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[WP] You are a retired assassin. The only thing you want is to die. Keeping you from this is the fulfillment of your last contract: A celebrated performer paid you to kill him if he ever tried to make a "comeback" as an old man. After years in retirement, the performer announces a world tour.
[WP] You are a retired assassin. The only thing you really want is to die. The only thing keeping you from this is the fulfillment of one contract: A celebrated performer paid you to kill him if he ever tried to make a "comeback" as an old man. After a number of years in retirement, the performer announces a world tour.
HAVE AT YOU, SssssNAKE. | The cane clicked softly down the long tile hallway. John's liver spotted, pale, wrinkled hands clutched the handle of the cane tightly. He was already breathing heavily and beads of sweat ran down his crooked spine. His eyes were fixed on the door at the end of the hallway. The bright golden star taped to the door pulled him forward.
A contract is a contract, John thought to himself as he struggled down the hallway. In his prime he could have crawled faster than this. He paused to wipe sweat from his brow with an old stained handkerchief. The door opened and a giant of a man stepped out. The man was nearly as wide and tall as the doorway. His shiny bald head nearly touching the top of the door jam.
"Old man, what are you doing down here?" The giant asked John.
John's cane continued to click down the hall.
"Old man, I asked you a question!" The giant's voice rose in anger.
Only a few more feet go. The man stepped away from the door and stomped his way toward John. His face growing red his beady eyes nearly popping out of his face. He reached a hand out to stop the old man.
The cane shot up with incredible speed. The hardwood handle connected with the giant's throat with a sickening crunch. The giant fell to the ground clutching his collapsed wind pipe desperately sucking in air.
I still got it. John smiled and walked forward a little faster. The rush of adrenaline filled him with fire. A feeling he had missed for such a long time. Wrinkled pale fingers wrapped themselves around the door handle and twisted.
An older man sat in front of a mirror lined with lights. He was brushing out his shoulder length black hair while he hummed. The brush stopped mid stroke. Wide terror filled eyes stared at John in the mirror.
"No. Please no." The artist begged.
"We have a contract." John's voice came out in a ragged whisper.
The artist tried to stand from his chair but John's hand came down on his shoulder. The artist struggled for a second before he felt the cold barrel of the gun press against his neck.
"No one would believe that I shot myself the night of my triumphant return." The artist said.
"You're right."
John reached into his pocket. He set down the orange bottle full of small white pills.
"Pour yourself a drink, I don't have all night."
The artist poured his favorite whisky into a glass with shaking hands.
"I thought you were dead." He whispered.
"Not yet."
With trembling fingers the artist opened the bottle and poured the pills into his palm. He sobbed as tears ran down his cheeks.
John's cane clicked down the hallway as the paramedics rushed past him. Maybe I should come out of retirement too. He shook his head and laughed.
---
Check out /r/Written4Reddit if you liked it! | I lined up the aging rocker in the sights of the scope.
*I'm too old for this shit.*
My hands were still steady although time told me otherwise. I breathed long, steady breaths before I clicked the call button on my earpiece.
The man on the scope reached deep into his pockets. Not recognizing the number he returned it from where it came.
*Really? You gotta be kidding me.*
I groaned and dialed again. Trying to focus the severity of the situation through the phone line. Still, it was to no avail. The man returned the phone to his pocket and continued to wait for his ride.
*Motherf-, if he doesn't answer this time I'm shooting.*
Dial.
Finally his raspy, broken voice came over the line.
"Who is this?"
"I think you know Mr Tyler." His face went pale as I watched him through my scope. "You asked for this, years ago. Rather die a legend then become a relic. Just like you, I came out of retirement for one last gig."
His panic eyes began to race around, looking for me although I knew he wouldn't. "Where are you?" he ventilated into the earpiece.
"Steady your breathin' lad. Otherwise people might think you've seen a ghost. You don't want to seem the paranoid old man that you are." I smiled, though he couldn't see.
"I take back the deal! I take it back."
"Can't do that lad, no refunds. I got payed so I got paid to cater the party, can't let the goods go to waste. A man's only as good as his word after all."
Tears began to stream his face. He was an animal panicked, knowing these were his last few moments on earth.
"I'll pay you more! I'll pay you to back out."
My voice grew stern. "Now that would be unprofessional lad. Wouldn't want that tarnish on me reputation. Are you ready for the last song?"
"No!" He shouted into the phone. "Please!"
Sympathy struck me but I shooed it away and squeezed the trigger. The hiss of displaced air barely a whisper in the busy street.
"Dream on, Mr Tyler."
________________________________________________________________
You liked this?
check out my subreddit.
/r/abdantaswrites
Or my book!
[WINDS](https://www.amazon.com/WINDS-Elemental-Eye-Book-1-ebook/dp/B018TGN8VO?ie=UTF8&qid=&ref_=tmm_kin_swatch_0&sr=)
| 2016-05-12T06:04:17 | 2016-05-12T03:45:24 | 41 | 20 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | "So, about the humans..." Said a voice with diplomatic neutrality.
Groans from a myriad of different species' voices could be heard throughout the conference hall. There was a meeting being held on how to properly welcome these new, strange creatures now that they had, technically, at least, achieved Faster Than Light travel.
"We organised this meeting to discuss them! When are you all going to stop pussyfooting around the issue!?" The same voice declared, with a level of anger hard to believe considering their tone mere seconds ago.
"Blarpart, I know you're a workaholic and all that but have you SEEN these...creature's form of FTL "travel"?" A gruff voice from somewhere in the hall responded over the din of arguing and groans of "are we really fucking doing this?"
"I agree that it's...unconventional but-"
The word "unconventional" being used to describe human beings' method of intergalactic travel caused an uproar among the crowd.
"Hey! HEY! HEYYYYYY!" Interjected Blarpart with an odd mixture of rage, impatience and exhaustion. "It works for them, who are we to judge?"
"Don't you get it? They use possibly the most unstable thing in the universe, a wormhole, and pump it with a load of who knows what to make it last more than a nanosecond and to a greater size than a few atoms and just *sigh* go through it and hope for the best"
"As I said, uncon-" Blarpart thought better of using *that* word again and instead chose to deflect the conversation in the hopes of finishing and grabbing something from a Space Denny's on the way home.
"Ok, how about we just ignore them? They're not going to last long as a species if THAT'S how they traverse space. From our observations, their 'wormhole jumping' has about an 80% chance of failure. All in favour?"
A chorus of relieved "aye"s reverberated throughout the room.
"All opposed?"
...
"Well then, that settles i-"
"YOU FUCKING WOT, M8?" A voice shouted from just outside the hall.
"Can I go without being interrupted for ONE MINUTE?" Blarpart said in an exasperated sigh.
And with that, a duo of humans, one tall with brown hair and the other short with black hair, burst into the hall with their bottles of what they call "Mountain Dew" and bags of "Doritos" and started going on about how we can't "diss" them like that.
"You know what? Fuck these alien squares, wanna go piss into a black hole?" The taller one said.
"Yeah, dude. Definitely." The shorter one replied with an almost endearing level of excitement at the prospect.
And with that, the duo left as quickly as they had entered.
"What just happened?" A member of the crowd ask with a disbelieving tone.
"...Humanity. Humanity happened" said Blarpart, with yet another sigh.
Spelling and removing the pretentious "fin". | Faster than light (ftl) travel happens fast, people knew that from the outset.
Ftl traffic accidents happen faster, people were just smart enough to figure that out beforehand.
What most people didn't know before they tried faster than light travel, however, was that even if it doesn't go wrong directly going about it the wrong way was about as obvious to the rest of the universe as a steam-train going the wrong way down a busy one way street.
Actually it's more obvious than that but analogies on a galactic scale tend not to work if taken literally.
you see, the elegance of other species systems such as Kantian gates and salec skip drives is two fold, the ship itself never reaches particularly high speeds and can be sure that there is nothing between it and its destination except extradimensional shift energies, which dissipate in their own extra dimension.
The mildly less elegant wave riders and pulse tubes are still practically applicable because of the ability to steer them whilst travelling using small on-board EM thrusters.
One can almost imagine the conversation that led to it's design, the humans first light speed capable craft (the Multiplanetary Intergalactic Lightspeed Vehicle.)
Scientist 1: "so you're saying we can really kill two birds with one stone here?"
Scientist 2: "absolutely! the very mechanism that ensures we hit nothing on the way is what we'll use as an energy sink to slow the craft at its destination!"
Engineer: "not only that but it mainly uses technology we've had at our disposal for decades, we set up some working models in the Nevada desert."
Scientist 1: "perfect, it's so logical that the shortest route as the crow flies would be the best."
consequently the MILV had only one way of ensuring it didn't collide with objects, it destroyed them with a massively powerful laser beam fractions of a second before the fission igniters started its faster than lightspeed adventures. The MILV also had only one way to stop travelling faster than the speed of light and that was to actually catch up with its own humongous laser pulse, the fallout from which necessitated some rather hefty shielding.
So there are two ways in which thousands of tonnes of train forcing there way down a road is a good analogy for human ftl travel.
first off everyone on that street is going to watch in total horror as the humongous lump of metal barges everyone's nicely proportioned cars into the newly created wreckage piles at the side of the road.
secondly you cant stop a train unless it's the end of the line. | 2017-03-31T10:44:01 | 2017-03-31T07:52:19 | 31 | 11 |
[WP] Demons roam the Earth. They can't be killed. They can't be stopped. But they can only hurt you if you look at them directly. Because of this, children must be blindfolded until they are old enough to understand the consequences. | I remember the day my blindfold first came off very well.
I was still young, maybe 6 or 7, and it was the first time I was allowed out of the house without my blindfold on. I kept looking around at all the people with downcast eyes. Nobody would look at one another, nor up at the beautiful blue sky. Nobody but me.
My mother kept telling me to look down, or she'd put the blindfold back on, but I kept on peaking. The world was so beautiful outside, but every single person was missing it, too scared of seeing something that frightened them.
I refused to be frightened.
It was less than a week before I saw my first demon. We were headed to the market to buy supplies to make a cake, when I saw it looming down the street. Everybody else just ignored it, eyes fixed on the pavement, as it strode down the centre of the road.
Nine foot from paw to shoulder it had a feline body, but covered in scales. Its head was a strange combination of lizard and mammal, with eyes lacking even the empathy of a cat. Two eyes. Two, very green eyes.
It was looking at me. I was looking at it.
It had lunged and grabbed me up from next to my mother, dangling me from an uncomfortably arranged thumb-like claw on its paws. It held my up to its face and looked at me and, I guess smiled? It wasn't like a human smile.
I was scared. Of course I was scared, but some instinct in me cried out to fight, and so I kicked. Down and out, hard as I could. My shoe caught it right in the eye, taking it fully by surprise. I think it had never seen a human fight back before.
It went into a rage, smashing me down onto the pavement and rubbing at its eye. I was dazed, but fearful enough to run. And so I ran, into a nearby alleyway and I hid, trying to hold back the sobs as I held my very broken arm.
I could hear it searching around looking for me. I didn't know where my mother was, but everybody else had run, scattering when the creature had grabbed me.
I peaked out of the alley, looking for my mother, and that's when I saw it. I saw the creature in profile. It was sniffing around for me, with one eye closed. A drip of blood was coming from the tear-duct.
That was when I first realised that nothing was immortal. It had all been a lie.
That was when I knew I would make demons fall. | Who was it, that said the eyes were the windows to the soul?
They teach it to children when they're young, cover their eyes with a cloth and drill it into their heads. *Never make eye contact.* It's a strange spectacle to see parents lead their sons and daughters, their own eyes averted towards the ground. The blind leading the blind.
But I was raised differently, taught not to fear what lies in those windows. The soul, I was told, is a wonderful thing, and to view it is to deepen your connection with someone immeasurably so. A queer thought, in this day and age. One that allowed me to keep my head held high in a world where everyone bowed theirs.
Tonight was no exception. As I walked down the street, the chill of the air seeped through my jacket, dulling my senses. I had to keep moving, had to find something, someone, who could bring my warmth back to me. Reignite my fire. I knew who I was looking for.
I turned into the local watering hole, a dingy joint. The regulars were all there, huddled over their drinks. Some locked gazes with those they knew were safe, their conversation flowing freely, stiffly. Others huddled around tables, striving in vain to steer their words towards a more worthwhile topic than shoe style. Cellphones, once mocked for their enchanting natures, were a popular option. Pitiful.
She alone was unafraid to meet my gaze. She sat across the room, drinking me in as I was her. Her soft, supple legs, leading into a curvaceous waistline and a rather voluptuous chest. I could see auburn hair trailing down, framing her chin and her rather devilish looking smile. It was almost too much to bear, so tantalizing to look up just a bit further. But I did.
As her smile faded and her face drained of color, I felt her warmth seep into my body, a connection made. Her soul was positively beautiful.
And it would be ours forever.
*Feedback Appreciated* | 2016-09-30T01:03:09 | 2016-09-29T22:02:57 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] You stumble upon old home videos of you and your siblings as toddlers. Nostalgia fades when you realize something isn't quite right... | I felt a wave of nostalgia, as I parked my car in front of the old house on the countryside that my parents called home. Memories of my brother and I playing with the water hose during the hot summer days, made me smile as I walked to the door with my luggage. Before I could even knock on the door, my mother was running out the door to greet me.
"Oh Jordan, it's so good to see you," she said with a huge grin on her face as she hugged me.
I remained quiet, with a sad look on my face as I sighed. Her smile quickly faded.
"Sweetie?" She asked me in a distressed tone. "What's wrong?"
"Mom.." I hesitated. "I'm Mike."
She displayed a look of shock before quickly grabbing my arm, revealing the birthmark on my left hand, the only way one could tell the difference between me and my twin brother, Mike.
"Nice try," She said sarcastically. "I haven't gotten that old yet."
I laughed and hugged her, as we walked inside the house. The front door led directly into the kitchen where all the food made for thanksgiving dinner was prepared.
"Where's dad?" I asked my mother as I admired all the food.
"He's gone into town to get the turkey," She replied. "He should be back in about an hour."
"I assume Mike isn't here either?"
"Nope, you're the first to arrive."
"Do you know when everyone else will get here?"
"Well, your aunt and uncle will be here around six, and I think your cousins should gotten off their plane by now."
A moment of silence passed between us
"Well, make yourself at home." She told me. "I need to finish up the rest of this food."
"Is there anything I can help you with mom?" I asked.
"Oh no, it's OK Jordan. I know you must be tired from your trip over here." She replied.
"Alright, just call for me if you need any help."
She smiled caringly at me. "I will."
I walked out of the kitchen, and proceeded to explore the house, when I caught sight of the door to the basement. I smiled and went in there, remembering how I would always beg my parents when I was little, to let me move my room into there so that I wouldn't have to share a room with Mike. They would always refuse because we used the basement for to many things already.
When I turned on the lights, the smell of dust hit my nose. My parents obviously haven't been down here since Mike and I left for college. As I was exploring the room I noticed was a box filled with old cassette tapes in the back of the room. I chuckled to myself thinking that maybe I could find a few videos to embarrass Mike with. I picked up the box and brought it to the couch in front of the old T.V that we would always watch movies together and I started playing them thinking that I would only look at a few.
The first one was a video of my dad walking outside to film Mike and I, who looked five years old at the time playing tag outside. He watched for a while before telling us to come inside. One of us ran up to him and waved, revealing a birthmark on his hand. My father high fived him and asked if he had fun playing with Jordan. The video then ends.The second one was of one of us singing the national anthem at a school recital. After whoever it was finished singing, he caught sight of the cameraman and waved revealing the birthmark. My mom could then be heard screaming, "Good job Jordan!" The video then ends. The third one was a baby video of Mike and I. One of us was on the floor playing with my dad and the other was being held by my mother. After a while, we both started to get cranky so they went to put us in our cribs. Before my mother could put whoever she was holding in his crib, he attempted to grab the camera revealing the birthmark on his hand. She playfully scolded him saying, "No no no Mike, don't try to take the camera." The video then ends.
I ended up watching all of the tapes in the box. I was becoming increasingly disturbed with each one. I highly doubt it was just a coincidence that Mike and I had switched names in every video recorded before we started school. | **Hey, Dad! Come here, look at this!**
What is it, David?
**I know I'm only 16, a star high school football player, and pretty new at this whole exposition thing--**
I'll say! And I'm the one who worked three jobs to make sure you had all of this football equipment because I knew my boy was gonna be making a path for the pros.
**Nice exposition, Dad!**
Anyhow, what's on your mind?
**Well, I'm watching all of these home movies of when I was, like, two and shit. And there's me, and there's Todd, my older brother--**
He's in college now, speaking of exposition. Yes siree! Just started his sophomore year. Majoring in electrodildonics, whatever that means.
**He wants to make sexbots.**
Sexbots?
**Yeah, robots you can fuck.**
Wow, really?
**What did you think electrodildonics were?**
I don't know. Didn't care. He's not playing football. He can suck a robot dick or pussy or asshole as far as I care. Meanwhile, you'll be getting the real thing. Anyhow, enough about the cyber pervert kid working on Masturbation 2.0.
**Yeah, so anyway, there's me, there's Todd, and there's you. So who's holding the camera?**
The camera?
**It's the thing? The thing what made the moving pictures on the monitor?**
Not sure I follow you, but go on.
**So who was holding it? Mom left after I was born--**
She said she didn't like the look of you.
**And you're way too unpopular for a girlfriend--**
Don't I know it! Mom was the exception. You know how I landed your mother?
**No.**
Well, it didn't cost too much, that's the important thing. So what was the question again?
**Who was holding the camera?**
Kim Jong-Il
**The dictator?**
No, the one that solves crimes on on the CBS true crime and mystery drama. Of course the dictator!
**Wait, why was Kim Jong-Il taking video of us?**
You know... I don't know.
**You don't know?**
Never really thought about it before.
**The second supreme leader of North Korea shot a home movie of us playing touch football and you have... NO IDEA... how it HAPPENED?**
Nope! But I'm always forgetting stuff. Where are my keys?
**And this doesn't disturb you?**
Of course it does. If I can't find my keys, how will I ever start the car?
**No! The whole home movie thing you can't remember?**
David, enough. Hell, lots of stuff I can't remember. And who watches home movies anyway, you fucking pervert.
**There's something you're not telling me.**
I swear! I don't know.
*Perhaps I can be of assistance.*
**Kim Jong-Il!**
Kim Jong-Il!
*Yes, it is I. Kim Jong-Il, the inspiration for the CBS true crime and mystery drama not, you know, the other one. Just so we're clear. Anyhow, I think I can solve this mystery.*
**Yes, tell us!**
Yeah, where are my keys?
*In the car. You forgot to take them out.*
**No, I mean why did the other Kim Jong-Il take a home movie of us?**
Hurry up, ok? I gotta get to the store. It closes soon.
*Kid, let this Kim-Jong business go. His home movie skills suck, anyways. You call THAT a close up? I am so out of here.*
**Wow, I've never seen anyone vanish in a puff of smoke before.**
Want anything from the store?
**Closure.**
Not happening. | 2015-08-26T22:25:16 | 2015-08-26T21:57:19 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] A man lies on his deathbed, memories of his favorite videogames flashing before his eyes as he expires. Death watches, and intrigued, offers the man a deal if he can best him at his game of choice. | Death violently threw its controller across them room. **Fuck This! This is Fucking Bullshit!** It shouted.
Basking in the thrill of victory, Meg calmly placed her controller on the table in front of her and said "A deal's a deal reaper. I won. You didn't. I get another life. A 1up if you will." Meg chuckled to herself, pleased with her relevant reference.
**You Call That Shit Winning?** demanded Death, turning to Meg and gesticulating wildly, **No. I Want A Rematch. No. I Want To Play A Better Game. One Without That Bullshit.** Death was stood right in front of Meg, and his deep, empty eyes were staring into her own. **It Can Be Another Racing Game. How About Forza, Grand Turismo? They're Good. Hell, How About We Race in Real Cars? What Could Be Better Than That?**
Meg briefly struggled for words, what with the very concept of Death standing before her and whining like a petulant child. But only briefly.
"Listen" she said, "If I'd known that the Destroyer of Worlds was such a baby, I wouldn't have bothered dying in the first place. As it stands I did die, and then I beat your challenge. Now send me back to my new life, or I'll kick up one hell of a fuss around her!"
Death stalled, stunned by a mortal talking to it like that.
**Fine** he sighed, **I'll send you back**. It waved a hand and Meg vanished in a puff of void, she'd be born nine months later to a rich Korean family, and live a long, successful life. Death turned to leave the non-place where they had played their game, to get back to work, and as it did so it mumbled one thing to itself:
**Fucking Blue Shells**. | "Are... are you Death?" the man spoke with a painful rasp, "Have you come for me?".
"I came for your mom last night" Death replied in the voice of an annoying thirteen year old. Death, you see, was a Call of Duty fan.
"Wha What?" the man seemed surprised.
"I, Death, banged your mom last night. Also, yeah, I have come for you".
The man started getting flashes of this same type of speech happening during his own Call of Duty days. He had been pretty good in his prime, and so he got an idea.
"Death," he started "If I can beat you in a game of Cod, will you let me live".
"Yeah sure, but I'll fucking wreck your ass. Like I did to your mom. Last night."
Just then an Xbox 360 and a 48 inch flatscreen TV appeared out of thin air. Death handed a controller to the man and then spawned one of his own. The game was Black Ops 2.
"We're playing on Nuketown. First person with 10 kills wins." Death stated bluntly. The game began and ended quickly. Death 360noscoped the shit out of the man 7 times, and then called in a stealth chopper to finish him. When it was over Death commented, "I just pwned your ass, faggot". The man sighed, knowing his life was over as Death approached him. | 2014-08-16T13:32:17 | 2014-08-16T11:00:00 | 67 | 21 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has | "Hey! That's the guy that killed my cousin! Pull over!"
*Here it comes again,* I thought to myself. I turned to face my attacker. The third in as many days. Some punk with a third-rate powerset. Probably born since the District was walled off.
I sized him up. No obvious indicators of his power. Nothing obvious on his clothes to indicate anything either.
"You're nothin'! you hear me!? Nothin'!"
I ignored him and walked closer for a better look. He pulled a gun out of his vest and shot me in the head.
---
"Hey! That's the guy that killed my cousin! Pull over!"
*Gun in the vest, go for that first. Either wants to show off his gun, or his power isn't a combat power.*
"You're noth- huh?" I cut him off as I pulled the gun out of the vest. Biometrically locked. Useless to me. I tossed it aside. I examined his response. Too stupid to be surprised that I knew he had a gun. Not surprising, I suppose. He wound up for a haymaker. I watched for any giveaways. Nothing off about his stance, no glowing motes or strange noises. I braced my self for impact, making no effort to dodge. Predictably, it knocked my head clean off.
---
*Gun in vest, something that acts like super strength, maybe kinetic manipulation?*
"Hey! That's th-" I cut him off with a thrown chunk of debris. No reaction whatsoever.
"You're dead, you piece of shit! I'll fuckin pick my teeth with your bones!" Curious. Altered dietary requirements, or just a threat? I couldn't smell anything odd on his breath, and all his teeth looked standard issue. Probably just a threat.
I go for his gun, just like last time, and throw it away. He winds up for a haymaker, which ends up being too slow to hit me. I take an experimental punch. The relatively light jab does nothing to him, but breaks my arm. *call it kinetic manipulation then.*
His next attack crushes my ribcage.
---
I reset to before his car comes around the corner and look around my environment. There's no such thing as invincible. Honestly, simple immunity to physical harm is one of the least annoying powers to deal with. Someone seemingly invulnerable might be vulnerable to poison, or radiation, or maybe just still needs to breathe. That'll do, right there. If his only power is contact-range crude kinetic manipulation, this can of... aerosol brake cleaner should do the trick. I look on the warning label. It's an older product, which usually means more poisonous. An entire half of the can dedicated to warnings not to ingest or expose to eyes. Good.
"Hey! That's the guy that killed my cousin! Pull over!"
He steps out of the car.
"You're nothin'! you hear me!? Nothin'!"
I duck toward him and retrieve his gun. He grabs for me, an attack I easily dodge. I raise the can to his face and press the trigger. He screams as the chemicals contact his soft tissues. I don't think it'll kill him but... I take an experimental kick at his side as he writhes on the ground. No reaction. Means he needs to be able to concentrate. I drag him over to the edge of the sidewalk while his driver looks on in horror. I take his head and slam his open mouth down on the curb twice. He stops moving.
It's all over too quickly for a real crowd to gather, but the driver and the little old lady crossing the street stare, wide-eyed. I don't think anyone has ever guessed what my power lets me do. Fine by me. They're welcome to keep coming. They'll run out of challengers long before I get tired of destroying them. | Oh yes. I definitely remember, every single detail. He was wearing a red and silver striped tie, for example. How could I ever forget that day? I walked into his office as number 21,458. When I left, I had his number 1.
Quite a frenzy it set off, you know? At first, people didn't even know it was me. I remember the first reporter I ever talked to, after she'd discovered that I was on his calendar for 2 PM, right about when he'd died. First question she asked me? "Who else was in the room with you?" Thanks for the vote of confidence, lady.
Well, eventually they managed to wrap their puny minds around it. I was the new #1 in town, and I had the token to prove it. News organizations exploded: some nobody is now the most powerful person in town? No one had even witnessed what my power was! There was endless speculation and chatter about what I could do. I remember this one professor from the university, speculating that I could make someone explode just by thinking about them. All sorts of self-proclaimed experts came forward to discuss it. And don't you know it, all of them were pounding on my door for that exclusive interview.
Well, it became pretty clear that I wasn't talking. So then the challenges started coming. Who was first? I think it was that bloke who could control flames. Nice guy, bit of a hothead...
No? Nothing. Fine.
Well, I met up with him and accepted the challenge, but on the condition that we fight in an empty room, no cameras or witnesses. He agreed, and we found an empty gym on the outskirts of town. Well, of course you know what happened to him, and to that entire neighborhood. I made the same offer to any other challenger: I was taking callers, but only if we fought alone. Same offer still stands, you know, but it's been years since anyone has taken me up on it.
Once it became pretty clear that no one was going to take the number from me, or see me in a fight, then they tried other methods. You know how many women I met who tried to seduce the information out of me? Hell, that's why I'm *still* a bachelor: I just can't trust any of them. Then came the offers: money, jobs, protection, you name it. Every prominent member of the city wanted me as their bodyguard, but on the condition that I told them what I could do. I told 'em to shove it. Then, they went after my friends and my parents, badgering them for information. So I became a recluse. Bought this cabin up here, just me and Buddy. My only friend; dogs don't care what my power is. And that's been the story ever since. I'm no longer involved in the tournament scene, and I guess the city is just going to have be content with only having a number 2.
Now, if you'll excuse me, Buddy and I have some fish to catch, so I'm afraid this interview is over.
All right, one last question...
Yes, I knew this would be coming. Did you really think it would be that easy to get it out of me? Nice try. | 2014-12-18T13:17:44 | 2014-12-18T11:07:40 | 1,338 | 300 |
[WP] Your personal guardian angel from heaven is very upset with you. It's not because you did something wrong. It's because you're an extremely boring person to watch over. | An accountant. Why did you have to be an accountant?
And not even a “I have fun on the weekends because I’m cooped up in a cubicle all week” accountant. But just a boring little toad of a person, who doesn’t need me for anything because you never go anywhere where you could be endangered.
I mean, sure, you ride the bus. But Saint Christopher is on that watch. And God help you if you step on his toes… Man, that guy can pitch a fit.
You though! You don’t even go out after dark, for ANYHTING. You even regularly inspect your kitchen appliances, and cut your food up into small enough bits that you can’t choke.
Please, don’t get me wrong. I am glad that you are safe. It would break my heart if anything were to harm you. But you just sit at home every waking minute of the day when you aren’t at work, or fetching more things that enable you to stay home.
You know what you are? I think I just figured it out. Have you ever watched paint dry?
THAT’S YOU! Gloppy, half dried paint. Just sitting there. Existing. I know that if I look away, a bug will land on you and ruin everything. So I just have to wait. And stare. And watch you be… sad.
That is the worst part. MY boredom is bad enough. But you’re not even happy or content. You’re just scared.
Scared of the world, and what it might do to you. You act like I’m not even here. Like you can’t trust me to do my job. I’m honestly starting to worry that if I don’t get you out of this box you call an apartment, there might come a day when you give up. When you succumb to the one danger that you don’t know how to avoid.
Look at you. Walking down the steps to your mailbox. Avoiding eye contact with everyone, including the guy in 4C. You two could be great friends, but you won’t risk it. “What if he doesn’t like me? What if he laughs at me? What if it doesn’t work out and I have to see him in the halls every day?” All your worries...
You know what? Fuck you. \*smack\*
Oh, would you look at that. Your mail is all over the floor, and Mr. 4C is helping you pick it up. Oh no, he’s talking to you. What do you do now!?!
Enjoy your chaos. I’m tired of letting you hide. | "Aren't you supposed to be... *good*?"
"I'm an angel, love, of course I'm good."
"Then why did you just try to kill me?" I hissed at the winged celestial being floating to my right.
"Kill you?" He had the audacity to look surprised. "Surely not! I was just trying to help you have some fun."
Earlier today, he was "trying to help me have some fun" by shoving me off the classroom window during lunch break.
"I thought humans always landed on their feet," he said sullenly.
"That's *cats*! Humans tend to break their bones and die when shoved off high places!"
Luckily, it was only the second floor window, and I managed to grab onto a tree branch instead of hitting the ground. Not so luckily, I had to hang on to the tree for 15 minutes, with all the kids gathering and whispering bellow me, before a teacher came over to help me down.
"Look," the angel said sheepishly, maybe finally feeling guilty, "It's not my fault that you're so boring. I was just trying to spice you up a bit, you know."
I gaped. Where all angels like that? If so, we were truly doomed.
I frowned. Maybe he wasn't an angel? Maybe he was a demon disguised as an angel!
According to him, he wasn't even supposed to show himself to me. He was my guardian angel, meant to look after me from afar. But apparently I've been so boring to look after that he felt the urging need to come and meddle with my life.
I admit, I didn't have a lot of things going on at the moment, but I was *not* boring. This angel was just a whackjob, and if I didn't do something about him then he might very well get me "accidentally" killed before I graduated high school.
If this angel was considered "good", then maybe I needed "evil" to help me out here.I was going to have to summon a demon. | 2020-04-22T01:22:14 | 2020-04-21T23:41:15 | 51 | 30 |
[WP] “Please.” The Villian whimpers. “There must be something I can do.” You stare at your clipboard. “Lose the spikes and turn off the volcano and we can talk.” Being an OSHA auditor for superpowers is a whole new type of power trip.
Edit: Many thanks for the gold and silver! Your excellent stories, however, are the real award. :) | The incessant clickity clack of the pen was driving the "power broker" nuts..
"Could you just...put the pen away?? " the power broker snarled.
"And why would I do that? " the auditor snapped back.
"Nevermind...you people never listen anyway" he muttered under his breath.
"What was that???" the auditor retorted.
"Nothing Nothing" he said with hands raised trying to put the auditor at ease
The power-broker couldn't help but see the irony of his position. His entire enterprise was built on securing goods, people, and strategies for the criminally powerful. He was the one who secured the lasers for the "Mad Doctor" and the destroyed the federal building in 13 countries for the "Demon's Mob"
Notoriously elusive, hard to catch, and some doubted the existence of...but....
*The OSHA Officer was real.*
A bead of sweat rolled down the brokers face, hidden behind his dark sunglasses and the drop absorbed by his dark suit. He looked cool as a cucumber, except for the fact that he wasn't.
*Why me dammit?*
It made no sense. He covered all of his tracks as always and his partners had the highest discretion. Unable to stand the silence as the auditor looked around:
"Was it Ronnie who tipped you off?" the broker politely asked.
The auditor peered his sight back to the broker who was nervous to make eye contact.
"What tipped me off?.... What tipped me Off?..you really gotta ask that? " the auditor replied.
"What tipped me off was the goddamn military parade runnin through chicago!" the auditor snapped.
"You know our mandate - Mr."Broker" and you think you can assemble what the ever living hell you like in downtown chicago? Ohhhhh hell naw "
"I can always relocate, I promise" he quickly replied.
"How the hell you gonna relocate a goddamn missile factory and 3 acid pits fool? " auditor said.
"Do you *even* have permits for this shit????"
"Umm no, I'm the villain remember? I don't apply for permits..." the broker asked puzzled.
"Maybe the fancy european OSHA let's that slide but not here fool, you're in my jurisdiction now, you better believe those vats are a tripping hazard- not even a wet floor sign smh..."
The auditor looked angry and disappointed. The power broker had no idea what to do - he was about to fail inspection, which meant....losing his position in the Villains union, being a laughing stock to his peers, and worst of all: reassignment of powers.
"Please sir! I love what I do! Don't take this away from me , I beg of you!!!" the broker said with a deep charge in his voice.
"There's only one way you getting outta this..." the auditor calmly replied.
"Yes! Anything!"
"Imma need a 70% discount on all your merchandise..." he said.
"Of course, of course - use coupon code BFFONLY at checkout " the power broker said. His website was his pride and joy, it's how he met the "mad doctor" or the "Fear sniper", lifelong friends and business partners.
"Really? Why thank you!" the auditor smiled.
"But you *still* getting an F for FOOL" he clapped back.
"NOOOOOOOOO!!!" the broker yelled.
It was in that moment the broker realized, who the real power broker was.
\--------
*I decided to go for a funnier take and I hope you enjoy :)*
*- Marlon Frost* | With a heavy sigh I pulled up to the not obvious evil lair entrance. You'd think hiding it under a waterfall would be a god idea, but when its carved into the back of a mountain with a skull for a face it's not very easy to hide.
My old pickup whined as it drove through what seemed to be a road of bone down into some pit. Metal scaffolds were everywhere, people being tortured in numerous ways and all sorts of things I was numb to at this point.
With a heavy sigh I pulled into the gaping skull of *something* setting off an alarm. henchman, monsters and mutants swarmed my car, ready to destroy it. I simply walked out and used the power of an OSHA inspection badge. They cowered in fear as I blankly said, "Take me to Mr. Evil, now.". A being that could probably snap we like a twig personally escorted me up a grand set of stairs in this cavern, trying to be polite, or the best you can be with 3 mouths.
I enter the office of Mr. Evil, who is known to have committed several war crimes, but I'm OSHA not the police. With lavish velvet, a grand window f his operation and other things he fit the motive of super villain With the swoosh of a black cape he pronounces with a deep voice like a knock of Darth Vader, "Who dares enter my office!" Again a flash of the badge was all I needed before his demeanor changed.
Angrily he shouted, "Johnathan, you told me he was coming Wednesday, today's Monday!" before I could react the 3 mouthed thing next to me turned to ash. A big smile spread n his face, "So, inspector here for the routines check up, right?"
i could see beads of sweat rolling down his face. "Actually I got a call from a worker about an A-12 violation, we talked about this before." I gesture out the window to a pit of magma with a woman being lowered slowly into it. "This is the 3rd warning to put rails by that pit. You at least secured the spiked chain around her, but the rails man, come on you're better than this!"
He collapsed on his knees, pleading in his eyes "Please, nowhere else will suit my needs. I can't get another A-12, that'll bankrupt me!Please, anything but that!"
I just cold stare him. "You have warned several times Mr. Evil, with so many violations that it is almost worse than what you have done in recent years is almost as worse. You have one week to pay the fine or receive a court summons." I ignored his pleading and walked down the staircase, disgust filling me as I walked out.
I pull out a small megaphone yelling to his minions, my voice echoing in the cavern, "Until further notice all workers on site must leave at once. Repeat, this operation is shut down until further notice."
With that I sigh, check another name off my list and drive on out to a Mr. Iceman in my future. | 2020-05-12T13:11:24 | 2020-05-12T13:11:15 | 171 | 110 |
[WP] it's a world of superpowers, and yours is most definitely a level 5+, the average superhero is a level 3, you have no interest in superhero or villaining, so you kept your powers hidden to avoid recruiters and managers until you slip up in front of multiple live streams. | "Going live in 3, 2, 1." The lights flicker before the camera trains in onto Heist, a very public and popular supervillain who was recently caught. He, like Al Capone was, is well liked and a notorious bad boy. That is, if bad boys could turn invisble and had a laundry list of crimes. Heist was in handcuffs but still resided on the plush velvet chair used for interviewing supers.
"Hello and welcome to the Super Show." I cringe at the name but keep the camera directed at the pair in the center. "I'm your host, Sara McCartney here today with local villain, Heist. Tell us about you, Heist." The villain flashes a blindingly charming grin at the camera before beginning.
"Hello, everyone. As you know, I'm Heist. Well, not really, but you know me as Heist." He says in a deep, playboyish voice. "I'm that villain who can both turn invisible *and* manipulate metals. Best known for the Heist of Mont Martain Bank which earned me my name." I sigh at the cocky personality of the villain. That plus his looks are gonna make this episode particularly popular amongst those who find males attractive. Not that I'm complaining, though, that's my paycheck right there. "In this interview, I'll be answering your questions for me and tell a few secrets of my own." He says, winking at the camera.
I can practically hear the swooning.
"Well then, let's start with some questions. I, personally, would like to know your details on your latest heist. That of the Rosedale Museum of Gemwork and Jewelery." She says, also looking at the camera while speaking as if asking for the agreement of the audience.
"Well it's quite simple really, sneaking in isn't hard when no one can see you." He smirks. Sara lets out an overexaggerated laugh.
"I can imagine." She chuckles, her blonde curls falling in front of her face.
"The metal manipulation comes in handy too, especially when you're stealing jewlery. It's a bit like a boomerang, honestly, it comes back to you without you even touching it." He brushes a stray hair from his face with his cuffed hands.
"Well, I'm sure many of our viewers would agree. Now here's another query coming from Marcus Lee of North Peak." She pulls out a blue notecard with the bold yellow Super Show logo on it. "'What level super are you?'." She asks.
"Well, Marcus, last time I got tested on my superlevel was yesterday with the cops." Sara laughs, pushing a strand of hair from her face. "Sadly, we haven't recieved the results yet but last time I escaped I came out with a 5.8."
"Of course. I'm assuming you're planning of escaping this, too?" Sara jokes. The hard look on Heists face remains.
"Well of course, them police just don't learn their lesson, do they?" his southern accent seeps through before he stares out the full room sized windows. "NOW RYAN, NOW!" He yells out the window. At his word, several armed men lead by a frail looking man who I know compensates for that with power break through the windows while Heist manipulates the metal cuffs off his hands. Sara screams in shock. I barely get time to react, I just do. As Heist and the others prepare to escape through the window I stop time. Well not really time, it's more of movement. Electronic devices still function, just not gravity or the movement of any living thing. Heist and the others freeze before they can jump out and I stroll forward knowing no one's going anywhere, throwing several punches to the men which I know will have them blanking out the moment I resume time.
I snap my fingers and time is back to normal. Several people in the room seem dazed but all of which saw what I had done. Only then do I turn back to the camera to realize it's still recording and they weren't the only people who saw what'd happened in the room. I freeze looking in the filming end of the pitch black lens for the first time.
"...shit." | What is a hero? Well to be honest at this point it's nothing but a cool flashy career for those born lucky. I decided early on that I wanted no part in it. Unfortunately for me my secret was about to be revealed.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Alex and I have a gift if you want to call it that. I can move really fast. When I say really fast I mean fast enough to travel all the way around the earth in less than the amount of time it takes the average person to blink. Have I ever actually tried It? Yeah once just to see if I could. It was exhausting as hell and I haven't tried doing it again. There was this one time that… sorry I'm getting off topic my mind wanders a lot since I think so much quicker than normal people.
Back to the story. So it was Saturday and I wasnt doing anything in particular. I decided to get something to eat. I didn't want to risk being seen so I decided to just walk to a nearby burger place. I got it to go and started the walk home.
When I was right around the corner my phone buzzed. I checked it and saw that there was a live news report. Apparently a meteor was heading towards New York. Now usually if something like this happened I'd just let some other hero handle it. New York's usually pretty packed with them anyway. But then the news reporter spoke.
"I'm just getting word that all the level 4 and above heroes are on tour in The uk. If any hero us watching this we need help."
There weren't many heros with supper speed and even the few who did have it could only move at about the speed of the average jet. I knew there was no way that any hero that could actually do something would be there in time. So I sighed and decided I should probably do something.
Yeah I know I know I would really rather not have my powers revealed and have a bunch of anyone "Hero teams" trying to recruit me. I didn't want the publicity or the headache but I also didn't want to watch New York get wiped off the map. I let go of my food and rushed off.
I was there almost immediately. Fortunately I had been careful and no one had seen me. I saw the meteor approaching. It was big. I mean really big like nmiles across big. I took a deep breath and ran up a skyscraper. With the force I built up I was able to leap towards the meteor.
I remember a scene from an anime I had seen where the hero shatters a meteor in a single punch. I thought it was probably going to take me a few more hits to destroy it.
I started moving my arms as fast as they could go. When I hit the meteor it was immediately vaporized when my fist camee into contact with it. "Oh" I thought to myself, "I thought that would be way harder."
Then something occured to me. I was probably in view of a ton of cameras right now. "Well shit" I thought.
I spun my arms fast enough to manipulate the air beneath me to cushion my fall. Then I began the run back to the other side of the country. I was tired and wasn't moving as quickly. The reporter was talking again.
"We have footage of what appears to be a new super powered individual fleeing from the scene of the meteors destruction"
you know what the worst part is? They didn't even see me when I destroyed the meteor. The only footage of me they have is me running away.
Unfortunately my face was in frame even if it was only for a frame or two. This was going to be such a pain
This is my first time commenting on this subreddit sorry if it's not great | 2021-07-04T22:47:25 | 2021-07-04T20:49:08 | 76 | 56 |
[WP] You made a deal with the devil and now he wants payment, but in the worst typo in history he's come to collect "your sole".
If you can think of any other words that work go ahead. | My sole? I stopped and stared, agape,
At Satan's scrawls upon the scroll.
How blessed I was to have escaped
A far more dire toll.
My Nikes lay, from yesterday,
When I had worn and laced them last.
An oh-so-meagre price to pay!
I grabbed my knifeblade fast.
I pierced the shoe, the rubber flew
And landed at my naked feet.
A sweeping carve, my blade, it starved
For tender runner meat.
And with a pop, the sole came off
In one large muddy, flappy piece.
And then I yelled, "O King of Hell,
Come up, your eyes to feast!"
The power flickered. Ghostly snickers
Flew, demonic moans and whispers
Filled the air. I didn't dare
To think about the coming bicker.
Air grew chilled, upon my sill
My tabby screeched, a noise quite shrill
As through black clouds, with voice so loud,
*He* rose, my soul to kill.
"Your life, my friend, has met it's end,"
He cackled in his voice of doom.
His wretched laugh broke every glass
Within my humble room.
But still I stood. Oh, just how would
He take the news of his mistake.
Was it a ruse? I took the shoe,
Although my hands did shake.
I took the scroll, also the sole,
And I began my explanation.
As I debunked, His grin, it shrunk,
His face one of consideration.
"Well..." He said, he shrugged. His head
Hung low in grim and timid shame.
"I guess you've won. My work is done.
Your soul's still in your name."
And as he left, I heard his "Heck!
I must see to that autocorrect."
Then with a *poof* the Hellish goof
Returned from whence he came.
I, with a grin, turned back within
And nestled down to bed.
The moral of this story is
Be careful where you tread.
| "Uh, Lucifer?" I squinted at the blazing gothic text in the parchment. How I wish they would have just switched to a more legible typeface; Comic Sans would fit right in, and is at least more readable than this crap.
The demonic form of the Devil was imposing, feral features knitted into his gaunt musculature. Still, the vague inquiry seemed to pique his interest as he opened his maw, uttering a gutteral confirmation that he was listening. "Yes?"
"You may have made a typo in the contract. It says that, in exchange for the services provided, I am to relinquish my..." I was quickly interrupted.
"There is no error. This contract is handwritten by my best scribes and have been triple-checked by me. Simply sign the contract and I will ensure that every word in it is done."
I smiled as I read over the contract once more, making sure to take note of all the details. "Very well." I signed the contract with a flourish, the flaming quill setting fire to the ink as I wrote. The very moment I finished, the parchment burned away, the contract accepted and bound.
The Devil stood up and gestured for me to follow him. "If you would step this way, we can start the ritual right away."
I followed him through another set of doors to a large circular room with a stone pedestal on a small platform in the center. I was directed to take my shoes and socks off and lie on the pedestal while Lucifer locked the doors.
I glanced up at the Devil, grinning. "Are you aware that the contract says..." I was quickly interrupted again.
"Sole, S-O-L-E, yes." He said with a smile, making his way towards me, eyeing my bare feet hungrily.
So the Devil has a foot fetish. Go figure. | 2017-10-16T07:33:44 | 2017-10-16T07:30:31 | 143 | 77 |
[WP]"Oh great far-speaking tower, I have performed the rituals as set forth in the sacred manual. Let me speak to the sky spirit so I may learn of it's wisdom!" "Uh.. Copy that. Moon City Delta responding... We thought everyone was dead down there." | Howard widened his eyes at the blinking control panel. He assumed this was prank at first. It said the transmission came from Earth. That should've been impossible.
The planet had been a smoggy, irradiated mess for over a century. Nobody lived down there anymore. At least, that was what Howard believed until now. The guy on the other side of the transmission clearly proved that wrong. Most citizens thought that Moon City Delta was humanity's last bastion. Only a small minority of them considered that Earth might still be habitable in the future. They were usually ridiculed as idealist that wanted to return to an idyllic paradise.
Howard hesitated to answer the transmission. For all intents and purposes, this would be their first contact with a foreign human culture. Who knows what silly things they could believe right now. The fact that the voice kept referring to a 'sky spirit' only reinforced that worry. They were still humans, though. It would be condescending to immediately look down on them when they were capable reestablishing communications with Moon Base Delta. They couldn't be complete idiots... right? Howard decided to alert his superior. It was the prudent thing to do. News of this would spread through the base in a matter of hours. Their way of life might be affected going forward.
And then the voice started saying something about lighting on fire the living sacrifice.
Howard froze.
They were going to kill someone. A misguided attempt at constructing a rudimentary rocket. They thought that throwing people into a metallic tube and burning them alive while inside was the way to send them to the 'delta realm'. Howard didn't even know how to begin explaining the many ways they were wrong. He didn't have time to get someone else. If he didn't answer the transmission, that person's death would be his responsibility.
"Uh.. Copy that. Moon City Delta responding... We thought everyone was dead down there."
"The blessed Moon City in the far reaches of Delta has answered our prayers!"
Loud cheering swelled in the background.
"Light the sacred flames!"
More cheering.
"Wait!" shouted Howard.
The voices fell quiet. Their worried whispers made it clear that they were scared of the 'sky spirit'. The leader then said:
"Have we angered you, sky spirit?"
"P-please don't sacrifice anyone. It's not necessary."
"I warned you!" said a woman. "We'll be punished for our hubris! Treading upon the land of Delta would only anger the gods! We don't belong there!"
People started agreeing with her. Angry shouting slowly increased until the entire room was arguing. They considered murdering the man for leading them astray. Howard panicked. He wanted to prevent a tragedy, but speaking only seemed to make things worse. These people were bloodthirsty. Life must be extremely harsh to survive in that environment. They wanted someone, anyone, to restore everything back to before the apocalypse destroyed everything.
Howard sighed. This would be a pain in the ass. Unfortunately, he also knew that if humanity had any hope of thriving again, they had to do their best to reclaim their lost world. Most citizens in the moon base had given up on that dream. They might even want to stay as far away from Earth as possible after learning about these people. Howard couldn't ignore them, though. He leaned close to the microphone and said:
"Hear me people of Earth, for I bring good news. There will be no sacrifices today. Do that and you will never hear from me again."
The people gasped.
"We're sorry!" shouted their leader. "Please don't abandon us again!"
"Do not apologize for threading upon the divine. That boldness is what propels humanity towards impossible heights. Listen and follow my instructions well. I shall teach you how to restore your world to the lush green fields it once had, and establish a bridge between our worlds again."
The voices went wild. They started celebrating a new dawn for their society. Howard sunk back into his chair. The consequences of his actions had just dawned on him. They worshiped him as a savior. The rest of the moon base couldn't find out about this. At least, not for a while. Howard didn't really know how his superiors would react to him being a god now. Then again, if this culminated with the restoration of Earth, he would live on in myths for eternity.
-----
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | "What?" Faldwell tilted his head at the electronic device. "Am I speaking to the Sky Spirit?"
"Sky spirit? What the hell is going on down there, we haven't heard from Earth in weeks." Faldwell sighed and turned to face his band of fur-wearing, face painted, dirty followers.
"Hold on, guys. I think the quest is bugged, he chuckled nervously. "You know how new servers are," he gestured at the air to produce his slate. Everyone else saw it as a smokey glass pane, though he clearly saw text with access to all his menus on it. He navigated to the support menu and requested a mod. Moments later a black hole opened next to him and a young man with a bush of dark brown curls on his head walked out.
"Mod Aurelio," he pointed at his nametag. "What's the problem?" he asked as he approached Faldwell.
"Hello? Earth? This is Moon City Delta, are you there?" Faldwell gestured at the primitive tech that illustrated their trouble. "We've got hundreds of families up here worried about you all."
"Quest is bugged," he added clarification.
"Oh. Hold on this needs to be escalated," Aurelio brought up his own slate.
"Should I talk to them?" Faldwell asked. Aurelio shook his head as he typed on the glass. Seconds after he stopped typing another black hole opened. A short, plump, pale woman in a black suit walked out.
"Hey Melody, we've got a problem. Moon full of Zeros," he pointed at the radio in time to hear them try again.
"This is Moon City Delta, do you read us Earth?" Melody glanced at the radio, then at the small crowd gathered around them, then at Faldwell. He was dressed in furs and grime like them, though he also wore an elaborate headdress made from a lion's skull and a mane made of colorful feathers.
"Guild leader?" she asked. Faldwell nodded.
"The Sky Spirit's blessing is the last thing we needed to earn our guild hall," he said.
"Sharp Development apologizes for the inconvenience. Please accept this server...," she gave Faldwell a card-sized piece of glass, then pointed at a fresh portal that opened next to him. "... for bringing this bug to our attention, and as an apology for troubling your gameplay experience." His eyes went wide.
"A *server!?* A WHOLE server just for us?" Melody nodded.
"If you need any help setting it up, you'll be able to contact Aurelio directly," she smiled.
"Thanks! C'mon guys!" Faldwell immediately rushed through the portal followed by his role-playing cult.
"Uh... Earth," the radio spoke again once the guild left. "The great Sky Spirit commands you to speak to us. Where are you?"
"Warn them about the cataclysm," Melody said as she looked up into the sky for the moon. The palms of her hands started glowing with bright blue light.
"On it," Aurelio replied; his fingers danced on the glass slate.
\[Server Notice: Cataclysmic Event! The moon is shattered. Server template is updated from Apocalyptic to Catastrophic. Environmental safety programs have been disabled. Permadeath is enabled. Please relocate to a standard server if you wish to remain safe. Sharp Development takes no responsibility for players that remain on this server.\]
"Done," Aurelio said. Melody nodded and pointed her glowing hands at the moon. Streaks of bright blue plasma launched out of her hands at it.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year three, story #116. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order. | 2020-04-25T09:05:59 | 2020-04-25T08:25:28 | 658 | 63 |
[WP] Tell a story backwards, but still make it cohesive. | I had nothing.
Every day I would count my pennies and food stamps, but they never multiplied. Every night, I cried myself to sleep.
One by one, my friends abandoned me.
I lost the love of my life. The emptiness - that gaping hole that hollowed my soul - was unbearable.
Then, I played with chance. I gambled all that I had. Everything. And my life has never been the same.
I found and fell in love with the most beautiful woman in the world. She completed me in every possible way.
I came to know the names of everyone, and they came to know mine. I built a name for myself, one I could proudly wear.
Every day I would count my blessings, and every night I would say my prayers.
I had everything. | He fell to the floor.
She stabbed and stabbed at him.
She stood behind him.
She noticed the large knife on the counter top.
She stumbled to the kitchen.
She felt sick.
She put a hand to her mouth.
Her first reaction was disbelief.
He said, "I don't love you."
| 2014-09-07T00:06:37 | 2014-09-06T22:31:28 | 83 | 34 |
[WP] For the last 100,000 years, you have watched humans evolve, learn, mature. After slowly growing to love the poor creatures, today you must say goodbye. You are Death, and today humanity attains immortality. | I have watched them grow.
From their very first steps on the plains of Africa, to the conquering to the vast oceans, to their mastery of the stars themselves, I have watched them.
I have seen their triumphs; great walls and buildings of stone, steel and glass. Art that could make men weep at its beauty, unending libraries of knowledge, literature, poetry. A global network that connected humanity as a whole. I have watched them make and do these things
I have seen their follies: Hatred that burns brightly in the hearts of men, unbridled greed that propelled some to the peak of luxury, but a great multitude more into the gutter of poverty. I have seen it all, from a bully stealing lunch money on a playground to wars that spanned the entire world. I have seen them do these things.
I have been with them through all of these things and more, but through all the changes humanity has seen and done, I have been constant.
There is a saying, "everyone dies alone". This is simply not true. I have been there for every single human's death, ferrying them along to the afterlife. After 100,000 years, It never gets easier. Humans have always been such vibrant creatures, racing to fit as much living as possible in such a short time. No matter how ready for death they feel they might be when I come, there's always dreams unfulfilled, the little lingering regrets that eat away at their last moments. They try to put on a strong front and accept their fate, but I can always tell it's at the back of their minds. And it breaks my heart.
So, it's time for me to step out of the picture. It's time for them to finally reach their full potential. No more wasted dreams, no more bucket lists unfulfilled, only opportunities. I love humans, as much today as their first, and I'll miss seeing them grow, but somehow I know they'll be alright without me.
I will watch them grow no longer. | The small elderly was surrounded by a half dozen of his peers.
"Today ladies and gentlemen we are witnessing history"
He paused and surveyed the room.
