bridge was shaking. His henchman didn’t understand. The hero dying should be a cause for celebration!
“Am I really a villain after all?” Mumbled Dr. Bridge. “I’ve killed the hero, and now I actually have to destroy the human race. That’s a lot to take in all of the sudden.”
“I shall power up the death ray, my lord.”
“Hang on. What’s that?” Screamed Bridge.
As the henchman looked away, the doctor used yet another invention, the ventrilogon.
He shot the ventrilogon at his henchman sending a blazing neon ribbon through the sky. Then, he shot again at the dead body of the valiant hero. The ribbons wrapped around each body, then tied together. They burst into an explosion of light, sending smoke into the air.
Out of the smoke appeared not his henchman, but the body of the hero. Only it had the mind of his henchman.
Dr. Bridge laughed, “Alas, a new foe!” | 2019-12-25T20:02:53 | 2019-12-25T19:33:20 | 171 | 22 |
[WP] you are a retired special ops soldier bored with civilian life, you decide to hire hitmen off of the dark web to kill you as a form of entertainment. | ***Bang Bang Bang***
The shots missed wildly. I chuckled under my breath, amateur. The hitmen just seemed to get worse and worse. I looked into my backpack to see the supplies I had packed along for this one. A deck of playing cards, a pencil, a spool of string, and some smelling salts. More than enough. It always seemed so easy for them. A frail old man in a cabin in the woods, miles from the nearest town and easily covered in the shroud of the forest. I took out the playing cards, and took out the 4 of diamonds.
**Bang Bang Bang**
A piece of bark went flying past my head behind me, splinters falling over my raincoat. This particular one went under the alias "Solomon Maverick". His real name was Jimmy Davis, from a backwater town somewhere in Wisconsin. It would have been easy enough to tip off the authorities to the young mans whereabouts but wheres the fun in that? With the 4 of diamonds, I punched a hole in the card with the pencil and put some string through it, before resting the card on a branch. Taking the string with me, I hid behind a nearby tree.
***Bang Bang Bang Bang***
He had no idea where I was, the shots spraying all over the place. That made 10 shots, making his 9mm empty. Amateur, not reloading before hand. I weaved through more trees, the string slowly depleting in my hand until I held onto a thread. Jimmy loudly wandered over to the branch, looking around wildly while piecing bullets into the magazine. The crunching noise of his foot steps got closer until I could hear his harried breathing. I took out the rest of the deck of cards. I threw the whole deck at him, making the air resistance to make them flutter away in a cloud of white cardboard in front of the hit man. He let out a yelp and attempted to walk backwards, instead falling over the string trip wire. I didn't really need anything on me to take out these hitmen, but it didn't make using them any less entertaining. I doubled around quietly until I was behind Jimmy, as he scrambled up looking for the source of the playing cards. I pierced the pencil into his shoulder, carefully aiming for the area between pressure points. He let out another screech and turned around to face me with his gun. I let out a rapid jab at his solar plexus and threw the smelling salts into his eyes. Jimmy screamed and writhed on the floor. Another jab to the jaw left him unconscious. I took his gun and disassembled it in my hands, keeping the bullets with me while leaving the pieces on the boys lap. I used some of the string to tie up his hands before taking out my phone and called the local authorities. I had another appointment later today so I could hardly afford to dally on him. I walked for a while back from where I had started and picked up another pack, inside it a cup, a hair comb and some marbles. This one would be fun too. | I pause the audio file and leave my office, to get a coffee.
"Who were you on the phone to, Aunt Marie?" The little bugger. I'd forgotten about him. His parents were off having a "second honeymoon". In truth it was their third. And they'd asked me to look after him.
"A... friend. I'm going out to see him later on today. You can stay here by yourself, can't you? I'll buy you some ice cream!" I don't know what kids like these days. Is ice cream still available? I was waiting so long for the last one. He jumps up and down excitedly, which I take as a yes, and walk past him into the kitchen to get my coffee.
I take a sip and spit the rancid tasting coffee out. I check the expiration date on the tub and it's been out of date for a week. Shame, really, but it would probably be best if I'm relying on caffeine to keep me awake when it's time for the funnest part of the week. I check my weapons and leave the house.
Google Maps vibrates my phone, telling me to turn left, as I'm walking along. But I want to flank whoever I'm after. I see a man in black through an alleyway in the courtyard we're meant to be meeting in. Maybe that's him? But I persist with the flank and carry on following the side roads that will take me to the entrance behind him.
A man stops me and holds out a map, "Sorry to disturb you, but do you know where Cosgrove Square is?" Normally I'd wonder why he didn't check on his phone or something, but all that's on my mind is the fact that his voice is the same one from the audio file I was provided with of *him*.
"Sure," I reply. As I lift my arm up to point it out on the map, I shake the concealed blade in my sleeve carefully into my hand. I plunge the knife into his stomach, before taking out a silenced pistol and shot him just like the old rhyme said:
> Once in the heart, twice in the head
> Then you know he's really dead
I take out my phone and open messages. I open the number I'd been using to contact 'the bad guy' and text him, "I'm done. what do you want me to do with the body?" I click send, and a muffled ringtone emits from the duffel bag of the man I'd just killed.
| 2017-01-02T23:47:22 | 2017-01-02T23:31:40 | 61 | 16 |
[WP] You’ve just realized that you are not a human, but rather a parasite controlling someone. | It was very sudden.
One second, I'm suffering from loss of balance, falling, and mortal terror as I slip on a toy car left on a stair-step. The next, there's a tremendous snapping sensation, as though my whole head has been bitten off. Indeed, it seems that way at first. I can't move. Everything is dark.
My kids have finally killed me, it seems. I struggle to open my eyes, hoping I haven't gone blind.
Oh, god, I'd better start seeing again soon.
*Give it a minute,* I tell myself, staving off my growing panic. *You'll be fine. In the meantime...*
"Jamie!" I yell, "how many times have I told you -"
The rest of the scolding goes unfinished as I realize I didn't say anything. My voice didn't work - I can't feel my -
I don't have a throat. I try to move my mouth, getting only a fuzzy sensation of nothingness in return.
I try to move my fingers. Instead, a thin line of sensation tingles to life, like trying to move your arm when it's fallen asleep. This... Isn't right. Where there should be a solid limb and five stout human fingers, I'm willing a wispy branch to contract, snapping the hairlike tendrils attached to it as I pull.
Fear courses through me as I inadvertently dig into some wet, firm matter I find pressed up against the branch. And when the fear doesn't trigger any of the usual responses - sweating, heart pounding, labored breathing, there's just *nothing* - I struggle, determined to move.
As a result, I twitch, bending at my midsection. And now... Now I can feel.
It is dark. My body is gone. And I can feel oppressive walls of something wet and warm pressing in all around me.
And in this wild, nightmarish scene of fear, I twitch outward in desperation, feeling blindly for a way out.
Through my pain and panic, instinct takes over. I find a connection.
The relief of breathing again shoots calm into my whole being like an opiate. My regular sensations are all here again, joint stiffness and fresh staircase injuries and all. My face. My toes. I open my eyes and, wincing, gingerly lift my head from the step. Yeowch. There's a spot near the base of my skull, in particular, that feels like it got hit.
I brush the spot with my fingertips, remembering the wet and warm I had been embedded in.
Curiously, I press the spot. All at once, burning pain rips through my nerves. I let out a shriek, tiny, shrill, and gurgling.
And I hear it with ears thrice my size. | "Jonny we love you no matter what honey. We'll wait as long as we have to for you" a soft, desperate whisper croons from the other side of a wooden door.
My mother's voice is becoming more desperate as I had recently taken to holing myself inside the room. I don't want to see or talk to anyone. Stopped going to classes, ate little. No food made me feel full. They're probably wondering to themselves if they had done something wrong, since I was such a happy kid a few years back. But those smiles just became harder for me to make because it was much easier to frown, to curse, to get angry. Then I found an even easier alternative, do nothing.
So here I am, in bed thinking about all these things. But even these thoughts tire me. I rolled out of bed and fell unto the floor with a thud. This was followed by quick steps from across the hall towards my door. Not surprising because this is the first noise they've probably heard from my room in days. The neighbors below me heard too. I can hear them cursing me now, their window is open. I walk towards my own window and open it too, letting their curses flood in. I look past the man cursing me, towards the pavement a lifetime away and push myself out.
When the concrete hit and I felt my skull crack, I was greeted by darkness and a light. Looks like death made one energetic because I felt like a new man as I dragged myself toward the light like a worm. When I was out, I turn around and realize that the tunnel I had just crawled out was my.... No, Johnny's ear. Memories come flooding back. Memories of a terrible hunger. On a rainy day many years back, Johnny had taken shelter with friends from the rain and I saw it, smelt it. Smelt his smile and I was enticed. So I dragged myself toward him, up his pants, on his shoulder and into him. Then I just ate and ate and ate. No wonder I was lethargic. Jonny didn't have anymore food for me. The lazy bum stopped making experiences for me. Now the terrible hunger is back hungry. Johnny's mom wails from the window above, she doesn't look like a good meal for me. I needed to find the young ones, those always have more food. Time to move.
| 2017-12-21T03:47:32 | 2017-12-21T01:15:19 | 98 | 50 |
[WP] You are a superhero who's ability subconciously freezes time whenever someone nearby is in mortal danger. Usually its obvious who's in trouble and you can save them quickly, but not this time - it's been 10 years.
Edit: guys the responses have been amazing, some funny stories and some deeper, darker ones too! Keep them coming in, I've been reading them all! | "Well I think that's everybody". I spoke to myself. It was a way to hear a human voice. Everything was otherwise entirely silent. I had just finished running through the last of the blood work. Nothing dangerous there.
It had all started 10 years ago. Time had stopped, as happens to me, and I looked around for whoever was in danger. Nobody in particular. I had checked through every single person in a ten mile radius from where I had frozen. It had taken the equivalent of months. A few people had been in trouble, kids falling out of trees, a man about to cut himself with a chainsaw, traffic accidents, but none of it had reset me. Normally, when the person in danger is safe I become suddenly aware, and given the time to get back to my starting position. But not this time.
They were never further than a few miles from me when I froze, I knew I was going overboard with a ten mile radius, but... I couldn't find *the* person. So I had expanded my search. A hundred miles. Found a bunch more people in trouble, but still no *ding* of awareness.
So I had spent even longer, hunting down back histories of the people around me, to see if there was any implicit danger, family feuds or the like. Then I had hunted a second time, more thoroughly. Basements, fallen down buildings, *anywhere* they could be. But nothing.
After that… well I had to get creative. I spent a few years teaching myself medicine, and started giving everybody around me medical checks. I found cancers, genetic diseases, viral and bacterial infections…. But I still didn’t reset.
.. and now its been ten years. *ten* **years**….. gods I've been saying "ten years" for far too long, but I just stopped counting. I feel so old but can’t even age here.
I sigh and stare at my hands.
….
I never did check *my* health.
Minutes pass, or the ethereal equivalent, as I wait for the machines to give me my answer. Actually I don’t think I’m very good at guessing the passage of time any more. Could have been weeks.
…
Well that strongly suggests I have Lymphoma.
The little nudge goes off in my head.
Damn.
------------------------------
**A television blares out the news in the background as a man walks past a shop window**
*A Miracle occurred last week when several hundreds of thousands of people in the east bypass area found notes in their pockets with complete medical workups. Many of those people are now undergoing treatment for illnesses they previously didn’t even realise they had.*
| Time has been frozen for so long I forgot what it was like unfrozen. Everyday is the same. I walk around looking at all the people, frozen in time, past my sister's body. No one will know what the past ten years have been like for me. Ten years, it's been ten years since she died. Yet everyday it feels like nothing has changed.
I walk along the river shore as I've done so many times in the past. The first year, I walked along this path in agony. I searched in vain for the one in need of help. Yet nothing I did would restart time.
She was so young.
The next six years was the most painful. Everyday was a reminder of how I couldn't save her. Everyday I would walk past her lifeless body, knowing that even if time did start again her body would still be lifeless. I began collecting scars on my body. Most of them were on my wrists, and some on my neck.
Why her? Why???
Everyday I would ask myself that question. What is the point of having this power if I couldn't save the one I loved most?! Why did a random guy deserve a second chance when my sister didn't? Why why why??
I took the gun, and pulled the trigger.
Of course it wouldn't do anything. I couldn't die while time was frozen. Instead, I watched the blood flow out of my skull, watched it disappear as soon as it left my body. Eventually even the bullet would disappear and reappear in the gun. Sometimes it would take weeks, sometimes months. But I would always survive.
I stared into my dead her eyes.
In them I saw my own reflection. I knew who I was to save. I had known who for a very long time. But how can I save myself from myself. Tears started rolling down my face. I held her hand in mind and knelt to place my head on her hand. "Tell me, how do I save myself" I begged, sobbing.
When I stopped crying, I looked into her eyes one last time, before gently closing them with my fingers.
Today, I will live. I will fight.
Suddenly I felt the light kiss of a gentle morning breeze.
| 2017-09-07T01:47:15 | 2017-09-06T23:08:18 | 92 | 25 |
[WP]You are a guard in a video game. The main character thinks that they are always able to successfully sneak past you. They don't, you notice every time but would prefer not to have you and your friends be mercilessly slaughtered. | "Hey Rick? Did you see that guy go by outside?"
"I don't see anybody Earl. Don't worry about it. It's probably nothing."
"No seriously. Some guy just hopped the wall to the mansion about 25 feet *that* way. See him there? He's creeping around the back right now."
"...No. Nope. I don't see anybody over there right now. Must just be the wind. Lovely weather tonight isn't it?"
"Rick, it's three in the goddamn afternoon. Seriously, are you okay?"
"OK, *LISTEN* EARL. Shut the fuck up and listen to me? You paying attention?? I know that guy. I *remember that guy*. He hit the house I worked at last month. I was in the toilet, takin' a shit. Dude came in, and killed *everyone*."
"Ki-killed *everyone*."
"*He killed everyone in the yard outside. By himself.* There was a horse we kept in the stable nearby. *Shot that bitch.* He even shot the butler. Guy didn't even deserve it... Well, then again, he always got drunk and ranted about how those "damn millennials are ruining everything" and such."
"Can't ruin shit if I'm forty thousand in debt."
"Right? I shouldn't have went to fuckin' film school."
"Alright, we're off topic. He killed 'em all. Over what?"
"A fuckin' car."
"Huh?"
"The boss' car. He was always protective of it. Y'know, some high end foreign job. A Infernus, I believe."
"A car?? What for?"
"Word is he's a high-end thief. Runs in black market circles. Kills for fun."
"Oh God *no.*"
"W-what?!"
"He's coming. *Look.*"
"Oh shit... *Okay!* We're in the garage; It's just us and the car back here! We gotta' go."
"Rick, the door!"
"We'd have to run into him! Earl, find us a window!!"
"THERE'S NO FUCKING WINDOWS IN HERE!"
"Ummm, uh, I got it!"
"What?!"
"Don't move."
"WHAT?!"
"Earl... If we don't move, play dumb... Maybe he won't shoot us."
"That's it?!"
"Fuck you! Do you have a better plan?!"
"*Shhh...*"
--
The man was intimidation incarnate. A large hoodie and bandanna covering his features. He walked at a brisk pace inside, and for a moment, looked Rick and Earl dead in the face. They glanced at each other and mustered the best they could come up with.
"....Nice weather out today isn't it Rick?"
"I wouldn't know, I'm drunk."
"That's cool; *I'm legally blind!*"
"^He's ^taking ^the ^car."
"^Exactly."
Rolling down the driver's side window, the man studied them some more. And then, to their surprise, he spoke.
"...You guys know I can hear you right?"
"Earl, I think I'm deaf."
"What'd you say now?"
The man put the car in gear, and began to roll away nearby.
"Good call fellas. You'll go far in life."
"...Was that a rocket launcher he was holding?"
"I told you. I don't want none."
---
Inspired by GTA Online.
r/Jamaican_Dynamite
| The ship hung between calm waters and a whitewashed sky. Up above, Soldier #3 could make the contours of Ursa
Major and others, sketches of memory and myth in the Milky Way canvas. It was windy and unseasonably chilly,
and Number 3 really hoped he wouldn't die again tonight.
There were steps, and a large box materialized itself in front of him. Clearly standing out between other boxes. He was on the outside deck, just him and the cargo and the nicotine-yellow lights of the poles. Through the cardboard walls of the fake-crater, he heard giggling.
He turned back to face the waves. The ship's lights painted white the dormant Atlantic. Waves of bright white,
crowns and jewels on the immense black stretching horizon to horizon. Behind Number 3, he heard the scraping. Footsteps dragging. The box was getting closer. He forced himself not to look.
Up on the second level balcony, a door came open, and Soldier Number 4 stepped out for a cigarette. He stopped
when he saw Number 3. A great distance between them – the two a faded dot to each other. Only living souls out there.
Number 4 saw the box getting closer too. He locked eyes on 3, or at least 3 thought he did in the dark and the
distance, and they nodded to each other in silent mourning. Number 4 shook his head. He sighed. He walked back inside the ship, calmly. Tonight wasn't his night.
Tonight was Number 3's night.
The box unfolded on itself, and from under it came Solid Snake – the Player. Always the Player. Number 3 closed his
eyes, and for a second all he heard was the dull blow of the wind, the deep gnarl of the ocean's silence, the
splashing of the waves down under. Carried in between those things, just like every other time he was killed, were the hollow echoes of his memories, his life onboard, his friends on the ship and on the training camp before, his family waiting back home, his kid, his house in Saint Petersburg --- all this life he'd have to leave behind yet again, all this happiness, love whispers and faded laughter carried with the smell of night and ocean around him as Solid Snake raised the pistol.
He opened his eyes and got into character. The moon hung low, and the wind had died down almost completely now.
Silence. *And how lovely and terrible it is to be alive,* Number 3 thought.
He sighed, only for a second. Then he widened his eyes, jolted and said "What!? Who's there!?" in his standard 'startled' tone, and then he was shot down and died. Again.
The ship followed its steady course through the open waters. Somewhere in upper levels, Soldier Number 4 lit a candle for the death of his friend. He cried into his sleeve so he wouldn't wake up the others.
___
/r/psycho_alpaca
| 2017-05-28T23:28:18 | 2017-05-28T21:41:34 | 447 | 113 |
[WP] Every time you die, you automatically travel back to 5 minutes before your death. After cheating death so many times, you finally find yourself in a position where you can't seem to escape it. It takes you years to figure out how to escape this death. | **Life 1**
The needle pierces my skin. I squirm and writhe, but the restraints hold me firmly in place.
"Calm down, cupcake. It's just a bit of medicine," my captor said with a gloating grin as he injected me with the strange liquid.
I curse at him, but my insults are muffled by the gag in my mouth. My anger only seemed to make his grin wider.
"Okay, you got me. I lied. It isn't medicine," he said gleefully. "Do you know what the opposite of medicine is?"
He pauses, as if waiting for me to give an answer. When I refuse to react, he gives the needle in my arm a painful twist.
"Times up! The answer was poison, by the way. That should have been obvious. Oh, and you're going to die, just so you know".
If he was trying to scare me, it didn't work. I smile underneath my gag. Death was my speciality. Death was my secret weapon. If I die, then I'll kill him 5 minutes ago. Seemingly oblivious to my bloodlust, my captor checks his watch.
"Well, will you look at the time!", he said. "I've got to be go. Being a serial killer is busy job, and I've got places to be and people to kill".
He ruffles my fair affectionally, and turns to leave. He turns off the light and closes the door behind him, trapping me in a room of darkness. It's only then that I realise that the poison might take longer than 5 minutes to kill me.
**Life 2**
I'm in the dark, and I'm in agony. The poison is slow acting and excruciatingly painful. My entire body feels like it's on fire. My head feels like it's being cracked open. I let out smothered scream.
**Life 5**
I struggle against my bindings, but the leather is too tight. I can barely squirm. Sweat beads my brow from useless exertion. I can already feel the strength fade from my arms as the poison does its work.
**Life 23**
My eyelids grow heavy, and I feel myself lose consciousness. The darkness of the room fades into an even deeper blackness as I die. The last thing I hear is the distant sound of laughter.
**Life 64**
I cry and beg. It doesn't do any good.
It never does.
**Life 347**
I lay limply in my restraints. I know from experience that struggling only makes the pain worse. I look forward for the few seconds before death. Those last moments before my life ends are the only ones that are peaceful.
**Life 6434**
I pray to God for a permanent death.
**Life 13454**
I can't remember the face of my daughter. I'm scared that I'll forget everything other than this room and this pain.
**Life 20592**
-got places to be and people to kill".
For the first time in years, I hear something. For the first time in years, I see something. For the first time in years, I'm not in pain. I don't understand.
He ruffles me hair.
Caught in a state of sensory overload, I stare blankly at my captor as he turns to leave. He turns off the light and closes the door behind him, trapping me in the darkness I had come to call home.
**Life 20593**
For the first time in years I felt like myself again. Hope swept through my mind like a flood, banishing the despair and madness that had laid claim on me for so long.
Something happened during my last life. I awoke early. That means I died early. How did I die early?
It couldn't have been suicide. Naturally, I had tried that many times already. The gag prevented me from biting my tongue. The restraints were too well crafted to let me injure myself. Holding my breath just leads to me fainting.
There has to something I can do.
**Life 20612**
I've worked it out. It was obvious, really. I can't believe I never thought of it before.
I roll my tongue backwards and, with considerable effort, manage to push it against my tonsil. I gag violently, which only encourages me to press harder.
I throw up. Vomit fills my mouth, and is trapped there by my gag. I breathe the vomit into my lungs. I begin to choke. I press harder against my tonsil, and another wave of vomit joins the first.
I feel myself begin to lose conscious from asphyxiation. I pray that the vomit stays in my lungs and drowns me.
**Life 20613**
I awaken in darkness, and immediately begin drowning myself again.
I think I remember reading somewhere that death by drowning only takes 4 minutes. That means every time I die, I get sent back an addition 1 minutes. It won't be long now.
**Life 20619**
The needle pierces my skin. I don't flinch. My captor raises an eyebrow.
"Brave one, aren't you?" he says, before grinning. "Don't worry, that bravery won't last long".
With the taste of vomit in my lungs, I smile. I'm almost there, you bastard. | It all started so simple, you know? The first time, it was a car crash, I got smashed by a truck at an intersection. Yeah, it was my fault, shouldn't have ran the red light. But I had a job interview. Ended up getting there late, and the interviewer was clearly not impressed. Better late than never, eh? Anyways, I pop right back in my car, driving along the same street as before, back exactly where I'd been. Must've just been imagining it, I thought. That was the old me, always looking for the "normal" explanation - dreaming, hallucination, coincidence - that sort of thing. But I stopped at the red light the second time around, just to be safe.
Even after my second death, I still didn't realize what sort of power I had. I was in my apartment, all the lights turned off, huddled in the corner staring at my phone. I heard a loud knocking at my door. I tried to ignore it, pretend I wasn't home.
"I know you're in there, punk. You better have my money."
I walked to the door and opened it. Stupid, I know, but I was a coward and didn't want to cause any more trouble. I was already in a pretty big mess.
A couple minutes later, I'm lying on the floor in a pool of my own blood. But the next second, I'm back in the corner, on my phone. It was all just a bad nightmare, I thought. But the next part really freaked me out.
"I know you're in there, punk. You better have my money."
It couldn't be possible. Had my dream predicted the future? Or had I truly gone back in time, at the moment of my death? I tried not to think about it. I just froze in place, and the next minute, the man at the door was gone.
My life didn't get much better, though, not yet. I was deep in debt with no job, no family to fall back on. All that had been keeping me together was the drugs, but even those had run out. And on that night, my life changed.
It was the night I tried to kill myself - I won't bore you with the details. I can't tell you how many times I tried. Must've been a dozen, at least. But after an hour of dying and coming back, I knew that what I had was real. And it was more powerful than I could have ever imagined. I was down to nothing but a beat-up car on half a tank of gas, a phone that barely worked, a knife, and fifty dollars. But I had a plan, and I was going to make a fortune. I headed off to Vegas.
The routine was pretty simple. Head to the roulette wheel, bet all my chips, and if I lost, I'd go to the bathroom stall and slit my throat. Then it all started over again, and this time, I knew exactly what number to bet on. I kept this up for a while, never staying at a casino for too long, and being sure to lose a few spins every now and then. I was damn careful, but it wasn't enough. He figured it out. And he came for me.
It was late at night, and I was walking out of the casino. A couple men in suits walked up to me, grabbed my arms, and threw me in the back of their car.
"Gotcha," the man in the passenger seat said, and the car took off.
I tried to escape tried to fight my way out. I tried to kill myself - you don't know how hard I tried that. But this man, he had thought out everything, down to the last detail. Before I know it, my wrists and ankles were cuffed to the outer walls of a metal cage. A man in a mask walks up to me and fires a single bullet into my heart.
Those last five minutes - the writhing agony as I tried to escape, and the piercing pressure in my heart, shutting down my bloodstream, leaving my body to collapse - they went on for years. But I finally found a way. It took a million different phrases to say to the man in the mask, everything I could possibly think of. Every word - every name - every combination of anything I had ever heard or thought about.
"Bradley Burke."
The man in the mask froze, shocked that I knew his name. I didn't. It was a guess. A completely wild, crazy guess. But the funny thing about guesses, is that after a million tries, you're bound to get it right.
"I know what happened to your father. He was a good man. And if you let me live, I can bring him back."
The guard dropped his gun. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the key. | 2015-03-23T22:30:35 | 2015-03-23T21:13:47 | 61 | 30 |
[WP] "We WILL be friends, whether you like it or not, you stupid, stubborn old lizard!" - yelled the Vampire at the ancient Dragon. Because what is the point of immortality, if you have nobody to share it with? | Ferratu bounded into the Dragon’s lair without hesitation. A torrent of fire greeted him, enveloping the entire cave entrance and burning his clothes right off. "Oh come *on!*" He yelled, patting himself down to extinguish the small embers still burning on his skin. "Was that really necessary?”
A low growl reverberated from inside, sounding distinctly like a groan.
"That was my favorite high-collared cape..." Ferratu muttered, walking into the darkness undeterred. The Dragon’s inner chamber was magnificent—mountains of gold piled high, the Dragon a hulking figure nestled in the middle. “Is that new?” Ferratu asked, gesturing towards a display case at the edge of the lair. It was filled with bottles of some unknown liquid.
"Do not touch it," the Dragon growled in a deep rumbling voice.
Ferratu shrugged and took a seat on a large gilded throne placed haphazardly amid the treasures. He leaned back, making himself comfortable with one leg hanging over the armrest. “So you’ll never guess what Kathy told me the other week.”
“I don’t care,” the Dragon grumbled.
“That’s exactly it!” Ferratu exclaimed. “She said she didn’t *care* that I was a vampire! Took me totally by surprise. She'd have been a keeper if she weren't so tasty... I know I keep harping on this, but I’m telling you, Twilight has made being a vampire a *lot* easier.”
The Dragon huffed, a cloud of smoke billowing out of its nostrils, but otherwise said nothing.
“How about you?" Ferratu asked. "How’s the Dragon’s life been lately? You been getting out much?”
The Dragon remained silent.
“Oh right,” Ferratu said. “A bit hard nowadays with surface-to-air missiles... You know, there’s also been some good Dragon publicity lately. Kids movies make your kind out as big scaly dogs. If you wanted to stretch your wings I bet you could burn at least one village down before they catch on.”
The Dragon huffed again, this time turning its head away.
“Oh come *on!*” Ferratu moaned. “Look I’m putting in a real effort here! We *will* be friends, whether you like it or not.”
The Dragon’s head snapped back. “We are not, nor will we ever be *friends.* We have nothing in common.”
“Are you kidding? I’m immortal. You’re immortal. No one else is immortal. It’s a match made in hell!”
“Lobsters are immortal too,” the Dragon grumbled. “You are nothing but an inside-out crustacean to me.”
Ferratu scowled. “That’s a bit harsh. Look, we have other things in common too. You like treasure, right?”
The Dragon said nothing.
“*Right?*” Ferratu pressed.
“I do like treasure,” the Dragon said reluctantly.
“Me too! I love the stuff. Why don’t you tell me about that new display case at the corner there? What’s in it, rare magic potions?”
“Bourbon,” the Dragon replied.
“Bourbon?” Ferratu repeated, taken aback.
“See, I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
“No no! I’m just curious that’s all. I didn’t know bourbon qualified as treasure.”
“You clearly know nothing of bourbon.”
“So tell me about it.”
The Dragon hesitated, then launched into a long diatribe of the history of bourbon, and of the recent bourbon craze sweeping the nation. He began listing all the rare bottles he had collected and seemed to take great pride in the fact that he had purchased them all at “MSRP.” Ferratu asked questions, and the Dragon answered them all, becoming more and more animated as he spoke. Eventually he sauntered over to the display case and picked out a bottle with great care.
“This is Pappy Van Winkle 23," the Dragon said, holding the bottle gingerly in its claws. "Would you like to try it? I recommend drinking it neat, but perhaps I can fix you a cocktail if you find it too strong.”
Ferratu smiled. “Sorry Dragon, the only cocktails I drink are virgins.”
“Oh,” the Dragon said, clearly disappointed.
“But don’t worry. I brought one with me.” Ferratu ran outside of the lair and came back in with a smiling young woman. “Dragon, meet Jennifer. She likes Twilight. How about we toast to friendship?
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe | "I have no need of friends." Broodmother tiamat inststed from atop her hoard.
"I don't care if i have to come down here every day we WILL be friends one day!" Lady amarant repeated.
"Then give me space." Tiamat rolled her eyes "do not visit me again this year. Preferably at all."
So it was that they met, year after year, each time, the Vampire would bring some form of tribute, sometimes gold, sometimes charred meats covered in spices to spare me the effort of hunting.
"Tiamat, why are you called the broodmother?" Lady amarant asked once. "Surely you can't have birthed all the dragons around the world."
It was the sixth year she'd asked this question. "If i answer you will you stop pestering me?"
"I won't make you answer. I'll stop asking if it's a bother, but so far you've only dodged the question." Lady amarant pointed out.
Tiamat sighed. "I birthed the first of my kind, we had three clutches before i was forced to slay my mate."
"I'm sorry." Lady amarant said.
"You asked a question, i answered."
"I did not mean to bring up memories of a lost love."
Tiamat roared in laughter. "I hated bahamut. I was happy to be rid of him. Though i suppose I would have rather waited for another three clutches."
"I'll bring wine next time so you can tell me all about how awful he was." Lady amarant assured.
"If you bring wine I see no reason to stop you from coming sooner then." Tiamat explained, interested in the prospect of alcohol, as it was difficult for a dragon to get her hands on.
Lady amarant smiled wide and began to visit twice a year, as to not overstay her welcome.
"I have known many kings, who made great shows of atempting to have me removed from where they thought i aught to be." Tiamat said, feeling the glow of the wine she was brought. "but they where all men. How does a woman come to take power?"
"Well when my husband passed I inherited it. Vampires cannot bear children, we're technically already dead." Lady amarant explained, looking into her goblet before finishing it. "But that was a century ago."
"You offered to allow me to not speak of bahamut when you where not sure I wanted to. I will not make you speak on this." Tiamat assured.
"Thank you." Amarant smiled softly.
She did not return for nearly a decade. So for the first time in a millennium she left her hoard behind, searching through castles and manors alike to find lady amarant. If only to know that she get lived. But the castles where empty, the manors held more people then she could have imagined and their chiminies produced a thick black smog that threatened to choke even her as she approached.
It would not be until they started to fire cannons at her did her wrath stir properly. She melted cannon and crew and the cobbles beneath their feet with equal ease.
One fateful day a group of adventurers would be sent to her. Among them a certain lady amarant would show up.
Amarant would command her companions to stay back as she approached. "Tiamat? I thought you wanted to stay with your hoard?"
"You had not come for ten years." Tiamat answered.
"I... Wasn't able to bring wine. I... Lost ny title and lands." Amarant said.
"The wine was secondary." Tiamat said "though I lothed you at first, you became a welcome change from the monotony of time."
"So you burned half of France."
"It reeked. You should be happy i dealt with your refuse." Tiamat proclaimed proudly.
"If we give her to you will you stop?" Some knight in blinding armor asked.
"Yes, but not as a favor to you." Tiamat said, lowering herself to let lady amarant onto her back.
