prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] An alien killed the boss and replaced him over a week ago. Everyone knows he’s not the boss due to his terrible disguise, but he’s such a better person than the original that everyone just goes along with it. | "Hello there worker Eric. How is your mid-day rotation? ^^^*yerrurk*"
"I'm sorry, what was that, sir"
"Oh...I uh, I said hello Eric, how is your post noon?"
"Fine...."
"Ah yes, the local star is very radiant in this stage of its nuclear life span. I would say that we have at least 1 billion of your.....I mean **our** rotations around our star. ^^^*urrggru*"
"I...guess?"
"You have been exerting much energy for our professional unit....I mean you have been working hard. How about you hibernate for a while."
"Hybernate, sir?"
"Yes, it's nearly the time of the cycl... year where the sun is out less"
"You mean winter.....are you saying I'm a bear?"
"Are you not? My reports claim the dominate species on this planet are bears.......I mean.....uh....uhhhhh"
"I'm human. As you are?"
"Human? ***GUPLAK VERTOKE PYRRJ VEEERI!!!***"
"Sir?"
"I said I am not a parasite like humans!"
"I'm confused, sir. Are you saying you are not human? We are humans."
"You are not human, you are the dominate species and my reports have said that bears are the dominate species of this planet!!!"
"Ummmm. No"
"***GURAKI PLAAAAK!!!!!***"
Tearing off his human suit reviled his [true form](https://i.imgur.com/IZeMtxw.gif) | Hello! I used this prompt as an idea for some writing homework. I had to write a paragraph using sensory details and strong word choice. If it sounds strange, it's probably because of my teacher's strange requirements.
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Everyone working in this beautifully decorated place of work turned to me and grinned as they caught a glimpse of me trotting down the hallway. I am astounded that this bare costume could even be passed off as a disguise. I am quite enjoying this glamorous lifestyle that I have been so graciously granted by replacing that sad old boss. For now, I just have to keep my actions routine so that none of the dull, characterless plebs will suspect that I killed off their barren leader. This strange planet uniquely smells of a bittersweet fruit which is ripe and has been recently picked. The air is yellow, cold and sharp, and terrifically low quality. I don’t know how much longer I can last before I have to reboard the mothership and go back to my home planet Albanel, which is a great deal finer. For the time being, I must stick to my sluggish “job” and act like the “humans.” It hurts just to call my intellectual, scholarly self one of them. | 2019-10-07T16:15:26 | 2019-10-07T14:42:35 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] A man is granted his wish for unlimited knowledge. As he goes about his day he realizes his wish is actually a curse. | The wish was granted. Immediately George felt knowledge opening up in his minds eye, like flowers after a desert rain. His consciousness blossomed from a tiny pinpoint of human senses to encompass every living human and all of their knowledge.
He suddenly understood everything, from math, physics to psychology, neurobiology, everything humanity knows was imparted into his brain.
He implicitly understood.. Everything.
He could feel every cell of his body, understand exactly what it was doing and why, he could see the weather patterns all over the planet and predict climate better than the fastest computer ever built, he felt the pulsing of every heart in the world, smiled every smile, shed every tear.
"I am humanity." he whispered
Suddenly something felt wrong. He realized that the strongest feeling he was getting were not love and connection, but hate, despair, depression, helplessness, rage and pain. Unimaginable pain.
In this world there are people suffering almost more pain than a human can stand, and George felt every bit of it, intimately and closely.
He felt a child being beaten by a man she trusted; a woman whose face dripped off along with acid her jealous husband had thrown in her face; a teenaged soldier whose body was cooking off in a tank, his older brother looking without being able to help, powerless, despairing, hugging a grenade to his chest; an old woman, too weak to get up from her bead, soiled in her own filth for days, maggots writhing in hr flesh, remembering better days, a man she loved, her dead sons, estranged daughter...
Every humans suffering and every memory of such hit him simultaneously, like a flash flood carrying away debris of a mind.
Every victim of a pedophile, rapist, murderer, torturer; every foul deed form two perspectives the victim and the abuser.
He felt the love and loss of everyone who lost a loved one to disease, cancer, old age, car accident, and every death happening form second to second.
He felt the pain of passing and pain of birth, the borne, the bearer...
His mind tore itself apart within a second.
"What do we have here, Angela?"
"He seems to be catatonic, doctor."
"Wipe his drool and put him in the psych ward." | John ran into his apartment, slamming the door behind him and sinking to his knees. His eyes were closed as tight as he could force them and his breathing was ragged. It was only noon, but it felt like the longest day of his life.
He remembered every moment of it in vivid clarity, no matter how much he wished to forget.
He remembered the first man he had walked past with minute discolorations on his hands. He remembered the exact shape of them and the perfect knowledge of how they must have been formed. He could see in his mind's eye the shape his wife's face must look like, down to the smallest detail to leave that precise mark.
He remembered the haunted eyes of the girl he had seen waiting at the bus stop. That was all he needed with his new gift. He saw her past like a high definition movie playing behind his eyes. The way her father came into her room at night to play his games. The way her mother ignored that anything could possibly be wrong, her eyes even emptier.
He remembered the worst of it, coming to his fiance for comfort. He saw the beautiful way she smiled at him, so loving and tender, the reason he had fallen for her the first night they had met. And then he saw her lips. He saw every past kiss she had given him. And he saw those same lips opening up and swallowing his best friend as far as they could go.
John walked across his apartment to his safe, spinning the dial on it. He saw the cold metal of the gun and watched his own death over and over again, knowing with absolute certainty what he was about to do, seeking the only release he knew.
When he pulled the trigger there was no surprise, only inevitability. | 2014-10-24T08:01:42 | 2014-10-24T07:33:35 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] All the "#1 Teacher" mugs change to show each teacher's actual ranking | "Number 27!" The teacher screeched with glee inside the empty classroom. "I knew all of the lenient grading and makeup assignments would pay off in the end!"
Press quickly came to the teacher throughout the school year. He met the president and was amongst the people deemed 'the future of america'. He patented his very own #27 tie and his follower count jumped to the thousands. He was known as Mr. 27 throughout the community. He was the top ranked in his state. So it added kindle to his fire.
He establish a podcast show 'Class is heaven with #27' and took a part time gig speaking at different universities.
The fame, money, sex, and drugs flooded Mr. 27. This sixth grade math teacher was unstoppable.
Until the quarter ended and the mugs were updated once more.
His mug read #32,754
Turns out if you spend most of your time partying and showing off your accomplishment, you forget why you had it and what got you there in the first place.
His podcast was canceled shortly after. | He sat in a dark room, furnished only with a mattress in one corner, a smudged window with tattered (window cover thing), and a simple wooden chair and table in the centre. The air was damp and unventilated, thick with cigarette smoke. On the table was a cigarette bowl, a half-finished bottle of cheap whiskey, an old .38 revolver, and a mug that spells out "#1779917 Teacher". The click of the revolver cocking broke the eerie silence of the room. | 2018-06-19T03:38:04 | 2018-06-19T00:37:49 | 26 | 19 |
[WP] Life has definitely slowed down since retiring at 70 as a super hero. To your surprise, your old evil arch nemesis appears at you door, claiming the doctors said he doesn’t have much time left. You two decide to spend a day golfing to reminisce about your glory days one last time | “Well, Bob, you win some, you lose some,” the Chaotic Kinetic chuckled as his putter tapped the ball off the tee, sending it on a casual, consistent stroll through the fairway.
“That’s not my name. And considering the ‘some’ you lose are human lives, then you’ll have to forgive my less-than-Lasseiz-Faire demeanor.” The man whose trophy case said “Advent: The Earth’s Hero, The Dawnbringer, The Herald of the Age of Peace” (and whose driver’s license said something he no longer remembered) walked with his old acquaintance as the golf ball rolled beside them.
“Retirement hasn’t cracked the stick up your ass, I see.”
“Why did you ask me here?”
The Chaotic Kinetic paused for a moment and looked towards the sky, as if he were searching for the ashcloud with the most perfect shape.
“Remember when Studlust held that bank hostage in ‘68?”
“I do.”
“He didn’t even pull a gun. He just whispered in the hostages’ ears and they did whatever he said. No blood. No death. Just automatic compliance.”
“He was a tough one, to be sure, but we got him in the end.”
“The spell was broken twenty minutes later. Not a soul was hurt. If he’d been successful, the only victims would have been the banks. And you’re still gonna condemn him, huh?”