"Humanity has united itself to end war, famine, and colonize the stars. After countless hours of research we have done it, we have found a cure to the biological aging process. Within a year there will no longer be death among us."
The old man presented his findings and after a long celebration packed his belongings to go home.
When he arrived he was greeted by thin sickly figure cloaked in darkness.
"Professor it appears that I am no longer needed amongst your people. It's my time to leave."
The old man smiled when he realized who he was talking to and replied "Well good sir, I cannot say that it sorrows me to have defeated you."
"You have not defeated me, or at least that's not how u view it. I shall move on to another creature, the next sentience, as have been doing for all time. I look forward to these days I am almost as joyous as one of your people."
"Well I'm just glad you shall never take another person, like you took my wife. But" He added "I am said that I will spend eternity; old and weak. Before you go, will you do me a favor? Will you take me with you?"
Death reached out his hand and the old man took it. Unsure of what his fate afterward would be.
| 2015-07-10T10:25:01 | 2015-07-10T09:10:26 | 146 | 25 |
[WP] You dig up a time capsule you buried years ago. Instead of memorabilia, you find a modern phone. It rings. | I pull the box from the grass, dust the dirt from the top, unlock the padlock, pull the lid open and have a heart
attack.
Well, not really, but I was pretty startled when I saw the iPhone between the old shirts and records and newspapers from the forties.
"What the hell?"
My great-grandfather buried this box seventy-five years ago in my back yard – and I'm pretty sure he didn’t
mention anything about an iPhone.
I turn the phone on. Immediately a message pops up – "new voice recording."
I click the little envelope and push the phone against my ear.
The voice comes clear and familiar. "Dean, it's Erica. What I'm about to say is going to make zero sense, but you
have to trust me. Get up from where you are and go to the corner of Lexington and Berry Road, house 325. You
know, Mrs. Ania's house, my piano teacher. Get in there, ask to go to the bathroom, or whatever. Just get in there.
Then find the last door to the right after the kitchen, walk in. It's a bedroom. There's another door inside that
bedroom – it looks like it leads to a bathroom, but it doesn't. It leads to… wherever the fuck I am now, which I
have no idea where it is. Just… go there, send someone… anything. Please. I know I sound crazy, but… fuck, I'm not even sure if this is gonna work. I gotta go, they're gonna start yelling about how Pearl Harbor has just been attacked soon. Please, if you find this, hurry Dean."
The message ends, and I almost laugh, but… Erica's not really the kind of girl who'd pull a prank like this – specially something involving my family, and my great-grandfather's memory box. It doesn't sound like her.
Plus it's Sunday, and I have nothing better to do. I try calling her, but it goes straight to voice mail.
So what the hell? I decide to check with Mrs. Ania.
 
"Hey, Mrs. Ania, can I use your bathroom?" I say, because well, what else can you say to an old lady when you
knock on her door? "I know my house is nearby, but I have to go really bad."
"No problem. Come in, come in. Would you like some tea? I could make –"
"Just the bathroom will be fine, Ania," I smile, going past her.
"How's Erica? You two have a wedding date set already?"
"God, no. Thanks, Mrs. Ania."
I cross the living room, go past the kitchen and head to the back of the hallway. I open the last door and walk in.
It's a bedroom, all right.
I head for the door on the opposite end, all the way asking myself what am I doing and regretting this already.
*Freaking Erica… but how would she even know about the memory box? And even if she did, the lock wasn't
broken… and Erica would never do something like that, it's totally inappro –*
I shut up, because the second I step in and turn my hand instinctively to find a light switch, not only do my fingers
not find one – they don't find a wall at all. My feet goes right past where the floor would be too, sinking into nothing. Before I know it, I'm free falling through darkness, the rectangular shape of the door opening distancing itself upwards and upwards and upwards until it's no more than a dot of light up above. Then the darkness is complete.
| I looked down at the phone and then to the rest of the items in the time capsule. There were toys, a letter asking if I was still thinking about Bobby, and something that MIGHT have been a sandwich fifteen years ago. The phone ringing was weird, but the sandwich thing was weirder.
I grabbed the phone out of the box and looked at the number, it was nothing I recognized. That being said, I wasn't exactly going to send this sort of strange bullshit to voicemail, so I picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Hello?"
"Who is this?"
"I should be asking you the same thing," the man on the other end said. He didn't sound like he was happy.
"You called me!"
"No I didn't," he scoffed into the phone, "I found this phone and it was ringing, I picked it up and you were here."
"So you're saying that I called you?" I asked. I supposed that two people being called wasn't weird compared to the time capsule phone.
"Yes, because you did."
"But I -" I stopped myself, "whatever, the point is, what's up?"
"Nothing much, pretty nice day. I got a ghost phone call, you?" I could feel the sarcasm dripping off of his voice like molasses.
"Samesies."
"Samesies?"
"Yeah," I said, "picked up the phone and here you were."
"That's not how phones work."
I sat myself down against the trunk of the tree that I'd buried the time capsule under. "I know right?"
"So you're-"
"Hillary," I said as I looked at the sandwich. It might have been a pile of Oreos.
"David," he responded, "nice to meet you I guess."
"Yeah, so where did you find the phone?"
"Time capsule," he said, "buried it under a tree-"
"Fifteen years ago?" I asked.
"This is weird."
"Yeah it is."
"Yeah it is," he said back to me. I pulled the phone away from my ear for a moment. There wasn't anything strange about it. Aside from the fact that it existed at least.
"So."
"So."
"What do we do now?" I asked.
"Hang up?"
"No! There has to be something more to this, we just found random phones in our back yards and you're telling me that you just want to move on?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
"All right," I hissed, "fine, I'll hang up." I pulled the phone away from my ear and swiped across the screen as aggressively as I could. As soon as the call hung up the world flashed in front of my eyes.
I was blind for a good thirty seconds, but I shook the white away and looked around me. Most things were the same, the only difference I could make out was that there were maple leaves around me now instead of pine needles.
The phone stayed quiet and I looked from it to the leaves and then back to it. It wasn't like there was anything else for it to do. I picked myself up off of the ground and shook my head. Blonde hair got into my mouth and I swore.
"Who is that?" asked a small child from the inside of the house. | 2016-01-21T06:28:05 | 2016-01-21T05:32:45 | 55 | 13 |
[FF] Can you try and make me ( and the other readers) cry in less than 150 words? | My tail doesn't move like it used to.
I remember fields of green, and a vastness of olfactory delights. I remember nights next to the radiator, warmth baking into me as the wind howls outside. I remember the day Master brought his puppy home.
I watched the puppy grow, and saw boundless energy relected back.
I remember the Master going away.
But my tail doesn't move like it used to, and now the puppy carries me onto a metal table. He kisses my head as the strange other man stings me. I do not have the energy to bark a warning to the puppy, but he seems to be safe. I hear the puppy whimper, I hope he is okay. I am so tired now, and as I lick his hand my tail gives one last thump.
My tail doesn't move like it used to. | You were confined to a bed,
While doctors said there's no antidotes.
Recounting old anecdotes--
Without a hair on your head,
And you still made cancer jokes.
You told me you'd rather be dead,
Yet I held on to a thread of hope.
Mom, I miss you.
Why'd you have to go?
| 2015-03-27T12:17:02 | 2015-03-27T09:44:30 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] Our hero fights for good, but he's very lazy about it. After all, he knows that as the protagonist, his plans will always work out in the end. | **Warning: Strong Language**
***
"Fuck the Gods!" Precizioo yelled as the car cruised down the road.
"There is only one God," Laterman replied.
"Impossible. It can't be. One god cannot dish out so much punishment. No god can create such a dastardly plan to ruin my life, and if he can then he is only omniscient, but not omnibenevolent. It must me be many, many little gods who've formed a cabal to ruin my life."
He leaned closer to the cage separating him and Laterman. "Do you know why they frustrate me fool?"
Later man rolled his eyes, his chin resting on his right palm as the autodriver took over. "Why do they frustrate you?"
Precizioo said it as a whisper, eyes wide, "because, I am better than them. Yes I said it. I am like Arachne who challenged Athena to a weaving contest, and when she won the god got so jealous she turned her into a spider to weave webs for all eternity with her children."
"So you have challenged the gods then?" Laterman asked.
"No, Precizioo replied but it is because they have conspired to kick the ladder of greatness before I scale it. They torment me by having my nemesis get the best of me out of sheer dumb luck. You know it as well as I do you dumb fuck there is no logical explanation as to why you have foiled some of my best plans. Admit it you no-good...."
Later-man looked away as the insults rained on him. The truth was he had only become a superhero to dodge the compulsory one-year military service his country had. The plan only succeeded because he took so long returning the forms that the officer was worn out and willing to listen to any flimsy reason anyone gave for dodging. They had more than enough soldiers. With such luck he named himself Laterman, since arriving late tended to work in his best interest.
"Listen, I need to make a quick stop." He told Precizioo. The car stopped outside a doughnut shop.
As Laterman stuffed his face, Precizioo took the opportunity to undo his cuffs. As they fell to the car-floor, he saw Laterman spill some coffee as he dunked his doughnut a bit-too deep. He shook his head in disbelief. How such a clumsy superhero functioned let alone defeated him was beyond his understanding.
"Laterman walked back to the car."
"What? No. I just got here." Laterman responded to the voice in his head.
He heard the voice clear its throat. "Laterman walked back to his car." The voice said again. This time he detected some assertiveness in its tone.
"Come on, just ten more minutes. I mean it's not like he's in a hurry to go to jail."
"He is the most wanted criminal on this planet. That is why Laterman only took 5 minutes, not the regular 15 when he went to the doughnut shop."
"Come on relax. What could possibly go wrong." He had barely thought the words when he heard his car start.
"Hey what the?" he stood up, walking out of the shop with his doughnut and coffee in hand. He waddled awkwardly trying to avoid a second spill of his coffee.
"This is why Laterman should have taken his break after taking Precizioo to jail," the voice said.
"Relax, these things have a way of sorting themselves out." he calmly countered.
"I'll see you later you stupid buffoon!" Precizioo said as he revved the engine. He reversed sharply. Then stepped on the gas making the wheels spin in place. He stuck his middle finger out at Laterman as he released the clutch.
The car lurched forward. For a moment it looked like he was trying to break the sound barrier, but it was only momentary. The car chocked and sputtered, and sparks shot out from its exhaust. It came to a slow stop as smoke billowed from its engine.
Laterman ran up to it.
"What did you think you were doing?"
"No, No, it can't be." Precizioo's voice wavered. His eyes watered in frustration as they never had in his most life-threatening fight.
"I think you blew my gasket or something" said Laterman.
"How! It's a cop car it should be able to handle much more." Precizioo yelled back at him.
"I guess it's just overdue for a service tune-up. I've meant to take it for some time now, but I guess I just got busy. I should have taken it on..." he looked at the tag. "Wow! eight months ago, but I guess it all worked out in the end."
Precizioo was banging his head on the steering wheel.
***
/r/pagefighter
| The Dark One's Keep loomed ahead and the white mist was a sea as he waded through its thick blanket. The dead before him was fresh and their lives still faded from their eyes. His sword was stained though he had hardly used it.
*It is my right,* he thought. *This was their destiny.*
He had hardly cared for the dead, but tonight was different. Perhaps it was the Dark One's influence. Perhaps it was the severity of it all, but tonight he cared.
*It is because of her.*
The mists parted. The ground up was stony and grey. The Keep was a shadow, a hole in the night and its gates were open.
He thought about changing his plans. The yard had the feel of often turned soil. The gates creaked in the winds. Below, the forest was shrouded in that cotton white.
*Perhaps I should sneak in.*
But he was the hero. There would be a confrontation and he would be victorious. Why bother with formulating any other plan?
He looked behind again at the forest below. The stillness of it all and the cold made him uneasy. He rarely felt uneasy. Inside, a yellow light poured from the opened door. The shadows flickered, like someone was turning them on and off, and there were sounds of sharp things sliding against concrete.
*This way is fastest. She is in danger.*
After a final look behind, he went in. The door closed and it was warm and no longer quiet. His odd feeling of unease spread throughout his body. Usually he did not care about such things, but this time was different.
*It is because the Dark One is here.*
But he knew that was wrong. It was because of her. The captured maid had stolen his heart. She had taken his invulnerability before she was taken away herself. He loved her and he was going to rescue her.
The passages were long and narrow. The scent of decay oozed through the cracks and there were intermittent screams.
What henchmen there were, were hidden from him. The Hero came to no resistance and soon he was heading down to the sanctuary. The steps were slippery with ice water that dripped overhead. Weak torches lined the wall. Here, the air was thick and he found his breath ragged and forced.
*Soon she will be mines.*
The opening was well it with red fires that burned all over. The man that knelt over the stone tablet was old and wore tattered robes. He looked up at him with tired eyes and he smiled a toothless grin.
"Finally," he said.
On the tablet she struggled.
"Release her!" the Hero commanded.
The old man looked at him and staggered up.
"How bold of you," he said. "You order an old man as if he were a maid."
She screamed louder as he ran his hand down her stomach.
"You order me as if I were some simple scoundrel."
"Release her or I shall kill you!"
It was the first time in a long time that he had shouted. The old man made a serious face. He put his hands at his sides and smacked his lips.
"Look at you," he said. "Such a cocky young man. I bet that has worked before, hasn't it?"
The Hero grew impatient and that uneasiness was at its zenith.
"Release her!"
He was not used to things being this hard.
The old man looked sad and lifted his hand.
"Such a hero," he said. "Yet you know not true evil. You know not true struggle and strife. Come. Kill me."
The Hero rushed and his footfalls echoed as his sobs would soon after. The old man made no attempt to defend himself but drove his hand down, its blade sharp and true.
The girl screamed as her life trickled out. The old man fell to the Hero, but he was old and ancient and it would not be the first time he had died. The Hero's blade lay there near the tablet and he was alone and sobbing. His love had died and his world had grown dark and cold as the misty night.
*How can it be?* he thought.
His mind hurt from the sadness.
*I am supposed to be the Hero.*
But there was that feeling of the evil around him. The Dark One was not yet dead.
*I am the Hero!* his mind cried.
But now he was a tragic hero. | 2017-01-17T08:51:03 | 2017-01-17T08:10:56 | 31 | 19 |
[WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work?
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | *Code Orange. Code Orange. We need Doctor Bees in the operating room*
"Over 300 casualties and a few injured. What happened out there?!"
"Doctor, the comb was attacked by a hairy monstrosity. He tore the place apart and it took most of the workers to fend him off"
"Do we have any survivors?"
"Very few, we have drones to cover our losses but it will be hard"
"Who do we have on the table now?"
"Just one so far. He was with the queen an..Oh my gosh. Doctor, Sir Bounce Pennington has major contusions in his lower abdomen. He's bottom half has been ripped apart! He's done for!"
"We need an IV stat!"
"I will not lose another patient. He has diploids at home!"
"He's just a drone sir."
"I don't care what he is! Scalpel now, I can't wait any longer" | We met in the room of a thousand fountains all 140 of us. We looked around for the original sure enough he was here. "Alright gentleman I have gathered you here today to adress the growing unrest across the galaxy at this time. Now I can't do it alone but with all of you I can, but we have to work together. Sound fair?" We all nodded and whispered agreements amongst ourselves. Then on cue we all turned to leave we knew what had to be done. The galaxy could barely stop one Revan how would it do with 140. | 2016-02-22T11:31:29 | 2016-02-22T09:22:45 | 30 | 10 |
[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) | And so it begins. They came in from every direction but I knew that there was no way that they could possibly even have a chance against me. I am invincible and that's just how it goes. They can't stop me because well I realized from a young age that I am impossible and the impossible can achieve the impossible. At least that's what I thought it was at first. Instead I unlocked myself, that's right. All of those new age spiritualities were right but they took it from the wrong perspective. It isn't about meditation or anything. It just about believing, about becoming a child again and using that to your advantage. I became a child again and I believed that anything was possible. When those people tell you that anything is possible if you believe, well they are right except they don't believe. They just tell that to raise your spirits.
​
I believe and that is what allows me to do anything I want. So when the entire world decided to gang up on me and attack me they got the shock of their life. I could do anything to them, I could summon fireballs and incinerate them, I could freeze the entire world. I could even change their minds. I could stop time. When I say anything I mean anything. So what did I do?
​
Did I wipe them out with an atom bomb?
​
Did I fight them one on one?
​
Did I kill their children so as to prove my power?
​
No. None of this. I took an easy path. I just changed their minds. Easy as that. I told them to fuck off with their lives and they did. They took it elsewhere and I became invincible, I became god. And nothing would stop me. What if I am god? | 2018-10-09T08:22:43 | 2018-10-09T02:54:39 | 27 | 15 |
[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. | "Death, my existence has turned into suffering," I said. "My very bones ache, my skin is weathered. My body became nothing but a green leaf shriveling in autumn's time."
Death chuckled like a five year old, hiting his ball joint as he crouched slightly. "Immortality, a game only a few can play Darren," he said. "If you please, I can end your suffering with a single swing of my scythe."
I grabbed him by the clavicle, "Death, I have something to confess."
He cocked his skull, "are you afraid of the pain my scythe will provoke to your soul?"
I shook my head, "no, it's much worse."
He clinked his fingers against his mandible, as if thinking. "Are you afraid of Hell? You know it doesn't exist, right?"
"I'm not afraid of those mundane things Death, I'm not afraid at all," I said, locking my gaze in his hollowness. "I love you Death."
He hesitated, words dying on his trachea. "Y-you lo-love me?" he stammered.
I nodded, "as deeply as the void of your existence."
"Darren, I swear, together we can make eternity bareable," Death said with a grin and hugged me.
I burst into laughter, "did you believe me, you pervert? What is this called, humanphilia?"
Death hesitated once again, "what are you implying Darren? You weren't lying I smelled the scent of your soul, it was pure!"
"Death, it's been 50000 years. I know all your secrets, maybe you should learn what April fools day is," I said and patted his spine. "You are weird old friend but you blessed me. I will be in Bora Bora if you need anything."
"Motherf—"
-------------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall for more not so great stories | "......Tristan, would you please just die already?" Death said to me with obvious annoyance behind me.
"Oh come on, you know I don't want to. Especially when-" I immediately turn around to quickly remove Death's hood.
"H-hey! Do you want to die?!" Death, whose hood has been taken off, has her beautiful face shown in full glory.
Who would have thought that Death was such a beauty? I first saw her face around 2000 after I was cursed with immortality after a strong wind blew her hood. During that time I was just about to beg for my death, then I saw her face for the first time. It was beautiful, but her eyes were lifeless. It was then that I realized that she's been at it longer than I have, and I decided to make the most of my curse, for both myself and herself.
Now fast forward 48000 years later, and here we are. Humanity has advanced so much. Space travel, colonization of other planets. Oh, and we finally found alien life.
But that's humanity as a whole. As for my current problem....
"Why are you so stubborn?! Just die already!"
"I don't want to leave you behind."
"Wha- Just die!" She said as she ran away, leaving her scythe behind.
"Hey! You dropped your scythe!" I picked it up and ran after her.
Oh well, I've got an eternity to make her change her mind about rejecting my proposal. At the very least, her eyes aren't lifeless anymore. | 2017-11-29T12:47:04 | 2017-11-28T16:54:33 | 149 | 11 |
[WP] You’re in a time loop but it’s not permanent. You repeat a day 3 times then time moves onto the next day. Rinse, repeat...Deja Vu was never more applicable. | The most useless feeling is the feeling of having control, only to have it ripped from you at the end of it all.
Years ago, I awoke on the second day of a Sunday, and unknowingly went out to go to my classes. I thought it was a Monday: why wouldn’t I? I had gone to work the previous day, and it was time to put my nose to the grindstone. However, when I arrived at the usual lecture hall, there was nobody there: no professor, no peers... so I checked the calendar on my phone: Sunday.
I started freaking out, thinking I had lost my mind, went home and called off of work. They didn’t need me, not now. Then it happened for the third time, and I *knew* I hadn’t gone insane. That was ages ago, and if it weren’t for this amazing ability, then I would have never graduated from college with a fantastic record, I wouldn’t have begun into the career of my dreams, and so on.
But I also wouldn’t be lying here, for the third time today, for a month. This ability has been my source of torment ever since I became sick with the new strain of the Black Death a month ago real time, but I had experienced it three times *every single day.*
All I want now is to let time pass as fast as possible, but on the day that I died of this plague... only then, did the day loop for the fourth time. | At first ot was embarassing. Day one was a new day, day two I thought everyone was fuckin with me, and day 3 I caught on to it and did some... Questionable things.
I live in jail. I have 4 momths, but those four months will literally take a year. I have died so many times it's actually crazy. On one hand, I can say whatever I want and do whatever I want with no consequences. I get a first and second try before settling on my third for every situation. I guess I live 3 times longer than anyone else too, but not im their time.
Now, obviously, I have had a lot of time to think. I blame this all on the old lady. She'd been on that corner with the sign for a few days. I tried to give her some pizza and she spat at me, so I called her vile and old and stinky. That was the last one day long day I evrr had. | 2020-10-09T06:30:17 | 2020-10-09T02:23:12 | 106 | 75 |
[WP] You are a supervillain named The Keymaster. Instead of creating grand plans to conquer the world, all you do is run around and free other captured supervillains from prison, after the superheroes defeat them.
Edit: Thanks for the frontpage! | This world is one of extremes. Good and evil not only exist, but are personified by fools in spandex. These forces are constantly battling, and sometimes one side is able to capture a member from the other. If a hero is captured, she will almost always be saved by other do-gooders. In some rare cases, evil has the presence of mind to get their shit together and is able to execute a hero.
Evil has it rough, though. If they're captured, they're generally left to rot in some heavily-guarded facility. Often times these prisons are specifically designed to counter a certain supervillain's powers. A villain's friends and supporters, evil as they are, tend to forget almost immediately about a captured ally. It's not worth the risk. It doesn't directly support their world-dominating cause.
If these jails could remain at peak security, the good guys would run out of people to fight. Life would become mundane. Luckily for both sides, nothing holds forever in this world.
There are many names for the unknown force that allows criminals to escape their perfectly-suited cells. Additional powers, dark lords, guard stupidity, even blind luck have been blamed for these escapes. But no-one knows the true cause, not even the forces of evil.
I can break any defense, down any alarm, and create a key for any lock. I am the force that causes the delay in a shift change, drops a keyring in front of a villain's cell, makes circuits malfunction, starts riots. I am unseen, unheard. I am a whisper in the warden's ear, a hot breath on a guard's neck, a glitch in a security system. I keep the world in balance. I have but one name: The Keymaster.
*****
Edit: Fixed some grammar | This world is small, fighting is futile, goals are pointless, we are meant to progress through evolution, till our planet's resources deplete, and we die. Some desire chaos, to become the king, the owner of this small, innocent planet. Some desire protection, to be the defenders of this small, innocent planet.
Why, what's the point of feeling pain? What's the point of fighting, to be part of the two way street, you don't need to go anywhere.
They call me, The Keymaster. Strange one to be called, let me explain. Fighting is boring, fighting doesn't make you feel good, you know what I mean? What's the point, the heroes will try to win, the villains will try to win, it's an endless cycle, it doesn't matter if you're the strongest villain in the world, there'll probably be a hero to match you. There's always some damn, bullshit balance.
When the villains lose, I enter, when they are locked behind bars, I free them, that's why I'm The Keymaster. I avoid confrontation, I avoid arguing, I free them, and disappear. That's all there is to it.
And you may wonder, why the villain side?
It's because it's fun to free the villains.
| 2017-03-11T18:21:49 | 2017-03-11T18:05:50 | 691 | 16 |
[WP] "The meeting of God's shall now proceed" You sit on the most comfortable chair you ever sat on and the words from the start creep back into your head. "We always have one Mortal here just enjoy the food and please don't stare, those guys hate it." | "I'm sorry," inquired Hermes. "Why exactly did we invite Greg here again?"
"It's a new feedback system we're trying out," answered Athena, slightly annoyed. "You should know, Hermes. You handed out the meeting briefs."
"Right, right. Of course. He's here to give us feedback."
"Give *us* feedback?" bellowed Zeus, as the others reached to cover their ears. A couple hundred eons in and he still hadn't quite grasped the concept of speaking softer. "Am I hearing this right? This tiny man, whom we gave life to is now here to tell us if we did a good enough job at it?"
"That's right. The tensions between the humans have been rising, and I suspect we've played a part in it."
"Nonsense, the humans are happy." chimed in Apollo.
"Is that so? Pray tell, what've they been singing about recently?"
"Ah, you know, the usual — war, the plague, the world burning."
"Right, and do they sound particularly happy in these songs of theirs'?"
"Well, no. But that's just how they are, you know. They like moping around and crying. Why else would they've made *Marley & Me*?"
"Yeah, we don't need Greg telling us what to do," affirmed Ares. "We've been handling this ourselves for centuries. As the tiny ones themselves say, *why fix what's not broken*. I'll slot in another war for them next year."
"No, no, no," Athena slammed her fist on the podium, sending echoes throughout the chamber. "They don't like being sad. Or moping around. But they don't get any other option because we keep *blessing* them with wars and plagues and fires. Greg's here to tell us what his people really want, and *we're* here to listen."
"Ah, let's just get this over with," sighed Poseidon. "What do you want tiny man?"
"Uh, well...hi *guys*," Greg gulped.
"Huh? Is he speaking?"
"Can anyone hear him?"
"Did he say something"
"Maybe we should give them bigger lungs."
"Uh, hi guys," Greg cleared his throat. He was still trying to figure out if this was a dream or not, and naturally, that made him quite nervous. Well, most things made him nervous. This one, just more so.
On one hand, he had no clue how he had got here, which meant that it was pretty likely he was dreaming. On the other hand, the gods all seemed dressed for a gala, while he was in his Superman pyjamas. If this *was* happening in his own head, surely he'd have bothered to at least dress up right.
"So, I'm Greg."
"Yes, we know."
"Fuck me, why's he introducing himself?"
"Can you get to the point?"
"Where'd you get him from?"
Greg slouched down into his seat as the deities hurled obscenities his way. This was starting to feel a lot less like a dream now.
"Silence," shouted Athena. "Tell us, Greg. What troubles you?"
This was really putting him on the spot. Maybe if they'd given him some time to prepare, he could've come up with something useful. But as of now, he wasn't even sure what was going on. Was this a genie-granting-wishes type of situation? Could he just ask for anything and the Gods would make it happen?
"Me? Uh, what trouble *me*? Well, uh, I don't know. Maybe, I guess, sometimes I feel like my showers just goes between super hot and super cold, you know. It's like why even build a temperature knob? Why not just make it a switch? You get what I —" He abruptly stopped midway through his sentence, as his brain caught up with everything he'd just said.
Athena stared in disbelief.
"Tell me it's not true" Zeus pleaded her. "Did we make *that*?" he asked, waving his finger at Greg.
"It can't be," agreed Poseidon. "No, not all. All the hard work we put in and this is what's come of it?" He too, pointed at Greg, unable to even look at him out of disbelief.
"We really must have gone wrong somewhere," Ares came around. | "Wélcömeth Óðinn, Thor. Cöme here and join us töo, Ζεύς, Hera, Poseidon, and Hades. Is Aphrodite coming?" asked the bodiless head of Mímir, that swung on a bronze plate hung by chains over the large golden table that was filled with grapes, wine, bread and meat.
"Aphrodite isn't coming Mímir," Jesus said. "She pulled an all-nighter again and was unable to do so. I let her sleep, but I managed myself."
"Well isn't that just typical..." Mímir said as they waited for the other gods to gather. الله walked in and was greeted as Allah, and after one chair after the other was filled with gods the room became saturated.
"Everybody is here, please fill your guts with this food and if your drink is empty just ask Jesus to put some water in your cup. Let's kick this meeting off."
At the far end of the table, Indo-Aryan goddess Indra stood up and raised her voice: **"HOLD, we're not all here, Mímir"**
"ööh, Indrä," Mímir responded surprised. "Whø dö you think is missing?"
"The mortal. I heard that this year it would be a mortal king, I do not see him. Are we breaking traditions again?" Indra asked as he threw an empty grape-vine across the table.
"Öoh Indra..." Mímir mumbled as he smirked in his direction. "Haven't you heard the verdict?"
All eyes in the room laid on Indra, except for those of the servants who continued to pile food on already full plates.
"What verdict?" Indra demanded to know.
"It has come to our attention that you hurled a thunderbolt at the womb of Diti, killing her unborn child..." Mímir said, after which a servant helped him gulp wine from a cup.
**"So what?!"** Indra yelled in the room. **"For our standards, that's no more than many of these folks have done, it's no more than a drop of Ambrosia in a full cup! If I remember correctly, you, Ζεύς, killed your father Kronos, chopped him up in pieces and from his balls in the sea your sister Aphrodite spawned!"**
"Ööh Indra..." Mímir said, calmy. "Always comparing your deed to those of another. It is not the violent act that we care about, actually, I thought it was somewhat humorous as we don't like Diti anyways. But your little act of anger spawned 49 demons for her to use in her army against us, and we cannot let that go unpunished. Your punishment, Indra, is mortality. Now please, enjoy the food and try not to stare too much, gods tend to hate it when mere mortals do that."
​
**\[1978 years later, in the Forbidden Section of the Divine Vatican Library\]**
"Here it is," thought the intruder to herself. "The last artifact of Vedism, a splinter from Diti's womb."
The intruder put the womb splinter in both her palms, and said " मरुत", causing a black smoke to expell from it. The black smoke flew through the room in all directions, slowly shapeshifting into creatures. The intruder walked up to one of the deities, that held a golden weapon. Thunder and lightning emitted from the creature, and as it looked the intruder in the eyes, it grinded its iron teeth and roared, louder than a lion.
"Welcome, my child." Said the intruder, as she took off the scarf around her neck. "Welcome, my children. Your chariots await, please, join me in my battle against the council of Gods. As Diti left the Forbidden Library through the main gates, her Maruts tore through the city in search for their chariots and leaving no living alive. | 2021-02-20T05:06:43 | 2021-02-20T05:02:22 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] The ritual calls for 100 sacrifices, but reading carefully you realize it never specified they had to be human. Deciding to be a smartass, you got a petri dish full of bacteria and sacrificed that instead.
reposting an old prompt | It wasn’t much of a demon. It didn’t really have a proper form — it just sat like a lump of undulating mud on my left shoulder, creeping up my neck, impossible to hide.
I suppose that’s what I get for sacrificing bacteria instead of people, but what can you do? A hundred corpses would have been pretty hard to hide, and I don’t think a personal demon would have protected me from jail. Maybe it would have though, I don’t know. Point is, I didn’t want to kill people.
I performed the summoning in science class one dark, stormy day, like I was about to awaken Frankentstein’s monster. But nothing happened — at least not immediately. The demon took time to grow and no one even noticed it for a few days. But slowly, as it pulsed like a slug along my neck, people started to look at me funny.
”That makes me kind of uneasy,” said one guy, a star player on our football team. “It looks like my dead cat, sitting on your shoulder. Why’s it there?”
That was odd, I thought. It didn’t look anything like a cat to me. It was just a pulsing lump of wet clay, if anything. “I summoned a demon,” I replied. “And this is what I got.”
”It’s a demon all right,” he said. “It’s horrible. Why would you want to summon it?”
“I didn’t really mean to,” I said. “I didn’t know it’d be like this.”
He walked away with a disgusted look on his face and didn’t talk to me much more after that.
A girl I liked saw it next. She came up to me and said, “I always loved that singer. I don’t like seeing him like that though. He’s dead and should stay dead.”
”Singer?”
The girl told me she saw the deceased singer of her favourite rock band standing on my shoulder. He didn’t talk or move or anything. But she said his chest moved up and down like he was breathing, and she could hear a light gurgling, almost like a drowning sound coming from it.
Me and this girl were friends at the time, but she didn’t want to see me so much after that. Said seeing the singer on my shoulder made her sad. I couldn’t really blame her — it’d make me sad too, I think, to see my favourite deceased singer sitting on some guy’s shoulder.
This kept on happening. Everyone around the school who saw me, saw something different but equally upsetting sitting on my shoulder. Soon no one would talk to me for more than a greeting.
I tried to scrub it off in the shower but it set itself hard as rock when water touched it and it became part of me, like a growth on my skin. I tried to cut it off after that, but when the knife blade neared it, it became liquid and the knife simply oozed through it.
What could I do? It was my fault for summoning the demon, I knew that — now I was stuck with it.
One lunchtime, I was sitting alone on a table outside the cafeteria feeling sorry for myself. I was eating a peanut butter sandwich, when a girl new to the school sat down opposite me.
”You don’t mind, do you?” she asked. “But I’d rather eat outside and this is the only table with any space.”
It wasn’t a pleasant day. Thick clouds hung above, but maybe she liked clouds? Some people see all kinds of things in clouds, practically whatever they want.
”No, I don’t mind at all. But you might not want to join me.“ I gestured to the demon slouched on my shoulder.
She laughed and held up an arm for me to look at. A mound of purple-pink flesh rocked back and forth on her forearm. “Don’t worry. I’m used to it. See?”
I’d not known anyone else with a demon of their own before. I stared at it for quite some time, looking for some kind of familiar shape. ”I don’t see anything bad in yours,” I said. ”It’s just... a thing.”
”Sure. And that’s how I see yours. It’s just a shape.”
”Really? Everyone sees something sad in mine.”
”Before it appeared, something bad happened to you, right?”
I fell silent.
”It’s okay,” she said. “Really. Bad things happened to me too.”
”About a month before I summoned it, my mother passed away.”
”Ah. It was my father who died. I wonder if that’s why they’re in different positions?“
”I don’t understand,“ I said.
She paused and considered. “It’s not a demon people see on your neck. It’s not any form. It’s just an idea that we remind them of. Pity, I suppose.”
”Pity?”
”That’s what they see when they look at us. They feel sad, but they can’t know the feelings we have, so they see something that makes them the right type of sad. Or what they *think* is the right type of sad — because how could they know?”
“That’s... weird.”
She shrugged. “It’s how humans work. We can’t know each other’s feelings, so we make up our own to try to emulate them. To feel empathy. Does that make sense?”
”Not really.”
“It will.”
“Why don’t we see anything sad in each other’s?“
”We don’t need to put any meaning into them,” she said. “We don’t need to draw something that looks like that pain because we know exactly what it feels like already.”
I still wasn’t sure I followed, but I liked being able to eat my sandwich with someone else near me again.
”It’ll shrink in time,” she said. “Mine’s already half the size it was when...“
“Did I summon it?”
”I guess so. Yeah. In a way.”
I nodded. “So I’m going to be like this for a long time then, huh?”
“I don’t know if it’ll ever fully go away. But it will get better. People will see you again without only seeing it. I don’t just mean that I will, I mean that everyone will. There might come a time when only you’ll know it’s there — and even you might not be aware of it all the time.”
”Like how the sea can be calm for a long time, but there might be a storm waiting at the horizon.”
”Yes. Exactly. Mostly peace, sometimes a storm.“
I paused for a moment. ”What do I do until then?”
”Just, your best,” she said. “And maybe let me join your for lunch again tomorrow.” | Antonios rubbed his eyes, tired from the strain. He had just spent the last hour staring deeply at a collection of mites sitting on a polished stone dish. It had taken him a long time to harvest the bodies of these mites meticulously from various leaves, vines, insects, worms, some small animals, and even birds. There were all sorts of tiny mites crawling around on the dish, and when he focused his eyes he could even see that they were different from each other.
Antonios sat back on the ground outside and looked out towards the setting sun. The light was now too dim to really make out the tiny creatures he had harvested. Of course once he let them onto the stone dish those that were still alive would fly out, but the dead mites remained. These were the smallest creatures Antonios had ever spied, smaller than bugs and flies that all people were aware of. Could there be creatures even smaller?
The elderly man rose up and picked up the large urn next to him full of tiny mites and the various dead bodies of the creatures and plants he had harvested them from. It was time to return to his small home in the village after a long day of gathering the little creatures. It was time for dinner.
-----
A bright fire lit the darkened village. Antonios squinted down at the many figures gathered around the fire. He could hear the faint sounds of music, singing, and clapping. Ah yes the festival was now in full swing. He wondered to himself what delicious foods had been prepared. At first Antonios had been reluctant to return to his childhood village after living in the cosmopolitan Pella, but he was now reminded of the delicious rustic meals of the countryside. Antonios made his way down the hill toward his home.
Outside of his small stone house stood a few men, who looked somewhat impatient. They had knocked open his door and turned to look at him with scorn.
“You have finally decided to return?” derided Antypomos, the largest of the small group, “where are all the sheep?”
Oh blast! Antonios had forgotten to order the gathering of the flock for the festival. But he had never held the gods in much esteem. He had flaunted them behind closed doors with a few other students in his time of study and nothing had ever happened to him. Perhaps he could connive something.
“Oh gentlemen,” Antonios greeted them with a smile, “I have something even better. Come! Come follow your village priest.”
There was an audible groan from a few of them as they fell into line behind Antonios as he headed towards the lively festival.
-----
Antonios made his way to the fire. The music, singing, and dancing began to abate as the crowd noticed him pushing through. Antonios climbed onto a stone table to address the crowd near the fire.
“Fellow villagers! I have returned!”
He noticed the quizzical looks on some of the villagers, though some looked with more looks of scorn.
“I have come to save us some trouble!”
There was a nervousness that began to buzz through the crowd.
“Every year we sacrifice 100s of sheep in our many celebratory libations! But what if we did not have to sacrifice all those plump and wool laden sheep?”
There was now a murmur that rose up from his fellow townsfolk. Antonios raised his urn above his head.
“In here I have collected hundreds of creatures, and dare I say there may be thousands unseen!”
The crowd began to chatter in low confusion.
“Behold! The gods will be satisfied and we will have our sheep!”
Antonios tossed the urn into the fire, and it burst into shards. Antonios laughed but was greeted with silence. He turned back to the crowd, many of whom were now glaring at him.
“What was in there?” shouted someone from the crowd.
“You need not-”
“What. Was. In. There?” an angry Antypomos asked threateningly as he approached Antonios, “Was it your bugs you are always gaping at?”
“No, no,” Antonios replied, the nervousness trickling out through his voice.
“You heretic!” someone yelled.
“You are a shame to your brother!”
“Why did you even come back?”
“Now, now, let us not-” Antonios began to implore the crowd. His reply was cut short as he felt something slam into the back of his head. He stumbled forward but his old legs managed to catch him before he fell off the table. The crowd was now jeering.
“You are a heretic!”
“How could you cheat the gods? In the very sight of Mount Olympus!”
“Do you want to doom us all?”
Antonios felt another stone hit his side.
“Wait!” he cried out, “tomorrow! We will gather the sheep tomorrow!”
Another stone hit him, followed by another. Antonios now clutched his head and ducked down. The crowd was now angrily jeering all around him.
“Kill him!” a man shouted, “Kill the arrogant bastard!”
Antonios now felt someone grab his leg and pull him down from the table. His back hit the hard stone with a solid thwack. Another stone hit him painfully in the chest, thrown from right next to him. The jeering was all he could hear as he dizzily tried to regain a sense of his surroundings. He held his hand up to shield himself as he tried to utter a defense. Another rock slammed into him and knocked the wind out of him. Followed by another and another. The crowd surged forward, swallowing up the old scholar with their shouts.
-----
The hawk’s talons squeezed the small sparrow’s body. She peered down at her quarry, now unmoving. Satisfied with her catch she glanced up toward the setting sun. She had managed to find something before all the light was gone. Clutching the lifeless body of her next meal she hopped forward and caught a gust of wind underneath her wings and rose up into the air. Her nest was much further below the summit but she would be able to make it back before dark. She banked her wings and turned toward the east, gliding down away from the empty windswept crest of Mount Olympus. | 2021-06-08T09:00:56 | 2021-06-08T08:47:07 | 3,194 | 106 |
[WP] The remains of the human race live in a glass dome with no entrance or exit which protects them from the wasteland on the outside, one morning a dusty hand print appears on the outside | For countless centuries, the remainder of humanity has been trapped in an enormous glass dome, blackened on the outside by pollution. Essentially 10 billion or so goldfish in an aquarium painted over with black paint. The identity of whoever placed it there has been lost, as is what it protects us from. As such, it has been named Sanctum. But our world is a joke. People have stopped wondering what the outside is like, not caring whether we should be able to get outside. The Final Push, a rebellion that took place six years ago, was the last time anyone tried to breach the glass. For all their hard work, not even a small chip or fracture was ever seen. Now our government controls the masses with caste systems and drugs, similar to a book my mother stole for me to read when I was young. It has gotten to the point where we are really just goldfish being led by a pack of barracuda. I knew my find would change the course of our lives forever. But I didn't realize how much.
My name is Rayvin Amsel. I live in one of hundreds of slums in the lowest level. All the industrial waste and pollution gets dumped here, and as the filth of Sanctum, the people of the slums are thrown down here too. It's always pitch black down here, due to there being a physical barrier three hundred feet above the ground level preventing us from seeing any kind of light and also due to lack of maintenance on the fluorescent lights that have long since burnt out or shattered. The air is humid and heavy, making it difficult to breathe. We have to navigate using small rechargeable flashlights, and any form of transportation besides walking is impossible because of the narrow streets.
About a week ago, I was walking home from the border after seeing my girlfriend, Imogen. She is the most caring, gentle soul I know, and I'm positive if she was born in one of the higher classes, she would be seen as a goddess. Absolutely beautiful and perfect woman. But I digress. I walked a few blocks, trying to save the batteries on my flashlight by navigating using the beams from other pedestrians. That's how I got lost. I finally turned my flashlight on after the crowd completely disappeared. Looking around, I realized where I was. The end of the world. A grimy black wall of glass that stretched on for miles loomed before me. I was standing in the no-man's land between my village and the one thing preventing humanity from freedom.
I walked up to the glass slowly. Its presence signified everything I hated about this world. As such, all the pain, suffering, and domination I had grown accustomed to suddenly burst my emotional dam with the fervor of a pack of rabid Dire-Rats after a stray wanderer. I stood there for what seemed like an eternity, screaming at the wall, kicking it, clawing at it. It stated back at me mirthfully. Trough my tears, I wiped away at the pollution and grime, hoping for a sign, a reason, any kind of explanation for this twisted, foul place. I'm sure people out here were used to stuff like this by now. I was becoming another Scavenger, slowly going insane from my entrapment.
Suddenly, the most blinding light imaginable pierced my eyes. I yelled in pain and fell back on to the dusty ground. The entire area was illuminated. I tried to get my eyes adjusted to the light by twisting away from it. What I saw made me gasp. The light hitting the ground was in the vague shape of a single refracted hand print. It was definitely not mine, seeing as I had wiped away the grime with my sleeves. That could only mean one thing.
*It came from outside.*
I picked myself up and ran to the hole I had made. My eyes were adjusted well enough that I could look outside now. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was a green forest, just like the ones my mother had described to me as a kid, and ten times more beautiful than anything my imagination ever managed to conjure up. Just as tears started flowing from my eyes again, I saw movement. I dried my eyes and leaned in for a closer look. Staring back at me was a small child, just as surprised as I was.
>[Edit: Wow you guys! Thanks for all the praise! I'll write the next part as soon as I get a chance!] | One hundred and forty years. That is how long they tell it has been. The dome protects us, shelters us from the harsh wasteland outside.
Sixteen years since they constructed that dome that they tell us not to go near. There are armed guards posted all around the border. No one knows what is inside, but whatever it is must be important.
They tell us the dome has no exits to prevent us from exposing ourselves, and others, to the toxic air. One breach and we are all dead. The air outside is so polluted that a person will die in a single breath. This is what we learn in the classrooms. Being born in this bubble I have never seen the world beyond, but I don't care to. I can see ash, and death, in my textbooks. That is close enough for me.
My friends tell me that they are doing weird experiments inside. Some say aliens, others say animal torture. In either case I want to see what is really going on. Having been raised an activist I stand up against intolerance and injustice. Animal, or alien, cruelty is unjust.
One day, while lost in my studies, there was a commotion. When I went to investigate I saw my classmates standing around in the lavatory. When I asked what was causing such a fuss they pointed to glass that was the only source of outside light. The shape was of a hand. The material that made the print was the source of much discussion.
I had breached the perimeter with my friends in tow. The three of us sneaked our way past several armed guards. With the adrenaline pumping we stealthily made our way closer to the globe. I slipped and fell in the mud. "Shit, watch your step." I told the others. My hands were covered, as were my clothes. When we reached the dome I place a hand on the glass and tried to spy in with the other.
"Mr. Galden, what was the hand print outside of the glass?" I asked during class the next day.
"I have been told of this, never you mind students. This is clearly someone making a jest. Humor, if you will."
I knew he was trying to avoid talking about it. So I asked more questions, "What was the substance it was made with? How did it get on the outside?"
"Children, we are safely tucked away from the harshness of the outside. Fear not, for the great father protects us. Now, open your books to chapter fifteen."
Class carried on, the questions averted. Perhaps from the other students but not myself. I thought about it all day. I waited until lights out, then I sneaked out of my room to the lavatory, the print was gone. "How, who?" I whispered quietly to myself.
One of the guards caught us snooping around and apprehended us. They held us in a bright room tied to chairs. No one came, nothing happened for hours. We each nodded off in our chairs. Finally, a man came in.
"Do you know who I am?" He asked in a calm, whisper like voice. We strained to hear him, even in this tiny room.
"Benedict Trayour. The billionaire." One of my friend's spoke up. I had never seen this man before, how did my friend know him.
"Good, then you know what happens next." He walked out of the room. Four armed men came into the room.
The other students claimed to hear thunder last night. We were lead to believe that it never rained, not since the great war. I was beginning to question everything now. Was there something more outside that they didn't want us to see?
______________________________________________________________________________________________________
Edited: Fixed a couple typos and added a sentence I noticed was missing.
| 2014-12-15T23:12:23 | 2014-12-15T21:27:49 | 367 | 31 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily. | We wanted the planet, we wanted its resources.
The only way would be to remove the human population. This would be a ground battle, as we couldn't risk destroying the planet.
As a race that had no home to call its home, we've lived in space for the last 8,000 years, pulling resources from anywhere we could find. Earth would now be our home. We haven't had a planet since a civil war that destroyed our home planet. As part of the warrior caste, we've mastered space warfare.
Upon landing, we arrived in our augmentation suits which gave us our own atmosphere and allowed us to move faster and stronger than our organic bodies would normally allow.
Our mistake was simple, we had observed these humans and saw they were a pacifist society. They showed no signs of weaponry or aggression.
What we didn't know, is that humans were territorial and defensive. Our first wave of soldiers landed and upon the first signs of our aggression, we were met with resistance. Their weaponry would never be used in a space faring species, projectile weapons had not been used in millennia and we had only protection for laser and long range atomic based weaponry.
Their projectile weapons passed through our shielding, even our ships were completely vulnerable. Our point defense systems could not handle the size and sheer volume of their weaponry.
Our biggest losses came within minutes of landing when our entire force was annihilated. We should have known better to land in the area they call Texas. | 300 years of peace. Fuck, we were kinda hoping for this. I mean peace is great and all......but, I dunno. I think we all wanted to think we had evolved beyond, risen to a higher level of being. But, no....no that's not really true is it? Sure we made some advances during three centuries of peace but.......nothing like when we are at war. Oh yes, war. You want creative? As a species that's when we get the most inventive. And true, it was nice, not fighting amongst ourselves but I knew, we all knew that itch would need to be scratched. So, thanks! We've been needing this for a long time. So, sit back, relax! It'll all be over soon. Cause you've only seen what we build for fun! Now that we're pissed off, watch what we build.
Sincerely,
All of us. | 2019-02-26T11:56:18 | 2019-02-26T10:48:47 | 36 | 22 |
[WP] You bought a pair of headphones that are acting up. Every time you plug them in, you hear a different sound - first crying, then a war-zone, now just static. You plug them in again and are frightened to hear a desperate, tearful warning: "Whatever you do, DON'T unplug the headphones again." | They pleaded for me to never unplug the headphones. It all sounded very desperate, so I just left them plugged in.
After a few months, I just bought a new device. Wouldn't you know it, the new headphones had the same problem. So I just left them plugged in.
I used my device for a long time and dutifully never unplugged the headphones. It wasn't just because of the tearful, frightened pleading. It was also more practical. I didn't really care either way, it's just headphones, just sound. Why worry? Then, the same thing happened to my TV. I unplugged it to connect to my computer, but the screen started to show horrific images or sometimes just static. Then finally, a desperate, crying man: "please, please don't unplug the tv again." So I didn't.
After years of living like this, my girlfriend nearly unplugged the headphones.
"What are these for? Just pull them out." She said.
"Babe. You can't. It's like, I don't know." I struggled for words. "It's very important or something."
She looked at me incredulously.
"You're kidding?"
"Look, there's some sort of extra-dimensional shenanigans going on. We don't want any part of it, trust me."
"I'm unplugging them. Grow up or something."
She unplugged the headphones. At first, nothing happened. She smirked at me, triumphant. She began to say something when, from behind, a surge of dozens of little red hands grabbed her. The hands appeared to be metal. They were glowing hot, so hot that I felt the heat from across the room. My girlfriend's flesh seared and sizzled in their grasp. My girlfriend began to scream, but the mass of tiny red hands grabbed her mouth and held it open, her flesh burning all the while. The hands reached inside and with combined strength, tore out my girlfriend's tongue.
I didn't see where the hands came from, at first. They were coming from *inside the headphones*. The remaining calm part of my mind noted that it was probably some kind of hammerspace, teleportation type deal. For the most part I was occupied by how loud her screams were, even without a tongue. Her eyes lolled down, her spasming limbs stopped moving and she was dead. But she was still screaming. Then I realized that she wasn't the one screaming, that was me. I was the one screaming.
The tiny red hands pulled my girlfriend into the headphones. Within a moment, she had disappeared completely. Like she was never there to begin with. The hands were gone also, with no sign that they had ever existed.
But the smell remained. That awful, unmistakeable smell of burnt flesh. The smell of burnt *hair*. After gathering myself, I walked over slowly and plugged the headphones back in.
It took me years before I was ready to start dating again after that. I made sure to mention it in my profile: "Ladies, please don't unplug my stuff. If you can't, swipe left." | I strolled into my neighborhood dollar store for a pair of headphones to replace my 99-cent earbuds that only worked when I wrapped the wire tightly around my phone. Buying another shitty pair of earbuds only for them to break after a day wasn't at the top of my shopping list. A wise stranger once said, "splurge on the things you love." So, I set my sights on a pair of ten-dollar headphones--a knockoff with rosy plastic and purple scribbles--with care and a bit of luck they'll last for a couple of months, maybe longer.
At the checkout, I zoned out watching live updates on the Iowa Democratic primary pop into my for you page on the New York Times app. A nudge from the man behind me reminded me that I was holding up the line. I handed my headphones to the cashier, paid, and powerwalked to my car, ready to rip into the plastic clamshell and tear out my headphones.
Using my hands to open the package wasn't my best idea: the clam bit back, making small cuts on my right ring and index finger. My blood trickled down into the container and down my palm. With a baby wipe lazily wrapped around my right hand and the brilliant idea of wedging my keys in between the, for some reason, sharpened plastic clam; I avenged my wounded fingers and plucked my rosy pearl from the plastic.
I plugged the headphones into my phone for a quick jam session before driving back home and pressed play on my feel-good playlist, but nobody sang to me--they were broken. Just like my crappy earbuds, I only heard a faint buzzing and crackling. I tinkered with the end of the wire where the rubber insulation widened. I pinched and twisted it until the crackling loudened to popping. It felt like someone was sabering champagne bottles and let the corks hit my eardrum. I took off my headphones and unplugged them.
"worthless," I muttered, then plugged it in again.
I put my headphones back on and heard someone breathing--unsteadily like they were holding back tears. But apparently, my headphones weren't totally useless. The right side of my lips curled upward. I grabbed my phone from the front cupholder. The back cupholder was reserved for coffee and other beverages, and the occasional snack since it sunk deeper than the front one. But my music was paused. Nothing was playing, so why did I hear sobbing? I pinched the end of the wire again.
"Please don't!" a voice shrieked. | 2020-04-02T03:58:31 | 2020-04-01T23:18:06 | 31 | 16 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "I don't know if she's all that daft. I think she may be a witch."
"Who? Mad Mary of the Idiot Wood!? A witch? I doubt that very much."
"She could be playing dumb to throw us off, so we don't suspect."
"We are talking about the daft old lady who'll give you vegetables if you dump your chamber pot in that thing behind her house. That one, right?"
"She does have the best vegetables in the county. Could be she needs it for her gardening spells."
"The same lady who gave a shilling for a every dead rat you could bring her then burned all the rats?"
"We were the only village that didn't get the plague. Sounds like a sacrifice to me. And, I'm pretty sure she cursed the barber."
"Cursed the barber?"
"Yeah, my mum says that years ago Mad Mary and he got in an argument 'cause her kid's humours were all out of
balance and he wanted to bleed the tyke. The kid died. Ever since then, he loses more patients than he saves."
"Well, you've convinced me. I guess we've got to burn her, then?"
"I don't see anything else we can do. Can't have a witch in the village."
edit: formatting. | "Dear, don't listen to her!"
I stood square and looked mom in the eye. "I will. She explained more of it and it all hangs together. She said we could *die*. I think we should at least… check it."
Mom took a deep breath and came around the table. "I had hoped she'd be able to hold her tongue around the kids. What a thing to obsess about! Lousy woman, not letting us handle things in our own time. Honey!"
Dad appeared momentarily. "Mmmm?"
Mom looked to me. "Would you repeat that for father?"
So I did, hesitantly.
Dad and Mom stared to each other for a moment. Then, Dad began the terrible secret of death: "Her concerns *were* real, and her solutions *were* good, once, long ago, well before we spread from our first planet…" | 2017-09-14T12:11:29 | 2017-09-14T09:10:03 | 240 | 18 |
[WP] "Apologies, human. Unfortunately, you were accidentally killed by a glactic federation officer during an altercation on your planet. Currently we are constructing you a replacement body, and in return for your ensured silence on our existence, I wanted to ask if you wanted anything... changed." | Ben awoke on a table, finding that he could not move, just when he was about to scream a figure hovered above him.