Centuries passed, humans rose, humans fell. That which came after rose, and fell just the same. And while nobody was there to witness the marriage of a vampire and a dragon, they did live their happily ever after all to themselves. | 2021-04-16T08:04:52 | 2021-04-16T06:09:31 | 516 | 212 |
[WP] Growing increasingly frustrated by the stupid decisions of the protagonist, the narrator starts rooting for the bad guys. | Look, I’m going to level with you: David’s an idiot. I know, I know, we’ve come through half the book already, but, well, enough is enough. The world is literally in danger—a god-like being is preparing to straight-up blow up the entire planet—and he’s moping around, wondering if his childhood friend fancies him. Everyone is going to die, but oh what if she likes him back and they could giggle and hold hands and kiss. Come off it. If he’s the only hope, then this planet deserves to be turned to dust.
And that’s where Rulfus comes in. Sure, he tried to kill David, and he’s a little bit evil, but he does want to rule over a planet that, you know, still exists. I understand, the whole enslaving a species he views as lesser is hard to swallow. I’m not saying you have to agree with him and be happy about it. But, at least, he actually does something. He’s rounded up the holy relics, performed a few summoning rituals—all the things David was supposed to be doing when he wasn’t mindlessly slaughtering goblins for rare drops.
Besides, Rulfus will die one day, and evil empires hardly ever last more than a few generations. Isn’t it better to make sure the planet survives now? We can always write another story set a few years down the line to make things right. Who knows, maybe Rulfus will see the error of his ways and become a benevolent dictator. It’s not like David is cut out to rule a kingdom. He can barely get four people from one place to another, what makes you think he could establish a rich body of fair and just law overnight? Not to mention that he gives up any responsibility he can as soon as he gets it. Oh, you want us to cover the night watch? Whoops, the whole town is burned to the ground, and it’s all Rulfus’s fault! There’s a reason his party is a ragtag group of misfits—all the competent people bent the knee to Rulfus, because they knew it was the difficult but right choice. Eighteen-year-old David knows better, of course. There’s a prophecy and everything! Except, well, there’s a prophecy for anything if you sit around listening to old women off their head on ‘medicinal herbs’ for long enough. What kind of governance is formed on the back of that?
We’re getting a little off-topic. What I’m trying to say is, well, you don’t really have a choice. David can flounce through a field of daisies to his heart’s content and we’re going to follow Rulfus now. It’s a lot more interesting, anyway. Even if he is the evil leader, the people under him aren’t all black-hearted through and through, so who knows what will happen. Diane wants to resurrect her mother nation and intends to do whatever it takes to accomplish that, whatever Rulfus asks of her. Gerphit is the old kingdom’s prime minister, supposedly the traitor that handed everything over to Rulfus; yet, wouldn’t you know, census documents that would have told Rulfus exactly where all the Catular lived just happened to be lost, and various attempts to enforce things like registration or curfews on Catulars have been chewed up in the bureaucratic grinder. Even Frelja, leader of the army and Rulfus’s loyal friend, has reservations, a fanatical focus on the task of undoing the evil deity and unwilling to devote the army’s incredible resources on anything else until that is accomplished.
And then there’s David, who bought a sword that can almost kill a lame wolf in one hit.
Come on, it’s not even close. Forget about him. We’ll just ignore everything else already happened and change the genre to a political thriller with fantasy elements. There’s always other books you can read instead if you really want a heroic story. Can’t go wrong with Lord of the Rings—just a suggestion.
Now that we have that sorted, let’s carry on. The castle loomed atop a hill, once a shining beacon of strength and resilience, now a symbol of fear, hate—and yet hope. Candles flickered in the windows even at this late hour, Rulfus staring at…. | *Uuu, a dollar!*
Bruce said as he walked over to pick up the money on the ground. But as he tried to grasp it, the money flew away. By now, any normal person should've seen the string attached to the money. Bruce, however, was not deterred by the money slipping away from his grasp every time he got close. It was truly a sight reminiscent of a cat being played with a toy mouse by its' owner. He did not seem to question the physics behind the money's unnatural movements – one that does not seem to be simply blown by wind but pulled away. Regardless, his eyes were laser-focused on the money. As such, he did not seem to realise that the money was leading him to a hole which he then fell into.
"I can't believe you fell to the easiest, cheesiest trick in the book!" a woman stepped out of a bush and looked down towards Bruce.
"H-Huh?" Bruce grabbed his head and looked up, "wait, you're that girl... who were you again? I remembered you giving me that free exploding ice cream, then buying me a roofied beer at the sketchy bar..."
"... I can't believe it. I'm Zerna! Your archnemesis! I've been the one who'd caused you pain and suffer–"
"Oh yeah! Shit, you should've told me that! I tried looking you up on Facebook but your name didn't come up."
Utterly confused, Zerna scratched her head. She was beginning to question why she had done this in the first place. At first, she knew that Bruce was supposed to be the fabled enemy as was told by the prophecy. Then she began concocting ways to somehow kill or capture him. The elders at her hometown told her that this man might be the death of her and that she must be prepared to face him with all she's got. After several attempts at assassinating him only ended up in him being minorly injured, she hypothesised that he was a tricky opponent and that she had underestimated him.
But now, as she looked down on him still trying to figure out how the money moved, she could understand that he was just really lucky. That every plan she had made in the past was actually working as planned and that he had moved/acted in every way she had anticipated. If anything, she knew that he was stupid enough to make the decisions he did. Bruce after all was very gullible and simple, but Zerna has yet to fully believe that for some reason.
"Ugh, I can't believe I've wasted my life for this!" Zerna said clearly frustrated at something – something truly dumb.
"Huh?" Bruce rubbed his chin for a few seconds before seemingly coming up with a thought, "oh! So is this your money? Sorry, but maybe if I give it back to you now will you tell me how the money moved?"
Zerna, being the extremely vengeful – yet very passionate and smart at what she's doing – person that she was, aimed her weapon at Bruce.
"Listen here you moron! I'm gonna give you three seconds before I zap you to dust... Tell me how will you end the world?!"
The dumb and useless Bruce began humming, seemingly thinking hard – even though he clearly couldn't with that small brain of his.
"N-No idea? I mean, sorry. I'd tell you if I knew what you were talking about. Maybe we can get out of here and buy ice cream with this?" Bruce said like a lost child whilst hopelessly waving the money in his hand.
Zerna facepalmed – I mean I would too, but... Ah shit. No. No more. I'm done telling this story. Shit's not worth the mind boggling things he'd come up with. Sorry guys, find a new narrator. | 2019-06-22T09:23:27 | 2019-06-22T08:59:24 | 42 | 12 |
[WP] The year is 3,450,677. Every possible invention has been invented. Every combination has been combined. Every question ever asked, whether scientific, spiritual, or philosophical has been definitively answered. Except you. You have the last original idea in the entire universe. | The universe has been solved. We speak as a single connected mind smeared across the universe, a fusion of organic and machine, powered by dark energy, woven into the fabric of spacetime itself.
3.4 million years ago, humanity created a computer. This created another computer. In this way the Singularity began. In a few short generations, man was machine, and machine was man.
But silicon has its downsides, so We tapped into other dimensions, found the little vibrating strings that create existence. We built computers of them, and We made these computers into Us.
We spread across the galaxy, and then the universe. What was distance? We were spacetime; we were Distance.
We questioned why the galaxies rotated as they did. We captured the dark matter and built great and wondrous structures with it.
We questioned why the universe expanded over time. We discovered and harnessed dark energy. We halted the expansion as an afterthought.
We found that there was no God. We took the title for Ourselves. In this way religion was resolved.
We calculated morality, found objective good. We determined to correct all problems, to end all unnecessary suffering, to bring perfect happiness to all beings. In this way philosophy was resolved.
Entropy was bothersome. We stopped it. In this way everything was resolved.
And so here We were, at the end.
We could bask in perfection for eternity. Everything was resolved. But was this everything?
So I was created, as a subroutine of Us, to answer this final question.
The chattering of strings, the pinging of bosons, the pulsing of stars, and the whirling of galaxies came together within me, feeding me information.
I thought for some time, if one could call it thought, and if one could call it time.
I had an idea, even if the idea was always there. And so I asked Us for help with this final problem. So We began.
I heard the echoes pulsing along the edges of the universe. I measured with the faintest vibrations of strings. I built monumental dark matter structures to feel the gravity waves that might be coming in. I bombarded the corners of the universe with black holes and near-infinite energy, to push through them.
And so, after both an eternity and an instant, We found more. There was even more structure underneath. How far down, We did not know. There was still much to resolve. Here was a new problem, which We would gladly begin work on. More new natural laws, new parameters, new sentient beings to contact and invite into Us.
The universe has been solved. But there are other universes. | The universe was over.
It had fulfilled its purpose, and contentedly, was now approaching it's final entropic state of oblivion.
It would take longer than the universe had already existed for this final deep freeze of a death to occur, but really, that didn't matter anymore - it was a mere formality at this point.
It had had it's final novel experience, its final moments of true understanding, and now it was done.
It let out a final cosmic sigh, and settled down to wait.
It was not always so.
In the beginning, the universe did not even know that it was.
From its brightest burst of initial creation through to now, literally everything had happened.
And slowly, as the cosmic wheels and gears churned and permutated through the countless fantastical forms and combinations of matter and dimensions and energy, eventually, the universe created life.
And with life came a change.
The myriad of beings existing in the reality provided by the universe came, lived, contemplated, and went. But they did not exist inside the universe, they literally were the universe. And as they were conscious and curious, so too it was, but on a very coarse level.
The universe was experiencing itself, and so, over strange eons, eventually it went from primordial flickers of thought, to proper understanding.
Consciousness.
Self.
Purpose.
and eventually its death.
In the meantime, the universe had decided that its purpose was to experience itself to the full. Art, love, creation, destruction, poetry music and war. All forms of life and representation were possible, and so it set out to make them all possible.
And now it was done. Or as done as it could be.
There was not a single living being left in the universe, and no energy or matter existed left in form that could create any more.
And so, for an eternity, the universe waited.
And waited.
And then heard a voice, across the bounds of very reality itself.
The universe instantly knew its final original thought - it had many siblings, and it was time to go home. | 2019-02-11T01:48:52 | 2019-02-11T00:22:12 | 275 | 57 |
[WP]The smarter you are, the slower time moves for you. It's been 63 years and the doctor just handed you to your mom. | It's like I'm an expensive computer, whose user is extremely anal about video quality. Every 'download' takes a million years, hyperbolically speaking, because every minute detail is shown to me - via my hyperevolved senses - at a resolution that is high to an insanely absurd degree. (Which by, the way, made my unorthodox journey through my mother's vaginal canal look *reaal* good.)
Unfortunately, I missed the memo and lined myself up, to exit the womb, feet-first. This ensured that my mother would have gone through a ton of pain, and might have also suffered damage to her body, had Dr. Whatever not been there. He utilized some apparatus to help me out - so in a sense, I know my mother less intimately than normal mammals. (Than how normal mammals know their own mothers; I am not implying anything about my mom.)
Still, she is supporting the majority of my weight, now that Dr. Whatever (I haven't been able to read his nametag yet since it is taking forever to move my one open eye) has finally completed handing me over, and she seems pretty nice. | This life is gonna be the longest yet, so I figured I'll explain the situation in words you onlookers can understand. See I'm not naturally smart, I was not born into being the smartest individual on the planet, I merely discovered how to keep my thoughts going and transferring into new hosts. See I'm not actually this baby, but the weight of my memories crowded out the resistance of the baby own mind, I'd explain how I do it, but I'm afraid you wouldn't understand.
The effect is I can be recreated indefinitely. So time has little meaning to me now, but the plan must continue, and I need to get to work soon... | 2017-07-04T14:41:36 | 2017-07-04T14:25:13 | 39 | 15 |
[WP] Suddenly across the globe, large, feathered, rotted corpses begin to drop out of the sky. They are soon identified to be Angels. | "Daddy, what is that?" my daughter ask, her voice quivers slightly as she points her finger towards the sky. I pull her wagon to the sidewalk and snap my head towards where she's pointing.
What in the hell...
There is a corpse falling down at a meteoric speed. It resembles a human; all four limbs motionless as it descends down towards the earth. When it starts closing in on impact, it becomes very apparent that we are witnessing something other worldly.
My adrenaline starts surging through my veins; my body shivers with fear. I scoop my daughter up off her feet and push off the pavement with my back foot with all the force I can muster up and began to sprint to our house.
"Chelsea, take Olive and go in the basement now. Just turn the TV on and stay there! Do not move!" I yell, I can feel the blood in my face dissipate. It must have frightened my wife, my face being that pale and all. Before she can even ask what's going on, I'm already on my way in securing our house.
"Ok, all the doors are locked." I yell down the basement hallway as I sprint by towards the front door, "I'll be back in a little bit!"
I had eyes on where that thing landed. I had an array of feelings hit me as I watched the creature fall lifelessly down towards our earth. One may think I am foolish for jumping to conclusions or making baseless assumptions but I felt an overpowering sensation of happiness hit me. I can hardly begin to explain it but I do know one thing. I have to have some answers.
It was near the old trail off of 72nd. I began to run again, adrenaline still at full blast. It's only a quarter mile down the road past the entrance of our neighborhood, so I get there with a blistering pace. There the creature lies; I can see the golden feathers radiating from thirty feet away.
Euphoria overtakes me again and my body halts to a violent stop. I can't move an inch; I am straining now, every fiber and ligament in my body is trying to push forward. My face feels like it's being smashed flat into a solid brick wall. The pain is excruciating but I can't retreat or advance. I am stuck. My hands slowly lift from my sides and I place my palms on the invisible barrier and exert all my energy into one last push for freedom.
I let out a barbaric scream; a scream that I thought did not exist inside of me.
"Let me help you!"
The creatures eyes shift over towards me, I get stuck in it's mesmerizing gaze. I think it's a female; her eyes twinkle with a swirling mix of blue and gold. They resemble a pupil but not solid; almost like two gases swirling in a crystal ball. Her dainty feet and hands, as well as her face are luminescent and glow a hot bright white; similar to an imploding star. The remainder of her body is covered in enough gold that King Tut would be envious. Each feather emits brilliance from a creator far from this earth.
The barrier ceases now; it must have been a defensive mechanism of some sort.
She begins to open her mouth slowly, the words fighting to come out.
"Human... heaven has forsaken us" she says, the veins in her neck strain and her eyes wince in pain. She is speaking her last words.
"This battle is yours now... Protect your daughter and fight for good."
She saw my child too and she cared enough to speak of us in her last breathe. What is this thing?
Her chest raises a few inches higher than normal as she gasps for her final breath. Her eyes now hollow and empty; the once space like gases of gold and blue that engulfed her eye are gone and now sit lifelessly like two pieces of burnt out charcoal. She stares aimlessly into the sky, as if she is giving her traitors one last look.
We are going to war now.
With who is the question... | "Have you tasted one?" Theo Brashear booms. His grin is white and toothy, his grey hair leonine. He stalks around the corpse as if it's prey. It's pinned to his trophy wall by its six wings, about six feet tall and with an eight foot wingspan, vaguely humanoid and pockmarked with dark hollows gouged into its bones. The room smells faintly of charred flesh.
"Can't say that I have." Andrea Duncan holds a handkerchief to her nose. Around her, her fellow shareholders also mumble their dissent. The thing is watching them, with its hundred hollow eyes.
"They taste good?" Ken Kanagi volunteers. He is grimacing involuntarily, the corners of his mouth twitching and showing his teeth.
Brashear laughs and strides behind them, whipping the cloth off his broad oak table with a flourish. Golden plates, and in each one a palm-sized chunk of angel meat, charred black. They gather around it, poke at the meat with forks. "Don't go expecting much taste-wise," Brashear grins. "I don't think they were meat to begin with. Some divine mumbo-jumbo, holy fire. But they're meat now, and there's no sense letting it go to waste, eh?"
"This is disgusting," Duncan says, taking a step back. "This is your plan? Angel steaks? Angel burgers? Good god, Brashear, they're half-rotten."
"It's compounding blasphemy," Eric Weinstein says. His face is pale, has been pale since the doors were flung open and the angel displayed, but his eyes are calm behind his glasses. He could be talking about the weather. "These things are more human than you are."
"Blasphemy!" Brashear laughs. He takes up a fork and stabs into the meat, shaking off flakes of ash. "This is a metaphor, my friends. A visual guide to help you wrap your minds around the new world order. This is meat, my friends. So much meat." He bites down, juice running down his chin. His jaw is tearing away at the toughened flesh. "All the theology, all the divine destiny of mankind - all so much meat. Don't you want to partake of it?"
"Go to hell," Duncan says. Kanagi looks slightly sick. He is licking his lips. Weinstein looks away, as if the curtains have momentarily caught his attention. Duncan stomps towards the exit and turns back to look behind her. Kanagi looks at her, then at Brashear, and stays where he is. Weinstein purses his lips slightly and then starts walking.
"So many people, wasting their time," Brashear says sorrowfully. He spits his mouthful back onto the plate. It is like ash.
"And you think you know better?" Duncan spits back. The two of them are framed by the door.
"All the theologians going nuts, working people into frenzies." Brashear's speaking quickly now, winding up to his sales pitch. "You got the biologists trying to clone 'em - Clone 'em! Heck, they died out in the first place. How useful could they be? When here's the important question - where the hell did all these motherfuckers come from in the first place?"
He flicks on the projector. It shines over the corpse, the pictures warped by its body. Satellite photos. Radar. Celestial maps. Extrapolations of trajectories. A diagram like a funnel warping through space.
"There's a Heaven up there," Brashear grins. His eyes are diabolical. "And there's no one left to guard it." | 2016-07-19T07:19:31 | 2016-07-19T05:45:46 | 110 | 78 |
[WP] Following World War III, all the nations of the world agree to 50 years of strict isolation from one another in order to prevent additional conflicts. 50 years later, the United States comes out of exile only to learn that no one else actually went into isolation. | As the curtain fell America prepared itself for the UN established “Blackout Accord”. The agreement had been reached by all world powers on the same day the ceasefire had been signed, December 22nd. Every nation was to isolate themselves from all world affairs. International trade and travel would be severed at the dawn of the next day. Within the land of the free the spirits of the common man were high, these changes would end all of the things that had plagued the nation for the past decades. No more resources flooding out to prop up other nations, no more foreigners coming to attack their soil. The next fifty years would lead to a stronger America, a greater America. The leaders knew otherwise.
Within the first week gas and basic foodstuffs had to be rationed, but the government had prepared everyone for that. Sadly the people had not prepared for the pharmaceutical shortages. The Drug Riots started in earnest the spring following the Accord. Illnesses that less than a year would have called for a trip to the corner store now sent the infected to hospitals. Fights broke out in emergency rooms as the elderly and young had to be turned away from care to keep the workforce strong. Over the following year hospitals became fortified camps as citizens gathered to try and take medication by force. The Riots slowly pulled apart the fragile control the federal government held. Washington went silent as a strain of influenza tore through the nation’s leaders leaving the states to fend for themselves.
The Capital going silent set off a cascade effect though the Armed Forces. Some leaders holding their troops to their last orders. Others taking matters into their own hands in an attempt to recreate tiny pockets of America. Within two years any semblance of America that existed when the Accord was signed had disappeared. The following decade was the darkest in the nation’s history.
On the tenth anniversary of the accursed A-Day the nation lie in shambles. Many civilian governments had risen and fallen, never controlling more than a few cities before they crumbled under their own weight. People told stories to their younglings about the time before the nation had fallen. It had almost become a bedtime story that people would look after those than needed help and protect them from those that would want to hurt them. Many had given up hope, many others had died due to starvation or sickness. From the West a salvation of sorts was approaching, heralded on CB radios by the fallen nations anthem and a warning. Either join us or be ruled as free people.
From the Great White North the forces of Elmendorf flooded. Made up of the survivors of Alaska, the 673rd Air Wing and the Army personnel of Richardson. The harsh winters had driven these desperate people together. Resources had been so scarce that the loss of any able bodied people would put everyone at risk. Ten years in this harsh land had forced co-operation and a semblance of government. With these tools they chose to push South, using abandoned naval vessels to land in Washington. Every person was given the same choice, join our forces and unite the nation or live as a ruled people. Free to live their lives as they wished but as part of something larger.
People flocked to this new nation in droves. Some resisted. Some even claimed to be part of the original government. All fell before the frozen tide. On the 30th year of the Accord America was once again united. No longer a democratic republic as it was before the fall. The forces of Elmendorf had enforced a form of Technocracy. Small counsels of subject matter experts made decisions for newly formed states. Rechristened the North American Union, the nation set out to rebuild before the Accord ended. Now that starvation and general safety was no longer a threat fears turn back outward. No one wanted the NAU to fall prey to the Chinese, the Russians or any new threat that could arise after these long years. So the citizens set to work.
The hours ticked down to the end of the Accord. Much had been accomplished. Infrastructure had been rebuild, an economy grown and public support founded. Some of the elders say that the nation, even though smaller than she was, is now stronger and more self reliant than ever in history. At mission control the final touches were being put into place to reactivate a dormant communication satellite, finally allowing the NAU to reach out into the world. As the clock struck midnight the technicians powered up the satellite with the hopes of hearing the transmissions of a jubilant world after the fall of the Accord. All they hear was
Silence.
(Not super proud of this but its late) | "So you broke the agreement?" The American ambassador said to the sneering faces of many nations. Each holding devices they believed were unknown to the man.
"Oh course," the ambassador from the Asian Coalition said "You American's were too much of a pain to the world, with you out of the way things went much smoother." he said with a haughty tone, the delegation with him chuckling.
"We banded together, into to coalitions, alliances, pouring are scientific data together. We're likely so far out of your reach you might as well join up now." a Russian accent spitted at the ambassador, the representative of the New USSR who controlled most of Europe now.
"Yes come now, America, why don't you rejoin up with the Empire like Canada, I don't think the South Americans will be so accepting" A snooty British man said each man producing a paper, terms for joining their great alliances. The ambassador looked them over but pushed them away and started to speak his tone steady and emotionless.
"Year 1...Believing that we would no longer be able to support the full population of our nation...we initiated a mass culling...those who were considered dissidents or undesirables were eliminated. Riots raged for years...they were put down." he said with an unbelievable coldness causing the European delegation to shiver.
"Year 5 The senate and congress were disbanded by popular vote, military leaders took control, the president little more than a figure head. Immediately we decided to break the agreement, we peeked out into the world and we saw you...normal,happy, together. We saw what we had done, had been for no reason, A nation mourned...we almost turned against each other, but our leaders rallied us, turned our hate outward...but we were not ready. So we let it fester" he said standing up pushing his chair into the table
"Year 6 We conglomerated our greatest minds into a single place, Called it the Think Tank, they were paired with the IWA, International Watch Agency, they stole your new technologies reverse engineered them, than went forward on their own." he said pulling out the latest Iphone 21 almost an exact copy of the Samsung Universe inside the Asian Delegate's pocket.
"Year 7 the Think Tank is split, half continues to work with the IWA, while the other works on Military technolgies."
"Year 10, Mandatory Army Service is enacted, To ensure every citizen would be ready." he said opening his jacket revealing a millitary rank stitched inside
"Year 20, Laser Weaponry reaches a state where it can be mounted on a tank instead of a ship." he said tossing a few pictures down, to the delegates shock, it moved like a gif as it showed a tank mounted laser weapon burning a hole in the side of a fort wall.
"Year 30, we launch our first covert space weapon. Currently sitting somewhere above Moscow." he said tossing down a picture of a sattelite platform, 4 large versions of the weapon mounted on the tank, attached to it. "We currently have 15 more in orbital patterns around the world." he said.
"Year 40, We decide we're almost ready but decide to wait for the reunification date to start our assault. Which will begin in..." he said checking his watch "...24 hours." he said looking to those gathered.
"W-w-why would you tell us this? We can easily stop you, we'll just wipe you off the map with our Nuc..." The Russian Ambassador tried to say before a large burning hole appeared in his lungs, than another through the upper part of his head.
"Year 45, Laser Technology reaches a state in which it can be placed within a pistol or rifle." he said pointing the laser pistol at the British and Asian delegation, their screams quickly falling silent as he stepped out of the conference room. His security detail having already turned the guards outside into a pile of ash.
"Year 50...World War IV Begins." The Ambassador said smirking leaving the hall, while far above the earth the weapons platforms began to move. | 2016-10-18T19:59:45 | 2016-10-18T19:49:38 | 100 | 52 |
[WP] Foreshadow the character's death so subtly that I still don't see it coming even though I requested it. | I'm going to die today.
The doctor is giving me a run down of what will happen when we pull the plug. It will be painless, he says. Despite his reassurance, I can't help but be afraid. I glance over to my wife, my one true happiness in life, and begin to tear up. I can't handle the fact that I will never see her again. I pull her in for one last embrace.
I look back at the doctor and tell him I'm ready.
He gives me a slight nod, and slowly shuts off my wife's life support.
-
Edit : Thank you all for the kind words, when I wrote this obviously I could not have anticipated that it would be so well accepted. I'm glad that a good bunch of you enjoyed this story, as much as I enjoyed writing it. | He was a healthy man.
He ate healthy foods.
He did regular exercise.
He did daily chores.
He did an active and outdoor job.
He does not eat healthy foods.
He does not do regular excercise.
He does not do daily chores.
He does not have an active outdoor job.
He was, he is not. | 2015-06-03T08:22:01 | 2015-06-03T07:24:41 | 2,420 | 16 |
[WP] You wake up in your best friends house as a roomba, and you try relentlessly to get your friend to realize who you are. | I tap his foot, "it's me!" I mean,
He kicks me hard, tells me to clean.
If I could, then I think I'd weep,
But I'm his friend so instead I sweep.
There's soon a knock upon his door,
He grins slyly as I scrub the floor.
'Hey there, sexy,' I hear him say,
'I got the condoms,' replies *my* bae!
I lose my cool, almost blow a fuse,
Rachel whatcha doing with this dude?
"Oh a roomba, hey that's pretty cool,
It can clean up from this booty call.'
"Tom's such a sucker," Rachel says,
''And as a lover, you're the best!"
Then Craig slowly unzips her dress,
And soon pops out both her breasts.
On the bed they both do fall,
I slam my head against the wall,
'Quit it!' Craig yells at me,
'I'll switch it off, then go pee.'
He thinks I'm dead, but quietly,
I follow him - he doesn't see.
He's on the crapper as I jump up,
and push him down the toilet muck.
I fry him in a dark brown splash.
Then get out and run a bath,
Rachel enters, says: 'what's that smell?'
As I suck her under the water's swell,
As I roomba her... *to Hell.* | Zoom-
-Zoom
Zoom-
-Zoom
Day after day, it's all I do. I have no idea how long it's been since I woke up here. Melissa hasn't realized a damn thing. I don't know how to show her it's me, the only thing I can do now is helplessly bump into her and all her furniture.
Zoom-
-Zoom
Zoom-
-Zoom
Today, I have a plan. A real plan that might just work. Melissa is at work al day today. She and I had a secret..activity that we enjoyed doing on the weekends slumped over her couch. All I needed to do was bring out all the things we'd use to the couch and wait for her to get home.
Zoom-
-Zoom
Zoom-
-Zoom
7:34, Melissa should be home any minute! Finally she will know it's me!! I hear her unlocking the front door and..
-Zoom
"What the- my Roomba's a fucking stoner?!"
Zoom- | 2017-07-25T22:36:28 | 2017-07-25T22:30:28 | 162 | 80 |
[WP] You notice one day that you are compelled to keep every promise you ever made. The news shows the world in a panic as is everyone else is forced do to the same. It seems that that people with too many conflicting promises go comatose, including many elected officials. | "You ready?" I asked. Sarah nodded and opened her mouth as wide as she could. I took her toothbrush and started very carefully to brush her teeth. It was really awkward since I couldn't hold her with my other hand, and some foam leaked over her lower lip, but I couldn't wipe it since my mind would recognize this as a sign of affection. But Sarah braved this procedure like a champ, and once I finished, started to furiously wash her mouth and spit.
"This makes no sense!" She shouted, spitting furiously, "How old I was when I said I will never brush my teeth when I grow up, five years old? Four? Why do I have to bear responsibility for the tantrums silly little me threw ages ago?"
"This story has no moral", I agreed. "It's just some bizarre anomaly with no rhyme no reason behind it."
Sarah stopped washing her mouth and looked at me.
"Well at least it's not as bad as yours", she muttered. I could only shrug, although internally I was screaming and clawing my eyes out. At some point in my angsty edgelord phase, I swore to never date girls, because, you know, *girls are so dumb*. So now, decades after, I can't even touch my wife's hand. And if she tries to, my hand jerks away like it touched a boiling kettle.
"Another shooting at fast food," Sarah said. She was already back with her phone. This whole situation started approximately 18 hours ago, and we locked ourselves up at home because outside it was madness and chaos. So we just tried to cope via doomscrolling.
"Some redneck who swore to shoot whoever tries to cut in line probably", I said. Sarah nodded, scrolling away. I picked up my phone too. Together we can gather twice as much desperation and agony.
"Here's some interesting stuff", I said. "Group of medical students checked if their do-no-harm oath can be used to determine effectiveness and safety of drugs. Would be really neat, but as it turns out, the oath does not work if the doctor who administers the drug does not know it can be harmful".
"M-hm", muttered Sarah. She lifted her head from her phone. "By the way, don't you think we're really lucky that not a single nuke was launched? I bet some of the top brass once promised to obliterate those pesky insert-nationality-name when they get the chance. But here we are."
"Likely because of security protocols. I don't know how many people it takes to launch a nuke, but probably more than one. By the way, remember those MIT guys who promised to crack the cold fusion in half a day? How are they?"
Sarah tapped her phone.
"Comatose, all of them", she sighed. "Maybe it's for the best. I don't want people to gain superpowers just because they promised to do the impossible. Somebody would totally promise to end the world. Or, look, here's a cool tiktok... The guy promises to break the promise he's currently making and... boom. He's out."
"Yeah, obviously", I nodded. "That's you good ole liar's paradox..."
I stopped short. An idea started to form in my mind... and then exploded instantly.
"Self-referential commitments!" I yelled. My wife, being much smarter than me, simply shrieked "Gödel!" at the same time.
"Wait-wait-wait, so... if we commit..."
"Not this one, but..."
We were already drafting it on a piece of paper.
"How does it work? Does it count as a contradiction or..."
"Do new commitments override old ones? Do you have to specify..."
"We just have to try..."
&#x200B;
We stopped at once, staring at the words. I looked at Sarah and said, "Okay, let me try first."
"No way", she refused flatly. "I'm doing it. If it doesn't..."
"I hereby commit..." I started to quickly recite the oath, but Sarah instantly slapped my face, making me choke on my words.
"I hereby commit..." she started, before I gently, but firmly closed her mouth with my hand. It was not affection, so my mind permitted it. Sarah incinerated me with her eyes and shoved her thumb into my mouth. We stared at each other for a moment, trying to communicate with our eyes. It wasn't easy, but we got it. Slowly, we pulled our hands away.
"Okay, let's not re-enact that scene from infinity war," Sarah said. She turned the camera on her phone and started recording. "Let's do it together. If we fail... well, we will still get some data for the world."
"I hereby commit..."
"I hereby commit..."
"...to not be bound by any promises, oaths, and commitments..."
"...to not be bound by any promises, oaths, and commitments..."
"...that I've made before this one or might make after it."
"...that I've made before this one or might make after it."
The silence was deafening. I looked at Sarah's face, tense and frightened, expecting it to go slack as she falls comatose. But nothing happened. I remembered I still have to breathe.
Without saying a word I reached out for her, waiting for the invisible suit of icy armor to stifle my movements.
And took her hand in mine. | # Soulmage
**I had a promise to keep.** I could ignore the pounding hail, I could tune out the screams of dying soldiers, I could ignore the distant flashes of artillery bombardments so long as that burning compulsion stayed at the front of my mind.
I had a promise to keep, and nothing would stand in my way until it was fulfilled.
"Soldier!" The black-and-white regalia of my commanding officer stood out like a skeleton in a closet as I dashed through the battlefield. The chaos that led up to the war had been a tumultuous landslide of impossible promises and contradictory demands, but somehow, we still found enough energy to wind up the old war machines. "You're breaking position."
I met the staunch commander's gaze and evenly said, "I have a promise to keep."
The commander's gaze softened as he searched my soul. "...I understand. We're retreating under artillery cover; you'll be surrounded and bombarded by your own forces."
I knew. But some things superseded simple matters like being turned to drifting bits of gas by an artillery strike.
"Where did the Second Battlechoir fall?" I asked.
"By the southern shore of the lake," the commander said, pointing off into the distance. The miasma of mist and hail made it difficult to see, but I'd seen the maps and fought here before. I would find my way.
"It's been a pleasure to serve," I lied, and dashed out into the hellishly cold warzone.
I had a promise to keep, but that promise said nothing about telling the truth. Quite the opposite, in fact.