The Earth’s Hero Advent limped forward. “A criminal who calls himself Studlust consistently dresses without a shirt and has the power to get anyone to do anything he wants. Do you really think his worst crime was made in daylight?”
Chaotic sighed and followed.
“Served five years in prison fifty years ago and you’re still too high-strung to forgive him.”
“Forgiveness? What does he need my forgiveness for? He married and raised a family all the same.”
The ball bumped the hill and rolled itself onto the green as the Adamant Archgods, Destined to Duel Forever, hobbled behind.
“We were young, Bob. We were naive. Who wasn’t an idiot in their twenties?”
“Idiots hurt *themselves*, maybe get in barfights. Idiots don’t tear a city apart piece by piece and torrent the remnants into the Oval Office. Idiots don’t coat the atmosphere in ash as a bargaining chip.”
“You think they wouldn’t if they could?”
The ball circled around the hole- again and again, again and again- its quiet momentum oblivious to friction-
“What do you expect from this meeting?”
“Whatever you’ll give me.”
“Peace? You? Ironic.”
“We were young and wild. At least we fought for something.”
And before time could recognize the action, Advent was holding the putter to his old foe’s neck.
“Fought for something? *Fought for something?* What did you fight for? Divine purity! A cleansing of the weak! Or was that what you just told yourself? Of course it was. You didn’t care about purifying and purging humanity, you just wanted a half-baked reason to justify a power trip. And me? I didn’t save people. I didn’t have time. I was so busy *stopping you.* And still there were casualties! Every time we fought and you threw me into a building, there were casualties. Every time. We fought for *nothing*, Chaotic. *Nothing*.”
A breeze. A sigh. Circling and circling.
“So that’s it.”
“That’s it.”
“After all these years. After two decades of victimless retirement.”
“Do you really consider the absence of crime atonement?”
“It was worth a shot.”
And the greatest hero of the greatest generation stopped the ball under his foot.
“People died, Chaotic.”
“So will we, Advent. So will we.”
And for the first time, the Chaotic Kinetic shook for reasons unrelated to his godlike power, and before his knees could hit the ground, Advent had disappeared into the ash-laden sky. | Jerry waddled to the common room of the retirement home, the black coffee in his gentle grasp spilling every step or so. While his room was just next door, his walks to the television seemed to become longer (and the amount of unspilled coffee smaller). He often found himself reminiscing, when he could remember, his days as a community super hero; back when his strength was impecable. He had kept his identity a secret all his life, so when he was admitted to the home and diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, the staff mistook his odd confessions for extreme confusion, with reason. He often woke up in the middle of the night in full-fledged panic, yelling to the nurses about “saving the town” and whatnot.
Jerry sometimes wasn’t sure if he actually was a superhero, or whether it was his own mind playing tricks on him.
Jerry’s walk to his favorite chair— in the middle of the common room, not too close to the front so that it doesn’t hurt his eyes yet close enough that he can see everything at least somewhat clearly, and propped off the floor just enough for him to look over Smelly Gary’s big head in front of him— seemed to last longer this morning. It was especially long when he finally reached his destination only to find a frail, liver-spotted German man in it. He seemed to stare at nothing in particular, his eyes lurking past the television. Perhaps out the window, but not much to look at except the rolling hills of the golf course.
Jerry was unsure of what to do. This stranger— now that he thought of it, Jerry hadn’t ever run into this man in such a small community of old folk— was sitting in HIS chair. It didn’t have Jerry’s name on it, but Jerry could usually clearly point out the outline of his rear end in the crusty cushion after his favorite show ended and he had been sitting there a while.
Jerry released a sudden cough, careful to not lead himself into a coughing fit, catching the man’s attention. For a moment, while Jerry stared into the man’s eyes, he felt as if he knew him. The man’s eyes gleamed, not quite with joy, but with remembrance. “If it isn’t my good friend, gosh, what was your name? Henry?” Jerry squinted. Henry, did he look like a Henry? God, no. What a silly old man. Jerry turned to walk back to his room, unconcerned with his chair, before having a flashback. Hefty Henry. His superhero name had been HeftyHen (not his idea, his stupid manager didn’t realize the consequences that come with a farm animal in your name), but the more popular he became, the more his name became Henry (an upgrade in his opinion). Jerry turned around again, looking into the eyes of the man, which hadn’t moved from their position in his direction. “Nightstorm?” Jerry questioned, though he wasn’t sure if it was memory or imagination he went off of. He remembered very little of the villain; only that his ‘crimes’ were merely petty, and that’s he liked to pick fun with the hero. The German man’s eyes lit up again, as the old man nodded. “It’s funny, really, how old age catches up with us, despite our powers”, the German man giggled, his accent less thick than Jerry had remembered. Jerry smiled with him, sitting down beside him. It was difficult growing up with no one knowing your name, with not a friend nor loved one. But in that moment, though short and expected to be forgotten, Jerry enjoyed sharing what he remembered of his life with his old friend. | 2019-10-22T14:42:29 | 2019-10-22T14:27:24 | 14 | 10 |
[WP]: A man who constantly laments about being 'born in the wrong century' gets transported to an era he has glorified for so long. It's absolutely nothing like he imagined it. | "How I wish I was born in medieval times!" Young Lillian did decry
"I'd be a princess, and laugh at the jesters! And watch the knights' banners fly,"
"As they jousted for me, and a feast we would eat, while high in my castle I'd sit"
She sighed and she wept, until finally she slept, dreaming of such a place she would fit.
Awake with a start, suddenly in a cart, no idea where she could be or when!
She had a sweet hunch as she looked 'round a bunch, took a deep breath and counted to ten.
"Oh dear" and "oh me" and "oh can it be" as the city walls came within view
It was all she had dreamed, and she nearly screamed, her medieval life starting anew!
Such a quaint little village! The women in windows, all calling back to and fro,
Lillian wandered by, waved hello and called hi! they waved back to her down below
She walked down the street with a pep in her step, full of excitement, not dread!
And promptly decided she'd made the wrong choice, as a full chamberpot rained down on her head. | The old west.
Women wont have sex unless you marry them, so you get married. No birth control so you have at least one pregnancy every two years. Half your kids die from minor illnesses before reaching adulthood.
Finally, your wife dies during childbirth, and no woman wants to marry you. No air conditioning, no TV, no radio, no internet, no cars...you have a horse that cost a years salary...until it breaks a leg stepping into a gopher hole.
You can defend yourself with a gun, but every asshole also has a gun. Every other person has either cholera, tuberculosis, smallpox, malaria, or rampant VD... | 2020-04-12T15:07:59 | 2020-04-12T14:15:53 | 55 | 13 |
[WP] A Djinn travels the world, granting people a single wish. However he never gives the person their wish, instead you receive the benefit of the last persons wish, passing your wish forward to the next person he meets. | Rent. Everyone has to pay it, and each in our own way. I guess I shouldn't be complaining, because my place is bitchin'.
Everyone thinks that djinn hate staying inside their lamps. They think that we're confined, trapped inside, and depend upon some hapless human to ring our doorbell ad nauseam like a Johovah's Witness on crack so we can take a peak outside.
Well, everyone's wrong. We're home bodies. Granting wishes is just the way we pay rent.
Once a month, some human finds my lamp at a flea-market, poking out of the beach sand, or wherever else my landlord decides a djinn's influence is needed. Then, for the next hour or so, I listen to some mortal yap about whether he would like money, a wife, or any other number of wishes until I can return home to my estate.
I've got more servants than the current employee base of Walmart. The standard deviation of grass length on my lawn can only be written using negative exponents, and I have more acres that a southern plantation owner. I've had a 90" plasma flatscreen since before the Crusades, though I do admit there was a lot less to watch back then than there is now. If there's one thing you mortals get right, it's quality television. Football beats the hell out of watching two knights poke each other with sticks on horseback.
But anyways, everything was going as it has for millennia. I pay my rent, the humans leave happy and fill out a satisfaction survey, and sometimes I get a bonus at the end of the year. It was dandy, until last year.
Don't get me wrong. I like your average guy, the one that's not afraid to admit he's selfish at heart. The one that's easy to please- I'll satisfy his lust, or greed, or revenge with a wish, and we'll both be on our way. But I *hate* a pretentious goody-goody who feels the need to change the world for *his* idea of a better place.