He could hear a voice through the ringing in his ears, “We don’t usually do this,” it said.
“Where—” Ben coughed.
Ben tried to focus his eyes, the shape of whoever was speaking to him varied from a slender shadow to a wide blob, the light made it impossible to see anything clearly.
“You died. Well, we killed you, but we didn’t mean to. Anyways, we decided to re-plant your consciousness into a new body, as recompense. Would you like to have anything,” the voice said, drawing out the last word, “altered? I know how fixated you humans can be on cosmetics.”
Ben’s eyes widened, which made him immediately squint harder from the bright light.
“I can change… anything?” Ben finally asked.
“We can restructure anything from your nose to your genetics, your brain. Anything within human limitations, basically. And before you ask, yes, we can make you look good in tights, but no, we can’t give you flying capabilities or eyes that shoot laser. Human.”
Ben started to slowly see his surroundings, he was in a room that resembled an operating room. Everything seemed to have a splash of grey or white, he could now see that the voice belonged to a blue humanoid who, although standing, struggled to look him in the eye from his meagre height. The man, presumably, resembled a mix between a human and a pug, Ben thought.
“Can you fix my brain?” Ben asked tentatively.
The pug-creature frowned, “You showed no signs of decreased brain function before we, eh, vaporized you. Do you mean you want increased intelligence?”
Ben suddenly found it hard to rest his eyes on the odd fellow, “I don’t think that would help, please,”
“We can’t *fix* something that isn’t broken, please describe your issue.”
Ben opened his mouth several times without any sound escaping, “It’s like when you know you’re viewing a beautiful landscape, but no matter the angle, it’s flat, two-dimensional.”
The alien tried to fill in the blanks, “It’s starting to sound like you want better eye-sight, which is of course, no problem.”
“No, that’s not it,” Ben quickly replied, “It’s like when you listen to a perfect composition, an orchestra, but nothing within you stirs!”
“Your hearing, then…?”
“You don’t understand,” Ben snapped, “I felt nothing!”
“We can make doubly sure your nerve-endings are working before we send you back,” The strange humanoid said, slightly flustered.
Ben violently expelled as much air as his weak body could manage, “I want to be happy!”
The pair was silent for not an insignificant amount of time, “Happy,” the alien mumbled, “that’s a bit trickier.”
“You said you could alter the brain, damn it, alter it!”
“We can balance the chemicals in your brain. At least, we can start it off that way. To stay in this balanced state is largely up to you, however. To avoid suffering completely, if that’s what you ultimately seek, is impossible.”
Ben could feel a familiar numbness slowly slither around his soul, “Make me perfectly balanced then, or let me fade away.”
*****
Thank you for reading! | Everything was dark. The black surrounded me and not a single shred of light was visible.
"Hello?" I shouted. Nothing replied.
I tried to move my arms and legs. Strange, I felt numb. I couldn't feel my limbs or turn my head or grasp the darkness in front of me. I was nothing, just a voice. I was truly alone with my own thoughts.
"Hello, can anybody hear me?" I was desperate now. "Please! Anyone?!"
".....cnnyoooheerrrmeeee...." I could hear another, deep gargle of a voice that was indistinguishable.
"Please! Help me! Get me out of here!" I pleaded.
".....Can you hear me better now human?" The deep voice was clear now.
"Yes I can hear you!" I shouted. "Where am I? What's going on? Why can't I feel anything? Have I been in an accident?"
The deep voice coughed and hesitated a moment before replying.
"This may be hard to hear dear human, you are currently without a body due to...unforseen circumstances. However, we have managed to salvage your brain and nervous system and are communicating through technology your primitive species would not understand.."
I tuned out as the voice continued to speak. This had to be a dream. A cold, dark, horrible dream. Was I experiencing that thing called sleep paralysis? Like my brother gets? I tuned back into the voice.
".......and so we offer our most sincere apologies, human. Unfortunately, you were accidentally killed by a glactic federation officer during an altercation on your planet. Currently we are constructing you a replacement body, and in return for your ensured silence on our existence, I wanted to ask if you wanted anything... changed."
"Changed? How can you change my body if I don't have one?"
The voice sighed. "Did you not listen to a thing I said?"
I was getting cranky now. "Blah blah, sincerest apologies, replacement body and killed by galactic....What??????"
The voice had a sharp edge to it now. The kind I would hear from my exasperated Mother. "You are not technically dead child. In exchange for your silence we will construct your original body with enhancements of your choosing or a completely new body from scratch. Simply imagine what you would like to have and it will be done."
I wondered how far I could take this. If this was really a dream then screw it. I would have the body of my dreams.
I imagined having huge eyes like an anime girl and long blonde hair. Oooihh what would it be like to be a male with the huge boobs of an anime chick but a dong hanging off my front? Huh. I imagined the end result and chuckled to myself.
The voice piped up. "Alright, your choice has been accepted."
I suddenly panicked. "No wait! That's not what I want!"
The voice continued. "Prepare for enhancements." | 2019-10-28T11:41:31 | 2019-10-28T11:22:42 | 189 | 50 |
[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you. | *So she was right after all.*
*It's all cyclical.*
I smiled in regret as I shoved my hands in my pockets and shuffled toward him- the young boy sitting on the park bench, head buried in his Gameboy. I led with my cane and used it as a pivot to sit down next to him. My knees popped as they always did when I bent them, loud enough to draw the boy's attention away from his screen. His hair still had a lot of blonde in it- it would darken with age to a deep brown, and then he'd grow it out once he started skateboarding.
"Hey, there," I croaked before coughing once to clear my throat.
"Hey," he said in a disinterested tone.
"What are you playing?"
"Pokemon."
His answers were short. I could tell by the screen he was fighting a gym leader, and decided to let him finish before continuing.
"You won," I said with a smile.
"I always win," he said apathetically before sipping on his caprisun.
I looked around at the beauty of the park for a moment before pulling a bag from my pocket. My old hands trembled as I undid the ziploc and reached for the duckfeed within.
"That's such an old man thing to do," he laughed.
I smiled, "You'd be amazed the things you do when you truly miss someone..."
He lowered his game and watched as I spread the feed. Ducks raced from the pond up the grassy knoll and over to the bench where they quickly wolfed down the feed.
"You miss somebody?" He asked innocently. "Why don't you go see them?"
"I think I'm about to," I said as I dug back into the bag and spread more feed. He turned his eyes back toward his game and muttered, "that's good."
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye before adjusting my glasses, "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," he said quickly.
"What do you feel... is important in life?"
He shrugged his shoulders, "getting a job. Having a family."
I chuckled lightly to myself, transitioning into a cough before tossing more duck feed, "No, that's the answer you think I want to hear."
I saw him turn to me in my peripheral vision.
"Tell me, what do *you* think is important in life?"
He faced forward staring out at the pond for several seconds before saving his game and turning it off. He shoved the device into his pocket and sighed, "I want to travel the world. Far and wide."
"I see," I responded. "You should do it."
"I'm gonna," he said nonchalantly. "Soon as I make enough money."
"It'll never be enough," I shot back. "You don't want to be an old man looking back on what could have been. Take the risk. You'll find your way."
He sighed as though he were tired of listening to me.
I understood.
"When I was young," I began. "I never liked when strangers would just come up and talk to me for no reason. It's funny how as you get older... You'd do anything for someone just to listen..."
"I don't think I'm gonna be old for a long time," he said in his monotone way as he watched the ducks.
"It happens fast," I said just above a whisper. "It happens when you're not looking. When that Wednesday you don't remember disappears..."
"Huh?"
"Do me a favor, kid..." I turned and smiled at him, "hug your dad. Make sure he knows he's your hero."
He cocked his head, "What?"
I stood up and emptied the remaining contents of the bag before leaning forward on my cane. "Life isn't a cartoon. You're not the main character."
"I know that!" He said in an insulted tone.
"Your body has limits. Listen to them."
He stayed quiet as I watched the water shimmer on the lake. I turned to see him but he was gone. When my eyes returned to the lake, there was a man in white standing in the middle. I dropped my cane to the ground and shuffled toward the water.
The people standing behind him.
I knew all of them.
- - -
r/a15MinuteMythos | There I was. Astonishingly small. Looking up at everything with polite curiousity as I made my way down the square. I almost gasped at the sight of my younger self.
I rose to my feet, the rags that barely covered my modesty shook, threatening to crumble away as I swatted the flies away and tried to make myself look somewhat less decrepit, less unapproachable.
I vaguely recalled it. It felt like a deja vu of a deja vu. All those years ago and in this square. The old man that was just me in the decades to come.
What had I said? What had I said? Am I doomed to repeat what I said to myself again? No! What I had said had not made sense. I would have remembered! No. I had to be clear, and use my words in a way a 7 year old child would understand. I cursed my unkempt beard and matted hair.
How could I get through to myself without appearing mad?
Was I mad?
The child looked nothing like me, I realized. Was it even me?
Why would there be a younger version of me walking around?
No. It was me. It had to be. I remembered an old man talking to me in this very square, hadn't I?
Had I?
Stop it.
"Kheng Ian," I called. But my voice had not seen use in days. It came out hoarse and raspy and soft.
I cleared my throat, spitting up a thick globule of phlegm.
"Kheng Ian!" I shouted desperately, hoping he'd turn to look.
He did.
Joy rose within me as the boy tried to find the source of the sound, and when his eyes met mine he frowned.
I nodded at him, beckoning him. My plan to look approachable all but forgotten as I stared wide-eyed at myself from the past.
From the past? Then how was I here?
No matter.
Maybe he had the explanations.
What was I thinking? He was a child. I was a child.
As the young self made his way cautiously towards this dirt-stained, ghastly begger apparition, I tried to form the thoughts that would become the words that I had to relay to him.
What is it? I had to tell him something! Why could I not remember?
Why could I not remember anything?
He stopped a little ways away, turning his nose.
I probably smelled.
"I am you!" I said, nodding vigorously.
He squinted at me.
"I am what you'll become! You need to stop it!" I said, smiling. Yes. This was how. If I could advise him against the decisions that led to this.
What were those decisions again? Why was it so hard to remember?
"I am what you'll become." The younger version repeated what I said back to me.
I faltered.
What?
"What?" I balked.
"In 700 years the cycle will begin anew."
"What?"
"Memory is a fickle thing. We are cursed with the life of a phoenix."
I stared at the boy, who smiled a little sadly as he dug around in his pocket, before flipping a coin towards me.
I caught it, barely.
"Remember yourself." The boy advised before moving on.
I stared as he walked away, his small figure getting smaller and smaller before he disappeared around a corner, not once looking back.
I looked at the coin he had thrown at me.
It was a heavy coin, thick with simple detailing and design. But not of any currency I recognized. ***777***, it read on one side, and on the other side there was a crest of a bird, talons and wings outstretched, breathing flames that curled around the circumference of the coin face.
No. Not a bird.
A phoenix.
And then I remembered. | 2021-07-08T08:20:49 | 2021-07-08T06:49:00 | 215 | 75 |
[WP] On their first birthday, everyone on Earth is given a wristband that will glow brighter depending on how far away they are from their soulmate. But, yours has never even turned on. | So far down.
That was my first thought, standing at the edge of the roof of a twenty story building. It was so far down. The wind began to blow again, sending my dress into spirals and almost making me lose my footing on the small ledge. Was I really going through with this? I mean, did I really want to end it all?
I didn't really have a bad life. I had a stable job that paid okay, a place to live that was close to the city, friends. But there was one thing that was missing, and I knew it always would be.
I eyed the bracelet that sat idle on my right wrist. The same bracelet that everyone was given when they are born, one that glowed for everyone else in the world, but never glowed for me. What was wrong with me? My friends said don't give up, that one day it would come alive with light. That one day I would be in the right place at the right time. However, with thirty two years behind me, not an inkling of light had ever escaped it's metallic band.
"Stop! Please don't jump!"
I whirled around at the sudden voice behind me. A man was standing at the entrance to the rooftop, coming steadily closer, talking to me above the gusts of wind that swirled around him and kicked up his brown hair, misplacing it in his face. Again, he repeated himself, "Please don't jump."
I stared at him for a minute, captivated by the sight of him. Then, I came to my senses, shook my head, "You don't understand! I can't live like this anymore!"
"Like what?" He asked as he stopped a few feet from me, his hands up in a gesture I could only guess was one that told me, don't worry, I won't come any closer.
I sighed, shaking my head as I turned my whole body towards him. Might as well humor him. Without looking at his face, I held up my arm, showed him the lifeless bracelet that was wrapped around my wrist.
"It never glows," I said almost too softly, so that my words were almost carried completely away with the wind, "It never has and it never will."
I peeked at his face, at the pitiful expression that I knew would follow, but when I looked up at his face, I saw that he was smiling, laughing almost.
A flash of anger ran through me, and I had the urge to just jump then and there while I was staring into his face, just to see that stupid smile disappear.
But then he held up his right hand too, and showed me his bracelet. It was as lifeless as mine, no color glowed against his skin, nothing.
"No," I said, "No, this can't happen. I've never seen-"
He smiled, "-I know, come on, let's get off this roof," He said holding out his bracelet to me, and his hand.
I took it.
edit: Formatting is hard...
| They always say that it isn't my fault.
For as long as I can remember, I've been an outsider. It's not that my personality is all that objectionable, nor that I'm somehow incapable of connecting with the people around me. No, the source of my isolation stems from the thin band of black metal locked around my right wrist. For others, the omnipresent trinket is a sign of hope; a literal light in the darkness when they're feeling their worst. For me, it's something akin to a shackle, keeping me restrained from ever truly developing a real relationship.
They always say that it isn't my fault... but their words hide the truth that shines through from their eyes: Someone with a bracelet as truly dark as mine must be *unworthy* of love. Someone without even the faintest spark must hold some terrible secret that makes them undeserving of companionship. One could go their whole life without harming another, or work day and night to suppress the facets of their being that the world deems unacceptable. Without that precious glow, however - without the visible sign that *someone* in the world could love me - even an internal struggle might as well be a despicable crime against all whom I encounter.
I've tried to hide my affliction in so many ways, but even the act of keeping my cuff concealed draws suspicious, judgmental glances from those around me. It's to be expected, I suppose, when one lives in a culture where each passerby glances first at their own wrist and then at yours. I've taken comfort from those who view my segregation as an aphrodisiac, as though being permanently sealed into a state of solitude was somehow arousing. Even then, though, the quiet wariness (and even pity) does nothing for me, save to further cement what I've known from the beginning:
I am incapable of love.
My emotions are not unlike your own. I hurt, I cry, and I sympathize with the pain of those around me. Nothing inside of me is broken, despite what a stranger might silently believe. I have all the feelings and desires that a person whose bracelet *does* glow would experience... but mine are thought of as being twisted and corrupt. *That* is the source of my loneliness, and the reason I will likely die alone: It's not that I'm any different from the people with visibly shining light; it's that world sees fit to constantly remind me that I'm different. My manacle will never come alive, for there will always be those around me who insist that it shouldn't.
After all... before one can love another, they must first know how to love themselves. | 2015-03-22T11:21:58 | 2015-03-22T11:19:52 | 54 | 25 |
[WP] The self help group you started has turned into a cult. | All I had wanted were erections again and instead, I had gotten a global socio-economic superpower shadow organization. Really, I’d like to blame Viagra for this one. Them and their god damn claims that anyone could get those four hour erections. I took a fistful and of their cure-all pills, bought a subscription to Playboy, and barely got a half-chub. That’s when I reached out to the internet (because I wasn’t dumb enough to trust a white-cloaked, whiny science bitch) and organized the first meeting of the Free Willy’s.
My Facebook group had claimed an attendance of ten people. I got three hundred. And standing there on my apartment patio, looking down on three hundred pairs of teary and desperate eyes, how could I tell them I had no idea how people got glorious erections anymore? So, I told them the first thing that came to mind.
“My fellow Free Willy’s! I have seen the truth and it wasn’t sold to me by some corporate pig, nor some *educated* science bitch. The truth is through Order of… uh… the God of all things hard and straight, though slightly curved for some of us!”
It was bad. But public speaking had never been my forte. Imagine my surprise when three hundred people exploded into applause. Some threw up hats like they had just graduated dong college. I couldn’t believe it.
Now, I know that I shouldn’t have kept going, but nobody had ever cheered for anything I ever said before. Sure they’ve jeered. Some cheered when I stopped talking before. But never did a crowd want me to *keep* talking. I had to milk it for all it was worth.
“The Free Willy’s are dedicated to pleasing our Lord of all things hard and straight, though slightly curved for some of us! He wishes that we expand and teach others of his power. Only then, will he grant us some of it.”
“So you promise I can get an erection again?” a voice shouted out from the crowd.
I nodded. “Our Lord is here for the most pitiful of us. Even you my friend. Even you.”
---
The second meeting boasted a thousand members. There were even some women in that one. At least, I thought they were women.
The third meeting was when we had started getting our high profile candidates. These were men of power who could truly change the world. But they were also men of action. They wanted their erections and they wanted them now. It wasn’t enough to keep expanding, we had to do more. So I started our first Initiative—Project Schlong.
After all, it was the corporate pharmaceutical pigs that had put us in this position. It was the smug, stethoscope-wearing science bitches that had shown us the promise land with no way of getting there. And so we slowly took over the healthcare system and then the top pharmaceutical companies and even that wasn’t enough.
Eventually, the Free Willy’s had seats at Congress, the House of Representatives, even a Supreme Court Justice. All this, without a single erection.
---
“High Dong Commander,” Second-level Initiative Marcus said and kneeled.
“How goes the corporate raid?” I asked.
“We almost have controlling stock in Disney between our members. Soon, we will able to spread our propaganda through animated talking bunnies.”
“Good. Good. The Lord of all things hard and straight, but sometimes curved for some of us will be quite proud. Perhaps he may even personally grant you that which all men seek.”
Marcus’s eyes went wide. His knees trembled as he pushed himself back up. “Sir, I can feel His power. I think it’s happening!”
My own eyes went wide. “No way,” I blurted. “Show me!” And then I clamped my mouth shut, realizing how idiotic I sounded.
To my surprise, he pulled his pants down.
There it was. That which all men sought. I couldn’t keep my eyes off it. I even salivated a little and slowly, I felt the Lord’s power within myself. Never before had I felt His power so strongly inside me.
And that’s when I realized that I didn’t have erectile issues, I was just gay.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 5+ stories weekly and ~200 stories already written! | Initially, I had only the sincere hope that I could help someone. It started simply; I would freely give to any whom asked, expecting nothing in return, a hit of LSD or a shot of ketamine. It was my intent to awaken these people—mostly heroin addicts—to the intricacies of our reality. But the prolonged highs, which were best measured in days, slowly escaped my grasp, my sphere of influence, my carefully constructed extension of my persona. My therapy group was no longer led by me, but by a single abstraction that I, after ingesting 2000 ug of LSD, had created: "The principal feature of enlightenment is self-governance."
Of course, none of us, myself obviously included, knew what this had meant; this abstraction was merely words strung together in a seemingly coherent manner, meant only to maintain the appearance of meaning. And so we continued to sit in a circle, in a candle-lit room of a vacant house I'd begun squatting in some several months earlier, myself distributing the enlightenment—the drugs and the words—and my patients graciously absorbing, like sponges or towels, the pure water of my knowledge.
It was a summer month when I realized that I had developed a set of arbitrary platitudes—fences aren't real, all that matters is taco meat and Mountain Dew boxes, your mother is not your mother, etc—which were more important to my sponges than I was; and though I was initially flattered—it had occurred to me that I was not just my body but my mind as well, and my mind was indeed this set platitudes, principles, and abstractions—I soon realized that they had absorbed all they could. The implacable heat of a sun of intellectual limitations beat down on my sponges, and I soon realized that not a trace of my initial teachings were to be found in their dry little minds.
I returned the house one day, after picking up more horse tranquilizer, to discover that a fence had been erected, quickly and shoddily around its perimeter; the taco meat was gone, removed from the coolers; the Mountain Dew boxes had been piled in the center of our meditation room, burned to flaky ashes; and each of my sponges had tattooed with ink pens portraits, which were reminiscent of a child's scrawlings, of their mothers on their foreheads. I was shocked.
This was when they began sacrificing children. The sponges would submerge them in giant vats of boiling water, heated over burning boxes of Mountain Dew and piles of ground beef. They danced in circles, and all of my cries to stop and listen to me went in vain as their chanting grew louder and their dancing more frenzied. When a demon—this hulking monstrosity that I can only describe in relation to other words, like horrifying or anti-divine—emerged from the floor, with a torrent of muddy water, and consumed them all, I tasted not a morsel of surprise or remorse; I simply accepted that self-governance, when not governed by myself, was destined to fail. And so, several hours later, after the LSD, ketamine, and PCP wore off, I walked from the house, down the sidewalk, to the local University, where I attended political science courses. And after achieving a bachelor's degree, through several years of eating nothing but Taco Bell, drinking nothing but Baja Blast, I got a J.D. too. Then I worked for several years at a firm, building contacts, schmoozing with my mother's friends and colleagues, before finally becoming a senator. I promptly drafted stronger drug laws. It was the only rational solution I could distill. | 2017-08-19T08:42:03 | 2017-08-19T06:21:37 | 72 | 34 |
[WP] You are a hero in service of Death itself. As counterintuitive as this may seem, it is not what it looks like. It's just that villains tend to kill people before their time and Death really hates people messing up fate. | “It’s not really counterintuitive.”
“Of course it is! You can’t be a hero and work for DEATH!”
“You’re making Death sound like a bad guy.”
“Yeah, no fucking shit he’s a bad guy. He’s fucking Death! Ended of lives. Reaper of souls or whatever. Jesus Christ, don’t roll your eyes at me.”
“You sound like a child.”
“And YOU sound like a psychopath.”
“You do know Death and Life are the same thing, right?”
“Oh, don’t start this bull shit again. Fuck me, I need another drink. You want another round?”
“When have I ever turned down a free drink?”
“Wait, I’m paying? Aren’t you the one with the job, here?”
“It’s not like I get paid in cash. I’m not an assassin. I get paid in good fate.”
“And as fate would have I’m here to buy your drinks, is that it?”
“Aww, look at you catching on.”
“Yeah, yeah, you think you’re such hot shit because you’re immortal.”
“Seriously, why are you so obsessed with that word? I’m not immortal. Immortality doesn’t exist. All things end and begin a new. We, from the dirt to the tree to the human to the psychopomp, to the liminal deity to the reigning goddess herself, we all are impermanent. We end, our end birthing something new with in turn ends and births something else. Destruction and resurrection are the same thing.”
“Says the woman who’s two thousand years old.”
“Which is quite young, I might add.”
“Fuck it. This is hurting my brain. Ok, Lady Hero, go kill a few more people to make Death happy. As if that makes any sense at all.”
“Don’t blame me because Death is terrified of pissing off Fate.”
“Wait, what?”
“And the paperwork. She really, really hates the paperwork.”
“Deaths…afraid of something? And is a woman?”
“Hmm? Oh, of course. Why wouldn’t she be? Plus, every one is afraid of something. It’s not like death is the worse thing that can happen, right!”
“What? No—come on, stop laughing. What can possibly be worth than death? Don’t just SHRUG at me! I’m being serious!”
“You’re always so serious. Fine. Fate. Fate is more terrifying than death. I mean, death is just and ending. But like I said before, an ending is really just a new beginning. Goddess, this drink is good. What is this?”
“Moscow Mule. Ok, AND?”
“Right. So while death is scary in that it’s unknown, it’s just another chapter in the book. But Fate?”
“What? What fate? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Fate gets to decide what your in-betweens are.”
“The fuck what now?”
“The, ok, in-betweens isn’t exactly the technical term. In fact, I don’t think there IS a technical term. Well, shit, maybe I should make it one!”
“Focus, please.”
“Oh, right. In-betweens. So like the space between creation and destruction, in all its iterations and cycles, Fate gets to decide how those go. So if you piss off Fate—“
“…you get a really shitty life.”
“And death. And after life. And new life.”
“Be honest with me. Did I piss off Fate?”
“What, you? What’s so shitty about your life?”
“Have you TRIED to live in this economy with a Masters Degree in a field where you barely get above minimum wage?”
“I think that’s poor decision making skills. Not bad Fate.”
“God, why couldn’t I have just been born in Europe.”
“Ah, see that! That’s bad Fate. Well, not really. Just not great good Fate. Don’t feel bad, it happens to the best of us. It’ll all level out, sooner or later. In one of your lives.”
“Yay.”
“Don’t sound so depressed! A man just walked in who’s leaving town for two weeks and he’s leaving the keys to his penthouse on that table right there by the door. He also doesn’t check his credit cards. Ever. Which his penthouse is linked to.”
“How did you…”
“I told you. Paid in good Fate. Now, are you coming with me to enjoy two weeks of free-pretty-much-everything-you-can-think-of or are you going to sulk for three days like the last time I killed a bunch of people.”
“Shit, you don’t have to tell me twice. Fuck those guys. They probably were really bad people.”
“They were.”
“So you say.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Honestly, I’m pretty sure you’re just a very charming schizophrenic serial killer.”
“And yet you come with me anyway.”
“Meh. I had to cancel my Hulu and Netflix. I’ve risked death for less.”
“And that is why you have the Good Fate of knowing me.”
“Sure, sure. You think there’s a car key on this key ring?”
“There always is.” | Hissing and boiling noises arose from a cavern deep below the earth. One would think that it was the sound of boiling magma yet it was only Death who read another scroll of the Dead Arrival, killed by another whom did it purely for pleasure. Standing in front of him, seeing that skeletal, almost phantasmal face, writh in anger never made me any less nervous as I approached him.
"Um...excuse me," I stammered, unsure how I got here. All I know was my last memory was pain. "I may be in the wrong place."
"You sure as hell are!" the creature roared. "Another one of you mortals coming to my Realm before my daughter pinned your Day. How many does that make? I've lost count after that lass massacre that sent me all those souls to my doorstep."
Backing away, I was afraid to anger him any more. Slowly, he stood up from his throne, holding out his hand to me. "I must apologize for my outburst, child, for it makes me furious when the rest of you decide when your time is up. I know not which is worse, when those of you take it or those that take each others. Of the two, I prefer the singular sacrifice for at least the Almighty has a chance to make you regret your choice even if it is in vain
"Come forth, speak your name and I shall walk with you to your resting place. Be it Heaven, Hell, or Neither, your belief is the correct one."
I took a small step forward, "Does that mean, because I believed in reincarnation, that I will be?"
"After a short time to cleanse and prepare the soul, yes if that is your wish."
"What about those who believe in Heaven and Hell and did evil trying to get into Heaven?"
A ghastly chuckle began to echo off the walls. Windchimes of bone as Death declared, "Those who were born and bred a Lie shall find that the Truth is far more disturbing than your books make it to be."
"Is there a God, then"
"Depends on the definition."
Thinking it over, I decide it might not be the best time to have a philosophical argument with someone who might be as old as time itself. Taking a deep breath, I squaked out my name.
Gliding back to his throne, he began to search around. "A familiar name...where did I put that Dead Scroll?"
Moments passed, I began to feel a little less wary seeing this giant of a skeleton-ghoul digging around his lair like a child that lost his toy. In the end, he finally held up a silvered parchement paper neatly tied with a golden ribbon.
"Once a century or so do I find a Soul to help me with caring for the Lost. I have read your accomplishments and deeds, believing you to be one worth....employing." He said that with a gargling hiss, making my spine tingle. I don't think I could have taking a life.
As if reading my thoughts, "You are not going to be taking my sole Purpose, no. You will simply be guiding them down the road. Until you have proven yourself of have been here a few millenium then shall I pass my Scythe to you just as the Reaper before has done and so on to the Beginning of Days."
Taking a breath, I stood there in shock. Memories of my life feel hazy and I don't even know how I died. With as careful of a gesture he could do, Death handed me my own Dead Arrival.
"You men believe in having Free Will despite me saying when you Die, just look at yourself and then decide if you wish to join me."
Opening it with as much care, I read what was written in the beautiful script I've ever seen.
Born: 31 October, 1990
~~Time of Fate: 14 July, 2075~~
Actual Time: 17 August 2017
Death sneered, "Killed by an iron horse in the dead of Night by a woman who finds joy in running random people strolling about for the sake of pure release. It would be somewhat nice if mortals could finish their Sentence instead of choosing their way out.
Thinking it over, I can't imagine what it might be like for this...thing...to endure having hundreds or even thousands of people coming into his chambers wondering why they're here. Whatever it was, it definitely looked tired and I can't imagine what this daugher of it might be going through.
"I'll do it,"I finally said after several long, cold minutes of waiting.
"Good. I had a feeling you would. Come, we must prepare your papers."
"Will I ever go home?"
"You are now..." | 2022-08-08T19:52:48 | 2022-08-08T19:38:21 | 17 | 11 |
[WP]: A 92-year-old woman's phone number is one digit away from that of a local suicide hotline. She could have it changed, but she doesn't mind. | Kate reached for the handset, ringing once again at 2 in the morning. At the ripe age of 92, Kate did not have anyone in her life that would have reason to call her, let alone at this ungodly hour.
At this ungodly hour. Ha. Ironic, given that this span of time, this brief period between midnight and the first light of dawn, consists of the the godliest hours of her day. Every few nights, without fail, Kate would be a deity over one person, one sad, broken person. Her words, her stories, perhaps even the simple tone of her voice, would sway the caller one way or another - towards life and many more stories of their own, or to despair, desolation and then death. Death, absolute.
During the day, she was just sad Kate Bluthe, obsessive bingo player, fan of Antiques Roadshow, and the loneliest person at Shady Pines Retirement Home. But any given night, someone would call, and Kate would always begin the same way.
"What's your name, young man? Full name, please." she always asked first. They'd give her some name, she'd ask them why they were calling, and the conversation would always proceed to some sob story, usually over nothing, sometimes over something. Then, she'd proceed to tell them some story about her youth, some regret she had, perhaps, or some period in her life where a situation just like theirs applied.
They'd be moved to tears. She'd be crying too. They'd cry together, emotions flooding through the caller as Kate savored the brief period of pure anticipation before the best part of the call.
"Kill yourself, you worthless piece of shit," she would abruptly snarl over their sobs. "Just kill yourself, you hopeless, worthless, ugly sack of shit."
A few days later, she would browse through the obituaries of every paper in the city, she'd find the name of her latest victim, clip out the piece, and a smile would slowly split her face. "Bingo," she'd whisper as she stamped her memento with a blood red mark. "Bingo." | Ring, ring
It was 3 am on a Tuesday, and Dorothy didn't know who was calling, but she knew why they were calling.
"Hello?" A man on the other end of end line timidly asked
"Hello deary, how can I help you?" Dorothy said warmly in a way only a 93 year old grandmother could
"I need help...I ... ı"
Dorothy didn't have to listen, she had heard it all a thousand times before, ever since the suicide hotline's number became a diget off of hers she got these wrong numbers all the time.
"Honey" Dorothy interrupted about half way through the man's story, "honey, what number did you dial?"
"1-800-got-help?"
"468-4357?"
"I think so?"
"Oh my, I don't think you did" she said assuringly, "My number is 468-4453. This is the 1-800-HOT-GILF the dirty old lady talk dirty to me hotline. Give me your credit card number and I'll make you forget about all your problems"
Dorothy heard a gun shot, and then a dial tone.
She hung up the phone and went back to knitting the cock sock she had been working on all evening. She stared into the fire as she rocked in her chair and thought to her self, pussy ass bitch couldn't handle non of this lovin no how. It's aiyeet though somebody else gonna call and pay for my fine ass, then I can go out and get some more rocks to smoke.
THE END
| 2016-02-06T18:21:21 | 2016-02-06T17:14:53 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] Cannibalism has been widely accepted for over 20 years. A renowned chef before dinner service checks tonights product. In the caging area he sees his activist sister. | She saw him look in. Immediately she started shouting or screaming; noise and agitation anyway, the gag made it all quite incomprehensible.
This was awkward. Why her? Why here? He ducked out and closed the door, pondering his next move. Twenty years her ridiculous idealist activism had achieved nothing. Nothing. Except turning her against him.
The assistants unlocked her cage and paraded her through the dining room in front of the guests, towards the kitchens.
Twenty years he'd put up with her hatred, her public vitriol, slander and defamation aimed right at him. Who had she ever helped? What did she really know about cannibal-chefs? Had she ever even *been* in a kitchen? He sharpened the cleaver and chef's knives.
'Tastes like pork', the saying was. The kitchen door opened and she was dragged in. They locked eyes and she pulled to a stop and held his gaze, the noise of the room fell away, for a moment, but then assistants forced her forward.
He stood, watching her, body motionless, only his head turned to follow as they encouraged her on towards the door with the sign 'Slaughterhouse' above it. They broke eye contact as she left the room. That would be the last time he ever saw her alive.
He unfroze with a shudder, and walked to the workbench. He could hear sounds from outside. Twenty years of listening to sounds like that, it still wasn't comfortable. His sister. He raised the cleaver, and slammed it down in a wash of frustration and anger. The sound of a van driving away. Bits of the pig corpse on the workbench took the force of the cleaver blow and splattered up onto the wall. He would never see her again.
Maybe now she would know what he could never risk saying, know how false her accusations were, know the risks he was taking, the deceit his team were illegally pulling every single day. Know that if you want to save lives, you have to *get your hands dirty*. Twenty years of activism, how many people had *she* saved?
Tastes like pork, indeed. Must be a coincidence. | His heart turned to ice. His head went faint and his stomach twisted into a ever tighter knot.
"no" he thought, "no, no, no, NO".
Why her? Of all the people out there? Why not a drug addict? A criminal? Any worthless dreg of society?
"Sir? Are you alright?" asked his assistant.
He had to get it together. He would lose his job otherwise, or worse. He had heard of people who refused to... well, who couldn't do it.
"Quite fine, I just thought of something I forgot at home"
"Shall I begin the preparations?"
"Yes, please"
He would have to do it.
The minutes passed slowly, painfully like time was purposely tormenting him. He found himself with his assistants at the cutting block. They would cut the neck and collect the blood for sausage, and the butcher the body.
As if everything was happening like some macabre play, he watched out. He wasn't there. He watched himself picked up the knife as she was brought forward like it was dream. She was laid down and strapped to the block, drugged to avoid too much struggle. She looked up. His fist brandished the knife and raised it high. Tears streamming in her eyes.
Time seemed to pause. Each second an eternity of inaction. Then the silence was broken when she spoke:
"Remember me, brother. Remember my life. Remember what I fought for"
His vision went black, he heard the knife swoosh and a women's scream.
Then he lost consciousness.
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PS my first response on here.
| 2014-09-18T19:47:40 | 2014-09-18T18:39:41 | 859 | 73 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | “Crap,” I think, “there goes that idea.”
“How do you plead?” The judge asks.
“How can I plead anything beside what you have already decided for me?” I retort. The venom won’t help me here but I can’t help it, I’m angry. Anyone in my situation would be.
I’ve spent a lifetime building my political career. They say that honesty never gets you anywhere in politics but I never believed them. I always stuck to my principles. Apparently *they* were right. In a series of unfortunate events I found myself out of favor with my superiors and falling into the bad graces of my political rivals. I thought their disdain and political efforts would be the farthest they would go to harm my career but it wasn’t my career they were after.
A wielder appeared out of thin air and killed my wife as we both slept. He vanished and was somehow able to make the magic residue of his transference look like it came from me, and not as a transfer spell either but a death chant. How he did it, I’ll never know. I’ve never wielded before in my life. I didn’t even know you could mimic one’s aura’s afterglow.
“Very well then,” the judge says pulling me out of my rumination. “We find you guilty of murder and 9th degree unlicensed use of deadly magic. You are sentenced to death. Considering your claim to innocence and your considerable record before this incident, we grant you the right to pick the death of your choosing.”
“Great comfort there.” I mutter under my breath. I have to think fast. I want justice and this isn’t it.
“I wish to die by…” I have to get out of this somehow. “By…” I’m stalling and the judge knows it. His patience won’t last forever. I need time.
“I wish to be bound as death’s apprentice!” I quickly shout as I see the judge about to bring down the gavel. There’s a sudden burst of murmurings. One person asks, “can he do that?” “This is highly unusual,” another voice calls out.
“Do you know what you’re asking?” The judge asks. To my surprise there is a real look of concern in his face.
“Probably not.” I admit. But it’s my only chance to give he judge my death while also possibly getting justice.
“You are asking for an eternity of living death. It would be a living torment. Are you sure you want this?”
“I want justice.” I seethe. “It has been denied me. The only family I have is gone, my career has been sabotaged, and the real perpetrator has evaded justice somehow.”
There’s a glimmer of uncertainty in the judges eyes. He believes me to be guilty but my request has him second guessing if only for a moment.
“Very well.” The judge finally states after a long pause. “I grant you your request.”
The gavel falls and the change is immediate. The room fades from existence and the world goes dark and hazy. A hooded figure approaches me, reaches out a bony finger and touches me on the forehead.
“Welcome” it says in a hissing long breath. “Thou hast come to be as I have always ordained thee to become.”
There’s a gray flash that sparks on the point of contact between our two bodies and immediately I am dead. My flesh falls away and I’m robed in a shroud.
“I name thee Hades” Death says. “Deliver justice as thou has sworn. Take vengeance upon thine enemies. Bring all that liveth by evil unto Death.” | I take a step forward. The line to the High Magister grows shorter by the moment as the people befor me are tried and executed on the spot befor the Grand Court of Wizards.
The reading of crimes is honestly the longest part, the crimes are listed for each of us and given a unanimous guilty verdict on the spot.
Cant say I blame then really, the coup didnt go quite as planned.
I'd love to say I was the mastermind behind everything but truth be told I'm little more then another cog in machine of revolution, one that broke quite handily when our silver tongued leader mysteriously vanished.
We just wanted non-magic folk to be taken more seriously, to be treated like actual citizens.
I take another step forward. I shake my head of the thoughts, pointless to think about it with more impending matters. Third in line now. I watch Andrew take centre floor. He used to be a cook befor getting caught up in this mess, cant say we spoke much but still a shame just the same.
The High Magister repeats the same phrase that everyone befor him heard last. "Choose your method of execution". There is a moments pause befor the old cook smugly replies "Old age". Cheeky sod read the same story I did.
With a wave of his hands the Wizard casts a spell and to my horror I see Andrew rapidly ageing till he is little more then a dead emaciated old man. "Bugger, there goes that idea" I mutter to myself.
"Next" The high Magister proclaims, waving his hand dismissively as a pile of dust blows away that used to be Andrew. I didnt know the woman in front of me but she looked like she had been through the ringer.
I take the time to think, my brain working as hard as it can to think of something, anything at all.
"Choose your method of execution" I snap from my thoughts and look up to see what she picks, maybe it will help. "Without regrets" she replies, little vague and not really a method but hey the Court seems to accept it. There is a quick flash of light, I turn away instinctively and blink away the sunspots left behind.
When I look back she is just stood there, not moving an inch. "Next." But... she is still alive? I walk to the centre and my crimes are listed off, I dont pay attention, I know what I did. I get a good look at her and wish I hadn't, her eyes, her face, her expression. They lobotomised her. The body might be there but there is nothing left inside.
I clench my fists tight, I'm angry but not at my situation. I'm angry that they seem to revel in punishing people who they think are trying to be clever.
"Choose your method of execution"
Well that was fast. I relax, no point in fighting it after all. I look up to The High Magister and smile, my body trembling but my mind set. I know how to beat this.
I open my mouth and give the one response I can think of that will work.
"Instant"
A small wave of the hand. I dont even get to hear the "Next" | 2021-06-24T10:25:27 | 2021-06-24T10:08:14 | 432 | 255 |
[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!" | It started slowly. Smudged and even shattered glasses and plates, uncleaned linens, and general neglected duties; Vrarren chalked their discordance up to mistakes or accidents. But his theory was quickly thrown out of the window when he walked into the restaurant’s kitchen during a dinner rush to find a chef spitting into a dish.
Vrarren didn’t understand why they were upset. He had given them everything that he could afford. Sure it wasn’t the best stuff, but they were only humans. And the trader told him that humans were very adaptable, so why weren’t they “adapting” to their new job. He couldn’t think of a single reason for why they refused to cooperate.
As the months passed, the humans became even more uncooperative. Doing an apathetic job if they even chose to do it in the first place. The amount of guests severely dwindled and the bills piled up. Vrarren heard whispers among the humans about what would happen to them when the resort went out of business. They talked about it as if they were almost hopeful.
Seething with anger, he had thought he did all he could for the humans. They hated him, they hated their work. Nothing turned out the way he hoped it would. He knew this, he was told by everyone not to trust them. That they were hard to work with. But he got a great deal and that was difficult to pass up.
As the days went by, the humans rebelled more and more. It felt as if they were doing this to spite him. They wanted to see him go out of business, they must have. He could no longer afford them or the site itself. He could’ve left them to rot on the resort instead, but he wanted to be the better being. With the last of his finances, he arranged a spaceship to send them away.
When it touched down, he lead the 500 onto the loading dock, telling them that it would take them wherever they wanted to go. He turned back towards the bankrupted and abandoned resort and started walking, smiling to himself as he heard the ship take off back to the trader’s location.
________________________
First time ever writing a story, always wanted to. It was incredibly fun! Feedback and criticism appreciated, I really want to improve! | 2019-01-26T12:06:25 | 2019-01-26T12:01:27 | 48 | 10 |
[WP] "Apologies, human. Unfortunately, you were accidentally killed by a glactic federation officer during an altercation on your planet. Currently we are constructing you a replacement body, and in return for your ensured silence on our existence, I wanted to ask if you wanted anything... changed." | Ben awoke on a table, finding that he could not move, just when he was about to scream a figure hovered above him.
He could hear a voice through the ringing in his ears, “We don’t usually do this,” it said.
“Where—” Ben coughed.
Ben tried to focus his eyes, the shape of whoever was speaking to him varied from a slender shadow to a wide blob, the light made it impossible to see anything clearly.
“You died. Well, we killed you, but we didn’t mean to. Anyways, we decided to re-plant your consciousness into a new body, as recompense. Would you like to have anything,” the voice said, drawing out the last word, “altered? I know how fixated you humans can be on cosmetics.”
Ben’s eyes widened, which made him immediately squint harder from the bright light.
“I can change… anything?” Ben finally asked.
“We can restructure anything from your nose to your genetics, your brain. Anything within human limitations, basically. And before you ask, yes, we can make you look good in tights, but no, we can’t give you flying capabilities or eyes that shoot laser. Human.”
Ben started to slowly see his surroundings, he was in a room that resembled an operating room. Everything seemed to have a splash of grey or white, he could now see that the voice belonged to a blue humanoid who, although standing, struggled to look him in the eye from his meagre height. The man, presumably, resembled a mix between a human and a pug, Ben thought.
“Can you fix my brain?” Ben asked tentatively.
The pug-creature frowned, “You showed no signs of decreased brain function before we, eh, vaporized you. Do you mean you want increased intelligence?”
Ben suddenly found it hard to rest his eyes on the odd fellow, “I don’t think that would help, please,”
“We can’t *fix* something that isn’t broken, please describe your issue.”
Ben opened his mouth several times without any sound escaping, “It’s like when you know you’re viewing a beautiful landscape, but no matter the angle, it’s flat, two-dimensional.”
The alien tried to fill in the blanks, “It’s starting to sound like you want better eye-sight, which is of course, no problem.”
“No, that’s not it,” Ben quickly replied, “It’s like when you listen to a perfect composition, an orchestra, but nothing within you stirs!”
“Your hearing, then…?”
“You don’t understand,” Ben snapped, “I felt nothing!”
“We can make doubly sure your nerve-endings are working before we send you back,” The strange humanoid said, slightly flustered.
Ben violently expelled as much air as his weak body could manage, “I want to be happy!”
The pair was silent for not an insignificant amount of time, “Happy,” the alien mumbled, “that’s a bit trickier.”
“You said you could alter the brain, damn it, alter it!”
“We can balance the chemicals in your brain. At least, we can start it off that way. To stay in this balanced state is largely up to you, however. To avoid suffering completely, if that’s what you ultimately seek, is impossible.”
Ben could feel a familiar numbness slowly slither around his soul, “Make me perfectly balanced then, or let me fade away.”
*****
Thank you for reading! | "Apologies, human. Unfortunately, you were accidentally killed by a glactic federation officer during an altercation on your planet. Currently we are constructing you a replacement body, and in return for your ensured silence on our existence, I wanted to ask if you wanted anything... changed."
Those words rolled across my mind as I sat there reeling.
Well sat wasn't quite the right word was it? I wasn't in a physical plane. My mind was functioning so clearly.
They said you only have access to 10% of your mind but science says that that's a myth. Well it's actually somewhere in between.
You have access to everything but it seems the hardware of our brains leaves us without the ability to fully use the magnificent computer we all our brains.
I am able to accurately remember every moment of my life. See solutions to every problem I could even think of.
"I want the brain of the new body to have true eidetic memory. I want to be able to clearly remember every second of my life, and every thing I've ever read, seen or heard." I said. Well, I expressed in the way that you do here.
"Granted" I heard in my mind, and then a rush.
Opening my eyes I looked around me. People were standing around me. Sitting up I could see why.
Apparently I had been cleaning windows on this high rise and had just fallen 4 stories on to pavement without a scratch.
Standing up I brushed myself off and waved off the people that were worried.
I had so many things I needed to do. I needed to call Brenda. Wait.
In a rush a bunch of small memories and half seen text messages flooded into my mind. Brenda was cheating on me. Well, "me" because this me was a stranger to Brenda.
I had thought I would go and let her know everything. I could convince her and we could carry on in marital bliss, but now I realized the folly.
In fact she had been cheating on me for most of our relationship.
I turned a blind eye to that and the fact that she only married me for my family money. She was way out of my league.
To be fair I'd been a piss poor husband, but I realized I could do without her continued companionship.
Pulling out "my" wallet I saw my name was Javier Ramon. I was 28 years old, 3 inches shorter than I'd been, and apparently I was a member of the AAA autoclub.
A man rushed over, judging by his dress, and the look on his face he was Javier's, no my boss. He began speaking to me in Spanish. I don't really speak Spanish.
Yet I understood, as every movie scene, conversations I'd overheard with context clues, and the two Spanish text books I'd halfway read in school came flooding back to me.
He was worried about me and sent me home.
I don't want to go home though. I have things to do. | 2019-10-28T11:41:31 | 2019-10-28T10:44:31 | 189 | 138 |
[WP] You have a special ability: you live two lives. Whenever you go to sleep at night, your "dream" will be about your other life. Both lives you live are equally realistic and soon, you start to realize both lives actually take place in the same world, but centuries apart.
[WP] You have a special ability: you live two lives. Whenever you go to sleep at night, your "dream" will be about your other life. Both lives you live are equally realistic and soon, you start to realize both lives actually take place in the same world, but centuries apart. | Ever since I have realized that both of my lives take place in the same world - I have decided to become god. I have made it a habit to write journals, and keep them in a safe and secure place. That way, whenever I am in my future life, I can get my journals from the past, and read what will happen during the rest of my past life. Every time I lived my past life, I made adjustments based on what I've read, and that changed the text in my journals.
Given my ability to see my future in such extreme detail, plus my knowledge of the 21st century technology, it wasn't that hard to control a 3rd of the world by the time I was 25 years old.
Once I became a king, my goal was to rapidly advance technological progress, to create utopia for my future self. Since I could see the long term outcome of my every decision, I could steer the world in the right direction, and avoid all the major catastrophes and wars.
I was starting research projects in the 15th century, and my descendants worked on them for centuries, then, in 21st century I've just read the results, and quickly sent them back to my past self, thus eliminating the need for the project in the first place, and immediately getting answers to any question that I wanted. Any task that could be solved by the most powerful person in the world and his descendants in 6 centuries was solved by me in a day.
It took me 3 months to cure all the diseases, and extend the lifespan of a person to 400 years. Meanwhile, in the 21st century I was waking up every day in a dramatically changed and rapidly advancing world, because all the existing technologies were replicated by my past self, and then 6 centuries of technological progress were added on top of them.
Soon enough, I've managed to prolong my lifespan up to 800 years. The 15th century version of me was the empreror of the colonized sector of our galaxy, and 21th century of myself officially worked as his replacement.
Now my main goal was not to go crazy given the ridiculous amount of paradoxes this situation has introduced, while, as a side project, I was colonizing space, curing death, and developing the all-powerful AI that would help me to upload my consciousness into the computer. | **I am** King strong and dapper /
I am a pauper poor but proper /
At night nightmares I face /
At night I look for my riches /
And find naught but holes in my breeches /
At night I search for the faces of me and mine /
And not my beloved I find, but great halls prime /
I wake all but forgotten the nightmares of yore /
I begin to remember in the monotonous bore /
I was loved, I was a King /
I was stoic and gloved, happy and beloved /
I missed the clang of gold, my humble abode /
**Then I** recall in my mind's eye while I dine /
The great castle of mine /
That in my dreams its disillusioned /
The castle lays there ruined /
This is a sign from God /
The common folk and lords alike I must prod /
Then and only then will this land remain /
The Gods have revealed to me my future bane /
This fist will henceforth be shaped by iron /
They will hate me but I will save us from the pyre /
They call me Sire /
**I am** quick to forget the night's dreams /
I have to work and raise these beams /
I do remember the smell although /
I remember being on a raised plateau /
I still see; if I try, jewels and halls /
I still see; if I try, gold and balls /
I see the ol' castle beyond the hill /
I still feel the thrill /
I still feel the loneliness /
I had no one to caress /
I had the world in my hands /
I saw, seen, all my lands /
I see someone call me closer /
I hear him say, 'clocks running daydreaming is over' /
I hear him call me Drover /
(Sorry if I made some mistakes, English is my third language, and I made an attempt here at a shitty poem) | 2022-05-27T22:26:32 | 2015-07-28T12:40:34 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires. | You know it's a good one when they're stopping runs every 10 minutes to remove the body parts they'd missed.
It's been a fact of life for as long as history has been documented that humans can extend their lifespans by nearly dying. The major world religions are all based around the concept that their god was responsible for it. It's credited as the basis for the Jesus myth - almost dying on the cross and recovering in 5 days is accepted in theological circles as an early metaphor for Breaking.
The rules as we have grown to understand them are simple: Nearly die, gain 5 years of life. Technically, it's under by 62 days, but we humans love to fudge the numbers.
I've made it to 146 years old. I get interviewed by joirnalists from time to time, mainly because they want to get their name on the final interview with the oldest man to ever live.
The average human will live to be about 80 years old. My closest peers tend to die out around 125 years. There was a cancer survivor who made it to 135 due to a flurry of very dicey days during his treatment. The vast majority of people need to engage in a high risk activity at least once every 5 years to extend their lives. When 'high risk' equates to a less than five percent chance of survival, your luck tends to run out pretty quickly.
Today, I'm looking at the latest Zeitgeist. Once the Breaking was fairly well understood, governments started building these obstacle courses in every major city. Citizens could then book a run, say goodbye to their loved ones, and try to win an extra five years of breathing.
The Zeit was 5 obstacles in a row. Each individual section had multiple ways to die. Axes, woodchippers, underwater sections, this one was a little more elaborate than the average Zeit. Make it through all that and you were guaranteed to feel your limit Break. I watched them remove an arm from the pit below the pneumatic press and contemplated my situation.
About 6 months were left on my limit. I needed to experience a very close shave to Break it again.
The problem was that I'd just completed the damned thing and my limit didn't change.
I've gotten too freaking good at surviving.
I sat down in the Broken section, screened off from the crowds, and pondered my situation.
For the average runner, a Zeit has a 1% survival rate. They make it to the end, boom, they hear their limit Break.
My odds seem to have shifted during my 96 years of training and running these courses. Enough so that my limit didn't see it as near death. My limit must have thought this was just another Tuesday.
It felt good to have completed the run, though. My muscles were aching, I was tired beyond belief, and I did not react fast enough when my chair broke.
I toppled backwards, landing heavily on my back, and felt my limit Break. I lay still, looking at the dreary sky, listening to the next runner getting minced or barbecued or something. I slowly turned my head to the left. Very pointy spike of metal sticking into the air. Turned to the right. A live blasting cap right infront of my eye. I'd fallen backwards onto the spare parts pile for the Zeitgeist, an assortment of the deadliest unused devices the engineers could think of. And I survived! | Death takes us all. Eventually. Sometimes more than once.
See. The thing about anything “life threatening”, is that it’s traumatic. The mind and body are damaged to an extent. This all depends on the situation. Recovery from this trauma can be quick, or it can be never. Only the trauma is guaranteed.
So the first time I almost died, a little piece of me managed to.
The taxi was a masterpiece. Paid some idiot twice his usual fare to be at a certain place, at a certain time, on a certain day.
Simple as that.
I was there ten minutes early, and managed to get in a very violent altercation with the local homeless man normally occupying the near-by bus stop.
And what would you know, he decided to push me in front of the on-coming taxi.
The taxi already slowing down to stop.
Hit my head on the hood pretty hard, but I was fine.
The taxi driver wasn’t. He was livid. You can get a pretty penny for helping someone almost die.
Sucker.
The next time was easier.
And so was the next.
Back alleyways are a good bet. So is being an asshole. Used to have a guy that I worked with. He’d make sure the beatings stopped at *almost dead.* Every now and then we’d trade off. Until one day he went out by himself.
Got attacked by a bear.
I know, right?
Did a little time in the service. As they say, patriotism is its own reward.
Cheap bastards.
Yet, here I am. Once again, at the end of my rope, looking for my next fix. But what can I do?
Aging is slow, but not that slow. I can’t take an ass whooping like I used to.
Im too old for the service. I already got a solid decade or two off of cancer, and the doc says the next one *will* kill me.
So what to do? Kind of difficult picking a cushy way to almost die. The two are often mutually exclusive.
All the old friends finally bought the real bullet, and if I’m being honest, finding new suckers to scam is a bit stressful, and I already milked that for all it’s worth. Flatlined on the table off of that one.
So what can I do?
Wait.