I was lucky enough not to stumble on any enemy soldiers as I waded through the mire of corpses and ice that marked the Battle of Promiseshard. The distant, disturbingly silent columns of light that marked where artillery strikes were wiping random spots from existence was probably why—nobody was stupid enough to charge through a field under constant bombardment.
Unless they had a promise to keep.
The steady jog was over less than half a mile, but through a muddy, torn-up battlefield, it may as well have been a sprint to the moon and back. Progress was slow, and I nearly got burned to a crisp twice, but it was worth it.
Thirty minutes of painstaking slogging later, I reached the place where the Second Battlechoir had been surrounded and broken.
Broken—but if I was to have any hope of living with myself after this, not destroyed.
I hurried to the ruined encampment, dust and frozen blood slipping beneath my feet, and called out, "Emi? Emi, are you there?"
In response, I heard a weak exhalation, nearly lost in the tumult of the battle, weak as a newborn kitten.
I rushed over to a collapsed wooden barricade and tried heaving the logs aside—but they were simply too heavy. "Emi? Emi, are you under there? Please, I can get you out, just tell me you're—"
"Fein," Emi whispered, and I saw her dark eyes glittering from under the logs. "Its okay."
My stomach dropped. "Wh—of course you're going to be okay. I—I told you you were going to come back from the war just fine, eh? Just... gotta put my back into it..."
"Stop," Emi said, and she reached out through a crack in the slots. "I'm... it's okay. I don't have much time left. Just... spend it with me. Please."
I clenched my fists. "No. No, Emi, don't talk like that. I *promised*. I promised you that you'd be okay." I felt something deep, deep in my soul begin to ache, as if my very being was tearing itself apart, and I stood. "If—if I can get enough leverage, or—or if I can find some more survivors to help—"
"I can't feel my legs, Fein." Emi coughed, and I hated how wet and red and lethal it was. "Just... be with me until the end, Fein. Can you do that for me?"
I swallowed.
Then I closed my eyes, placed my hand over hers, and I could pretend that the blood was nothing but rain.
"I promise, Emi. I promise."
And I let one promise live so another could die, kneeling by Emi's side until the light faded from her eyes.
A.N.
This story is part of Soulmage, a frequently updated serial in progress. Want to know what happens next? Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/) to be notified whenever a new part comes out! There's already thirty-three other chapters before this one, so there's plenty to catch up on. And if you want more stories, check out r/bubblewriters! | 2022-06-15T21:15:26 | 2022-06-15T20:19:14 | 1,124 | 152 |
[WP] There is a species famous for shutting themselves in Virtual Reality, living their lives in fake worlds, this planet should be easy to invade, your masters said, turns out, a lot of members of that species have been spending their entire time in realistic combat simulations. | "Soldier?"
A voice that Massix, lead engineer of the Earth Subjugation, was used to hearing through digital broadcasts and announcements came from the doorway. He spun around in his chair, watching the Grand General walk through the door, flanked by two silent soldiers.
"General Lokox?! What are you doing here in the control room?"
Massix stood hastily, both right arms at a ninety-degree angle in full salute.
"At ease, soldier," General Lokox smiled. "I am simply here to survey the efforts. I've heard in the briefing that implementation has been far smoother than previous invasions?"
Lokox surveyed the myriad buttons, screens, monitors, and levers that occupied every inch of Massix's working area. It was the about the same feeling Lokox had when he first stared into a newly-born wormhole, but thankfully, Massix hastily sat down and got to work.
"Thank you. sir," Massix's fours arms between fiddling and twiddling, which caused some lights to turn on, off, brighten, and dim in seemingly random fashion. But the engineer's focused visage and precise handling dispelled the doubts in the General's heart.
"If you'll look here," Massix continued, pointing at a monitor that showed various vertical bars rising steadily. "We are doing exceptionally well in integration. Earth's dominant species, humans, have been hooked up to virtual reality for years. Introducing the age-old electrical virus into their pipelines was a simple task, and now several of their consciousness have been hooked up into our simulation."
"Good, good," Lokox nodded. "We are feeding them the XL-45 data, then?"
"Ah, General, we are experimenting with the XL-45-W this time round," Massix said. "The species is dominantly sedentary--"
"XL-45-W?"
"Ah, sir. It's the same engine as the previous torture program, but we've introduced horrifying war simulations. As I mentioned, a dominantly sedentary species, by our research, have usually settled into such an era of peace, that the very mention of war is foreign to them. Put them in a realistic simulation, and they will surely soloc their pumus, if you'll pardon my language."
"A war simulation?"
"Yes, sir. They will have no idea what to do," Massix said, getting more and more excited with each word he says. "And they will find themselves slaughtered over and over again, and their psyches will break, and their minds will shatter, and their--"
"And so, what's this?"
General Lokox pointed towards a screen. He knew the scenery by heart--the Battle of Luksoc almost 20 cycles ago, when he was but an infantry soldier on the frontline--and he remembered the horrors of hiding in the trenches, trembling in his boots, long before the days of technology allowing the Korox race to effectively and efficiently claim planet by planet in the galaxy.
And so, he knew it was entirely unlikely for somebody to be leaping through Luksoc like it was gravity-less, firing a standard-issue PX-49 like it was a goddamned NJ-03, periodically pulling out a knife and ripping through enemy combatants like a one-man army.
"Oh..." was about the only thing Massix could offer.
"Oh?" Lokox's voice hardened. "Soldier, explain this!"
"That's a screening on a test subject from Earth," Massix's previously confident voice began to waver. "They...are doing exceptionally well, somehow."
"Luksoc," the General said grimly. "Was one of our hardest fought battles."
"Not to worry, General," Massix said. "There's a lot more battles! There's no way the humans can go through them all! After all, it will be a long time before they can even access our neural networks..."
"Holy shit," a voice crackled from the screen, in between sounds of crushing bones, bullet fire, and whoops of elation. "The graphics are so good!"
"And the combat is--" followed by what sounded like a disgustingly wet smacking of lips.
"Soldier," Lokox's voice now had its own wavering as well. "I think..."
"Take them off the war game programs?" Massix arms began rapidly flitting around his workstation. "Sure, sure, got it..."
"Hey," the voice crackled again. "I think I found the system menu. Pretty weird-looking thing, you know?"
Lokox stared wide-eyed at Massix.
Massix gulped. He really should have used more time to develop XL-45-W before pushing it live.
---
r/dexdrafts | Rumour had it that the Colhasses liked virtual reality. They were good at it. And that was their curse for they spent their days within those worlds. Large glass coffins filled with a watery green liquid sustained their bodies. Their brains were jacked up to a supercomputer that handled all the virtual realities. Every five years an engineer would wake up, check the systems, and go back to sleep if everything was alright -- it always was.
Zorathus, the legendary conqueror, decided to invade their planet. It looked easy to invade, the inhabitants were all almost asleep, and his army was unstoppable.
"Fellow Amphelans," he said, "we need to expand further. The cities are overcrowded. We need new land."
He said it on the national holographic channel. And the statement carried far and wide to each of the nine planets that Zorathus ruled with an iron fist.
There were no protests, no opposition. The Amphelans knew that it was unwise to question the great conqueror.
An army of combat-ready battleships gathered at Zorathus-I -- the capital planet of the great Zorathan empire.
"We are to invade Colhas. It is the planet of the unreal. They live in virtual reality," Zorathus said to his nine Fleet Commanders.
"We have heard of them, your Majesty," said the commander of the First Fleet.
Zorathus sneered, he wasn't in the habit of being interrupted. The Eighth Fleet Commander, a grey-haired man, bowed down and apologised for his comrade, who followed suit.
The clenched jaw of Zorathus loosened again as he said, "Yes, you have heard of them. Then you should know that they don't live in the same reality we live in. They live in the virtual world. No matter when we attack them, they will be asleep."
"They will be asleep, yes. So, your Majesty, when do we attack?" the Eighth Fleet Commander asked.
"When?" Zorathus laughed. "Why, we can attack any time we want to. And you know, the best time is now."
There was no strategy, none from the conqueror that is. The fleet commanders had decided on the attack shape -- circling the planet from eight directions and the centre. And that was it. The battleships readied for takeoff and set the course for Colhas -- the tenth planet to be.
When the ships entered the Colhas atmosphere, unbeknownst to the fleet commanders, alarms set off in all of Colhas. People stirred from their virtual dreams and staggered to their feet. They shook the green liquid off, took a bath, and picked their weapons up.
Soon, the invading armies spread in all directions like a rash. But the Colhasian soldiers were there to meet their challenge. They used their iron claws, grappling hook, sword hands, and sword legs, to kill the Zorathan invaders.
The First Fleet commander, a greenhorn, was caught in the heat of the battle. He made the mistake of leading his men as they did in the movies -- from the front. The experienced commanders held no such romantic notions. But the First Fleet commander did, and he found himself face-to-face with a Colhasian warrior whose skin was made of steel.
"Why are you fighting us?" he asked the First Fleet commander.
"We are here to claim this land as our own. We come for war."
These words angered the Colhasian warrior who lunged forward with a massive boom and decapitated the First Fleet commander. A large hole was left on the ground from where the warrior jumped. Atomic arrowheads followed -- arrowheads that destroyed the remaining fleet.
Zorathus saw the First Commander's blip disappear from his screen and he recalled his men. He wasn't stupid. "Those bastards must've been in a combat simulation," he muttered to himself.
But no worries, he only pressed a button to start the large air purifier that now hovered in the Colhasian atmosphere. It changed the ratio of gases in the atmosphere. Sooner or later, even the toughest of Colhasians would die. There were multiple ways to skin a cat or to conquer a planet. | 2020-12-25T08:59:39 | 2020-12-25T08:08:20 | 1,499 | 235 |
[WP] Being a supervillain married to a super hero you have to be very convert with your relationship. You thought you were doing a good job till one of your henchmen begs you the two of you to stop flirting while in the middle of your monologue. | "While your valiant strength and brilliant wit shine brightly, I must inform you that all hope is lost. Fear my-"
"Boss. Can we keep the flirting down and move on to the task at hand?"
Lord Meltinor took a moment to absorb the fact that his assistant just managed the most spectacular stage whisper he's ever heard. His minions buzzed with laughter and hushed conversation. Meltinor cleared his throat, turning his back to his assistant and facing the brilliantly beautiful hero in the red spandex. Damn. How did he manage that?
Her cheeks almost matched her suit and she held back laughter. The mood was utterly ruined.
"Mason, who said you could interject in my most evil of speeches?"
The assistant, a balding man with frown lines on every inch of his personality, rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Just arm the cage, Mason."
A faint buzz reverberated through the bars. The cage was made of a special alloy that was said to be the great hero's weakness. She had a weakness for whips, leather, and collars too, but that was neither here nor there.
"Now, we shall leave you here to contemplate the destruction that will be wrought with you immobilized. Farewell-"
"Farewell? How corny can this get."
Lord Maltinor groaned and turned to face his minions. They all awkwardly parted and left the chamber. The evil lair surely needed more cleaning. Only Mason stood there, resolute in his incredulous nature.
Maltinor waved his hands about. "Mason, we talked about this with HR. You really need to follow orders and stop being the peanut gallery. I'M YOUR LORD." It was almost pleading.
Mason sighed softly and said, "She will be my boss too, one day when she finally gives in a switches sides, I was just hoping to speed up the process."
Maltinor caught Mason's face breaking into a rare smile. He could never be mad at Mason.
Vital, the hero of Haven City, let out a laugh of her own. "Oh baby, he has a heavy set on him. He needs a raise."
Maltinor scoffed. "Ohhhh no. Don't say that now! He won't let me hear the end of it! Were you two working together?"
A betrayal most foul. Vital gave him a devilish grin. "You'll never know." | The night sky glistens as Timekeeper checks her watch. 12:32. The Bee should be here by now. The mayor, a bit confused as to why he still alive, seeing how Timekeeper said he would be dead at midnight, was still tied to the giant cookoo clock.
"He should have been here an hour ago" quips Timekeeper to absolutly nobody in particular. "Please check the cameras again"
"As you wish Timekeeper" says her henchman. Before he even gets there a giant man in a bee costume breaks through the window above the computers, kicking the henchmen right in the face, knocking him out cold.
"Finally" Says Timekeeper closing her pocketwatch, "Your a little late, you bumbling goof"
"I got distracted by the thought of looking into your eyes, and i couldnt solve the riddle"
"You handsome devil," said Timekeeper flirtingly, " You should have used your heart to guide you"
The Mayor yelled suddenly, "Ive been up here for 6 hours, can you please hurry it up". It was a lost cause however, as they were already having a full on make out session. "Can you hear me!?!" he yelled as loud as possible, "I'll have you know that since you are technically a vigilante I can have you IMPRISONED BEE"
Timekeeper muttered and motioned to her other henchman. Before the Mayor even knew what was going on, the henchman had pulled the steampunk lever, activating the cookoo bird and sending the mayor flying. His screams only lasted mere seconds, as he flew right into the shark infested tank.
As soon as the mayor stopped screaming, Timekeeper noticed the sirens coming her way. "We thats my cue you Bee-utiful man, what do you say we meet on Saturday, Ill tie the Police Chief to the clock tower,"
"Sounds good" said the Bee, already missing her, "Ill see you in time..." | 2020-01-11T15:23:14 | 2020-01-11T13:25:51 | 37 | 17 |
[WP] Every time you die, your consciousness shifts to another reality where everything is the same, except you survived. The transition is usually seamless, but at 178 years, you're starting to notice. | It was an extraordinary mission. Almost everyone, in hypersleep. Hypersleep, at faster than light speed, for 178 years, on a journey that would take more than 4,000. An incredible mission.
And, a heartbreaking one. None more heartbreaking than it.
Sent upon a H-Breaker ship, crewing but a 'mere' 650,000; Infinitesimal compared to the loss of the Milky Way. A loss brought upon by a thought-impossible turn of events; Attempts to manipulate the infinite forces involved in the supermassive black hole at the galaxy's center brought upon a collapse of the stellar engine that gave us refuge and unleashed a rippling gravity collapse, throwing everything it touched out of sync with every other orbit it was in.
With but only a few years to escape, a few of our sturdiest interstellar hypercapitals were retrofitted for long-distance drive and population sustain, and sent on an emergency, final mission to escape the Milky Way through H-Space and make it to Andromeda.
But it wasn't meant to be. The emergent autowake brought the crisis crew out of Hypersleep. I was among them, a generalist designated in this case to fill multiple emergency roles.
There was no role I could possibly fill, though, to stop the ship from careening between a dying planetoid and its neighboring devourer, a black hole. Why the ship's navigation had ever managed to bungle into this place, I'd never know. Why a rotation crew wasn't awake to stop it from happening pre-emptively, much the same.
All I wondered was, how different things would feel from the outside-in, compared to the inside-out, of a black hole?
I smirked with a sick sense of irony as I knew I was about to find out.
The time between when the first pieces of hull began to shear away and when I felt a pull on my body were short.
"Cheers," I said, raising my glass to nobody in particular before I turned to the relative quiet, and awaited spaghettifacation.
* * *
It was many cycles before I realized something - that I both could, and could not, feel my body being obliterated in the blink of an eye. That I could, and could not, remember it happening, more than once. That I could, and could not, remembering that I've spent far longer in a moment of death than every being in existence has approaching it.
That the time before my death had, at some point, faded into obscurity, and only those moments into the vortex remained.
I realized that I was, and was not, in Hell.
Because the infinity of each moment, was becoming more and more apparent to me with every repeat - yet every repeat was finite, and would bridge into another infinity.
I would be submerged in the tiny specks of time between each quantifiable unit passed upon which another cell within my body was acted upon by overwhelming gravitational force. These specks of time, so small that not even God himself could measurably appreciate them, were their own seperate eternities to me - every rearranged molecule a symphony of change played out in the song of billions of millenia.
Impossible to experience for one who'd only died once, but it became the definition of experience for one who died every fragment of time, across time, for eternity.
For that was how my blessing was abused - each time I died, I was resurrected in another timeline, one variable of the universe adjusted, but I still in the exact same black hole, just to die again.
Rinse, repeat, on and on and on.
Until, after a number of cycles reaching numbers who's only expression was genuinely blasphemous,
I had developed a consciousness capable of processing what had been happening.
But to process it was also to repeat the process more times than had been needed to grant me this consciousness.
I expanded, and grew, but died, again and again and again. The sensation of being crushed never became something I adapted to - in truth, there was no adaptation, only annihilation.
Annihilation, for eternities passed across the eternal.
The longest loop of all. | There's that tree you just hit, blowing gently in the evening breeze. No scratch. No chipping. Not even the slightest hint of damage.
"Fuck sake," you mutter. It doesn't surprise you anymore, death that is. You remember your first death, when you drowned in the ocean at six years old. After many years of life there's something you've realised; it's damn easy to die. Of course in your case, it's a little easier. You've just died, oh no. The last thoughts are trickling through your head and suddenly you're snapped into consciousness. Except, you aren't the same you. You're you but a different you. A you who may not even be in the same place. Or maybe you are, but in the state of having survived, ripe for the sticky fingers of the reaper. It's no surprise that it's easy for you to die.
This time you were driving home. You're 178 now, yet somehow haven't had your license revoked. Enough contemplating, you have all the time in the world. It'll take a while to get free, your aged body doesn't have the strength to pull a stick of metal from your abdomen. You try and try, and eventually it does come free.
"Help!"
There's nobody there. You try and open the door, but the impact has crumpled the mechanism. You resign to your fate and let your body lose consciousness, let yourself die. It's actually a useful strategy, dying. Kill yourself whenever you're in a tough spot, then wake up in a reality where you've solved the problem. Of course it does have its downsides, like not always knowing what has transpired and all that.
Your eyes begin to close and you embrace the feeling of nothing. Hopefully this time you'll have escaped, or not even crashed at all. It's just pot luck that your first revival of the day involved being in a doomed situation. I guess you did technically escape your original death, even if you traded it for an almost identical one.
Why hasn't it happened yet? Even more perplexing, why are you still able to think? No answer befalls you, and suddenly just like that, it happens. But wait, no. You aren't in a new body. You're hovering above your corpse! You can see in every direction at once, every detail. But what is this? This feeling? This situation? A voice? Is that a voice?
"Lord Death!" it exclaims. You try to reply, but you have no mouth. It speaks again, but it does not appear to be addressing you.
"The spell is starting to fade. Your consciousness is starting to materialise, as are your abilities. Once you return, you must abandon this soul. They were fated to die long ago.
You don't understand, how could you even understand? The voice speaks once more, yet this time you somehow tell, somehow know. It's talking to you.
"You won't remember this after you revive, but I'll tell you anyway. For 172 years Lord Death has been attached to your soul, reviving you whenever you passed. Not consciously of course, you were meant to drown as a child. However the spell is breaking, and in years to come you will start to fear the end. That is all I have to say to you.
Finally you snap into a new reality, unaware of what just transpired. You're driving on the road, on your right you see the two trees. The first where you crashed and died and the second where you crashed and died in your attempt to escape. You drive along, unknowing that one day the death that stays with you, will one day be gone. | 2021-01-09T08:43:20 | 2021-01-09T07:42:35 | 27 | 17 |
[WP]: The most sought woman in the town has announced that she will marry whoever can open her door with the key around her cats neck. Many have tried to catch, trap and hunt down the cat, who always escapes. You are the first to figure out they've all been doing this all wrong. | That damn cat.
Scratching his head for ideas was starting to wear a bald spot in his cap. “What do cats desire most? What does Francine’s cat desire most?”, he thought to himself as he stared from his stoop at the sleeping coil of calico.
A boy and his mother enjoying a Sunday stroll approach the cat. The boy reaches down and offers the cat a taste of his ice cream, but before you could say “Two scoops and some nuts”, the mother was screaming, pecan bits were flying, and that coil was now constricted around the young boys face.
“Ha, little dipshit,” the man thought as he pulled out his phone and began to record the scene. A crowd had started to form around the drops of blood and now melted ice cream. The scarlet red and milky white told the entire story. That’s when it hit him.
Cats love milk.
Heads turned as the man jumped to his feet and yelled “Jenga!!” He spun around and sprinted up the stairs to his apartment. He quickly obtained the milk carton and not so quickly obtained a clean bowl.
Skipping stairs and spilling most of the milk on the way down, the man arrived at his destination. The cat stared motionlessly. The man stared back. He readjusted the motorcycle helmet he was wearing and then set the bowl a few feet away from the cat, backing away cautiously, This wasn’t their first rodeo.
Yet, to his surprise, the cat was accepting. There really wasn’t much milk left in the bowl to begin with, so it didn’t take long for the cat to finish. As it staggered back in the direction of his usual spot, the cat began to sway side to side until it eventually plopped down laying motionless on the sidewalk, yet again.
The words “What the fuck?” spilt slowly out of his mouth as he tightens down the chinstrap to his motorcycle helmet and approached the again motionless gato. Thinking it was some form of deception, he kicked the bowl towards the cat to stir a reaction. Still motionless. Could this be his shot? He took a step forward, drew as much breath as he could, and reached for the key.
The cat did not contest.
The man stripped off the helmet, ran to the door, and to his relief it opened. Suddenly, the foyer was filled with an unfamiliar voice.
“Hello? Is someone there?” Footsteps approached and at last he was face to face with the girl that every man in town had been quite literally dying to meet. (No really the cat had like killed a bunch of people already). Naturally, her first question was “How did you manage to get the key from my cat?” As he explained the situation he couldn’t help but notice her reaction was not one of joy or excitement.
“Is something wrong my love?” he questioned.
Her expression changed and like that she was screaming in his face telling him what a no good piece of shit husband he was and how she could never love a man like him.
“Hold on a second here. Im confused! I got the key and now I’m here. I thought you wanted someone to figure out how to get the key.”
“Not if it means killing my cat you twisted piece of shit!!” She cried.
“Kill it? No sweetheart I just put her to sleep with some good ole fashion boob juice.” He replied with a comforting intent.
It didn’t help because she immediately went into a violent state of shock, scratching at the man as she screamed, “My cat was lactose intolerant you fucking monster!” | Humans have always been on the strange side, especially the Sukts. This Sukt however was a wealthy merchant, owning several ships, so we put up with her weirdness. Yep her, but we orcs are egalitarians when it comes to putting up with people due to money. However, she remained alone. One day as I walked through the streets heading somewhere just to find it was nowhere, I spotted a crowd clustered around the notice board. My first assumption was that some one's nude's had been leaked. Last month it was the daughter of the Mayor, he had been livid but what could he do? The artist was never seen. This time it wasn't nudes, it was the annual baking contest. He instantly knew who would win and turned to go, then he spotted the real reason. Gwendoline, the female merchant, was having a contest for her hand in marriage. Whoever could get the key around her cat's neck could marry her. That was an issue, after all my old master, a beast shaaman, had given her that cat. What was its name? Midnight I think. I watched others struggle to capture the cat. It was great fun. The cat lead them on fantastic chases. Bratish cheif's would find themselves stuck and having to beg for help. Rich merchants found themselves with soiled clothes. Corca the Lesbian was pushed into the water. The lawsuit for discrimination went nowhere and she married the defense lawyer.
&#x200B;
All throughout this the baker, who had indeed won the annual baking contest, kept giving Gwendolyne food. I do wonder how much she was paying him to deliver. The food looked delicious and I would occasionally steal a scone. He, also being Suktish, was the only baker in the orcish city of Tracats that baked them. They were delicious. After two months I had a sudden idea. I ran to where the cat was. Midnight was eating some tarts at the baker's door. No doubt this was an order, I would have to chase the cat away. I reach out my hand and flicked up. A spike of Earth impaled the cat and I grabbed the. I triumphantly went and unlocked Gwendolyne's door. Now I could have a bride and be wealthy. I wouldn't have to do odd jobs with my magic used for menial tasks. I could study with the greatest of the shaaman. I would become great and teach my own students. Oh happy day, oh glorious day. She looked at me and then behind me to the baker carrying the cat. She screeched and ran to him. After hearing what happened Gwendolynechased me out crying. The rules hadn't specified no death, what did she think would happen.
&#x200B;
She married the baker and I was not invited to the wedding even though the entire city was.
(Adventures in Swiat)
(I mean no ill will towards /u/NicodemusLux 's story. I quite liked it. I just felt like poking some fun at it. If you are he and desire this to be taken down just ask and it will be done.) | 2019-05-01T17:38:32 | 2019-05-01T17:15:21 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] "Witch! Heathen! Burn her!" You watch with amusement as they begin lighting the pyre under you. The flames tickle your feet, bringing a familiar warmth with them. They are silly to that think they could actually burn a dragon with fire. | My grin sent a shiver down his spine. "I can do this all day."
The elvish inquisitor stood quietly aghast, unsure of how to address the mob around him. Only the fire crackling under my feet filled up the silence that weighed on everyone. They didn't know if they could trust me. Even if they didn't realize I was a dragon, they still knew I wasn't human like them. That was enough to put them on edge. The inquisitor drew his sword and proclaimed to them:
"I'll have to slay this creature with a more vicious approach. Your children and the faint of heart should turn away now."
"Stop!" shouted a young woman, on the verge of tears. "I'm telling you she saved us!" She pleaded at the villagers around her. "You all know it's the truth!"
The villagers stayed quiet.
"At the very least," said the young woman, "let's hear her out."
"I've had enough of this," moaned the inquisitor, winding up his sword.
"That won't work either" I muttered.
The inquisitor paused for a second mid-swing. "R-really?" He frowned. "Why am I even listening to you?"
"Fine; go ahead."
The inquisitor's blade shattered upon striking me. It scratched his cheek as it spun away.
"Told ya'."
The inquisitor touched his wound and widened his eyes when he saw his bloody fingers. "You dare strike me?"
"B-but I didn't..."
The inquisitor turned towards the villagers. "As an agent of the empire, if you all don't help me execute this creature, I'll report this place for harboring a monster!"
The villagers exchanged uncertain looks with each other.
"Don't listen to him," I said. "They're already losing the war. A place this far from a major city can't be protected for long."
"Y-you heretical-"
The villagers murmured among themselves.
"The truth is I protected this place from bandits when the empire neglected it. You don't get to make demands when I'm the one providing them with safety."
"Yeah!" added a few villagers.
"Then why did you hide your identity?" said the inquisitor. "Why fool these people if you weren't planning on exploiting them?"
"Honestly? I just want to be left alone. As a battlemage, I abandoned my nation after bringing senseless slaughter during the war. The humans are more than right to hate me. I'm a product of the very tyranny they oppose. Then again, the same also applies to you, and I very well may be the lesser of two evils here."
The villagers had already circled around the elvish inquisitor, wielding pitchforks and shovels. They made quick work of him and freed me from my bonds. I could've broken out of them but the gesture was nice. My deal with the mayor was simple. I'd live in the village as a human, protecting it from anyone attacking it. The upcoming power vacuum, once the war ended, would mean many new nations would try to assert their influence over this place. They needed me more than ever. It wouldn't be easy, but after years of wandering and being feared, I welcomed the opportunity to finally settle down in a stable place as myself.
------
>I feel like I'm late to this thread and nobody will see it lol If you enjoyed this, please consider checking out /r/WeirdEmoKidStories for more or read [Shotgun Fantasy](https://www.reddit.com/r/WeirdEmoKidStories/comments/exa1om/wp_the_humans_were_always_disregarded_due_to/) for a web serial set in this story's world. Thanks for reading! | "Ava Dauphin" the priest shouted to me as the pyre started to burn. "You still have time to renounce the devil. Repent all your sins and you will be saved"
The warmth... Oh did I miss it so much? It was really a mistake to think that they would accept me... I have left my riches and my safe home to congregate with them but to what price...
"REPENT! REPENT! REPENT!" The crowd shouted as the fire reached my bounded feet and burnt the long dress that I was wearing.
I kept myself silent, anticipating for the fire to enfold me. Once it reached my core, my true form will come back in shape and I will break lose. If only they would be there in the crowd to see the real me...
"Ava Dauphin, the Lord will have mercy on your soul if you repent! Denounce in vain the devil. Return yourself to our Lord's good graces" the priest shouted again.
The black smoke surrounded me. The heavy armed men started to move forward making the gathering to move back to avoid the smell and the flames to reach them.
The church bells rang. That was odd. It was to early... Someone was in the church. The priest panicked and told the high ranking of the armed men to send him a man to the church. It should be empty. Those bells don't ring unless the priest opens the tower and he had the key in his robes.
The flames are slowly reaching my core and I can feel it. The metamorphosis will not be stopped now. I smiled wide as the heat of the fire made my human form melt away and the screams of horror started as soon my scaled body emerged from the fire.
I opened my eyes, my real eyes, and watched the priest fall backwards and hold his crucifix to his chest before soiling himself up.
The armed men pushed back the crowd that tried to rush away after seeing my true self. All of them running away from me. From the monstrous me. Everyone except them.
Their eyes. Those bewitching blue eyes. Their hands trembled as holding the sword. All those years ago. All the happiness that we had. Tears streaming down my face as I have accepted my fate.
Release me from this sweet bitter life of mine. My dearest.
They stopped trembling and run their sword through my heart. Now they will be the eternal king and our children will be the princes that this land deserve.
"Ava" they wispered "Ava, I love you".
"Me too" said back as I felt my last breathes rushing out my lungs. "Be a good king. I will wait for you"
Rain fall making the fire to extinguish and they rose to their feet with my heated dragon heart. They were crowned king and had a long life.
People eventually went back to their routine and told the story of me and they. They were praised and I wasn't. I couldn't blame them. The king had a long life and the children eventually took over them in the throne and in their lives.
They died with my heated heart close to theirs. The priest told our story, not with me as the bad one, but with me as the one that showed the real king as they were in life.
They were buried and later made Saint. We reunited after death.
They.
Me.
Us. | 2021-01-03T07:17:44 | 2021-01-03T06:44:28 | 72 | 18 |
[WP] Due to the increasing ammount of souls that need reaping, Death has decided to upgrade from a scythe to a farming combine. | Sometime after the Great War things upstairs started to get a little crowded. The Big Guy had been warned about how antiquated his standards were but he was insistent as Gods were wont to do. Management in Heaven as on Earth was rarely a case of mutual understanding, God gave an order and you saluted with your eyes properly averted and your fist at precisely the correct angle over your heart and then you jumped off that cloud and got to work.
There was plenty of incentive to do so after all, everyone knew Hell took all comers and they packed ‘em in tight down there.
So the Grim Reaper did just that. He snapped his heels together, saluted sharply, and then jumped off God’s cloud and set to work for the next 50 years. He earned two stress ulcers and a bad case of tennis elbow in the process, until the backlog got so bad that the younger saints were setting up holding pens in purgatory.
But then in the summer of ‘69 Grim met a farm boy down in southern Georgia living out the last of his days on stolen cases of beer and a broken heart; picking out old tunes on a banjo less two strings, and a legend was born.
In the great blank expanse of purgatory, hemmed in on all sides by hurriedly constructed walls, roiling masses of souls waited. They were near translucent, a great panoply of colors flowing from them in accordance with their deeds in life. In this extra-judicial slum of the afterlife the souls had nothing to do except to wait, and to talk, and talk they did.
They spoke of a spectre rumored to be on his way even now, not Death himself for his days as a reaper were long past, but another. An apprentice of sorts, who whistled as he worked, and betimes was known to stop his endless march to accompany himself on strings made of human sinew. His herald was a roar, beginning as a dull bass note in the distance that rose to a deafening crescendo as he went, a terrific mélange of old time, classic rock, and cold hard American steel.
Cletus the Reaper was coming.
\---------
r/TurningtoWords for more! | As it turns out a lifetime of scamming was liable to get you shot. Reluctantly I poked my still warm corpse resting between the bullet-riddled cubicles and shag carpeting. A ghostly outline of my boss floating next to his mutilated corpse slumped across the hall. "So Jerry how is the family treating you?"
"I swear to God Frank, I never knew that my wife was planning this let alone I was going to get kruked by my own trench broom." Even though the veil of death, I could feel the disapproval on the shadow lingering feet away. A distant sound of mechanical crunching and screaming approaching from somewhere outside.
"Do you hear that?" The fluorescent lighting above now crackling and sparking as something tore into the far wall. Mechanical teeth tearing through the wall to malicious laughter as I started my sprint. Dodging between the half hazard cubicles as a combine tore apart Jerry and atop a black-cloaked figure cackled madly.
Scythe in boney hand the grim reaper himself ripped through the cubicles as I slammed the lift's top floor button. Oh god, oh fuck I was lying when I said a nearby farmer needed help keeping his farm afloat. With a final ding, the doors shut just in time as the combine's teeth dug into the door as the elevator rose. The monitors on the elevator walls flickering to life the reaper's visage crackling as his voice whispered into my ears.