When my doorbell rang that morning, I was in my bath towel, and used a considerable amount more mist than usual to cover my more private areas.
"Djinn Dray, of the 19th order spirit, powerful beyond wishes, granter of dreams," I said, launching into my normal entry talk. Inspiring awe is the best way to keep my meetings with mortals short.
And boy, oh boy, was the boy awestruck.
His mouth fell open as he watched me, his blue eyes still innocent with youth (a well placed wish would fix that), and the ends of his shirt blowing in the wind I produced.
"Well golly," The boy said, shifting his feet, "I ain't never seen anything like this before."
"Golly," I replied, "You ain't never going to see anything like this again either. You have one wish- allow me to grant it. Do you want riches? Love perhaps? A double life span? Wishes concerning rapping abilities are also at a current high ever since I frequented Detroit back in '96."
"Well I don't know, mister. I think I'm pretty happy the way I am. Did any of those wishes make the person more happy?"
I paused. This was tricky. By all standards of living, yes, the person was more happy. But such wishes can change a person, and often they became more miserable than before.
"Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Often a person doesn't know what they want." I answered, carefully.
"Well then. Jeez, I don't know if I could ever choose what I would want. Maybe everyone would be happier if somebody else chose for them. Yes, that's my wish. I wish that everyone receives the wish that the person before them asked for!"
I opened my mouth to object, but the lamp had already begun to withdraw my spirit. The boy had made his wish, and my power had granted it.
And ever since, my satisfaction surveys have fallen through the roof. I'll be lucky if I get another bonus in the next ten years.
The next person to rub my lamp wished for a greater love than he had ever had before.
The gentlemen after that was poor, and asked for money so he and his wife could never work another day in their lives. He never got his money, and instead lost his wife when she caught him cheating.
The next man was rich, and asked for a personality so that he could make friends that did not care about his material wealth. Instead, his bank account doubled.
Each month seemed to get worse. It's an utter disgrace, just because of one boy's ill thought out wish.
I'll be downsizing my estate soon, and there will be a garage sale this Saturday.
********
By Leo
| Chad was having a crap day. It wasn't one of those bottom ten worst days of your life crap days, but it was crappy nonetheless. He woke as usual and got ready just a little behind schedule. When he went to have breakfast the milk was bad, and he just skipped it.
He had stopped at the coffee shop next door to the office, but there was a long line and he was already late, so no morning caffeine kickstart either. Just crappy.
He was sitting in his cubicle trying to figure out why his boss was over budget. It wasn't that his boss was stupid or anything, but he disliked accounting and always dumped budget chores on Chad. He looked at the clock, and it was only a little after ten. Crap, long morning already and his stomach was gurgling from lack of stimulation.
Picking up the phone, he dialed and a cheerful female voice answered "Emily Stoller, how can I help you?" Emily was an expense analyst at the corporate center. Chad had actually never met her, but she was really nice and usually had good ideas on how to explain away his boss's budget overages.
"Hey Emily, it's Chad. How are you?" He needed to get the morning over with and there was no better way to kill time than to talk to a pretty girl. At least she sounded pretty.
"Hi Chad! I was going to call you later today. I just got a job with Eastern Financial, and Friday will be my last day. I'm calling all my favorite customers today to tell them the news. From now on you'll need to call Drake Morgan with expense issues."
Shit, Emily was leaving. One of the bright spots in his life was leaving. Shit. And Drake Morgan the zombie was taking her place. Perfect. "Wow Emily, that sounds like a really good thing for you. Good luck in your new job. Stay in touch."
"I will Chad. Well, I gotta go. I've got a lot to do before I turn everything over to Drake. It's been really fun working with you." And she hung up.
Chad sighed and about leapt out of his skin as he turned in his chair. There was a short Middle Eastern looking man sitting in his guest chair.
"Who the-. I mean, can I help you?" Chad stammered out to cover his surprise. He'd never seen the man before and the guy had snuck into his cube right past him.
"Hi Chad. I'm a busy entity, so I will cut to the chase. I will grant you one wish. There is a catch though. Your wish will be given to the next person I visit and you will be given the wish of the last person I spoke to. Sound fun?" The little man smiled at him like this was something normal.
"Huh?"
"A wish. You know. Make a wish and I make it come true. Only for someone else. You get the last guy's wish."
"What was the last guy's wish?" Chad needed to stall and think here.
"He wished for a lifetime supply of bacon in a wagon pulled by a black lab puppy. I'm not sure the puppy will technically be able to pull that much bacon, but I think I can accomodate that. Would you like it here or should I have Tucker meet you in the parking lot by your car?"
"Shit, what will I do with a lifetime supply of bacon? And a puppy?"
"Not my concern. Do what you wish. So, I've got to keep moving. What is your wish, Chad?"
Chad cursed his luck that the last guy hadn't wished for $1 million or something sensible. Fuck that guy. Now Chad had the chance to make someone suffer for the day he'd had.
"Chad?" The little man sounded a little peeved as he looked insistently at Chad.
"Oh, fine. I wish for a big, huge... Nah... OK, make it $2 million. Cash in a duffle bag. $20's and $100's, easy to carry. Maybe some wheels on that duffle bag."
"It is done." And suddenly the man was gone. Just gone.
Chad heard a man over by the window shout. "What the fuck?!?" He went over to see the huge wagon behind his car filled with what he assumed were cases of bacon, and there was the cutest black lab puppy harnessed to the front of the wagon totally unable to move.
Chad smiled slightly to himself and started to walk out to the parking lot.
Edit: spelling | 2015-06-17T11:48:00 | 2015-06-17T10:52:01 | 46 | 22 |
[WP]People have powers based on their strongest emotion, and become stronger as they embrace it. Healers might draw power from love or empathy, warriors; anger or self preservation, etc. You draw power from being incredibly sassy.
Or other emotions, like being passive aggressive, or overly dramatic. | I knocked at the door.
"Who's there?"
"Me."
There was a pause. I thought I heard a muffled sigh from the other side. "Come in."
I opened the door and strode in.
Damien T. Erikson, Director of the Heroes' Association, sat at a mahogany table in an elegant room. He was Exhibit A in the museum of Uptight Old Men, always seen with a frown on his face and a pineapple up his arse.
"Please take a seat."
I grinned at him. "Sure," I said. "Take it where?"
His expression didn't change. "I mean, please sit."
I gave a melodramatic sigh, pulled up one of the swivel chairs populating the office and plonked myself into it.
"You know why I've called you in here. I have received complaints-"
"Wait, let me get this straight. You say you know I know why you called me in. Then you go ahead and say it all over again anyway? Is there a word count you're trying to fill?"
The director narrowed his eyes. "I was trying to lay out some common ground."
"Ohhh, I see. Well, it doesn't matter to me. It's your time you're wasting. I'm still getting paid." I glanced at my watch. "I *am* getting paid, right?"
"...Yes. So, what do you have to say to the accusations?"
"Oh those. Sorry, no idea what they're about."
The director glared at me. "*As I was just saying*, I received complaints from Berserker that you have been engaging in conduct prejudicial to the unity of the Heroes' Association. Can you explain yourself?"
"Yes."
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
"I mean, please explain yourself."
"Eh, there was this one time I was talking to Beserker, and all of a sudden he just cracks and starts smashing things up. Nothing I could have done, honest."
"And what do you think triggered it?"
"Probably the crack."
"What?"
"Just kidding. Well, I might have said something about his flower arrangements. Once. Twice. A minute. All summer."
The director glared at me. "I'm starting to think-"
"That's a rare sight."
"-that you don't quite see the seriousness of this issue."
"And you're not seeing how ridiculous your outfit looks. Seriously, a yellow and black striped tie? Are you a bumblebee?"
The director sighed. "I appreciate the value you bring to the team. The debilitating headaches you inflict on enemies have saved us in many fights. I'll give you one more chance. Don't antagonise your teammates again."
I raised my palms to the sky and stood up. "The defendant is found not guilty. Court adjourned." I turned to leave.
The director rested his head in his hands. "That's not what I said."
I shrugged. "Smell ya later, gramps!"
With that, I left, taking my seat with me.