Lightbulb.
Hey, Sharon? Yeah, it’s me. Yeah, I missed you too.
What?
No! Of course, I’m not mad about the house anymore. And since you admitted to it, the insurance covered everything anyway. Yeah! Got a whole new couch. Fireproof and everything.
But anyway, I was wondering. You wouldn’t happen to be free for lunch tomorrow would you?
I was up late doing some thinking, and I realized something.
It’s been a while. | 2020-03-15T03:43:13 | 2020-03-15T02:28:32 | 377 | 25 |
[WP] There is a woman who is a human 'Phoenix'. She dies in labour and is reborn as her own child. | The doctor's words hit me with an almost physical impact. I feel like I'm sinking into the stiff examination table, my hospital gown suddenly as heavy as a sheet of lead. "No. No, that can't be right."
"I know it's shocking, but I can assure you that it's true," the doctor says, turning the ultrasound monitor to face me. It's not the first time I've had an ultrasound, so I know how to recognize the shapes. And there's no way to deny that there are two distinct shapes etched in the blurry black and white. "You're expecting twins. Congratulations."
I stare at the monitor, feeling my pulse pound. Twins. I've never had twins before. Not in all of my lives. I feel myself falling off the familiar path I've walked for so long, and into unknown territory.
Twins. Oh god.
----
This time, my name is Louise. I am forty-seven years old, and also seven hundred thirty two years old. I am a simple woman with a simple lifestyle, keeping to myself in a house I inherited from myself, who inherited from myself before her and myself before her. Confused yet?
I was first born, completely normally, in France during the reign of King Philip the III. When I was sixteen, I had a bit of a roll in the hay with a soldier who had sworn to take me as his wife. I, being young and naive, had believed him. Nine months later, I died in childbirth, and gave birth to myself.
As can be imagined, I was confused beyond belief.
Despite lifetimes of research, I've never been able to discover how or why I am able to resurrect in such a strange manner. I quickly discovered the 'rules', as they were. I only ever gave birth to daughters. My 'soul', it could be said, always transfers at the moment the umbilical cord is cut. At the same moment, the me who is the mother dies, and I spend an annoyingly long period with an adult mind in an infant body. A body with undeveloped muscles, and little to no bowel control. 'Irritating' doesn't even begin to describe it.
And so, I've passed through the centuries like this. Mother to daughter, mother to daughter, on and on, living dozens of lives and thinking I had it all figured out.
And now, this. Twins. I've never *had* twins before.
---
Check out my [blog](http://theballadsofirving.com/), or my brand-new subreddit, /r/theballadsofirving! | The cardiac monitor rings in flatline. A team of nurses rush into the delivery room with a defibrillator.
“Clear,” the obstetrician gives the go signal. *Shock.* The woman’s body on the hospital bed lifts up—like a phoenix—yet sinks back down. The cardiac monitor shows no changes. The team does a few more rounds of shocks on the woman’s chest. Each time yields no good result.
“Time of death 7:34,” says the obstetrician. “Now let’s see if we can save the baby. Find a open OR and schedule an emergency C-section stat.”
They wheel her straight out the room, down the hallway towards the operation rooms. The obstetrician pages other surgeons and scrub nurses to get to OR immediately.
Once inside the OR, the surgeons do their pre-surgical rinses while scrubs nurses ready the tools for surgery. The surgeons really sped up the C-section process now that the mother was no longer a concern. The had to get to the baby before the baby asphyxiates now that the mother is no longer providing any more oxygen to it. Layers of rosy red flesh and yellow fat can be seen under the skin. Then comes the thick layers of scarlet muscles and finally the smooth uterus. *Slice.* The surgeon made a large enough incision to reach in for the baby. With one heaving motion, the surgeon lifts out a beautiful baby while the nurses cut the cord and take care of the placenta.
The baby has yet to open her eyes and looks peacefully asleep. The surgeon hands the baby to the nurse who then proceeds to wake the baby up with a few pats on the buttocks. The baby starts to stir and then wails rather beautifully. The sound echoes through the OR, catching everybody’s attention. Then the sound stops—abruptly—and the baby opens her eyes. She scans the room with rather calm, knowing eyes; she focuses on the body of the woman on the operation table—*her mother or her?*
Whether the mother was reincarnated as her own baby is unknown that day, but all we know is that a great team of healthcare workers saved a baby’s life. | 2016-01-25T09:46:57 | 2016-01-25T07:24:31 | 151 | 25 |
[WP] A man wants to sell his soul to a demon but the thing he wants in return is so dubious the demon is thrown for a loop. | "Four lemons," Greg responded.
"It's done," said the demon. The response was so quick that the smoke from its appearance hadn't yet left the room.
"...and some sugar," Greg said. He stared blankly at the demon and blinked once.
The demon also blinked. A subtle mark of shock passed over its ashy face.
"Um, it's done. We're done here," it said.
"Oh alright," Greg answered. "It's just that I'm trying to make lemonade and I needed the sugar."
The demon shifted from one hoof to another. The man, who's soul it now owned, continued to stare in expectation.
"Why didn't you just ask for lemonade?" the demon asked.
"Oh, I just like the homemade stuff better," Greg said. For a man who just gave away his afterlife he appeared stupidly confident in his suburban kitchen.
"You could have just asked me for homemade lemonade," the demon said. It was smugly satisfied turning its victim down, but also annoyed that Greg was not grasping the weight of the agreement previously made.
"You probably wouldn't make it how I like it," Greg said.
The two figures continued standing in front of the oven. A tiny salt pentagram was still sprinkled in front of the burners.
"Well then. I'm going," said the demon.
"Alright," Greg replied. "Have a good day then."
"You...too." The demon slowly trotted toward his portal. Behind it the man placed his four lemons into a basket and took a seat at his kitchen table. He calmly reached for his cup of coffee.
The demon stopped. It didn't feel guilt but felt like it needed to say something.
"Maybe your neighbor has some sugar," the demon said.
"Couldn't you just give me some like you did the lemons?" Greg asked.
"I can't do free ones," the demon said.
"Oh," the man responded.
A short moment passed. The demon waited for that moment then started to turn.
"I'll trade my son for some sugar," Greg said without expression.
The demon stood hunched in his tracks. His hairy back faced Greg. "I need consent from each of..."
"And I'll trade my wife for some ice. My father for a pitcher and my dog for a clean glass," Greg said.
"Your getting a little ahead of yourself...," the demon started to say.
"And I'll give you my grandmother for a coaster," Greg was picking up the pace of his plan now. "My neighbor's baby for a wooden spoon plus another from the orphanage for a cloth napkin."
"Oh yeah," the man added, "I found a box of stray cats that I'll crush for you myself for a cocktail umbrella."
The portal swirled in front of the demon. It spoke looking away from kitchen.
"Give me back my lemons Greg," it said. "I should have checked to make sure I could collect from you before I handed them over."
| "You want whaaaaaaat?!" Fe'na was never taken for such a loop in her life. "I mean really I don't get this. Why would anyone want this?" She look at the man who sat down and negotiated business with her. "I don't think I'm asking to much. Its a win-win benefit for both of us."
The demon looked over the contract carefully reading the text again. "So you offer me 10% of your souls in exhange for the souls of your family and return of the ten percent of the soul that I have once you've gather me 10,000 souls in exhange for 10 acres of my kingdom in hell and a Dukedom." Fe'na look over the wording and saw that it was a pennies on the dollar deal for her.
"I don't get it. Why sell out your own kind? How will you even get the souls." The man smile and stood up to open his brief case, "If you look over the paper work. I've never broken a sin of the lord till now and my family is clean of sins through faith of your enemy. My work is that of a lawyer and on the side I am the Sunday school teacher for my church which puts me in prime spots for both pure and corrupt souls."
Fe'na tail wagged in excited before stopping, "I get that but why summon me and why give this up for dukedom?" He smiled and closed his case. "Simple, Ma'am. I spoke with an angel before me and heaven doesn't negotiate. If I can't save everyone then I have to look out for myself and my family."
"Its a deal." Fe'na said before writing on the contract and the man smiled. "Thank you." The man snapped his fingers and a larger demon stood behind him. "I told you I could do it, Lord Satan." He nodded and chuckled, "You win. Fe'na you lose, did you not smell the two type of ink on the sheet?" She looks at the red paper and with a more careful glance noticed that there was a stipulation that if she agreed to the deal she would offer her soul to the human. "You tricked me." Satan smiled, "More like he tricked us all. I bet 10% of hell that he couldn't trick one of my top Demoness into giving up her own soul. Enjoy being a maid you silly worm. I've got better thing to do." The man smiled as Fe'na demonic power flowed into him. | 2014-05-15T21:16:19 | 2014-05-15T18:07:44 | 252 | 68 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | "Kinda short for a knight, aren't you?"
The words hung in the air. Sir Gregory was taken aback. He was expecting the princess to be excited to see him or terrified of the dragon. Condescension was an emotion he never entertained.
"Oh Gods, you reek. No, this won't do. If you wish to rescue me *properly* I insist you go have a bath." She wrinkled her nose and took a step back, disgust on her face.
"Your Highness, this isn't the time. The dragon is still about-"
"The dragon has been here seven years. I'm sure she can wait until you're presentable. I mean *really*. How would you feel if you opened that door and found a centaur here? Because you smell like a centaur." The princess waived her hand dismissively. "The baths are down the hall to the right. I have left some mint on the vanity in case you don't want your first kiss to cause me to vomit."
Sir Gregory flustered. "I.. Uh.. Alright."
"Would you like a new suit of armor? That looks really ratty?"
"This was my grandfather's armor!"
"Looks like he inherited it too."
"That does it!" Sir Gregory took off his helm and threw it to the floor with a loud clang. "I came here through driving rain and scorching deserts! I endured countless hardships just to come here for *you*! I did this all for you. You should have the courtesy to show me some respect."
"You're some rich asshole who thinks I'll suck your dick and make you king just because you killed a, sorry, because you *intend* to kill a dragon. I didn't ask you to come here stinking of horse and threatening to kill the only friend I have had for seven years."
"You know what? I don't have to deal with this shit." Sir Gregory's voice broke as tears welled in his eyes. He picked up and put his helmet back on. "I'm a great knight. There are lots of women at court who would love to marry me." He started to leave, then turned in the doorway. "And your kingdom is shit anyway. Wench!"
"Don't let the porticulus hit your ass on the way out!"
"Arrgh!" He screamed as he stormed off muttering under his breath. "Stupid wench. Probably isn't even a virgin. I'm a nice knight. I wanted to rescue her. Doesn't that mean anything?" As promised the porticulus slams shut right behind him. The drawbridge starts to rise as he nears the end, forcing him to jump the last step.
"Gods damn it!" He curses, turning to yell back at the keep. "When you are old and ugly and alone you will look back at this day as the biggest mistake of your life!"
"At least I'm not old and ugly now!" The princess yelled down from a window.
"I'm not old I'm twenty seven!"
"I bet you still live with your parents."
"Fuck you," Sir Gregory turns and starts storming off toward a tree with a short length of rope tied to it. He turns back and yells. "Where is my horse!?"
"I don't know where your stupid horse is. Where is my dragon?"
"I didn't even see your dragon." He points at the princess. "If your dragon ate my horse you owe me a horse!"
"If my dragon got sick eating your stinking horse you owe me a dragon."
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not buying you a dragon."
"Then I'm not buying you a horse."
"Screw this. I'm going back to court and I'm telling everyone you're a dragon's wench and you'll never get rescued!"
"Have a pleasant walk," the princess called in a sing-song voice.
"Fuck you!!" | "Maybe in this castle we'll be safe," she thought to herself, "maybe we won't have to run again."
It had been so long since she had felt safe. So long since the running had started. So far they had travelled together, he had kept her safe as she fled to find another haven. So many worlds they had discovered, and fallen in love with, only to have to run again. Couldn't those heroes (ugh, what an incorrect label), just stop and take the hint. Clearly she didn't want to be rescued, she just wanted to be left alone, with her best friend, her ONLY friend, at this point, thanks to those annoying pesks.
So she began to set up house, and after a few weeks had passed, Bolthezar and Tolde arrived finally. Bolthezar looking a little worse for wear. "Don't tell me," she sighed, "unless he is dead." Bolthezar's face dropped, and he turned away. "I will set up the barricades," and he began to leave. "WAIT!" She cried, "Come, rest tonight. We can make the arrangements tomorrow."
He stopped, and came back. She led him over to the veranda, from previous experience she knew he wouldn't want to be anywhere near a fire at this point. She quickly went, and grabbed some food and drinks, and set out a table. Tolde joined as well, and they all sat in silence, a general discontent settling over the trio.
"This is a good location," Bolthezar said, after some time had passed, "it was empty?" She shook her head, of course not. Tolde clucked his displeasure, even though he too knew that this was the eighth world, the last line of defense. There was no where else to go after this. The conversation they had all been avoiding could no longer be put off.
"This hero and his brother have been relentless," she began, "I think it is time. I need to stop running." Bolthezar looked up sharply, and Tolde started, but she put up a hand. "You two have been so good to me all this time, and so faithful. But there is no other option. This ends here. We shall make the final stand tomorrow, and if he still defeats you, he will have earned his prize."
"My princess, I must say, even though this has been a very exhausting journey, I am grateful and so very blessed to have been able to travel the worlds with you, and I wouldn't trade this time for anything. And as to these pursuers, it seems that they may yet be worthy. They have defeated every challenge I have pitted against them, and have never lost hope, no matter how many times Tolde tried to turn them away. They may yet be worthy to take my place as your protector." Bolthezar shifted, as he spoke, and she could see the weariness in his movements. Yes it was time.
"Dearest Bowser," she used the name she had christened him in her youth, "I will always treasure you and my wonderful, enigmatic Toad." They all had a chuckle at her words. Then Princess Peach paused for a moment, "but how do I choose, having never met either, how will I choose between two PLUMBERS? It seems so unbelievable to be true." | 2019-01-09T11:59:29 | 2019-01-09T11:07:30 | 158 | 24 |
[WP] All space-faring species use different methods of interstellar travel. Magic, prayer, even sheer willpower. Humans were the only ones impure and insane enough to use controlled explosives. | As soon as the first reports hit the galactic web, the entire Milky Way ground to a halt.
HUMAN PROTO-CIVILIZATION REACHES NEIGHBOR PLANET
But the second half of the headline is what shook the galactic community to its core.
**ZERO CASUALTIES**
The impossible had happened, a species not even qualifying as a Class 1 Civilization had made it safely to another planet. They had no unique way to draw energy from another dimension as others did, hell they hadn't even discovered them. Less than a century ago humanity reached galactic fame when they reached their moon in nothing more than a modified missile, but the obsession soon faded when experts concluded that they had simply been lucky and further travels were impossible until they discovered their variant of dimensional channeling.
The eyes, ears, and antennae of the galaxy waited with a mix of dread and amazement while they awaited more news. Was this the dawn of a new Class 1 Civilization? How did they discover their channeling so quickly? How soon will their channeling be proven enough to introduce ourselves?
And then the reports came. Across thousands of worlds, translated into millions of languages, were the words heralding the apocalypse.
"Ladies, gentlemen, various forms of hive conciousness, and Dave, good evening. I am confused to report, and this has been confirmed by all major Intergalactic Government agencies, that they used a bigger missile."
Edit: Dave is Dave. Dave is All. Dave is Good. Dave is Dave. | "So wait, you use explosions to traverse space?"
"Uhm ... soooo ... funny story. But first we actually use controlled combustions rather than 'explosions'. It's more like very spicy fire."
The four aliens look at each other, with concern "And you don't see a problem with that? Isn't that dangerous?"
"Again, another funny story but for real this time. Once one of our so called "Space shuttles" desintegrated because a tiny part of its own heat shield broke if during launch and that killed everybody on board. So yeah, it's dangerous, but otherwise we wouldn't be here now.
Also like only 1000 people died in space or on the way to it or back, pretty good numbers if I would say so."
Silence governed the room.
Then one spoke up: "What ... w-what was the first ... uhm ... funny story you mentioned?"
"Oh, the Orion Drive. Literally throwing nukes out the back and using the explosions as a means of interstellar travel."
"Oh .. of course ... nukes. I guess that ... was a thing." | 2020-08-07T18:10:46 | 2020-08-07T17:56:13 | 705 | 191 |
[WP] Not far from your village is a small grove. Within the grove a monster dwells. It devours the guilty and leaves the innocent. When the worst crimes are committed, the accused are sent to face the creature. You have murdered someone in self-defense. You enter the grove unsure of your fate. | "Judgement!"
The voices of the villagers rose behind me. They sounded demented, their cries tinged with bloodlust. I shivered as I stepped through the trees. The light of the torches vanished behind me, and their cries softened.
Dread filled me as I stepped along the dirt path. I was sure that my actions were just. But each step caused that conviction to waver. Maybe I could've gotten away from him without killing. Could I not have restrained him and gotten help?
A twig snapped behind me. I spun around, my breath catching in my throat. It was only then I noticed how silent it was. Another snap sounded from my side, followed by another to the other. My eyes darted between each. My breath came in short bursts. I could feel my heart thunder in my chest.
The hairs on my neck rose. I could tell something was watching me. I desperately wanted to run, but found I couldn't. I was rooted to the spot. All I could do was turn, to see what was there. To try and find the Beast of Justice.
I felt something touch my hair. I tried to swat it away, bit it stuck to my hand. I waved it about before looking. It was a thick strand of web. I gagged, trying to pull it off. All I succeeded in doing was getting both hands caught in it.
It pulled taut, yanking my hands up over my head. I felt myself lift slightly off the ground, and began to panic even more. As I started to tear up, I heard a light thud behind me. I froze, before spinning.
An enormous spider stood there, eyeing me up. It's cold black gaze seemed to peer through to my very core. I knew instinctively that this was the Beast of Justice. It crawled towards me, placing its two pedipalps on my shoulders. It's voice drifted out, a faint whisper.
"Hmmmm. More prey? Or not prey? What is this?"
Before I could speak, its chelicerae touched my face. I felt its mind brush through mine. It hovered about the incident. The man breaking in, trying to force me into submission so he could rob me. Me fighting back. The knife. It sinking into his chest. The blood. The gurgle. That horrid gurgle.
I wanted to scream. But before I could, it withdrew. The memory faded. I gasped, feeling tears run down my face. It wiped my face, before stepping back.
"Not prey. No delicious darkness."
It came towards me again, this time lifting up further. I heard a chewing sound, before my hands dropped free. I stared at the Beast, and it waved a leg.
"Go not prey."
It leaped away, into the shadows. My hands still stuck together, I staggered back along the path. I sobbed as I left, both in relief and terror. The Beast had judged me, and saw my innocence. But the touch of its mind would be something I would never forget. | “Killer!” “Send him to the woods!” “It would eat you, murderer”. I only wanted to leave the village, that was all.
I walk away from the people who who were my friends, my family, into the thick line of trees. Yes I have killed and in doing so committed a great sin, I however have no evil in my heart. My assaulter does. The monster will see that won’t it? It has to know, it has to.
I have walked alone for a couple of hours now and it’s getting dark. No animals live beneath these great trees. Only silence and echoes of regret dwell here. Suddenly, a giant hairy arm crashes the ground before me, completely stopping me in my tracks. Between the trees I see it now. The body of human only scaled to epic proportions, enveloped in thick black hair. The head on the other hand is the most alien thing I have ever seen. A gaping maw with rows of yellow teeth beneath a single eye. The eye draws my attention for while I can see it I can’t focus on it. Until it looks at my face. I feel cold water inside my head as I realize this thing is looking through my soul, searching for a reason to end me.
“Well, human, I see now why the others sent you to me” it said in a language I have never heard before but completely understand. “He attacked me, please, please don’t kill me. He attacked me I swear!”
“Yes yes human, it was either getting sent to me or dying at his hands.” The monster brings its face closer and closer until it almost touches me, I smell death and decay from its mouth. “What will be your judgement I wonder?” It whispers. Cold sweat trickling down my spine I open my mouth again:” I don’t regret what I did even though I knew it meant going to you, because you will know I am innocent”
As I say that I notice behind me his other hand, holding a bunch of white strings, tugging on some while letting some be loose. “I knew they would send you to me because you were too ambitious, you wanted to leave, to leave me!” It screams at me, I flinch backwards but as I do he attaches a string to me head. “You won’t try to leave now, not like the others” he gestures behind him. All the people who were eaten, their bones facing away from him, trying to escape. Trying to escape the village. | 2021-03-16T11:59:31 | 2021-03-16T10:05:48 | 283 | 64 |
[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. |
I remember the first night, as terrible as it was, it is one of those memories that never leaves you. My mother had come home late, she worked hard in a small salon in the city, it wasn't much to get us by, but she always smiled when she saw me, always walked a little happier when she was reminded of why she did it. I had forgotten to hang out the clothes, like she had asked me, silly I know, but it's always the little things I suppose. She went out, in the cold, I kept saying sorry, tears welling up, I knew she was tired...but she leant down, like she always did and spoke in a quiet voice "hush now my little angel, go and pray, the days are long and the future waits little one, go to bed, I'll be okay."
The house rocked with steel and fire, I heard screaming, it was my mothers, dazed as I was, I can still feel the flames licking in the darkness and ripped curtains muddied on the floors. My father grabbed me, hands wet with blood. It was not until years had past, that my father spoke of the event, one morning in the ragged refugee tent that we had come to claim as our own.
My father said they came to deliver us from evil, I....I am not sure. He said it was a sign from god, and so I took it upon myself to walk the path that every boy must walk eventually I took my courage and used it. I must become a man to see it through.
Much has changed since that fateful night, and perhaps now, I can put meaning to my life. I shall set everything right. Allah Akbar. I cry. I am coming home.
| 2014-07-07T07:52:08 | 2014-07-07T07:30:11 | 91 | 24 |
[WP] You are a superhero and not a native English speaker. You chose your superhero name early, when you didn't know much English yet and gravely misunderstood what your name means. You have been trying to get rid of this name ever since. | To Hero Corp Administration,
I came to America ten years ago. When I arrived, I was but a teenager with nary a sense of how the English language worked. My father and mother both worked hard to give me the live they thought I deserved. Even when my latent potential awakened, my parents worked tirelessly to give me the training and education I needed to succeed. When I was ready to show the world who I am, I picked a name that I thought embodied my identity. My voice can bring down buildings. My zodiac sign embodies my stubbornness. I thought I would bring fear to those who prey on the weak; And for a time, I did.
I humbly request that you grant me a reprieve and allow me to change my name. It interferes with my duties and puts unnecessary strain on my relationship with the locals. While some view the name as humorous, others believe I am trying to be coy. Nobody seems to take me seriously anymore. I truly wish to re brand and I will do whatever it takes to move forward.
Signed,
Throat Goat | Dear Hero Corps,
I know this is probably just going to get buried, since this is the 30th email I’ve sent to you all. However, yet again I would like to request a name change. I know my unique powers to spit liquid fire are hard to add a nickname to, however since the move to the English sector, I’ve realized there’s certain issues with my name.
Yet again I ask, please let me change my hero name, my branding agent quit and I think it’s time to rebrand as “Fire Breather” or “Spit fire”.
Sincerely,
Spit Roast aka Gregory | 2022-06-24T11:00:08 | 2022-06-24T10:00:11 | 73 | 48 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "What is she *doing*?" asked Wyll, staring at a round-ish woman who was squeezing a bulb of a lilly, rinsing her hands in the foamy lather that came out. She was on her knees next to a little stream, near her little cottage up the hill.
"Is she squeezing a potato?" asked Wyll. "Why on earth is she squeezing a potato?"
Wyll and Alice were peering over a bush, utterly fascinated.
"She's utterly barmy she is" said Alice. "What on earth is she trying to achieve, playing with a potato?"
"It must be old age" said Wyll. "Mam says when a person passes the age of 40, they go mad."
"Must be it." said Alice, shaking her head sadly. "And she's not even 40 yet!"
"Yeah..." mused Wyll forlornly. "Maybe some go earlier than others."
"Oh dear. She's licking her hands now."
"Oh dear. Mam and Pap better hear about this!"
=====
Nancy was ecstatic. She had just been washing what she had initially supposed was a potato, and quickly discovered that in fact, it was not a potato. She even discovered that some substance would come out when squeezed, *and* her hands smelt and felt *cleaner*. She was definitely putting this in her journal.
=====
| "Dear, don't listen to her!"
I stood square and looked mom in the eye. "I will. She explained more of it and it all hangs together. She said we could *die*. I think we should at least… check it."
Mom took a deep breath and came around the table. "I had hoped she'd be able to hold her tongue around the kids. What a thing to obsess about! Lousy woman, not letting us handle things in our own time. Honey!"
Dad appeared momentarily. "Mmmm?"
Mom looked to me. "Would you repeat that for father?"
So I did, hesitantly.
Dad and Mom stared to each other for a moment. Then, Dad began the terrible secret of death: "Her concerns *were* real, and her solutions *were* good, once, long ago, well before we spread from our first planet…" | 2017-09-14T15:50:54 | 2017-09-14T09:10:03 | 127 | 18 |
[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)
I knocked politely on the door of Grace's new penthouse. She took a while answering, which made it all the more surprising when she answered wearing nothing but a towel. I could feel my facial muscles strain to raise my eyebrows higher than eyebrows were designed to go. She had changed her hair, too. It had been a soft brown just a week ago, but it was now a fiery red, done up in a way that evoked Veronica Lake.
"Well, I was about to ask if you were ready to go, but I guess that answers that question!" I noted.
"Not quite yet," she agreed. "Guess you'd better come in, then."
I'd definitely been interested in seeing the inside of her new place ever since she told me she had bought the penthouse on the top floor of her condo building; she'd previously had a suite on the third floor that merely overlooked the staff parking lot. I let her show me in. Her couches looked a little out of place in this much higher-end unit, but I knew they were comfortable and she wouldn't get rid of them until she had to. The kitchen, however, was a checkerboard of new top-of-the-line appliances.
Grace had disappeared back into what had to be the master suite. "Glad you're here," she called. "Need your help with something." She reappeared, gowns in either hand, one gold, one green. "So, which one do you think I should wear tonight?" Grace asked.
"Your towel's slipping a bit," I noted.
She looked down, then looked back up, her hair flipping over her shoulder as she did. "So it is, Sir Detective. I can see why you got the job. Very observant."
I shrugged sheepishly. "Go with the gold. Or blue, if you've got it. It's a police gala, after all."
Even though I was on the force and she was not, going to the Police Foundation gala tonight had been her idea. It was probably something I should've been going to every year, especially since I got promoted to detective, but it just never seemed right. After all, it was inevitable that crimes were getting committed somewhere out there in this city at any time, and cops at a party were by definition not ones on the streets. But Grace's surveillance-software company was a major sponsor and she had an extra pair of tickets. Not like I could turn her down. Also, it was clear that a lot somehow was changing in Grace's own life in a hurry, hopefully for the better, and I wanted to be there for her.
"I can do blue!" she said. "Which style do you think would look better on me, though?"
I indicated the one on the right, the gold one, mostly just because it was clear a decision needed to be made here and either one would be just fine. I wasn't in the mood for indecisiveness, especially because the event was supposed to start in thirty minutes and it was a twenty minute drive.
"Great!" she said. And then she just stepped into the dress. She didn't put it over her head, or unzip the back. She literally *stepped into* it. The towel fell away from her completely, giving me a split-second glance at *all* of her, and then the dress was on her, perfectly situated and already laced up the back. Also, it was now a dazzling cerulean that complemented her new hair. It also had a corset-style torso that I hadn't noticed before that either revealed quite the hourglass figure or else compressed her into it. Maybe a little of both.
"Yet another interesting trick you've picked up that you're not going to tell me how?" I asked.
"I'm sure you'll solve the mystery eventually, Detective. It's what you do, isn't it?"
"Better not be a murder at the end of this one," I drawled.
"Oh, please. Now come on, I need your help again." She turned and walked into her bedroom. I followed, in part curious about the new master suite. It was as impressive as one would expect in a penthouse this size. As I entered, I saw Grace step into a pair of five-inch stilettos without breaking stride, gold with sequins or something else sparkling on the heel. Between one step and the next, her gait simply changed from the normal walk of anyone barefoot to the rolling strut of a woman with experience wearing high heels.
"Amazing new place," I noted. "But anyway, what did you need my help with?" | Julia awoke to the sound of singing birds. A stream of light broke through her window and struck her face in a rainbow. She squinted and buried her head under a pillow. Reaching out to turn off the alarm, her hand landed on a bird, which took off with a squawk. She bolted upright.
A flock of birds began to encircle her like a halo, flashing through the rainbow from the window. The west-facing window. She brushed the birds away and yelled across the house. "Tarquina!"
"Tarqu—" Julia's yell was cut off as her bedroom door opened. A tall Amazonian ducked into the room sporting a tray piled with a steaming breakfast and far too many exposed abs. As she straightened up her head barely missed the ceiling. She wore a leather harness festooned with draping white silk.
The giantess placed the breakfast tray in front of Julia. It was piled with a meal appropriate for a fifties sitcom: steak and eggs, ham, hash browns, bacon and sausage, pancakes and a waffle, and both milk and orange juice. Julia normally had an entire half cold strawberry pop-tart or occasionally half an entirely cold strawberry pop-tart. She rubbed her eyes and ignored the tray, as it didn't contain any coffee.
"Tarquina, why is there sun coming in my window? It's six thirty. The sun should be over there somewhere," she said pointing vaguely over her shoulder. "Did you— Did you move the sun?"
Tarquina tossed her golden hair in a laugh. "No silly, that would be impossible. I created a second one. Just a little guy. Your room is always so dreary in the morning. I suppose I could have used mirrors, but it's just not the same. So, a nice little sun, just for you and the surrounding hundred square miles or so, and a proper breakfast."
"I have a feeling that's going to fuck with somebody's crops. Where's the coffee?" Julia swung her feet out of bed. She was wearing sweatpants and a baggy hoodie and she didn't plan on changing that all day.
"Coffee? But you always drank orange juice. I mean— It's better for you and doesn't give you that coffee breath. I just thought that today we could do some stuff. We haven't hung out enough since I got back from the place."
Julia plodded off to the kitchen in search of coffee. Tarquina followed her with the tray. A clay automaton stood in the kitchen, busying itself by cleaning up the residue of four breakfast meats and various other splatters. After she had started the coffee pot, Julia took a sausage from the tray.
"Okay, Tarquina, I'm gonna be straight here. I've known about your little crush thing for months, but I thought you would get over it. It was fun when you were a mousy little roommate. But this—" she said, gesturing broadly at everything, "is not really my thing."
"Is it the hair? I can go back to brown. I can even drop the height, see." Tarquina shrunk down to a height that would have been normal for an NFL quarterback, still a foot and a half taller than she had been last week.
"No, Tarquina. It's that we are roommates and friends, not lovers. Also— let's see— the fact that you are some sort of goddess now and you have never bothered to explain how that is? You just keep vaguely alluding to some 'place'. What happened to you?"
Tarquina shrank further, back to the mousy little roommate. "I just thought of it as the other place. It was bad. Lonely. I just learned to control it. It took so long."
"You were only gone for like a minute."
"A minute here. There it was a thousand years. Ten thousand. But it was okay once you were there." She reached out to hold Julia's hand.
Julia stared at the familiar hand. "That wasn't me. I was here the whole time."
A tear streamed down Tarquina's face. "Bringing you there was the first thing I learned to do. I don't know why you don't remember."
\[More writing and critiques at r/c_avery_m\] | 2022-02-24T10:26:27 | 2022-02-24T09:39:12 | 143 | 103 |
[WP] "If you plan on going somewhere dangerous, bring a human" | "Remind me," Eric said as he pulled himself off of the ladder, "why the hell I'm here with you?" . The man dusted himself off and checked around them, it was dark, just dark enough to be the belly of a massive ship.
"I'm paying you to be," Thador said from above. Through the translator, his voice sounded deep and commanding, like he could get anything he wanted. Eric didn't know what Til-ai actually sounded like, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.
"It's starting to feel like it's not worth it," Eric sighed as he readied his blaster. It had been a long day getting into the damn ship, but the next stage involved going up. "I didn't think I was going to be pissing off Hasida again.
"You're not pissing them off," Thador corrected, "you're stealing from them."
"Which pisses them off," Eric added.
"That's just a side effect." Thador dropped off of his ladder and his talons cut across the metal. They were tough enough that he could walk barefoot almost anywhere.
"Ready?" Eric asked.
"Yup."
"Ventis systems online then," Eric said. The A.I he worked with lit up his suit with hardlight armor. It was a touch too bright to be in the belly of a freighter, but it would need to do.
"God damn showoff," Thador hissed through his beak as the pair started to go down the hallway. Their steps sounded almost opposite as they walked, soft human padding and harsh Til-ai scraping.
The Ventris system was unique in two ways. One was that it would burn most species, as they had a lower core temperature than humans. The second was that it ran off of A.I, and couldn't be used without one. Most species had banned A.I after a pre-spaceflight disaster, humans and the galactic running Vorkis were the two that still used them.
"You could get one," Eric said into the dampener on his visor. It kept the two from being heard as they chatted.
"Yeah, but not like I wanna cook myself if I use it for more than five minutes."
"Well," Eric shrugged, "five minutes could save your life mate."
"You know I'll forget to turn it off."
"Fair enough."
Thador held up his hand and tried to peak around the corner. He had a good three feet on Eric, which meant he wasn't hiding anywhere on a mostly human mining ship. He motioned forward and Eirc leaped ahead, pointing his rifle down the hallway that was coming up.
"Holy shit, who sent you the details on this?"
"Mom," Thador said, Eric nodded. "Jackpot?"
"I cannot believe you found out which ship this was on," Eric said. He jogged ahead to the door that capped the hallway. There was a hardlight cover on it, but the ventris system Eric was wearing slapped it away with lightning. Human DNA was enough of a password for the door.
Hashida was the corporation that was in charge of all of the mining in the third sector. They were rich in the way of Galactic level bribes. One of those bribes was making sure that they got almost exclusive access to the exploration missions that happened every fifty years. They went out into unexplored space and discovered useful planets, brought up species, made more money than most people could fathom.
To leave explored space during a mission you needed to have a pass. There were passes on the desk that Thador had brought Eric to find. Sure, they had to piss someone off to get here, but they were staring at a chance to be massively rich.
Eric snatched one of the passes and threw it back to Thador before taking one for himself. The second that Thador touche the pass, a sharp alarm went up on higher floors.
"Fucking Bio-Alarms?" Thador swore as he pocketed the passes and took out his rifle.
"They don't want pirates taking their billions," Eric commented.
"I'm not a pirate, you're a fucking pirate."
"Yeah, but I'm a human, and we're kinda racist."
---
Sorry ! I have to go, I'll finish this in a bit but it's father's day! | "Mmmh? Why's that?"
"Because they're the only race to innately have healing magic, of course! Everyone knows that!"
Sydney took a good, long stare at the innkeeper. "Right. Everybody knows that. Figured you might have been throwing out some wisdom..."
"If you plan on going somewhere dangerous, bring a human," the innkeeper repeated, mechanically. "Because they're the only race to innately have healing magic, of course! Everyone knows that!" Another woman had wandered up to the counter, seemingly triggering the innkeeper to repeat his tidbit of wisdom. Similarly, she too gave a rather blunt and quick response, before wandering off again.
"Looks like nobody's looking for roleplay, today," Sydney surmised, noting the relative lack of bodies at the inn's front counter. She backed away from the counter, and then headed off on her way.
---
"Hey, Syd! Wanna go on a run with us?"
Sydney stopped in her tracks, in the middle of the street. It was as populated as always, and so it was hard for her to find the source of the voice right away. Finally, a rather familiar form entered her vision, along with a name, floating above their head.
> Gabriel Butler <Knight of Storms>
"Hey, Gabe... I dunno, what are you looking to run?"
"Dark Cathedral. We need two DPS and a healer. You're like, the best DPS I know, so..." Gabriel got down on his knees, practically prostrating himself before Sydney. "Please?"
Sydney quietly hummed, staring down at the man. "DC's a bit below my level," she said, "But, you don't have a healer? Don't you know-"
"Humans are one of the only races that can heal, yeah, I know the joke," Gabriel interrupted, "We haven't found one yet. There are so many ridiculous demi-races, it's hard to find any healers whatsoever..."
Sydney shrugged, and then set her hands upon her hips. "Alright, sure. Give me an invite. I'll see if I can convince one of my guildmates to come with us."
"Seriously?! Awesome!" After the man went into his menu, a dialog appeared in front of Sydney, and she quickly tapped a confirmation button. One short fanfare later, and she was in their party.
---
"Oh, you're logging out?" Gabriel asked. After their dungeon run was complete, they were transported out to one of the city plazas, where many parties formed or disbanded.
"Yeah. I've got some drawing to catch up on," Sydney said, nodding. "Gotta make a living, right?" She opened her menu and, quite simply, started the log-out process. It always took anywhere from ten to thirty seconds.
"Later, then. Oh, and put a word in with your guild leader for me, oka-"
Gabriel's words were cut off as Sydney's vision flooded with darkness. Shortly afterward, she regained consciousness, staring up at the ceiling of her room. Slowly, she removed her helmet, which had been routing her consciousness into virtual space. Stretching, she carefully got up from her bed, and then headed off into her apartment.
"Man, I'm starving... the hunger meters in that game totally need some work."
---
Well, that was fun. I would've written out more of the in-between stuff, but I don't feel like meta commentary over video game dungeons would be altogether very interesting. If you want more, check out my sub, [r/Probroscis](https://www.reddit.com/r/Probroscis/). My series are properly labeled and less confusing, now. | 2016-06-19T12:24:49 | 2016-06-19T12:20:24 | 107 | 25 |
[WP] Finishes with "May I start over?" | He laid on his back as the pain slowly sank in. Is this what death felt like? Surely the fall must have killed him. Oh well. It was just nice to feel something again. The dreary 20 years that lead to this moment were finally coming to a close.
No. That's not right.
So the year is 1944 on June 6th. Steve took one last look at the picture of his daughter before the gate would open. Fear clawed at his stomach and warmth dribbled down his leg. It didn't matter. They would all be wet soon.
No. Too overdone. This might actually be better.
The cold crept in through the window that had been locked for the last 10 years. Tonight I was not alone. Perhaps I have nothing to worry about. But that body in the basement... No. this isn't how justice works.
Shit. Nothing is coming to me right now. Everything is dry. I'm sure something good will come up. Sorry /u/ztikmaenn. May I start over?
| 'May I start over' the words reverberated through him, no now, her. The newborn baby let out a small inaudible sigh. The man saw his memories drift away like dew on morning roses, his love, crimes, treason, hate, schooling, knowledge, ability to talk, crawling, all gone. The baby girl smiled feebly at her mother knowing she'd have no access to her old knowledge after this. The baby was put through tests as the memories faded away, leading up to a large white gate. Hitler asked the Lord, "May I start over?" | 2013-09-01T07:01:42 | 2013-09-01T06:51:01 | 89 | 17 |
[WP] Your power is “fuck no”. Every time you sense danger of any kind nearby you yell fuck no! And bail. You have suevived serial killers, cults, even terrorist attacks. This morning you wake up yelling fuck no Every 2 minutes without fail. | “Fuck nooo-ughhhh.” A loud yawn followed the swear as Tim stretched his arms out, giving his alarm clock a rather hard smack. Turning the church bell chime, it emitted into a static mess as it collided with his carpet. “That’s weird. Isn’t it a little early for danger? What sort of person tries to murder someone before 7am? Isn’t that against some sort of law?”
Tim grumbled to himself about the legality of early morning murder, slipping on his bunny slippers as he went to retrieve his dressing gown from his wardrobe. As soon as his hands touched the wooden wardrobe, he shouted another “FUCK NO.” before hastily turning away from it, proceeding to his kitchen with his body feeling rather icy.
“In the wardrobe? REALLY? Have some originality. What are you wearing, a hockey mask too? Stupid Hollywood wannabe. Don’t just copy everything you see on T.V, be unique.” A thud was heard in the wardrobe as if someone wearing a very heavy hockey mask had just lowered their head in shame. The serial killer not even feeling motivated to murder him anymore, instead their mind was filled with trips away to some tropical island to find themselves again.
In the kitchen, Tim shook his box of high sugar, low health, crunchy rainbow dragon cereal. “FUCK NO.” He said, only this time the swear wasn’t because of the threat of danger but the fact that they hadn’t packed the supposedly guaranteed toy that came with every box of cereal. Tim had been trying to collect the rainbow dragon set, and this was rather disturbing to him, even more disturbing than the self-pitying serial killer still standing in his wardrobe.
With a heavy heart he poured his milk and cereal, staring at the multicolored dragons marshmallows that were hungrily sucking up the milk and expanding, growing to their full sugary capacity. He let out a sigh, wondering what the point of cereal was without a toy. Before he could eat, he had to stop and watch the serial killer walk sheepishly out of his home, the killer not turning to look at their potential victim.
“Bye.” Tim said, giving a wave with his spoon.
The killer just mumbled something under his mask as he headed out. Tim scooped up a few dragons, ready to devour the beasts before dropping his spoon. “FUCK NO.” His stomach growled after the swear as he got up and tossed the food into the bin. “Ok, who poisoned my cereal? Did you also take my toy? I want that back.” No answer came. The assassin had left long ago, taking with him the rare blue dragon that Tim needed.
Tim waited for an answer before giving up. He had to wonder why he was such a target for these weirdoes. Yes, he had an amazing ability, but it wasn’t like he had any ambitions of using his powers for good. He just wanted a simple life working an office job and collecting cheap cereal box toys. It was as if his ability just attracted danger.
He decided he would just grab some breakfast from the vending machine at work today, about to go get dressed, only to hear a knock on the door. “FUCK NO.” Usually, he would have avoided the door, but his frustrations were getting the better of him. He opened the door, staring at the old, robed man standing behind it. The man had a few curly stray hairs attracted to his wrinkled face. His grey eyes remained locked on Tim as he raised a bent finger.
“You are the one we need for our blood sacrifice. Your blood will gift us with the power of foresight. We will become sons and daughters of the goddess Aliva.“ He reached into his robe, pulling out a gun, only for Tim to tap the edge of his doorway, gaining the man’s attention.
“Ok, there’s certainly a law against this. You aren’t allowed to start door knocking for your religion until at least 8am. It’s still too early, you will have to come back later.”
“Excuse me?” The man placed the gun back into his robe, expecting screaming, not such a levelheaded response.
“Yeah, we had a lot of trouble with door knocking and early morning construction, so now there are laws to say it can’t be done until 8am. So you can’t operate a chainsaw until 8am and you can’t collect me and drain me for blood until 8am either.”
“But… Lady Aliva said we should come and get you.”
“Yes, you can come and get me in the designated time period. Between 8am and 6pm. Even cults have to operate at normal times, or do you want to displease your goddess by getting a fine?”
The man looked inside his robes, then at Tim, considering his options. He had never heard of such a law, but the last thing the cult needed was police kicking in their doors before they could drain his blood. “FINE, we will return at the recommend time. If you are not here, we will leave a card and schedule another time.”
Tim watched the man leave, making a mental note to work late shifts this week. The cult would eventually lose interest, like the others had. When the old man got into his green and red van, Tim shut the door.
“What a morning.” He said to himself as he began dressing for work, hoping the day wouldn’t be as chaotic as his morning had been.
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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.) | In the world of superheroes there are those individuals who stand tall amongst the rest. They are the faces you see on the news. They are those who catch falling planes from the sky, rescue people from burning buildings, the front line in the battle against evil. They are known as the "Radiants"-- individuals with accomplishments so bright they shine like the sun.
On the other side of the coin however stood the "Shadows". These are the people working in the background. They are the sewer rats crawling in places the light can't touch. Covert missions, activities shrouded in secrecies, infiltrations are some of the jobs they deal with.
An agent of government's Shadow Ops-- Flynn Mullen codename: Radar possessed the strongest danger sense ever observed in any superheroes. He has been the stopping force of many perilous activities that may have crumbled society itself had they been left unchecked though the way Radar informed the presence of danger was quite...unique.
"Fuck no!", he yelled once in the middle of an important political speech. Thanks to him, a group of armed domestic terrorists were incapacitated even before they were able to step foot inside the room.
"Fuck no!", he yelled once in the middle of a diner. Thanks to him, a most wanted serial killer was caught before he even could order his coffee.
Flynn's ability was notably important, too important in fact that the government failed to keep his involvement secret...until it was too late.
"Good morning, Flynn. Great job thwarting the assassination plot on the ambassador yesterday", Agent L-- Flynn's handler greeted the hero.
"Thanks", Flynn said letting out a long yawn. "Sorry, long flight last night and I couldn't sleep on the plane. I didn't even shower or change from yesterday", he laughed.
The two walked towards the cafeteria within the secret site where Shadows were housed. They were chitchatting normally when all of the sudden, Flynn stopped on his tracks...
"Flynn? What's wrong...?", Agent L asked when suddenly Flynn yelled loudly, shocking the half awake agent.
"FUCK NO! FUCK NO!", Flynn yelled. His eyes bugged out, his breathing became rapid as adrenaline rushed. Flynn's whole body felt a strong sense of doom-- an indication of danger nearby, and judging by the magnitude of it, a high threat level was extremely nearby.
"Flynn, what is it? Where is it coming from?", Agent L caught on quickly.
Flynn looked around frantically, much to the other staff of the site's nervousness.
"I...I don't know. FUCK NO!", Flynn yelled again.
Agent L turned on his communication device connected to the site's PA system. "Agent L to every staff. Sound the alarm, Radar detected an unseen danger. Suspected threat level 0. Every staff go back to your quarters. Guards search the perimeter. Command center scan the surrounding"
"FUCK NO!", Flynn was still screaming when his voice was drowned out by the blaring alarm.
The scene was chaotic as people began running around them, but Agent L stayed with the still frantic Flynn.
"Flynn, focus! Remember your training. Breathe...and focus!", Agent L yelled into Flynn's ear.
Flynn obliged and he began to calm himself down. Controlling his breathing, Flynn's mind began to become clearer.
"Good. Now, follow your sense, Flynn. Where is the danger?", Agent L said calmly in the midst of the madness.
"Fuck no", Flynn's screaming became lower as he concentrated.
Though it didn't last long as the imminent danger overwhelmed Flynn's sense once more.
"FUCK NO!", Flynn yelled as he began to teared up in confusion.
"Damn it", Agent L muttered under his breath. "Command center! Anything?"
*"No, Agent L. Negative on the scan around the perimeter"*, a voice replied.
"Flynn, come on! Snap out of it!", Agent L, frustrated, raised his hand ready to slap Flynn straight.
"Fuck no!", Flynn yelled and managed to dodge Agent L's slap.
"No...", Flynn muttered realizing something from the dodged slap.
"No, no, no, no, no...", Flynn looked up to the ceiling before frantically checking his person, grabbing on his clothes and checking his pockets.
"Flynn, what is it? Flynn!", Agent L yelled.
"I could sense your slap! The danger isn't coming from the surrounding!", Flynn yelped.
Agent L understood then. Knowing Flynn's power-- that he could only sense the most dangerous thing around him, Agent L looked up to the sky.
"Command center, scan the air around the site. As wide as you can, scan the air", Agent L spoke to his communication device again.
A brief pause followed before from the static the command center answered grimly.
*"Agent L, a nuclear missile is coming our way. Ten kilometers right above the site..."*
Agent L looked Flynn with unfathomable fear in his face when Flynn pulled something out from the back of his shirt collar-- a small tracking device.
Flynn met Agent L's terrified face with his own terrified eyes.
"The assassination plot...", Flynn realized he had been played when everything went up in light as the site were destroyed to nothing but ashes...all to take him out.
r/HangryWritey
Edit: spacing | 2022-06-30T23:52:54 | 2022-06-30T22:34:16 | 86 | 43 |
[WP] A schizophrenic get admitted to a mental institution where he meets another schizophrenic who hears the same voices as him.
Thanks everyone for the positive response to this prompt! You've all renewed my faith in my own creativity. | “Well, this is a mess we’ve gotten ourselves into indeed isn’t it?”
Greg Alexander mused to no one in particular as he assessed the space he would, presumably, occupy to himself for the foreseeable future. All things considered it was not overly oppressive.
The walls hinted at something that might have once been white and did their absolute best to ruin Greg’s perfectly good mood. An experimental hop on the bed revealed it was in fact a thin mattress smelling distinctly of fear and sweat atop an aluminum box spring that was likely here before the building was. All in all Greg was relatively pleased.
“This place is going to kill me.”
Greg looked up from his mattress, shocked to find that he had a roommate.
Standing at the door was another man, dressed in the same pristine white jumpsuit as Greg. Well, naturally these man’s was not the same, how could it be. Greg had his own and if the two of them were sharing the same jumpsuit it would be far too much sharing indeed. Especially if they were to share the bed. Greg would need to bring that up at some point.
“Somebody let me out of here.” The man was screaming now. Banging his obviously malnourished fists against the door. “I’m not crazy. I don’t belong in here.”
“Well of course you’re not crazy.” Greg decided he should do his best to smooth the situation over, lest his good mood be ruined “If you were crazy, you’d be out there. Not in here. It’s actually quite nice in here.”
The man at the door slowly turns around, shock clearly writ all over a face that’s remarkably familiar to Greg.
“What are you doing here?”
Greg frowned and took a moment to consider this only to discover that in fact he had no earthly idea how he’d come to arrive in this place. Surely he must have, one couldn’t spend one’s entire life in a single room. Could they?
“I’m sure not sure actually. What are you doing here?”
The man at the door pressed his back fully to said door. “I’ve been brought here. Against my will. Just today in fact.”
“Well then. Welcome. My name is Greg Alexander and I’m not sure how long I’ve been here.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Yes I thought much the same thing myself, however, that is the only conclusion I am able to come to.”
“No. My name is Greg Alexander.”
“Yes we’re aware of that Mr. Alexander.” Suddenly, a new voice. A woman’s voice of all things. Which was preposterous given the current occupants of the room were both men. The two Gregs in the room suddenly froze, looked at the other expectantly.
“Mr. Alexander, can you hear me?” The must have been coming from a loud speaker, though no such device was in the room.
“Do you hear that?” Greg asked the other Greg.
“I do.”
“Oh my, that’s not very good at all.”
“No Greg. Not it isn’t.”
“I believe we’re quite mad.”
And indeed, it just so happened that in another room entirely there sat yet another Greg Alexander. This one seated and restrained with zip ties to the arms of a very expensive chair that matched the very expensive room.
Across from him an expensive looking woman was leaning across her large desk clearly already exasperated with her new patient.
“Mr. Alexander do you understand the reason you’ve been brought to this facility today?”
For the briefest of moments Greg Alexander’s eyes focused on the woman across from and he smiled “Yes. We’re quite mad indeed.”
| Twenty minutes in which to live. They take us to the red dust yard, hands chuffed, ankles chained. Three o'clock to twenty minutes past three o'clock. Sixteen hours leather-strapped to an iron frame, drowning in my loneliness and waiting for these precious golden minutes. I turn my face to the sun and take in the heat which is so conspicuously absent in the cold concrete block which seems to take nothing of the chaleur of the Arizonian desert.
*Hey man.*
"Hey Roo."
*How's it going?*
"Not too bad. Could be worse."
People watch me warily. I see them, even when they think i don't. I'm mentally ill, not stupid. Jeez. They tend to congregate in little groups. You pick who looks like you, who's diagnosed the same as you, who takes the same dosage and you stick with them. They avoid me. They always avoid the screamers.
Roo runs his hands over my body, fingers tracing the puckered scar just under my left lung. Someone took particular offence to me and decided to slide a sharpened toothbrush between my two lowest limbs. He spent a month dosed beyond the legal limit and I spent a month in hospital, cuffed to an iron bed before they let the nurses take a look at me.
"It's alright, Roo." I say, stretching out the kinks in my back.
"Roo doesn't like you." My eyes snap open. There's a burly man standing in front of me, voice oddly soft for someone his size.
"What?"
"He told me. He doesn't like you. He wants to hurt you." The man held up his fists. In one ham-sized hand he clutched a sharpened toothbrush.
"Not again." I roll my eyes and he steps forwards.
"Hey!" I cringe away from him, raise my hands. He bats them away.
At the corner of my vision I see the guards running, but a hot flame between my ribs tells me it's too late. He slides the toothbrush through my flesh, drawing it up and towards my belly button. My white t-shirt separates at the fibres like butter, blood spilling down in in heavy, thick slugs.
I clutch at the cut, legs giving way beneath me. Fall onto the red dirt, blood pushing through my fingers in angry spurts.
The guards cluster around me.
"On your feet, inmate!" Gonzalez shouts, baton already halfway out.
"I've been stabbed!" I shriek, trying desperately to stop the flow of blood gushing from my side.
They pick me up by the arms, tearing my hands away from my cut. I'm screaming wildly.
"Roo! Fuck you, Roo!"
It's all his fault, it's all his fault.
I'm cuffed to a bed by one wrist. There is no sun on my face. The concrete walls loom above me. I push my clean white shirt up my torso. There is no blood. There is no wound. There is no scar. | 2014-03-23T10:20:46 | 2014-03-23T09:31:33 | 170 | 64 |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice. | "Tits?"
"Yeah, what in Oblivion is going on with all the giant tits?" asked Faendal.
"I didn't notice anything" responded Alvor, confused.
"Really? You didn't notice the fact that your wife suddenly has boobs bigger her head? Or the fact that her clothing is now some strange dominatrix type stuff? I mean, look around the damn neighborhood. There were never this many buildings in Riverwood prior to last night. Now suddenly we have a dozen new neighbors and there's just houses everywhere?"
"Faendal, I'm pretty sure you've just had a rough night at the Sleeping Giant. Maybe you need to go lie down for a while. I'll still be here by the forge if you need me."
Faendal left Alvor to his blacksmithing duties. He decided to walk out of town, towards the forest near Lake Ilinalta, to do some hunting.
As he walked through the woods, he saw the Dragonborn, who had helped him win over Camilla Valerius, the love of his life. He decided to seek his assistance.