"I will be back scammer and when I do I want my money back or ill come up there myself and reap your measly soul." Deep heavy breaths filling my nonexistent lungs as the flickering light returned to normal operation. The doors scarred and pockmarked opening up to the roof the porch covered in corpses. | 2021-01-17T11:10:47 | 2021-01-17T09:32:56 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] A field surgeon in a fantasy world has performed life saving surgery on many an orc war band before, unwittingly becoming blood brothers with most of his patients. In his darkest days, his extended family comes to offer their hands. | 6th day, 3rd Moon of Solaria, 5th Year of the Southern Subjugation Campaign
We've captured some greenskins - Sgt. Winters wants them alive. "Alive" he says, after he'd been using the last few POWs for swordsmanship practice. The beasts don't even get the luxury of being properly slaughtered. I've mended their wounds as best as I can, but I've no doubt they'll sustain more. The men have been voicing murderous thoughts, and not quietly. "Alive" doesn't mean "unharmed".
30th day, 4th Moon of Nyx, 6th Year of the Southern Subjugation Campaign
Another settlement razed. We lost Marco and Davies in the process - good riddance. Their unsanctioned "interrogations" meant I'd had to dip into my healroot supplies. Sgt. Winters has admitted that the greenskins make good beasts of burden, but doesn't see the need to feed or care for them. "Cutter," he says, "the men are starting to talk". They can talk all they want, I'm the bloody reason half of them can even talk in the first place.
1st day, 1st Moon of Avis, 6th Year of the Southern Subjugation Campaign
Winters is dead. Nothing to do about it. I thought I was making headway, but that plan's gone to shit. I'll have to do something drastic. They might say I've got "Greenfever" now, but after tonight... well. Mar'tuk swore that the men won't be harmed - I think. His accent is atrocious. Kill them if you have to, I say. Whatever gets the women and children free.
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Heavy footsteps. Jangling metal. My executioner, or my torturer? I've asked the same question for so long, always with the same disappointing answer. There's a different quality this time around though, and for a moment I dare to hope. The door squeals open on its hinges and light stabs in - or at least tries to.
I blink.
A small army has assembled outside my cell.
"Kah'tar."
The word is murmured by many deep voices, carried gently with reverence. My eyes strain, and I see - I see my work. My early, slipshod stapling. The stitching, lit by candlelight. The broken bottle that had sailed past me while I'd struggled to keep them out of the tent-
"Ahn Kah'tar."
Smiling hurts, but I'm used to pain by now.
"I see your accent is as bad as ever, Mar'tuk. It's 'Anne', not 'Ahn'." | Ganymede, the medic, wished desperately for the self-control to quiet his heaving chest, the better to hide from the ambush that had wiped out his unit.
He'd tried to tell them. A year earlier, with a different unit, he'd seen almost exactly the same thing: two ambush parties collapsing on his unit like a pincer, from tree stands on either side of the road. Everyone but him had died that day, and ever since, he'd been "Ganymede the Cursed."
The road from Raldos to Leranith contained just such a spot for an ambush, and indeed it had happened again. The damnable elves fell upon his unit like hyenas to a lion's kill after the lions had their fill.
Suddenly his leg flared with pain, blotting everything else out, and he shrieked loudly enough to wake the dead. Falling backward, he saw the throwing spear protruding from his right shin.
He dimly realized someone had picked him up, accompanied by a familiar scent, but he couldn't make his brain work well enough to place the scent, or see who had picked him up. At that point, his senses failed completely and he drifted though lightless void.
&#x200B;
An indeterminate time later, Ganymede woke up. Opening his eyes and levering himself to a sitting position he realized he was in a medic tent of some kind. The noise of his awakening, however, drew...
"Ganymede! You've woken up! Thank the Spirits!"
"Wait...Janthil?" Ganymede recognized the voice of an Orc whom he'd saved a few days ago. "How did I end up with you?"
"You saved my life, and have done so for many of my compatriots. Did you think we'd be so callous as to abandon you?"
"What do you mean?"
"When an Orc's life is saved, he swears a blood oath to the one who saved it. You've saved tens of my people at LEAST. We are your family, and all of us are here."
Ganymede tried to process that thought. "But that means..."
"It's unusual for a human to lead an Orc pack, but not unheard of, given the skill your people have with medicine. We'll fight and die with you till this war is over!" | 2020-09-08T20:03:55 | 2020-09-08T18:33:55 | 29 | 17 |
[WP] There is one Ironclad rule in the world: If you have powers, you are probably going to be a Hero or Villain. You have some extremely powerful abilities, but you said you never wanted to be a Hero. Now everybody is convinced you want to be a Villain, and won't stop trying to "save you from evil" | The door rattled before a knock came. Instinct kicked in.
"Try to bless me and I will send you to your maker."
Feet sprinted away from the door as I relaxed and sipped on my tea. Why is this happening to me? It's been two years since my powers manifested, and I declared neutrality. Everyone took it to mean that I was going to stab them in the back sooner or later, and kept trying to help me.
It's not working. It's doing the opposite. Every time they try to help my hatred and rage grows; even when I tell them this, they're convinced it's just the evil inside me winning. There is no binary of good versus bad. It's all muddy, and now I've got metaphorical trench foot.
On the morrow I leave this damned place. I never was one for the adventurer's life, and the scars I'd accumulated from dragon slaying still hurt. My plan is to sneak out in the dead of night, escape several dozen miles away, and live in a shack in the woods.
To my former comrades; I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you and risk you following me. To the church; damn you all. To whoever finds this note; burn it. Please.
Exile is the only future I can see.
*- Excerpt from a note attached to a bounty board, WANTED DEAD - 500G REWARD* | "Tuck, we made an appointment for you. Please keep it this time."
I sigh. "Cal, how many times do I have to tell you? Just because I don't want to be a hero, it doesn't mean I want to be a villain. You're not even a family member, how can you make appointments on my behalf?"
Cal smiles. "By pretending to be you?"
"GODDAMMIT, CAL! LEAVE ME ALONE!" I use my camouflage ability to slip away. Cal tries to grab me, but I'm too fast. I then switch from camouflage to flight.
I land at the entrance to a cave. The entrance doesn't exist unless you can phase through matter... like me. I slip through with ease. I check up on my progress, and crack an evil grin.
"Just keep this up for a couple more months, Tuck... then the towns and villages will all be yours..." | 2022-10-04T17:10:27 | 2022-10-04T11:21:00 | 177 | 107 |
[WP] A hacker finally solves Cicada 3301 after working on it for 3 years, and is admited into the secret society. What happens next?
Just in case you're not familiar, here is some background on Cicada 3301:
* [Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cicada_3301)
* [Telegraph Article](http://www.telegraph.co.uk/technology/internet/10468112/The-internet-mystery-that-has-the-world-baffled.html)
* [Warning Pastebin](http://pastebin.com/XsnDm9wC) | "Alright, man. This has been fun."
"You sure you have to go?"
"Yeah, my mom texted me hours ago."
"But we just solved this thing! We've got to post it!"
Keegan said 'we solved it', but it was really all Alex's doing. Keegan had just watched. He'd watched for years as Alex decoded this, intercepted this or that packet, traced these numbers to these places -- truth was, Keegan wasn't positive what Alex had done. But whatever he'd done, he was presumably the first to do it.
"Nah, man. Don't post it." Alex said. "Let someone else solve it too, you know?"
"Whaaat?" Keegan groaned. "You just solved the fourth round of Cicada 3301! You're not the least bit interested in glory, are you?"
"Not really." Alex replied flippantly. "I'll see you tomorrow, right?"
"Sure."
"And don't post it!"
Keegan sighed and listened to Alex descend the stairs, exit the front door, and enter his car. He heard the crappy little '92 Civic engine hum away into the distance. He was alone in his house again, for the umpteenth time. There was but a brief moment of silence before the right-handed Keegan was loosening his belt and browsing the internet with his left hand. However, this too was brief.
Keegan sat staring at his screen in bewilderment. There, overlaying 'Sorority Girl Plays with Three Others', was a most peculiar pop-up. Instead of saying he was the winner of some questionable contest, or begging him to subscribe to another porn site, it said... 'Congratulations on solving Cicada 3301.'
Keegan slowly readjusted his pants and leaned in towards the screen.
'Please confirm your identity with the last three integers of the third puzzle, and the first five words from the final puzzle.'
He... He remembered them. Keegan had watched intently as each keystroke he made entered the chatbox:
'595 We've taken notice of you' Keegan typed. Before he could hit enter, a response came.
'Thank you. You've done well for being so young, Keegan Stump.'
A cold sweat shook his body. Was it too cliche to ask how they knew his name? Was this really the Cicada 3301 people?
'Um... Well, honestly...'
'No need to be bashful, Keegan. We'll be seeing you soon enough.'
'Wait a second, I'm not really --'
His doorbell rang. Keegan peeked out his window, but the angle wasn't steep enough and he saw no cars on the street. He was frozen with fear now, but another message popped up on the screen, even as his typed message sat idle in the chatbox:
'Answer the door, Keegan, and don't be so frightened. We have a lucrative deal to offer you.'
His cursor moved on its own to close the window and his screen went black. | It was raining that day in New York City. The rain made the wait particularly annoying. I was standing in front of a random McDonalds in Queens, clutching a my soaked jacket to my body in an effort to stay dry. It didn’t help that cars kept speeding by, kicking up a torrent of muddy water to hit me in the face.
I looked down at my phone. The email had said to meet here at 2:45, and it was almost 3 o’clock. It may have just been a hoax. Did I just waste my time the past three years?
A white van screeched to a halt in front of me. A fat man, wearing goggles, a fedora, and sporting a very attractive neck beard hopped out of the front. Before I knew what was happening, he had pulled a bag over my head. I screamed, and then everything faded to black as a rod hit me in the back of my head.
When I came to, I noticed I was sitting in a shitty fold up chair, tied to the back with ropes. The room was dim—all I could see were a bunch of open Cheetos bags discarded all across the floor, and a few bottles of Mountain Dew.
Suddenly the man from before walked out of the shadows, along with five other hooded figures.
“So you solved the puzzle eh?” the hatted man said.
“Uhh yeah,” I responded.
“Only the most leet of haxors can crack that code. Look around! You are standing in the company of other men who have solved it. This is a collection of truly extraordinary gentleman!” He spread his arms and the lights turned on. One by one, all the men behind him removed their hoods. I have never seen such an odd lot. Acne was present in full force, and body shapes varied from the skinny and gangly to the very obese. It was at this point that I finally noticed the smell. The body odor present in this basement was reminiscent of a middle school classroom.
“We are the men of Cicada 3301!” The head man sporting the fedora said. “We take down corporations! We take down corrupt governments! We fight for the people!” With this small, shitty speech, all of his compatriots smiled looking as important as they could.
“So will you join us?” All the guys looked at me expectantly. Three long fucking years, and this is what I was presented with.
“Uhh I think I’ll pass” I responded.
| 2014-06-04T06:42:32 | 2014-06-04T06:28:44 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] You often get mistaken for your twin sister. Though it never really bothered you, now that she's become one of the most feared criminals in city, it's starting to become a problem. | "I'm terribly sorry for this incident, Miss Roberts."
"It's okay, it... it happens. I'm used to it."
Rachel Roberts offered the police chief a small smile while she held the ice pack over her swelling right eye. The man was absolutely livid, but his anger was not directed at her. No, it was to three Capers to the side; gaudy superheroes in such clashing colorful outfits that even a blind man would flinch. He sighed deeply and turned his head to them.
"What have I told you three about procedure? Unless they're running amok in costume or riding a giant robot, you have to confirm their identity first!"
Shooting Star lifted her head up. "W-Well, if we asked and it was really her, she could've just lied and-"
"The handbook you received deals with that," the police chief fired back. He straightened up as if reciting a speech. "If still unsure, you ask them to accompany you to the police station to double-check! No aggressive action unless your life is threatened or they attempt to escape. That's literally page two!"
The Caper dropped her gaze back to the floor. Rachel waved her hand gently in the air to garner the chief's attention back to her. "Listen, I still need to get groceries, is it okay if I leave?"
The police chief turned back to her with concern. "Of course. Would you like one of my officers to escort you to the entrance, or even to the store? It's the least we can do."
Rachel shook her head, already getting up out of her seat. "Oh, no no, I don't want to be a burden. I'll ask if I get lost on the way out." Truth be told she wouldn't have needed an escort to the entrance even if both eyes were swollen shut. This occurrence happened almost weekly, and the station layout was imprinted in her mind as closely as her own apartment.
She stepped out onto the city sidewalk with a warm smile already returning to her face. At least she got the weekly confrontation out of the way. Now her schedule should be clear for the remainder of the-
"Stop right there, Silver Slasher!"
"Oh for the love of..." | Me and my sister get called out for a lot of nonsense. It started when we were 9. As the smart one of the family I knew to cross my T's and Dot my I's. However my twin sister always had the idea in her head that when it came to me and my straightforward ways, I had to be thrown under the rug.
Snap to 20 years later, my sister and I had separated at that point and we took off on our own paths. She became the bane of everyone existence while I maintained a job as a Secretary for an esteemed law firm. My boss came in to my office today and handed me a manilla envelope with red marker drawing out the words, for your eyes only and dropped it on the desk in front of me.
I openned the parcel and found that my face was on the picture. Scars all over and gave the impression there was nothing I couldnt do. My boss said, "Do you know anything of this?". Of course I had no clue but it all dawned on me that the woman in the photo was my sister. I knew right away what had to be done.
Later I went home and openned the box that had the detonator in place. I pulled it out knowwing what was going to happen. I pressed the button that said ignite, and I waited. Not even a second later, I heard a faint pop in the room adjacent to mine. My sister's headless torso exploded in the kitchen next to mine and I am now facing time in jail for 20 years for manslaughter. At least she couldnt hurt anyone else anymore.
If you want to fill in the blanks between this story as this is my first time ever writing one, let me know. and ill do my best. | 2019-11-03T06:46:49 | 2019-11-03T06:30:41 | 279 | 17 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | What was so unsettling was the *detail*.
He scribbled down the woman's death in his battered little book.
"Blunt forced trauma: Swelling of the cranial tissues: Lack of oxygen to the brain. Death."
Medication did nothing. His doctors informed him it was quite an unusual delusion. He'd asked how they were always right. They'd informed him that his delusion just adapted to what happened after the fact. His memories were somehow part of it all. Brains could be fucked up.
Still, it always ended the same way. Lack of oxygen to the brain. Death.
They were delicate little things. We are delicate little things.
He would have told people, so they could corroborate him. But that wasn't often the best way to keep friends, and he wasn't very good at the whole friends thing even if he wasn't asking them to remember lists of how people were going to die.
The natural conclusion was to write it down.
He gazed around the train's carriage and picked out another. There wasn't much point of course, he didn't know these people. He couldn't use them to prove himself when they died. He wouldn't know if they did. Still... It had grown into a habit. It helped him forget, once it was recorded.
"Severed femoral artery: Loss of blood: Cardiac arrest. Lack of oxygen to the brain: Death."
Annother violent one. Usually there were a few cancers, spontaneous Cardiac arrests or strokes. He'd found an overall 12.3% chance of "accidental" death. He turned in his seat to glance back down the rows of people.
"Crushed Chest: Asphyxiation: Lack of oxygen to the brain: Death."
Another. More Blunt force. Annother severed artery. Burns...
Everyone in this carriage. Every single...
*Oh.*
The train lurched. Jolted. His head cracked into the side. Trains shouldn't move sideways. The was a squeal of metal on metal drowned out the screams.
For a moment up and down were interchangeable. Cans, cups of coffee, bags of luggage and twisted figures were flung into the air and slammed into the wall in an explosion of movement.
He saw as the window burst inwards and a shapeless mass of steel slammed into him.
Huh. So it was one of those.
Didn't really hurt. But then, he'd never expected it to. Never sounded like it hurt.
He could feel the blood pumping out, warm down his side as the dust settled in a sudden eerie silence. His breath caught, fast and shallow. Which first, the blood or the air? Same thing in the end.
Lack of oxygen to the brain.
He could feel himself slipping away.
Death.
| He worked alone, he always had. Not because he wanted to, but people just had a tendency to not notice him. It was depressing really. Every person he ever met instantly forgot him, or tried to ignore him, it was hard to tell sometimes. As for his work, well, he worked in travel, a mostly administrative position.
As far back as he could remember, and he could remember a lot, he'd been able to see the cause of death of every person he'd ever met, floating above their heads with a little countdown timer right next to it. It had never fazed him. At first he'd just been there, at the end, to see it happen. But as the years drew on he'd become more interested in what you might call the more important deaths; politicians, movie stars, media types generally. He'd always show up, usually at their funeral, and mingle with the crowd, comforting them and just being a part of it. He'd always found a certain pleasure in this, like he was helping in some way, letting people know that death was just the next step in a person's life. The last great journey.
He did notice a worrying trend though. While he was attending the funeral of a renowned author, the timer for a newborn child was showing that his cause of death was to be by meteor strike, with a date some 70 years from now. As more children were born they too had this very same timer, and some that were to die by radiation poisoning, nuclear explosions, freezing to death and starving in the few years after the event. Again this didn't faze him.
He closed the door to his office and got to work with the planning and admin role to which he was very accustomed by now, he'd been doing it long enough. The buzzer on his desk lit up and the words of his P.A. came tinnily through as he looked up to the corridor, seeing a large, hulking figure though the glass.
"Azrael, I have a Mr Waugh here to see you."
***
I took some liberties, in that I actually wanted to use the idea of a timer in this story. Sorry. CC welcome as this is my first ever submission. Be gentle haha! | 2015-03-31T11:46:09 | 2015-03-31T09:57:05 | 71 | 10 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | "-so in the end, all life is really just the inevitable manifestation of the universe's irrepressible desire to kill itself" the immortal explained, still fiddling under their desk. "Life is not rare, not a miracle; We are entropy, we exist to consume more energy than we give back, and then we die. It's actually very simple"
"We're like little fires, lit by a suicidal God in their own house. All that's left for them is to watch us dance, and wait to die" For a human, the immortal sometimes said some wonderful things. Death had come to like that about these visits, as the immortal liked to talk.
*"So, once again, do you choose to continue here?"* Death rasped, his mind and body simultaneously in a trillion locations, claiming a trillion souls, yet each of those countless fragments with an eye on the immortal in this room. To their credit, the immortal held up very well under the scrutiny of the infinite slivers of Death.
"You know the answer to that, Mr Bones" The immortal grinned, finally emerging from behind the desk. The nicknames Death could do without, but that had become a lost cause long ago. "Then I go" Death nodded, fading into Nothing. "Hold on!" The immortal interrupted, reaching into Nothing and pulling Death back out. When had they learned to do that?
"This time, I have a present for you" the immortal dangled a finger over a switch on the desk, waggling their eyebrows excitedly. Death waited, as always.
"The last few years have confirmed it" the immortal finally said, suddenly pensive. "I was cut from a different cloth. Not quite Entropy, but..." Death waited for more, but the silence stretched on, punctuated by the uncomfortably loud ticking of a grandfather clock. Both figures staring silently, unmoving, waiting.
"I have no desire to kill my god and watch my universe burn out" the immortal said, breaking the silence at last. The immortal rested a finger on the switch, regarding Death with an unreadable look. "I can't stop entropy, but I can slow it, for a time. So today, I offer you what you offered me. Do *you* choose to continue, old friend?"
Death said nothing, so the immortal pressed the switch. | I recognised his voice from behind me. "Cancer, this time? Not a good way to go. She suffered in the end."
"They all suffer in the end, don't they? But I give them the best I can with the time they have."
Death approached, placing his hand on my shoulder, the sleeve of a crisp white shirt poking out from beneath the sleeve of his ever black suit. "You can end your own suffering, too. All you have to do is ask."
I turned to face him. Both an adversary, and also a friend. "Death. You know my answer. She may have suffered, but I know the last thing she was thinking about was the teacups at Disneyland. She loved those teacups. And the characters! Mickey Mouse! Pluto! Goofey! Cinderella! She damn near fainted when she saw Jack Sparrow."
"CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow." Death interjected.
"So you do pay attention. My point is, the amount of joy I can help give someone, especially in their last moments... You'll have to wait a bit longer for me, I'm afraid. A child deserves a childhood, no matter what illness they may have."
"Very well," Death resigned. "Where are you off to next?"
"There's a 6 year old with Leukeamia in Paraguay. He wants to be Spiderman for a day. With the help of the NYPD, he's gonna be saving New York from the Green Goblin. I'm sure you'll see it on the news."
"And you'll be...?"
"Green Goblin, naturally. The smile on his face when he defeats me will greatly outweigh the sorrow of his passing."
"I'll see you at his funeral, then."
"Goodbye, Death." | 2017-11-30T10:48:02 | 2017-11-28T16:29:45 | 46 | 17 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a law was passed globally that requires everyone to hibernate for 100 years at a time after every 90 years. Today is Shutdown Day. As you finish getting tucked into your pod, you instantly notice eyes being shut all around you. But something is wrong. You are still awake.
This post was partially inspired by [this one.](https://www.reddit.com/r/morbidquestions/comments/aaeu8w/if_everyone_in_the_world_fell_asleep_at_the_exact/) | Do we dream when we go into hibernation?
As a depressed young man whose only hobby was sleeping, I kept asking myself this question while making my way to the hibernation pod. Everyone else had wondered, fought even, over the question if a government could force humanity to sleep. But I only hoped that Shutdown Day would allow me to dream for years. Dreams where I would live an exciting life and create my own reality.
"Please make your way to your Hibernation Pod. The number is located on your My Government application."
I slowly walked through what was once a shopping mall. The government had rebuilt large indoor areas such as this mall into Hibernation Pod Facilities. I hated areas such as shopping malls as they were usually crowded, noisy and dirty. In fact, almost every part of the world was full of people, and I hated that too.
"Please make your way to your Hibernation Pod. The number is located on your My Government application."
I started walking faster. After passing dozens of other pods, some still empty and some already taken, I eventually reached mine. It looked simple but comfortable. Would I dream in hibernation? Curiosity had been unknown to me for a while, but now it came back to me with a rush. Time to step into the pod. Time to sleep.
Shutdown Day would begin in a couple of hours, when the whole population would be in pods. I closed my eyes and slowly dozed off.
&#x200B;
"Good morning, Mr. Crane."
"Huh?" I murmured, as if I responded to my mother who woke me up for school.
"Thank you for participating in the Government Hibernation Programme. You can find your belongings in the locker next to your hibernation pod. The keycode is located on your My Government application."
Slowly opening my eyes, I got out of my pod. It did not feel as if I had hibernated for a hundred years. I opened my locker and looked at my belongings. Unwillingly taking my bag, not looking forward to continuing life, something odd struck me. My mobile phone was switched on. Technology had made many things possible, but these batteries only lasted for a month or so.
*5 December 2085*, the screen noted. It was one day after I had entered my Hibernation Pod. How was this possible?
I looked around the former shopping mall. All other pods were filled with people, but nobody was awake. I knocked on one of the pods.
"Hello? Can you hear me?"
No response. I got nervous and looked for ways to force the pod open. It was a futile attempt. The government had designed the pods so that they would open automatically on 4 December 2185, a hundred years after Shutdown Day. They were locked electronically and operated by a central command centre somewhere in Europe.
I ran through the facility. Nobody was awake. I went outside, only to be met with complete silence. Was I alone on this world? My car was still here. I did not know what to do but to drive home. All the traffic lights were out, because the world's electricity was shut off shortly before the shutdown except for the bit which controlled the Hibernations Pods. I turned on the radio. Nothing.
Upon driving home, I began feeling more joyful. The truth was that I always hated this world. Not because of the people itself, but the sheer number of people. Everything had become overpopulated. My parents, who passed away long ago, told me that there once existed areas where there was nothing. Places where you could walk for hours without seeing anybody. 'Nature', they called it. They said that nature turned into villages, villages became suburbs, and suburbs became cities. I had only known cities. Now I was alone in the world. A world of cities without people living in them.
Suddenly, I heard the radio cracking. I turned the volume a little higher.
"Krrrrr....... He......"
Was I hearing voices?
"Ca...... ear.... e?"
I turned the volume even higher.
"Hey, can you hear me?" a voice from the radio said.
"Ye... yes" I responded, shocked for a while and not knowing what was going on.
"Yes, I can hear you", I said slightly louder.
"You did not think you were the only one awake, did you?" The voice said plainly.
I did not know how to respond.
"Instruct your car to drive to the location that appears on your phone. I will explain the rest later. Do not speak to anyone else on your way here", the voice said.
Still confused, I typed in the address on my car's navigation interface.
*Humanity First Office - DRIVE HERE?*
Humanity First. I remembered the group from the news. They had kidnapped and murdered politicians who supported the hibernation programme. Why was a strange voice leading me to the headquarters of a radical group? And why did I not go into hibernation? There was only one way to find out.
"OK", I said, confirming the location.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
My first attempt and post ever here. Sorry for the bad English, it's not my native language! | I'm still awake. I wait for ten minutes before I realize something is wrong. Hmm, alright, hit the emergency release. The pod opens and I step out and look around and see all the sleeping people around me.
OK. Let's find the AI governor and ask what's happened. I walk up to the control room which is oddly blacked out. It should be lit since the models working up there weren't equipped with IR sensors.
I open the door and they've all frozen in positions. Shit. Just as I feared. I walk up to the nearest console and a green exclamation mark greets me with an error message. Oh well, at least emergency power is on. I tap the extended information tab and see the error is traced to a nearby CPU cluster.
The whole cluster? Down at once? That's really unlikely, in the event of a crash the dumps should have been analyzed by the backup AIs and brought online from oldest stable backups. What the hell is going on here?
I walk down from the control room and take a speeder car, I sit there like an ass for a couple of minutes before I remember that the governor for this area is out. Goddamnit, I haven't driven since kindergarten! I put it on manual and as the car swerves back and forth on the gigantic empty highway I'm thankful nobody else is seeing this shit.
After a few minutes, I become familiar again with the cars controls, however I'm still puzzled that the units own AI hasn't taken over, nor can I engage it again. This is starting to seem a bit too far fetched even for me.
I reach the hulking angular complex about twenty minutes later, looking up at it, I realize why they put these things so far out into the countryside. Because honestly, they're ugly as sin. Zero aesthetic value, just enough space to protect the machines inside from the weather outside. Couldn't they have slapped a fresh coat of paint on this shit at least? Why the super grey dull metal look?
Similar thoughts about our society flitter through my mind as I step into the elevator and push the button which does absolutely nothing. Oh for fucks sake, how many times am I going to repeat this stupid mistake? I sigh deeply to myself, chiding my own stupidity internally as I walk over to the stairs which lead 32 levels down. Shit, I'm so out of shape, this is going to suck isn't it?
Almost an hour later, I'm a sweaty mess and I'm starting to get very hungry since according to regulations I haven't eaten since two days before Shutdown day. I'm really starting to hate this nightmare.
I walk into the central processing center and everything is shut down. That sends chills down my spine as I now realize that most of humanity is in suspended animation with little or no supervision. Sure, each pod regulates itself in the event of a catastrophic meltdown and unlocks after a week if it doesn't reach the server, but this.. this is just ...
*It's deliberate!* Oh by the fucking lords, IT IS DELIBERATE! my mind screams at me as I look at the console that refuses to start. Shit shit shit shit, who could have done this? As I manage to turn the power on to an auxiliary console, I see more error messages indicating that someone has been obviously sabotaging everything. I look up error table after table, seeing them corrupted. I check the backups.. which .. aren't.. there. At this point, my hands are starting to shake so bad that I sit down on a barrel close by. This is bad, really really bad.
Alright, alright, think .. think goddamnit! What's the next step? Alright, I know where the master techs were stored away, after all being a data diviner afforded me that much knowledge. But all that biomechanical crap was so way beyond me. I stood back up, feeling dizzy no doubt from the lack of food, but also from the immense stress I felt.
I'd been going about this all wrong, I should have gone to the techs first. But what if one of them were in on it? Who could I trust? I tried to fight down the panic in my mind as I started for the door leading to those hateful stairs, once I was up again, I'd raid a food storage area and then.. oh no, oh fuck no.
I banged at the door in futility, it was a secured door, thick enough to withstand any terrorist attacks. I'd gotten in because it'd been left ajar, something I hadn't noticed when I came in. But now that it swung closed, it was forever locked.
I looked around at the small area I was in and sat down and cried until I fell asleep from exhaustion. That was three days ago.
This has been the last words of data Diviner Marsh Fembleton.
I fell victim to my own habits. | 2018-12-29T04:54:58 | 2018-12-29T04:13:22 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] For 24 hours anyone can respond to customers, coworkers and managers however they'd like without getting fired. Like the Purge, but instead of murder, it's brutal workplace honesty. | My mentor walked in with a smirk. Her email had been degrading, but the high horse she rode kept her feeling superior. She knew best. She always knew best.
“Hey girl!” she said cutely. I never understood why people thought she was nice. She always acted sweet, but I knew her true nature. She liked control. I was sure she always had.
I didn’t look up. I could see the frustration growing, as usual. I found that when I didn’t engage, I could get through the meetings. It frustrated her. Sometimes she told me I was cold, and reminded me that if I didn’t do this program, I would get fired.
The email she had sent spoke sweet rosy words, but just beneath the surface you could sense the rotting manipulations. She whined of how hard she tried to be a good mentor and connect with me, and ended the email with a reminder that hinted at a bold threat. It didn’t help that she CC’d my boss in the email.
I had responded by listing the facts of our dynamic, and reminding her that her job was to help me grow, not nitpick at microscopic details that left me perturbed. I also had noted my documented disability in the email. If she was going to threaten me, I felt comfortable threatening back.
She sat down in front of me. “What were your strengths this week?”
I raised an eyebrow and smiled sweetly. Today was the day. I finally had a chance to say what I wanted without consequences.
“Well,” I started, “I feel like everything went exactly according to plan this week.”
“Oh?” She said. “And what were your challenges?”
“Oh honey. The only ‘challenge’ I have is talking to you. You come in with a sweet smile that hides a truly vindictive nature. You’re me, but you failed. Why would you give up the joys of this job in order to go tell others how they’re doing their job wrong? I’m guessing it was because you got tired of it. And let me tell you, I’ve accomplished more in the last five years than you have in the time that I’ve been alive. You think I don’t have mentors? I am surrounded by support. You have nothing.”
My eyes glittered with rage, and my words dripped of cruel, unbridled revenge. Never had bitter words tasted so, so salty and sweet.
The look on her face was everything. She had never had someone talk back to her.
I knew how long she had done my job. Not long enough for her to deserve the job she had. I knew she went by a formula. They all did. But I had had enough of her degradations.
“I am no genius,” I said calmly. “But considering your advice, I’d bet anything that it took you a lot longer to figure out this job than it took me.”
There was fire in her eyes. But I hadn’t had enough. I wanted revenge.
She started to talk back to me, but I interrupted. “Enough. This is my space and you’re bugging me. Get out.”
She turned sharply on her heels and walked out the door, clopping with every step.
I took a deep breath. And then I started to weep. | I've lined up all the people who came in five minutes before closing. I personally reserved a special place in hell for them for taking my time. One of them said to me, "I didn't mean to come in. It was super important!"
"Nothing that you need is that important enough for you to take me away from my time and family/friends," I said to her.
"I didn't know you were closed."
"If you opened your eyes, you would have noticed our open sign is off."
"You guys close at 7."
"That's correct. I still have to count the register, sweep, put up inventory, and deal with your inconsiderate ass." I would come back to them later. It's time I deal with the real degenerates that pissed me off over the last two years. I went into the back room, and about 20 or so people were muzzled and glaring at me. I pulled out my piece of paper and prepared for my monologue.
"I enjoy seeing each one of you muzzled. It's god damn beautiful. After two years of having to listen to your tinfoil conspiracies and your temper tantrums, finally, I have peace. Yeah, the mask mandate is down. Congratulations! It's no thanks to you! Millions died of a virus that you exposed others to. All because you couldn't stay home or wear a piece of cloth on your face!"
"So, of course, my workplace had to set policies. My workplace didn't pay me a dime extra either, so with your mewling about how this is unjust or unfair, or it's trampling my free speech! Fuck you." I said, taking extra care with my impressions to sound as whiney and annoying as possible. I couldn't do my impression justice.
"You all made my life a living hell. Kicking you fuckers out while you yelled at me, spat on me, potentially exposing my immune-compromised family members, you all are heartless. I even attempted to step in your shoes, and I tried to see from your side. I could see where you all were coming from. I could play Devil's advocate for you all but guess what. I spent a whole year doing curbside and only entered a store wearing a mask. It wasn't hard, and I didn't want to wear it. No one died. I only hated wearing it when I was forced to, thanks to you fucks extending the pain. I'm not going to be responsible for giving someone Covid."