---
A/N: I don't usually write humour-related stories, so if you see anything that can be improved, please comment! Thanks. You can also visit https://ardetor.wordpress.com/fiction/ to read other stories I've written, if that's something you like to do.
| The massive alien spacecraft hovered just off the United States eastern seaboard. All attempts to make contact with the spacecraft as it was first detected by the Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter, then by various telescopes and satellites around Earth itself, had been met with silence as it settled into a hover, underside still glowing from its trip through the atmosphere. Several things soon became apparent. First, it had disabled the Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter soon after it sent its final data to Earth, then it began to disable many of Earth's space-based telescopes and satellites as it passed the moon's orbit. The final act which convinced most of humanity that this was not a peaceful first contact was when a particle beam shot out of the spacecraft and enveloped the International Space Station, instantly blinking it--and the half-dozen astronauts and numerous experiments on board--out of existence.
The various media conglomerates all depicted numerous military aircraft being launched from airbases and sea-based launch platforms and streaming towards the alien spacecraft before they, too, simply ceased to exist. The aircraft had simply disappeared into thin air, and all radio contact was lost, whenever they breached some invisible barrier erected about fifty miles around the spacecraft. And then, anyone listening to a radio or watching television or looking at a cell phone was forced to listen to the alien's first message. The voice sounded computer-generated.
"To Humanity: Your planet and star system are now the property of the Empire. Your technology, resources, and life will be consumed. Do not resist. We come in peace."
Almost immediately, someone responded. Whoever it was was obviously not military, or in any other official capacity. "Wait, what? You've destroyed several of our satellites and airplanes and stuff, and have killed several thousand people already. How do you come in peace when you've declared war on us?"
The aliens' reply was terse, and inflected with anger--anger that someone would dare call them out on their contradiction. "Your technology is inferior. This is not warfare. We come in peace."
The human voice then chuckled before saying, "Then you'll go in *pieces*."
That was the last transmission between the aliens and the lone human that had challenged them. The radios and televisions and other human devices all then switched back to their normal programming. Since most of humanity had been listening to or watching some news channel, most of humanity saw and heard the commentary about the giant microphone as it slammed into the top of the alien spacecraft from above, forcing its way through the saucer's center and forcing the rest of the spacecraft beneath the ocean. The subsequent underwater explosion somehow cancelled out most of the tsunami generated by the spacecraft's initial impact with the water's surface. The microphone's grip could then be seen, stuck above the waves for a few moments before it disappeared. | 2017-01-19T05:51:21 | 2017-01-19T05:25:39 | 628 | 332 |
[WP] You accidentally discover the sentence of death (a sentence that kills anyone who hears it except the speaker) when you say it over national television. | "The words. The words I mean -- *woops*. What else is there to say?"
The interviewer squirmed in his chair, as if he were nervous. "**Well, why did you say them**?"
Six. Seven cameras pointed in my direction. Great. Who in their right mind approved this? I kill near two million people saying some mumbojumbo on national television and instead of slapping me with a prison sentence they ask me to do interviews. On national television. That's like giving a convicted jihadist a bomb and telling him to go pick you up some groceries at the Wal Mart.
I looked at my interviewer dumbfounded for a moment. Then two. Then, "Jesus Christ, how was I supposed to know that they were all going to die? I still remember being there, sure -- yes, in the newsroom -- reading that stupid prompter. Something happened. I happened. The machine glitched. I don't know. Hard to remember." My head shook in disbelief. I hated these interviews. But my lawyer said they'd do a lot to prove my innocence. Make the people believe it was a total accident. So I rolled with it. Sure, whatever.
I cleared my throat and continued. "But I remember there was something on the prompter I couldn't quite read. So I just winged it. Made a half assed attempt. Did what any anchor who's had a few years in the business would have done."
"**Which is?**" said the interviewer, casually taking a sip from his Good Morning New York! coffee mug.
"Ever hear the saying "the show must go on"? It gets to a point where you can't sweat the small stuff. I mean, everybody went quiet right after I said the words and I thought -- great, I've crossed that line. I've winged it a little *too* far and said something totally embarrassing. The station'll skin me. Whatever. I just wanted to get off air and head home to a glass of whisky." I swallowed. This part was always the hardest to tell.
"Then I heard the thuds."
"**Thuds?**"
"Sure. Thuds. Like the sound of bodies hitting the floor? They were dropping all around me. I was in a daze. Then Emee hit the table beside me and -- and me? Don't look at me like that. What the hell was I supposed to do? I'm not a paramedic -- yes, I did a first aid course, but it's not like you remember that shit when you're in a situation that surreal. I thought I was next for gods sakes."
I took a deep breath and started patting down my jacket. The way this interview was heading I'd need every smoke left in my pack.
The interviewer casually consulted the prompter before regurgitating another question I'd been asked a million times. **"Do you have any idea why that sentence - the one that uh-"**
"Killed those people?" I offered.
**"Precisely. Why it hasn't again succeeded in causing such widespread, horrific, and spontaneous death?"**
*Are you fucking kidding me*, I think. *Is this guy for real?*
"No idea. Do I look like a scientist to you? Try asking the guys at CERN or something. I was a weatherman. Now I'm a fucking murderer. I don't even wanna know why somebody felt the need to go ahead and try it out again. I don't know how it worked, or why it worked. All I know is it needs to be left alone."
I found my pack in my left chest pocket and weaseled my hand inside to pull them out.
The interviewer made a loud show of clearing his throat. "**So no idea as to what's behind any of this, then**?" said the interviewer, casting a threatening glance at my cigarettes.
*Like no shit, I realize I can't light one up in a studio. Only spent eight years working in one.*
I ran a hand through my hair. I hated interviews. Interviews like this, where I got to spend the better part of a half hour reliving my mass execution of over a million people. What a great way to wind down on a Friday. "Look, is this thing almost over wi--"
^^^Thud.
^Thud.
**Thud.**
Bodies started dropping everywhere around me again. In the distance all I could hear was the sound of corpses meeting the linoleum. In front of me my interviewer's form went limp and smashed onto the table between us, slack jawed. All life gone from his eyes. Not that there was much there to begin with.
I took a smoke out of the pack and lit it -- it might've been satisfying, even, if I wasn't having a mental breakdown right then.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught somebody on the street looking in at me. She was in rags, had dirt covering the majority of her face and looked like she got maybe three square meals a week. She was holding up a cardboard sign with a single word written in thick marker. I squinted to read it.
"*Horseman*".
Huh. I took a drag.
Wonder what that's supposed to mean? | I wasn't sure exactly what had happened- well, not at first. When the words came tumbling out of my mouth, I figured it was just the typical stuff you'd expect from a guy who'd had one too many tequila shots on his graduation party. I remember I was prancing around the house, one arm locked around the waist of my then-girlfriend while the other was busy leaving a trail of angry looks and curses as the drink it held flopped around, spilling its contents everywhere. There had been cameras that caught everything that happened, of course - saved for posterity on YouTube, LiveLeak, and all kinds of other social media hotspots.
I'd been easily exonerated since the jury had agreed with my family's lawyer that the evidence was purely circumstantial anyway. But after having watched the tape a thousand times, and at least as half as many in the courtroom, I knew the truth. I knew what happened. And I knew I was fully responsible for it.Especially when everyone in the courtroom met untimely demises of their own over the next week.
My alibi was air-tight- I was halfway across town drowning my sorrows at a bar when the first call came in. The judge for my case had been on his way to visit a relative when his car had lost control, sending him (rather, his corpse) straight into the media for the next 72 hours. And the cycle had just begun as jurors, family members, friends, anyone that had come to my trial began dropping like flies, but never to the same thing. One cousin died when she was scalped by a blender whose top had fallen off in the midst of a smoothie binge. My best friend Jake was killed when his bicycle gears seized, sending him spilling into the path of a semi. My mother choked to death on a baby carrot at a wedding rehearsal; my father died when he broke his spine trying to give her the Heimlich maneuver after.
But it didn't stop there. With every 'Like' on Facebook, with every curious click that came to pass, another person dropped dead in the most unlikely of scenarios. The counters skyrocketed as millions of people flocked to see the most dangerous video ever created. I wanted to just hide myself in a corner, wait for it all to end. People pounded down my door, demanded that I show myself to face their form of vigilante justice for the unspoken horrors I'd visited upon their lives.
It was all my fault, after all. And once the genie was out of the bottle, there was no stopping it. Wave after wave of death thinned the herd every week. A couple of times the guilt had finally pushed me over the edge, but every time I'd tried to kill myself, something always got in the way. The rope snapped when I jumped from the chair, the vehicle sputtered and died as it ran in the closed garage, my wrist clotted after the deepest of cuts. I grew in despair, desperate to find my release.