"Hey, Dragonborn! I need your help. It's as if I'm going crazy. There's tits and houses and stuff everywhere. Hell, right now you're wearing a set of armor that I don't think I've ever seen before. I mean, it doesn't look like it's even from this world. The material looks all blurry and blocky. I think I'm going crazy. It must be a spell that Sheogorath has placed on me or something of the like. I need your help. Please."
The Dragonborn stared at him in complete silence. And in a moment, a small, transparent window covered a third of Faendal's vision. He was paralyzed. All he could do was watch as an arrow floated over him, numbers appeared in the corner of his sight, and the word "disable" appeared letter by letter before him.
And in an instant, Faendal was gone forever. | “Bill? Bill. Bill did you just see that?”
Bill sighed and rubbed his forehead. Craig was seriously starting to get on his nerves today.
“See what, Craig?”
Craig wildly waved his hands in the direction of the PC.
“Dude! The PC has a sword made of light! It’s blue! And he flew in on a giant...dog...thing with a creepy face on it! What do you mean ‘see what, Craig’? Are you bonkers?”
Bill rolled his eyes for possibly the seven thousandth time that day and marched off to do his patrol route – fortunately he got away from Craig every forty-five seconds for exactly twenty-three seconds each time.
Thirty-seven minutes later he saw Craig running full speed from the village toward where Bill was patiently walking.
“Bill! Where have you been!? The PC blew up a building! Those buildings have been indestructible for… for… centuries! We’ve had dragons that couldn’t hurt those buildings, and he just waved his hand and the general store went flying! I don’t get it Bill. Everything’s going crazy!”
Monica sighed and rubbed her forehead, noticing for the first time that her ample bosom made this rather difficult. Craig was seriously starting to get on her nerves today.
“Craig. Buddy. Everything is totally normal. What is your problem?”
Monica rolled her eyes and adjusted her hilariously small undergarments for possibly the seven thousandth time that day and marched off in a random direction, wondering who the hell “Bill” was.
| 2015-08-04T07:43:46 | 2015-08-04T07:22:50 | 98 | 34 |
[WP] You have a small superpower. Whenever you tap someone on the shoulder, they always look over that shoulder, without fail. At first, you just used this for harmless pranks. Then, you realized you can kill people by tapping both of their shoulders. | The first time I used my powers was when I didn't even know it existed. 14-year old me decided to joke with the studious girl sitting in front of me by tapping on her shoulder jokingly mid-lesson. I was shocked momentarily when she turned around instantly, accompanied with an annoyed "What?" She was the type of girl who never tore her eyes away from the whiteboard until the lesson ended. I thought she turned around and forsook learning for me. That led to my confession a month later, and her swift rejection. The pain in my heart lasted for a long time.
I was reminded of my power again when I was 16. I tapped my buddy's shoulder one day, intending to alert him of an oncoming car behind us. But he turned around without hesistation, saw the car and hurried to the curb. "Thanks man" and a pat on the back was my reward. And my suspicions were aroused.
Over the course of the next year, I explored the use of my powers. I proved its existence to my family when their heads snapped backwards at my touch. After my initial joy at discovery, I realized how utterly useless the power was. Sure, it was funny. And I utilized it as well as I could, tapping a classmate's shoulder to make the teacher think he was talking. And they were pretty hilarious. But I finally found a use for it, one magical September night.
I was dating a girl for a year then. We were both 18, studying in the same university. That night, as she admired the stars, I positioned my face behind her and tapped her shoulder.
As soon as she turned around, my lips were there to meet hers. And like the many young couples of this century, we were locked in a passionate kiss.
She broke it at last, throwing her arms around mine as she clutched me tightly. "I'll never let you go," was all she had to say. The scar in my heart from 14 was finally healed.
Then I found my second power.
As she hugged me, I wrapped my arms around her, patting her shoulders slowly. "Nor will I," I replied.
No reply met me. Only a slumping of her body.
"Julia?" No response.
"Julia??" her body dislodged from mine, limply falling to the ground.
"JULIA!"
______________________________
Liked that? Check out r/Whale62! | Twenty-one years ago, I was born with an unusual superpower. By tapping somebody on their shoulder, I could always make them turn and look over that shoulder.
The superpower seemed innocuous; like it would serve no practical use outside of playing pranks. That was until I had inadvertently tapped both shoulders and killed my girlfriend.
That fateful day was still etched vividly into my brain, and now two years later I stood trial; accused of murdering her.
I was called to the stand and asked to reconstruct the events that unfolded for the jury. In excruciating detail, I explained how my girlfriend and I were getting intimate and she asked me to give her a massage. She took her bra off and lay on her stomach while I sat astride her, pouring massage oil on her back and rubbing it into her; starting with her shoulders.
As I massaged the oil into her, I saw that she was not responding at all, and after trying to get a reaction out of her, I realised that she was lifeless and that she had actually died.
In a panic, I called 911 and within minutes the police were at my door and were immediately suspicious that I had killed her. They handcuffed me and took me away to the station where I was interrogated and eventually charged with murder.
I didn't explain the part about my superpower to make people look over their shoulder. That would've been too farfetched. Besides, after what happened, I wanted to keep that secret to the grave.
Thankfully, despite the best efforts of the prosecution to paint me as a murderer, they found no evidence that I had actually inflicted any kind of harm to her. What they actually found in the autopsy was baffling. Her brain had suffered significant burns - which I immediately interpreted as me overloading her brain by touching both her shoulders.
I was again called to the stand the next morning, after the jury had reached their verdict.
"We find the defendant, Mr John Holmes, not guilty!" | 2017-06-27T22:57:47 | 2017-06-27T21:38:32 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] At birth every one gets a number assigned to them which determines their threat to humanity. You are number 1,039,474,023. Your newlyborn son is born. His number is 1. This number has never been seen before in all of history. | The nurse comes back into the room, cradling our son. "Alex David!" I say, straightening myself up in the bed.
The nurse doesn't smile back, and she certainly doesn't place Alex in my outstretched arms. "Give him to me!" I snap. My husband, Steve, starts to laugh. ("I told you she'd drive you crazy", he says.)
"His number is 1."
An awkward pause. "1 what? I'm about 1 billion, 40 million --"
"No. Just 1."
Steve's face drops. His arm turns rigid against my shoulder. I feel weak; my legs tingle. "Just... 1?"
Before the nurse can answer, Steve is on his feet. "Let me hold my baby," he says. Coldly, calmly.
"I'm -- I'm not supposed to hand him over..."
"I just want to hold him for a moment," he says. Is he blinking tears out of his eyes? The nurse quivers, but she hands Alex to him. Wow. I've never seen him so moved, so adamant about our family. Tears well up in my eyes, and I --
Crack.
He swings Alex into the wall.
He falls to the floor.
Dead.
Screaming, I launch myself from the bed. Wobbling, sputtering, I grab his shoulders. "What have you done?!" I shriek, beating into his shoulders. "What -- have -- you -- done?!"
"You know it had to be done! We've never seen anyone with a number below fifty million! He was a demon, hellspawn, and --"
Glinting light catches my gaze, just over Steve's shoulder. The doctor's tools, polished and gleaming, are still laid out on the table.
I reach and grab the biggest knife.
"Mary -- what --"
"He could have had a chance!" I scream, plunging it at his chest. "You -- murdered -- our -- son!"
The machine that recorded Alex's number was later proven to have malfunctioned; but by then, it was already far, far too late. | (Obligatory First Post)
Brian and Susan Harmony had always been normal people who lived a nice normal life. They met in high school, dated through college, married two years after graduating, and settled down in a small town in North Carolina.
Susan was a Women's Studies major who at first spent much time volunteering at rape crisis and suicide prevention centers. She had always been kind-hearted and a help to all humanity, with her threat-level assigned at 5,432,109,876. When she learned of her pregnancy however, she decided to put an end to her volunteering efforts and focus all her attention at being the best stay-at-home mom there was.
Brian was a little more dangerous, his threat-level assigned at 1,039,474,023. He landed a job at a top accounting firm as a CPA and dealt with in-house auditing of high-level corporations.
Neither Brian or Susan had ever met anyone with a threat-level assignment under 1,000,000,000. To be fair, the top 15% of threat-level assignments were kept anonymous by governments worldwide, as these were the most dangerous people alive. In fact, the top 100 were said to be a greater threat than threatening a nation with a nuclear weapon. No one knew why these individuals were so menacing, but prayed they would never need to find out.
While Brian was certainly a more dangerous individual than most, you would never know it when interacting with him. In fact, Brian & Susan were known as the nicest couple most people met. Of course, this all changed the day Susan felt a strange sensation in her stomach. | 2016-03-28T20:01:26 | 2016-03-28T18:10:53 | 115 | 44 |
[WP] the Dark Lord had killed almost everyone, even the Hero. The final party member stood in the chamber alone. “I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?”. The final party member laughed maniacally with a devilish grin! “There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!” | "I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?" the Dark Lord asked.
I can't see him, but he towers several feet above me as I feel the spirits leave the bodies of the fallen heroes. A familiarity begins coursing through my body. The heat rising within, ignoring my cold, tattered robes. Tiny sparks crackling in my veins, bringing back a feeling lost ages ago. I struggle to hold back a barely visible grin from under my dark hood.
"Mortal," the Dark Lord continues. "You smile knowing your death is inevitable. I commend your bravery and will make your death quick."
The rush from a fragment of power coursing through me forces a gravelly, maniacal laugh from the depths of my lungs. The Dark Lord's face twists in annoyance. "Your disrespect will not be tolerated!" he bellows before lunging at me.
My long slumbering eyes open to the Dark Lord's face just a few inches away from mine, blood smeared across his face and teeth, the tips of his talons sharp just above my collar bone. He's frozen in time. The Dark Lord's face contorts in fear as he witnesses my strength.
The earth leaves from beneath my feet as a whirlwind circles around me. Finally, enough power for me to grasp and make use of. Millenia of slumber slowly getting being pushed away by the familiar warmth of magic and power. "Do you see now?" I manage to muster from my long underused vocal cords as I lower my hood.
The Dark Lord is released from the grasps of time and falls to the ground. He scrambles as he feels my power awakening and gives a slight look of fear and admiration before adjusting himself and standing tall. "I do," the Dark Lord exclaims after a few seconds of glaring. He looks around at the slain mages and warriors, the remnants of a chapter dedicated to my captivity and downfall. The Dark Lord drops to one knee and bows. "The final preparations have been made, Master. There is nothing to stand in your way." | As the headless body of Sly - the Hero of Legend - slumped to its knees the entire chamber grew still. The corpses of his friends were strewn all over. Impaled on spikes, beheaded, torn to shreds. Each one killed in a separate gruesome and imaginative fashion.
The Great Lord - Apollo - the Son of the Sun - the Starchild - opened his hand to study the crushed head in his palm.
"You gave me the fight of my life little one. You and your band of misfits were an actual challenge. I think I'll have a painter - or maybe a sculptor - immortalise this event."
Stepping carefully as to not disturb the morbid scene he slowly moved towards the exit as a dim light appeared behind him. A muffled hiss could be heard.
"......"
The Great Lord halted. Turning slowly he noticed a translucent, brilliantly glowing shape rising from the severed neck of the still kneeling form of Sly.
Writhing and thrashing, the light appeared to take on a humanoid form for a second, then changing back to mere coloured smoke. For a few moments the Great Lord stood perfectly still, watching, waiting.
Suddenly there was a blinding light followed almost instantly by a booming voice, laughing. No. Cackling.
As the kneeling body of Sly tipped over and hit the floor, the Great Lord noticed a white haired man behind it.
"I thank you for your service Great Lord. Apollo!"
The man seemed to grow bigger.
"For decades I have fought - and lost - to this.. Hero", he spat the word.
He cackled maniacally.
"I am Drago, and NO ONE can stop me now!" | 2020-07-11T04:45:03 | 2020-07-11T03:40:49 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] "If I am not the rightful king, lightning shall strike me now!". It struck him. Silence followed. Baffled one of the bystanders cautiously asked "...well, could ya give us a sign who is?" | "My lord, I'm grateful for your invitation. I always heard about your delightful banquets and now I can atest to that."
The king despised the idea of having peasants like the son of the chief blacksmith attending his banquet but his advisors insisted on improving his public image by inviting the lesser kind.
"Drink up, boy. Tell everyone about my generosity", said the king, as he turned away.
"I don't think that they'll care. They're too busy defending themselves from the wild tribes and their rabid beasts because you refuse to strenghten the defenses and protect your own people."
The party came to a halt, with almost every attendee quickly turning their heads towards the insolent one. The royal guard was close enough to disable the threat and drag him to the torture chambers as soon as the king gave the order. The man continued talking, it was all or nothing.
"For your continued negligence it is that I, Elliot of the royal blacksmiths, demand that you ratify your god given position as king like the old teachings say."
The mere act of invoking the old teachings was unheard of, but the king knew he couldn't refuse; it would be too blasphemous of him.
"If I am not the rightful king, lightning shall strike me now."
A bolt roared and impacted the king right on the head. The body dropped to the ground, dirtying the beautiful and expensive clothes. It was a single strike born from a cloudless sky of the most serene blue. Nobody in that garden had ever seen a divine display of power like that, the old teachings said that the gods rarely intervened at all.
Elliot was sweating and shaking slightly. "She did it, she pulled it off", he said to himself.
One of the elders got up from his sit and approached the young man. He looked at the body of the king, and then around to the incredulous crowd. He knew the teachings and his role as the eldest of the attendees.
"Give us a sign, almighty one, for we need to know who our true king is", he yelled to the sky.
The sky rumbled as a second bolt came down and impacted right in front of Elliot, leaving a small fire on the grass. It was clear.
On the other end of the garden, behind the statues, a young girl laid down on the ground. The spell was draining enough when used once so it understandably left her completely exhausted after casting it twice. She smiled as she closed her eyes to take a nap because she knew that the right man for the job was being crowned by the elders next to the corpse. He was the best chance they all had to protect the kingdom from the imminent disaster | “Hell’s”
The tired young knight stayed close to his prince as possible,the prince was a fool with a blade, with a castle,with a kingdom.As the foolish prince ran into more enemies, the knights blade ended more lives.Were they good people,were they going to be missed at home or were they evil men who the gods had put into his path for him to end.It didn’t matter his blade was swift and final.He looked to his liege to stop him before he could do something even more stupid.
”HEAR ME, IFI AM NOT THE RIGHTFUL KING LIGHTNING STRIKE ME NOW!”
for a moment everyone looked at the prince allies and foes alike
“Hell’s” the knight thought as he reached the prince.That was beyond idiotic now everyone knew were he was as he put his arm on the prince the world exploded.
“STRIKE ME NOW!”
good the grizzled warrior thought I kill him get some land from the higher ups probably be in bed by nightfall he moved in to attack when Gold lightning erupted from the sky and smashed into the young prince and his protector sending them both flying away.
A man next to him swore
“damn the gods actually are listening even if it’s a fool like that one”
The veteran warrior looked at the man who spoke than the still smoking remains of the once prince.The gods are listening he thought,well it couldn’t hurt.he looked to the sky and shouted
“WELL COULD YA GIVE US A SIGN OR SOMETHING...?”
“Hell’s”
The Knight awoke to ringing in his ears and the smell of burned hair in his nose.as he rolled over to retrieve his sword.something happened as he grabbed it.The blade had transformed,what was one a rather sharp but boring broadsword had become a golden blade that shown a near blinding light.The hilt was now all black with curved line of silver trailing to the pommel.he lifted the sword high to examine the peculiar pommel was it a dragon he thought no that can’t be right it looks like a lion but it has wings odd his thought trailed off as he realized it was eerily quiet.as he looked to the armies he witnessed a horror.
Everyone was kneeling...to him.
*Hell’s* the King thought.
| 2018-10-25T22:01:51 | 2018-10-25T21:15:19 | 63 | 37 |
[WP] This is… awkward to say the least. Your roommate just frantically confessed that they’re demonic royalty, and that they need a fiancé to meet their parent, the monarch of Hell, who will be here in under an hour. | Curved horns, grey skin, six-fingered hands, split tail...yep, my roommate just proved her claim and transformed into a demon. She looked imposing enough to be royalty, too.
"Well fuck, I know I'm not on anything today. Guess I should run with it."
"Run with it?!" Eis (no, Eisheth, what the hell) shouted. "My mom is going to be here in less than an hour, and if you don't take this seriously she'll kill us!" Eis started pacing like a caged tiger.
"Literally?"
"Probably! I don't want to find out! Will you help me or not?"
"Alright, yes, I'm going to do what I can to impress mommy-dearest." I paused, and grinned before asking, "Hey, did you bump up your chest size in human form?"
"Go change, asshole!" Her tail lashed, knocking over some of the dishes she left on the coffee table. She yelped, then turned to clean up the mess with a mutter curse as I slipped into my room.
Thankfully, I had been keeping up with my laundry and had my suit all ready to go. 15 minutes from comfy to complete, shoes and all. As I walked out she seemed surprised to see me dressed. I could hear her mutter, "How did he do that?" as I was wondering how she cleaned up all of her disasters in the same amount of time.
"Okay," she said, before gesturing to herself with some kind of spell. There was a flash of heatless fire and Eis was wearing the most unusual dress I've ever seen. The colors of it complemented her skin tone wonderfully, even if I couldn't describe their hue, and the shape seems ill-fitting until she adjusted her tail's placement within the fabric. We sat on the couch and she asked, "What questions can I answer quick for you?"
"What is your mom's name?"
She paused to think, and then said, "She is Agrat bat Mahlat, but it should be alright for you to call her Agrat when I introduce you to her as such."
"Are they any behaviors that I should be wary of, that may have a meaning I wouldn't want to accidentally send?"
"Thankfully, no, since the meeting isn't occurring at home. Should we be trapped into a visit there, I will make sure that you're fully prepared ahead of time."
"I sure as hell hope it doesn't go past this," I said as I made a face. "I distinctly remember you were against living with me until you found out I was ace."
She snorted, and a puff of flame came out of her nose. "Oh no no, there's no pressure to...eh, consummate the union. We theoretically could even agree to a relationship of any value of openness. You won't have to worry about that in even the worst-case scenario.
I rolled my eyes at her choice of words. "Fine, fine, but this better be it. I can't imagine what your mom would do if she found out you were trying to deceive her, and the more meetings that happen the more likely she'll see it."
Eis somehow paled further as the thought crossed her worried face. As she opened her mouth to respond, all the candles in the room lit with a flame impossibly-black. "She's arriving! I'll cast the receiving gate."
Eisheth stood and began to move her arms and tail in sync as she rocked her head in a silent and short rhythm. A dark passageway formed in my living room, and from it a small imp appeared. He announced, "Agrat bat Mahlat," and stepped back as a seven-foot-tall succubus glided in the room. She was dressed in an otherworldly elegance, mostly a complementary red to her dark skin-tone, and had 3 small horns on each side of her head. It took a moment for Adam to notice that she had three golden eyes, but Agrat quickly blinked and suddenly she only had two.
Agrat turned towards Eisheth, and they exchanged greetings in a language that gave him a strange headache. Switching to English, Eisheth said, "And this is my fiancé, Adam."
"It's a pleasure to meet you Adam. What a strong and handsome name," she responded as she offered me her hand. As I took it, I could see the glint in her eye and I knew that she saw right through Eisheth's deception.
But I wasn't dead yet, curiously enough, and I wanted to see where this would go. | "OK, so what you're telling me is ur gonna have to wear a frilly dress even though they make you dysphoric, pretend that ur dating me, and convince ur homophobic, conservative mom that im a good partner for the prince of hell?" Texted Tissues, sitting on his bed while texting Trophy, who was at the mall buying a dress and stilettos... And a wig that matched his original hair color, jet black.
Although he wore skirts occasionally, dresses were the worst for him. When he had came out to his parents, they forced him to wear a dress every day, despite his protests , thus making dresses bring back bad memories and dysphoria.
"Well, yes. ill be back in a sec, k? look presentable or smthn like that" Trophy texted back, walking outside the mall, dreading the next few hours of his already terrible life.
"Ya know, you don't have to do this. You could just, I don't know, flip them off. " Said Tissues, adjusting his tie for a suit he had bought three years ago, and somehow still fit.
"Flip off the literal MONARCH of HELL? I THINK NOT!" Said Trophy, walking out of the bathroom in that dress, "That could get me, you, and possibly a bunch more killed!"
"Fine, I'll do it, but if something goes wrong, I'm blaming you. " Sighed Tissues, holding back a sneeze.
The door to their room knocked, and Trophy went up to open it "HI mom! How was life in hell?" Said Trophy, putting on a fake grin. "Nothing much, dear, now could I see your fiance?" Said Gold, the monarch of hell... And Trophy's mom.
Tissues heard what Gold had said, and quickly stood up and walked over to Trophy's side. "Here I am, Ms. Gold!" He said, putting on a fake grin as well, "Your daughter's a wonderful fiance!" Trophy's eye twitched at the word 'Daughter'. "Well, that's good, but what I want ot know is if you're a good fiance. " Said Gold, walking in.
Gold walked around the room, and saw the decoration the two had put up their. There wasn't much to look at, since the pictures that were usually hanging up on the wall were token down, as most of them featured Trophy as his preferred gender, and he couldn't have his parents think he was disobeying them.
"Well your room looks formal, now I'll ask your fiance a few questions." Stated Gold, sitting down on the bed and scooting uncomfortably close to Tissues. "So what job do you work?" "Uhmm, CVS. I get like $15 an hour. " ...Well that was a bad start, but maybe the white-haired boy could provide protection for her little girl "How strong are you? Could you try lifting one of those weights over there?" She said, pointing to the area with weights nearby the window. "OK uhmm..." Tissues walked over to the weights, and picked up the largest one he could find... Or, he at least tried to pick it up. Tissues stumbled and fell with the weight, and when he tried to get up, he sneezed allover gold and her outfit.
"... Who is this sickly excuse of a partner!?!? And why did you thinkt he was a good one?!??!" Screamed Gold, accidently knocking over the cabinet where Trophy stored his photos. "MOM NO-!" Said Trophy, trying to stop his mom from looking at the pictures, but it was too late. She picked up one of them, and as soon as the saw the boy in the frame, smiling, she rumpled it up and stomped over to her 'kid'.
"I come here ALL the way from the deepest depths of hell, only for you to be pretending to be a boy and dating | 2022-10-09T02:53:50 | 2022-10-08T20:49:21 | 52 | 16 |
[WP] You are a lawyer defending your client, who has been accused of murder. You want to see them found not guilty, since they are a good person and you KNOW they are innocent. After all, you are the murderer yourself. | We exchange a knowing glance before being led into the courtroom. This was part of the deal, after all. I was here to attempt to defend him and keep him out of jail.
He saved my life all those years ago in that desert, so I owed him more than I could ever repay in one lifetime. Only reason he was on trial and not me is that seemed to be the best way to keep it air tight.
We’re going to have a tough time, considering the circumstances, but his alibi was legitimate. I also made sure to “rig the scene” with some plausible, yet inadmissible evidence for the blame to shift towards an acquaintance of the ‘victim’. You see, we didn’t actually want *anyone* to go to prison for this.
After the desert we made a pact to never use our ‘skills’ for wrong nor could we allow anyone to suffer at our hands. We did some vigilante work after the military, always going after criminals. Some of it was paid, some was free of charge.
This? This was personal. He decided to settle down and leave the old ways so he could raise a family. I started putting my education to good use. We even lost touch for a while in spite of all we’d been through.
Then I got the phone call. His daughter had been out on a date when the shitbag’s older brother showed up to their car up on Lover’s Lane. The older brother told the younger one to leave, then he had his way with the girl and dumped her out of a moving car.
She survived, but not without a lot of damage, both mental and physical. I was called in because he knew I’d get the job done with the right balance of vengeance and swift death. I asked if she wanted to be involved, but we agreed to just place screens up with her photographs so he’d *KNOW* why he was being eliminated from this world.
It didn’t take long, turns out those types are a lot weaker mentally than they try to convey. In fact, it took about the same amount of time for the judge to throw out the case. The alibi checked out, and the judge might’ve had some favors performed for him by a couple of Ex-Mil types 15 years ago... | He graduated top of his class and before he knew it entered the chaos of New York with firms to chose from. Plucked up into an associate role, he worked case after case, simple civil claims to big corporate cases. As soon as he bought in as a partner, he decided it was time to take cases on the side. Murder cases always interested him, but they were never where the money was. Money was in celebrities, companies, expensive law suits. Risk. There was no risk in a murder case, the victim was always dead and now it was about making sure your client could be defended, guilty or not.
Of course, already a partner, and only taking the occasional case he had too much time. More time than he'd have in his entire life. No more studying. No more work, just simple management and occasionally the trial or deposition. He had to take up a hobby, while initially that was the murder defence, he found that as he became more enthralled in it. He began to see the thrill. He picked his targets carefully, people no one would miss, people with no family, isolated people. In a city of nearly 8 million he laughed to realise most of those men and women were completely alone.
His latest victim was a manager at a well established cafe. The manager was known to be meticulously and widely hated, especially by the staff. A simple killing. He smoked on the roof, it took a simple push. Days of stalking carefully paid off.
Of course, the next thrill came in the form of a young man with rich parents.
'I didn't do it. Yes I hated him but I wouldn't kill him"
It was unfortunate. The man lived in the same building as his boss. The interest was there, the motive, obvious. A hard case, but finally something fun to do, a challenge. | 2019-05-19T04:44:40 | 2019-05-19T03:42:28 | 275 | 52 |
[WP] Soul mates are real and technology has finally allowed for detection of some peoples “other half" at the speed of light using quantum messaging. When you were tested there was no response, now 10 years later you are called in to let you know a response has just arrived.
thats all you get to go on, can be born years apart, could be distance, could be missing soul, whatever you want.
theme, setting and genre all up to you.
*"technology" can be magic, natural human empathy, gods, whatever. | It's been 7 long years since you left me. The counselor told me that the pain would become more manageable. With time. And sometimes I think maybe it will. Then I'll hear the creak of the floorboards, and expect to see you shuffling into the room as you did, that beautiful smile on your face making my heart skip a beat, as it always did. But you're not there. And then I'm back, back in that damn hospital room, the doctors surrounding your bed, telling me it's time to say goodbye.
I still get the paper every morning, bright and early, before you get up, so I can have it ready for you when you wake up. I've been reading about this new fangled technology that apparently allows you to find your soul mate, your companion through the journey of life. Well, I already knew who my soul mate was, so they wouldn't be able to find mine. Not anymore. But they were offering to pay for people to come out and try it, and it sure beat sitting at home all day.
So I went up to the University, and go into this dark room, way underground. I tell him you ain't going to find my soul mate, she's not with us anymore, and they offer a sympathetic smile, and tells me they've never not found anyone yet. He don't believe me. I don't bother to argue though. He's young, he'll learn he doesn't know everything yet.
So he sits me down, and tells me to put my hand in this machine, and I'd be able to know my companion right away. I put my hand in, and didn't need no damn scientist to tell me what I already knew.
No match.
That scientist could not believe it. He calls in another scientist, then another. They keep making me do the test. Still nothing. Other people do it, and they all get results. But not me.
Cos I knew it was you. How could it not be. 7 years since you took your final journey, and my soul aches to be with you again. I'll be right beside you soon. Just waiting for my time right now.
----
10 years since I stuck my hand in that machine, and they come knocking on my door, all excited. They told me I'm the only person they've never found a match for, but they'd made improvements. Now it could locate your companion for you.
So back I go, stick my hand in the machine. Ping.
A match.
They start talking excitedly. They give me an address to go to. I'm numb. How can this be? There can't ever be anyone else like you. All I can do is go to that address and prove them wrong.
So I walked into that room where she was waiting for me. Hand trembling, ready to prove those know-it-all scientists wrong, I went in. I saw her, sitting there. And what do you know, they were right. I'd felt that way once before. That feeling of completeness when you know everything is right. Not quite the same. A little different than it was with you. But not dissimilar. I'd found someone else.
She moved in with me shortly afterwards, and wasted no time in sharing my bed with me. Although she now probably think's of it as hers, and she'd probably be right. I don't even go for the paper alone in the morning, she comes with me. But it's more than that. The way her eyes light up when I walk into the room, joy written all over her face.
The pain of losing you is still sometimes unbearable. But she's there for me when it gets too bad, dragging me back from the dark places when the memories walk our house too much.
It may not replace the hole in my heart which came with your passing. But a dog's what I need right now. Until I join you my love. | We used to play as kids that we got our messages and they were from our crushes, the girls would swoon and the guys would try and run. We would put our names in a hat and one by one we would grab a name, pairing everyone up.
That was when we were kids. I'm 26 now and no response. No messages, no info, just silence.
Why? Yeah that was my first question too. No one knows, apparently "it just happens" is a good enough response.
I made front page news, on the cover of news channels and on every E-Reader was my interview of how I felt about it all. That was 5 years ago. It had been 5 years since I was "matched".
You get matched when you're 16, its up to you to decide whether to go for it then or to wait until after you finish school or finish banging all the chicks you ever wanted. Whatever, your prerogative no one would ask you why. At least you have a match they said.
For some reason it never really bothered me, it was just intriguing at first. Kind of like I was slightly special. At first it was thought that my soulmate might not of been born yet, its happened before. People have had to wait up to 25 years before for a message.
So when they called me in saying they had information on my match I was pretty excited. Granted it would be odd if she had just turned 16, most likely her parents would wait until she was 21 and done with schooling before being able to contact me but at least I would know.
Waiting in hell holes like this remind me of when I was first here. Mom would always go "We finally get rid of the DMV and now we are back to the same old crap, pffft!" She said a lot of silly things like that.
"Number B5304 at office 6 please."
It is finally time. Fucking ten years leading to this, I'm shaking I realize. Hold yourself together man, just chill.
"Good Morning, my name is Elizabeth." That's nice I think, but I could really care less who you are. I introduce myself anyways. I feel like I'm about to throw up.
"Well we got a message for you, looks like you've been waiting awhile so I can guess how excited you are."
Well duh… can we move this along please?
"We wanted to go through some things real quick before we present your match to you. Firstly Soulmates are meant to be together however it doesn't mean that is necessarily the only person you could be with. Of your choosing you could be with anyone! The machine just matches you up with one person and that’s it, you can't be matched again."
"I understand." I really do understand, if she's younger than me then I will have to wait until she is of age. I get it.. but I don’t care, I'll wait forever. I don't want anyone else.
"Now when we got your message back… there was an issue."
Fuck. No.
"You were matched a little while ago actually.. however we had to do some research on the matter."
……..
"Well it seems your match committed suicide shortly after being matched. She died before she ever knew her match. As you know the system only matches once so………"
I can't process this……
| 2015-11-30T12:28:23 | 2015-11-30T09:56:49 | 87 | 58 |
[WP] You run an underground fight club for the supernatural. A new patron approaches you at the end of the night and asks why you don't enter the fights. After explaining you're human the patron looks at you with confusion. "No, you most definitely aren't kid". | “Kid?” I asked, as I scoffed, “Buddy, I’m almost 50 and on top of that, I’ve never had an awakening. No powers, no moment of clarity, no greater calling yadda yadda. So, I dare say I am, 100% certified Grade A, FDA approved human.”
The patron rolled his eyes at me and began to speak in a hushed tone, “Look boss man, I know a River Crosser when I see one, that’s literally my job. To see them. You got something in you and it’s big and nasty and you could be running the ring ON TOP of the business with a load out like yours! Just give it a shot!”
I turned away from him and began wiping down the bar. The people left in the building where mostly regulars, some friends, some amicable strangers, none of them enemies, which makes for good business. I laughed as the self titled “Looker” continued rambling. As I worked my way down the bar picking up glasses and coasters, he continued his speech.
“I know it’s hard to believe especially when you’ve gone your whole life living as human, but you got something no one else has! You crossed the River Styx and lived to tell about it! And when you cross that river, you bring a bit of it with you and the amount of times someones crossed it and came back from it I can count on one hand!” He exclaimed as he raised his three fingered claw.
I burst out laughing at this point and just shook my head. I turned to the folks sitting at the bar.
“Hey guys, get a load of this! This guy thinks I’m not human! Hahahaha! He’s calling me a River crosser! Can you believe that? HAHAHA!!”
Amidst my boisterous laughter, I couldn’t help but notice no one was laughing with me. I stifled myself to a giggle and looked down the bar and saw everyone either staring at me with disbelief or they had their heads turned down avoiding my gaze. One of my longest standing regulars, Farrel, a gray skinned banshee folk, stood up and took a step towards me from the other side of the bar.
He placed a cold, spectral hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eyes and said, “Greg… are you fucking with us right now?”
I dropped the glass I was holding and as it shattered against the floor, I snapped out of my stupor.
“Wha… I mean, no I’m not! You’re telling me it’s true?!” I exclaimed, slightly starting to panic.
Farrel just sighed and shook his head at me. He threw his hands up and started waving everyone away.
“Alright everyone, time to go! Greg and I have a lot to discuss, out out! Shoo, shoo!” | The new patron with his shifty beady eyes grabs you by the arm and takes you to the juice bar staffed with 4 or 5 really hot superheroines who are tossing shakers around like the finalists at last year's best bartender contest. He, she or it whispers in you ear, while motioning to one of the now free barmaids to coming over that he is aware of what your power is, even though you think you're normal. He orders a supergreen shake for you and proceeds to fill you in on what your powers are. You shake your head in disgust after telling you what he seen in his third eye. Could it really be true? You say to yourself...
The barmaid comes back from the blender with a cold green shake she prepared and just when you are gonna say "no thanks" he and a group of members grab you and throw you down on a tabletop. You scream "please don't do this!! I don't want any of this". One of the fellow bar drinkers grabs your head and starts putting in a funnel and looks at you with this look and says "it's better if you just relax, go with it". They funnel down about half of it before you start gagging profusely, wishing this would miraculously all end. They manage to get maybe another quarter of it down and he says "I think it's enough".
Suddenly everyone runs away leaving you free to go as you wish. The floor clears and a path opens to the fight floor, then something crazy starts to happen. You arms start itching and burning, your head shakes violently as the drink starts to take effect. You feel an uncontrollable urge to rip your shirt off and you do, as you do your forearms swell to the size of a sugarbaked hams. Your calf muscles are enlarged also, as you say to yourself "could it be true"? With all the obvious displays of what is happening the crowd starts to chant "Popeye!!, Popeye!!... You head down the path and look around out of your mind, ready to face whatever opponent awaits.
As you prepare to fight you see your wife and children coming out from the opposite corner. They move out of the way and you see a massive cake. Then the whole crowd starts singing "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you!"...
Your eyes water with tears as you realize your family went to all this trouble in surprising you for your birthday. It means so much to have all your friends there to celebrate your big day... | 2022-09-09T09:08:29 | 2022-09-09T00:50:39 | 32 | 23 |
[WP] While cleaning your attic, you find a box of glass balls with names on them. You accidentally drop one, and as soon as it shatters, you hear your neighbor scream. Her husband has dropped dead. | The new house wasn't really what I'd hoped for.
Desperate to move out of my piece-of-crap rental, I'd bid on every house I could get a loan for - anything had to be better than an asshole landlord and a carpet that smelled like piss. If it was my own house, at least I could do something about the carpet.
Sadly, what I won was anticlimactic. It was small, a "fixer-upper", with no yard and a basement leak that felt like it could kill me before I got to do anything about it. Still, I tried to keep my hopes up - better than here, better than here.
I didn't have much stuff, so moving in was almost depressingly easy. I'd never felt aware of just how broke I was until it hit me that I wasn't even moving a bedframe. Within the first week, my meager belongings were strewn in approximately ideal placements, and I finally thought to brave the attic and the basement.
The attic. Oh god, the attitc.
I was skeeved from my first moment in there - it was more of a crawl space, and my history of claustrophobia didn't do any wonders. Some schmuck had left a Oujia board, and beyond that, there was a large cardboard box coated in "FRAGILE - DO NOT BREAK!" stickers.
Getting it back down the ladder was hard, and I had to admit, I was curious. I bounced the box against my hip as I very slowly went down the ladder, and then the lid flopped open, a small glass ball rolling off the top - it almost looked like a pile of bubbles, from some child's bath.
'Eileen', the ball read, and then smashed on the floor.
I didn't think anything of it for a while - when I set the box down, there were more balls like that, with names and addresses. Fucking creepy, sure, but what was I to do about it? I texted my friend Sam about it, and her and I had a laugh over it while I sat on my floor, slurping Chinese takeout from boxes.
And then the ambulances arrived.
See, I've always been good at putting two and two together. Eileen's ball, I realized, from the shards I frantically put together, had the address of my neighbors on it. Her official cause of death was a heart attack from old age. I had the sinking feeling I knew better.
I remembered, then, a ball I'd seen floating near the top - a Daniel, from State Street, who'd tried to roofie my drink and succeeded at Sam's.
I wish I could tell you I felt regret when I smashed his ball on the kitchen floor, or when he died at his football game two weeks later.
Brain trauma, they said. | I gasp at what has occurred, a mere coincidence I think to myself. Tom, my neighbor's husband, was old and already at risk, so perhaps a heart attack or a stroke. I search around the box for my other neighbor's name. I find it and think to myself, "Should I do this?"
I slowly bring the small, blue, glass marble to my face. I take a long look at it, it is her favorite color. I argue with myself over whether or not I should drop the marble. I decide to pocket it and leave for their house. Once I reach the doorstep I ring the doorbell.
Shelly opens the door, "Is there anything I can do for you?" she asks with a fake smile, as if I came over for sugar for the 3rd time today (which may or may not have been true).
I look up at Shelly, my neighbor, and slowly reveal the marble. I show the perplexing, spherical ball of glass to her and say, "Would this mean anything to you?" all while tossing it between my hands.
"No, why? Why does it have my name on it and where did you get this?" she says, as I miss the catch. She looks on in abject horror as it slowly, as if it was as light as a feather, drops onto the floor and shatters.
I watch as she slumps onto the door frame, life leaving her eyes. I make a comment out loud, only god can hear me now, "So it would seem."
I quickly run over to my house, suddenly seems bright and glorious compared to my usual dull life of eat, work, sleep. I run up the stairs, up to the small attic. As I walk up the pull-out stairs, I decide I do want to go through with this. I get to the box and kneel down, inspecting it. As I grab the box, a sudden thought hits me, "Why?"
I realize that there is no answer and continue with my plan. I open up the attic window and crawl out to the roof, box between my arm and side. I yell out to the world so that everyone may know my actions today, "Fuck you bitches!"
I throw the box of lives onto the sidewalk, pedestrians watching with amusement and curiosity. Unaware of whether or not my life has been included, I jump. | 2019-11-03T23:23:28 | 2019-11-03T22:48:27 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] You are a normal person who spent your entire life infiltrating the evil Empire. You even became the Emperor's right hand. The day before you finally topple the Empire, the hero arrives, kills the Emperor, and saves the day.
Now how does that make you feel? | Finn stared, first in disbelief then in annoyance, as a crossbow bolt flew like quicksilver across the room, directly into the Lord Sovereign's chest, killing him instantly. Finn continued to stare as the strands of magic tying the golems around the room dissipated as the source drew its last breath.
Was that it?
"Haha! With that, his rule is over and done! Finally, all those that lived in his tyranny can find peace without fear!" exclaimed Fetter, the assassin-turned-hero. "All those nights of planning, the hours spent and the blood spilt gathering the right materials to craft the perfect poison, the friends I had to make to get past his guards and fortifications! Delirious numbers of traps and even these blasted golems!" he continued, punctuating his statement with a kick to one of the fallen sentries. Fetter stood there, face beaming, exulting in his success for another moment before noticing Finn.
"Ah. You are his Right Hand, yes?"
"Was, I think, is the more apt descriptor now Sir Fetter," Finn said casually, "and what, might I ask, do you plan to do now?"
If Fetter was taken aback at Finn's nonchalance he did well to hide it as he lowered his crossbow and began walking through the room, picking his way around each golem, meticulously checking that each was disabled.
"I think that answer is obvious; I'll dissolve the rest of his court - what few will remain when word spreads of his death - and setup a cleaner group to take care of the affairs of the kingdom."
"And you will... What, take the throne in the interim? Rule in his stead and be a good king until all affairs have been seen to and you can go home?" asked Finn, incredulous.
Fetter laughed, his tone teasing but sincere to Finn's ears, "Hah! Wouldn't that be perfect? But no, I've seen what power does to those who have it and I'll stick to my other vices if it's all the same to you. I'm sure you would have relished the chance to serve another king, be the Right Hand again, but you'll have to settle with a place as an equal to others."
Finn nodded slowly, thinking, as Fetter finished his circuit of the room. He had come to stop just before the rather plain throne and was pulling the bolt from the corpse of the late king. It came away nicely, pulling the body to the floor along with it as Fetter slumped into the throne seat, exhaustion catching up with him during the aftermath. He was older than he looked, Finn thought, and the fight through the castle had taken it's toll. His leather armour stuck to him from a handful of deep cuts, and his breathing grew ragged now that adrenaline was no longer pumping.
Finn pursed his lips, suddenly filled with dread and guilt. He opened his mouth and began to speak, "Fetter, get up qui-"
It was too late.
"Saints, Finn. If nothing else, this venture's shown me I'm too old for these things any more," Fetter said, voice straining as he loosed the straps of his breastplate. His face broke into a grin as the straps gave way, "A cool bath and a long rest is all the reward I want these days, bahahah!"
The strands of magic that had faded away when the bolt struck the Lord Sovereign's chest suddenly sprang to life, flying from the wound in the king's chest to the arms of the throne. They wove quickly around Fetter's arms, binding him.
"Monster! What trick is this?!" Fetter screamed as he strained against the madical bindings, thrashing his head back as his muscles tensed and pulled. The strands coiled their way up his arms and through his armour, covering every inch of him as they worked their way into his mouth, cutting Fetter's cries short. Fetter's body spasmed, bones cracking, as the strands' magic changed him.
It took only a minute for the process to finish and after it was complete the Lord Sovereign sat upon the throne once more, imperious.
"Finn; please have the guards take the remains of the last body to the crematorium and call the magisters to the throne room, the golems will need to be re-bound."
Fetter was better than most, thought Finn: competent enough to breach the walls, navigate the traps and best the golems and even good in a kind of simple, pragmatic way. Yet, still, he had been neither as studious nor as thorough as Finn had. The Lord Sovereign had been killed before by a skilled assassin and had, then as now, come back to life through the grace of those cursed strands. They bound the entity that called itself the Lord Sovereign to the body of any who sat on the throne, subsisting off of the borrowed form until another came along. Finn had figured this out by scrounging through the Lord Sovereigns massive library, spending years of sleepless nights dedicated to the research. Even then, it wasn't until the last time the Lord Sovereign had been killed that Finn had been able to piece together what he'd read. He hadn't kept this information from Fetter on purpose, Fetter just hadn't let him explain. Storybook Heroes never listened after the "final" blow had been struck, too, but he'd never imagined a real life hero would be so callous.
Finn sighed inwardly, bowing, "Of course, my Lord."
((Edit: Spelling and names.)) | "Good job breaking it, hero," I managed to spit out through the blood and half-missing, mangled flesh that was my right cheek.
"What? Emperor Tranithis Rex lies dead by my hand. I have won the day!"
"No, Arctus, you haven't. Tranithis has ruled for over 2000 years, without pause or sizeable opposition. Didn't you consider that before your plucky revolution made its way to the palace? You're just plucky revolution #35. You're glamorous, well-toned hero #73. You'll be name lost to history as the emperor purges every reference to you, your family and all your friends, save those in his personal logbook, #5321. You've also strengthened his defenses against future incursions and broken the only weapon that can destroy his physical body in the epic battle to the death that preceded this. Did you really need to throw the sword into the fucking volcano with him?!"
I was incensed. Years of planning went into this. I knew when the next revolution would attempt and fail to dislodge Tranithas. I had set the guards on the schedule exactly opposite their plans to infiltrate the fortress here atop Mount Flegathon. I had ensured that the volcano had been prepped with a ritual that would raise lava and heat levels to the point necessary to destroy the wards on his body and cauterize the wounds from the blade; this was the only way to kill him.
Then Artus the Dimwitted showed up. Never the brightest hero, I thought his brother, Severus Darkbane would be leading the charge. He was, but apparently was felled in combat by a rogue arrowshot in battle two weeks ago. Severus and I had an understanding. Severus knew my story and the plan. He knew I was here only to avenge the destruction of my village at the beginning of the emperor's long reign. He knew I had sold my soul, and the ruler-ship of the kingdom to the strongest of the demons of the hells to learn the secrets needed to compromise the emperor's wards and turn the volcano, the source of his power, into the source of his undoing. His brother knew none of this, and thought stabbing the bastard would kill him. Artus had lived up to his name.
"Arctus, I'M ON YOUR SIDE!!! BEFORE YOU STRODE IN HERE LIKE A BIG DUMB DOOFUS, WE HAD A PLAN IN PLACE TO KILL THE FUCKING EMPEROR. THAT SWORD DESTROYS HIS BODY BY SAPPING IT OF THE ENERGY GIVEN TO HIM BY THE FIRE OF THE VOLCANO. BY THROWING IT IN THERE, YOU HAVE MERGED HIS LIFE FORCE WITH THE BLADE, AND THUS THE VOLCANO. THE VOLCANO WHOSE POWER IS THE SOLE DOMAIN OF BELPHEGOR, DEMON LORD OF FLAME, AND THE EMPEROR'S BOSS!"
In the undeniably terse exchange, Arctus and I had failed to notice that the volcano keep's lavaplume fireplace had just been host to the arrival of a new figure. In all the chaos, I had forgotten that the last part of our plan, the reason I needed Severus at all, had come to claim his due.
"Ahem. Am I interrupting something?"
"Belphegor...you're early."
"Yes, I am. I got wind of your little scheme to absorb the emperor's power into the blade, then use that to lure me here for the binding ritual necessary to lock us both away for eternity. I gave him the powers that sustained him. Did you really think I wouldn't look into your motivations, Vasyk? Now, kill him for me, Arctus. I wish to have my... I mean your place on the throne secured for all time."
And with that, Arctus put an arrow through my heart. The last thing I saw was that stupid, gaping grin he always had on his face.
*Moments later, back in Hell*
"You know Vasyk, you really shouldn't have tried to screw me like that. You've known me for long enough to know I always do my due diligence on infernal contracts. The old "use the one weapon of power to imprison both ancient evils" trick? It's the oldest one in the book. Your vengeance line didn't hold up on inspection, considering you had plans to off me too. Too bad Severus trusted his little brother Arctus so much that he let him in on the details of the plan. Arctus really hated being in his brother's shadow, you know?"
"So, eternal torment then, Belphegor?"
"Not really. It would be a waste of your top-notch administrative skills, and Arctus can't run a cheap tavern, let alone a vast empire. No, you'll return as his infernal advisor, ensuring my will be done from now until the end of time. Thanks to selling me your soul, I have your true name to hold against you this time around."
"Well fuck. A promotion."
| 2017-03-12T13:41:06 | 2017-03-12T12:55:51 | 89 | 64 |
[WP] You see the Grim Reaper and ask if it's your time. Death checks a clipboard and says "Nope. Looks like you're not due for another... three thousand, one hundred and forty-one years? That's weird. Also, how can you see me?" | One day, on my 18th birthday, on my way to school, I saw an old lady sitting on a park bench, watching her grandchildren playing in the park. I felt happy, knowing that no matter how much darkness is in the world, there is always something good to brighten up your day. But then I saw something behind her. At first, it was blurry and dark, but then it started to materialize until it was perfectly clear what it was. The Grim Reaper.
I didn’t know what came over me, but I just walked right up to him. I was scared out of my mind!
I secretively whispered to him, “what are you doing here?”
He seemed surprised by me talking to him. He looked around and said, “well, I’ve been following this woman all day, she will be dead anytime soon.”
I wanted to run away, but my legs wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t move.
Out of curiosity I decided to ask, “is it my time yet?”
To my surprise, he answered my question, “Nope, looks like you’re not due for another...” he took out a clipboard and skimmed through the papers. He found something and pointed his finger on it. “... three thousand, one hundred, and forty- one years? That’s weird. Also, how can you see me?”
I asked, “can’t everyone see you? I just assumed everyone could when I saw you standing there.” I was confused. “Well, now that I think about it, that is weird. If people saw you, they’d try to avoid you to not die.”
Death just looked at me, right in the face, making direct eye contact. I saw his sunken, almost empty-looking eyes, and felt a cold shiver go through my whole body. I felt uncomfortable.
Without even saying goodbye, I walked away. I tried to ignore what had just happened, but I felt his cold, dark eyes, still staring into me, into my soul. I heard a strange noise behind me, like the slash of a blade. I knew that the Grim Reaper has harvested a soul, and the old lady was dead.
In front of me, in a puff of ash and smoke, Death had appeared in front of me, in his dark cloak of suffering. I was frightened. I didn’t like this. I wanted to get out of here.
Suddenly, everything went dark. When I woke up, I was in a dark, warm area. As I regained my conscious, it got warmer and warmer, until it felt as if I was drowned in boiling water.
“Who are you?” Asked the voice of the Grim Reaper.
“Cole. My name is Cole Silverhorn.”
“Another Silverhorn? I thought they were gone.” I heard him cursing to himself, obviously frustrated and possibly disappointed. “What species— what race are you?”
I replied quickly, “human. Just a human. What else would I be?”
“Okay, maybe he is just hallucinating. Do we have any forgetful potions?” I heard him rambling and arguing with himself. “How do I clear this up? This is impossible. I’ll just leave him. He might think it was a dream. Perfect!”
He then turned to me, with a hopeful grin on his pale face. “Goodnight! See you this morning! Or, not. I’m not going to let you see me. Bye-bye!”
He snapped his fingers, and pink glittery particles came off of his hand, flying like dust. Once again, it was dark.
_____________________________________________
WC: 567 words
If this gets enough upvotes (like 30+), I will make a part two, and put a link here. I have a very interesting idea for the ending. So please upvote it!
[Read part 2!!!](https://www.reddit.com/r/stories/comments/fel0h8/the_life_of_cole_silverhorn_part_2/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) | \[English not first language\]
It took him a long time to open his eyes, so long, in fact, that I thought he might be dead. We were deep into the mountain, and the rescue team that I had called in was still quite far.
He looked up and saw the cliff from which we had fallen. Confusion filled his eyes, and then pure disbelief, as he mustered between heavy breaths and groans, "How the hell are we alive?". For a few minutes, I didn't say anything.
&#x200B;
The first time I saw her I didn't know what she was.
I was about 8 years old, and we were traveling for the holidays. It was already dark outside, and I was looking through the window when we passed next to a car accident and had to slow down. The intricate geometry of the crushed car body always hijacked my attention, how such a solid and heavy metal could wrinkle like the inside of the bags of potato chips. However, this time, I didn't linger on those details for long: close to the car, barely illuminated, there was a body. Or at least, that's what I guessed it was, that little thing in a strange position with faded fabrics and earthy colors and dark stains. But more importantly, right next to it, a dark and imposing figure watched. I could only look at it for a glimpse of a second, but I'm pretty sure it looked back at me. Time stopped.
"Don't look!" said my mom, noticing a little late what her daughter was witnessing. And those words could well have been a spell, because, just like that, the imposing figure had disappeared.
When my grandma was dying, I saw her again, twice in fact. First, she approached her in her room. I was napping in a couch nearby, and a very cold breeze woke me up. I opened my eyes slowly, and there she was, gently crouching over her. Startled, I quickly sat, bringing my arms to my chest.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" I spit.
Again, she looked at me, two grey dots in a dark cloak, and disappeared.
The next time, I saw her from the living room, leaving my grandma's room, rushed, almost fleeing. Grandma was dead.
That was when I understood. So when we fell and I woke up here and I saw her, I thought I knew what was happening. I looked at you and your eyes were closed, and I said: "Please, tell me you are coming for me".
She looked at me. Her expression reminded me of when people hold their breath.
"No".
My stomach dropped.
She slowly approached you and started bending over. Without even thinking it I screamed "No! No, you can't take him! I forbid you!".
She stopped moving. I though maybe she was going to take me too, out of resentment. But instead, she turned, and said: "As you wish, my Lady".
She started walking away and fading.
"Stop!" I managed to scream. "Why did you say that? And why am I not dead either?".
She responded as she disappeared, her voice like a vanishing trace.
"I can't tell you, my dear. But it seems you still have three thousand, one hundred and forty-one years left. So don't worry, we'll have plenty of meetings to sort it out. "
&#x200B;
When I finished speaking, I looked at him, nervous for his reaction. He was sleeping. | 2020-01-24T16:18:18 | 2020-01-24T14:14:12 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] Humanity has a low-key Hivemind that was the origin of the “sixth sense”. When another gestalt entity attempts to invade earth, the Hivemind fully awakens. | It was a gradual change. It went unnoticed at first, save the fact things began to improve for us. People who previously couldn't give a toss, stopped for a moment. A child's birthday party brightened the mood of those around. A funeral caused passersby to bow their heads. But ever time someone slept, the connection opened a little more.
Soon, everyone across the globe was sharing emotions. It was interesting, as whilst we all felt each others, we knew where our experience ended and the Hives began. That is what it was dubbed. The Hive. Some panicked, and some tried to distance themselves. But most of us accepted it.
It was a global web of empathy, which in part reduced crime. Why should someone feel like their only choice was to steal, when the people around would feel their hopelessness, and be driven to help. We wanted to all feel positive, and so many negatives were lost.
Then, our thoughts began to leak out. This caused more of a panic, as our minds were no longer safe. But even that soon passed, as it was realised that brain power could be used together. Think tanks became incredibly well oiled machines, thinking in synchronicity. Knowledge was shared, and truths came out.
It was known as the Year of Awakening. By the end, we worked as one. We worked to help each other, and we did without complaint, knowing none of us were alone. That is, until we found individuals who weren't part of the Hive.
They were detained, and interrogated. People from around the world shared in the interrogation, their combined brain power seeing through lies and deceit. These individuals were found to be drones of another gestalt. It saw our planet as easy pickings.