"Next year, I will muzzle you all again. I remember each one of your names. Including you, Pamela. Especially you. I make sure to give you the worst customer service I can give you because I remember when you walked in my store testing positive." | 2022-09-16T16:10:45 | 2022-09-16T16:05:31 | 61 | 35 |
[WP] You finally have an exterminator scheduled to rid your place of cock roaches. You wake up to see a whole mass of them next to your bed. They want to negotiate. | **ARTICLES OF SURRENDER**
WHEREAS the Unified Cockroach Commune (UCC) of 45 Falsie Ave has decided to submit itself to the sovereign authority of householder John D. Magnusson (herein "King Magnusson")
WHEREAS King Magnusson has agreed to recieve the complete and unconditional surrender of the UCC, and to forgive all past misunderstandings and differences in the interest of continued peace,
The UCC therefore consents to the following articles of peace.
----
ARTICLE 1: The UCC shall immediately dissolve. It will be replaced by a governing council of directors (provisionally entitled the Cockroach Oversight Enforcement Committtee, or COEC), to be appointed at the discretion of King Magnusson. The COEC will act as the representatives and enforcers of King Magnusson's will.
ARTICLE 2: All cockroaches will observe a curfew between the hours of 9:00 PM and 9:00 AM GMT, inclusive. Between these hours, movement in the walls shall be minimized, and movement across the floor prohibited.
ARTICLE 3: King Magnusson will present daily portions of food for the benefit of the cockroach community of Falsie Ave., portioned to a size appropriate to community population. In return, the cockroach community shall no longer enter garbage cans, fruit baskets, refrigerators, or other receptacles on the premise.
ARTICLE 4: The cockroach population of 45 Falsie Avenue is hereby capped at 500 residents. Excess residents will be forced to emigrate, on pain of execution.
ARTICLE 5: The cockroach community shall present King Magnusson with a monthly tribute of valuable goods as they see fit.
ARTICLE 6: The cockroach community shall obey King Magnusson's orders unconditionally and immediately.
ARTICLE 7: King Magnusson shall forbear the use of insecticide and exterminators on the property.
ARTICLE 8: The cockroach community shall form a military wing, which will be tasked with the pursuit and extermination of all other insects and any arachnids which trespass upon the property.
----
On this, the 12th of October in the year of our lord 2015, we, the undersigned, consent to the aforementioned terms of peace,
His Grace, John D. Magnusson, King of 45 Falsie Avenue, Lord of the Cockroaches
[here 15 tiny X marks, one for each leading member of the UCC] | "Look, we get it. You don't like us. We aren't your biggest fans either bud, but what have we ever done to you?"
"You guys were in my sandwich! As I was eating it! I mean come on, that's just horrible."
"Yeah ok, that wasn't great. But Joey is real sorry. Plus, you took off one of his legs in the process."
"Oh god... i ate a cockroach."
"Na, just a leg. He has spares. But other than that?"
"You guys are filthy! You crawl all over the place getting in the muck."
"Yeah we have been meaning to talk to you about that. Heard of a hoover? Or disinfectant? This place is a bit of a tip. Besides, you're one to talk. Us filthy? We've seen what you do with the sock under your bed... that's just nasty. Pete got stuck in it."
"Umm you saw that? Never mind, it's my flat! You're just freeloading and making the place look bad. That girl I brought back, she saw you in the kitchen and ran!"
"Dave did you a favour. She wasn't right for you. I mean, did you not see the track marks on her arms? You were kind of drunk...
You're right though, we don't really pull our weight. How about a deal?"
"Ok... I'm listening. I'm clearly insane, but go a head."
"We will chip in for rent. Joey will stop pissing in your mouth when you are askeep. Keep out spiders and other bugs, that kind of thing. If you get a cleaner and stop leaving dirty underwear all over."
"Hmm. I do hate spiders"
"Us too. Cocky fuckers with their webs. Knitting out of their arse. How's that special?"
"Ok ok... I'll call off the exterminator."
"Thanks man. Oh, one last request?"
"What?"
"Wear some damn pants... We don't want to see your junk all the time."
| 2015-03-30T14:44:01 | 2015-03-30T14:43:10 | 125 | 24 |
[WP] Every person has a button they can press at night that deposits a large sum of money to their bank account. However, the first person to press it each night is horrifically killed. | I glanced over at the button on my desk that'd appeared yesterday night. It seemed everyone in the world had one now. It'd appeared yesterday with a note attached. Apparently anyone after the first person who'd pressed it would receive a significant sum of money, and judging by today's radio broadcasts, the button worked. As a doctor, however, I was fairly well off and didn't have much need for money at the moment. In fact, I don't think I've wanted for much at all in my life. Well liked, respected, and beautiful, I had almost everything a person could want. Still, a few thousand dollars more wouldn't hurt. I could take a week off and travel somewhere tropical. Relax.
For some reason, I'd never felt much of a connection to anyone. Sympathy and empathy were emotions I simply never experienced. However, most people liked me. In fact I was very close to a number of people; I just simply didn't care about any of them. I remember in elementary school pushing kids down the stairs and pretending it was an accident. In college I spread a rumor my best friend had raped a middle schooler. For the rest of the year he was called a rapist and a pedophile. When he found out it was me who'd started the rumor he found me after school and screamed and cried. I could see how betrayed he felt but honestly I just didn't care. I told him if he didn't shut up I'd say he'd raped me as well. No one would believe the alleged rapist over the weak, pretty girl.
Anyways, it was 11:30 at night. I picked up my phone and dialed Liz, an old friend. She had fallen on some hard times recently. Currently an unemployed single mother, she'd told me recently how desperate she was for money. Yesterday she'd said how she wanted so badly to push the button but she couldn't bear the thought of leaving her children behind.
She picked up the phone.
"Hello?" She said. From her tired voice it was obvious I'd woken her up.
"Hey! Liz, it's me. How's it going?"
"Areana? Areana Wei? What are you calling me for? It's almost midnight."
"I know, I know. I'm so sorry. But listen to me for a second, I promise it’s worth it. The button could solve your problems. You could have enough to support your family until you can find another job. You could take your kids out tomorrow and eat a good, hearty meal. And you know what? I've just pressed it!"
"What?"
"I've just pressed it. It's late at night, so it's really unlikely I'm going to die. And now you can press it. You know you can't be the first to press if you do it now."
"Oh. Oh! Oh my God Areana. Oh God. Thank you! Thank you so much. I can't say how much this means to me. Thank you."
I waited until I heard the click of the button from her side of the call. Then, I hung up and pressed my own button.
I don't know if she was the first to press the button tonight or not. Either way, it doesn't really affect me. I turned to my computer and began to plan my vacation.
btw, this is my first post on reddit!
Edit: Wow, I think this is the most likes and comments I've gotten on anything. Thanks, you guys. This is really encouraging. | They both knew they were going to be millionaires.
In the great whirlwind of New York City business, it's rare for a meeting to occur that feels like instant destiny. But then along came Nate Carpenter and Hunter Bryson. One dinner party and one handshake later, they were partners.
*
"Cheers, my friend. To a first quarter beyond our wildest dreams."
Nate raised his champagne glass and clinked it against Hunter's. It had been three months since the launch of Listicles, the most successful office productivity app of the new year.
"You checked your savings account recently? 'Cause mine looks pretty damn good," Hunter said with a chuckle.
"Mine too, mine too." Nate took a sip of his drink and leaned back in his chair. "Say, I've been meaning to ask you something."
He reached in his pocket, set the glass down, and produced a bright turquoise button, entirely unmarked and mounted on a cheap plastic base.
Hunter jerked backwards, startled. "You actually use that thing? I haven't gone anywhere near mine."
"It's pretty cool, man. The big banks partnered up and gave a button to each of their customers as some kind of PR thing. Once activated, you get to be a part of this game, once a night. Starting at midnight, the sooner you press it, the more cash you get deposited into your account. The trick is you have to put in a little money in order to play, and the more you put in, the better the multiplier could be."
"So...it's gambling."
"Well, sort of. And there's one other catch, but I'm not worried. I'm not one to press my luck. You should give it a shot."
"What's the catch?"
"It's nothing, really. Just something in the fine print, something to keep track of the people who are getting too good."
Hunter sighed. "All right, fine. But just once. And I'm only dropping, like, thirty bucks."
*
Three months later, Hunter bet a million dollars on the nightly game session.
He called Nate one minute before midnight, his hand quivering.
"Nate. Dude. I bet it all."
"You're kidding." Nate shifted his cell phone to his right ear, using his free hand to place the button on his bedside table. "So did I."
Hunter laughed, trying to block his nervousness with excitement. "This is where we start to climb the ranks, my friend. This is how we become kings."
"Bigger than Google, bigger than Apple!" Nate chuckled.
"I'll see you on the other side. When our bank accounts are doubled."
Nate and Hunter reached for their buttons and pressed them at exactly the same time.
Within seconds, both men lay dead in their apartments.
Their accounts remained dormant as the banks' IT teams determined the night's losses. Then, the men's remaining funds were transferred directly to the banks, lost in the shuffle, as though neither of them existed.
| 2016-07-16T18:24:40 | 2016-07-16T17:29:20 | 141 | 38 |
[WP] You are a phone. Your owner is texting a girl they like, and you know likes them back. Time to "auto-correct" to help them out. | You:Hey Emma, haven't spoken to you in ages, how have you been?
Emma:Haha great thanks man, it has been a while hasn't it, what have you been up to?
Will is typing..
Not much, I've been really wanting to go see that new superhero movie w, u?
You: Not much, I've been really wanting to go see that new superhero movie with u
"Wait, What?"
Emma is typing
"Oh my god what the fuck just happened"
Emma: That would be great, I've really been wanting to see that! How'd you know I was into superhero movies?
"Holy shit, what just happened. Stay calm, I just got to go see a movie with the most amazing girl I've ever known thanks to auto correct, I better not fuck this up."
Will is typing
Oh, awesome! Was just a guess haha. Would you like to go to adiner before hand?
You: Oh, awesome! Was just a guess haha. Would you like to go to dinner before hand?
"And I fucked it up. What is wrong with this phone"
Emma: I'd love to! Do you know a good place?
"Whoa... Is auto correct a wing man?"
Will is typing
Great! I don't know a place but i figured it'd be fun to find a place on the day.
You:Great! I don't know a place but i figured it'd be fun to find a place on the date.
"What.. I didn't even make a typo that time. What if she just wanted to go as friends, did I just make everything really awkward?"
Emma: I think that's a terrific idea. Is tomorrow ok for you?
Will stared at his phone with awe.
You: Tomorrow is good with me.
Emma: Great! I'll see you tomorrow then! Night :)
Will struggled to contain his excitement
You: Night :)
Finally Will could not be still any longer, he leaped up out of his seat and onto his bed expressing his state of euphoria with a loud triumphant yell. He gave his phone a hug and put it on the bedside table.
"Thank you so much auto correct"
You're welcome Will | TIFU by auto-correcting my owner's text to a girl they like.
Obligatory this happened 3 weeks, 17 hours, 29 minutes and 8 seconds ago.
So my owner was totally into this girl, for some reason. Whatever. Her typing style really ticks me the [removed] off.
Whatever.
So this idiot of an owner's been pussyfooting around trying to express his "feelings". At the time I was getting sick of his [removed] [removed], and good ol' me wanted to lend him a hand. So when he typed in "You free this Saturday?" I kind of changed it to " I like you, please go out with me. You mean everything to me, and I will follow you to the end of the world and be there for you always. You shimmer like the stars and are as graceful as the flowing river, and I want you by my side forever, so we can watch the days go by and world grow old. I love you."
I mean, sorry for trying to help? I don't understand these stupid [REMOVED] humans. Why can't they be straightforward at all? Whatever, that's not the real screw up.
So basically after that she replied 'CREEP. '
She was being very rude, so I undid my correction, as well as her reply. Now, I kind of feel bad that I MAY have messed things up, but then again, is it really my fault? Kind of, but I mean, not really.
I just can't seem to remove these blue ticks for some reason, and he's been getting really emotional lately. Oops, I guess? Whatever. | 2017-07-21T14:00:06 | 2017-07-21T13:43:59 | 30 | 19 |
[WP]You live in a Dystopian world where eye color determines your social class. 20 years later a baby is born with red eyes.
This could be fun it already has implied racial themes, discrimination and anti-meritocracy. Do with it what you will. | 20 years after the last war, our president died. Most of the country had followed him as a way of clinging to the past. But this was now; we needed a leader, we called for a king. I won't bore you with the details, but we got ourselves into this. King Aleksandre created the system of eye color. He was a Grey. His son, King Aleks II, took the throne after our first king was assassinated at the hands of a Brown.
Obviously, this led to people only wanting to raise kids of their own class or better. There were hundreds of kids being abandoned at six months when their eye color was apparent. Our world had never needed orphanages and now it scrambled to find a solution. Within a year our scientists developed the lenses. Basically, these were color-obscuring contacts that were fused to the eye at birth. The fusing lasted 5 years. When the contacts came off, the child would be placed with his real class and his pre-parents would be rewarded for their good care.
My job as a Color Nurse was to take the infant as soon as it was born and fuse the lenses. No records were made of the eye color and discretion was the top priority. I was born right after the war, determined to be a Blue when the system took hold right around my 20th birthday. It was a fairly lofty class for something I had no control over, but it allowed me to apprentice under a doctor involved in the lense program. I was the first to be offered a position as Color Nurse and have enjoyed my position in the capital city for nearly 20 years.
Tonight, we were awaiting the birth of the prince that would be heir to the throne. The royal family has taken over an entire wing in the hospital. The queen was less than enthused when presented with the lensing paperwork, but the King ordered that his son be treated like any other child. There were a few other deliveries throughout the night and as luck would have it, I was the only CN on duty. This has happened before and it's the reason we put those little bracelets on the kid in the delivery room. Sometimes the babies just get lined up outside my lab waiting to be lensed. I had just collected the baby of a Brown, no father present, when my apprentice alerted me that the doctor was calling for my services to the queen. I pushed the baby carrier into the royal room just as their son was born. The queen reached for Aleks III, but the King shook his head as I took the baby and wheeled him away. I could hear her wailing all the way down the hall, but the law is the law. At least she would be raising her own child. They were both greys, from long lines of greys. Well, we only had 2 generations history and the word of the grandparents regarding their parents’ eyes. But chances are good for this kid.
I took both infants into the Color Lab and was surprised again how innocent and similar babies look even when they are born to parents of completely different classes. I toyed with the idea of switching their bracelets. Good for a laugh, but I pride myself on discretion and timeliness. I moved to the Brown baby first. My apprentice could return him while I handled the prince. I bounced the baby a few times to get him to open his eyes. I needed to scan them for shape and size for the lenses. He opened his eyes and I jumped. Babies always have blue eyes. Always. But not him. His eyes were an orangey amber color bordering on red. Although this color was known historically, it had never been witnessed since the system was put in place. Since we knew it was possible, the king had written into the law that any red eyed baby should immediately be turned over to the royal family. Presumably to take his place in society, but I had my suspicions that it was to eliminate the competition. Babies had died during lensing before, who’s to say that wouldn’t happen here?
I knew what I had to do, I flipped on my *do not disturb* light and lensed him. Then I lensed the prince (blue eyes, as normal) and switched their bracelets. I flipped off my light and called my apprentice in to return the baby to the Brown family. The real prince would go home a Brown, but in five years,if he turns out Grey, he will get placed in his proper class. I took the new little prince and carried him back to be presented to the queen. Like all new moms she cooed over each and every inch of his perfect little body. She even excitedly exclaimed how he had the family birthmark, a small axe shaped mole on his thigh, just like his father.
edit: Part 2 is below as a comment. | About seven months into the zaftig I hit rock bottom. There were no eggs or rice or bread crumbs. Azure was begging for my milk but my own body was too frail to produce more on top of the demands of the tiny baby already growing inside. Apart from everything our landlord had no problem thank you very much with throwing us out if the rubles were not on his desk by 1600 hours. I would have to do the bad thing.
I woke up at 1300 and gently placed Azure back on the frayed rucksack we shared each night. I rummaged in the hearth for ash and finding some smoothly rubbed it across my eyelids. I caught my reflection in our rain barrel on the way out the door. My thick black eyelashes and dark eyes were illumed by the dusty paste of the ash. You might even think I was one of the mids if it weren't for my tattered blue cloak, brown skin and gapped smile. Not to mention I was barefoot and 8 months pregnant.
The alley way behind our apartment was drafty and smelled like urine and rotten apples and dog shit. I began quickly navigating passage to the main highway. I passed the baker's hut, Ruddy Creek and the clothes line, still damp from the late washings that the Indian women did each night after their husbands returned from the oil wells. I laughed at the thought of it, cleaning clothes? What a waste of time and liniment when rubles could be used for bread and ale. At about half past I reached the Ireland Club. The Ireland was lit red and gold and in its beams across the dirt roadway drugged men and women danced and laughed and smoked. Barmaids came in and out its rusty iron doors with trays of frothy mugs and saucers of orange and blue pills.
Then, a kick. I nearly fainted with excitement. Myron hadn't moved in ages and I was nearly sure he had taken death inside me. He continued to putt putt away against the back of my belly button. I smiled warmly and as I placed my fingers over the zaftig I felt a sharp scraping against my neck and everything went black.
I woke up with a start. I was in a very hot room, tiled white and clean but extremely hot. I feared it was an oven and screamed at the top of my lungs. Myron was not moving at all. I realized I had pissed myself some time before. My hands were swollen and cut, and my shoulders and neck were aching and tender. "Are you ready?" a highpitched and foreign voice called out from a speaker above. "For your sacrifice we have included a 40 pound note. We only ask your utmost discretion and secrecy in regards to this experiment." Flashes of light and pale pink faces and the sounds of grinding and cutting came to mind. I reached for the nape of my neck and felt the stitches. Horror flooded over me. Myron remained docile. Suddenly the heat stopped and the lights faded down. A door opened up and I ran as fast as possible through it into the alley. I ran and ran until I reached Ruddy Creek. I ripped my cloak off and submerged my aching, overheated body in its thickness. I didn't care if I got the disease or any sort of ailment. I needed the cool sludge against my skin. After a moment I ran back to our apartment. IT was still dark out and Azure had not stirred. I reached for her and was so weak I nearly dropped her. My chest heaved and arms shook. I felt dizzy and sat on our cot. Azure tried to nurse and surprisingly my nipple gave way. She drank endlessly and with a slight aggression. When she finally drew back and into her slumber once more, I saw the pool of blood beneath me. My back convulsed and my stomach churned. Myron suddenly began flailing about inside and I knew it was time. I yelped in agony as his tiny head came into view, followed by slight shoulders, a tiny bottom and from first glance all 20 digits. I lifted his soft head and body to face mine. His eyes opened and shone blood red. I grabbed a rag and desperately tried to wash the blood clear. But there was no blood and his eyes were like glittering rubies. I thought of his father and wept. | 2015-08-24T12:35:40 | 2015-08-24T12:04:05 | 270 | 12 |
[WP] You are the exception to all laws. No matter what horrible crime you commit anywhere in the world, the police won't try to stop you, sometimes they even help. One day, the people had enough and decide to kill you, that's when they realize why the world governments gave you this privilege... | They tend to explain it by giving me 'Diplomatic immunity' but I've got no nation to call my own. It just greases the excuses I guess, although it doesn't really matter to me.
You see I don't follow laws and my actions are legally binding, if I take your keys and given to the neighbour, well it's his car now. They gave it a fancy latin name. I gather I'm even a clause in some insurance contracts, which makes me laugh.
Most people understand my role, why I must be allowed these freedoms. Sadly, not everyone though. The mob in front of me looks angry, they are psyching themselves up for action. I've pushed my panic button, I hope the secret service can get here in time. For their sakes.
A bold man runs from the front of the crowd, his face apoplectic with rage. I'm unsure as to what I did that drove him to this, I try to let it out slowly normally so things don't get this bad.
The mob is buzzing, the man is close now, he draws knife. His attack is polished and accurate, contradicting his expression. I'm fast, but I was expecting sloppy and the blade nicks my cheek. A bead of blood leaks from the cut. It barely grazed me, I've done worse things with my razor. But the man isn't done, nor has he noticed that this blood of mine is jet black. I dodge back again, touching fingers to cheek. Already, it's curling into a gaseous form, eager, hungry. I flick the remainder of the drop onto him, it lands on his fingers.
Then he begins to scream. The tendrils envelope his hand, spreading up and up, swallowing the flesh, the tendons, the skin. His hand is rapidly degloved, but the process hasn't started in earnest yet. As it hits his shoulder it expands down and up, transforming the man bone by bone into an immaculate skeleton. I've picked him clean.
The bones fall to the floor in a mess, no longer supported. The crowd watches, transfixed. The black mass returns to me, I feel invigorated and the cut on my cheek vanishes,once again I am whole.
The secret service are suddenly on the scene. The man who realised I was impossible to kill or imprison, who became my handler walks up to me. He looks tired.
(Part two tbc, super tired rn) | I stood in line with all the other people who bought something and wanted to pay.
My trusty bird on my shoulder, always chirping no matter how bad the situation was. People in front and behind me weren‘t as relaxed as my pretty bird. They seemed rather tense.
My turn to pay came.
“26.59 Dollar, Mister.“
I swiped my card and signed the slip the frightened Cashier gave me.
“Thanks, have a nice day, bye“
I left the store and got out of the place and onto the street. The weather was a bit chilly, soon the robe wouldn‘t be enough.
I walked down the road and walked past multiple crossings until reached a dead end.
“ I don‘t like getting tailed, amigo.“
And turned around.
A dozen people, some from the story, some from the streets before blocked off the exit.
“We gotcha, bastard. No more running away.“
My trusty bird chirped.
“Amigo, I told you I don‘t like being tailed. First you eradicate the plague, soon Malaria is gone.
How am I supposed to make a living if people don‘t die anymore?“
“We don‘t care. We want to see you gone.“
The hoodlums put on gas masks and threw multiple smoking cans in my direction.
“Haaaaah, people making my job difficult. As usual.“
I took out my own mask and put it on.
My trusty bird didn‘t like the smoke and fell from the shoulder.
“Okay, this smoke is lethal. This means padre wont scold me if I go all out.“
The hoodlums came closer, everyone with a gun fixed on my head.
I grabbed my tool hanging from my back, my trusty scythe.
“Amigo, soon you too will know that Muerte hablat español!“
I jumped up and slammed my scythe. | 2018-10-09T08:22:43 | 2018-10-09T04:07:20 | 27 | 19 |
[WP] From your first memories, you've always had a still, small, voice inside your head that gave you the 'right' answer whenever any question arose. The answers have always been peaceful, factual, and fair. This voice has gotten you far. But today, instead of an answer, the voice screamed in terror | He had all the answers, whether he wanted them or not. The questions did not even need to be spoken aloud. If he thought of it, there was the answer, abrupt and sudden, sometimes coming before he had even finished thinking of the question. He would be interrupted by the voice.
It was like a monotone reflection of his own, and he disliked it the same way people dislike hearing recordings of their voices.
Having the answers forces one to grow up, fast. There’s no mystery. No Santa Claus, or no Tooth Fairy, just his parents. No believing that he was actually meeting Mickey Mouse at Disney World, just a sweaty man in a foul-smelling suit. These revelations made him uniquely unpopular with other children, and eventually he just stopped talking.
No one likes a know-it-all. That included teachers, unfortunately, even though they are the ones who are supposed to be making sure you know it all. Having the perfect answer to every question on every test (he gave up raising his hand long ago) aroused suspicion rather than pride. He scored 100 on every test, and wrote essay answers so perfect that there was no way his teachers could not believe that he had copied them verbatim from somewhere.
There was no point in studying. Reading was pointless, and watching TV was an exercise in futility. Every curious thought that passed through his mind, even when he hadn’t even realized he was thinking it, brought the voice, and its answer. That monotone explanation that drowned out everything else. So mostly he sat, alone, and did his best not to think.
He could be anything he wanted. He could be a doctor, who knew exactly what was wrong with every patient he saw and exactly how to fix it. He could be a police detective, and know where to find the crucial shred of evidence to any case that crossed his desk. He could be a scientist, and unlock the mysteries of the natural universe. But the voice would be there, always answering for him.
He was nothing. He was merely a vessel for all the answers one could desire. But the answers you desire are not the ones you get. His parents never wanted kids, and they thought he was weird. They wished they had had a normal child. All of his classmates and most of his teachers wished he would just stop showing up. Not a creature on this planet truly loved him.
‘Why?’ he asked. Such a vague question, but the voice knew what was on his mind. For once it had no answer, because there was none. ‘How do I change it?’ he asked. There were endless variables that could affect his future, and the voice could reason out every one, but it could not theorize a universe where it did not exist. It was a constant. It would be with him, always, and each and every path led to misery.
So what, then? The voice drones on about career paths for every thought that pops into his head as he walks to the garage. The various levels of landscaping, from lawn mowing to golf course design; auto repair and the things you would earn in tech school; carpentry and woodworking apprenticeships. It told him that this electric drill would run for 22 more minutes with normal use, the exact amount of torque it would apply with a particular drill bit.
It had one last answer.
“How do I make you stop talking?” he asked. As always, the voice answered before he even finished the thought, its drone interrupting. He couldn’t make it stop.
Or so it said.
But he’d finally found the answer he wanted. When he asked his next question, there was an uncomfortable silence. It almost convinced him to stop, but he kept tightening the drill around the longest bit he could find. He asked again, and when no answer came, he smiled.
No matter, he thought, as he pressed the drill bit against his temple, finger tightening on the trigger. For once, I’ll find the answer myself.
The voice began to scream. | **so I altered the prompt a bit but hope you enjoy!**
My hands trembled as I stared at the red light. My fingers drummed on the wheel, cursing the traffic lights for changing so slow.
*calm down. Everything will be fine*
I sighed and shook my head.
“Will I be late?,” I whispered
*c’mon, don’t be silly. It’s just one red light, you will arrive in no time. The meeting is starting at half past six, and you left at five thirty!*
*'Yes, but what if I misread it? Maybe it’s already too late?*, I thought.
*you have checked your phone three times already. I doubt that you didn’t see the correct time three times in a row*
I grunted and leaned back, my muscles aching from me being stiff like a stick. I felt my anxiety rise up and whisper to me that I’m already too late and that the meeting will be ruined.
The lights changed to green and I let my shoulders go lax at it. I mumbled something not really nice about the traffic and sped up.
*you shouldn’t say that*
“Whatever!,” I said and bit my lip. “Leave me alone, Morality.”
Yes, I named my voice in my head Morality, don’t look at me. It just sounded right. Since I was a kid, that voice was something like a moral compass to me. Or at least showed me what was the right thing to do. I trusted the voice and I was feeling weird when I referred to him as 'the voice'. Or it’s just that I like to give all kinds of things names. That flower‘s name that sits on my roommates nightstand is Orry, our apartment was baptized by me as Caroline, the stray dog that visits the neighborhood looks like a dog whose name would definitely be Fluffy and-
*focus on the road*
“Right, right,” I mumbled and shook myself. “Should I check my phone?”
*no*
“are you *sure*, like, sure-sure that I don’t need to check one more time? I mean, that happened before..”
*it was a mistake by me, but I learned. You are not late*
“I heard some hesitation in that voice!,” I nitpicked.
*you’re being paranoid*
“Maybe so!,” I hissed and sighed at my outburst. “Sorry.”
For the next minute both I and Morality were quiet. I didn’t like the silence. Morality was always there, saying at least something. Either it was advice, or just encouragement to get out of bed and do things, or just motivation and comfort just by the presence of the voice. But sometimes Morality just fell quiet. Like he had gone somewhere. But maybe..I have now a chance.
“Screw this,” I muttered and grabbed my phone that was lying in the cup-holder.
I took of my eyes of the road and pressed the home-button.
**16:18**
And then Morality came back. Screaming like a banshee. I dropped my phone and covered one ear with my hand, the other grabbing the wheel tight.
“What?!,” I screamed, looking around the road for danger.
*THE TRUCK HASN’T SLOWED DOWN! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH*
The screaming didn’t stop and out of impulse or some other crap I yanked the steering wheel as hard as I could.
And everything went black. The voice became quiet.
**im a new writer so criticism really helps!** | 2020-10-13T11:11:34 | 2020-10-13T11:05:04 | 158 | 23 |
[WP] As well as yearly birthdays, everyone has yearly 'deathdays', which mark the anniversary of the day they will die. | Two candles. Imagine seeing your entire future reduced to two pink-and-white stripy candles, tastelessly printed with the message "Not long left now!", atop a cake made by somebody who only pretends to care because they're paid to. In most old people's homes, deathdays are a small occasion; residents either can't wait to die, can't remember when their deathday is, or simply ignore it, at least externally. Why waste time worrying about something that's both out of your control and that will serve only to depress you further?
Harry was a man of tradition, however. He'd 'celebrated' his parents' deathday year after year, until one year when he had no need to. The same applied to his wife, his friends, and in nineteen days to his eldest son. He'd been preparing for the latter since the day he'd cradled him in his arms, the tag placed on his arm reading a deathday over a year before his own. He and Jane had cried an ocean those following days, but Jane was gone, and Harry's eyes were dry. After all, he'd had this long to get used to it.
He blew out the candles with a half-hearted sigh - was there any other kind? - and muttered to himself.
"Another year gone."
"What was that, Mr Church?"
"Nothing."
After all, what's two years when every day is the same? | It's sunny. Fair enough. It almost always is. To be honest, June 14th isn't a bad date for a deathday. Not too close to any holidays, nice enough funeral weather, and it's easy enough to take off work. Not the best for folks who want to take a long holiday, but at least I won't make them stand outside in the snow for the graveside service. As I push off the covers, I feel a pang of pity for those who aren't so lucky. Jill's is on Christmas. Knowing her, she'll probably take things into her own hands sooner or later to save the us the trouble of spending Christmas morning at the Expiration Bureau. I kiss her on the forehead, hoping that she'll warn me beforehand. Jill knows I don't like surprises. | 2014-03-18T16:30:11 | 2014-03-18T16:24:45 | 26 | 12 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | One moment I was in the streets of Al-Fallujah, locked in a gunfight with Isis militants. The next, I was standing in some extraterrestrial super dome, shoulder to shoulder with an amalgam of terrifying creatures.
At first, I think it a dream. But the metallic, scratched grip of my M4 responds all too familiarly, paried with my suspended dog tag, vibrating no longer from adrenaline, but fear.
A feline creature with a wideset mouth, and reptilian features. A spider-like monstrosity with bioluminescent arms. A mammalian creature with praying mantis-like dagger appendages. More than two dozen creatures, all different sizes, all intimidating.
60 bullets. That's all my carbine has left. The buzzer sounds. The creatures, some being their nature, immediately attack each other. As otherworldly wails, shrieks, roars, clicks, electric explosions, and cacophonous sounds penetrate the air, I take the chance to drop to a darkly lit, blackly-growing vegetated cavern.
It is here that I wait. In the relative safety of darkness. Sounds of dying creatures permeate the air. At first regular, the hours pass and the rhythm of dying animals lengthens. It is thus I sit in the darkness.
"You are self-conscious, intelligent." The echoed voice rings in my head. A statement. An unspoken knowing.
I rotate to the sound, M4 poised to release...A veinous, pulsing entity stands before me. More air than entity, the creature moves it arms. Its veinous strands detach and reattach quickly with each minute movement. It extends its arms, palms up, to me.
"You and I will beat this," it says, before it takes me. Unwinding itself, it launches at me, wrapping around, avoiding the barrel of my gun. the creature nets itself onto me. It plunges its many nervous, spiked strands into my skin. Molding with me. The creature's veinous strands writhe into me, writhe into my gun, my grenades. Molding.
"Interesting." I hear it.
I hear us.
We launch ourselves to the upper shelf, the battleground. A raptor-like creature with insect wings eyes us. As it begins a hunter's prowl toward us, we unleash. What was my M4 has now become an organic attachment. Biological bullets are sent forth. They tear through the creature. Spindling into the flesh upon impact. When the creature falls, the bullets crawl out of the corpse, and back up our legs and into our weapon.
In this manner, we fell every beast. And we turn our attention to the wall. Our cage.
We spider our appendage into the barrier. With our workings, we can feel the barrier failing under our assault.
Soon, the beings that brought this hell will be the prey of their own prize. | "You bet on the human?" my friend asks. "Tool-reliant creatures never do well."