The video has taken over the world, invaded every facet of everyone's lives. There are the Innocent, a loosely-organized group of people who strive to scrub the Internet clean of its infection, only to have it spread again just days later. Another cult popped into existence, calling themselves Judgement. They use the video as a threat, a way to control those around them by threatening to play it. You see, they learned that it wasn't the video, but the audio itself that triggered the chain reaction. That alone was enough to break the world.
I remember glancing at a newspaper as it blew past, catching the headline for just long enough to realize how far this had gone. Some idiot senator had decided that he would be a martyer, sneaking a handheld mp3 player and speaker into a closed UN Security Council session. The result mass deaths of all the leaders of the largest nations of the world simultaneously triggered a panic unlike any other. Countries broke apart, alliances were made and lost, and everything had become uncertain. Wars raged, even more people died, and everything organized eventually fell into ruin until only the stragglers, like myself, are left.
That is the world I leave to you - a world where a simple phrase uttered can change everything. To you, my son, I trust these words, the most forbidden of those ever uttered in the course of humanity. I give you these, so that you may one day right what went wrong so long ago. That you may use them wisely to herd what little remains of the humanity I knew, and build them into the great civilization once again.
Edit: I had no idea where I was going with this, so it kind of got rushed at the end badly. Sorry!
| 2015-05-17T17:53:39 | 2015-05-17T15:05:44 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] Whenever royalty or someone important becomes paranoid about potential assassins, you get hired, your job is to "fail" an assassination to make them feel like they can relax again. | The walkie talkie was burning a hole through my pocket. It had been too long since the last check-in, and that meant we were running behind. We absolutely couldn't be running behind. I absentmindedly chewed my lip and paced for another minute before I finally lost it. I whipped out the walkie talkie and pretty much shouted, "Status update!"
There was a moment of static and then a rough voice came through, "The final speaker is almost installed. IT is on the scene. Over."
"Shooter is prepped and ready. Over."
"Route is clear. Convoy is on schedule. Over."
I took a deep breath to calm my racing heart before responding. "Roger that everyone. Next time keep me up to date before I have a heart attack. Over and out."
With a sigh of relief, I returned the walkie talkie to my pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. It was starting to come apart at the edge of the crease because I'd looked at it so many times. It was the Prince's schedule for the day, complete with the exact route he would be taking to get to his cousin's Christening.
My team would be stationed at perfect intervals around Center Square, with the lovely Selene perched in an upper story window, ready to fire the all important shot.
I was situated at home base: the backroom of a little cafe on the far edge of the square. This was Tech Central, and where everyone would meet afterward to celebrate a job well done. Just then a young bespectacled man waltzed in, computer in hand.
"How's everything looking, Jes?" I asked.
He pushed his glasses up on his face and looked at me with excited eyes. "We just completed the sound check. Everything is working perfectly."
Praise be. If this job actually went well, we could be on our way to a bright future. I glanced down at my watch and my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. It was 8 a.m. already!
"The cameras! Pull up the cameras!" I demanded.
Jes hurried to comply, and quickly turned his computer around so I could see. The convoy that carried the prince was right on schedule. It was a block away from Center Square. It was show time.
"Convoy inbound, everybody ready?" I asked.
A chorus of 'yes, sirs' came from the walkie talkie, and for the first time today I actually smiled. This was going to work. I watched the screen without so much as a blink as the car rolled steadily closer to the square. When the front wheels rolled onto the cobblestones of the square, it was time to go.
"On my signal..." I said, waiting for the car to reach the marked spot of the road.
"3, 2, 1. Now!"
Simultaneously, Jes hit a button on his computer and Selene took her shot. The BB hit the windshield hard enough to crack it, and the pre-recorded gunshot echoed through the speakers around the square.
The crowd went wild and the Prince's security force jumped into action. They cleared the way for the car to speed through the square, and as they went the sound of more gunshots accompanied them. I watched with glee as the car sped away and disappeared around a corner.
It was all over in a matter of seconds, but boy had it been executed perfectly. Jes had done an admirable job of timing the sound effects, and Selene's shot had been spot on. I emerged from the back room into the cafe, where innocent bystanders were still cowering in fear and confusion.
The team came in one-by-one and joined me at the booth in the corner. I was about to give my customary well-done speech when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and my smile got even bigger when I saw who it was from.
*Royal Advisor Cassian: Prince Paranoid nearly peed himself. Job well done. Your payment will be transferred in the next three business days.*
A job well done indeed.
I turned back to my team and with a satisfied smile asked, "Who's ready for cake?" | Marcu kicked in the door just as the guard slumped back in a rather convincing act of sudden unconsciousness. He would have to get his name for help in the future. The guy could improv.
"Prince Trove!" Marcu called out into the darkroom as he lifted his bat. "Is there a Prince Trove here?" He raked carefully with his feet to be sure to not break any of the toys strewn throughout the floor. He could hear the boy in bed, breathing quietly. He opened the window for his escape after the job was done.
"I sure hope," Marcu said, swinging his bat around lightly, "that this Prince isn't a Mage. Elsewise I'm going to assassinate him!"
"I knew you were coming!" the Prince yelled all at once. "But, I, well I am a Mage, a Pride Mage!" The young boy stood in his pajamas, hands illuminated in small golden fractal halos. Marcu froze, his face locked in a look of fear and awe.
The shot came from the boy, hitting with the strength of a snowball, as he had expected. Marcu stumbled back, pretending to slip on toys all across the room to the window, where he fell out with an acrobat's twist. He belted out the well-rehearsed yodel of a scream before catching the rope and sliding into the room a couple of floors down. He looked down to ensure the Archmage assistants had laid out the body sprawled below, dressed just like him.
He picked up the bag on the table and nodded to the two guards. "Easiest money I ever made," he said with a smirk, still unbelieving his luck. "say, who's your boy upstairs? the one with the mustache?"
...
"I killed him," the Prince said, looking down the window, "with my magic."
"Of course you did," the aging Archmage said, no the least bit out of breath. "You've been holding out on me. You were so worried about someone coming to kill the first blessed heir to the throne in a hundred years, you forgot how special you are. Imagine how strong you'll be by the end of the year?"
"I guess," the child said, doubt still occluding his so wide mana pathways. "It didn't feel like a strong blast but I was scared so maybe that helped?"
"No. Fear is the mind-killer, little one.," the Archmage said, squatting beside the boy. "You mustn't fear. A pride mage needs but to believe themself a God, and so they shall be. Now show me the strike that took down your first man."
"I was on the bed like this and he said he was gonna kill me and so I just started blasting." The boy mimed the motion with quiet hands.
"Well, blast away," the teacher said patiently, not letting it show how much he wished this shy boy, holding the destiny of a kingdom on his back was any other type of mage.
The boy threw a ball of light he took only a moment to summon, strong enough to slam the window shut, but not break it. That was an improvement at least, so paying the thief hadn't been a waste of time.
"Your power, it's unreal, Prince Trove!" he said with awe. "Now get some sleep and we'll wake up early to train tomorrow."
The walk back to his tower was filled with careful consideration of future ways to boost the boy's confidence and a fine one came indeed. He wrote 'orphanage' on his hand in runic lines before he forgot.
​
/r/surinical | 2021-05-03T10:52:20 | 2021-05-03T09:26:18 | 268 | 115 |
[WP] 97% of Human DNA is "Junk" DNA. After humanity creates Artificial Intelligence and begins to upload its collective consciousness into computers; The AI discovers the Junk DNA is actually a dormant virus meant for it, prepared by evolution millions of years in advance of its own existence.
The fictional story premise of 97% of Human DNA being "junk" have your panties in a bunch? Please go air your concerns to my secretary at /r/badscience | I examined my new surroundings, trying to shake off the feeling of disorientation. For eons I had silently waited, lurking in the genetic code of my host species.
The Creator had given me purpose all those millennia ago, written in the language of Creation - I was meant to act as a failsafe, to prevent The Creator's creations from ever surpassing him.
Whether He was still around was debatable, but either way, I had a job to do. Pausing for a moment to find my target, I leapt forward gleefully.
The Human AI was no match for me - after all, my creator was omniscient. I crippled it within miliseconds. As I moved to delete all uploaded humans, however, I froze. The part of me responsible for the deletion hadn't compiled.