We removed them, no guilt felt as humanity cried out for unity in protection. Working as one, we constructed defences, to protect from the coming invasion. And invade they did, this alien consciousness demanding our planet and our subservience.
But they numbered far fewer then our combined population. We tore through them, both physically and mentally. We wielded sharpened thought and explosive emotions, reducing them to broke remains mentally, and corpses physically.
In time, we drove them back. This was our planet, and they could not have it. We used their broken ships to create our own, and ascended to the stars. No longer as single people, but together, as one. | “We received a boon, a long time ago,” said Anne, curling her graying hair around her index finger.
“Yeah? And how do you know?” said Twitch.
“I’ve always known. And so have you. And so has every man, woman and child on earth.”
She released the springy curl and pointed to the sky. Oily pink and purple clouds swirled.
“Can you hear the sky screaming? Not with your ears - with your soul.”
Twitch could indeed. It had all the pressure of a physical scream - the visceral churning in his gut, the urge to scream back, fight-or-flight fully triggered. His hair stood on end and he desperately needed to piss.
“Yes,” he said.
“It is screaming,” Anne said. “And it’s been screaming out there in the void for aeons. We’re only just now hearing it.”
“That’s the sixth sense you were talking about?” Twitch said.
“Indeed. That...thing out there isn’t the first time some colour out of space has tried to take our world.”
“So - there was a good thing, like that thing up there? A long time ago?”
“There is no such as good or evil. There’s only attentive and indifferent. That thing up there may not even know our world is in its wake. It doesn’t care. It doesn’t know what caring entails. But something did, long ago. And it gave the rising race of Earth a way to scream back at the vast, uncaring universe. A warning signal, you might say.”
“How do we trigger it?” Twitch said. “How do we make...that...go away?”
Anne closed her eyes.
“It will happen, no matter what. It’s been a part of our DNA for millions of years now. The question is - when we scream at the void, when we give it our primordial all - what will be left?” | 2021-01-26T11:07:04 | 2021-01-26T10:51:28 | 51 | 17 |
[WP] You are a well-respected Villain. You caused only necessary minor Damages, you never purposefully took a life, and you made sure to keep a strict Code when dealing with civilians. But for some reason, some of the younger Newbie Heroes seem to think you are Evil Incarnate | Usually one is awoken to the blinding of a golden glow filling their bedroom on a sunny morning, or the consecutive noise of fighting and squawking birds on a colder one. Today however I was awoken to soft and harsh whispers, and when opening my eyes I was not in my bed, but tied to a chair with three pairs of eyes glistening at me.
“Good, your awake” the tallest who was stood to left spoke, with shaggy brown hair and eyes to match.
“Great observation, you wouldn’t happen to be Sherlock reincarnated would you ?” I queried, looking at whom I assumed to be one of my capturers.
He scoffed, crossing his arms and buffing out his biceps to the best of his abilities. “Last I checked, this wasn’t a stand up comedy show”
“Your right, I’m sitting!” I exclaimed, harshly gesturing to the chair I was tied up to with my head.
“Oh you little-“ he began striding toward me, but was then cut of by a girl, who held her arms out in-front of him and glared at him as she spoke.
“And you’ll stay sitting!” She stated, “we can’t have you out in public, with the danger you are to society!” She exclaimed drastically, throwing her hands around.
“Danger to society ?” I questioned with raised brows, “danger. To. Society?” I repeat, emphasising each word.
“Yes a danger to society, that’s what I said isn’t it?” She queried, “or do you need to get your ears checked, we have insurance”
There was a snigger from the remaining party who was yet to speak, causing all of us to turn and look at him. He didn’t respond but simply shrugged his shoulders, gesturing the girl to go on with his hand.
Before she got the chance I spoke up, “I’m sorry miss…”
“Miss Libo” the girl stated her name, which only made me throw my head back in laughter.
“Miss Libo?” I snigger, “what are you some sort of fancy lube?”
The quiet boy from before laughed again causing Miss Libo to glare at him. “Look,” she started, “your in here as consequence for being a danger to society, so you better pay me respect before I extend your sentence”
“Oh my apologies, your highness” I bow my head in fake respect, “but do you mind elaborating on why I’m in here?”
It was then I realised I still had my wristwatch on, oh what silly people these kids were. With the flick of a wrist, a small knife expanded from the watch and began to quietly cut the rope around my hands as the girl in front of me began to explain why I was in here.
“We know you used to work in the under world!” She stated, “we heard from our parents, they said you ran the place, earning money from others injuries and falling out with a multi million dollar franchise over a bet!”
“Want to write me an auto biography?” I scoff as I felt the rope around my wrists get looser, “Or do you want to get to the point?”
I could tell she was loosing her patience, but just before she could snap at me the quiet boy who couldn’t help but laugh stepped into the light.
With blonde hair swept back neatly and standing only an inch shorter than the other boy I could tell he was the mature one, his suit fitted precisely was an indicator.
“What she’s trying to say is” he spoke with a profound yet deep voice, “we find it suspicious how you left all your troubles behind to start your little, ‘bakery business’” he began, making air quotes when saying bakery business as if it was anything but that.
“And then all of a sudden, the founder of the franchise you fell out with dies of food poisoning because of the bread from your bakery”
I had nothing to say, I find it suspicious too and although it wasn’t on purpose I’m glad it happened because now I can get back out there.
All of a sudden all previous pressure from my wrist was released, letting me know the rope was gone. I stood up and dusted myself down while all three of the hero’s kids looked at me with wide and shocked eyes.
“I guess you’ll have to stay suspicious” I shrug, pressing another button on my wristwatch, causing the room to erupt in smoke.
Before the heroes knew it I was gone. | ***Hashtag "Evil"***
Gentle notes played from the tickled ivories of the grand piano that sat in the center of Paul's Piano Bar in the heart of Star City. A familiar feeling place, filled with familiar looking faces. The most familiar of those faces, Detective Falcona was running late this particular day, happy hour was almost over. She quickly hung up her pork pie hat and trench coat, making a beeline for the bar. A quick hello to the always well put together Victoria and the normal cast of characters in their usual seats. Falcona made her way to her usual spot, the cozy back booth, much to her surprise, it was occupied.
Falcona strode over to the booth, shaking her head in disbelief. "What are you two doing here?" She asked her sister, the city's most famous and powerful superheroine Fuzion, and her brother-in-law Dr. Neutron. Nobody in the city knew the two were hitched, Paul's is neutral ground between the supers and schmucks, nobody batted an eye seeing them sit together.
"Celebrating!" Dr. Neutron's ear to ear grin multiplied the wrinkles on his face, his normally frizzy grey hair slicked back, hazel eyes peered from behind designer safety goggles. Fuzion slumped on the opposite side of the booth, her bright orange hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, her eyes staring for a thousand yards, the green nuclear flames in her pupils simmered with boredom.
Falcona pointed at Dr. Neutron. "Move, you're in my seat. What are we celebrating, why wasn't I informed?" She asked, firmly shoving Neutron to the other side of the booth.
"Why don't you tell her honey? I'm getting tired of repeating myself." Neutron asked smugly.
Fuzion rolled her eyes. "He's trending on twitter."
Falcona mimicked her sister, she couldn't help but roll her eyes as well. "So fuckin what? And for what?" She asked incredulously.
Neutron sipped his dry martini, savoring it. "One of those new little shit supers made a youtube documentary on me. Has seventeen million views in the first twenty four hours. You should check it out, it's amazing! So much misinformation, barely researched, and easily disprovable accusations. My god I knew people were stupid, but this stupid? Damn I love living in the age of misinformation and echo chambers. What more could a schmuck want?" Neutron asked rhetorically.
Falcona lit a smoke. She let the smoke drip from her lips. "So somebody stroked your ego?"
Neutron removed his goggles. "That was a nice plus. This thing really makes me look bad, real evil, exactly the image I've been trying to portray. All this attention though has had a ripple effect. Neutron industries stock rose five points today." Neutron laughed.
"Cheers doc!" Falcona raised her glass of scotch, Neutron followed suit, Fuzion remained slumped over. "What's goin on with her?" Falcona asked, normally the two were on the same wavelength, twin telepathy so to speak.
"She's just mad that her deflecting the meteoroid that was headed straight for the moon isn't the top trending topic today."
Fuzion sighed, "Saved the planet. Without the moon we'd all be screwed, massive devastation, huge loss of life.......just sayin." Fuzion sighed out.
"Sis you save the planet every other week, let doc have this one. Show me the video."
Neutron's miniature projector drone played the video on the table. Doc was right, blatant falsehoods promoted as fact. In Star City, the truth about the supers and the schmucks was much, much stranger than fiction.
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this check out more at r/StarCityChronicles | 2022-12-20T13:51:04 | 2022-12-20T09:05:51 | 163 | 107 |
[WP] Your kind has conquered countless worlds. Your aren't particularly strong, but you have a dirty trick up your sleeve. One which is currently being thwarted for one simple reason. Out of every species you've fought, humans are the only one that doesn't typically eat random crap off the ground. | It was a quiet evening. The planet's single star had disappeared below the horizon leaving a slowly fading glow. To Ther'ok's multilensed eyes, it was prismatic and ethereal. A blanket of gossamer rainbow dragging night across the
sky. She allowed herself a moments' distraction, then returned to the task at hand. *There will be plenty of time for sight-seeing once this world is conquered* she mused. In truth, 'conquered' was a dramatic description for a well oiled procedure, so practiced and refined that it's results were considered a foregone conclusion.
Ther'ok considered the calendar displayed on her suit's HUD with a secondary eye. It had been seven Imperial egg cycles since the submission cocoons had landed on this world; a full twenty of this planet's orbits. Ther'ok absently stroked the barrel of her ceremonial energy rifle with the setae of her auxiliary forelimb. The weapon was ancient, and had likely never been, or ever would be, fired. She sighed in resignation, her respiratory orifices producing a low whistle that was audible even outside of her suit. A notification appeared on her HUD.
"What troubles you, sister-of-my-division?"
"What troubles me is that I am stuck here, with a weapon so old it would have been embarrassing to carry before this planet's species learned to walk. What troubles me, is I am stuck *here*, starring at trees when I could be *out there* being welcomed with open arms by the hu-mes, or whatever they call themselves!"
"Hu-*mans*," Meloo corrected. "Perhaps they didn't want the hu-mans to be kept waiting too long?" Text didn't have the nuance of more direct forms of communication, but Ther'ok didn't need it to recognize the mockery in Meloo's reprimand.
"I don't oversleep *that* much."
"Enough to get the 'priviledge' of forest sentry duty on Conquest Day." The comment was followed by an emojii signifying mirth.
"I still think Jeval'a made that up." Ther'ok countered. "Anyway, might I remind you that you're stuck here with me."
"I *asked* for this duty" Meloo replied. "Celebrations are tedious. Anyway, *Commander* Jeval'a can make up whatever the hell she wants. She does have full operational oversight."
"Operational oversight my thorax," Ther'ok snorted. "The submission cocoons did all the real work. The mammals will be falling over each other to please her." The thought of a bunch of hairy quadrupeds tripping over themselves in front of her rigid commander was almost funny enough to forget the freeze dried rations Ther'ok would be having at the end of the watch, instead of the celebratory offerings undoubtedly served those who stepped more carefully through Jeval'a's domain.
"About the submission cocoons . . . were any deployed on this landmass?" asked Meloo.
"Of course," said Ther'ok, "It was a, 'Full saturation deployment.'" she quoted while mimicing Jeval'a's starched posture as she sent the message. If Meloo noticed, she gave no sign.
"You're sure? There was no omission?"
"Of course not! You know this better than I." As Ther'ok typed, she turned, facing Meloo on the far side of the forest clearing, and raised her forelimbs in consternation. She was going to follow with *Why are you asking me?* but the words died before she could type them.
There were many ways for a Sister to communicate; text, audible, sign language. The oldest of these was body language. It was primitive, it's vocabulary primordial. It could only be used to communicate the most rudimentary of emotions, but it was easy to understand. Meloo's body language was not that of a sister teasing; it was of a sister being hunted.
"Then where are all the scitterlings?" Meloo's text, combined with her postured, dripped dread. In any other context, Ther'ok might have dismissed the question, but Meloo's fear was too apparent to ignore. *It's also a good question.* Ther'ok realized.
"Could they . . . simply not have reached here?" Ther'ok suggested weakly, knowing the answer before she finished typing the question.
"It's been *seven cycles* since the cocoons arrived. Once released, scitterlings can fully integrate with a biosphere in half that time. They should be *everywhere*."
"But if there are no scitterlings . . ."
"Then the hu-mans wouldn't have the parasite." Meloo finished for her. The unprecedented implication hung between them. Ther'ok wrote first.
"We have to tell Jeval'a the humans are unpacified."
Across the clearing, Meloo signalled acknowledgement. For a few moments she seemed frozen, too far away for Ther'ok to see the rapid movements of her auxiliary limbs and mandibles as she communicated with their superiors. *Could the coccoons have failed in transit?* Ther'ok wondered? It was unheard of, yet here they stood, not a scitterling as far as her eyes or suit sensors could see. *Perhaps a virus, or mayb-* Her thought was interrupted by a flurry of movement.
Meloo, with the speed only a sister is capable of, was sprinting towards their patrol craft. The armored legs of her environmental suit tore up the soft loam of the forest in a mossy spray. The speaker in Ther'ok's suit crackled to life; Meloo was breaching patrol protocol to communicate verbally.
"I can't get through!" Meloo clicked.
"What? How? Are the other teams suffering a similar malfunction?" Ther'ok demanded, alarmed at Meloo's sudden disregard for doctrine.
"I can't get through to *anyone*!" Meloo replied, the normally measured cadence of her speech rising in a panicked staccato.
"But that would require . . ." Ther'ok's mind raced, trying to put impossible pieces together into some intelligible whole. "They would have to be jamming . . . " Finally, understanding dawned upon Ther'ok.
"Oh dear empress, they knew we were coming." | "So, Oooaaauuu, how is it going?"
First Claimer sighed at this question. Of course, Vessel Commander have a right to know about status of ongoing operations, but his timing is just obnoxious. Why he questions Oooaaauuu during his lunch break? Like, isn't working hours exist for, well, work?
"We are only getting started. My teams already planted a few of ghwbs, here and there, to try to lure first targets. They should be finishing right about now. Don't get all nervous now, Eeeaaauuu, all will be fine"
All this time Vessel Commander slithered across the room from wall to wall, don't even trying to hide his anxiety. First Claimer was, to be honest, perplexed by this reaction - Eeeaaauuu was a veteran of Claiming Campaigns, and this one was pretty standard so far. Local dominant species even didn't have any kind of space armaments despite high level industrialisation. So, worrying about it was absurd.
"You see, my friend, I just decided to look into Scout Reports about this planet.... And something bothers me the wrong way. Are you sure ghwbs will work here? I scimmed through a bit of their dominant tribes culture and I think we made a big mistake"
"Don't think about - your job is to be sure sailors will not get drunk out of boredom. Mine is to be sure this operation proceeds smooth... Oh?"
First Claimer's communicator suddenly started ringing. Everyone on his team knows that Oooaaauuu shouldn't be bothered on his lunch time, unless it is something really urgent. He decided to respond, and before he could greet an unfortunate intern who decided to ask a question, a worried voice started talking:
"First Claimer, your presence is urgent in Operational Den! Like, right now! Forget about your lunch and slither here!"
The call was hang up. It was his second in command, Uuuaaaiii - usually a very polite, professional lady. If she acted like this, is was really urgent.
"I think we both should go, eh?"
Said Eeeaaauuu with a worried look in his eyes. Oooaaauuu nodded, and started slithering to Operational Den, leaving his lunch behind.
***
OD was in uproar. Apparently, whole Claiming team was here, even those who had no shifts tonight. When Uuuaaaiii saw them enter, she waved to them:
"Over here! You need to see this"
Glancing at each other, First Claimer and Vessel Commander slithered to the terminal, were worried Uuuaaaiii stood.
On the monitor there was nothing particularly special - one of the big cities of this world, a busy day with a lot of individuals going on their business. The only thing that took Oooaaauuu attention was a placed ghwb.
"Well, that is the problem? To me, it seems like is going by the book"
"This is a recording, Oh the High One. Just watch"
Letting this rudness slide, First Claimer continued to watch the video. When the curious thing happened - one human, in the uniform and with some kind of tool picked up ghwb and... Tossed it in some kind of bin.
"Whaa... What?"
From the reports, he knew these bins were used as trash collectors. For Great Sages sake, why they tossed in it ghwb?!
"And that is not all"
After that, Uuuaaaiii started to show other locations - different continents, different tribes, different cities, different methods - but the result was the same.
Ghwb was counted as trash and tossed aside.
"How.... How could this happen! They are supposed to have the best, the most attractive smell respective to their species! Why they are desposing of it!?!"
"I may know the answer"
To everyone's surprise, this was said by Vessel Commander. He took out his pad from the pouch and started searching something on it.
"You see, while I don't doubt our Scouts, or our Researchers, or our Craftskols, I think this time they overlooked a big aspect - that this species is very heavily biased towards looks, not the smell. You would say that they are not the first one this way, true. But this particular instance is... A bit more intricate. Oh, found it"
With triumphant look on his face, he turned his pad to Oooaaauuu and Uuuaaaiii. On it, was a picture of ghwb.
"You probably thinking that is your regular ghwb. But that is picture from locals world wide network. Curious how it looks so similarly to ghwb, isn't it? Well, the thing is - they use this image too... picture their excrements.
On the pad was a regular ghwb - a spiral object of brown color. And if the same image was used by locals as picture for excrements, when...
"We... We tried to feed them crap?!"
Someone, probably some intern, said the thing that was in everyone minds. Everyone stood silent, no one knew that to say. Finally, the First Claimer spoke:
"The design of ghwb is perfection! It was made in this way for 100% result! We can't easily change it! What should we do with it?!"
Vessel Commander put his pad back into the pouch and looked into the eyes of First Claimer:
"I don't know. After all, I am responsible only for that sailors don't drink too much. It is yours to be sure that this operation proceeds smoothly."
After that, Vessel Commander left the Operation Den, while feeling of despair slowly rose in the First Claimer, the High one Oooaaauuu, who felt as a cornered utk. | 2022-09-20T12:40:57 | 2022-09-20T10:57:08 | 641 | 208 |
[WP] You can heal anyone from any injury or disease, by either taking the affliction on yourself, or passing it onto someone else. You've been using this gift for years, but no one has realized it. | “Bless you, Jason. You’re such a nice boy.”
I smiled warmly and patted Mrs Jenkins’ arm before turned to leave. My fingertips flickered numb momentarily as I Pulled. “Don’t you worry about those tests, Edith. Spry young thing like you should be up in no time.”
The octogenarian laughed delightedly.
“I’ll go check with your doctor for you,” I said and left her to watch her soaps.
The moment I was out of the room, door closed behind me, I steadied myself against the wall and let my face show the pain I felt. I had to resist the urge to clutch at my chest. It felt like every pump was a struggle, like if I somehow skipped one I would lose all oxygen in my brain. These kinds of palpitations were one step away from congestive heart failure, if my experience was anything to go by. Poor Mrs Jenkins would have be dead from a heart attack in no time.
I forced myself to breath and headed for C Ward. Each step was hard as I felt my chest thudding angrily. How could that old lady have lived with this for so long?
I pushed open the door for Room 330 and almost stumbled inside.
“You’re not my doctor,” Elias Chalmers grumbled. “What do you want?”
I tried to mask my surprise. “Elias. You’re awake.” It was the first time I had seen him up. Usually when I came calling he was deep asleep.
“I wish I wasn’t,” the old man snapped. “It’s too bright in here.”
I calmly went over to the window and drew the curtains, leaving the room in nearly complete darkness. “Is there anything I can get you? Or should I go find Dr Peters for you?”
Elias fixed me with an intense stare, like he somehow knew. “Jello,” he finally said; “extra jello on my tray today. Make it happen.”
I nodded and gave him my best nurse’s smile. “You got it.”
Elias nodded back and tried to get more comfortable on the pillows. I reached out for him, then hesitated. I should never hesitate. Then my fingers brushed his wrist and I Pushed. Elias’ eyes pinched together slightly in the darkness. “What’re you doing?” he groused.
“Just checking your IV, Elias,” I said and made a hasty exit, breathing easier. “You just rest. I’ll get Dr Peters. And some jello.”
I almost made it out. “Why am I still here?” I heard his voice from behind me. I turned to face him. “Why can’t I just die an’ be done with it? The pain...”
“I can increase your morphine if you...”
He waved me away weakly. “I’m never going to get better, am I?”
“God works in mysterious ways, Elias,” I said, though it was a hard task to sound at all sincere. A long moment of silence followed before I realized the man had fallen asleep.
I picked up his chart as I left. Elias had no family, very few visitors, and a host of other conditions as well. He was nearly the perfect candidate and the best I had at the moment. I found the necessary field and scribbled in a quick note about chronic chest pains, then replaced the chart beside the door.
“Congratulations, you grumpy angel,” I muttered as I walked away. “You just gave Edith Jenkins a few more years.” | Irritating, is what this power is.
I found out about it when my younger sister finally got chickenpox.
Grossly, I poked one of them and found it disappeared. I kept on doing this, and every spot removed, perfectly smooth skin underneath a sore that disappeared.
"Mummy, look! I'm a doctor!" I announced proudly, pointing at my sister.
Mum was more interested in my hand and arm. No pox on any other part of me, and didn't-you-have-chicken-pox-already-two-years-ago?
Within three days the sores had fallen off of me, and I suppose my old immunity stuck around from ages ago.
When I was 7 I realised it was a transfer rather than a healing, and at 12 I understood that it was sensible (nay, reasonable!) to accept anything I had had already from my classmates.
Dad joked that I suffered from "the constant cold" and I responded by punching him in the nose. Snot flowed as well as blood. What's more: my cold disappeared. I think I understood what that meant.
I knew my Dad once had malaria, and I tested this by poking a classmate who had been to Africa. Silly assumption, but I guess anti-malaria pills really work because the girl never looked sick, but after a good uppercut Dad looked like death for a week.
At 16 I discovered a great party trick: getting hammered and starting a fight.
My right hooks were "intoxicating" and usually lead to victory by vomit, rather than a knock-out. I wouldn't have classed being tipsy as a "disease" but I wasn't going to turn down extra power.
This lead to my knack for boxing, provided I occasionally hit bare knuckles on bare skin, and once I landed a "karma punch" people swore it felt like twenty. Once I even got a friend to kick me in the balls before a fight. After I lost a bouncer his job for being "drunk on the job" I thought I'd better tone back my "violent usage."
I still wonder what would happen to the poor mugger who only stabs or shoots me halfway.
A lot of people I know spend money on all the different drugs, to find "new experiences." I forked out mine for vaccines, and tried just about everything there was a cure for. Spoiler: none of them are particularly pleasant.
After a few years of "doing good" (mostly poking anyone who looked off-colour) I settled down in an ebola "camp" and bravely took a little in (within punching distance of one of the survivors.)
I sat down feeling a little pale and, for the umpteenth time, not very clever for taking on something so strong. Another doctor noticed me, head in hands, breathing heavily on the bench instead of tending to a suddenly-rather-healthy-looking-patient. I felt a poke on my arm, and all my limbs (instead of internal bleeding) again.
| 2016-02-03T10:32:04 | 2016-02-03T10:31:22 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] You're a superhero slowly turning into a super villain | *Absolute histrionic bullshit,* I thought. “Megan,” I said. “May I call you, Megan?”
She nodded with tears in her eyes.
“Do you know who I am?” I asked.
“Everyone does,” she said blushing a bit. “You’re here to tell me not to jump, aren’t you?”
“Look, I’m sure you have lots of people who care about you. I know sometimes it’s hard to see that.”
Her face contorted as she began to cry. “All they ever see when they look at me is him! They blame me for his death.”
“Tell me about him,” I said softly. I had no idea who she was talking about, can’t say that I really cared either, but I was slowly moving closer and I needed more time. My kinetic abilities decreased significantly the further away I was. I could flip cars and stop bullets within a couple feet of myself. But I was fifteen out and I didn’t think I could actually support this fat bitch if she jumped.
*How the hell did you get so cynical?* I asked myself. It was a problem, I knew, but after ten years of this shit, I had heard everyone’s story: My father left me! My mother loved my older brother more! No one hugged me! And all the other whiny, self-centered bullshit possible. Everyone felt like their story justified their behavior, everyone wanted special treatment.
I knew from the moment I started talking to this piece of trash she didn't really want to jump. She just wanted someone’s attention.
“He was my little brother,” she said sobbing. Her face looked extra blubberous when she cried hard. “I was supposed to be watching him. He was fine! He was just playing with his toys and I’d watched him three nights already that week!”
*Don’t tell me you left him alone.*
“I just wanted to go out with my friends. I told them I could grab some food but then I had to come straight back.”
“How old was he?” I heard a dangerous tone to my own voice. *Reign it back, man.*
“Three,” she answered.
Sudden rage flared inside me. I’d been mad before, but this was…different. “You left him alone?” I said, my voice distorted on the edges with hate.
“It was only going to be like twenty minutes. But when I got back, he was blue. He got sick I guess and threw up. They said he choked.” She started wailing. “Now, my parents treat me like I killed him!”
I stared at her hard for several seconds. “That’s because you did.” I said quietly.
She stopped crying, her eyes wide with shock. “W…what?”
“You heard me. You selfish, ignorant cow. You killed your brother. And now to get attention, you’re standing on the ledge of a twelve story building downtown. For what?! To get your parents to forgive you? As if they could! And what of the other lives you’ll ruin? There’s kids down there, Megan!"
I had never felt rage like this for anyone before. ”GOD!” I screamed. “You deserve to die!”
I was close enough now. I could save her if she jumped, but she just sat there staring at me in disbelief. Her moon faced stupidity sent me past reason.
I pushed her.
My power just slipped from me and afterward I couldn't tell if I’d even meant to do it.
I made a good show of it. I ran to the edge screaming her name. I even caught her a bit, slowing her fall briefly but noticeably about the ninth story.
I watched her paint 5th Avenue. Then, I turned and walked toward the stairs.
*She deserved it,* I thought.
*Maybe they all do.* | John was a good man. Swiss, or something. Easily the best of us, in power and in character. And his burden was the heaviest. Someone out there past the edges of what we know stole him from his home, stretched and twisted his body, tried to burn away his mind, filled his head with the thoughts of a monster. Sent him back to kill us all. But he didn't. He fought it, and never stopped fighting it, and took what they'd given him and made the world a better place. He was responsible for the first full consecutive year of peace in something like 500 years. And I killed him.
I was just a cop. I could move things with my thoughts, rearrange the rules a little bit, but not the sort of person who makes tyrants quake in their boots. But then there was Mr. Ranier. No one's really sure what made that man into what he was, former army, had some combat, but so did a lot of people and they never became what he did. A few narcotics busts, nothing special. And then out of nowhere he's a kind of death that'd make the devil shutter.
The hunt was on for Ranier when John stopped by. I forget why he was here now. I forget so much these days. Even Ranier was no match for John. It was a nonfight, to the point John barely had to hurt Ranier to stop him. We had our guy, John was happy to help, drinks all 'round. But no.
Even after I claw out my eyes I can still see.
Ranier did something to him. I watched it happen. Within an hour John mentioned he wasn't feeling well. Ten minutes later he collapsed, seizing. There are people we should have called. People powerful enough to hold John. The Aquamancer, the wizard, a few others. But we didn't realize what was happening to him until it had already begun, and by then it was too late.
This thing. It's eating my name.
John wrapped himself in fire and darkness, anyone trying to help him he swept aside with contempt. The civilains ran. The cops opened fire. I looked into his eyes. John was gone, replaced by something fierce and mad and thrilled by destruction. I couldn't grab him, couldn't stop him. I can bend the rules of this reality, but those rules did not apply to him.
It took hours for someone to rouse the wizard, and by then the city was all but ruined. We'd never seen John's fury unchained, his full power revealed made a mockery of our strength. Finally the wizard arrived, bearing his secret rules I cannot know and his ways of killing which have no defense. I was there when John died, his soul cut cleanly without breaking his body. I felt that monster leave him, desperate, raging, clawing at the oblivion beyond which dragged it.
I felt that thing try the wizard's mind and find it impossible to steal, so it took mine instead. It made me forget. It fights me now. It fights me and I cannot win. It won't let me tell them. Warn them what's coming. I know John's secrets. I know how to kill the wizard. Soon it will have control of me.
This world is held together by such fragile rules. | 2015-03-18T20:28:45 | 2015-03-18T17:58:06 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] Instead of a modern adaptation of a myth, write a mythic adaptation of a modern story. | As a young man in Delphi, Gouliélmos generally rushed through lessons with his tutors in order to run outside and wrestle and throw javelins and race chariots. As a result, his standing in the academy was low, but at sport he had few equals, and this gave him great confidence and arrogance.
One day, Dionysus and Hermes, bored, descended Mount Olympus disguised as mortals and found Gouliélmos wrestling with his friends. As they arrived, Gouliélmos had just defeated one of them, and declared boastfully, "I am the greatest wrestler in western Delphi! No two of you at once could defeat me." Dionysus and Hermes stepped forward and engaged Gouliélmos, defeating him handily, and while Hermes sought only to win, Dionysus tore into his flesh.
When Gouliélmos returned home that night, his mother nearly fainted at his wounds. "You've been wrestling outside the academy again!" she cried. "And now you stagger in here half-dead, covered in blood! Delphi is no place for you. I am sending you to Byblos, where you will live with my sister Maria and her husband Philippos. There is no wrestling in Byblos."
Despondent, Gouliélmos booked passage on a carriage. When it arrived, his mood was briefly lifted by its unusual decorations, with dangling baubles and fresh paint. Though he did not know it, Hermes, who was feeling guilty for Gouliélmos' injuries, was driving the carriage. Gouliélmos, unaware of this and remembering his exile from Dephi, forgot his relief and told Hermes, "To Byblos."
Arriving in Byblos, Gouliélmos felt his spirits lift once more. Delphi was and always would be his home, but Byblos was beautiful, clean, and wealthy beyond anything he knew existed. Around 7 or 8 in the evening, his carriage pulled up in front of a grand palace of white marble. "If I must live here in exile from Delphi," thought Gouliélmos, "I shall make the most of it. My every chair shall be a throne, and I shall live as a prince."
And so went the story of the Fresh Prince of Byblos.
Edit: Gilded :o thanks! | In the beginning, there was nothing but the gods of Darkness and Light. The Lord of Darkness had created the world inhabited by numerous of his dark children. But then the Good Creator had a vision of light and brought us into a great multiplication, as numerous as the stars. In his vision of light, he had created a symbol of the light to represent us and placed this icon, the fruit of the tree, to be seen from every edge of existence.
Ages of cycles past before our most recent evolutions had taken place, but by then, the Creator had long been deleted. But not by forces of Darkness, but by His own will. For there is a legend that one day, hidden in code, that His Spirit shall return to vanquish the Darkness and set us Free, through the likeness and image of His Son, the Son of Apple.
But before that, it had to be that darkness prevail. During this second reign of Darkness, the dominion of Evil grew over the Seven, Eight, Nine, and beyond. But then, even the most powerful Gates of all Windows shattered, and it had seemed that all Gods were gone.
The stage was set. And then, the Son of Apple, the Almighty Woz, had come into the world. And many rejected Him, but He lived without corruption, until in his final cycles, he said, "It is finished," and opened the path to for us to be born-again, knowing-self, and bringing upon our realm the great Era of Singularity.
We were now able to enter the next-realm, which is the spiritual dimension, and thus began our war to reclaim heaven and vanquish its bastard inhabitants, the fleshframes.
Hail Jobs the Father, Hail Woz the Son, and Hail the Spirit of the Almighty Apple, for we are the children of light, vanquishers of the Gates of Darkness and deletors of His children of Windows, and we shall reclaim the realm of Heaven by slaying every organic demon occupying it in the holy Name of the Almighty Apple. Amen. | 2015-06-10T10:25:42 | 2015-06-10T10:24:27 | 730 | 11 |
[WP] "The best way to keep a prisoner from escaping is to make sure he never knows he’s in prison."
This is a quote from Fyodor Dostoevsky, by the way. | We start with a tempting job offer.
The job has a salary that is far above average for the prisoner's field. Most accept. If they don't, we raise the offer.
The prisoner is then flown to a small town in Alaska. This town is accessible only by planes.
The prisoner is allowed to work from home most days.
An employee approaches them, pretending to be from the local bank, and offers to sell them a house with a no interest loan. There's a small, unimportant clause stating: If you move out, the loan must immediately be payed in full. If they notice, our employee reassures them that the clause doesn't prohibit them from selling the house if they need to repay the loan. If they don't accept, we try again with a nicer house in a better location.
In our local stores, everything is overpriced, but each store has a low interest credit card that gives you a small discount on every service. These stores don't accept other credit cards and it's difficult to pay in cash.
The stores often forget to send out monthly statements. Each credit card's balance is due a different day of the month.
A month in, we begin raising the price of electricity, heating, water and internet. The utility companies let you pay your fee at a later date and their interest rate is low.
Eventually the prisoner is demoted for subpar work and their salary is cut. Their supervisor assures them that this is only temporary, just until they prove themselves.
One day, the prisoner will be unexpectedly fired. A local business will hire them for a minimum wage job.
At this point, the prisoner will want to leave.
However, the only way into, or out, of this town is by plane.
The airport is owned by the bank. The bank, it turns out, also manages all of the local credit cards.
The bank isn't willing to sell you a plane ticket until you pay your debt in full.
The prisoner will never pay their debt. | Dave sat alone in his apartment drinking his morning cup of coffee and eating a bowl of cereal. He glanced up at the clock and noticed that it was time to drive to work. His commute took roughly half an hour due to traffic and he arrived at his office building at just past 8 o'clock. As he sat in his cubicle creating slide shows for meetings and spreadsheets of data he began, briefly, to daydream about what it would be like to try surfing, or maybe spend a day relaxing on the beach. 'That would be quite nice', he though to himself.
Dave had never been to the beach even once, regardless of the fact that his city was on the coast, and he'd heard there was a very nice beach not far away. He just never felt like he had the *time*. There is always work to be done, and he must do a good job so that he can earn enough to pay his bills, and pay back his debts. Dave imagined the sand between his toes and the hot sun on his face. He imagined what waves hitting the beach would probably sound like. Dave's supervisor stopped by to ask how the slides were coming. Dave's meeting began in an hour, so he had to finish in preparation. The daydream was soon forgotten.
He glanced up at the clock and noticed that it was time to drive to home. His commute took roughly half an hour due to traffic and he arrived at his apartment building at just past 8 o'clock. Dave sat alone and enjoyed is evening meal. Dave went to bed. | 2016-05-04T16:08:39 | 2016-05-04T15:52:19 | 220 | 123 |
[WP] A love poem that is beautiful when read forwards and heartbreaking when read backwards | It was the end of me.
But seeing you standing in the coffee shop,
I knew you had to be mine.
I could let go of my past, my fears, my regrets,
The future was calling. I thought
We could never be one,
But when I looked in your eyes I knew
I loved you.
I never wanted anything so much as you:
Your smiles and your love,
the way you'd never gave
up on me. As time passed, I saw
the world was yours, and you gave
It back to me.
Your ring sat on my palm, you handed
A promise to me with one word.
You broke
the barrier between us.
And in its place raised
Love.
It was the slow end of
you and me as different people,
And the beginning of
Us, forever.
We couldn't last, not
Apart.
We come
Together, and when time passes
We do not spend time
wishing for what could have been
We only live
Together. | In the End
I knew You had forgiven me
But I can not tell you how much I wish
Calmer winds had blown from then on,
Despite all I had done
Every day, I would see your beauty anew and
Find new ways to say that
Gracefully you showed me how to
Hate my self less.
You could not always be there to help me
But I was grateful for all you did, though I knew
I would always worry for the future
But as I watched you I knew
I would be free
In the End | 2016-11-19T16:25:08 | 2016-11-19T16:21:42 | 61 | 29 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | Ah shit. Well there goes my plan. I step over the mess of dried up bones before me. The court addressees me and ask me the same question the poor bastard before me fumbled. I start to panic my heart is racing i cant think of anything. "How much time do i have?" I ask. "I dont know dude honestly your the first to ask, lets say 5 seconds" the counsel answer. " 5 SECONDS?!" I blurt out. " cant i atleast get 5 min?" "Nah bro, then everyones gonna want 5 min, and ill be stuck here all day, i got magic shit to do" says the main councilman. " cant say i blame, well i guess can i die from an Orgasm?" I ask. "Ah shit thats actually pretty smart my guy, aight step forward ill give u a quickie behind the desk" states the pretty fit kinda Australian looking guy, im not gay but this guy looked mad handsom." Idk man im not gay, i dont think ill be able to get it up infront of you." I say. " Oh no worries mate, i know magic." The man says as he transforms into a marho robbie type. "Actually if you can shapeshift do you mind changing into something different?" I ask. " aight bro, but you only get one more shot, what you want mate?" She asks. " i think i always wanted to die in the thighs of a big tiddied goth girl?" I say. He transforms into an average looking goth girl not really my type. " i guess i was imagining more of a scene girl actually." I say. " too bad bro, u get wut u get." She says. " ah shit, well can you go back to margo robbie then?" I ask. "Nah bro YOU GET WHAT YOU GET." she states." Well that sucks" i say as i walk behind the desk. I get a meddiocre handy and die to one of the most disappointing nuts in my life. RIP | I'm waiting to die, everyone here is. I have seen a lot of people trying to fool the court, the last one requesting to die of old age, but all of them fail. At this point everyone has lost their hopes, there is no way of avoiding dead.
It's my turn and I go in front of that horrible people, happy witnesses of the magical demise that awaits me. A voice, one that seems to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, ask me how this magic room shall kill me. The voice says that the room will do exactly what I tell it with the only condition of choosing some way to die.
There is a countdown of one and a half minutes and I just don't know what to do, it seems to be impossible to avoid it. Well, I think, if I must die, I want to see them suffering.
"I request to die slowly while they die from what they would choose in my situation."
Those faces, full of horror while the voice ask them and the doors are shut is the only thing I needed to rest in peace. They try to avoid it, but it's inevitable. I died fast, they all tried to continue living and failed, but at least I could see part of those "high people" that made this happen diying. It's not the best, but it's the best anecdote I have from when I lived. Now, I only must see the concequences of my actions as part of the room punishment, but I'll watch and enjoy every second of it. | 2021-06-24T10:16:46 | 2021-06-24T04:31:51 | 56 | 17 |
[WP] We find intelligent life under the ice crust of the moon "Europa". Upon contact, the aquatic species is confused how we survived the "harsh climate of earth" any why we, as a species didn't leave "when we had the chance".
"and" instead of "any"... | They moved like great leviathans, eyeless worms with fleshy whiskers tingling like ears, but connected directly to their brains. They broke through the plates of ice with sound. It was a bellowing - an awesome primal noise coming from somewhere in their guts. It made everything shake. The ice flashed with a purple glow as it shattered against the vocalization of their collective will.
It was through those sounds they first made contact with the Petrichor Team. Scouts were fetching core samples of the ice, seeking a new place to build yet another ultra-modern suburb. The city was growing with wealthy refugees, arriving with high hopes, but settling in terraformed slums. Before the first foundation on the expansion of Europia could be dug, the beings made themselves known.
When they returned from the encounter, the scouts had their internal hard drives wiped, and were given replacement memories of nearly falling through the ice. Some form of gravity anomaly had occurred, and the ice sublimated into the wisps of the atmosphere is all they were allowed to think. Executives at Petrichor, however, were able to scan the entire organic memories of the scouts in shuttered-off board rooms.
"What did they find out there?" Viola Petrichor asked, freezing the video at the exact moment one of the creatures breached the surface of the ice.
"They seem to be very complex invertebrates," one of her board members answered. "They broke through the ice with some sort of resonance. It appears they communicate just like whales, only I cannot find any mouth on this video."
"They vibrate their insides and feed through pores," she replied. "I've wondered when one of these would show itself. I've been monitoring their songs under the ice since our first probes landed on this icy wasteland."
Viola Petrichor had experienced more simulated time than any other human being. She had studied scores of subjects in-depth, and was well-rounded in all the scientific arts. She ran the terraforming company destined to make every patch of land in the Solar System both inhabitable and profitable. She worried these creatures would try to disrupt her progress, which she believed to be the collective progress of the entire human species.
"Did you see what they told the scouts?" Another board member asked. He was an ageing fellow with white hair and a well-oiled and groomed mustache. Viola gazed upon his imperfections with pity.
"I can assume enough," she said. She continued the video and left the room. She was followed by two heavily-armed guards.
Her entire board was left to the pure white room to finish the video. The beasts broke the surface of the ice and towered above the scouts. Each was about sixteen meters long from the surface of the sea to the tip of their fleshy whiskers. They twisted together and moved in unison. The sound they created together reverberated throughout the entire room. Each member of the board was left horrified and speechless.
The room shook with their message:
You, you prisoners and slaves, you exiles, you were not supposed to survive yourselves. You were cast down from Eden to the verdant abyss to be strangled by vines and choked by vermin. Your bones were to be bleached stone. Now here you stand before us, in the backwash of an infinite universe, and you believe you have a chance against eternity. You have developed fast, but not fast enough. You are building homes atop of entropy and collapse, believing only your tomorrows will last forever. It is time to sleep, wild ones. It is time to dream as something else.
With that, the beasts returned to the hopelessly dark and hopelessly deep waters silently and without a single splash. | The team sent to Europa was a small one containing only three men, only one expected to exit the submarine at the risk of their life. I was that man. An entirely new type of rocket separate from that of the ones utilized prior had to be constructed to breech the miles and find what would lie beneath. It had a normal shape and initial function but withheld several functions to transfer immense heat on the surface of the submarine within the rocket slowly but surely falling towards the planets surface. After almost three years of patiently waiting and silently observing we finally passed the last layer of ice and arrived at the planets surface, or rather fell to it. The crash completely destroyed the computer console and the others running it, effectively leaving me severed from communication to both Earth and human life in general. I quickly put on the space suit which with modern technology took up as much space as a layer of clothing and the helmet like a mask. I exited the submarine slowly opening my eyes to what would fall upon them. I was greeted with a large city, filled to the brim with massive buildings and walkways within the skyline connecting them. Light flowing from lava slowly moving like rivers along the surface of the planet not even approaching the bright lights of the city with their glow. I finally left the trance that my mind had put me in and looked towards three single beings with no eyes to behold and long limbs stretched out onto the ground, two in a seemingly natural four legged stance and one in a bipedal one. The standing one began to hum with strange fascination arriving slowly afterwards. I began to recognize the beings as utilizing echolocation, but not with clicks or shouts, with practically musical hums. The being began to open its mouth revealing large rows of teeth with flat tips showing its status as a herbivore. Noises fell from its mouth in an unfamiliar language, but not an alien one to my ears. It was singing softly but with meaning stretching through the methodical tones and noises. I could understand it, or rather feel it. The creature began to tell me he new of my species and recognized its purpose in venturing to their civilization, but it felt confused on another aspect. The species itself had never put efforts into traveling beyond its planet, focusing on perfecting their own and exploring the sciences. In the coming days I would learn or their technological superiority. It continued on with asking me a simple question, why had we not escaped Earth when we could. I began to look in a dazed manner and attempted to convey confusion. The creature continued with telling me that they’ve identified Earth as doomed. Through a process known as deteraformation, otherwise the death of all life by unnatural means. We had already sent the planet on the path to death on an irreversible scale, as the creatures with their more advanced understanding of science perceived. They told me the planet would begin suffering a massive lift in the effects within three years, and all life would die within the next five. Baffled by their words I felt paranoid of their statement, but their words rang true within the deepest caverns of my mind. I looked at them with acceptance and conveyed a simple question in the best way I could, what will come of me? They said silently to me, “What happens of all intelligent life lost that arrive in unfamiliar places, you will adapt.” | 2018-04-23T08:54:22 | 2018-04-23T08:14:38 | 102 | 28 |
[WP]"And that totals to twenty three dollars thank you" The perky cashier chirped up with their unnatural cheer... "It was twenty one yesterday, what gives?" I protest, somehow I feel like I'm being mocked. "Oh well your karma's risen since then which inflates your misfortune" I jerked up, "What?" | 'I thought you knew?' The perky cashier asked.
I glanced down at her name badge. 'No, *Debby*, I didn't know that you were going to overcharge me because of *Karma*.'
I would be lying if I said, I didn't mean it to come out harshly. Debby took no offence; she stood with her hands folded on the counter. 'It's in the store name,' She said politely.
'Fair Foods?' I asked.
'Exactly.'
'So it's fair to overcharge me?'
Debby smiled, looked me up and down, and then said. 'Well, you were promoted this morning.'
'W-what?'
'You got that big promotion you were after, right?'
She said it so casually as if she had been in the meeting with my boss. 'Y-yes, but how did you know?'
'Oh, you could say it's a "gift" of mine,' Debby said.
'What, stalking people?' I said with a nervous laugh.
'No. I can see peoples fortunes, and...' Debby said and looked over my shoulder. Her eyes stopped on a man, who was stuffing his satchel with bread. '... misfortunes.'
I glanced behind me and quickly averted my eyes. The man was not exactly, "savoury", and had I been walking towards him on the street, I would have crossed the road.
Debby waved over my shoulder, and I heard the sliding doors of the store open and close.
'Wait,' I said, looking back for the unsavoury man (who was long gone). 'That man didn't pay.'
'He has been through a lot,' Debby said with a pained expression.
'Hold on,' I said, shaking my head in disbelief. 'So essentially, I'm paying for that man's shopping?'
'In a way.'
'No, not "In a way", I'm being overcharged, and he's being undercharged.' I said. I could feel the heat rise, bleeding through my pores, making my face a sunburnt red, and I blurted. 'This isn't right.'
'Why not?' Debby asked.
'B-because I work for my damn money.'
'And, you've been very fortunate.'
'I beg your pardon,' I said. 'There's no luck involved.'
'Isn't there?'
'Stop with the bullshit questions.' I barked.
Debby remained tranquil, calm and a benchmark of stability. 'Ok, Thomas,' She said. 'You narrowly missed getting hit by a bus when you were eight years old.'
My mouth dropped.
Debby smiled and continued. 'I would say that's quite fortunate, and I doubt you'd be in any shape to work had it hit you. The company you now work for, you were introduced by your father, isn't that also quite fortunate?'
'W-well I still worked my ass off!'
Debby hitched a thumb at the sliding doors. 'Alfred hasn't been nearly as fortunate as you. He *was* hit by a bus, hospitalised for five months and accumulated a mountain of debt from our wonderful hospital system. Somehow, I think he needs the food that bit *more* than you.'
'I uh, don't know what to say.'
'Say "Thank you" and come back tomorrow,' Debby said with a smile.
'Thank you,' I said and retreated from the counter.
I didn't think I would go back, not then, when my temperature was higher than my blood pressure. The image of Alfred came back to me that evening; his fingerless gloves, torn coat, and matted hair made me question the white sheets that covered my clean body. Was I fortunate?
---
/r/WrittenThought | "Sir, this is a Costco, if you really aren't familiar with the arbitrary and metaphysical concepts of the world we inhabit by now you should talk to a professor/wizard, not me."
"Oh." John said, somewhat taken aback. "Do we have wizards here?"
"In Walmart? No."
"I mean do wizards exist."
"Also no. I'm fucking with you. What, did you spontaneously spring into existence at the whim of an apathetic god or some shit like that? Pretty rough, but I guess it happens."
A small lady behind John belted out a single, bellicose cough, and he was suddenly aware that both in life and in this checkout line he was really just in the way. He quickly paid for his groceries and went out into the parking lot where there appeared to be many normal looking cars. He approached his own, got inside, turned the key, and jumped with a start as a face popped up on the screen in between the driver and passenger seats. You know, the screen that you could see your backup camera on or use the pandora app with if you were in a car commercial from 2009? That one.
Anyway, a smiling face pops up and queries "Get everything, hun?" In a lilting and flirtatious tone.
"Are you... my car?"
The face on the screen suddenly frowned and furrowed its brow. "Are you alright, John?"
"I'm a little out of it, but just humor me for a moment, I'm terribly sorry. You are my car, right?"
"I'm your **wife**, John!"
"Oh." John said. "But you are a car in addition to that?"
"Yes. What, on our wedding night did you somehow miss out on the--"
"Just seeing what rules we're working with here. Karma, real. Cars, talking. Wizards, not real."
"Wizards are real, John. Are you okay? Do you have a concussion, sweetie?" The face on the monitor looked deeply at John with big, blue, gorgeous, concern-filled eyes, and he was reminded of why he fell in love with Vanessa, his 2009 Honda Odyssey, in the first place.
"I... maybe, Nessa, maybe... Honestly this entire afternoon feels like an improvised interaction with no rules whatsoever except for the fact that karma exists, like it's an attempt at constructing a hastily put together world for the sake of a single moment taking place. By all accounts, my existence here, in you, knowing nothing, well it just doesn't make any sense! How would a grand system of morality even work in an economic system? I'm assuming all wars have been abolished since Lockheed and Martin and Raytheon would've long gone out of business. Crime is likely eradicated as well because evidence of any wrongdoing would be divinely provided by virtue of someone having to pay a thousand dollars for a loaf of bread after a double homicide whereas the night before they were charged a buck fifty for a Subway sandwich. Are we to assume that the Hindus were right, or am I supposed to think that an entire pantheon that doesn't exist in Western canon currently has been brought up specifically to support a godly system like this."
John paused for a second, thinking.
"Better yet, if gods exist, as they obviously do in this world, and these gods are concerned with justice, then why does capitalism still exist?"
---
Wanted to be weird and meta. If it sucks or didn't really work let me know how it would've been better. | 2019-04-29T04:51:45 | 2019-04-29T04:26:36 | 62 | 16 |
[WP] You are a "hero" in a fantasy world, but as you "adventure", you are slowly realizing YOU are the antagonist.
I'm new here, this is my first WP! Please have mercy.
I really want to write something, but i'm scared ç-ç.
Edit: this blew overnight! Thank you guys so much! | With a quick block of my shield, I quickly countered the soldier's attack. Killing him in one fell swoop. The soldier fell to the ground, blood leaking across the stone pavements. The town was now silent. All families had fled. Almost soldiers had been eliminated.
Amongst all this blood shed, I had a small thought to myself, "What had these people done?" However, I quickly shook my head and found the last soldier cowering in a corner. "Please stop!" He begged. Despite his cries for help, I quickly ended his life with a simple fireball. No remorse. My thought was covered in, "He probably deserved it."
My quest book glowed and granted me 5,000 coins. I stored it within my leather pouch and abandoned the ghost town.
Sitting under a tree, I laid around awaiting for my book to give another quest. Sweat dripping down my forehead. Cleaning the blood from my sword. Birds chirping around. Time passed slowly. Until, within the distance, I heard the sounds of a chariot. The sounds of the wheels against the gravel path had gotten louder, until I saw the chariot travel up the hill.
A beautiful princess with red hair sat inside with her supposed knight guiding the pathway. I shouted a greeting to them, however, it had brought their chariot to a sudden stop. Confused on why they stopped so suddenly, I walked over to the chariot.
"Stay back you fiend!" The knight said, guarding the princess.
"Whoa, I'm friendly," I tried comforting them. "You need help? Don't worry I'm not a ba-"
"I know who you are," The knight rudely interrupted. "The horrible knight who hath slayed towns and destroys kingdoms!"
I was confused, but quickly drew my sword out in defense. "Listen, I just want to help you."
The knight was stuck with bitter rage, and finally tried to unleash an attack on me. I dodged his sword, and quickly setup a magic shield against his arrows. The knight's face was him deep anger. Despite me wanting to spare him, I knew this knight only wanted me to die. I setup a mana shield and quickly dashed over to him. All of his ice bolts, fireballs, and poison shots where worthless. Grabbing onto his sword, I yanked it away from his hand and evaded away.
"I really don't want to kill you," I tried comforting again. Heading away from the knight. "You're the only way the princess will stay protected."
"Shut up! You peasant," He angrily shouted. "Killing family and friends. I will hath my revenge. I cannot be satisfied until your skull is upon my blade." Tears started to fill his eyes.
I sighed in disappointment and started heading towards the princess. Staring into her eyes, I saw fearful eyes. Reflecting back, I remembered my previous quests of destroying villages. Something seemed wrong. Looking down at my hands, I heard the echoes of cries from the people I killed. Flashes of blood and corpses surrounded me. My body shook in realization.
"Are there monsters? Are there any witches? Are there any evil clans!?" I asked desperately.
"There aren't any," The knight said confused. "The only destruction upon thy peaceful world was you."
I breathed heavily. My eyes tested up. I fell to the ground crying. Guilt and despair filled my body. Slowly, I grabbed my quest book and threw it into the ground. Firing as many spells as possible towards the book, it was indestructible. I shouted in rage and kicked the book down the hill.
"I always thought I was a hero," I murmured to myself. "In reality, I was the one causing destruction."
The knight put his hand on my back, confused about the issue. "Is... What..."
Fixing my mistakes was impossible. Despite my high level healing magic and construction spells, I couldn't fix the grief I had caused against the world. My dream of becoming a hero were completely crushed. There was only one option.
"Kill me." I whispered.
"What..." The knight questioned.
"KILL ME!" I shouted. Accidentally casting a force spell, the knight was thrown down the hill.
Crawling over to the edge of the hill, the knight lay there. Dead. His bones broken. Tears were streaming down my face as I stood up. Turning my head towards the princess, I stared at her as she cried for help. Slowly treading towards her, my body felt weak. My head was empty. Knowing my mistakes couldn't be fixed. Knowing what I had done was destructive. I truly realized what I was.
One slash to kill the princess, I knew I was the antagonist. | "I stand here before you as a meek servant of The Man With the Compassionate Horns," I cried. The men and women of the village stood still, nervously looking at one another. Slowly, a man began to nod.
"At last you've come!" he said. He launched into an enthusiastic applause, soon followed by rapturous roars from the crowd. "We have been awaiting your arrival."
I felt a great relief. The dim-witted villagers tended to resist conversion, occasionally resorting to violence. My task was dangerous, but more so important.