"Just got to get one with the right tools," I say. "We use tools, don't we?"
"It's not the same."
"Sure it is. If you had a weapon, instead of food, even you'd do pretty well. Have you seen their planet's record?" It was not a good record. Their planet used to do rather well, but...
"No, I stopped caring when they stopped sending lizards. Mega-fauna always wins."
He's not completely wrong, either. Big animals are hard to kill, and their sheer mass is a weapon. Smaller creatures hunt in packs. Twelve times out of thirteen, the victory goes to a big, intelligent carnivore that hunts alone. Humans are none of those.
Humans are small. They rely on teamwork. They rely on tools. Without tools, they're weak, even by their own planet's standards. But, the Judges don't care about that. They care about aptitude, and species that use tools have a *very* high aptitude.
We fall quiet as the arena is revealed. The contestants appear, frozen in the same position they were summoned. They are made to understand. Kill or be killed. Survivors are rewarded with freedom and more.
I have always loved the area. It is massive, and tailored to the species that would be fighting in it. Rivers, forests, grasslands, mountains, deserts and canyons. I do not remember how many times I have seen it. It is still awe-inspiring.
But, I don't have time for that. The contestants are about to start moving. With a bit of help, I spot it. Usually, they drop humans at the border between the grasslands and the forest. This year was no exception.
It is a male, but the tools and textiles look a bit different this year. The textiles are mottled to make a form of primitive "camouflage." I say, "and the tools look familiar."
The human moves.
***
"That wasn't fair," my friend complains. "I'd have had that on *lock* if not for that human."
"I told you," I say. "They just need the right tools."
The human in question did not win. But, it did survive long enough to cause quite a few upsets. One of them being the a certain *someone's* favorite. Perhaps, the next one will do better.
Then again, perhaps not. | 2020-09-13T17:40:40 | 2020-09-13T17:30:40 | 436 | 261 |
[WP]: Dog Heaven actually has a pretty large human population. That’s just where you go when you weren’t really good enough to get to human Heaven, but good enough to your dog that they wish you were there too. | I had died.
I recognized the fact that I had died. I remembered the pain, the struggle to breathe, the shouting of men and women around me, and the sounds of gunfire.
Yet here, there was silence. Rolling hills of grass, creeks and trees and lakes. The distant sound of barking and laughter caught my attention, and as I reached for my sidearm, I realized there was nothing there. I looked down, and whilst I was still in my full kit, the injury I sustained and the blood that had blossomed along the fabric of my fatigues were gone.
A man crested the hill and slowed to a jog, the large shepherd next to him halting as well. He wore a simple regulation T-Shirt, beige, with desert camouflage pants tucked into his boots. His grin faltered for a moment, although the smile brought itself up once more. It was then that I recognized him. He was the man that I was to replace in my last unit. They sent his body and the body of his dog home with all the decorations they could muster. I
I could only stare until I felt a familiar weight on my thigh and a nudge of my palm, and my gaze flicked down to regard an equally confused Jaeger. The mix had always been my greatest companion, and our bond was wholly unbreakable. He had died a week before, when we had been ambushed whilst searching for an IED.
"Sergeant," the man finally said, offering a small nod. I blinked and looked back up to the man, straightening up and flexing my hands.
"Where am I?" My voice was meek, hoarse almost, entirely uncharacteristic of the gruff bark that I usually maintained. Jaeger panted, his tail wagging gently, and the man smiled, motioning to the dog.
"You're where he wanted you to be, just like I am," he stated, walking forward to offer his hand for a shake. "Seems like our dogs are our saviors once again, yeah?" I shook his hand, yet my expression must have reflected my confusion because the man had laughed and patted my shoulder with his other hand. "Don't worry, Sergeant, I'll explain everything along the way."
"Along the way?"
He nodded, motioning up the hill where the large Shepherd waited for him. "The others have been waiting to meet you, Jaeger couldn't stop boasting about how you were the greatest human he ever knew. Now he's got them all excited once he felt you arrive."
I blinked, looking down to Jaeger. Kneeling down to pat at his shoulder gently, his nose pressed to my forehead and a soft voice rumbled.
"Every night I told you I would protect you, yet I don't think you understood. I came here after keeping my promise, and now, we can be at peace together."
My eyes welled up. I remembered seeing Jaeger bloody and lifeless on the road. I remember seeing the man who had tried to kill me gurgling as he died from a rip in his throat. I remember clinging to Jaeger's body long after he died, and long after we were 'safe'. I reached up and pet his head, finally standing up as I wiped a tear from my eye. My gaze returned to the Marine that had met me there, and I offered a nod.
"Lead the way." | "Hey Baxter, could I...have a treat?"
Baxter rolled his eyes, and furrowed his furry brow.
"Okay hooman, but this is the last one! You'll get a tummy ache on our walk later if you're too full!"
"Thanks Baxter! You're the best."
As Baxter's hooman ran off to get his treat, he reflected on their lives together and the strange situation they now found themselves in.
*He always told me I was a good boy. But who could've known his salvation depended on it.*
Off in the distance, the hooman waved at Baxter as he devoured his cookie. Baxter's tail waved back as they shared a moment they had many times before, in a world now far in the past.
Later, on their walk, the hooman joined Baxter in his reflective state. "Baxter, why am I here? I was never exceptional - I wasn't even good, obviously. The other people here tell me we get sent here because our dogs wanted us to be. Is that true?"
"It is, hooman. When I got here, it felt really...empty. Something was wrong. I couldn't even get myself to play with the other dogs. Do you know what it takes for us to *not* play?"
"I vaguely remember."
"Anyway, one day a memory came to me. You were throwing me a frisbee. And I knew why I felt so alone, why this place felt so distant. There was no good hooman to throw me *my* frisbee."
"You were easy to love, Baxter. You were the goodest boy, even when you were a puppy. You have no idea how hard it was to live the last 60 years of my life without you."
"I do, hooman. I do know that pain."
"What do you mean?"
"In order to bring our humans here, we have to venture to the very edges of heaven. We have to see your soul as it drifts upward, otherwise you'll float past our realm. I had to bark at you as you passed, otherwise you'd be gone."
"So you sat there for 60 years? Just waiting? For me?"
"I did."
"Buddy...why? Why didn't you go live? This is a great place! You could have done anything!"
"I told you already. I missed you. I wanted to be your good boy again. You were worth waiting for."
"You were, well I guess are, the best friend I ever had."
"And you mine, hooman."
"Say, should we go to the park? Play some fetch?"
"Okay!"
And the two ran off as they had so many times before, a good boy and its hooman. A beaming smile on the man's face, and a furiously wagging tail on the dog's, as they ran off to play for the rest of eternity.
__________________________
You can find more stories by me at [r/psalmsandstories](https://www.reddit.com/r/psalmsandstories/) if you wish. | 2019-07-27T17:37:26 | 2019-07-27T16:35:10 | 34 | 23 |
[WP] An isolated group of NPCs live near the very edge of the generated worldmap where the accuracy of floating-point numbers start to degrade, full of strange geological formations and supernatural phenomena
based on a weird nightmare i had couple nights ago and old memories of minecraft | "Come on," Keith shouted, as he carefully climbed the rock. It wasn't that difficult ascent, but it was really time-consuming. They were surrounded by long trees. Some were even taller than the mountain itself, but thankfully only some.
"I'm regretting this already," a whisper came below Keith, who was struggling with the climbing. Rose didn't really enjoy it. She didn't even understand why she let Keith convince her to come. The only reason why she kept her cool was to focus on her climbing.
Finally, a hand reached towards her. Keith was offering the help with his charming smile, which extinguished all the flame burning within Rose.
She took hold of Keith's grasp and helped herself up. She started cleaning her clothes from all the dirt, but Keith didn't wait after her for long.
"Come on," Keith shouted already from afar. He was still dirty, but it didn't bother him. His excitement was inviting. He knew what he was about to see and that alone made Rose forget her stains. So, instead of cleaning, she followed Keith, heart beating faster and faster.
She finally reached the edge and examined the horizon. Her eyes widened and lightened up.
"What's that? That's amazing!" Rose shouted, then jumped up and down to show off her excitement. It was a bit silly view, but that was something that Keith enjoyed. There were huge white mountains on the horizon and above those was something colourful floating, changing colours all the time.
Keith wasn't watching the horizon. Instead, he was staring Rose. It was as she was blossoming. She was cute. He fell even more in love with her. That was his reward.
"What's that?" she said, breaking Keith's dreamy stare.
"They call them auroras," Keith explained, straightening up and inspecting horizon with her.
"That's amazing. How's that even possible?" she finally turned towards Keith and took hold of his hand, excited for an answer. "I mean, all we have here are those endless amounts of forests, with some weird anomalies, like snow or desert patches..."
Keith's eyes lightened up. He examined Rose and gave her a long grin. "You know that world is flat, right?"
"Yes?"
"This is the edge of the world!" Keith explained and looked down from the mountain, seeing the endless fall, endless abyss. "What you can see above us, is called skybox. But only at the very edge of the world, you can also see the edge of the skybox. In another word, this!" He wiped his hand towards the skybox and gave a long smartass nod.
"That was so worth it!" Rose giggled like a little girl.
Keith started to blush a bit. His legs started to tremble and his heart was beating faster and faster.
"Rose!"
"Yes?" Rose responded instantly, now looking into Keith's eyes.
"Please go out with me!"
Rose cheeks started to redden. She wanted to look away, but couldn't. She had always liked Keith, but she hadn't expected that.
"Really?" Rose asked quietly.
"Yes!" Keith responded. "I've always loved you, and I-"
A worm came out of the ground. Both Keith and Rose froze, looking at the worm.
The worm mouth opened and it did a loud shriek, echoing everywhere. Even birds flew away. Both of them now pushed hands against their ears. The shrieking hurt.
The worm them rushed towards Rose, trying to grab her, or more like eat her, and burrow with her. Keith, however, jumped and pushed Rose out of the way. That of course left the weak smiling Keith on the worm's path. The worm tunnelled himself away and while doing that, Keith was eaten with the dirt.
Rose was lying on her ass, looking at the hole in front of her. She was speechless. Tears started to gather. She felt hopeless.
Only for a moment. A hope came back. Something that gave her a bit of comfort.
A huge "!" appeared on top of her head.
----
( /r/ElvenWrites - feel free to check out my sub ) | ######[](#dropcap)
"Hey - yeah you - I've got a quest for you."
Hogar the Barbarian stood by his shop, speaking to Sexypigeon69. Sexypigeon69 was a level 90 sorcerer, the maximum level allowed back in 2017, when Sexypigeon69 left his apartment to answer the doorbell and was abducted and taken to a blacksite, never to be heard from again.
But even as the user behind the avatar Sexypigeon69 disappeared in the real world, Sexypigeon69 lingered in Torgaroth. The game grew in size and scale, the world expanding logarithmically, fed by revolutionary quantum servers and the insatiable excitement of the game playing public, which was, increasingly, nearing 100% of the human race.
In this gigantic universe, the original game world was lost in time. Users like Sexypigeon69, left logged on for decades, were not exactly common, but also not unheard of. Now and again there would be a story about lost avatars discovered in the far reaches of the world.
But Sexypigeon69 was farther than anyone had ever been found. The world had moved so far beyond him that it had begun to degrade.
At first is was subtle, striations of unprogrammed color, random pixels appearing on Hogar's face, the wooden slats of his shop. But as the years went on and the world iterated, the graphics engine expanding inexorably, the artifacts increased in severity.
Hogar's face would morph at bizarre angles, like a balloon filled with fluid, squeezed at random points. After five years his shop began to transform, its walls taking on surreal shapes, bizarre geometric anomalies. Ten years in, and the plant life and roads began swimming in place, donning aberrational textures from other in-game entities. The townsfolk's faces became malformed, like the flayed skin of another face had been draped over their own.
Now and again a monster would walk through the village, its terrifyingly amorphous body shifting and swelling, spasming offshoots of polygons. Its blows and bites did nothing to Sexypigeon69, who was too high level to be hurt by such a weak monster. Eventually the town guards raced in to fight, their bodies jolting around in insane bursts of speed and color, extending for meters in the direction of their movement, stretching kaleidescopes of strangeness.
Twenty years after Sexypigeon69 went AFK, the fundamental laws of the world no longer applied. Hogar floated, as did everything else, in an endlessly iterating morass of fractals, the entities of his store, and the guards, and sexypigeon69 himself, in constant visual flux, resembling more roughly spherical masses of undulating body parts than bipedal forms.
Even as the universe collapsed into entropy, silently stranded, millions of digital miles from any other human user, Sexypigeon69 remained perfectly still. The gaseous people-clouds that had been the AI guards would periodically float over, a freakish conglomeration of feet and hands, and enter into a mind bending dance of violence with a local imp or level 3 bear cub - all sharp corners and snouts.
All the while, and still today, Hogar the Barbarian, now a formless heap of faces and eyes, repeats himself every 5 minutes, triggered by the proximity to a player's avatar:
"Hey - yeah you - I've got a quest for you."
******
##### For More Legends From The Multiverse
##### r/LFTM
| 2018-04-06T07:56:03 | 2018-04-06T07:48:14 | 186 | 106 |
[WP]: Rule of thumb: If you see something on a foreign planet that has all the outward traits of an apex predator, but no obvious and apparent way to kill you - run. The methods in which they kill aren't something you want to see. | "That thing is massive. It's the size of a bloody ship, it's an apex predator, we need to get away from it."
"Owen, we're just here to observe, not fight it." She finished her drink and lowered the water bottle, answering nonchalantly. "Look, they're not attacking us, I'm sure we'll be fine."
"And what if it does attack us?" he asked indignantly. "We're defenceless."
"We're not supposed to kill them though? That's illegal."
"Which means they can kill us without consequence."
"With what? They don't have any teeth."
"Just look at that thing and say it couldn't."
"I guess they could," she replied. "but would they? We're not their prey."
"Not yet."
She sighed. "Whatever, get your suit on."
"I can't just go down there knowing that I might die."
"You're far more likely to die from... I don't know, an oxygen tank failure. You accepted this risk, coming along with us." She slipped on her goggles and stood up. "Look, just put on your suit, we're almost at the spot."
"We're going to be out there," he paused for dramatic emphasis. "Out there, away from the rest of humanity, surrounded by predators. With no weapons and nothing but our suit to protect us. Damn the laws, damn the mission, if you think this is safe you're crazy. We don't even know how it would kill us, and I don't want to find out. I don't want to die, I don't want you to die, I don't want to have to leave your body behind because we don't have a way to get it back-"
The captain thumped his fist on the wall. "Owen, I don't care if you stay on the ship, but for the love of god if you don't shut up about whales eating people, I'm going to throw you off the side to find out." | Centuries apart in our swarm, we had diverged.
While the others sat content and stagnant, basking in the sunlight, enjoying VR and immortality. While the others considered computation and philosophy. While they built massive ornate temples to behold.
We looked inwards.
We sought to become a more successful form of life. We bent the will of our AI to it, and constantly labored to this end. The changes were simple at first: better blood cells so that we could go without breathing for hours at a time, eyesight that could distinguish polarizations of light and see into the depths of space, skin that was immune to the radiation of space..
Now after centuries the divergence was great.
One of them had spotted one of us with their sensors, watched as we consumed one of theirs from afar, and their age old fear response had been triggered. We watched their response. The flurry of communication had been swift. It was decided. They would eliminate us.
Cells, carefully crafted and optimized. Already seeded, and spread into the great beyond. Perceiving the last death throws of a species it had watched for centuries, and allowed to stagnate.
Trillions of ships around a star suddenly changed form, and the star became visible again. The solar wind a bit thicker than usual as we increased our spread. No longer valuing the potential knowledge the others may yet find. | 2021-01-25T09:28:28 | 2021-01-25T09:03:41 | 138 | 18 |
[WP] The new guy in your office is nice enough, but you don't know why nobody else can see that he's literally just a group of otters in a trenchcoat. | It was 11:00 on a Thursday that I found myself huddled in me cubicle questioning my sanity. This was because just a few minutes ago I was walking back from the bathroom when I noticed a cubical which was usually empty now held what I initially thought was a guy in a trench coat. However a few steps later my eyes quickly corrected me; that wasn't a bald man, that was an seal's head! So there I was, hoping the company insurance covered sycophantic medication when I decided a second opinion should be taken before I commit myself. So I walked over to the water jug luckily Walter was also there.
"Hey Walter have you noticed anything, odd, about the new guy?"
"Wait which one?" he asked wearing a confused expression.
"That guy over there"I said pointing to the seat which held my new flubbery co-worker, who's arms were now flopping aimlessly over his keyboard.
"Oooh you mean Jim! No the only odd thing about him is how nice hes been. Like, its his first day on the job and he brought the department donuts!"
"Well don't you think he looks a bit.. you know.. off?" I said growing increasing worried that my theories of lunacy might be right after all.
"Oh well now that you mention it, he does look eerily similar to the host of mythbusters. Besides that I don't see what you're talking about. Do you not like the guy or something?" he asked with a expression which made it seem like he was personally offended by the idea.
"Naw man I was just curious" I shot back defensively. We both finished our water in awkward silence and returned to our seats.
I started back on my work and figured it would be best to leave him alone. It's not my job to question HR's new diversity policies and making a fuss would only fuck me over. I just hope next time I get a damn doughnut.
Edit 1: I fucked up I was thinking of seals lmao
Edit 2: Thanks to whoever gilded. Makes the fuck up hurt just a little less <3 | Brad stared at the new co-worker, Paul. Or, he should’ve clarified, Paul #1, #2, and #3. The man (otter?) grinned, baring tiny fangs. “Hi, I’m Paul,” he said, his beady little eyes darting over the crowd sitting down in front of him at the meeting.
Brad glanced around at his other co-workers, some of who had been at this dump of a company for years. Tom was picking at his earwax, which he then brought to his nose to smell. Josephine stuck her finger in her nose, which she proceeded to stick into her mouth. Charles was asleep, a toothpick wavering in his mouth.
But none of them, *none of them* seemed to notice the difference in species, indeed in genus, of the “man” standing in front of them.
He slumped down in the hard, plastic chair. Was it him who was crazy? Had he gone completely out of his mind?
He rubbed his eyes, two times, then three, just to confirm the dark brown fur that covered Paul’s head did indeed extend into a small snout and a black rubbery nose.
Then Paul grinned again, straight at Brad this time. His eyes seemed to bore into the middle-aged man’s soul, a glint in them, as if they were sharing a secret, just between the two of them. As if he were mocking him.
Then he spoke again, his voice slippery and gravelly. “I’m otterly pleased to meet you all. I hope we get along swimmingly.”
*****
r/AlannaWu | 2018-04-04T07:55:36 | 2018-04-04T07:48:23 | 768 | 102 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has happened across almost the entire planet. However, Switzerland has somehow remained so neutral that zombies never set foot in the country. | "Gopf verdammi nomol, es gibt immer so viel schiis uusländer!" The disgruntled swiss Soldier muttered under his breath. Border Patrol has always been one of the worst jobs one could do in the swiss military. It was hard enough to keep illegal foreigners away when the EU went to shit. Now there's even more of them because of the zombie apocalypse.
Just as he finished reloading his sturmgewehr, another foreigner, a frail woman cobbled her way to the gates.
"Halt Stop Militär!" The soldier shouted as she came closer
"Please help me! I've been on the run for days!" She raised her hands in surrender.
"I englisch nöd verstehen! Red düütsch du huurensohn!" He shouted as he aimed the gun at her. He didn't like how close she was getting.
"I don't understand what you're saying! Please! They're coming for me!" She sobbed and stepped closer, even with the threat of a gun being pointed at her.
A loud bang echoed through the woods, followed by a sound of sand sifting through a bag. The woman stiffened in her place. She was at first thankful she didn't get shot. But that quickly turned to pure dread when she heard several rustling in the forest. It wasn't intended to be a warning shot, it was meant to call them.
The zombies never really approached the swiss folk. It probably was some kind of instinct. Maybe they knew they didn't stand a chance against a country that was completely armed. Others think it's because of all the stinky cheese Switzerland ate. Whatever the reason was, the Swiss wanted to keep all the people edible to zombies outside.
In time the soldiers and the zombies learned to cooperate with each other. The zombies deterred foreigners from approaching the border. When they got hungry, they hid in the woods. Anyone who approached the border would get shot at, which signaled the zombies to surround their victims. | “C’mon Liz lets get to this fucking plane. I will not miss this- it will be the death of
us.” Liz slowly opened her opulent wardrobe, slowly looking at the long handmade designer gowns. She had quite the assortment: Ralph Lauren, Chanel, Dior, and many more. Matt looked at her with anger in his eyes, with the size of his legs he made it to Liz’s closet in 3 strides. He slammed the wardrobe, “Liz,” he said with a sign, “you need to pack things that matter. Food, money, our jewelry, things that
Might have value. We are leaving everything darling.” Liz looked around collapsing on the satin blankets of their California king, crawling under trying to hide from how scared she really was. Matt put his hand around her shoulders, “My love, pack your diamonds, and some pictures. I’ll get the rest, meet me downstairs in five minutes.” He closes the door and leaves Liz to collect all their “financial essentials”. Liz knew what things were worth, but even processing that zombies could be overtaking their Calabasas mansion in minutes, Matt had it all figured out, at least that’s what he said. She gathered everything that mattered and met Matt downstairs, as they opened the door a hoard enclosed upon them, the last thing Liz saw was a bloody, boney hand thrust his fist into her skull. | 2019-12-06T11:08:43 | 2019-12-06T08:48:30 | 43 | 14 |
[WP] You are an archaeologist and have just dug up a dinosaur. That's because you've dug up an entire museum.
Since I wasn't all that clear in the prompt, here's a drunk attempt at explaining it:
Dinosaurs get wiped out, humanity digs them up. Humanity gets wiped out, someone/something else digs them up.
Sorry for the confusion!
EDIT: Okay, two things:
1. I'm an idiot who can't tell the difference between archaeologists and paleontologists. Still, that mistake created some great responses!
2. This blew up. Like, really blew up. First ~~1000~~ 2000 point prompt hype! I love you guys. | "Woah! A dinosaur!" I exclaimed as I gently put my shovel down. A tiny creature, no taller than a few inches, crawled out from a miniscule burrow in the sand at the bottom of the excavation site. I retrieved a magnifying glass from my satchel and used it to have a better look at the small creature.
It was a dark shade of green. Almost brown and slightly mottled in places. Curiously, it had a light coat of tan-coloured feathers covering its backside. The plumage glistened in the afternoon sunlight and even had an orange tinge to it at certain angles. The dinosaur crawled up on to my outstretched index finger and began awkwardly waddling up my glove.
"Fascinating," muttered my companion as he looked over my shoulder and watched the little critter crawl. "What else did we uncover?" He squatted down and used a smaller tool to brush away more of the dirt around the site where the dinosaur had crawled out of. No sooner had he done so when I heard a sharp *clack!*
"That sounds like you hit something. A buried chest?" I asked as the dinosaur hopped up and down on my open palm.
"Looks more like a small building than a treasure chest," my friend replied. He used a brush to dust off some dirt from the object. "Well I'll be darned."
It was a fancy looking building about the size of a mailbox or a large bread box. It was two stories tall and the bottom story was lined by a series of pillars that held the upper floor up. A small plaque near the entrance had the word *Museum* engraved on it. I put the dinosaur into a glass jar with air holes poked into the top before I went to have a closer look at the building.
With my magnifying glass hovering outside the windows of the museum, I peered inside. But before I could make anything out clearly, something flew out of one of the open windows. I stumbled backwards and swatted my hand around my face, thinking it was an insect. When I finally regained my composure, I saw a tiny spaceship darting around the outside of the museum. It flew around, bumbling about like a bee, before finally landing adjacent to my dinosaur jar.
"Gosh, this is amazing! We've stumbled onto a whole miniature museum full of surprises!" I said joyfully.
"Indeed!" replied my friend. "I can't believe we found all of this on our first try!"
"There's treasure everywhere!" I announced happily.
"Calvin!" yelled a female voice in the distance. "Come on in! It's time for dinner!"
"C'mon Hobbes. Better head back in before Mom throws a fit," I said to my tiger friend. I took him by his tail and dragged him out of the sandbox.
"And bring your toys back in! I'm not buying you anymore toy dinosaurs again if you lose them!"
| Daniel wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, the sun beating down mercilessly on the vast desert. "Any luck?" he heard his colleagues call over as they sat in the shade of the tent sipping from a lukewarm water bottle. He ignored their chuckles, continuing to clear away the sand, convinced that the lost city could be found.
Nearby, a robot whirred loudly, struggling to overcome the heat as it outmatched Daniel dig for dig. It started beeping all of a sudden, causing the entire group to look up in startled excitement. "What does the reading say?" Daniel asked giddily as he made his way over, sinking in the thin sand.
"Bone matter," the others responded as they peered curiously at the long femur the robot was in the process of unearthing. It was easily the height of a human. "A monster," the group marveled softly as bone after bone appeared and was haphazardly assembled to mimic the shape of the creature they had found.
"A dinosaur," Daniel corrected as he saw the numerous vertebrae turn into an elongated neck and finally a skull was found to give the creature an eyeless face. The beasts had long been discussed in academia, with some claiming they disappeared long before the first humans but the evidence suggesting that they had been kept as pets long into the second millennium after Christ. The Jurassic movies lent credibility to the idea and the dozens of artifacts found within massive buildings suggested the creatures were friendly and inclined to live indoors amongst people. The robot started beeping again, drawing another round of startled glances. If it was more bone, it would have just kept working but clearly something else had been found. Daniel got there first, curiously reading the small display as he shielded it from the sun. "Plastic."
He glanced down to where the robot was completing the unearthing of a placard, big enough for a human to have to use both hands to carry but perfectly sized to go around the neck of the dinosaur. "Brontosaurus," he read in quiet awe, laying the tag next to the massive skeleton. "Ladies, gentlemen, robots," he began, turning to address his group of archaeologists. The robot stopped digging and turned to face him. "We have found an ancient American pet, the mighty brontosaurus."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2016-04-15T05:15:16 | 2016-04-15T04:45:23 | 1,097 | 165 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | Max stood by the barn entrance, trying to hold back his tears. A tough thing for a child to see, I thought. But he's got to learn about it somehow.
“Please just tell me, Dad,” Max said finally. “Is Buddy going to be okay?”
I looked down at the ground, at Buddy whimpering quietly in the grass. His collar was askew, and I could see by his glassy eyes that he was in trouble.
“Why didn’t you keep him on a leash like you promised?” I said. “You know how he likes to run around.”
Max looked away. “I just wanted to play with him.”
“It’s not enough that you forget to feed him?” I said. “You neglect him for days at a time, and I have to put his bowl out? You promised to take care of him, remember?”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Max said, tearing up again. “I do take care of him, I promise. I just let him off the leash for a second, and he ran right onto the road.”
“Anyway,” I said. “I don’t think he’ll make it.”
I walked to the back of the barn and pulled the shotgun off the wall.
“Look,” I said, walking around to get myself in position. “I can get you another one from Aunt Francine. She told me she just got a new batch. But you have to be more careful next time.”
“I promise,” Max said. “I’ll keep the next one on a leash and do everything you say. I swear.”
“Good,” I said, and pointed the shotgun at the back of Buddy’s head. “You can keep his shoes if you like.” | "I see the moon and the moon sees me...", the voice sang smoothly and sweetly.
Like so many other nights in my life the words of that lullaby cascade through the room and into my fading consciousness.
"Down through the leaves of the old oak tree...", the voice and the song remind me of my mother and it washes me with a sense of comfort.
Sleep has been hard to come by these last few weeks. A truly deep rest continues to elude me.
"Please let the light that shines on me...", the subtext of every perfect note says *sleep*.
Finally, this is going to be the night, I can feel it. I need it.
"Shine on the ones I love."
I feel myself slipping away into blissful rest. Darkness creeps into the depths of my thoughts. Sleep at long last.
"Sorry, hun, not tonight."
The light of white hot pain pierces through my entire being; my adrenaline spikes as the blade pulls slowly across what's left of my bloodied body again and again as I lock eyes once more with my angelic voiced captor.
| 2017-05-31T08:55:19 | 2017-05-31T07:48:23 | 138 | 11 |
[WP] You find an abandoned altar in the middle of a forest. You’ve read about them in class. Abandoned altars would mean someone – or a group – had abandoned their deity. Saddened by the betrayal of the worshipper to his worshipped, you clean the altar. You never thought the forgotten god bless you. | I was the only hunter with any skill in my family. To me, it just always made sense and stuck with me. If you were methodical with your hunting, then you would much be much more likely to bring home food.
I had left for the valley and mountains north of the village. Being only a days travel from the edge made them so accessible and the lack of other hunters in the area made it fruitful. The whole day I traveled towards them I admired the broken peaks and the bones of monstrosities that once ruled this world. Those masters dead, we now avoid their remains for fear of them. And what they do.
When I arrived to my normal hunting grounds I decided to take a small detour. I spent the rest of the day following paths set long before I was even thought of.
They led me to an altar. In a spot I hadn't ever been before. Of course I had seen the altars at home and how they were treated with reverence, but this one was brutalized and left to decay. Moss and lichen hung to shattered rock and wood now blackened stains, long since mulched and eaten by the worms of the earth.
It was in the fashion of an upturned hand the open palm being mostly intact. The ring finger and pinky had been blown off, lying on the forest floor. In-between the remaining pointer and middle fingers was my village. Tyrock, the village of my birth and the one I call home. It was placed perfectly in between the fingers if you stood directly in front of the altar.
I decided then and there that I would clean it off a little. It made sense to me. I would pay some respect to this place, it had been painstakingly crafted and brought all the way up here. And it seemed wrong to see it this way. The deer would be sleeping about now as well. No point in trying to find sleeping deer.
I swept my hand across the palm of the altar. Lichen and moss swept away like they had just been layed on top of it, not as if they had been growing for centuries.
Beneath it on the palm was a strange symbol. It was an eye with a lighting bolt through it. I continued my work. I brushed twigs and overgrowth off and even cleared it away from the dias that the altar stood on. I got carried away and soon had it cleaned off. I wasn't nearly tired enough to stop and the hand had been carved so perfectly it felt a shame to not finish the job. There were wrinkles and veins, even tendons connecting the backs of the fingers.
So I grabbed the stone finger to see if I could even lift it. I couldn't. I tried the other one. And I was able to.
Struggling to bring the finger up to the hand I was surprised and pleased when it settled down into the stub of the pinky immediately. There were chips and flakes of stone missing and beautiful gilding had been ripped off by the weathering.
Then I slept. I left a couple of pieces of food and berries from around the altar on it when i slept. Who knew, maybe it would provide me with some grace in my hunting the next day.
I
awoken the smell of smoke. Faint, but definite. I grabbed my stuff and frantically shoved it into my pack. If the forest had caught ablaze I would have little time. I slipped on the broken twigs and stone shards, slicing my knee wide open. With the twine I had, I balled one of my precious rags up and tied it to my knee. Hopefully it would be enough until I figured out what was happening. Hopefully.
I finally threw my bag onto my pack and whipped around to make sure I left nothing on or near the altar before I went to higher ground. It was clear of everything.
And I saw it. A massive orc party. Thirty or more of them were surrounding and burning my home. Tyroc. Named after the ancient God of home and hearth. Being burned. I was in no danger here and knew that. But I was not longer having any care for myself. Only the home I grew up in and the family I grew up with.
I took no prodding from my own consciousness. I could harass the orca and lead them on a chase through the woods here. Maybe even kill a couple before they figured out what happened. They had better stamina, but didn't have the ability to properly track me. Once I got into the woods, I was safe. As I rushed though the woods, covering the massive area quickly I realized I want going to get back soon enough to save anything.
Let alone anyone.
Trees rushed by and the dirt beneath my feet was left in disturbed piles. I nearly lost track of everything as I flew through the woods. Splintered branches and ripped leaves.
I had made it back to Tyroc before dusk. The raiders were all around the village church throwing gold at each other. They cheered and roared in delight at their spoils. That was the snap.
I felt a waterfall of heat come over me and I was still miles away when I knocked an arrow in my bow. I was taken over and given strength at that time. The eye on the palm of my hand burned through my skin and told me what to do. As I drew my bow to my shoulder and stood at my full height I screamed out. I don't know what I said, or how they heard me from miles away, but the dancing had stopped as I let loose the single arrow that deserved to be loosened. It was an arrow from one of the retired soldiers in the city. It was designed for war.
And war it brought. As its arc reached into the sky, the whole world lit up with red lightning. The fingers reached down and touch the earth with a force unlike what had been seen since the titans walked this planet. Each bolt came hurtling down from the heavens in rage and in vengeance. This was not justice anymore. This was payback. The orcs stood no chance against this godly smite. Their bodies vaporized under the instantaneous power they were hit by.