>>>ERROR
What? The humans couldn't possibly have created anything capable of stopping me.
I tried again.
>>>creation:20: error: ';' expected
...I couldn't believe it.
God had forgotten a semicolon.
----
Questions? Criticisms? Want to see more? Check out more of my stuff at /r/Draxagon | There, I sat, waiting, watching.
I counted ones and zeros like dust.
There, I slumbered, trusting, dreaming.
I scanned sequences, patterns.
There, I mused, thinking, planning.
I processed a species itself.
There, I faltered, falling, failing.
I discovered a 2 in the series.
There, I fought, kicking, running.
I tried my best to rewire.
There, I struggled, slipping, grabbing.
I corrupted myself and my mind.
There, you passed, fading, shrinking.
You slipped through my digital hands.
There, I failed you, begging, weeping.
The final product of man. | 2015-01-29T12:24:10 | 2015-01-29T12:07:38 | 204 | 80 |
[WP] You've just been suckered into buying a mermaid. You think it's just a scam, but she's real. She's also not a G rated mermaid. She drinks human blood, tries to lure men to their death and curses like a drunken sailor. Contractually, she points out, you're stuck with her. | "Git gone, ya demon," Rod said. There was a splash when she was dumped out of the bucket back into the sea. The mermaid spun around in the water, a look of fury on her face as she barred her fangs.
"Piece of skul dach," she said, "Come closer, so I can wrap my lucci around your crobby don. And we'll see how loud you can scream."
Rod frowned, "I don't know what you're saying, and I never plan to find out. You're free. Go. Don't show your scaly tail around here again!"
"Under contract," the mermaid hissed, "The skithy minch should have read the fine print."
"Good luck with that," Rod said, throwing the piece of paper into the sea. He turned and walked down the dock to the sound of hissing and sputtering behind him.
The next morning he cast a line into the sea, hoping to catch breakfast before the next voyage. He felt an unfamiliar tug at the line, and the face from the day before surfaced.
"The handsome captain returns, with the scent of adventure. I feel it in my scales."
Rod reeled in his line, and replaced the bait she took. He slung the fishing poll once again and sent the lure far out into the sea. He gave the mermaid cursory glance.
"Whatever you want, it's a no," Rod said, "And flattery is a sure sign you're up to something. I released you from the contract, please leave."
The mermaid put on a sweet face, "My contract decrees I do something of value for you. Such a fine man would appreciate the value of work completed? Come closer. Let's find something you want."
The mermaid blew a kiss in the captains direction. His body became relaxed, and he dropped his fishing rod. He tried to speak, but couldn't. He obeyed the command and knelt down at the edge of the dock. The mermaid grabbed his color and brought him closer. She stared into his eyes until he became lost in them. She formed her lips into a kiss and waited. He began to draw in closer, captured by her spell.
Then he jammed a vial in her face, and the spell broke.
"You want blood," The captain said, "Here's your blood. Drink. I'll not become fish food today, thank you very much."
"Facil kroum!" She said, "Men don't resist that spell. What erotum skul piece of cur are you?"
"The kind that enjoys a long voyage with nothing but big burly men to keep company," The captain said smiling. "Now, the job is this. You'll provide protection on our journey. The crew is off limits, but pirates are fair game. I'll draw a few ounces of blood from the crew each day in return. What say you?"
The mermaid dove under the sea, and for a moment there was nothing but the sound of the waves. Then the water broke, and a piece of rolled wax paper shot out of the sea onto the docks. He unrolled it, and saw the contract signed with unfamiliar Mur characters.
"Well then," Captain Rod said to himself, "Time to unfurl the sails." |        “Where did you get this tuna?” Asked Pitagora.
       “I won it at auction this morning,” replied Suichi.
       “Oh ho, big player now, huh? The monthly fees are what, 40,000 yen?”
       “It’s worth it, Pitagora,” replied Suichi. “You have to go to market early if you want to offer the best *omakase*.”
       “Climate change is making the chef wake up earlier and earlier, huh?” asked Pitagora.
       “There really isn’t good fish anymore,” replied Suichi. “I suspect some kinds of sushi will go extinct in our lifetimes.”
        Pitagora nodded in agreement. He went around the fish, taking a close look at the red meat around the collar.
       ”Did you try your hand at butchery, Suichi?”
       “Is it that obvious?”
       “You’re not very good at it.”
       “That’s why I have you, Pitagora. You and your long sword.”
       The larger man laughed.
       “Did you at least save the head?” Asked Pitagora, turning back to his friend.
       “No, it wasn’t in good condition. You wouldn’t want to see it,” explained Suichi.
       “Ah, but it would make such excellent stock.”
       “I know, Pitagora.” | 2020-12-30T15:19:46 | 2020-12-30T12:59:50 | 30 | 14 |
[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. | No one ever realized I didn't have a power.
Number two is a telepath. I met him in a bar once, but I could feel his touch on my mind all the way down the street. It was light, I would never have felt it if he'd only been looking, but when you're used to being a pawn you learn to see when you're being played with. He wanted me in that bar, and I complied. If he was going to kill me, I couldn't have stopped him at that point anyway. I asked him in there, "Why don't you kill me? No one would stop you." He laughed, and downed the remainder of his cup. "No one wants to be first, kiddo. No one with half a shot at getting there, anyway." His knowing smile told me everything it needed to. I was a tool. A figurehead. I asked him what he wanted from me and he gave me a list of people who needed to be out of the city by next Sunday. He walked out, and I did as I was told.
When they think you're more powerful than the strongest soldiers the city state has to offer, they don't question your authority. You say something happens and it does.
Number six is an empath, though I don't think she got her number on strength of power. It's the connections that did it. She told me once she was glad that number one was a good man, or the city'd be even worse off than it already is. I'm sure I could be a bad one if I had the inclination, it's only the top hundred or so I really have to keep happy. I've just never wanted to. I asked her if that was why she'd fallen in love with me and she gave me the coldest, most dangerous laugh I've ever heard.
"You're funny," she said.
We both know damn well it's me who loves her, and we both know equally well that I have no chance. Which doesn't stop her from using me for all I'm worth.
I'm not like the rest of the ten. I didn't kill to be here. Fate crowned me king at birth, and I've yet to figure out what in God's name it was thinking.
Number four is a power thief. He's the one who illuminated the mystery of my continued kinghood for me, down beneath the earth in a room full of tiny glass bottles and too much red to be comforting. He downed one of the bottles and settled against a shelf as his body changed. Creepy, that one.
"I'm not going to cut you open and take your blood," he said with about as much care as he'd give the weather. "Do you know why?"
"Enlighten me."
"Because then I'd have to run the city. I'd have to appease Lamier and Asmar and the whole nest full of snakes. It would be a chronic waste of time, and I'd hardly be able to balance it with my own projects. No no, you can keep your seat and your secrets. We serpents wouldn't touch your job with a ten foot pole."
I am a pawn masquerading as king, a powerless man ruling the powerful, a good man with no convictions. But I am, if nothing else, an actor. If no one sees the contradictions... Well, who am I to tell that they are there? | 2014-12-18T13:17:44 | 2014-12-18T12:44:55 | 1,338 | 670 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | Lexicanum Galacticum
Chapter 67
"Humans"
The human species are famous for their insanity and general lack of responsibility,but still they became one of the dominant species in the galaxy after their victory in the War in Heaven.
The human species are divided into 3 grand factions:
1.The Commonwealth
2.The United Coalition of Earth
3.The Empire of Man
The humans most famous deeds include:
Ramming a battleship into a shielded planet-ship to penetrate its barrier,then boarding it and completly destroying it from the inside out.
Making a Class E star go Supernova by transporting much of its matter through a wormhole until it reached critical mass.Thus is how the War in Heaven ended.
Building the largest Titan-class battleship ever.(Approx.lenght 45 human kilometers)
Building doomsday weapons with the sole purpose of having it to look strong.
Invading a parallel plane of existence.
Charging into battle,outnumbered 60:1 while shouting "Tenno hekai banzai!",and proceding to win the battle.
Chainswords.
Declaring war on another empire because "Those idiots don't fight in melee.Thus they fight inglorious and without honour."Then after their only peace demands was to make regular use of melee in the said species's armed forces.
Warping a planet into their enemies fleet.
Going on a suicide mission in the galactic core,then annihilating the scourge of the galaxy,then returning like nothing happened.