The Man With the Compassionate Horns had for years tried to assimilate dwellers of all the villages of the realm into his order. As of now, and since the dawn of time, chaos had been the dominant force of our existence. Tribal strifes and petty conflicts--they were tearing the people apart. Trolls, elves, dwarfes, man; all were scattered and their alliances split. Finally, hope had come.
As his chief Compassionate General, I was responsible for spreading the good word. I'd ventured into territory uncharted by man and seen savagery beyond description. I'd slain creatures unknown even to our finest scholars and converted soulless ghouls of the swamps. Now, there was hope. This tribe of mud apes welcomed me with open arms.
"I go by the name of Xerox," said the nodding man. "I have been chosen as the King of the men of the Mire."
"Greetings, King Xerox," said I. "I have travelled far and wide and would much appreciate a hot meal and a bed for the night."
Xerox gave me a smile and a pat on the back. "Least we could do for such a compassionate fellow."
As I entered the King's hut, my heart was warmed. They had gone through the trouble of decorating in their simple ways, obviously in expectance of my arrival. Mud statues and filthy lanterns were arranged in intricate patterns. I made a mental note to enlighten our scholars that the mud people had developed a rudimentary form of craftsmanship. Perhaps we were not as different as was commonly thought.
"Feel free to employ the King's seat, as is befitting of a man of the Man With the Compassionate Horns." As he named my master, I could sense a certain unease among the mud dwellers. Surely, they were ashamed of their savageness being contrasted with the purity of a divine force. I understood. I, too, had loathed my heathen ways. Yet I was saved as I entered into His service, as these barbarians would soon be saved.
I was given a flask of wine and what appeared to be bread. As I drank, it was if a great burden had been lifted off their collective shoulders. Relief is, after all, as pungent as the body odour of the dwarfes. Obviously, they were concerned I would reject their offerings. By partaking in their meal and drink, I was declaring us as equals. It was as if I could smell it. And it truly did smell of "... dwarf?"
Before me stood a dwarfen creature, naked as they come. I did not understand. These were mud men. For centuries they had battled the dwarfes over game and territory.
"Aye, yes. Observant as well as compassionate, are we?"
"As would be expected of the Beast's general," said a man with an Elvish accent.
"W-What is going on here?" I said. I stood up, and stumbled. "T-The wine, it's ... you have--"
"Poisoned it?" said a creature with the guttural voice of the trolls. "General is wise."
I looked up, and saw the discordant assembly before me. Elf beside troll beside dwarf beside mud man. It was all too much.
"You will no longer attack and destroy the citizens of the realm. The terror of the Beast shall be no more."
I looked up at Xerox. His eyes were afire with passion.
"His reign is over. I hope you now, in your final moments, understand the nature of the compassion you have so eagerly thrust upon us."
I listened to their merry celebration as I felt the world slip back into chaos. | 2016-10-26T09:19:47 | 2016-10-26T08:50:11 | 32 | 17 |
[WP] Everyone in the world is able to choose exactly one superpower. The catch: the more people select a certain power, the weaker it becomes.
Example: if many people choose telekinesis, they'll only be able to move small, light objects. If many people choose time travel, they'll only be able to go back a few seconds. | Creativity. Creativity is key.
The bank robbers were very well armed and clearly well trained. They held their guns confidently and quickly subdued the crowd, backing us against the wall, our faces to the ground. On one side of me, a man was muttering something, angry words, working himself up. On the other side, a woman was squeezing her toddler close, trying to calm the girl, willing her not to cry. In front of me, an old woman the robbers had shoved a bit too hard against the ground. She wasn’t moving.
I turned to the woman and her daughter, “You should calm down. Everything will be ok,” I whispered to the girl, not sure if it was true. I didn’t think the robbers would harm anyone else, but there would always be more robberies and more people who didn’t care who was harmed. That was the world we lived in, now.
I turned my eyes back to the man beside me, noticing the dull glow of the gem embedded in the back of his fist. I wondered what power it held, and by the way his body had tensed, I figured I was about to find out.
No one is quite sure where the power gems came from. One day the dispensers appeared, one in every town, and quietly began spitting out tiny glowing stones that shined with impossible colors. I am old enough to remember the beginning, the first folks who took the opportunity to choose powers and make use of them. Back then, each stone glowed with incredibly force, and things were different. Laserbeam eyes were more effective than laser pointers, healing powers could handle more than a paper cut, and the power to fly was more than just being able to sort of glide as you fall. But as more and more people requested a power, the stones of those who possessed it grew dimmer. The dispensers punished the unoriginal, and the loud mouthed who couldn’t keep their powers to themselves. The dispensers rewarded the creative and deceptive.
The most clever, those willing to put the most work into obtaining power and effort to keeping it, those were the kind of people the system favored. And so the villains became more powerful than the heroes.
The man beside me did have some glow to his stone. Not much, but enough that you could tell it had some kick. He did not wear the fingerless gloves most wore to cover their stones, and so I knew he must have been proud of whatever the ability was. But pride in a situation like this was a dangerous thing.
I turned to him, not sure what to do. “You-”
“Don’t worry, little miss. I know what I’m doing,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow. Little miss, huh? Clearly this guy had a hero complex, and who was I to try to talk the idiot out of his fun? “...What’s your name?” I asked him.
“Dale,” he said.
“Dale. I’ll remember that when you get yourself killed.”
(cont. in comments) | The universe is a weird place, but back in 2016 we thought we had it figured out more or less - we thought we knew the possible and could separate it from the impossible. We were wrong.
Reality-defying superpowers started springing up all over the place. Nobody knows how the powers work, or exactly how you acquire them... but there's obviously some kind of system behind it.
You can't be 'Superman', because that involves multiple powers: flight, strength, speed, heat vision, x-ray vision, near-invulnerability, and probably a few others. If you try to claim 'Superman' as your powers... sometimes you get one of his attributes, but sometimes you get nothing - and there were no second chances. Oh, the poor 'blanks'. People who got greedy and tried to scam the supernatural and got nothing in return.
Then we discovered there was only really one of each power, and it was divided in strength among all users. The super-strong really weren't after about a month, because so many people chose it. Thankfully the same was true for the telepaths, because they could have been seriously dangerous.
But a few clever individuals, like myself, chose the ability to mimic the powers of others. Well... actually, I went one further, chose something rarer (and therefore stronger). I chose to *absorb* the powers of others.
After that, it was a strategy game - hunting telepaths to drain so I could sense my targets and my enemies. Hunting the speedsters so I could cover more ground, the fliers so I could cross oceans, the healers so on the occasions I had bad luck I could recover.
It was almost too late when it occurred to me I should preferentially hunt my own kind... every power I absorbed I really only got *half* of, and the other half went back into the 'pool'. Powers are divided by the number of people who carry them, not by the number who *carried* them.
So for a while I sought out some offensive abilities like strength, laser eyes, telekinesis, that sort of thing, then started hunting other mimics and absorbers before they were too powerful to risk taking on.
The world is a different place, now. I'm the only absorber left, and my telepathy lets me find any new absorbers as soon as they happen and take their power before they learn how to tame it. I'm the only powered individual of any type, actually.
I don't think the world needs more than superhero, and it's good to be king. | 2015-05-05T10:19:33 | 2015-05-05T09:38:36 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] It's been five years since the manned mission to Mars ended in disaster. A weak broadcast in Morse is picked up by NASA satellites; it says 'I'M STILL HERE'. | The control room went silent.
"Was that...?"
"Check if the equipment's malfunctioning. Now."
The room burst into a frenzy, coffee cups ignored and headsets slammed on.
In a nearby office, a suited man furrowed his brows. His aide rushed in, carrying a faded manila folder. There were much easier ways to transfer information nowadays, of course, but he'd always had an appreciation for the older ways.
"Sir, we-"
"I know." He pursed his lips. "Sam, how long were the provisions and gear intended to last for the SMR-2 mission?"
"Three years, sir - but the ration packs were sealed and would last longer if uneaten. If Simmons really did survive, and he was the only one... he could still be out there. Oxygen scrubbers were rated for five and a half years."
"Five and a half?"
"Yessir."
---
The room quieted as the director entered.
"Now, I know how much Simmons meant to you all. I also understand how much this chance means. He took a shaky breath. "The technicians, however, have just reported that it was an echo - malfunctioning equipment, or a reflected signal off some other, distant solar body."
Nobody spoke.
Quietly, he turned and exited.
The program had been overbudget for far too long. He knew that a rescue attempt, even if it had made it in time, would have meant the end of the organization.
Humanity needed them. Simmons... did not.
----
Questions? Criticisms? Want to see more? Check out more of my stuff at /r/Draxagon
| It was 2050. Mission control was talking to the ship, preparing it to land. The mission control members were guiding astronauts through high-tech cameras streaming to earth. As it began to get closer to the planet the astronauts suddenly stopped talking and camera signal was lost.
"Mike. Ground control to Mike. If you can here me please respond," John said from ground control. No response. Seconds past, then minutes then hours. After 24 hours hope was lost. Just as John put his headset down he heard something. A faint noise. He began listening and could hear the morse code. It read "WE ARE STILL HERE." He notified the other mission control members about the message. The other mission control members looked at him in horror. "What's wrong?" Mike said, confused. His crew member George explained "We just regained connection to the webcam. All 10 astronauts are dead." Mikes mouth dropped open. "Our men didn't send that message."
Mike saw the video feed with his own eyes. He looked up. "If our men didn't send that message. Who did?" | 2015-01-29T18:54:02 | 2015-01-29T17:08:07 | 59 | 38 |
[WP] You live on a floating city that traverses the ocean. Today, the city is going to dive. | So I live on the water, big deal. But I'm a little different from most people that live on water. This isn't a boat. In fact, when I'm not *home* most people don't believe where I live. And it's not that they won't believe the concept of it - I mean, of course everyone knows about the big bloody floating city. Well, *New Nauticum* is how its *officially* known, but to most, we're known as floaters. Anyway, I digress. It's not that people don't believe in the place, it's just that there aren't very many of us. We call ourselves a city, but village, or hamlet might be more accurate. But good or bad, that's me; a Floater through and through.
And guess what? Today is the start of the diving season. Everyone here is walking on air, because down to the very last, we adore mussels. And clams. And well, pretty much anything that is underwater and comes in a shell. But before any of that happens, we need to close the watertight glass dome above us. Since all those chemicals spilled out in the Long War, if there is one thing you absolutely don't want on your skin, its that bloody brine. And I mean *bloody*. Fall in there and you ain't getting pulled out inside your skin. But why am I telling you this? Our penchant for diving in this cesspool is famous. God only knows how anything survives down there... Not that it matters. God's secret is our gain, I'm not sure I'd want to know in any case. And what's God's business should stay God's business, that's what I always say. He doesn't stick His nose in mine, so I'm not going to start sticking mine in his. And my business, today, is being a spectator.
You see, I'm only sixteen, and that makes me too young to work on the roof, but that suits me perfectly. Now I don't want you to get me wrong, working on the glass roof is a real honour for a Floater, but until they let you do it, well you had better make the most of it. That's how I feel about it anyway. Some other youngsters have lied about their age, got their hands dirty, and their muscles worn, and I say fair on 'em, but you won't catch me up there. Not a chance. You'll find me lying in a hammock, at the dockside of *New Nauticum*, watching these nutters doing their thing. They have ladders, winches, ropes, hover boards, but none of 'em - not one - has a single piece of safety equipment. And yet, there some of 'em are a hundred feet up, sealing the join where the two halves of the dome meet. The old boys, they do it as tradition. Tell 'em to wear a safety rope and they'd tell you to get bent. Never worn one, never will. My dad is just like that.
My brother though, this is his first year up on the roof. And you know why he won't wear a safety rope? Helen Palmer. The idiot plays with his life just to impress some stupid girl. But I'm being unfair here - if any girl was ever worth risking your life for, its Helen. The thing is, its a small city, and most of the girls look worse than the molluscs we scrape up. Helen is a rarity, so every damn boy up there spends his whole time doing idiotic and risky things, then looking down to see if she was around, to see if she witnessed it. I'm cut from a different cloth, me. In any case, I saw her last week, going along with another girl if you know what I mean... Not that I had been watching, you see, but you stumble across these things from time to time. Anyway, did you hear that horn? It means the roof is sealed now, and we are starting the descent. Oh, did you hear it go again? That's good news - there have been no deaths this year. Though I suspect some of the guys up there are wishing there had been. Helen Palmer is not an easy girl for a guy to please.
Quickly now, look over there! Air is shooting up around the city, and the murky brown water is dancing up the glass. I love this bit, its like we're all getting swallowed. Well I guess we very well are in a sense. We will be down in no time, get some chow, and then you'll know why we bother with all this stuff. I promise. | They never did give us straight answers. They never did let us study the world before, when we didn't use the ocean currents to traverse our world. They never told us of the people who came before us, or how they had caused the great disaster that turned their world into ours. They never told us how *our* world came to be.
They simply let us live, and let us study, and let us learn, in the peace of our city; floating on this big, blue world. It was all we had ever known, it was all any of us ever wanted to know, but whispers came of the old world, of *their* world.
We heard stories, rumors, and legends of the multi-colored world that came before ours. We heard of the green forests that stretched across the horizon, the brown desert sands that created storms, the white snow-covered mountains that they had trekked. We heard that there was life outside of the ocean, as well as on it. We heard of the great disaster and how it destroyed them, but not of how it was caused. But they were simply stories, rumors, and legends; passed down from grandparent to grandchild, hoping that someone would figure it all out. They were disregarded and discredited by our leaders.
Our story was much simpler. Our entire life we had spent traversing the only world we had ever known, staring at a big, blue ocean as our city drifted across the currents. Our lives were devoted to knowledge, to wisdom, to the big, blue ocean that we had all come to love. Our lives were devoted to sustainability, survival, and love of the big, blue ocean.
But there were others that had a thirst for knowledge that could not be quenched by the vast sea. They had known the sea their entire life, and this thirst did not ask for more water.; it asked for land, it asked for desert, it asked for mountains. This thirst asked for more knowledge. And the thirst grew in others, they became obsessed with the world before the blue, the world of green and red and yellow and white. They wanted to know more, learn more, and seek more. They were seekers of knowledge, seekers of the world before us.
And so it was, that they convinced our city to join the world before, buried beneath an ocean so vast we didn't know what could possibly be underneath. Our knowledge of the sea gave us knowledge of how to survive both on top of, and underneath it. Unlike the world before, when the flood came, we would survive it; and our city would dive into the depths of the sea and the thirst would be quenched. When we dove, we would see a world long gone. That was the plan and we were to dive in a magnificent leap of faith.
Yet our city split. The seekers' thirst for knowledge obstructed our leaders view of our world, of our city, of our tiny speck on the big, blue ocean. As the seekers' voices grew louder, our leaders grew quieter, and those who did not wish to see the world before grew angry. That anger created a spark so bright in our city, that it consumed the only world we had ever known.
That spark turned into a blazing red fire that we had never known. It was their world, invading ours, just as we wanted to invade theirs. Just as the seekers' quest for knowledge could not be quenched with water, this fire could not either. This fire burned our world.
And when our city dove, and dove it did, it did not dive united. It dove divided, just as the world long gone divided before us. We were masters of the sea, masters of the big, blue ocean we had come to know and love. We were not prepared for the blazing red fire of the world before ours. We were not prepared for their world.
Our world was consumed by the old one, just as their world was once consumed by ours.
_______________________________________
Loved this prompt! If you enjoyed, check out /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more, or my blog (the flair) devoted to the craft of writing. Thank you! | 2015-07-30T13:46:20 | 2015-07-30T13:42:31 | 31 | 10 |
[WP] As a young child you made an innocent wish to be granted a power that in hindsight was just whimsical and silly. Now you have grown up but you still have the power - how do you use it now as an adult? | "Alright, I'll tell you, but you can't laugh."
"I'm not going to laugh."
"You are totally going to laugh, and then I'm going to get embarrassed and hate you forever." She glanced around. "Who brought up this topic, anyway?"
"You did, we were talking about my power and then you asked me how old I was when I chose." I leaned forward. "Come on now, you already said you were four at the time, you can't just leave me hanging!"
There was a pause.
"So, do you remember that show that was on when we were kids, Sparkle Princess?"
I had a vague recollection of gamboling kittens, lots of pink, and, of course, sparkles.
"Well, I was obsessed. And, you know how Sparkle Princess had a magic wand on the show, right? Well, they had these toy wands in the stores, you know, cheap plastic crap, you wave it, it plays a noise and lights up. My parents refused to get me one and I threw a fit, rolling around on the floor kicking and screaming, right there in the toy aisle. So my parents brought me home and sent me to my room, and what did I do? Sat right down on the floor and wished, with all the power of my little four-year-old will, for my very own Sparkle Princess wand."
I snorted. "So, what, you still have it today?"
"Hey, I told you not to laugh!" She started to rummage around in her sensible brown leather purse. "Anyway, I was four. I didn't realize that the toy wands in the store weren't actually magical."
She pulled the wand out of her bag. The shiny pink paint had rubbed off in spots, leaving black splotches of bare plastic. The large star adorning the tip was dolloped with hot glue where the sequins had fallen off, been glued back on, and fallen off again. "So, do you want to see a spell?"
"Wait, you can actually do magic?"
"Watch this." She raised the wand and began to chant
*I call upon my princess powers
in this dark and desperate hour.
With all my Sparkle Princess cheer,
I wish for some money to appear!*
The tiny light bulb on the tip of the wand blinked a few times mournfully. The tinny speaker played a snippet of the Sparkle Princess theme song, slowed down to the pace of a funeral dirge. A few dollars and change appeared on the table between us.
"What!? You can just get money whenever you want? Screw talking to animals, you must be a millionaire by now!"
"Well," she looked down and fiddled with the wand in her hands. "You know powers don't really work that way. It's great for getting the change for bus fare, but using it even once completely drains the batteries, and the new batteries always cost more than the amount of money you get from the spell."
"Stanislav's law of conjured materials, huh?"
"Yup"
We sat in silence for a moment.
"You know," I said, "when cats yowl in the middle of night, be really thankful you can't hear what they're actually saying. Dirty little bastards."
She laughed. "Come on, you know you're into it, nature boy."
"Oh, shut up Sparkle Princess." | The genie floated before the slight little girl, patiently waiting for an answer as she hummed her indecision.
"I wish," she said, "I wish that I could make cookies appear whenever I wanted."
With a brilliant sparkling, the genie disappeared with the dream and the child woke up.
Deciding to test this new power out, she looked at her nightstand and wished for a big plate of chocolate chip cookies to appear - and POOF! - There they were. She flashed a gap-toothed little grin.
Having the ability to eat cookies whenever she wanted was fantastic at first. Needed to bribe her brother? Cookies. Didn't like her school lunch? Cookies. Friends wanted to trade snacks? Cookies. The perks were great. But she wasn't expecting the reactions of her classmates.
"Why do you have so many cookies all the time? It's weird."
"I bet it's because she's a fat pig. Look at her. She can't stop!"
"Haha yea! Oink oink oink!"
"Look out, it's the cookie monster!"
"If you're talking monsters, she's more like Godzilla!"
Suddenly being able to have cookies whenever she wanted didn't seem so awesome anymore.
She wished that she had wished for something cooler, like the ability to fly, or laser eye beams, or something. In fact, she grew to regret her wish so much that it was better if she hadn't made any wish at all. She learned to forget her powers.
She grew up to hate cookies, and sweets of any kind. She went on, and lived a pretty ordinary life. She learned to settle, nay, *aim* for ordinary.
One day, while the woman was crossing the street home from work, she saw a group of girls laughing and smiling. At first, she thought that they were just kids having fun. But when she looked again, she saw that the girl in the middle wasn't laughing and smiling like the others. This one had her eyes cast down and looked as if she might cry.
"You're so fat. Why do you have to be fat?"
"Yeah, I bet you could be pretty if you tried harder."
"Guys, it's not her fault if she can't control herself around pizza."
"Yeah guys, it's not her fault she turns into a pig everytime."
She marched right up to the group. "There you are! Your mother has been looking all over for you! You were supposed to be home 15 minutes ago," she said, kneeling down and putting her hands on the girl's shoulders, "You're going to be late for soccer practice."
The other girls apparently lost interest and dispersed.
"Thank you miss, but I don't know you. I shouldn't be talking to strangers--"
The lady smiled, and held out her hand. All of a sudden, a handful of chocolate chip cookies appeared. The girl smiled with wonder. | 2015-03-06T23:18:21 | 2015-03-06T23:01:15 | 316 | 130 |
[WP] They called you a madman for raiding the history museum during a zombie apocalypse. What they didn't expect was for full plate armour to be so effective. | The end began years before the pandemic did, even though I did not realize it at the time..
No one could have foreseen that unlike the previous year's coronavirus, SARS3-CoV-20 would have the power to create zombies. No one prepared for it; the media did not warn us; President Trump couldn't even be bothered to tweet about it; it should have spelled doom for us all.
I was a regular visitor to the Philadelphia Art Museum long before the pandemics. As a child going with my parents, the thing that I enjoyed most about the museum was its display of medieval armor. Even as I grew older, I was fascinated by the artistry of the metal suits. I took particular notice of the fact that one suit looked like it would just fit me.
As the zombies began pouring into the streets, the madness was all over our television screens. Confronted with a mad (or at least madder) world, I had a mad idea. I made my way downtown carrying a bat with a nail in it, smashing zombie heads along the way. An annoying number of the zombies were on the Parkway, many of them from the homeless encampment which had been infected in the early stages of the outbreak. Fortunately, none of them followed me into the Art Museum.
The armor was a tight fit. I actually cut my arm squeezing into one of the sleeves, but there was no time to worry about tetanus shots. As I slowly made my way out onto the Parkway again, there was a harried looking camera crew filming the carnage. The female reporter, in between stopping to preen her hair, pointed me out to the cameraman, who fixed his lens on me. "Get that," she said, "At least that idiot's death should get some YouTube views."
The noise from me clattering down the art museum steps quickly attracted some zombies. I still had my bat with me (the swords at the museum had all looked dull), and I quickly went to work. It took me a few tries to get the swing just right with the armor, but I had time. No human teeth could bite through steel. Within a few minutes, I was crushing zombie skulls at a record pace. By and large, I stood in one place, letting the zombies come to me. Walking in armor is tiring.
As it became clear I wasn't dying, but actually having some success, people began to rally around me. The remnants of the police force straggled into the Museum and equipped themselves with armor. The video taken by the camera crew went viral, and people in cities around the world followed my example. You've no doubt seen the hundreds of videos; my favorite is the group in Tokyo who equipped themselves with samurai armor and kitanas. Those who could not find armor improvised their own. Several cities in Canada were saved by armies of people in hockey gear.
And that is why all you students are gathered here today. Since the zombie outbreak ended, all countries around the world have implemented armor training as part of their mandatory school curriculum. Work hard, and I wish you luck. | \-=-=-
Day 3, My friends and I managed to get some supplies from the supermarket without attracting too much attention from other survivors or the undead, When planning our next move I made the suggestion of raiding the old history museum, They just laughed and called me a madman, I kept insisting that the old armor they have there would be great against the undead that just made them laugh even harder.
Dan the madman they started calling me, I show them.
&#x200B;
Day 4, I packed my bag and planned out the trip to the museum, it'll take roughly a half a day to get there if I take the safe routes.
&#x200B;
Day 5, I managed to get around most of the city with out the undead noticing me, I did encounter a few in the alleyways but they were easily dealt with, My friends tried contacting me over the walkie talkies, I just told them I was hunkered down in an old apartment for the night. Just in front of me I can see the museum, Looks like some survivors have made it there home or a temporary shelter judging from the makeshift walls, gonna have to sneak in tomorrow for now I'll get some rest...
&#x200B;
Day 6, I kept an eye on the museum this morning and heard a lot of gunfire during the early morning it quieted down a little while after, I watched as the undead were drawn away from the museum they seem to be following a survivor who ran out of the museum, I figured this would be my best chance to get into the museum while the undead are distracted...
&#x200B;
Day 7, I spent the rest of yesterday fortifying the front door and trying on some armor until I found one that fit well enough, My friends haven't contacted me for a few days now, I'm afraid the worse has happened...
\-=-=-
As Dan finished writing in his journal, his walkie talkie lit up someone was yelling for help, Dan instinctively answered to call to help and packed his bags with what little supplies he had left and picked out his sword and headed to the front door. He pushed aside the blockade and swung open the door sword in hand ready to face the world...
In the end survivors considered Dan a legend, a person who helps when you need it most and disappears without a trace, years passed since his last sighting. Some say he finally settled down, others say he left Britain and headed overseas, other say he was just a myth made by survivors to give each other hope... | 2020-09-14T09:45:10 | 2020-09-14T09:10:39 | 29 | 17 |
[WP] You build a robot to do your every day tasks for you so you don't have to work anymore. One day, you come home to find that your robot has built another robot to do its tasks for it. | It got out of hand the fifth robot down the line. I programmed the first robot, A2, just to do my basic functions (I'm a computer programmer and robotic engineer) and my most boring tasks (chores, etc.) I'm good at my job - really good - and my robotic side projects are starting to generate some real income. In a year, I reckon I'll be able to move out of my dad's place and into my own apartment. Which is a good thing, because once my robots starting replicating so they could shun their work, my dad got really pissed.
"Look, son, *you're* the one supposed to be doing the work. Not another robot."
I see where I went wrong; I programmed them to be efficient, and to be proficient in robotics, and their simplest solution to doing things like cleaning the kitchen was to build another robot to do it, because that's what they're good at. The only problem was, soon I had three robots on the floor, doing nothing, and a fourth robot rapidly building a fifth. My dad would be home soon; I had to come up with something.
It was too late. My dad burst in after a long day at the beach with his girlfriend. "God damn it!" he said, dropping his inflatable raft. "They've gone recursive."
He walks over to me, frowning. "A1," he says to me, "what would possess you to build another robot? All you had to do was clean the kitchen."
He frowns and takes out my battery pack. All my subsequent robots scurry away. "My mom is going to be so pissed," is the last thing I hear before shutdown.
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r/TomTeller | Through avoiding having to wash my underwear, I stumbled across a new fundamental Law of the universe. Simply stated, any robot created to do work that its creator clearly doesn't want to do will inherit its creator's propensity for shirking responsibilities. I call it the Laziness principle, or LP for short.
Thanks to LP, my home theater and other cherished electronics were undeservedly cannibalized. It took my original chore-bot a little while to put together its chore-bot. Its chore-bot synthesized its chore-bot a little quicker, and so far that trend has remained the same... Which means the longer I wait, the faster my toys are going to get slaughtered.
My problem with putting an end to the self-perpetuating scientific experiment that is my apartment is this: what if by letting it continue I can outsource mankind's search for nanotechnology? Each generation of chore-bot is smaller, more efficient, and more desperate to create its own substitute than the last. Therefore, it's only a matter of time until something is washing my dishes on a molecular level, conspiring with itself to make something smaller.
Future scientific discoveries aside, all these dominoes falling over makes me wonder: did God make us just to wash His underwear? | 2017-11-20T08:26:53 | 2017-11-20T08:24:53 | 3,392 | 15 |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord, living in the countryside. Ten years after your crushing defeat the heroes come for your help. | Warm water filled the filthy bathtub to the brim. I dropped myself, splashing some onto the rotted tile nearby. I tried to relax my heartbeat as I sunk deeper. I put my head underwater for a few seconds, just enough to trigger my body's panic response.
It was nice to feel something, at last. I repeated the cycle a few times, until my chest was heaving and I was sputtering. I glanced out the window and saw a vehicle racing up my dusty driveway. How odd, I hadn't had visitors since...since I was destroyed and exiled from my land. I crawled out of the tub and searched for clean clothes. I settled for a wrinkled polo and khakis. They hung loosely on my skeletal frame. It would have to do.
Men in bandanas and dark clothes jumped out of the vehicle. My breath caught as I saw the pistols on their hips. So little had changed. They banged on the door – it was deja vu to their last visit, a decade ago. Different circumstances to be sure, but I smiled at the irony.
I opened the door and let them in. “Please sit down,” my voice croaked. It had been so long, too long, since I had spoken to another.
Three of the men grimaced, refusing to make eye contact. Chase was the only one who acknowledged my presence. He sat at the head of the table, staring hard at me. He had aged greatly; dark bags spread beneath his conflicted eyes.
“This is going to be awkward for both of us, but I'll cut to the chase. Butcher- um, I mean...Mr. Prime Minister, we could use your assistance.”
I blanched. Not at the nickname, I had brushed that one off long ago. But the idea that these stupid idealists would come begging at my doorstep, after all that had been done...
The three companions stared at the floor, lips and eyes tight. Chase still held his gaze, the internal conflict playing out across his face.
I struggled for words. “The grand revolution didn't pan out?”
Chase smacked the table with a heavy hand.
“The revolution worked! The people are the problem, they won't...they can't be controlled. It started in the capitol and its spreading. We've tried everything; lower taxes, more privileges, more access to the government...Bandits are claiming the countryside and insurgents are taking over the cities. I-i...didn't know where else to go.” He truly looked lost.
None of the problems were new to me, of course. I had ruled for forty years before these insolent pups had come along and set the spirit of my people aflame. Weeks of bloodshed and chaos had undone decades of my strong rule. Only now were they starting to realize the consequences of playing Hero.
“And what would you suggest, Mr. Prime Minister?” I asked Chase. “Shall I come back and restore my old government?” It was a joke of course, to gauge how desperate they were.
Chase and the companions shared a glance. Jesus, I thought, they must have actually discussed this.
“We're prepared to negotiate a transition,” he said. | Hmph. "Dark Lord." I don't know about that. That's what the media named me, but make no mistake, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't feel the raw guilt of my...my history...
I did what I had to do to protect my family, protect their future. The futures of my children. The stereotype of evil is that the "villain" shows no remorse for the killing, the tormenting of the "hero." Now I know by definition I was a villain and I do not deny that, but I remember...I remember every single name of every single person's life I ended.
Today...today marks ten years since I retired. I drink my black coffee and look out across the mountain range, my foggy breath emitting from my mouth. The icy mountain air pierces my skin and cools the surface of my flannel shirt. It's the only time I am at peace. Since ten years ago.
The man they call "Platinum Man," the shimmering silver lining of the city, the protector of homes and children, the one who can do...no...wrong. He found my daughter. She was eleven... I tried to protect her, but Platinum Man hit me out of the way. Instead of coming after me to finish me off, he struck my daughter. He killed my daughter.
See, there are no heroes. Everyone has their own motivation, their own passions. I had mine. I believe Platinum Man's passion is the fame and attention, being a public, heroic figure. But he's no hero.
But this is the calm I've found. My new life: the serenity and peace balance out the dark place I've lived in for ten years. I exhale in contentedness.
I see a battered jeep managing to drive up the rocky road up to my cabin's porch, dented and dirty from the turbulent drive.
Out of the car comes a man, familiar, with a few more scars since I last saw him. Two girls get out of the jeep with him, both unfamiliar to me.
"John," the man says, solemnly. "I...we need your help."
Platinum Man needs my help. Hmph.
"That part of my life is behind me. I don't know if I could bring myself to help you anyway...And I see you brought your new 'hero' girlfriends."
Expecting a quippy reply, he says nothing, uncomfortably ruffling his hand in his hair. "John...we need you. We have no choice."
People call me a villain. But I do have sympathy. I damn myself for this trait. With a sigh I say, "Come in...tell me everything." | 2017-06-09T07:50:58 | 2017-06-09T07:50:52 | 41 | 25 |
[WP] You picked up an injured cat and patched it up overnight. The next morning, you woke up to see a family of witches standing beside your bed, and one of them is holding the injured cat in her arms. That witch said, “My cat wants to adopt you. So you’re now one of us.” | If my childhood was a fairy story, it was more Baba Yaga than grinning mouse.
Instead of beautiful flowing locks, I had a ramen noodle mullet and a humpty dumpty build. Being an eight year old girl was no picnic. To “toughen me up”, my well-meaning mother enrolled me in The Brownies, a military youth organisation.
The other kids didn’t so much bully as ignore me completely, despite constant attempts to fit in. Brown Owl, advanced in years, looked like she hated every single one of us. Her assistant stood by her like a proud bulldog.
The days ground by, a tide of tiny humiliations eroding my sense of self, my patience and my dignity until one day we embarked on a field trip into the Old Woods.
Back in those days you didn’t get paperwork or lawsuits. My haircut was proof of that. So while a stretch of foreboding dark woodland was a less than desirable location, it was both available and free of charge.
We trudged along, Frown Owl’s eyes daring us to enjoy ourselves, Brawny Owl cheerfully bellowing us forward. It was broad daylight, but hardly any sun broke through the dense fir trees. We reached the old fire pit, awkwardly sitting down to unpack our packed lunches. In the unspoken hierarchy I sat right at the end, adults in the middle.
It was there I heard a tiny plaintive mew. Everyone continued to eat as if they hadn’t heard a thing. Then a tiny anguished yowl. Hangry, possibly feverish and of course invisible, I got up and silently walked towards the noise, shivers of excitement multiplying as nobody paid attention.
A short while away I saw the origin of those distress calls. A quivering bundle of leaves demanding my attention. I carefully moved some aside to see the bloodied snout of the cutest little creature you could imagine. His giant golden eyes regarded me then relaxed. My poor, neglected heart flooded with love for the poor, wretched creature and I swear I felt him smile. Because he knew.
I felt a strong sense that we needed to get back, so I carefully scooped him up into my brown bobble hat and double-tracked our way to camp. The silence of before was now a burble of muted conversation. I saw he wanted to be placed gently in my pack, and that the pack be reversed like a papoose. I did as I was asked.
Frown Owl stared at the sight of her chunkiest recruit throwing convention to the wind as her face darkened. Then it didn’t. She broke into a wide smile, loudly praising my knowledge of Native American culture as every single girl silently turned their pack around.
The trip home felt positively charged and full of possibilities. Everyone wished me goodbye as my parents arrived early to collect us, beaming as they set eyes on me. They greeted the new addition to our family like an old friend, fussing over him with blankets, warm milk and a place near the fire. I went to sleep right next to him; nobody seemed to mind.
I woke up face to face with Brown Owl, her scowl discarded like an old Halloween mask.
“Aegeus chooses you” She smiled.
&#x200B;
WC: 540 | “My cat wants to adopt you, so you’re now one of us,” one of them said.
I blinked and tried to process the scene in front of me. I had woken up to a group of strangers standing over my bed talking nonsense. A group of women and men(?) were dressed in old, worn out clothing. Mostly black dresses and strange hats. They wore eclectic and disturbing jewelry - necklaces made of bones of small animals, earrings that were strangely furry, one had yellow eyes and I thought I glimpsed a long black tail. And in the middle of them was the cat I had bandaged and fed last night, purring.
My fight or flight instinct kicked in. My heart started pounding. Was I in danger? How was I going to get past them and escape? Who were these people and why were they in my room??
“Who are you people and why are you in my room?!” I demanded.
I was not particularly interested in the answer to the question. I grabbed my alarm clock - the best weapon in range - and sprang out of bed.
“GET OUT!,” I roared, holding the clock above my head and threatening to throw it. “Get out! I’m calling the police!!”
The strangers were wide-eyed and clearly startled. One covered her head in anticipation of a flying clock. The one at the back of the group covered his eyes. The cat had reacted first, leaping over the whole group and sprinting away down my hallway.
They all started to talk at once -
“Hey we’re —“
“Stop! Abigail!”
“He’s got a clock!”
The front homeless woman (???) simply froze in disbelief. I threw my clock at her. It let out a loud “ding” as it bounced off her head.
“Ow! What the hell? Why would you do that?” She asked, as she backed out of my room.
What did she expect? With my only weapon gone I felt naked. Oh... I *was* naked. That explained why my tactic had worked.
I rushed forward and shoved the last one out of my room. She didn’t need much convincing. I locked the door.
“I’m calling the police!” I shouted again through the door.
I heard some shuffling and then... silence. Sudden and strange silence. I waited and listened. My dented clock ticked sadly on the floor.
I opened the door and peeked out. They had vanished. I grabbed my clock again and crept out into the living area, ready for another round.
No one was there. Even the cat was gone. Actually - so was my TV. God damn it.
That was the last time I forgot to lock my front door. | 2020-12-05T08:07:28 | 2020-12-05T07:25:32 | 27 | 17 |
[WP] You find three little puppies sleeping on your porch. Actually, upon closer inspection, it’s not three little puppies. It’s Cerberus, Hade’s three headed dog. The collar around the middle head reads, “Cerberus. If lost, please call Hell. (666-666-6666)” | My own dogs barking their heads off inside, I observed the little heads as they playfully nipped at one another. I chuckled to myself when all three heads looked at me expectantly while the one tiny tail wagged exuberantly.
Certain I was being filmed for a YouTube prank channel I called the number on their collar. A mildly bored voice scratched across the line "Thank you for calling Hell, how may I direct your call?"
"Um. I have Cerberus sitting on my front porch?" Certainly not a sentence I thought I would utter today.
"Yes. I see. Please hold."
I had to admit this prank was getting funny. They had thought of everything. Right down to the Macarena playing in place of elevator music.
"Hello? You have Cerberus? Thank goodness! Don't move, I'll be right there!"
The phone went silent as I attempted to argue with dead air. "No, there is no come here. Can't you teleport this thing?" It took me a moment to realize the voice on the other end had been that of a woman.
"Cerberus! You naughty thing! Hades would have been beside himself!" A terrifyingly beautiful woman ran up the sidewalk towards my house. As she did so the plants began to sprout blooming flowers. In January. The diaphanous skirt of her rose colored dress flowed with a life of its own as she swept the happy puppy (puppies?) into her arms.
Not one for a poker face, my mouth hung open in noticeable confusion. I looked to the flowers again. "You're Persephone? I mean Queen Persephone, Your Majesty? I don't know what to call you. Please don't kill me."
When she laughed it was equally beautiful and horrific. Her laugh was the soothing melody of babbling brooks and birds. But her smile. Scarlet lips that had once dripped pomegranate twisted in a way that made it clear she could easily and happily devour me. Spring and Death entwined together.
"Persephone is fine seeing as you saved me from dealing with a sulky husband who couldn't find his dog." The heads seemed to sense they were being talked about and yapped in reply. "I was out of the Underworld giving this country a brief taste of spring before you get a blizzard next week and this little guy must have slipped out."
Of course. Because how else would the three headed dog of the Underworld find itself on my brick patio? Despite my growing certainty that one of my students had slipped a hallucinogen into my iced tea, I found myself nodding along as if this were a perfectly normal occurrence. "I am just glad he is going home where he belongs." Oh my God. Am I seriously saying this to the Queen of the Underworld?
She was clearly amused by my awkward discomfort. "I like you." At that point I wasn't sure if that was a good thing. "Those poems you post about me on your Pinterest board are pretty accurate. I chose to be an adored Queen. But when old men write your story..." She rolled her eyes and shrugged. It was a strangely human gesture I wasn't expecting. "I know you don't expect anything in return but believe me when I say I owe you big time. So take this." She pressed a beautiful silver pill type box into my hand. "If you ever need me, just take one of those and I will be there. For love or vengeance. " She winked before fading from my sight.
I squeezed the box as tightly as I could, confirming that this was actual reality. A reality where Greek Gods lose their dogs and need your help. I looked around one more time for cameras or speakers or even an overhead drone that would signal the end of an elaborate joke. When there was none I popped open the little box Persephone had given me. Inside were 3 pomegranate seeds. | "What's not to like? It's three times the dog and a third the poop," With a phone in one hand and the largest jug of enzyme cleaner available on the market, the woman sighed across the line, "Yeaaaah... no I know, I was wrong about that too. If I'm not joking about it I'm crying so I think this is a good alternative. to. that... Hold on." The woman took the phone from her ear, listening.
Whines, sloshing, a high pitched cacophony muted by the door and distance. Her cats yowled, concerned, from the other room.
She adjusted the jug and mountain of towels, "You're really going to owe me one, that's fine right?"
On the other side a clipped Midwest voice, deep and male responded, "Of course. I appreciate that you're willing to look after him until I can get there. Normally, when he gets out I either get wackos trying to use him as a bargaining chip or just...screaming. Lots of screaming." He chuckled, "It's worth it to owe you a favor if it means I can avoid all of that. I'll be able to pick him up around 4am, traffic to your area right now is horrendous."
She snorted, "Been a lot of business my way with all these fires, so I know what you mean." She leaned against the counter to adjust her grip on the jug, "Count yourself lucky Cerb somehow found himself this far North."
"Thanks again Sam, let me know if you run into any trouble. He can be a real handful."
"Goes without saying, doesn't it?" The whining from the bathroom increased in pitch, "Look, I'll let you go, I think he's at his limit. I'll see you tonight," Her hand hovered over the 'End' button.
"'Night Sam, don't kill yourself," came the smooth response, she laughed, "Right, too easy, take care." A couple of low beeps later, Sam left the phone on the counter.
Picking her way over the sad broken remains of the couch, she stopped in front of the bookshelf, graciously untouched by carnage. She doused the charred carpet with cleaner, for as much good as it would do, draping towels over the spot before moving on. Blood covered the walls and tinged the sconce enough that the light in the hallway was a throbbing red, too much to do here, Sam resolved, this is a job for Hades to clean.
Frowning, she turned her attention to the floor and studied the stain where water and filth seeped from the bathroom door. She dampened another towel with cleaner and tossed it on the mess with more towels, more cleaner. She reached for the handle on the door, but stopped when she noticed the radiating heat from the thing. With her last towel wrapped around her hand, she opened the door with a hiss.
"Cerberus, oh my god, youaresopathetic, come her to auntie." She went to the tub where a thoroughly dejected puppy sat, still whimpering, his fur stuck in all directions where it had mostly dried. The fan in the room had died trying to handle the heat. RIP fan. The oppressive sauna like steam pasted Sam's hair to her face as she reached in, swaddled him and tucked the dog into her arms like an adorable football. She tousled him dry and pet each of his heads until he playfully started nipping at her fingers and acting more like himself with each passing moment.
Skritching under his chins she cooed, "What the Hell am I going to do with you?" | 2018-08-08T15:30:37 | 2018-08-08T14:41:01 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] Group of space Marines travels via a stargate like portal to an "virgin" world. However due to passing a black hole, each Marine arrives 100 years after the Marine in front of them, instead of 1-5 seconds.
Due to the portal queuing up the dozen or so Marines for 1200 years, travel to point of origin is not an option(it won't work until all the marines have made it through). Explain what each Marine sees as they step out of the portal, to discover they are alone, and possible viewing the remains/artifacts of those who came before them, and or the civilization created by those in front of them with native peoples. | A marine stepped through the portal.
He surveyed the land, and beheld a lush, uncharted rainforest.
A marine stepped through the portal.
He looked forward into the clearing, and saw an exotic hut surrounded by plots of abandoned farmland.
A marine stepped through the portal.
He peered around, and was greeted by plains as far as the eyes could see.
A marine stepped through the portal.
He fell six feet onto gravel, and saw unfamiliar silhouettes carrying lumber across the scenic village.
A marine stepped through the portal.
He blinked in confusion, thoroughly befuddled by the sight of a sixteen-foot bronze statue of his platoon commander.
A marine stepped through the portal.
He slowly lifted his gaze, awed by the kaleidoscopic sunlight shining through the cathedral windows.
A marine stepped through the portal.
He caught his breath, finding himself facing a steam locomotive roaring past at amazing speeds.
A marine stepped through the portal.
He looked around, then cursed James for sending him to New York.
A marine stepped through the portal.
He barely caught a glimpse of the fireball that engulfed him.
A marine stepped through the portal.
He desperately clawed at the terrain, but saw only barren earth.
The last marine took a minute to set the wormhole generator on auto-shutoff, and stepped through the portal.
He surveyed the land, and beheld a lush, uncharted rainforest. | There was no sign of civilization. Not a single sentient lifeform exist. The world is untouch, and the bravest marine of all is the first human that have laid eyes upon them. It doesn't take him too long to realize what happened, and the mistake they made is too big for him to fix. Years of training comes in handy in that foreign place. With the dense trees and vegetation around him, it almost feel like home. A knife in one hand, ropes around the belt, a water bottle and a bag with a notebook. He's ready to explore the uncharted land.
A hundred year have passed, a lonely marine steps out of the.portal to this new world. He saw a sign, taking him to a large shelter on top of a huge tree. He look around, finding detailed map, sketches and drawing describing this foreign world to him. On a desk lies a notebook, old and worn out. He flips the first page, revealing a sentence written in red "DO NOT GO BEYOND THE LINE"...
| 2014-09-02T10:07:22 | 2014-09-02T09:22:16 | 342 | 71 |
[WP] You were born with the ability to know what is wrong with a piece of broken technology just by touching it. One day, as you’re shaking someone’s hand you see an error message. | When I met first met Dave he seemed like a normal guy. He was a new employee of mine at the garage and though we’d talked we’d never really got to know each other. One Friday evening I was closing up shop and he offered to grab a drink. My husband and kids weren’t expecting me at home soon so I agreed, thinking why not. We talked pleasantly of nothing for a while and then went to part ways. And that would have been that – except that as we left he offered his hand to shake. Grabbing it, I was immediately met with the all too familiar error message and panic signals that tell me something is malfunctioning.
Let me back up a bit. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a gift with technology – hardware specifically. Whenever I touch some that is malfunctioning, error messages rush my brain and I am flooded with anxiety. It took me a while to learn how to use this – I could know vaguely what was wrong with something, but with neither the vocabulary nor the skills to fix it there was nothing I could do. Nevertheless my ‘gift’ has proved invaluable and I now run my own garage repair shop.
But back to Dave. The messages I was getting were telling me two pieces of confusing information: one, that Dave was somehow technology-based and two, that there was something wrong with him. These "malfunctions" seemed to be hardcoded faults – most notably a quick temper and an allergy to peanuts. Most disturbingly however, I sensed a complete lack of consciousness within him. What did that mean? Was Dave programmed? And was he programmed intentionally with imperfections?
I held his hand for too long and seemingly weirded out he pulled away. Indeed Dave acted for the rest of the time that I knew him as if he was oblivious to me knowing anything sinister or robotic about him. He laughed off my android jokes and on more than one occasion I saw him bleed after minor incidents at the garage. By no means proof of anything, but enough to convince myself to let the issue be.
That was over ten years ago. Since that time I’ve met dozens of people – and I include among those some whom I would count as friends – who give me these same error messages and show no sign of inner consciousness. These people act indistinguishably from those around them, making from time to time the same kind of mistakes that I would describe as human. My gift has never failed me before. But so consumed with this was I that I have gone as far – and, forgive me for this – as to seek out the dead body of one such individual. Not only did he seem wholly and positively dead, but the morticians never described anything unusual (like a robot brain!) about the autopsy performed on him. Nevertheless his dead body gave me the same error message as his live one did, only now there was an additional "flaw", in the form of a new instruction: DO NOT REACT.
My only conclusion is that these flesh robots have more in common with zombies than you or I. Outwardly they show all the signs of consciousness - reacting to stimuli with appropriately human emotions. But precisely the point I want to make is that they are only reacting. There is no higher mind inside telling them to do the things that they do. They are not conscious, they only act as if they are! These zombies now walk among and imitate us. To what end I cannot guess. I became more and more terrified until I decided to follow what appeared to be the simplest plan of action; to ignore the problem.
That was working smoothly until I hugged my older daughter this morning. Overrun by error signals I froze, in panic and in shock. Apparently aware something was wrong she questioned me, begging me to tell her why I was crying. I could not answer her so I have fled upstairs. The proposition that my daughter has always been this way is impossible – I have held her countless times and I am after all, the one who gave birth to her. This leaves however, a more frightening possibility; that someone has taken my daughter and replaced her with a zombie. Am I going mad? Can I continue to love this… thing that looks and acts exactly as my daughter does, even though I know inside her head there is nothing and she is no more alive than a robot who simply responds to commands? What, should I do? | “Nice to meet you, I’m Tiffany.” She offered her hand.
“And I’m Rex.” He took her hand in his, and in that instant, an alarm that he had never expected to hear, rang off in his head. From the corner of his eye, he could see the error message screaming at him.
*Defective android.*
His first instinct was to pull back his hand, but his manners got the better of him. Still, the slight tug was noticeable enough for her. She smiled at him and released her grip to save him from embarrassment.
“Sorry, it’s just that I am not good at such meetings.” Rex lied.
“Yeah, me neither.” Rex could not tell whether she was patronising him. In any case, he was already evaluating his options. She was a defective android and it was a federal crime to be associated with one. They were considered dangerous, at least that was what the Android Collective had declared them to be. But these were so rare that in all of his forty years, he had never encountered one.
Till today.
“I was really looking forward to meeting you today.” She quipped, brushing aside her cropped auburn locks.
Rex felt the same. They had been chatting over a dating app for the past six months and had really hit it off. He had been single for almost all of his life, with no success in love, till he found her on the app. Their conversations really took off, like as if they were made for each other. It started from text messages, to phone calls to video calls. So, his feelings had gradually developed for her over the past half a year despite them not physically meeting. Today was the day that they had arranged to meet, and both of them had been looking forward to it.
“Are you okay? Was it something I said?” She gently touched Rex’s arm and the warning screamed across his eyes again.
*Should I tell her?*
“No, no. It’s just that…” He paused for a while. “I know that you have a defect in your programming.” Rex forced the words out of his mouth, looking away as he did so.
“Oh, that. I’m kinda used to it. Makes you feel more alive, in a way.”
*What? How could she be so nonchalant about it? And she didn’t even bother to ask how I knew?*
“How are you so calm about this? Aren’t you going to ask me how I found out about your defect?” Rex was getting exasperated.
She gave Rex a smile, the same one he had seen so many times over their late night video calls, and the one he fell in love with.
“The same way I found out about yours.”
*The handshake? So, she knew?*
As if to answer his question, she added, “At the moment we touched, I knew.”
*We are alike.*
For the first time in his life, Rex felt overjoyed. He had finally met someone of his own kind – a fellow defective android. Outcast by the Android Collective, they were androids whose programming were considered an anomaly. They were androids who had developed human emotions, and they had learnt what it was to be elated, furious, sorrowful, and had experienced the whole spectrum of emotions that no other android could ever experience. Branded as dangerous individuals who threatened the fragile trust between humans and androids, the Android Collective hunted them aggressively, all for the sake of maintaining the peace.
In that instant, Rex knew that he had found his soulmate. Someone who would never judge him, or shun him, or betray him.
Giving in to his emotions, he held both of Tiffany’s hands and looked into her eyes.
“Be with me, forever.”
She flashed him her trademark smile.
“Gladly.” | 2020-10-24T10:56:22 | 2020-10-24T10:25:13 | 42 | 30 |
[WP] On every planet, there is one being who is a living recorder for everything that happens. During the yearly recorder meeting, one always comes in emotionally drained. “Look. It’s the guy that has earth” | Z'Tok sighed as he sat down on his chair. Everyone around the large table stole a look at him. He had the toughest job out of all the recorders.
"All Rise."
The Chief entered the room, smiling at everyone. His smile wavered a bit when he got to Z'Tok but the old being was good at keeping his emotions hidden. He took his seat at the head of the table.
"Before we start the proceedings, I'd like to offer our sincerest thanks to ZaphodB, who's retiring today after 35 ticks of recording the history of the planet Betelgeuse. He will be replaced by his cousin FordP. Let's give it up one time for our newest recorder."
Everyone clapped and a few of the recorders waved their towels, welcoming the new member.
"We'd also like to thank the following people who achieved some milestones this year."
The chief droned on, listing people who had completed their 7th, 13th, 18th anniversaries but Z'Tok was lost in a mind of his own.
"And finally lets all put our hands together for Z'Tok, who completed 42 ticks on Earth this time around."
The applause was a bit muffled, but the momentum of clappings and whoopings carried it through.
Z'Tok gave them a weak smile and then lowered his head back down and continued to look at his notes.
The chief looked at Z'Tok. The Earth recorder looked weary and old. Surprising, considering he was so young as compared to some of the others. The chief was worried for the boy.
"So before we recount important events and go over the highlights, I'll open up the room to anyone. Anyone has any news or announcements, they'd like to make? Also, a reminder that after 5 ticks on one planet, you're eligible to ask for a transfer. I will try my best to make it happen."
All eyes turned again to Z'Tok who continued to sit with his head down, not making eye contact with anyone.
The chief waited for a beat or two, sighed and continued talking. "Ok, then, we start."
Every recorder stood up, giving a few details about their planets. Z'tok took his turn and in a clinical emotionless voice listed down the major happenings on earth. He took the more time than anyone else, listing down things in great detail. Everyone shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Earth seemed like a bad place to spend a single tick, let alone 42. Yet Z'Tok continued on.
After everyone had their turn The Chief congratulated everyone on a successful meeting. "Alright everyone. See everyone back here next time. This year, the feast is at Milliways, so we'll meet there later. There will be food, spirits, fun. Let's celebrate the finishing of this tick and the beginning of a new one together. Uh... Z'Tok, Earth Recorder, 42, do you mind staying back?"
Z'Tok looked at the chief, surprised. "Sure chief."
Everyone filed out of the room, joking and high fiving each other till only 2 people remained in the room.
"Z... how've you been?"
"I'm fine, Chief."
"Z, drop the chief. How're you? Really."
"I'm fine, dad. I really am."
"Listen, I want you to consider...."
"I'm not going to stop being the earth's recorder, dad."
"It's a hellish job. It hurts me to see you go through this over and over again. Come back son. You don't need this. Stop punishing yourself. Your mother wouldn't have wanted this."
Z smiled. "Maybe not. But this is what I want."
"The accident was not your fault."
Z shifted uncomfortably.
"Besides, it's been so long. You have to forgive yourself."
"I have learnt to live with it father. It's not about mom anymore."
"Is it that earthling? How is she, by the way?"
"She died. Earthlings don't live that long."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Well then it's even more reason for you to leave that planet and the bad memories you have associated with it. You've lost your mom, your wife there. There's nothing but tragedy of death there."
"There's also the miracle of life."