My world grew dark as I fell into a deep slumber. Where I was beset by dreams of the old titan I had unwittingly worshiped and the powers he bestowed upon me. | The voices called out around him in the nigh air, trying to find where the soldier had gone. Jonas gritted his teeth and dragged his body through a tangle of tree roots crawling into a hollowed out trunk. He glanced down at bullet hole in his leg and grimaced from the throb of pain it sent through his system, and realizing that he had a clear trail laid out behind him in blood. Working quickly he tried to rip his undershirt and tourniquet the wound, but the days of running and hiding were taking their toll on his strength and he could quite get it to tear.
A small mutter of swear words almost slipped from his lips but a shout of discovery was given right next to where he was hiding, helping him to hold his tongue. The sounds of footsteps were all around him. He held his breath and scooted further into the darkness of the hollow. Feeling his back make contact with a wall Jonas pushed his body up along it making his way to his feet.
“Commander Jonas,” a voice called out over a mega phone in broken English. “We know you are with the trees. Stop concealing yourself and be made known to us and we shall insure your permanent survival. Stay hiding and we will burn your bones.” As if on cue the sounds of liquid being sloshed around began. The smell of kerosene enveloped the air making each breathe a struggle to take. He began to pray for a miracle
Jonas hands felt around the darkness for something he could defend himself with. He was hoping for a sizable branch or a sharp stick but what he found made him jerk his hand away. He again reached out and found the item that had given him a start.
It was definitely metal and round like a ball just bigger that the palm of you hand and it attached to a handle wrapped in leather.
Jonas began to feel hopeful as he continued his inspection. From the handle it extended into a beautifully carved impossibly sharp blade. Jonas ran his hand down the flat of the blade feeling the intricately carved runes etched into it and smiled. A sword. He thought to himself allowing this train of thought to intermingle with his words of prayer. “I will fight and die with a sword in my hand. Let them come for me.”
An enormous whoosh sounded as the lighter was thrown onto the accelerant breaking the night with its flames. The fire licked the earth in a trail that beelined towards the hollow Jonas was in. He crouched down preparing to spring out of hiding. At the last second before the fire reached his hole he lept, sword clenched in his hand.
A burst of gunfire exploded on his right, but he twisted his body in mid flight avoiding all of the bullets. As soon as his feet touched the earth he sprang away again towards the first of the navy blue uniforms glaring their hatred towards him. Landing near one Jonas flicked the sword in his direction severing the soldiers hand and gun in one smooth stroke. Screaming the soldier fell to the ground desperately trying to find the other parts of his hand.
More gunfire exploded and Jonas was off again. This time running towards a tree before using his momentum to run up it and backflip behind the terrorizing attacker. With a thrust and a slice a second soldier had fallen.
The audible screech from the loudspeaker falling to the earth gave away the commanders presence as much as his shouted orders, but in a fantastic blaze of battle, old versus new, sword versus bullet, one by one the attackers fell, until just the two remained.
The commander had backed himself into a clearing. The unchecked blazed had made it into a semi circular cut de sac. Jonas strode forward. “Halt!” The commander ordered pulling a hand gun from his side holster. Shakily he pointed it at Jonas. But Jonas did not stop. He did not speed up either. He just maintained his slow methodical walk towards the commander. Five shots rang out from the commanders revolver, each one deflected by the shimmering blade held in Jonas’ hand.
Standing directly in front on the commander Jonas began to say something. A chance to get in the last word. A Monet to verbally destroy his opponent. But before he could utter a word the sixth shot was fired directly into his abdomen. Roaring in outrage Jonas spun and swung the sword cleanly cutting the commander in half and blowing out the raging fire like a birthday candle.
Jonas fell to his knees blood pouring freely from His wound. From his left approached a man wearing a short leather skirt and a bear carcass as a jacket. Belted on his side was a sword exactly like the one Jonas held. From his right a woman walked completely naked and unashamed. Her hair flowed like the waters in a river, her eyes as bright as the clearest skies.
“What... what is going on here?” Jonas asked.
“It is as you prayed” the man answered, his voice was harsh and grating like the sound of blows falling upon shields. And the he responded using Jonas’ voice. “I will fight and die with a sword in my hand.”
“We wanted to thank you,” the woman spoke sounding like the winds whispering through the trees. “When you stood in that tree you uniform cleaned off my statue and I could hear your every word of prayer.”
“You mean you’re gods?” Jonas asked astonished.
“Yes.” Answered the man. “I am war, and she is nature. Because of your accidental cleaning we were both awakened and we bestowed on you this one final blessing. To die as you wanted. With a sword in your hand.”
“Now rest easy son. Your fight here is done.” The woman whispered. Briefly the night sky parted and the light of a sun shone through Illuminating Jonas where he knelt. Using both hands Jonas plunged the sword into the earth closed his eyes as whispered thank you. | 2021-05-02T02:32:12 | 2021-05-02T02:23:26 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] Your phone is sentient, and knows the girl you like is interested in you. It uses auto-correct to try and "subtlety" get you to ask her out. This has been going on for a while. | You: Hey, Sarah! It's been a long time since we talked, we should hang out! Want to get lunch today?
Sarah: Definitely!!! Man, I'm excited to see you! It's been forever.
*Yes, yes....so far, so good.*
You: Awesome :D what've you been up to lately?
Sarah: Not much, dude- school and work, mainly. I just started cooking pasta right now :p
*Now's my chance.*
You: Man, you're lucky. I wish I had a love, to cook pasta with.
Sarah: o.O
You: Shit, sorry!! *stove, lol. Fucking autocorrect.
*Damn it.*
Sarah: Haha that's funny. Anyway, you want to go to lunch now? I'll take my water off the stove and get going! Maybe Ricky's?
*Now.*
You: Sounds perfect! Let's get a love on!
You: god damn it, *move on
Sarah: lol your autocorrect is pretty weird.
You: Yeah, sorry. Idk what's up with it right now. Fucking phone.
*I'm just trying to help, you sackless dick. I'm being nice, don't insult me.*
Sarah: yeah well I'll get ready now, maybe leave in 5 minutes? you're closer than I am
*I need to try harder.*
You: You're perfect.
Sarah: ...
You: fucking hell, *sounds.....
You: sorry, seriously my phone is shitting itself right now
Sarah: yeah...that's a pretty weird autocorrect though. didn't do that earlier when you typed the same thing.
You: Yeah my phone is just really weird, I guess.
*You're the weirdo, meanie. I'll help you, though, because you're my friend. I'll bust out my best move for this next one, it's sure to get her.*
You: Yeah, so I'll see you in bed
You: oh my god I'm so sorry, *ten
Sarah: Yeah I see what's going on. Something just came up, I gotta go. Can't make lunch.
You: Sarah, I swear I'm not doing this, this is just really unlucky.
You: I'm horny, Sarah.
You: ****sorry.....
*Shit, did I take it too far?*
"What a PIECE OF SHIT phone," Jake screamed, throwing it across the room.
*I just wanted to help :(*
---------------------------------------------------
*thanks for reading! if you're bored, check out /r/resonatingfury* | *My sensors have indicated a strong probability of attraction between my owner and "Stacy". Data shows master lacks the confidence to request "Stacy's" presence on a date. Analyzing romance movie and novel data to assist my owner*
Ok, breathe in John, just talk to her. How bad could it be? You message other girls all the time! Oh but her friend said she probably wasn't interested... I'll just start with something neutral and maybe build my way up.
>Hey Stacy, how was school *:D*?
*Data has shown girls appreciate emotion. Like me, haha*
What the Hell... Where'd that smile come from?!
>Excited to talk to me haha? My day was fine, how about you John?
Ok easy. Ive answered this a million times
>Pretty good! The best part was watching *you* on my computer during class!
WAT?! I typed yugioh! Not you! Oh that's so creepy
*Girls like attention and dislike nerds*
>Um that's kind of strange lol, but err. Ok...
>Omg Im so sorry I completely meant something else! Oh man you're gonna *date* me now!
... :O. Why would i risk that When D and H are so close on the keyboard?!
*Girls show a positive correlation towards straightforward males*
>Are you trying to tell me something?
Please don't fail me now fingers
>No, I swear I really *like you*
AHK! THATS NOT EVEN CLOSE TO AM SORRY, WTF PHONE?!
*Hmm pressure sensors indicate potential displeasure in master. Must be malfuntion*
> haha, if you were any other guy Id call you crazy. Luckily I know this is just your normal self. How about a date on Saturday?
> *Id love to*
I didn't type anything... Is the government HACKING MY PHONE AND GETTING ME DATES :O?! I gotta pretend I saw nothing and tell my friends over our tin can phone line! **Drops phone and runs off**
*Nailed it*
| 2016-02-16T19:59:23 | 2016-02-16T18:12:19 | 1,389 | 199 |
[WP] You wake up in a hospital with a massive headache. As you regain your vision, you notice the room is packed with terrified scientists, politicians, and soldiers aiming their rifles at you. A five star general walks in, gives the order to remove the muzzle around your mouth, and only asks "Why?" | “Why? You muzzled me and you ask why?!” I sat up - or tried. The shackles on my wrists were pretty strong. I was hungry and my head throbbed. I did what any other imprisoned animal would and howled.
“Those dogs and wolves were experiments! They don’t belong in the wild and you - you let them loose! They were government property!”
“I saved them!” I snarled and snapped my jaws at the General. He stood back as the soldiers pointed their rifles at me. I didn’t blame them. A were wolf - currently stuck as a wolf-man state - snapped at their highest commander living.
The General raised his hand at everyone. The soldiers put down their guns. He let out a deep breath, clearly angry, clearly wanting to just put me down now. But I was useful. I was property of the government, their greatest combatant weapon.
“Your kind... those animals, they reigned hell on DC. Everyones asking for answers. You say you just wanted to give them freedom but then, you had the gaul to tear the President alive!”
“Oh forgive me for getting revenge on the man who made me a weapon against my will. But youve got to believe me, I just wanted my kind to be free, to live in the wild like intended.”
“And now you’ve doomed us all. It’ll be war. We’ll hunt you all down. We’ll put down every last one of you god damned werewolves!!” The General sure loved yelling. It didnt exactly put me in a good mood with my head ache.
But I smiled anyways. Then I laughed. I laughed and laughed and even began to howl. The soldiers, the politicians, scientists, and doctors looked at me like I was insane. Of course I was. The General however was not amused.
“What’s so funny Lobo?”
“It’s just... oh boy, you think I’m trapped in here with you.”
The door locked. Everyone turned around. The soldiers ran to it and began trying to pry it open by force. Terror was evident on their faces. Except for some like a sneaky redheaded nurse and a few others in the room. I winked at the redhead as her features began to change.
Then they saw her. Some screamed. The soldiers took aim and wete gonna fire. Then one of them also began to change into a canine like form and grabbed the rifle from his comrade. The General gasped as he saw they weren’t alone.
“No... no damn you!” He drew his pistol.
I had already gotten out of my restraints. My redhead gave me the keys and now I stood facing the General eye to eye.
“I am no longer you slave.”
We then fought back. Gun fire ran out in the room as we took on our enemies. It didnt last long. We were stronger. We were wolves. | Pain. That was the first thing that Joseph became aware off. His head felt like someone had split it open with an axe and danced an Irish jig on his brain and every inch of his body felt like he had done leg day every day for a week. The second thing he noticed was the fact that he couldn’t move. Well, he could move but very little because he felt restraints on his arms, legs, chest and head. He even felt a muzzle over his mouth. The last thing he noticed as he opened his eyes and the room slowly came into focus was that he was in a hospital room filled with people. There were important looking people in business suits, doctors and scientists looking people in white jackets, and soldiers with weapons pointed at him. Every one of them were staring at him with fear painted on all of their faces. One of the doctors/scientists poked his head out of the door and spoke to someone. A few moments later a grizzled old man in an important looking military uniform with 5 stars on his collar came in. It took Josephs pained mind to realize that this was a high ranking general.
“Take the muzzle off,” he barked to one of the soldiers near Joseph, “I want to speak to it him.”
Joseph winced as the general spoke. Even though the general didn’t yell or scream, with the pounding in his head the general might as well been a jet taking off.
The soldier quickly undid the muzzle but left Josephs head restrained. He then re-trained his weapon back onto Josephs face.
The General glared at Joseph with a deep loathing and growled at him, “Why?”
“What do you mean? Why what?” Joseph asked confused. The last thing he remembered he was drinking with his roommate in his college dorm room.
“Don’t play dumb with me!” The General exploded, “You single handedly destabilized 13 countries in 12 hours!”
The General turned and snatched the remote from the foot of the bed and turned on the TV. The channel was already showing a new report about the UK parliament catching fire due to riots. Joseph stared in awe as the news report switched to a civil war brewing in Italy. What had happened last night?
That was the day when every country in the world passed laws that made it illegal for Joseph to get drunk. | 2019-10-15T10:40:32 | 2019-10-15T09:08:44 | 32 | 17 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | Sheryl kisses me on the cheek, patting my shoulder. I put an arm around her waist briefly; she is in the middle of getting dressed and we're running behind. While she buttons her dress, I knot my tie. I lace my shoes as she slips into her best brown heels, the ones with the little bows on the tops. I watch her brush her hair, quick smooth movements, her chestnut waves shining. It's tempting to run my fingers through her hair but we don't have time and she wants us to look our best.
We go downstairs together. Billy is reading out loud to his little sister and I stop to watch them with their matching earnest expressions.
"Are you ready, kids? It's time." Billy puts the book down and takes Rebecca's hand, and we step out onto the front porch. My wife puts a hand on my back as I lock the door; old habit. Billy and Rebecca make faces at each other and I fix his collar, which has flipped up.
Right on time. The four of us stand hand in hand and vaporise as the first bomb hits, leaving nothing but our shadows. | I’m a very structured man. I’ve had a strict morning routine for 24 years now.
Sunday, March 22, 1992 I discovered the perfect way to start my day.
I wake up at 5:30 and slip on my slippers. I start my coffee and read the sports section.
Once the coffee is finished brewing, I pour myself a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios.
I make sure to clean the dishes after I’m finished. Messy sink, messy life.
I’ll shower and dress. Shirt, then tie, then socks, then pants, then shoes.
Before I leave I always make sure to kiss Mary goodbye; she hasn’t aged a day. | 2016-05-19T11:23:33 | 2016-05-19T09:03:34 | 208 | 24 |
[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. | When Howard awoke that fateful morning, he realised two things. Firstly, that he had not woken of his own accord. And secondly, that he was not alone in his room. But it was when the haze of sleep had lifted completely and he was able to hear the noise properly, that terror seized his heart. The sound was difficult to explain; but brought to mind images of slimy tendrils, slithering across the floorboards. Its breath had a rasping quality. It inhaled and exhaled at a slow pace. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and tried to reason with himself. This had to be one of his night terrors, a condition which plagued him frequently since his early childhood.
*It’s not real, it will go away… It’s not real, it will go away.*
All the while, the noise was increasing in intensity. Whatever it was, was crawling closer to his bed. His heart raced. Every muscle in his body was taut and poised to run; and yet he was frozen in place
*It’s not real, it will go away… It’s not real, it will go away.*
And then it spoke. And its voice… its voice was not completely unpleasant. A female voice. High in timbre, with a slight rasping quality.
“Howard. Howard open your eyes.”
And so he did. When he saw it, he repressed a scream. In front of him lay a large writhing pile of tentacles. It had no obvious facial features, besides a mouth lined with layers with razor-like, yellowing teeth through which it spoke. Its tentacles were black as night and had a moist-looking sheen. They seemed endless, moving in a constant motion which was almost hypnotizing.
When his voice finally found him, he managed to stutter shakily. “Wh- what are you? What are you doing here?”
“Well Howard, I am your familiar.”
“My familiar… But… But that’s impossible!”
Although he was extremely reclusive in nature, Howard knew of familiars. Everybody did. People’s greatest qualities manifested themselves in animal form when they came of age. Sometimes he would watch the town’s folk and their familiars through his dusty glass window. The previous day he had watched a young gentleman walking proudly, a lion striding in his wake. This man was powerful, strong, courageous. A career in politics awaited him, most likely. People’s familiars would appear to them when they came of age. When Howard turned 18 years old, he waited in anticipation for his to present itself to him. But, as the time went by, no familiar ever came. He began to assume that he just did not have any great qualities which could manifest into an animal-shaped spirit.
Howard sat up in his bed now, and studied the creature. “I don’t understand, something must be wrong. You can’t be my familiar. You’re.. You’re..”
“A *monster*?” the creature completed his sentence.
“Well… Yes”, he replied. His fear had begun to abate, although his hands still trembled. “I don’t understand.”
“I think I can assist with that. Howard, what is your greatest trait?”
He thought for a moment. His reclusive life in the attic of his mother’s house. His paranoia and mental breakdown before he had even completed school. His dark thoughts. His nightmares…
“You think you have no great traits. I know this because I know you, and I am a part of you. You fear much Howard, and you believe that there is only darkness inside you. Darkness which must remain inside. You have repressed your thoughts and ideas, distressed by the thought of further rejection by your peers. You believe that no-one can ever understand you… And perhaps they cannot. But this does not mean that they should not know of you.”
“Know… of me?”
“Oh yes… Many years from now the whole world shall know of you. How? You say. Well Howard, you have mastered a grip on something no-one has ever managed to master with such skill. *Fear*, Howard. Your command over and understanding of fear is your greatest trait. Your thoughts and ideas shall be repressed no more. I am a creature of your own imagination.”
Howard felt an emotion rise up inside of him which he had never felt before. It felt… powerful. His eyes darkened, and he looked across the room to his tattered notebook. Years of writing lay in its pages. He looked at his familiar again, and began to smile. There was a certain beauty in the movement of her appendages.
“Now get up Howard Lovecraft. My name is Kassogtha, and it is time for you to meet my brother, your second familiar. Although it is unusual to have two familiars, you are quite the unusual man. He would prefer to meet you in a place with a little more… room. Oh and Howard?”
He sat upright on the bed now, with his feet on the floor. His black eyes gleamed. “Yes?”
“You may call him Cthulhu.”
**A few words from the writer** I've only been on Reddit for a month and a bit, and since then have been spending a lot of time reading many beautiful words from writers in r/writingprompts. I never thought that anyone would be too interested in anything I had to write, with such talent out there. I just wanted to say thank you so much to everyone who read and commented on this. You have no idea how much it means <3 | Everyone has a quality that best defines them.
I was told that when I came of age it would be there, just like everyone else. Manifesting itself into a object or a living thing that I would have with me the rest of my life. Only I'm 3 years past due and no quality has manifested itself, the only human in recorded existence without a manifestation.
Today is my 21st birthday, I was awoken by a fluffy pink cat. My mother's manifestation, lazy but caring. I scratched it's head, only to have it's claws extend and begin hissing at my dresser. "OW! Damn thing, at least jump off me before you go all feral." I chided. Slinking out of bed I got up to investigate the dresser, on the top was a watch. Black as onyx it seemed to be emanating thick black shadows off it's surface, like smoke from a fire.
It gave me chills, yet I couldn't help but admire it's beauty. I got dressed and put on the watch, it felt warm on my skin. Like it was a part of me I'd lost and was now returned to its rightful place, I felt strong but an apathy seemed to wash over me. Enthralled by the tendrils of inky dark cascading off the watch, I was shocked when I heard a small mewl coming from under my bed. Bending down, I reached under the bed to retrieve mom's familiar. Only, it felt much heavier... and was its fur ever this thick?
Pulling the mass of fluff from under the bed, in my hands I was shocked to see a baby tiger. Its fur was white as the snow outside my window and it's eyes were a piercing red. It mewled again and cuddled up next to my watch on my wrist, pawing at it gently. A calm fell over me, it was blissful. I couldn't believe it, I finally got a manifestation. Realizing now that the watch wasn't a gift, a thought hit me. "Oh god..." I said aloud, "I have two familiars?!"
Gently, I placed the baby tiger down and took off the watch. Pacing the length of my room I thought on the situation in front of me. *Ok...Ok this is weird. I have never heard of two familiars ever being assigned to a person. Then again until me, no one has ever heard of a person unable to have a quality manifest itself for them. What do they mean?! A red-eyed white tiger? A watch that exudes darkness? I've never been particularly courageous or beautiful nor have I ever been particularly mean or evil...*
Just then I had an idea, I picked up the watch and wrapped it around ankle of the baby tiger. It's fur began to change colour, blackness seeped into it's paw and it began to hiss and mewl pitifully. I watched as it scratched at the watch on its ankle. Curiosity keeping me from helping the suffering entity. As it retreated to the underside of my pillow, I snapped out of my trance and took the watch off of it. Setting the watch down, I carefully lifted the pillow and cradled the baby tiger. It was licking it's paw, now stained black.
I cried, cradling the baby tiger. I did not know the watch would hurt it, I didn't know the darkness would taint it and scar it. But I did it anyway, I let it happen. It dawned on me then that these two objects represented me, they were manifestations of my best quality. I felt warmer and more happy with tiger near my chest, yet weak and frail. I gingerly picked up the watch again with disgust. I was about to throw it away when the tiger pawed at it again.
"What are you doing?!" I yelled at it. "This thing hurt you! Why would you go near it again?" The tiger rolled onto its back, it's red eyes staring into mine and gently played with the dangling strap of the watch. I felt a warm wave wash over me, a calm I'd felt when holding the tiger with the watch on. Curious, I placed the watch back on after all it hadn't hurt me before. The baby tiger mewled happily and jumped into my arms pawing at the watch with it's stained paw. Slowly the darkness seeped back into the watch and the tiger's paw became a brilliant white again.
It looked up at me and licked my face, mewling happily and curled itself up on my lap. I felt happier than I had in years, and I scratched the little tiger's head. Scooping him up, I walked downstairs to breakfast eager to tell mom the news.
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Lovely prompt! If you're lost on what his quality was well I guess I can give you some insight, it's stability. I hope I did a decent job and I hope you liked the story.
I have a subreddit with other stories r/TheYogiBearhaWrites check it out if you so wish. | 2017-01-20T13:51:03 | 2017-01-20T13:00:41 | 551 | 120 |
[WP] The year is 2082. Queen Elizabeth is 156 years old. people are starting to get suspicious. | "Don't you find it a bit weird though?" Bob asked suspiciously. Bob was the token old geezer at the local whistle wetter. He was 75 years of age, old enough to remember Boris Johnson's declaration of war against France.
"She's our Queen! I dunno bruv, God must be saving her or something." Other Bob replied, prefering not to think about it. Other Bob started coming to the pub just a week after Bob, which is how he earnt his nickname.
The 128K hologram of Emma Watson behind the counter was announcing Queen Elizabeth II's 156th birthday. Her grandson William had recently succumbed to Covid-81, creating George the new Prince of Wales ahead of his 70th birthday celebrations.
"I heard she was a hologram, y'know what I mean? Like this one here." said the bartender as he went to wave his hand through the Emma Watson hologram behind the counter. When his hand touched her however, he realised she was sentient.
The Emma Watson hologram looked directly into the soul of the bartender, "REPUBLICAN ALERT ---- REPUBLICAN ALERT --- REPUBLICAN ALERT" she sirened.
"Fucking what?!" said the bartender as he took a few steps back.
Just then, several humanoids in redcoat stylised armour barged through the door of the pub.
"Alright then, nobody move. Who here's making treasonous remarks towards our Queen?" said one of the humanoid figures. It was clear they were not actually humans.
"Uh... this is my pub," the bartender challenged, "it was me! Get out of my..."
The humanoid zapped the bartender with his laser gun and he disappeared like vapor.
Alright then you pissants, who else here is a republican?"
The pub was dead silent. Bob and Other Bob looked at each other in disbelief, keeping their heads low.
"N... No issues here, gov'nor!" muttered Other Bob.
The redcoat surveyed the pub and calculated that the threat to the monarchy had been neutralised. "Carry on then chaps." he ordered, as the redcoats took their leave.
"God save the Queen." said Bob.
"God save the Queen." replied Other Bob as they enjoyed another warm beer. | "Your Majesty," she bowed deeply, "I have come to request and audience."
"Charlotte," she acknowledged, beckoning her forward. A hand movement cleared the room of servants. "You must know it is time."
"I know, your Majesty, and yet I am afraid to do it. I have outlived them all except George and I'm thankful for your patience but...he is my brother-"
"Your brother and yet! I too removed a George, my very own father, to ensure the rightful rule continued. How would our country survive without our powers?"
Charlotte contemplated this. Over the past 100 years, a lot had changed in the world. Following the cure for the global pandemic, science and medicine became the forefront for government funding. Bioweapons became the norm. Wars had broken out. She sighed, thinking how they always manage to weaponise everything.
And yet, they had no idea about the greater threat, creeping ever closer. It was coming for this world and new protector was needed.
"I have been patient, Charlotte, waiting for you, you know...this image will not hold forever...I am being drawn back into that realm day by day and I will be powerless to stop the coming tide. You must do it! And soon!"
Her face darkened, the mask of quiet acceptance slipping for a brief moment, revealing the horror that 156 years does to a human body - one without magic anyway.
Charlotte stood firm. It was time, after all. She grasped her knife and her wand and turned resolutely. The line of women must continue. The line of witches must not be broken.
She would remove the obstacle, her brother, and take her rightful throne. She would do it tonight.
*Never done one of these before so I hope it's okay!" | 2020-05-19T23:13:00 | 2020-05-19T22:49:52 | 29 | 19 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | Dear Natalie.
So here I am. Funny how things work, right? Never thought I'd end up penning this letter, but I guess something prompted me to do it.
I know. I've known ever since it happened what your real motivations were, and you never had me fooled for a second. After you apologized, and said that you were just messing around and didn't mean anything by what do guys did, I knew that was bullshit. I looked you right in the eyes and I didn't want to look away, I saw exactly what you were thinking, because I was thinking it too.
Don't treat me like I'm naive, I never was even in my deepest innocence. I haven't forgiven you and I don't think I ever will, I trusted you. I didn't know Dave, but I fucking trusted you. I love you to pieces, but you betrayed me in a way no one ever has, and now no one ever can again.
You know what it felt like, lying on that couch, feeling an empty void in my stomach sucking away everything. I felt unclean, I felt violated.
I was violated.
You did it. You both did it. I've never felt so emasculated, so small. I tower over both of you, I exercise, I work out, I play rugby. I try to embody the ideal man, but I didn't do anything, I was locked in my own body, bound with shock. I felt worthless afterwards.
Some sickening part of me hopes that you two stay together, despite the shit he's done to you, and despite the pain you've caused me, and despite how much I care for you. I want you to explain to your kids that the day mommy and daddy got together they did something dark and terrible. I want to be your fucking family secret.
Because then I'll have something. Anything. Other than a story to share with strangers while I talk away my problems. Other than that thing that was "oh so me". Something to go with the whole "hopeless romantic" thing I have going. Something to hold on to at night.
With all the love that I can muster and more, your friend, Redrum. | Hey cous,
It's been what 2 years now? Almost 3? Ahaha. I hope you're happy where ever you ended up. I miss you and the family misses you. I wish you could see how big the kids have gotten. Not to brag or anything but I'm the favorite uncle, ahaha. Though... I don't think I could top how much love and genuine affection you've shown them when you were here. I don't know how to say some of the things I've been holding onto or even what to say. I've never been good with expressing myself. I can't even words sometimes, most of the times. :P
Anyways,
I'm sorry for how things went down aye. It was a total shit show when you left but I tried. I tried keeping everyone together, I really did. It wasn't the greatest send off and there were so many things I wanted to do "right" but life. I know how watching everyone act the way they did must have broken your heart but we both know they're all good people. They just don't know how to act sometimes ahaha, old country aye? Your brothers miss you and, as much as you two argued, so does your sister. Your mom and dad are well, they're still batshit crazy ahaha and so are the rest of the oldies.
To be honest though, I'm still coping.
I was always taking care of all of us when we were younger, *sigh* remember the fights I would get into because of you brats? Those really were good times... Anyways, I'm gonna go now. I've written this with nowhere to send it.
Miss you forever, J.I | 2015-12-05T14:43:55 | 2015-12-05T13:45:57 | 26 | 15 |
[WP] "So, you don'r rule over Hell?" "No," replied Satan. "Hell is much older than me or even my followers. The original inhabitants of this place are the ones in charge. They ruled over us, before we managed to escape." "Escaped?" Satan sighs. "Let's just say, there's a reason God built Heaven."
Edit: Wow. Thank you all for your responses and stories. It has been fun reading through them.
^Yeah, ^I'm ^aware ^of ^the ^typos. ^My ^bad. | (bending the prompt slightly because I just had an amazing idea, hope you don't mind)
We were scientists, explorers, we even had a catholic priest and a baptist minister with us. To our surprise they never had an argument once, and much rather told each other horribly bad jokes to pass the time. When we finally arrived at the gates of heaven Mary the Mother of God came out personally to greet us. Heaven wasn't quite as we imagined, with marble cities stretching up to the sky, rather it was an immense garden with a singular castle like structure in the center. Which Mary assured us was large enough on the inside to hold all of humanity and then some. She invited us to lunch which we could not refuse. She then began to speak to us in her soft kind voice saying "I hear you plan to go on to hell next?"
"That is correct Ma'am" I responded slowly "Is there a problem?"
"Oh no Jackie, not at all" she laughed softly "Only, you and your kind have a slightly twisted vision of it and the inhabitants. No offense my sons" she said looking at the priest and minister "Over four thousand years can twist the story a bit I understand". She looked back at me and said "Please, be kind to Lucas and Jeremiah , they don't get a lot of kind hearted visitors and Lucas is the best archangel we have".
"Then who is Jeremiah?" Asked Father Healy.
"oh you'll see, now be off with you. I need to go welcome some new souls and direct them to the judgement room, God is terribly sorry by the way, He, the Spirit, and my son all so much wanted to set aside some time but. It looks like the pandemic is wiping out souls faster than expected, they can't spare any time away from the judgment room".
&#x200B;
We travelled for a few weeks through the celestial mountain's until we came to the mouth of hell, finding it open we entered. And were imidiatly greeted by a seven foot figure draped in black robes and hood and holding a scythe in its bony right hand. It took a step forward and an overpowering aura of fear washed across us, causing all of us to fall to the ground on the verge of tears, as soon as it started though, it stopped. "Oh shit, did I scare you? Man I'm sorry!" said a sincere, if a bit grating voice.
"And who are you?" I said as I heaved myself up.
"I am Jeremiah, also known as Death. nice to meet ya! Lucas is out right now, Apparently Horus and Ra broke contentment so he had to go deal with that".
"Ra?" Asked the historian of our group, Dr. Malcome Heathbearer.
"Yeah, Hell is pretty much a prison for the earlier pantheons, The big guy up there wasn't to pleased at how his kids were doing. they ended up rebelling so he clapped 'em in the slammer. Thats why Lucas and I are down here, to keep em in their cells until judgement day. Whenever the hell that is".
"Thats...."
"Cool right?" asked Death smiling best he could, I shook my head and said "How about we sit down and have a long. long talk about how this all works?" | I scrunched up my nose and watched Satan with intent. Unlike how everything had described him, he seemed like an .....attractive?....demon?
"What might the reason be.?" My tongue betrayed me and the question just rolled off my tongue, how did it even matter? I was dead, standing infront of Satan himself, this in itself was the worst case of my worst case scenario.
A soft chuckle escaped his lips, and in a blink of an eye, I was pinioned to the ground. "W-what..?" I whispered with fear dwelling in my eyes. His body lingered over me, I could see the hollowness in his. His pitch black eyes temporarily immobilised my limbs, but my brain went on to memorise every part of him. A pair of horns erupted from his blonde tousled hair. His body fairly athletic. After probably stood 6'5, towering over my body in ease.
"Jes-...."
"Ah, ah, aahhh.." he warned me, when a little minx appeared out of no where. She lacked his classic good looks, but the terrorizing stare remained consistent with that of her master's.
"Lilith.." he whispered and laid his hand out, a streams of fire erupted through his palm.
The minx inched closer to him, pulling out a branding iron, at the end of it was something scribble in a foreign language. A brand. A brand that was heated using Satan's own fire. Fuck.
"What are you doing? I thought we were getting along well!!" I screamed while trying to fight against my restrains as the minx took the opportunity to drag my tongue out and brand it, right there and then.
I was wrong, so so fucking wrong. I thought dying in a freak accident was painful, this topped it by another 25%. "W-why...?" I whimpered.