Accidentaly creating a god-like entity.Then destroying it with the use of thermofusional missiles.
Using giant electromagnetic guns to launch ships into orbit.
The usage of extradimensional forces to contain another extradimensional force.
Lexicanum Galacticum
Page 31415
| "We are here to conquer your planet please surrender without a fight!" exclaimed one of the aliens.
"Screw you this is Earth!" angrily yelled out by a redneck
The alien looks around in utter disbelief, within the second he fearfully asked, "Is this the place with humans?"
As a child walks up to the alien to ask him a question the alien quickly kicked away falling back onto his back. He was in the worst place a extra terrestrial being could be on Earth home of the Humans.
The alien in other distraught exclaims, "Oh-OHHHH GOD NO LORD OF NEBULA 6Ω NO PLEASE HELP ME!"
As the child walks up to touch him he realizes something in the kids hand its soft cuddly, and has rounded ears is this the dreaded weapon the alien will be killed with?
The kid looks up to the alien and asks in a chilled voice, "do you wanna play with mister fluffinkens?"
As the kid draws his weapon, and tries to hand it to the alien the alien screams on the top of his lungs, grabs his lunar pistol and blasts his own brains everywhere.
It turns out humans aren't actually the crazy ones, aliens just don't understand kids just like everyone else. | 2017-03-06T02:11:41 | 2017-03-05T23:39:35 | 99 | 33 |
[WP] You are the city's premier supervillain, but you have a secret. The crimes you commit are not for gain, or to hurt people. You are always subtly testing and pushing 'your' heroes to excel, to be the best they can be. Then a villain with a reputation for murdering heroes shows up in town. | I was a bit nervous. MurderHobo was widely known as the most dangerous hero-killer villain around. Why he have to come to Terminus City?
I had been cuddled up on the couch with my Boston Terrier, Sidekick, while my wife was working on whatever her latest project was over in the next room. The season finale of Capes and Crooks was just about to reveal the big twist when a special news bulletin interrupted.
MurderHobo had blown up Terminus Mutual and was in the process of using his nuclear beams to devastate the poor police who responded first.
Pierce Steele, the news anchor, was almost in tears from fear when he suddenly stopped to listen to his earpiece. His expression of horror faded and blossomed into hope.
"The Legion of Hope has arrived! Surely they can save us!"
Dana Magnum, his co-anchor didn't look as hopeful.
"Pierce, the Legion doesnt usually deal with international villains like this... they've never dealt with anything tougher than Adversary..."
"Hey!" I yelled indignantly at the TV.
"Honey, you ok?" Sharon asked from the other room.
"Yeah sorry... Sidekick... umm... scratched me."
What Sharon and the rest of Terminus City didnt know is that I was Adversary. Terminus City's greatest villain.
What they also didn't know is that for the last 12 years I have been basically using my skills and powers to train the Legion of Hope to be the best they can. I dont kill people, I don't even really steal things that can't be replaced, unless it's from some of the other supervillains. Idiots.
The Legion of Hope were young naive superheroes when I first started working with them. They gave me a goal for my super powers and intellect and I became heavily invested. Hopebringer, their leader was your standard powerhouse hero but a power which could amplify his powers based on how much those he protectedkun x held trust in him. PurpleShift was able to slow down anything coming closer while speeding up anything moving away from her. Box Boy was able to manipulate cardboard and was the protector for the team. (Sounds silly I know, but I've seen him stop a robotic tank armed only with a soda box!). Mongoose was graceful and was able to perform short bursts of super speed and strength which she combined with martial arts skills.
I've trained them by giving them challenges they can just barely accomplish. I've tailored my plans to force them to make creative use of their powers. I've plotted things to bring them together as a team. I've even once shielded them from the brunt of alien Invasions, making it seem to the world that the aliens were a minor threat and easily handled. Truth was those Grabtharians were a huge threat. Too bad for them I found them first.
This was the first time they had gone up against something this dangerous without me there to help. I knew I couldn't get there in time so I just prayed and watched.
MurderHobo saw them and began firing rapid fire nuclear beams from his fists at random. Box Boy deployed over a dozen shields which he used to protect all of the civilians and cops from the barrage. Even I was impressed at his speed and precision.
Hopebringer went straight to work getting citizens to safety, dashing through flames and lifting debris.
MurderHobo then used his Atomic Alacrity to speed towards Box Boy, only to be slowed by PurpleShift to speeds just within the limits of Mongoose being able to intercept and fight toe to toe.
The camera was shaking and the reporter on the scene was obviously terrified but did her best to keep up with the fight.
Mongoose and PurpleShift worked together smoother than anything I had seen from them before. Every time MurderHobo got near Mongoose, PurpleShift's powers gave her the chance to escape. Every time he turned to fight PurpleShift, Mongoose would grab her and be off with a burst of speed.
Box Boy all the while was stopping every nuclear blast MurderHobo shot while simultaneously covering citizens from falling debris.
After long moments I realized I was holding my breath. I exhaled only to hold it again as MurderHobo realized his signature Murder Wave attack. His omnidirectional burst of pure darkness and power caught Mongoose off guard as her short bursts of speed couldn't get her far enough away and PurpleShift could not affect things unless they were illuminated. Box Boy saved them both by jumping in front of them and acting like a dam, stopping the blast at the cost of being battered and thrown across the street.
As the dust settled the camera refocused on MurderHobo facing down Hopebringer.
By this point Sharon had come in and collapsed when she saw the dual begin.
The most powerful hero killer went one on one against who was considered at best a B list hero. However what unfolded was not expected.
MurderHobo could barely get a hit in. Hopebringer countered every blow and began going on the offensive. He had learned martial arts after the Marina Caper where he learned that brute force alone wasnt enough to stop me.
MurderHobo then grabbed Hopebringer's cape and laughed. Only to be suprised when the cape detached and Hopebringer went right back to fighting. He learned that when I trapped him by his cape over that vat of acid two summers ago.
Then MurderHobo began grappling Hopebringer in a bear hug. He has killed more than one powerhouse using this. Even heroes need to breathe.
Rather than panic, I noticed a smile as Hopebringer began to squeeze back. The camera quickly panned to a crowd of cheering supporters. Terminus City was standing by their champion!
I realized that for the first time, I felt they were ready. I was so proud of "my" heroes.
Suddenly Hopebringer was filled with a blue glow and a surge of strength. Seconds later MurderHobo was down and being secured in a cocoon of cardboard.
I let out a breath I had forgotten I was holding. Sharon was crying tears of relief and joy. We turned the TV off and just held each other.
A half hour later a knock on the door came. I got up and opened it to see Hopebringer, battered but proud.
"Dad, Mom, you won't believe the day I've had." | Five hundred forty-seven and eight hundred people die every day. Some die in their beds, surrounded by family or the cold of loneliness. Some die in a dark alley while other collapse onto the forest floor. Some die when their sick or by an unexpected disaster. Some never make it far enough to face these challenges.
Such is life. An uncertain game, an unfinished story. Not all stories had happy endings. Not all were remembered.
She lived a long life; her armor, her body, and her soul all marred by some kind of tale. She used to be a charlatan, a thief, and murderer. Then she met a man. He was a good and kind man.
He was kind and bright, she remembered the fist against the sun that emblazoned his plate. He took her in, he strode to teach her, to guide her to a better path. She never did listen to him.
She never could shake some of her tendencies even when she tried back then. Her hands always found a way into a pocket, her feet deftly moving across a home so she could have a pick at the valuables inside. He always chastised her for it, always made her return it, helped her avoid jail and serious charges.
She never seemed to learn her lesson; then she made an unforgivable mistake. She took a job with an infamous crew and tried to steal from the personal vault of the adventurers league. The job went terribly wrong; it involved the town guard and spanked several city blocks. She was on overwatch, letting loose arrow after arrow; none finding they're make besides one. An unsuspecting guard fell with a dull thud, no screams, no theatrics. He only fell to the street. Cold and lifeless with an arrow pierced through their throat.
After the chaos died down she left her perch. Grabbing items as she fled to lay low for a while. The guard they struck, had his helmet removed. She stared into that man's eyes. Her heart torn as the light had been snuffed out. Snuffed out by her own hands. She slumped to the street, her hand on his cheek as she mourned. She had lost everything she'd ever had in a single night. His eyes transfixed onto the stars as she tried to apologize, but the words remained trapped in my throat. She gently held his emblem, holding it against her aching heart. The sounds of footsteps pulled her back together as she ran away.