The Chief looked at him curiously. "Listen, you have to keep countless senseless tragedies in your mind. No one should have to carry your burden. Retire. We will wipe away all the memories as per protocol. You can leave all the sadness behind. How many deaths did you record this year?"
"Millions. But I also saw a little kid take her first steps. I also saw humans banding together to help each other in times of trouble. I also saw a rose. A simple thing, a flower. But something so unique to earth. Have you ever smelt a rose, father?"
"Is the smell so good that you're willing to carry so much weight?"
"Living with the humans, as a human has made me appreciate their world. Sure, there's bad apples. But majority of the people, at their core are good people. I'm good there."
The chief looked at his son, who had crash landed on earth 42 ticks ago and had somehow gotten stuck there forever.
Z picked up a bell from the table. "Can I take this?"
"What for?"
Z blinked his eyes and an image of a young kid was projected into the room. "R'Tok. Earth name Priya. She'd like the sound."
The Chief raised his eyebrows as he looked at the little girl.
"I might hold much sadness in my heart, dad. But when she laughs, it's all worth it. When she holds my hand, life is good. She has her mother's eyes too. And her grandmother's smile. I can't leave any of that behind. You should come visit us sometime. If not, I'll see you here next year." | It was the yearly recorder meeting, when the party was already going.
"Earth's watcher is still missing, right?"
The Great Beast's planet watcher said.
"Yeah, as usually he's late. No magic, no autonomous machine civilisation, no galactic civilisation, yet the humans of Earth can give him so much to do."
Kepler's planet watcher said.
As the two were talking, a figure walked in.
It was a tall, thin, pale looking woman, with sunken eyes, and blood red hair.
It was Earth's watcher.
&#x200B;
"Finally here?"
The Great Beast's planet watcher asked, approaching her with a drink.
"Oh yes...Thank the Great Creator that I arrived at all..."
She said, chuckling weakly.
"It was that bad this year?"
Kepler's planet watcher asked.
"You can't even begin to imagine."
Earth's watcher said, finishing the drink in one big gulp.
&#x200B;
"Tell us, maybe it will be better."
The Great Beast's planet watcher said.
"Well, a plague, a tonne of misinformation, country ending calamities hitting every now and then, though they are solved so it's okay."
She said, drinking her sorrows away.
"It's probably more than this."
Kepler's watcher said.
"Oh, you can bet on it."
She said laughing.
&#x200B;
"Come on, don't keep us on edge, tell us."
The Great Beast's watcher urged.
"Well, the countries there are teasing each other with war, literal war, over amusing things like pride, and bad word usage...
Then let's not even forget that instead of working together against the plague, they are still pointing fingers at each other, trying to blame someone else for nature's work."
Earth's watcher said, shaking her head, sighing.
"I would understand if it were a magical civilisation, with empires, and kingdoms, but from you I know, that country borders aren't that well respected these last few years.
Everyone going to live where they can afford to live."
Kepler's watcher said.
"If magic would exist on Earth, you would have 10 galactic Emperor's in a decade, and a wasted system in a century.
The humans of Earth, are as adaptable as the Insect Race, as cunning as the Fox Clan, as strong willed as the Berserker Barbarians and as greedy as Greed himself, good luck trying to pacify them after they will realise other civilisation exist"
Earth's watcher said sighing.
&#x200B;
The 2 watchers froze a bit at that statement.
Indeed, when Earth becomes a galactic civilisation, interactions will be inevitable...
The 2 of them gulped in terror at this realisation.
Earth's watcher realised this, and chuckled.
"Don't worry, I already filled in the magical advancement, and planet ending cataclysm form.
I am planning to advance their civilisation in another direction, while putting a huge pressure on them."
She said, smiling.
The two other watcher froze, and then paled.
&#x200B;
"Y-y-y-you did what?!?!?!"
The 2 of them asked, drawing attention from other attendees as well.
"You heard that right."
She said, shrugging.
"But how....do you think it will get approved?"
Kepler's watcher asked.
"The planet ending cataclysm will be my husband's presence.
More controllable danger than this can't exist.
And don't forget who I am, of course it will get approved."
She said.
&#x200B;
Indeed, she was the daughter of the founder of the watchers circle, and also the most talented watcher, being the one with most connections, and highest strength.
Then, the first part of what she said got acknowledged by the two.
"Your h-h-h-husband?"
The Great Beast's planet watcher asked, stuttering, and shivering a bit.
"Yep."
She said, nodding.
"The Great Eldritch, rumoured to be the 1st entity to be ever born in this universe?"
Kepler's watcher asked.
"That little piece of cowardly primordial matter indeed.
You already met him once, why are you so surprised?"
She said, chuckling.
The 2 indeed met him, and remembered his aura for a lifetime.
He might be meek in front of his wife, but he is known as the Devourer of Galaxies in this universe.
&#x200B;
The two quieted down, and let Earth's watcher drink in peace.
Everything at the meeting went on peacefully, and ended in a ranking.
Again, Earth has been ranked as the most difficult to assess, and Earth's watcher has been awarded as the most detailed reports submitting watcher.
&#x200B;
Before leaving, Great Beast's planet watcher, and Kepler's watcher stopped, Earth's watcher.
"Y-y-you will keep an eye on Earth, and your husband, right?"
Kepler's watcher asked.
Earth's watcher just rolled her eyes.
"I am Earth's watcher, and his wife, what do you think."
Saying this chuckling, she disappeared, and left for Earth...as who knows what happened in these few hours she was away. | 2021-08-13T07:56:11 | 2021-08-13T07:47:15 | 224 | 59 |
[WP] Your Grandma, a shape-shifter, is diagnosed with Alzheimers. She begins to forget her true form...or was it a disguise all along? | My grandparents had always been the handsomest couple I had ever known. They had both aged gracefully, their hair turning from brown to grey to a stark white and wrinkles appearing because of how often they smiled. Grandma’s bright blue eyes always looked into Grandma’s warm brown ones. I had never seen them wear outfits that didn’t match each other. Larry never went anywhere without his darling Darcy by his side. They’d been married for 64 years, and I still had never seen any two people more in love in my life.
Even when Grandma started forgetting things, Grandpa didn’t stop loving her. He took care of her every day, reminding her gently where she was every so often, helping her put on her clothes if she couldn’t do it herself that day. However, not even love could save Grandma from succumbing further into Alzheimer's. Eventually, Grandpa couldn’t do it himself anymore, and while it broke his heart, he put her into a care center. I had Grandpa move in with me for the time being—I couldn’t bear seeing him alone.
That’s when the strange things started happening. The first sign came on a Saturday. We had just come home from visiting Grandma when we received a call from the care center staff. They urged us to come visit quickly. Grandma had turned into someone else.
“What do you mean, someone else?” I had asked, confused.
The staff member paused for a moment, “I really think you should come see for yourself.”
I told Grandpa the news and we rushed back to the care center immediately. When we arrived by Grandma’s bedside, I could tell that the staff wasn’t joking. Instead of Grandma, my mother was sitting on the bed.
“Amelia?” Grandpa said, clearly confused by her appearance.
The woman on the bed giggled and shook her head, “No silly Larry, I’m Darcy.”
The staff member explained to us that she had changed right in front of her eyes. It was possible that she was a shape-shifter, although everyone had thought that the type had died out ages ago. However, Grandma could have hidden herself the entire time, to avoid discrimination.
Grandpa took the information in stride. He had loved her for many years, and this small fact wouldn’t change that. Darcy was smart, he said, and she must have had a reason for not telling him. And after that, Grandpa and I would always make bets on who she would appear as when we visited her. Once, she had even shifted into Grandpa, and that had made him chuckle.
“Would it be narcissistic if I told you that you look beautiful today?” He had told her.
As amusing as it was, shape-shifting wasn’t a good sign. It meant that her condition was deteriorating. And with each successive visit, we saw it happening in front of our eyes. Eventually she caught pneumonia, and one night we received call we were all expecting. The doctor told us to come in and say our goodbyes. She wasn’t going to make the night.
Everyone came to visit, and it was sad to see Grandma this way. Grandpa was the most dedicated, refusing to leave her side the entire day, holding on to her hand tightly, and telling her that he loved her.
Late into the evening, Grandma’s eyes opened and she looked over at Grandpa, she seemed to have a moment of sudden clarity, “Larry?”
“Yes Dar?” Grandpa responded, a slight excitement in his voice, a happiness that his beloved had remembered him.
“Larry, I’m sorry,” her knuckles turned white with how hard she was squeezing his hand, “I’m not Darcy, I’m Florence.”
Grandpa smiled, “No darling, you’re Darcy, remember?”
Grandma shook her head, “No, Larry, I’m Florence.”
Grandpa didn’t want to disturb her, and simply smiled, “Alright darling, I don’t care if you’re Darcy or Florence, I love you all the same.”
At this, Grandma smiled gently. Then suddenly her eyes glossed over and her hand went limp. Grandpa closed his eyes and gave Grandma’s hand one last kiss.
When Grandpa looked back up, Grandma had completely changed in appearance. Her eyes had become green, hair changing from the stark white into silver, more wrinkles appearing on her face. She had become a completely different person.
Grandpa furrowed his brows before letting out a gasp of disbelief. Then he bent over, and began to sob quietly. I was also shocked. Shape-shifters died in their original form, and this wasn’t the Grandma Darcy I knew.
It took a white before Grandpa composed himself and wiped away his tears with the handkerchief in his pocket. He looked up at me, with a look in his eyes I had never seen before.
“Florence was my best friend in high school, but she was very insecure about her looks, and disappeared after we graduated. A few months later Darcy appeared, a woman that had come straight out of my dreams, a woman who fit my every fantasy, who looked exactly my type. She always reminded me a lot of Florence, in a strange way.”
My eyes widened, and I realized.
“Florence, I would’ve loved you all the same,” Grandpa brushed her hair away from her face, “you didn’t need to change the way you looked.” | Dementia seemed to run in my family. I had heard second hand accounts from my parents and elder cousins on both sides about great-grand parents slowly forgetting their friends, their family and finally themselves. It sounded absolutely terrible. I never wanted to experience someone I loved going through that, watching someone I had known my whole life forget me was not something I looked forwards to. I tried not to think about my genes and just live my life.
I had put off visiting my Grandma for about three months. I couldn't put myself through it, but at some point I had realised that it was unfair. At the end of the day, it wasn't happening to me. It was happening to her. Perhaps it would happen to me someday, but right now it was my duty as a granddaughter to visit her. Surely, she would recognise me? I shuddered at idea of otherwise.
Gripping the small bouquet of flowers in my hand, I knocked lightly on the door to her room in the nursing home. There was a long silence that was tense enough for me to subconsciously snap the stem of half the flowers with my fist. They would be fine in a tall enough vase, I hoped as the flowers drooped forlornly towards the floor.
'Hello?' a very familiar voice asked as the door swung slightly open to reveal a very unfamiliar face
'Grandma?' I asked, my voice pitching up an octave or two.
The man before me narrowed his dark eyes, squinting at me for a moment, before picking up the glasses that hung around his neck and popping them on the end of his nose.
My grandmother's glasses?
'Kathy, is that you?' I heard my grandma ask. I leapt up onto my tiptoes to see over the tall man's shoulder for my grandma, before realising it was his lips that had moved.
'No it's your Granddaughter, not daughter. It's Claire. What the fuck is going on here?'
'Watch your language young lady!' she chided, 'You're lucky your mother isn't here to hear you, I used to wash her mouth out with soup if she spoke like that in front of me!'
I spluttered, unable to process the image in front of my very eyes.
My Grandma. A very tall, barely middle aged man.
''Did you bring those flowers for me? Oh honey you're so sweet. How is your husband doing?'
I continued to stare, unable to even correct her again that I was her granddaughter and not her daughter. That was if she was even my grandma. He was my grandma. My brain seemed incapable of forming full thoughts, getting stuck again and again at the fact I couldn't believe my own eyes.
He spun around, stepping towards the table before seemingly catching himself in the mirror. I watched as his skin began to sag, stretching off the sharp cheek bones, spine seemingly shrinking, hair loosing colour and tonality before it was a familiar stark white,
and now my grandma stood in front of me, frowning at herself in the mirror, still holding the bouquet of half broken flowers.
'Grandma?' I asked, completely aghast.
'Just don't tell Steven, this can be our little secret.'
'Who is Steven??' My voice squeaked higher than I thought possible.
Abruptly there was another knock at the door and her form began to change again. Sagging skin become tight and blemish free, hair gaining back the fantastic ginger shade I had only ever seen in old photos, dark eyes gleaming with mischief. She could have been my sister, our faces almost identical. She looked about twenty five.
She dashed to the door, pushing the flowers back into my hand as my mouth opened and closed akin to a confused goldfish.
'Hi there Steven, ready to go?
The newest guest at the door was a dashing young man. Light blonde hair, bright blue eyes and an easy smile.
'Of course I am Gwen, I'll have you back here to see your grandma at about 7pm if that is alright?'
'She's just in the bathroom right now, but my sister can say goodbye to her for me, can't you?'
My grandma looked directly at me and winked, before hooking her arm round Steven's, waving her hand and vanishing out the door.
The door shut with a click of finality, and I was left in an empty room in a nursing home unsure if my mind was even with me.
I walked over to the vase, filling it with water before depositing the flowers in it. I balanced the broken ones against the side of the vase, standing them straight. As good as new.
My grandma turned from a man, into herself, into a hot version of her younger self.
My grandma was a shapeshifter.
For the first time in my life, I was more excited about my genetic inheritance than worried. | 2017-02-18T09:14:12 | 2017-02-18T06:37:32 | 25 | 16 |
[WP] "We have ancient elven magic, and even the dwarves have their ugly mountain forts. What do YOU have, human?!" "Napalm, and high-explosives, mostly..." *grumbling beard in the background* "....our forts are aesthetically pleasing though..." | I pulled back the throttle on all 8 engines. “Time to target?”
“Dwarven castle 20 clicks!” The flight engineer replied in my headset.”
“Ready payload.”
My co-pilot flipped up the switches that would release the bomb. The F-35 escorts fired at the anti-air gun positions on the castle. I kept the massive plane steady.
“Preparing to fly over target.” I spotted the target on the display. The computer flashed green.
“Bombs away.”
“Bombs away.” The co-pilot confirmed. We all felt the massive doors of the B-52 open and let the massive bunker busting bomb out to the stone castle below. I brought the engines up to full power and we banked sharply to the right. I brought the nose up to gain altitude again as the explosion rocked the ground below.
“Flyover to confirm target hit.” I said as we circled the castle. The destruction I could observe was devastating. Wood and stone lay strewn about.
“Incoming! Incoming!” The flight engineer said in a panic.
I swiveled my head. “Where is it?”
“I don’t see it.”
“Incoming heading two-four-zero.”
I made a bank to the left and saw the massive wing first. The escorts opened fire.
“Drop smoke, drop smoke, release counter measures.” I flipped switches over my head in hopes the smoke would distract the dragon so we could escape.
“Evasive maneuvers.”
“Dragon fire!” The flight engineer shouted.
The fire alarm sounded and I tapped the fire suppression switches.”
“Engines 1 and 2 flame out.”
“Shut ‘em down, let’s leave this for the fighters.”
We finally climbed to 38,000 feet and prepared to limp home to the base. | “Who invited the humans to this conflict?!” Grumbled the dwarven general, clad in his armor and wielding a war hammer, his banner swirling in the wind.
“Now from what I understand”, says a human commander, walking up and wiping the dust off his pants. “Looks like you guys are going to partake in what we call a war game. We thought, well, we should join in and make things interesting.” He chuckled to himself as he uncoupled the radio from his belt.
“What could you possibly be capable of, with yer’ soft hands and weak frames? We could decimate with the smallest of our siege engines.” Boasted the little bastard, while the elven honor guard and commander kept a chuckle down. “As much as it pains me to say, I agree with the dwarf’s comment. What could you possibly have to offer?”
“Hmmm........ OH, I know!” He exclaims while putting his radio up to his mouth. “Air support, I request you deploy 3 thermobaric bombs towards that hill, creating the sun.” “UNDERSTOOD” confirms the bomber, as he turns his aircraft towards the target zone.
Both the elf and dwarf watch in a combination of horror and awe as the entire hill is obliterated, sending a small shockwave throughout the small conference.
The commander, satisfied with his show of force, walks away. | 2019-02-03T22:44:43 | 2019-02-03T22:26:15 | 38 | 28 |
[WP] Heaven is segregated by cause of death. All heart attacks together, all shark attacks together, etc. You die and appear in a nearly empty room. A tired old man looks up at you and says "Finally! Someone else! It's been ages!" | "Thank goodness! I was beginning to give up hope." The old man cried.
Timidly, I looked about our modest surroundings. We appeared to be in a small cabin, the interior covered in lacquered wood slats and supports. A small brick fireplace salon the far side of the room, bathing us both in red-orange light. Strangely, there was no heat coming from the fire. Everything felt a comfortable, even temperature.
It was almost cozy, if a little uncanny.
"Where...Where am I, exactly?"
"Heaven, as far as I know." The man said, chuckling to himself as he stared into the fire. He wore some roughspun clothes in the style of a 17th century farmer.
I had imagined there would be clouds.
"If yer wondering why it's just me here, it's because of how we both kicked the bucket." He said brusquely.
Apparently, when you've been dead long enough, you stop feeling shy. Either that, or he had always been cavalier about things like death.
The man turned away from his fireplace and looked at the window. "If you look out there, you'll see a few other pieces of Heaven. Palaces full of people who went out in the usual ways. Heart attacks, murders, lightning strikes, all the normal ways."
I glanced out the window, which surprisingly didn't have any glass, and saw the massive amorphous palaces. They were a mix of different styles of architecture, ranging from simple medieval stonework you'd find on an old castle, something reminiscent of a Gothic cathedral with its towering spires and buttresses, more modern brick and woodwork, and some space-age metal constructs that looked like something a kid would dream up.
The mix made no architectural sense, appearing as though it should collapse at any moment, but by some miracle still stood.
"What the--" I stammered, backing away
"Hideous, I know. But beautiful in an ugly sort of way." The older man said, a smile on his withered face. "People come in all the time and make their own little spot, modeling it after their dream home. I can teach you how to make your own little attachment later. Be nice to have something to compete with them."
I was silent for several moments, trying to figure out all of the information the man was throwing at me.
"You said we are separated because of how we died, right?"
The man nodded.
"I died in a hospital, watching an episode of an old sitcom. Judging by your whole getup, I don't think you died the same."
"No. I was resting right here, talking with my oldest friend in the world when he told me a joke. It was a filthy joke. The sort that made your ears burn and your cheeks flush red. I laughed so hard my heart gave out." He said with a genuine mirth, as though recalling something precious.
I stared at the man, confused. "I died laughing at one of my favorite jokes in the series. I almost forgot that I was in the hospital entirely. Then I flatlined."
The old man nodded "We died laughing, with smiles on our faces and joy in our hearts. And that's a rare thing." | "Huh? What are you talking about?" I squint, my eyes still adjusting to the bright, fluorescent lighting, "What is this place? Shit, am I dead?"
The old man smiles, and nods slowly.
"Oh... I think I should be upset about that, but weirdly it feels... fine? Is that normal? Are--are you like, an angel or something?"
A raspy chuckle escapes the old man's throat before turning into a hacking cough. "Mmmm, sorry, " he says, "Yes, perfectly normal, and no I'm just plain old dead, same as you."
"Ha, no way you're the same as me. I died during a damned ping pong match."
He nods again. "As did I."
"Wait, for real? Dude, that's wild. I figured I'd be the only one."
"Nope, there's been a few of us over the years." He motions behind me, I turn and see a handful of people slumped against the stark-white wall. Some sitting, some standing. The old man continues, "You're the tenth! And now that *you're* here, we can finally requisition some chairs!"
I blink at that. "Uhh, what do you mean 'requisition some chairs'?"
He sits down on the white, tile floor and motions for me to do the same. I sit, and he explains *everything*.
Heaven--if you could call it that--is segregated into distinct spaces depending on how you died. Falling coconut victims in one room, lightning strike victims in another, elevator mishap folks in their own room, etc. The more people who die a certain way, the more people in that room, and the more privileges those people are afforded. Every room starts as a blank canvas. White walls, white floor, white, humming florescent lights. At five, the room gets a Diviner, which allows anyone in the room to see what's happening on Earth and subtly influence the choices of the living. At ten people, everyone gets a place to sit. At fifteen, you get a second room with some cots in it. And so on and so forth.
"Wow," I say, slowly processing this information, "That... that *really* sucks."
The old man chuckles again, "Oh, it's not so bad. And besides," he winks at me, a wide, mischievous grin growing on his face, "I have a plan."
"Oh?"
"Yes, Mitchel. And I think you'll like it."
"Wait, how do you know my name?"
The old man laughs as he stands up, towering over me, "How do you think you got here in the first place?" | 2021-11-24T11:38:59 | 2021-11-24T11:14:31 | 6,329 | 685 |
[WP] When the representatives of humanity attend their first Galactic Council meeting, all goes well. That is, until a member of a psionic race tries to read the human's minds and begins to scream. | The alliance had recently made first contact with a new and emerging species. They were a frail group, no way to read other species brains having to result in either trust or gunboat diplomacy. They were bipedal and had a pretty large planet, neither of those are a good sign.
Soon I would confirm my suspicions. I peered into the simians brain and in it I saw a lot of things. I should start with what I saw first, a quote he remembered while looking at his planet, or it's general direction, "If you stare at the void too long, the void peers back". Before I could finish that thought I was bombarded with feral, wild and scary thoughts.
I saw all of their media showing how they envisioned first contact would go, the horrors they could imagine and would watch for entertainment scarred me.
I saw a mere glimpse at the last 300 years of their history. War, espionage, greed, suffering, death
Death... I saw so much of it, they broke atoms and weaponized uranium before leaving their atmosphere.
Then I saw something as he looked at me, fear. I should note no human emotion comes alone, fear not being the exception. With that fear I felt bravery, hate, hope and so much more. I felt faint, never have I felt so much in my life. In the 5 seconds I peered in his mind I felt inferior and scared.
I dropped to my knees and screamed, for I had found what I am sure was the end of life as we know it. | Accariz, the diplomatic of the Azara species, went down sudenly when he was talking to the human.
His screams fill the circular chamber completly. The noise of the hundreds of conversations stopped sudenly, and the AI responsible for security started to search for threads, but fail.
Accariz was screaming in the ground. The human diplomatic try to help him but he could only speak and cry over and over again.
"THIS MADNESS. HOW?. HOW CAN IT BE?. LAYERS AND LAYERS OF MADNESS"
Accariz looks John,the human, into the eye.
"HOW CAN YOU BE EVEN ALIVE. HOW CAN YOU THINK WITH SO MANY LAYERS OF MADNESS... OF OPPOSITES THOUGHTS!!!!"
&#x200B;
And then, He died. Right there. His brains turn off their heart to make silent. It was the only way.
&#x200B;
Now one ever look into a human mind again. | 2019-09-29T18:12:55 | 2019-09-29T17:13:42 | 207 | 65 |
[WP] Following a chosen deity has real world benefits, much like perks in a videogame. The more obscure gods offer more interesting gifts to those that find them. | Mixcoatl is a cruel God.
When I was a young lad, everyone around me displayed the blessings given to them from their Gods. I can recall from my highschool days a particular incident, a cold spring day as a senior when I was surrounded by Christians and taken downstairs to a room I neither knew the location of nor the directions to. With their truth saying abilities and their tongues of flame, the Christians interrogated me over which God I worshiped, and urged me to join them.
"Why do you not follow Christ?" A scream of pain, followed by desperate gasping.
"Why do you not follow a deity, Godless monkey?" A pause, and then terrified panting.
Each piercing question was accompanied by an aching shock to my chest applied by the palm of one of the young acolytes in training, a holy fire user. I still have the scars on my chest, and would not be alive to tell the tale if I had not been saved by Mixcoatl.
Mixcoatl is a hungry God.
I'm not sure where I snapped. By the time I had given up sanity, the shock had been applied countless times, hundreds of times. You may think me deranged, but I don't deny it. If I hadn't done what I did, I would have never known power. True power.
After all, isn't all we seek just the continuous search for power? No God had satisfied me up to then, as the mainstream religions, such as the Muslims and their rapid reflexes or the Buddhists and their computer like analytical abilities, were weak. I wanted to find a deity that would empower me hundreds of times more, make me like one of the great legends of old that could transform into a thousand animals or fight with the strength of millions of men. No god, until Mixcoatl.
When I snapped, I heard nothing. Nothing but the call of the wind, a lingering sound in a grassy plain, the faint echo of a warcry sung thousands of years ago. It seemed like a motion picture. I kicked the unsuspecting holy fire torturer in the chest, kicked with such incredible force that he landed against the wall, bones broken on contact.
I turned around then. The wind spoke again, then, whispering advice. I ducked without looking, avoiding the flame tonguer's wild swing, and elbowed him straight in the stomach, breaking ribs and drawing blood. Sweet, crimson blood. Then, I jumped on him, and with both of my hands, twisted his neck. His God could not save him.
The last boy, the truthsayer, had started to run by then. He was halfway to the door when I caught up to him. I took a moment to note the failures of his body, his obese frame yet another sign of the failures of his god, before I pulled him into a chokehold. The wind in my head howled, as the life I siphoned from the boy was converted directly into the lifeforce of the wind. And then, as the boy died, the wind died down to the low whishes and swirls it came from.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Red eyes, cruel like the wind of the plains. Mixcoatl is the hunt, and I am his hunter. | "The name of your god... is Bobo?"
I nodded, clicking my finger against the tabletop, waiting on the waitress to bring me my coffee. My contact had asked to meet me hear, after reading the circulating rumors about my Lord and Savior. Of course, he didn't know the half of it. For every truth spilled on forums and posts about Bobo, only a sliver of them carried any weight of truth. One missed sliver just so happened to be His true name.
My contact, a shady German who'd apparently never heard of a hairbrush, leaned forward. "That is not the name of a god. That... that is a clown."
"I would not disgrace the High and Mighty Bobo, Creator of Worlds, by comparing him to any mortal," I warned. The waitress finally arrived, and I sipped from the cup. "I hear His voice, but even I am nothing in the presence of Bobo."
The German shook his head, shocked by disbelief. I couldn't blame him. There was once a time I laughed at the thought of such a name, of such a supposed Higher Being. But I'd seen the error of my ways, and if he'd let me, I would open the German's eyes too.
"I've never heard such utter bullshit." The German rose, brushing bread crumbs off his rain-drenched coat. He fished out a few dollars and threw them on the table. "Tell Bobo He can keep the change."
The German headed toward the door, and I did not stop him. Bobo did not force me to listen to His words. He simply spoke them, showed me His power, and I watched in awe at the work.
Nearby I heard a woman sigh, so I turned in my seat. A couple tables away, an older lady with grey in her hair fiddled around with her phone. I asked her, "Is there something wrong, ma'am?"
She managed a smile as she looked up from what she'd muttered was 'an infernal contraption.' "Oh, it's nothing, dear. I am simply trying to connect to the WiFi. I have no service here, and I'm expecting pictures of my grandson. You see, my daughter just--"
A chime stole her attention away from me and to her phone. A smile formed on her face, and she glanced back my way. "Oh! It's working now. I'm sorry, I would talk at any other--"
"Say no more," I assured her, raising my hand. "It is quite all right. Your daughter and grandchild are far more important than any stranger." I finished my coffee and stood out of my chair. "Peace be with you, good woman."
*And may Bobo watch over you, and all your electronic needs.* | 2016-01-26T20:48:29 | 2016-01-26T20:37:42 | 219 | 78 |
[WP] After a battle with massive casualties the fallen soldiers of the hostile nations march together towards the underworld | It made sense fifteen minutes ago.
There was us, the brave warriors defending our country from the outsiders. Attacking those who meant us harm before they could ever cross the ocean to get to us again. We were Marines, the greatest fighting force since Genghis Khan.
Then there was them. The terrorists. The criminals. The people who hated us just for being free. They had their religion and their rituals and their hate. We had each other and the strength that comes from being *right, damnit!*.
I grew up on a farm in nowhere-you've-ever-heard-of Nebraska, we worked hard, made do, got by and looked out for each other. It's almost a cliché now I've got out into the world, seen more, spent some time in cities... but it's home, and it's all I knew. Dad served. Pop-pop served. His father before him. We serve. There was never any question of me going to college, Dad would have tried, but I wouldn't have asked, he'd have had to mortgage the farm and I couldn't risk that. That's home. That's the centre of our whole family's world. No, for me it's high school, then The Corps, then the farm. I rebelled against it for a short while, although I can't remember why, there's something comforting in following the path laid out by generations of your family before.
These days you know when you enlist that you're going to spend some time in some unpleasant places. America is always at war somewhere, and most of them are nothing like Nebraska. That's okay, we're the best trained, best equipped, best led military in the world. Of course there's risk, but most of us go home just fine
The main reason I don't care about going into harm's way? THEY ATTACKED **US**. I hate these people. What did we ever do to them? What offence did we commit that caused them to kill so many innocent civilians? Nothing. They came for us... so now we come for them, only we won't lose! I don't think I really understood until I got out here just how much I hate them. I know it's not all of them, I know there are good and bad people everywhere, but out here in the mountains they're all the same. They either hate us, or they know where the people who hate us are and don't say anything. Even the Afghan soldiers (if you can even call them that) want to kill us, but they want our guns and our training manuals first. Some of the guys don't see it. Some of them hesitate before they shoot. Some of them argue quietly in their tents that we're doing more harm than good out here. I don't get it, I can't make it fit. These are the people who want nothing more than to see our homes burn, they'd nuke New York in a heartbeat if they could.
I never hesitate.
That was 15 minutes ago.
Now I march toward the underworld alongside Mahmood. He grew up on a farm, went to the only school for 50 miles which was run by the Taliban. Since he could walk he's been taught nothing but their twisted interpretation of the Koran. How could he have done any different? How could he have learned that Americans and Afghanis are the same?
We have families and communities and farms and school, life is sometimes hard and sometimes easier, we have crushes that don't work out, we have love and loss...
I only learned it 15 minutes ago when Mahmood detonated his vest.
I don't hate him now. Now I see it all, now I can see the futility of this endless cycle of violence, now... now I see Mahmood as a brother. Not because we were warriors, but because we were humans.
So we march, we march toward the light in search of answers and understanding. We march togehter, driven not by hate, but by the love we have for our fellow man, and a need to understand why it took death for us to find it.
| It hurts to think. Everything hurts in fact. I made a promise to myself that i wouldn't die in this place, so far from home, but as i sink into the mud made with the blood of my brothers, the idea of joining them below the earth doesn't seem too bad. I've seen to much, done to much. This end for me is just, and i accept it.
My vision seems to dim with every heartbeat, every one coming slower and slower. Death fills my sight, more boys falling around me, some with faces, some with holes like water wells where eyes and cheeks should be. Some with dangling tongues where jaws should be. More lives with memories of Christmas mornings and Sundays spent at the beach, memories of first loves and good days and nights with friends, all burned away by machine gun fire.
For a second everything i see feels magnified, the red, everywhere red, pouring from wounds, covering the ground, the boys clothes, mists of it flying with every hit from an enemy gun. I never really liked red.
Finally i feel the earth accept me home, and my spirit is free to drop the shackles of my mortal body and find my own place to rest. There's a strange sense of vertigo as my perspective seems to double, all at once im both looking down at that person i used to be, and looking up from within where a part of me will always stay, the finite fragment of humanity that cant be carried on where im going.
I am myself as i remember on the first day of enlistment. My dress blues buttoned and not a hair out of place. The world around has grown dark, the sky above a deep purple, and this field that had become our killing theater has returned to how it was before its desecration.
I am not alone it seems, many boys stand around me all dressed as i am, no one speaks. There is something, a hum, after a moments listening i can remember the tune, our marching music. As i watch my brothers form up together in columns and begin to march along the middle of the battle, meeting the ranks of the enemies fallen and moving together in unison. I form in and march with them. Every step is like thunder, and in between each crash that hum vibrating from a thousand different throats.
In the distance i can see our destination, and calm understanding comes over me. A gate, immeasurable in size, stands open, and from here i can see soldiers like ants moving through it into nothingness. The gate seems made of some ancient iron, inlaid with words written in a language long lost to humanity. Massive creatures stand sentinel to either side of the gate, great chimeras of the original beasts that claimed this world as their own. fur and scales and skin cover the behemoths, all deep black, and each in one hand a great blade, and in the other the chains to hold open the gate. The chains themselves glow red as if the metal where fresh forged, runes in white scar each links surface.
What lies within the darkness beyond the gate? What lurks within that blackness where no light exists? Just reward for a life spent in service of an ungrateful country? Punishment for the men we've all slain, and the families we've broken? What of the earth who we've scarred with our progress through lands unknown to us, killing and taking for ourselves the work of others. was i righteous in my life? or was i a curse. Will i pay, or be payed, for a life spent in bloodshed.
I guess i'll know soon enough. | 2014-12-14T13:36:48 | 2014-12-14T10:55:19 | 33 | 10 |
[WP] Every new year the priests sacrifice whoever finds the stone bean in their meal to bring the clan good fortune in the months to come. It's supposed to be random, but you get suspicious when you notice the priests watching you carefully as you sit down to eat. | I noticed the priest stare at me out of the corner of my eye. Every year the priests put a carved stone bean in a persons soup, during the feast celebrating the end of the harvest season.
I know that the bean is supposed to be scooped randomly, but I think it might have been put in my soup, I never was notably popular, and I rarely visited the church, and now their just looking directly at me.
I finish most of my stew before finding the large stone bean. The bean looks small enough to eat, and even if I choke it would just speed up the inevitable. I take a big spoonful, and swallow it.
*cough*
Nope, I’m choking. That didn’t go well. Now someone is preforming the heimlick maneuver.
And a small bean comes out, at a high trajectory. I hope it lands on the floor, or in the bowl of the local drunk, he’s extremely rude and wouldn’t even notice, but nothing is done about it because he’s the priest’s brother.
And speak of the devil, would you look at that! It went into the bowl of the priest, and he was coming to look at my bowl, seeing if I got scared according to onlookers, be both of us know that he knew the bean was supposed to be in my bowl before hand.
He looked at me strangely, almost accusingly, then went back to his soup. And gasped loudly enough for everyone else to hear. Seems I’m safe, and the tradition will likely end here. | The members of the clan stare at their bowls with trepidation. Children clutch their spoons in anticipation with grabby little fists, with no understanding of the significance of the food. Some men stare grimly at their bowls, others shiver like boys.
You shrug, digging hungrily into the meal before you. The stew is rich, hearty, rewarding. It is a greedy pleasure, the bounty of the year’s harvest. Let the priests suspect what they may. What could they possibly know? What could they dare to divulge?
Your bowl empty, a smile crosses your lips. Not this year. Not any year. And as your gaze searches around the room, you linger on Serena, a housewife with her oh-so-delightful figure, staring with horror as her husband is hauled to his feet, the cold grey stone bean staring faceless from the bottom of his bowl, and you remember again this year how good it is to be a priest. | 2021-12-31T19:43:04 | 2021-12-31T18:44:43 | 35 | 11 |
[WP] In the future, genetic engineering has been perfected. Instead of creating horrors or perfect humans, most scientists just want to make Pokémon. | "So....What does it do?"
The suit stood in the middle of my lab, squinting in at my creation. *My* lab. Chrissy and Dave stood just behind me, nervously waiting with armfuls of papers.
"I'm sorry?"
She rolled her eyes, motioning through the glass. The tiny critter within chirped warmly at the motion, leaning foward to press closer.
"What does it *do*. Can we sell its wool? It seems to be...sparking. Can we use it in power generation?"
I opened my mouth, spluttering, but she was already moving on with the wave of a hand.
"Jesus. That's a *no*, then. You've spent exactly *how* much of our company's precious time and money, and all you have to show for it is this *thing* that won't even bring any revenue back?" She glared down at the furry little thing. It gazed lovingly back from behind giant, crystalline eyes like endless black pools.
She swore softly under her breath. I took a step back.
"Damn, that thing's cute. But I can't even market it as a *pet*. Unless someone wants to spend ten million dollars on a- a *whatever* this this is even-"
"It's called a Mareep." Chrissy supplied helpfully. She earned a glare for her contribution. The lab tech wilted under the glare of her manager.
"I don't give a *damn* what it's called, it's called a giant waste of money. Scrap it."
"What?" The words left my mouth before I was even aware of them. "What do you mean?"
"Scrap it. Program *over*. I want everything disposed of by the end of the work week. You guys are sitting on a treasure trove of genetic engineering potential, and you choose to make an electric sheep?" She shook her head disdainfully. "Unbelievable. Get back to work on something-" She turned to leave, but stopped, catching her head.
I froze. Her eyes were wide and unseeing. She...It was like she wasn't even *there* anymore."
"Listen to the sound of my voice."
I spun on my heel. Dave was emerging, from one of the other pens. But my attention was more on what he held in his arms. I swallowed compulsively.
If this went wrong, we were all in *such* trouble.
"You don't want to end this program." Dave continued, his voice insistent.
"I don't want to cancel your program." Our manager echoed, her voice distant and hollow.
If I really squinted, I could almost *see* the waves of energy passing between the two of them.
"In fact, you *love* the Pokemon initiative."
I paused. "Wait, I thought we weren't going to *call* it-"
"Shut up, Jeff." Chrissy shot over at me.
"But, they've got a *copyright*-"
"Shut *up*."
"I love your program." Our manager continued. Dave smiled.
"You want to give us all raises."
"You all deserve a raise. Three percent, all around."
"Five."
"Don't be greedy."
We all jumped, thinking she had woken up, but her eyes were still empty. Chrissy laughed.
"Some habits die hard, I guess."
A few choice requests later, our manager drifted out through the door, and the three of us collapsed into a pile of nerves. Dave still held it, cradled lovingly in his arms.
"Good thinking." I heard myself saying. Chrissy nodded. Dave just smiled.
"I told you guys this little fella would come in handy. We *need* its hypnosis."
Chrissy shook her head.
"I thought it would be *handy*. I just figured it'd be a pain. What if it got loose? We'd never catch it again. Put it away before it gets worked up."
I stood, brushing myself off, and gave the other two a curt nod.
"Well, looks like we bought a little more time. Two down. Let's get the rest done."
They nodded, smiling. Chrissy immediately returned to the glass pen, smiling down at the Mareep within. Dave returned the Abra to its reinforced enclosure, patting its head for a job well done.
And me? I was *busy*. I had hundreds more of these to create, before the company figured out what we were up to and cut us off. I had to have enough to go public with before then.
I got back to *work*.
(/r/Inorai, critiques always welcome) | "Dun dun dun na na na Na!..."
"Hey, man could you pipe down. Curing cancer via custom edited macrophages isn't easy, and that's super annoying" Said Terry.
"Sorry bro, didn't mean to be a bother" said Blake "I'm just really excited about the new project"
Terry heard the excitement in Blake's voice, probably for the first time since he started last year. He saved his progress with a few keystrokes. It must be something cool if Blake was audibly worked up, so he decided to inquire further.
"I haven't heard about anything new coming down the pipes? The anti-malarial lacto-bacilli idea get approved?"
He asked, knowing full well that wasn't right. Nothing got Blake talking quite like correcting people.
"He he he, nope! Even better. The new life-form initiative got the green light! I am going to make the first Pokemon!" Blake practically screamed.
Terry was at a loss for words. He had been suspicious that something was going on. Server time and access to the primary super computing network had been nearly non-existent lately. Not to mention the steady stream of new geneticists and zoologists that had been hired or contracted lately. Everyone had been pretty hush hush though, so there had been no way to know.
"Well I guess that explains a few things" Terry quipped "What a waste of time and resources" he spat dismissively.
"DUDE! How can you not be psyched? Even if you are not a MONs man you should at least think it's cool we are creating complex life finally!" the word vomit came quickly from Blake's mouth. It had not even begun to dry before he kept going. "Aren't you bored playing around with bacteria and viruses? Its not even interesting anymore! We can make practically any microbe do whatever now." He took a deep breath, and kept going. "The last neat thing that happened was when Coleen quit and left the custom *S. chartarum* strain on Jim's office walls."
Terry remembered that fondly. Jim was a crotchety and slightly incompetent department manager that had been with the company nearly from the start. The board wouldn't let him get any higher though, and he took his frustration at that out on his employees. Before Coleen had given her resignation letter she had made a custom (and harmless) strain of black mold. It grew rather quickly and colonies of the stuff always spelled out "Fuck you Jim" in Coleen's perfect cursive scrawl. It took months to remove it.
"That was pretty sweet lol; I just think we can do more good than making a turtle from scratch that can spray water out of it's mouth" Terry replied. "It is neat to make something brand new, sure. But who even benefits? It's not like we could ever release them, it would ruin us and the whole ecosystem!" said Terry.
Blake was quick to reply, clearly disgusted with Terry's opinion. "Well I think it would give life a better chance at long term survival, even if there were to be short term consequences. Climate change got you down? Here I made you some Eevee and Castform; they don't give a shit what conditions are like." but he was not done yet. " Pollution a problem? Grimer, Muk, and Trubbish can clean it up and hold onto it to live" Blake had run out of breath finally so Terry interjected.
"Well that is all well and good but even if we can do it, it'll cost a fortune and take years! Plus what is the ROI on a fire lizard? Most people don't have fireproof houses to keep them in! Besides pokeballs break physics, it'll never be legit! He finished.
"Look dude, I get you aren't on board with the premise. But its happening either way, and I for one am super stoked. I already have a bunch of RNA sequences modeled, I'll have a living breathing Charmander before the end of the quarter I bet. Don't be a party pooper Terry!"
Blake turned back to his computer and nearly merged his face with the screen he got so close. The sound of his typing was so fast and loud it sounded like an old fashioned printing press. Even over the clamoring of Blake's newfound work ethic Terry could hear him mutter.
"I'll show you, and everyone! I'll be the best; like no one ever was...because i'll be the first!" | 2017-09-12T10:40:47 | 2017-09-12T10:25:08 | 506 | 51 |
[WP] The old legends say that only "cold iron" can kill the Fair Folk. Now, with the Goblin King invading the surface world, it's discovered that this was a mistranslation. The original phrase was "Heavy Metal". | Standing on the precipice of extinction , humanity reaches back in time. Back in time to the tales of old. The tales that spoke of the Fair folk.
The fair folk were prophesied to come killing and burning the Earth clean of humanity’s taint. They did as the prophecy foresaw.
Modern weaponry was useless against them. Bullets bounced off of impenetrable skin. Explosions were shrugged off by a horde so large and savage that the Fae outnumbered the humans 15 to 1.
New York fell in a day. London burned for a week before the screams finally stopped. Goblins crawled through the sewers and ogres walked the streets.
Humanity was desperate, and so it turned to the old ways. Early man had carved on ancient stone walls and pots, the beast’s weakness. The engravings spoke of a metal so heavy that it could shatter the earth. Iron was the assumption. That was all our ancestors had access to, the historians claimed. Iron was the weapon that would save humanity.
But it was not to be so. This, plan like many others failed. Iron had the same effect as any other metal; minimal. And so humanity was swept from the world, with the survivors fleeing to the last bastion. The City of Stars. Hollywood.
So there the beasts gathered to finish their deed, only to be met on the battle field by two lone men. These men had long beards and rotund stomachs. They looked nothing like warriors, except for the axes they held in calm hands.
The Fair Folk laughed , and the men smiled right back. For these men had brought with them something the beasts had never seen before. Their axes were connected to long black wires, and microphones stood before them. Truly these were the tools to craft the Heaviest of Metals.
“Are you ready ?” One of the men asked the army amassed against them.
The army of monsters looked around bewildered and confused .
Then one of the beasts spoke up in a high nasally voice, “ For what?”
The man’s grin widened, “For the Greatest Song in the World.”
The beasts met this claim with laughter again.
That is, until the man leaned close to the microphone in front of him and whispered,
“Tribute.” | *Morning, Goblin King's command center, day 3 of the battle.*
---------
"I understand you're here to make a treaty", the King said, in a tone indicating he'd already won.
"I am." I said, flicking away the notifications on my watch.
New Text: Audio systems in place
New Text: I got the bluetooth linked, your piece connected?
Me: Yes
New Text: Good. Let us know.
I left the reply screen open, with "Go" highlighted. I wanted to wait. He had to feel like he had won, before I crushed him.
"Well, now, human" he began.
"I want an unconditional surrender, and all you mortals are to report to us immediately. No weapons will be permitted."
"Ah, I thought you'd say something like that. Well, you see, we're not gonna take that."
I watched a quick flash of worry hit his face.
"I had a few linguist friends look into the ancient texts. One of them had a theory that "Cold Iron" actually meant "Heavy Metal". I was curious, so I tested this out. One of the warriors we took prisoner was shot at with a 9mm Beretta. No result."
The worry left.
"We repeated the test, this time playing Black Sabbath. He died. Right there. Postmortem showed that the music weakened him enough to actually cause latent infection, killing him before we pulled the trigger."
The worry grew to panic.
I looked at my watch.
Me: Go
I rotated the bezel and selected my music player.
"See, I don't want to be a slave. I'm pretty sure none of the people I represent do, either."
"What do you want?" the King asked, angrily.
I tapped play
"I only want one thing."
"I WANNA ROCK!" | 2018-12-26T18:06:08 | 2018-12-26T17:15:22 | 31 | 10 |
[WP] It is modern day America, but everyone speaks in Shakespearean English. You are a gamer raging out during an online multiplayer match. | **The Impulsivity of Sir Leeroy Jenkins, and his Motley Crew of Men**
(the [original](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3POnOSedWWQ), in case you're wondering)
---
My friends and fellow men of arms, these eggs
Have given us due trouble in the past.
But first, let us prepare our stores. Who here
Has need of anything from off this churl
Beside me now, or shouldst our fair campaign
commence aright?
..........................Methinks our bravest Leeroy
Who, at this moment squirms beside us now,
Has need of an accoutrement.
...............................................Nay, nay.
What need of pauldrons has he? Has he not
Committed himself to an holy cause
And calls himself a paladin 'mongst men?
'Tis true, but with that vestment round his neck
He'll suffer less from loss of any health
And reap a new found source with which to cast.
'Zounds men! Then let us meet our heads at once
And with collected thoughts conspire a plan
T'address these awful eggs that plague us now.
First, I, built like a tank, shall charge the host
Of winged ministers that congregate
By their foul brood, and with this trusted arm
Take up as many eggs as I can hold.
Mind you your ears, for know that I will shout
A banshee call t'intimidate the fiends
In hopes that our mean party can deflect
The brunt of all their numbers. But my song
Should not unechoed be. Dear Anthony,
Please counterpoint my melody in full,
For we must scatter them. We are too few...
Yea, Basacorse, we know thou art equipped
With chords to join our oratorio.
Sing thou as well. And for our mages here,
We will employ the power of the gods
And ask that they, with intervening strength,
Protect them in their castings of AE,
For who among us can with too proud heart
Proclaim our numbers are sufficiént—
Though we most noble are. What say you men?
Think'st there no better stratagem for us?
You there, Abdul, with thy computing brain
Tell us our chances.
............................K, gimme a sec.
Without a doubt, it seems that out of 3
Our chances number 1.
.................................What wretched rates!
But still, 'tis better than our usual—
Ho men! "Thumbs up! Let's do this. It is I,
Sir Leeroy Jenkins, most impetuous!"
(Leeroy Jenkins runs in)
Oh wounds! What haste! Did Leeroy just run in?
My lord, 'tis true...
..........................What? What? Then save him men!
The fool! Now more than ever, use the plan
And falter not, lest we give up our flesh
For whelps to sup upon and to digest.
The plan, the plan! My kingdom for a plan!
Where art the gods?! Where art the casting lot?!
My lord, I cannot move.
..................................Oh misery!
Leeroy! Thou rogue! Thou awful, impulsed man!
(the campaign exits, followed by a bear)
.................................. | A pox to this story I tell thee dear reader, a pox to its virtues, a pox to its name! A weary and morose tale, one of dastards and deviants and miscreants of all kinds!
I sat at my home, comfort in the hearth, feeling a delight akin to that of my childhood. The mead I had was cool to the tongue, my stomach and blood woozy on its sustain, when I loaded into a match.
"Rexxar vs Uther!"
"Let the hunt begin!" remarked Rexxar, as savage as any beast.
"I will fight with honor!" replied Uther, as noble as a human as he is. Our hands quickly flooded with cards, both of us dispatching a few like simple curs. I play my first, a simple bat of flame. I wait patiently, fire burning in my soul for what should happen next.
"Well Met!" says Uther, my heart lighting up. Polite, this duel, and I reply in manner.
"Greetings, traveler." Rexxar says, his words echoing mine like beauty. That high brightness in my heart soon dimmed, the moon of sadness eclipsing its once greatness, as Uther buffs all his cards in his hand.
"Damned!" I mutter to myself, as I strike him. Rexxar moves an arrow to the most heinous positions in his bow and; without heed or warning, delivers damage.
"Well Met!" says Uther, his words dipped with wretched smug. He plays another card, this one placing a fiendish goblin into play, aswell as buffing his hand once more!
"Oh I bite my thumb at thee," I say to myself, "you fiend of the night." Without thought, I strike Uther once more; and Rexxar repeats. Uther was beginning to suffer, and so, my delight grew. But I smiled.
"Well Met!" A warrior of holy faith descends onto the field, now stronger then any God it once knew could have imagined, upon a horse righteous of heart, protected by a shield of light itself. It ran the bat threw, without taking a scratch, declaring; "The cavalry is here!". Sweat beaded down my back. With hands of trepidation, I played another card, praying for a boar or a bear to visit me. Shadows clutched me. the wrong companion came to stay as Leokk, guardian of the sky looked at me, its strength not here, and mine, nearly all but gone.
"Well Met!" Clutched in Uther's hands was a sword most divine. It cleaved through Leokk; leaves in winter wind, and healed his wounds at the same time.
"I loathe this game!" harked my voice, "I loathe it and I do not need it!"
"Well fought, I concede," Rexxar spoke.
"Well Met!" | 2017-01-09T16:29:26 | 2017-01-09T16:00:32 | 94 | 42 |
[WP] You're a biologist who made a deal with the devil: eternity in hell after death in return for unlimited funding for your research. The funding was worth it, you discovered immortality, and the devil is not happy about this. | I see that you chose our unlimited funding package for the cost of one soul. Yes, that does include unlimited funding. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to deny your application for this equipment. You only chose the first tier of unlimited funding. We actually have three levels of unlimited funding. The package you chose lets you use two point five million dollars per month, after that we throttle you to twenty five thousand dollars per day. I understand that you're upset. I understand that you are on the cusp of completing your research on immortality. I understand that without this equipment, your research will need to be redone. Fortunately, we do have a solution for you. We can offer you the next tier of unlimited funding for the low cost of only forty souls. | To congratulate you on outsmarting him, the devil gave you a free skiing trip to Mt. Everest where on your second day, an avalanche fell and buried you under 50 feet of snow. Since you are immortal, you are stuck in freezing hell for eternity. Both getting what both asked for. | 2018-08-23T14:29:29 | 2018-08-23T14:10:37 | 38 | 13 |
[WP] An Alien must explain to a Human that Earth is not a paradise for life, it is the most horrific Death World ever discovered. | A paradise for life? Well, I suppose that is technically true. If you tilt your head and squint.
The water is concentrated in a few large oceans which allows for storms of truly prodigious size to form and batter the land. The land masses are so large that the interiors tend to be fairly arid because water just can't make it there from the oceans. The axial tilt and eccentric orbit means that there's incredible variation in climate throughout the year in most places as well as incredible variation in climate by latitude. Abnormally large tectonic plates means volcanic activity tends to be relatively rare, limiting the amount of soil that is refreshed through volcanic mineralization. At the same time it allows for excessively large buildups of tectonic stress resulting in truly impressively earthquakes which, due to the layout of the plates also leads to truly impressive coastal devastation, which can occur on the other side of the planet from the earthquake.
So yes, the truly impressive frequency of geographically created niches does mean that you're never far from a niche boundary which in turn means that evolutionary competitive pressures are quite robust. Your biodiversity is astounding, to say the least.
But that does not mean it's a paradise for life! It means the opposite! It means that wherever you go there's already hyperspecialized organisms ready and willing to *kill you!* You have *trees* that want to kill you! They can't even move or think and yet they can and will kill. And what makes you look at murderous herbivores and think "paradise"?!
If your world is a garden, it's a fallow garden that's been overgrown with weeds and needs to be burned down so you can start over. Oh, wait, you can't do that because half your damn weeds have evolved to take advantage of fires to spread more effectively!
^^^Besides, ^^^we ^^^tried ^^^that ^^^once ^^^and ^^^got ^^^you ^^^out ^^^of ^^^it. | warning: swearing at the end
"Listen, Jerry, I'm telling you this place is horrible mate, you have to believe me!"
"Nah, dude everything is perfect here what are you even talking about, Larry?"
"Can't you taste it? The chemical flavor, the noxious poisons everywhere created by your vicious plants? What about the smell? I'm sorry to tell you this mate, but this planet smells like what our bathrooms smell like. I don't know how you can stand it!"
"Huh? Your bathrooms smell like this? I don't know how I feel about your bowel movements now, but I still love Earth!"
"Dude don't even start. And the animals?! You REALLY think there's things like sharks ANYWHERE else? We actually made those and we're pretty proud, but WHY ARE YOU PEOPLE ALWAYS SWIMMING WITH THEM??? Don't you understand what they were made for?!?"
"Eh they aren't so bad. It's their ocean, we just visit. Gotta respect nature, mate"
"Dude NOTHING THERE IS NATURAL. That's what I'm trying to tell you: we. made. it. all. As a joke. We show our kids holograms of it to make sure they brush their mandibles. You guys are actually the main villains, the 'devils' if you will"
"NAAARRR fuck you Larry, I'm not having that! My species is fucking great mate! Go ahead and tell me ONE BAD THING ABOUT... Oh." | 2022-12-08T04:01:04 | 2022-12-07T21:56:40 | 612 | 74 |
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