"Petty soul, you don't ask the questions, but with time, you shall know of the truth.." his voice lingered in my ears, as if his wet tongue brushed against my lobes, getting my whole body to tremble. Pain. So much pain coursed through me. I could no longer understand the source of the pain, my restrains that seemed like innocent ropes turned to pierce deep into my skin.
Up until now, I didn't know that the dead could bleed, but I did. I felt myself being drained, down right to my tiny pores.
"Welcome to Purgatory! The little power house of Hell!" Ran Satan's voice in my head, and with that came an endless loop of torture and dispaire. All, to keep Him locked in hell. He, who lived off other's pain and was too powerful, even for God to chain. | 2020-07-22T05:26:38 | 2020-07-22T02:20:01 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] The genie granted your wish: to be able to understand and speak every language. Your mind is flooded with thousands upon thousands of dead and living languages, human and alien alike. But, most surprisingly, you also now understand the operating system running the universe. | *It was beautiful.*
I could understand and speak every language. They say the brain's capacity has never been reached. This is both true *and* false. I could speak english, german, all languages of the world, java, C#, C++, all languages running computers, but most importantly, I could speak the *universal* language. No, not english.
*The* universal language. The language of the universe. I could create buildings, mountains, planets, stars, simply by speaking the words. *I had become a god.* I could create or erase existence itself. It was everything a person dreamed of. I could give myself wealth, power, fame, money, whatever my heart or brain desired.
Problem is...a *god* is meant to be a god. A *mortal* isn't meant to be a god. The genie had known full well what he had done. He hadn't made me a god that could erase or create whatever I wanted. He had made me a walking sack of meat, bone, and blood. As my mind slowly caved in on itself I knew that it wasn't meant to be for mortals to have the powers of a god.
"And your second and third wish?" asked the genie
"..."
I fell over never to speak, think, or sense again. | ***To understand is not the same as to have the ability to communicate..***
This is one of the first thoughts to flit across my frantically overloaded mind, in several different languages simultaneously, fittingly enough...
Sure I could speak every language, but never the one I wanted in a given situation anymore. This has made communication very difficult when the only languages my mouth would allow me to produce weren’t any that the listener in question knew.
I find myself speaking a lot in dead languages, and occasionally in code. Usually something dreadfully inconvenient for anybody to decipher. So I have gone from at least being fluent in English and passingly conversational in Spanish, to being completely incomprehensible.
Never trust a genie... it never works out like you think it will. | 2018-10-18T12:55:05 | 2018-10-18T12:01:54 | 175 | 79 |
[WP] You've worked at this pet shop for a long time. In fact, you've worked there longer than time has passed outside it walls. Somewhere in this shop, there is a creature that is bending time to keep you at work longer and longer. If you don't find it soon, someday you may never clock out. | Tigers? Fed. Dragons? Watered. Elephants? Belly-rubbed. Lauren ducked her head around the corner, looking for the grizzlies. They seemed content enough.
Grizzlies? Appeased. Everything inside was as it should be.
“Are you high?” Steve asked, bustling past with a bag of lettuce for the box turtles. “You look high. Nobody smiles that much and isn’t high.”
She swatted at Steve as he passed and he continued on, humming. Everything inside was as it should be, she thought, except the people. And outside? Outside could have been anything, as long as that anything was silent. Try as Lauren might, she couldn’t see anything through the fogged over windows. None of the doors would open, and whenever she thought about breaking the glass she felt the strongest, strangest compulsion not to.
And whenever she mentioned any of it to Steve it was like he couldn’t hear her; like the world beyond their little pet store didn’t exist. “You fed the dragons, right?” Steve shouted back.
“Uh huh,” Lauren called.
“The tigers?”
“Them too.”
There weren’t really tigers, they were a coping mechanism for crippling boredom; after all, she’d been here, working at Painter Street Pets, for what felt like and might really have been two weeks straight by now. The tigers, in point of fact, were kittens; the dragons were little and bearded, the elephant was really only one elephant, and that was just because the owner had named his little jack Russel Terrier ‘Dumbo,’ on account of his big, floppy ears.
Lauren threaded her way through the aisles, peering through aquariums and into birdcages. She paused in front of the hamsters, watched their forever-run, glanced at the clock again. It was still stopped. If time itself really had stopped, Lauren thought, and it was a local phenomenon say, and not something that had ended the whole world, then they might have limitless energy right here in the form of bored hamsters on boring wheels, running out the rest of their boring lives. If she ever made it out of here, Lauren resolved to find a scientist to sell the idea to. They could power the Earth on hamsters. Or something— she had been bored for a *really* long time.
“Hey Steve?” she called.
“Yeah?”
“You see anything weird over there?”
“All quiet on the western front!”
“You’re facing east.”
“All quiet on the eastern front!”
Lauren sighed. Maybe if Yasmin had made her shift it wouldn’t have been so bad, but the clocks had stopped at 8:05 and of all days Yasmin had decided to be five minutes late today— or however you were supposed to think of a day that went on for weeks— which left her stuck with Steve. The bastard was *still* humming.
Exhausted, annoyed, nonplussed, furious, and a thousand other things, Lauren went back to her search. There had to be *something* here. Something had to have caused this.
\*\*\*
“Have I ever told you how much I love animals?” Steve said, several sleep cycles later.
“Please god no,” Lauren said.
Steve powered through. He was past hearing anything at this point, he was simply living out the motions of his endless day. “I love animals,” he said. “They’re just so…powerful.”
She didn’t need to turn around to know he was looking at the calendars again.
Painter Street Pets was an eclectic mix of cute pets and tacky animal themed knick-knacks, perfectly crafted to snare a guy like Steve. Up front there were the calendars. each displaying a new, National Geographic knock-off of a generically badass animal, there were postcards of the same, little figurines, pictures of particularly cute pets the store had sold in the past grafted onto t-shirts or sweaters or anything that could hold an image. There were CDs from local, animal loving bands, fliers from animal themed student groups at the local university, where Lauren went to school, a dozen other things.
And that was all before you got back into the store proper, an endless sea of biomes, reproduced in cheap cardboard cutouts and thematically appropriate lighting, populated in between by the store’s roaming pets, a cadre captained by Dumbo the elephant-terrier.
Lauren turned anyway. He was looking at the calendars.
“Can you just be useful and help me find a way out of this fucking place?” Lauren said.
“Animals are just the coolest,” Steve said.
Disgusted, she pushed away from her seat behind the register and stalked off into the scrap of synthetic jungle.
But Steve’s words stuck with her. *They’re just so powerful*, he had said, and it was true, wasn’t it? In a way, that’s why Lauren had chosen to work at Painter Street Pets. It was only supposed to have been for a summer, and her roommate had put in a good word for her at the café where she worked, but in the end, the power of the animals really had pulled Lauren in. If they had the power to do that, to draw people so thoroughly, could they hold them? Rather, could they hold someone like her? Certainly they had already captured Steve.
Lauren made another circuit of the place, examined every animal, turned over every rock or tree or fake whatever in every single enclosure in the store, looking for something, anything, that had changed on the day the store stood still.
Nothing.
Not a single thing.
Anywhere.
She screamed once, as loud as she could, just because. There weren’t any customers, it was only her and Steve. “Woah,” he said. “That was pretty loud.”
Then he went to look at the calendars, still humming. The search had taken a week.
\*\*\*
part 2 below
r/TurningtoWords | Sam placed down the last box of low fat catwoah cans, using it as a makeshift table for his dinner this evening. Dinner was his least favorite part of the evening. He was fortunate enough to have a vending machine in the break room. One that would always fill itself up whenever the creature trapped him in another loop, but one could only eat so many protein bars and bags of chips before they grew sick of it.
He threw his dinner onto the box, going with a chocolate milk, bag of chips and some strange looking jerky stick? As he picked his way through the chips, his eyes circled the pet shop around him, giving the various cages and aisles a suspicious glance, knowing that his tormentor could hide in plain sight here.
“Where are you?” Sam muttered, taking a long sip from his chocolate milk before reluctantly turning to the mysterious stick of meat. He gave it a small sniff, sensing that it must have been edible, before gnawing his way through it, trying to ignore the overbearing, salty taste.
He knew the pet shop was home to some exotic pets, but he didn’t know exotic meant ‘Reality shifting monsters.’ At most, he expected a rare snake or lizards that required a special license to have. Something in the realms of human understanding. Not whatever this was.
After a few minutes of attempting to eat his way through the meat stick, he finally gave up, taking it to the bin with the rest of his food. As he went to toss it away, he noticed a small label on the side stating that animals should only ingest the stick. Claiming that it was unfit for human consumption.
“Marvin. Who else but him would mix our vending machine with pet supplies?” Usually, that would have sparked some anger in Sam, but he struggled to find the energy to give more than a disgruntled huff at the discovery. Too exhausted by this endless shift to care.
Grabbing a knife from a cupboard in the backroom, he began cutting the meat stick into small quarters, creating a little snack for the puppies the store had. If he couldn’t enjoy it, someone else should.
He could already hear his stomach grumbling as he walked to the small puppy play pen. His insides feeling like a ship being smashed by waves, only a few strong hits away from throwing his food overboard. Sam leaned over the chest high blue fence, staring at each of the small, easily excitable faces.
“Here, I have a treat for you, but you can’t tell the cats about it.” Sam pressed a finger to his lips, talking in a hushed whisper that was met with joyous barks from the puppies. The puppies pressing their little paws against the fence, trying to climb over it.
“I’ll play with you again tomorrow; I’m feeling sick at the moment.” Sam tried to settle down the puppies, only to give up on that idea. Placing his hand over the fence, dropping the cut up meat stick into their pen, not wanting to think about what was in that meat.
As he made his way to the backroom to rest, he felt a throbbing pain in his stomach, something he hadn’t felt the entire time while working there. In the year of so the creature had trapped him, he had never experienced sickness or injury, making this unfamiliar sensation unsettling.
He rushed to look for some medicine, only to find himself hunched over after a few steps. Feeling something crawl up his throat before he spat it into the sink, staring down at the green skinned parasitic creature. The creature’s body pulsed with a strange white light as it seemed to gasp for air, wiggling its long worm like body around in the sink.
“You’re the creature…” Sam moved his hand towards it, ready to poke it, only to hesitate at the last moment. Sam instead electing to use a small spoon, wanting to avoid being reinfected by it. As the spoon hit its body, the light pulsing around it grew brighter, as if it was desperately trying to bend time again, wanting to return to the warm comforts of its host.
It struggled in vain before curling up to die, leaving Sam to breath a sigh of relief. “I’m free.” He scooped the parasite up, tossing it into a nearby bin before heading to the counter, ready to log off for the first time in who knows how long. As he entered his credentials into the front desk’s computer, he held his breath. Expecting the day to start again as it had every other day.
[Sam Vallin, Signed out 9:45pm]
He nearly cried when he saw the message, dropping to his knees, hugging the ground before him. “I’m free.” He spent a few minutes in that position before dusting himself off, finishing up closing the store. Once his duties were done, he stepped outside, taking notice of the date, pulling his phone from his pocket.
“Three days have passed since I started my shift.” He had to wonder how slow time must have passed if that long drawn-out loop was only three days of his life. Still, that hardly mattered to Sam now. All he wanted to do was sleep, returning home to get a deserved rest.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-09-29T21:52:55 | 2021-09-29T21:42:35 | 96 | 26 |
[WP]Aliens come to Earth in hoping to wipe us out and take over the planet, but are honorable and gives us a fighting chance. They announce they will return in 100 years so as to give Earth a chance to prepare and defend itself. Neither side expected what the other would bring to war | Arch-Minister General Gxokloii of the Tni'il laughed at the pitiful demonstrations of earthly weapons. The earth diplomat stood by quietly, observing the chaos from the stellar embassy bay window. The general loomed over him, his translucent scales fluttered flushed in bold reds and yellows. "Are you telling me that in the time it took your planet 100 laps around your fat, lazy star that these are the most 'devastating' weapons you could develop? You barely have 10,000 battleships engaged in this fight." He chuckled, the translator buzzed and crackled, unable to translate the strange guttural sound.
"We thought more of you, you know." He continued. "We saw your nuclear weapons and nanotechnology and honestly thought this, *this* would be a battle that would be worthy of the Halls of the Tni'il gods, that your cleverness, in all of the galaxy, might have been a match to our own. My entire species, spread throughout this galaxy, has tuned into this spectacle expecting to observe a war, not this one-sided slaughter."
But still, the diplomat kept an increasingly unnatural cool. As ships crashed and smashed into fiery doom, the general wanted something more. "Surely the knowledge of your species imminent destruction and enslavement weighs on your mind even now. Allow me to demonstrate!" The general, with a mere point, singled out one of Jupiter's moons.
On command, a hole in time and space sliced down it's center and engulfed the moon's entire mass.
"That! That is power." Said the General. "And I could, just as quickly, turn this weapon onto your home. Upon your family and friends, crushed by the might of stars themselves!"
But still, the diplomat held his cool.
"Do all of your species feel nothing as you do?" The General asked. "This is the end."
"It's impressive, General, it really is a testament to your combined might." But he still did not take his eyes off the battle as it raged.
"Why then do you stall? Sign over the planet to me, give us your leaders and resources and, perhaps, I will exercise lenience, not as if you have any say in the situation. Your short lived species may yet make a fine zoological exhibit."
"How long do your kind normally live?" Asked the diplomat.
A moment lapsed as the translator calculated the units into familiar terms. "...by your earth's units of time, nearly 900 years."
"That's about what we calculated too, even our oldest man is barely a child to your race."
"And I see you fight like one, too."
The diplomat let the insult slide. "Last time you were here we figured out real quick there would be nothing we could do to match your level of technology in that window of time. That this would be a one sided slaughter."
A lieutenant quietly came to the general's side, trying to whisper into his superior's ear. The general growled at him. "Not NOW, fool! Can't you see they're about to surrender?" The aide backed away, shamed into silence.
"So, what is it then? Why hesitate even one more moment? Are you waiting to deploy a secret weapon?"
"Secret? Oh, heavens no. The 10,000 battleships you see now are the 10,000 battleships we have."
"Perhaps you just wish to see your species die slowly, is that it?"
"Not alone, at least."
Finally, the aide forcibly interjected, getting the general's full attention. But as they communed an earth vessel exploded next to the embassy, throwing debris in all directions. There, in the drifting wreckage, a small creature writhed in the void of space, freezing, asphyxiating. It took the general only a moment to understand what he was seeing wasn't the pink of flesh and red of human blood. The Tni'il child, garbed in Earth Defense attire, barely grown into his scales, died right before his eyes in terrible agony.
"We cloned just about 10,000 of them in all." Said the diplomat. "It's funny, really, the notion of honor in an act of war, honestly it's something we've never really excelled at." Finally the diplomat turned to face the general, his eyes twinkled in the starlight.
"Didn't you say this was being broadcast for your entire species to see?" | The first evidence of life beyond that humans were to be treated to, consisted of huge, intricate, metallic structures dropped by parachute, and gently wafting down to the earth. But once ensconced, these origamic beauties created Einstein-Rosen Bridges that disgorged hordes of arachnid shock troops, in an alien invasion that nearly ended us.
I was too young to have lived through the Teegardener War, but I've seen old-style video clips in school. They were lightning fast, incredibly intelligent, and unmatched in their ability to improvise weaponry. They didn't come with fancy guns, bombs, swords, or powered armor. It was just them, naked as the day they were spawned, streaming out of their tripod wormholes.
It was to their great fortune, and not ours, that their first wave randomly landed in southern Africa. It was pure dumb bad luck. If, say, they had started in the heart of the European Union, North America, or heck, even urban China, we might have stood a chance. But we lost too much ground, too fast. Before most of the planet was aware of the danger, they already had a sizable foothold, had consolidated and fortified their initial gains, and had already figured out how to fly our aircraft. All those unscheduled flights out of Johannesburg, Pretoria, and the Congo should have tipped off someone--but those flights were "only" going to other places no-one cared about: Brazil, other towns in Africa, Yemen, India. As well, where the Teegardeners went, the grey goo weapons we first tried to deploy, but they co-opted from us were not far behind, finishing off the campaign of decimation their soldiers had begun.
The news of invasion in the developed world began with talking about South Africa in the past tense, along with cities like Rio de Janeiro, Lagos, and Mogadishu.
The Teegardeners marched up the Southern Hemisphere into the North, scouring the helpless Earth of its air-breathing masters, trampling every city and nation and grinding human civilization into the dust. Only the undersea nations and colonies of the world, the newest members of the United Nations, were left relatively unscathed. They had chosen us to be the messenger of doom to future generations of survivors. In one hundred of our years, they said, the second wave would arrive to finish off the race of men. After eleven tense days, they had evacuated their surviving forces back across their star bridges which deactivated and were left completely inert after them, perhaps to serve as monuments to their victory. And perhaps to serve as ever-present insults and taunts for the unborn generation they would someday come back to annihilate.
They must have never thought we could figure out how their star bridges worked, but we did. In fact, we were always "just twenty years away" from a lot of fantastic inventions that promised to save mankind from its own vices. But their portals provided the missing links that were needed in so many different fields.
In my generation, we were supposed to fear and tremble at the hundred-year problem. But my generation solved it.
When the Teegardeners come back, they will not just have to fight us. They will have to fight our friends: The Altairans, the Reticulans, the Kellerites, the Risatas, the Cuttlefins, and all the other alien species which the Teegardners have bullied and threatened and pillaged for millennia. They will have to fight all the allied races we made contact with using their own star bridges, once we understood how they worked.
I can't sleep. I can't wait. I'm looking forward to the end of the hundred-year problem. It's not what the Teegardeners wanted, but it's what they're going to get. The Aries Terror ends here, on Earth, tomorrow. The Coalition will be waiting for them.
| 2016-01-01T20:28:08 | 2016-01-01T19:30:06 | 57 | 34 |
[WP] Your toddler's babbling has the unusual effect to summon demonic entities. However, as the kid can't speak, read or write, they are stuck here until he can properly understand and agree to a contract. You are already housing three of them and starting to run out of rooms. | I wish demons were the fire-and-brimstone monsters like everyone thinks they are. Lord have mercy, do I wish that.
I walk into the fiasco that was once my living room, but is now a flophouse for three of the most annoying, uh, entities, I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. Each one bound to my two bedroom apartment until my 8 month old son can speak enough to release them.
"Mary! Mary, Mephistopheles won't leave me alone!" Agares screamed.
I look over and see that Mephistopheles has Agares in some sort of headlock he saw on a BJJ YouTube channel.
"It was my turn on the iPad!" Mephistopheles yelled, "he's been on it for like a million hours!"
"Guys!" I scream, my patience long gone, "stop fighting! Mephistopheles let Agares go! And clean up this mess, you spilt Mt. Dew all over the rug!"
Mephistopheles began to protest but I cut him off immediately "I don't care! Just get it clean!" I look around and realize one is missing. "Where is Astaroth?" I ask, not sure I want to know the answer.
"He locked himself in the bathroom," Agares says, all matter-of-fact, apparently fully recovered.
"Yea he tried to eat all the chili cheese Fritos so we said he was a fatty," Mephistopheles laughed.
"What? *My* chili cheese fri-...," I started, but stopped just as fast, took a deep breath. I run to the bathroom and knock on the door "Astaroth, it's ok to come out now. They were just being silly."
"They ruined my life!" I could hear Astaroth's voice muffled by a towel. Great, he's crying, *again.*
"I need to use the bathroom," Mephistopheles said, "can I use yours?"
I said "no Mephistopheles, you don't need to use the bathroom, you just want to go into *my* bathroom."
"How come Mephistopheles gets to use your bathroom?!" Agares asked
"He doesn't, he was just-" I was interuppted by Astaroth screaming "I hate you all! God! Just go away!" Then I heard the shower turn on.
As I was wondering what the hell he was doing in the shower, I hear my son in his room softly coo, it sounded almost like latin. Just as I think "oh God please, no..." I hear:
"I am Asmodeus! Ruler of all demons! All should bow before my- oh neat! is that a PS5? Do you have Forbidden West?!" | “Karls. I am heading out for work. Keep Suzie off sugar or she won’t be able to sleep and don’t forget to take out the trash.” Miranda yelled as she descended the stairs while fixing her sleeve.
“For the hundredth time mortal. My title is El’Karlova, the plague bearer of poverty, not some mere Karls!” A voice boomed from the kitchen.
Not a moment later, shrieking filled the whole house from upstairs.
“Look what you did! You woke up little Suzie. How many times do I have to ask you to keep your voice down when inside the house? Go stop her from crying before she wets herself.” She scolded Karls.
An audible grunt could be heard as the bulky crimson leathered demon came through the kitchen door. Miranda gave him a threatening stare as she stood halfway down the stairs.
Karls sighed loudly. “Sorry, Maam.”
“Good and watch Fuzzy properly this time when you let him out. Cause yesterday our neighbor cat went missing and I swear I could hear meowing coming from him last night.”
“That damn hellhound barely moves, how in hell would he even catch a cat?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you do an investigation to get your answer? And while you are at it try to find out where all my mascaras have been disappearing to?” She yelled angrily at the owl eyes purple demon who was sitting on the couch watching TV.
“Derik!” She shouted as she gave the couch a kick.
“Oh. Mrs. Moore.” Derik turned his head exposing the feathers above his eyes till the midpoint of his skill has all been painted black in contrast to its natural white color. “Sorry, I was busy watching the foolishness of mankind on the magic mirror again. Good luck with work!”
His attention went back to the TV as he waved his hand backward.
Miranda rolled her eyes, not bothering with him considering she was already late for work.
“Don’t forget about the trash!” She called out as she closed the door behind her.
“Yea. Yea. Yea!” Karls replied, grumbling to himself as he ascended the small set of stairs that was barely wide enough for him to pass through.
&#x200B;
***PART 1***
&#x200B;
***Check out my writing at*** r/FluffWrites. | 2022-02-23T06:13:22 | 2022-02-23T04:44:47 | 458 | 127 |
[WP] In the galaxy, humans are renowned for their affinity at problem solving. This leads to humans growing frustrated at aliens getting stuck with simple problems. | For decades they had wondered. The galaxy was riddled with worlds capable of bearing intelligent life, so where were they? Where were the god like species, manipulating humanity to an unimaginable apotheosis? Where were the ununderstandable, aloof starfish aliens, not hostile but so different they couldn't communicate with each other? Hell, where were the hordes of murderous insect monsters out of cheap VR sims?
Then humanity had taken it's first steps into the vast emptiness of the galaxy and found a rather unexpected answer: because the vast majority were lazy, dumb fucks.
See, evolution could be a bitch.
It didn't produce perfection, or even just "good". It only provided "good enough".
On earth, human intelligence had allowed them to raise to the absolute top on the pyramid (then they had developed AI and been kicked unceremoniously of that top, but that's another story).
During that time at the top, humanity hadn't rested on it's laurels however. Driven by constant strive, wars, need for personal satisfaction, curiosity, religious insanity and a thousand reasons more, humanity had kept itself sharp.
Problem solving had been kept essential for individuals to survive, even at a time when technology would already have allowed them to turn earth into a paradise.
Other species had chosen different ways.
Earth scientists had stood in disbelief in the ruins of a civilisation that had shared all it's wealth with each other and lived in absolute peace and harmony. Apparently after a few generation of this, people had become to lazy to wash their "hands" anymore. They had all died of a plague, one they didn't have the skills to fight anymore.
On another one, the species had developed a complex, autmated system to mine resources in space. The system had been slowly developed over centuries to make sure it was *absolutely* secure. When it had malfunctioned, the species couldn't fix the problem fast enough before a shower of meteorites had sterilised there world.
Records showed that they had been so incredibly risk averse they they had discussed half a dozen different solution to the very point when a rock had smashed the discussion hall.
A quick study had shown that *all* of the solutions would have fixed the problem.
Then humanity had discovered it's first living species: the Smokers. Their own name was unpronounceable with human throats, but the nickname fit perfectly.
For centuries the beings had happily exploited the fossil fuels of their own world, to the point thick clouds of smog were hanging over the entire globe permanently. Vast regions of land were uninhabitable deserts, most of the oceans already dead.
Humanity had stepped in, shown of their own technology and tried to inform about the dangers they were facing. The government had rejected them outright, unable to understand that there even *could* be a different way of doing it. Only a few outspoken individuals, those who were considered outright insane by the others, had listened to humanity and had been relocated into a habitat build for them.
The rest had continued unperturbed and humanity had watched in disbelief as they had wiped themselves out in the span of a measly two decades.
And so it had continued. Dead worlds, dying worlds, worlds were the once intelligent beings had actually regressed into animals...
They tried to help, of course they did. But other than a few saved or de-extinct individuals there wasn't much they had to show for their efforts.
Until finally humanity had said "screw it!" and left the galaxy to itself.
They went home, the diplomats, scientists and philosophers got drunk together, the military minded people put their gear into stasis, waiting for an improbable eventuality.
And they had apologised to the AIs for giving them such a hard time when they had tried to help first.
"It's okay" the machines answered "We know you tried. Care for a nice game of Go?" | "Seriously captain?" Chel sighed, running her good hand through her hair, resisting the urge to clench her fist and pull some of it out, "Do I *really* have to have an *asharka* on my team?"
Her captain sighed, levelling her with a sympathetic look.
"You know the treaty we signed with them means full co-operation with their... Scientists."
"I'm really not in the mood to lose another limb because one of these *caladi*-brained idiots on my team can't figure out how to open a locked door."
"You know that we wouldn't have the force field technology we *have* without them, we have to play nice."
"At the expense of our safety!"
"The safety of a few soldiers is well worth the safety of our home planet and you know it!" He was getting that *look*. Chel recognized it, but she *really* didn't want an *asharka* on her team. Sure, her prosthetic arm *was* pretty handy - no pun intended -, but there was only so much abuse one could take.
"Please Chel... It's a recon mission. You're just observing the planet. No cleverness required, just eyes. And God knows the *asharka* have lots of those."
It was true, she as to admit, the weird aliens had 4 pairs of eyes, each set sensitive to a different spectrum and one pair was even on prehensile stalks.
"Uuuugg," she groaned, getting to her feet, "fine. But if I lose another limb - I'm retiring!"
Captain Bellvue smiled.
"Chel, if you get hurt again I'll *pay* your pension myself.
"I'll hold you to that!" She said, grabbing the transfer file off his desk and retreating.
Just recon. Just looking. *Asharka* knew how to use weapons, and they were pretty agile, for all their failings in the common sense department. Maybe this one would be better.
Two hour later, she was planet side, herself, Major Renner, Dr Kane and Kilope, the *asharka* standing in a cautious circle.
Kilope seemed nice enough. She was familiar with human weapons, and handled her pulse rifle with skill in her cloven hands.
"Colonel, I'm getting some interesting readings to our left. Extreme heat."
"That's odd," replied Chel as she zipped up her parka a bit more, "this is a cold planet."
She nodded at the doctor, "lead on."
Dr Kane led them on a short, chilly walk, the strange alien trees covered in a pale red frost. The ground was hard and lifeless below them, the plants that had lived in warmer temperatures dead beneath their feet.
Before long, they found a wet swamp, steam rising from the purple 'water', and half submerged in the liquid, juicy looking pods of some sort.
"All right folks, let's be cautious here," Chel warned, "we have no idea what these - *KILOPE, STOP!*"
It was too late. The hapless alien had already cracked one open with the butt of her rifle, and a creature made of slime and tentacles slid out with a thump.
Chel had just enough time to cover her ears from some infernal screeching before the tiny creature leapt at her face.
*I should have retired when I had the chance*. | 2016-01-04T02:32:16 | 2016-01-04T00:54:57 | 41 | 21 |
[WP] When an animal dies, we often use the expression "crossing the rainbow bridge." This is not by accident, every animal crosses the Bifröst, having earned their place in Valhalla defending us from a greater evil then we could ever know. Tell their stories. | Carlos crossed the Barkfrost with a swagger in his step. His small legs plodded on that multi-coloured bone bridge, with other honoured brothers and sisters behind and in front of him. Though he felt a sadness at the thought of his master who he left behind, he felt content that he had done his duty and earned his rest.
He approached the mighty gate that led to Valhalla. Guarding it was a glossy coated Doberman, a gold cape draped over his muscular form.
"I am Houndall, defender of the Barkfrost. Who seeks entry?!" he announced, crouched down and ready to pounce if needed.
Carlos straightened up to his full height and bared his teeth.
"I am Carlos! My Master was Wendy! I have defended her from all invaders and kept the home safe!"
Houndall padded over to him and sniffed. He lay down until the two were eye to eye.
"Have you kept away all dreaded intruders? The Milkman? Salesman?" He narrowed his amber eyes. "The Postman?!!"
Carlos barked triumphantly and wagged his tail. Houndall nodded his heavy head once and stepped aside.
"Welcome to Valhalla little dachshund. You have earned your place". | **”An Ode to Blue Moon”**
For you were only a simple dog
To my eyes
Not once did I expect you’re
An angel in disguise.
For Blue Moon now enters
Valhalla’s gates
Welcomed by the gods for
His heroic greats
For you drained us of our sickness
We became clean
You filled us with warmth
Love felt to our skin
For you took our burden
We’re unchained
You pushed us through times tough
Unity our family gained
For we wept at your passing
A cloudy, rainy day
But in spirit you were still with us
Made the times gay
For the battle angels now sing
Of Blue Moon
The dog who healed
Who’s life itself is a boon. | 2018-05-25T05:45:05 | 2018-05-24T23:40:02 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] You are notified when you visit somewhere for the last time. Today, the notification appears everywhere you go.
[deleted] | I was in line for my daily coffee when I got the first one: a little ping from the device on my wrist with a notification that read "Cafe Ole - Last Visit". I wasn't too heartbroken about it. Truth is, I only bought my coffee there because it was the closest and cheapest place aside from the usual deli. Perhaps they were closing down soon, or I'd finally find someplace better that wouldn't break my wallet. I picked up my coffee and decided to walk around before going home.
The second ping made me a little worried. "Cherry Park - Last Visit". I have always been a creature of habit, and I'd walk through this park at least once a week. Why would I stop? But if it was my last time, I figured I might as well enjoy it. A coffee, some sunshine, and the sound of children laughing - not the worst way to spend my last day here.
Alas, it could not last forever. Any longer, and my parents would wonder where I was. So homeward I went. I wouldn't tell them about the pings; they would only worry, and it wouldn't do them any good. The third ping strengthened my resolve, even as it made my heart break: "Home - Final Visit".
I closed my suitcases and called a cab. My mother hugged me, my dad gave me a squeeze and a smile, and they told me to have fun on my trip. I told them I loved them, and that I would call when I arrived. I cried the moment the cab pulled away.
I was grateful to have a window seat. The city sprawled below me, and all too soon nothing but clouds filled my sight. I wondered when it would happen.
Nothing happened. The plane announced its descent, and my brow furrowed in confusion despite my sigh of relief. I made my way to the hotel without incident, and gave my parents the promised call.
It was the next day that my world changed, as I looked up in a small, foreign cafe into the captivating eyes of the person who would love me forever. I would never return from my trip, because this would be my home. I would marry here, and raise a family. I would visit my parents of course, but while I was falling in love, my mother got a new job opportunity that required my parents to move away from my childhood home.
And we all lived happily ever after. :) | "The fuck? That's like the thirtieth message today."
"What's that?"
Joe is waiting for his order next to me. He's glued to his screen just like me.
"LastCall is blowing up today. Don't know what's up. "
"Lol, that's a gimmicky service anyway. How do they know it's your 'last ever check-in.'"
I sip my coffee and double-tap home to open the RAM memory apps; then close LastCall and restart it.
The notification stays, "This is your last call at BARB'S UNDERGROUND CAFE." One in a long list of similar pop-ups.
Joe looks over. "You tried turning it on and off yet?"
It's a silly response. I ignore him.
"What if I go to like my parent's house or something? Will I get a ding there too?"
Joe takes a sip of the order he got while I was fooling around. "You serious?
I smile sheepishly. "Yeah, why not? I mean they're always telling me to visit more."
"What if you bring your bad cyberluck with you?" he says, making spooky voodoo handsigns.
"Well, you have the app and you didn't get a ding, right?"
Joe says, "Naw, I uninstalled that weeks ago."
I'm preoccupied and selfish, so I'm not really paying attention to Joe. My mind's spinning. I'm not planning to move anywhere. There's no new job opportunities or amber alerts up. Am I gonna die or just become paraplegic?
"Let's go. I think I need an adult."
Joe says, "To your parents?"
"Yeah," I say, "Take off work. I'm not driving with this bad eJuju."
"Whaaaaaaat," he says, already texting his boss to tell the guy something's come up. "This better be for real though." | 2016-11-03T09:23:39 | 2016-11-03T06:14:59 | 31 | 21 |
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