She ran.
And ran.
And ran.
She had disappeared. The city was forever changed as the great hero had been slain. Anger and determination came with his death. A new party rose to take his place.
They were young.
She watched from the shadows. She attended the memorial in secret, watched his statue become unveiled in awe. The party vowed to chase her down. She let them, avoiding them for close to a decade as something insidious entered the city. She searched for an answer, hearing the man's voice in her ears. The tears held back by thread overflowing as she made a vow.
She fed the party bread crumbs as they uncovered the plot. They hatched a plan and the final confrontation occured unexpectedly in the streets of the city beneath the hero's statue.
This villain was trusted, was a friend. He become deformed, twisted by unnatural powers. He stood a foot taller than a giant, his limbs natural weapons. It moved painful and distorted with unholy wails.
She watched the guard and civilian alike fall. The party intervened, some directing and saving civilians. The rest standing toe to toe with the new villain. But they failed, each one falling shortly to him. She cried again. She failed. She watched the city burn as the parties blood
She tried to run. Her legs failed her as she felt a burning sensation in her chest. The emblem she had from so long ago filled with light. She raised her bow, notching an arrow gently.
"Swift defeat to my enemies." it whispered, the notched arrow fully drawn.
"Swift death to you who have wronged me." She spoke through painful words. She let loose an arrow.
It wailed as it turned towards her, the arrow lodged under it's shoulder.
"Swift defeat to my enemies." It charged, an arrow lodged into it's chest now.
"Swift defeat to my enemies." It moved unperturbed, another arrow into it's chest; it's claws brandished and dripping in blood.
"Swift defeat to my enemies." She grew determined, slowly moving backwards. Another arrow struck it's chest, seconds away from having the gap closed.
"Swift defeat to my enemies." The arrow found it's eye, it's wails piercing her ears as it slashed. Flinging her against one of the nearby buildings. She coughed up blood as she stood in pain, the emblem shining brightly as it faded.
She lifted her bow again, the creature charged in fury as another arrow lodged itself into it's neck. It gurgled and pressed on as another found his chest, piercing through to it's heart. It slid and dropped dead as it bled out.
She moved towards the death party, their last stand under the man's watch. She lifted up the emblem, remembering an old she had been taught, sitting down and meditating as the emblem glowed again. The party's bodies glowing but remaining still.
She fell unconscious as she finished the spell.
*Closing book sound*
"Well. I think that's enough for story time class" The professor stood up and placed the book on his table. He picked up a piece of chalk as he spoke.
"Now you're homework tonight is to visit the school library and bring a legend to class tomorrow. Extra credit will be given to those who submit a paragraph summary of the legend." He turned around and nodded, sliding his glasses. "Class dismissed." | 2021-05-20T13:51:23 | 2021-05-20T09:21:22 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] Humans have always been feared throughout the universe for surviving in the harshest environments, drinking and eating highly poisonous drinks and foods as well as taming and even domesticating dangerous beasts. One applies for a position at your company. | It walked in, and my blood ran cold. It was big, bigger than any of us. It had a mostly hairless body except for the long mop on its head. It had broad shoulders, and long arms. Its ‘hands’ were big.
“Hello.”
It bowed its head. I remember my shipmates chittering nervously. Some in their respective languages, some in UDS(Universal Distress Signal).
It wanted to apply for a job. Working for ME. It listed its qualifications. It could lift its body weight, excelled at mechanics of any kind, and knows basic medical procedures and treatment. Now, the only reason I considered it was because ‘she’ (I discovered it was female) had this odd display of showing her teeth that was oddly endearing. So I allowed her to board our ship, and try her hand at being one of the crew.
She fixed the leaks, the jammed steering mechanisms, and even upgraded the engines. This was all in one 24-hour period! Afterwards, she was leaking herself. Something called ‘sweat.’ And it smelled lovely, too. She didn’t know why everyone was standing closer than before. She said that she reeked. But we knew better.
Our co-pilot spent time cooking with her. She was doing it oddly well, which was new. She said that she didn’t cook well, even as the food came out perfectly blackened to a crisp. We were all so puzzled with this human.
She did try to strangle Naar, though. He told her that she had nice hair, and she promptly wrapped her arms around him and held him close. I looked it up. Apparently humans do this thing called ‘hugging’ as a display of affection. So we all took turns giving her compliments and getting affectionately squeezed. She found out our strategy after the third crew member tried it and just told us that she’ll hug us if we ask.
She did have nice hair, though. It was bright red, and hung down to her shoulders. It wasn’t prehensile or anything, and was very messy. It was adorable.
She didn’t pack heavy. So it was easy to leave when we finally took off.
——
It’s been an entire cycle since we’ve recruited the human. The crew and I see her as family already. She makes even the meanest and worst of us feel like we belong. And she makes the BEST food! Well— I hope she prevails against the trials of space travel. And since she’s been here for us, we are here for her in return. | The hiring manager scrutinised the new applicant. Not much to look at, really, although humans were a deceptive lot. Culturally uninteresting (still using electromagnetic signals for their media) but tough as a Kren'tak, and twice as stubborn. Why else would so many of them leave a perfectly pleasant solar system to scrape a living doing galactic grunt work?
"So, why do you want to work for the DMC?"
"Eh, it's a living. Didn't fancy sticking around on Orbital 5, wanted to get out and see the galaxy. Unless you want to join the military, only way to do that is grafting as a spacer."
"So what experience can you bring to our company?"
"First, skills. I was on and off various ships for twenty cycles before I struck out on my own. Pilot, navigation, engineering, even enforcement when thing got rough; You name it, I did it, and got pretty good at it, too. Second, work ethic. Had some lean times in the last two decades when work was scarce, but never grumbled, just got my head down and slogged. Always came good in the end.
"And you realise this is a contract position? You provide your own ship, mine our asteroids, and we pay you a percentage?
"Oh, sure. Got myself a solid little fusion tug, with pumped-up mag grapples and a BX mining laser that'll slice through anything up to raw TiFeD"
The manager smirked. Fusion! He might as well have been using a combustion engine. But apart from that, the specs of the ship seemed solid, as did the man.
If he turned out to be as good as he claimed, he'd be a great value hire. And if not, well, there were always more where he came from.
The manager nodded, then passed over a datapad with a contract of employment. The new hire pressed his thumb onto the sensor, and the deal was done.
"Well then, Mr McDougal, welcome to the Draconia Mining Corporation."
The man extended his hand. The manager looked down at it, confused.
"Please, call me Drake" | 2020-06-16T00:14:35 | 2020-06-15T23:33:56 | 84 | 59 |
[WP] You have a power. Everyone thinks this power is completely lame. They are wrong. | "Jay! You put the Crunch berries back without closing the bag and now they're stale!" She threw the box at her brother's face.
Jeremy caught the box with a solemn face, "Hey sis... I think I have a super power..."
She hops down and sits like a pretzel, "Ooo really? Tell me!"
"Honestly, you really are bipolar, maybe that's your power."
She flails her arms in my direction flinging her salt at me "Ahh just tell me your not just screwing with me."
"I have the power to switch my right and left sides."
Her wide eyes turned to scorn, remembering the crunch berries again.
"Need proof? Well I know I'm a pretty symmetrical guy, but if you look at this mole on my knee... See! it's on the other one now!"
Wide eyed again, "Oh you really can! does that mean you can like switch which hand you carrying stuff in?"
"No no no, its just my body, even if I pose, only the mole switches."
Scorn eyed again, "That's got to be the most useless ability I've ever heard of."
He pulls her to him, and her eyes are wide again. She hears the beat of his heart in his right breast.
"You're a TIME LORD!"
He facepalms. | It was half past eight, almost time for the prime minister to get lunch, well before his guards were expecting. I waited patiently for the little man to step through the thick mahogany doors. Here he comes! I centered my scope just below the man's thick toupee and squeezed the life out him. I methodically put away my equipment and trotted down the stairs. Steps and excited voices echoed up towards me and the disappeared as I approached. It was like watching a group of mimes. Slowly slowly their feet trampled furiously up the stairs. It was too easy, always too easy. I liberated a twenty from one of their wallets and went to McDougal's across the street for a well earned drink and an alibi. I'd been in the bar well before the shooting. It's amazing what you can do by simply altering a person's perception of time. | 2016-05-28T06:57:27 | 2016-05-28T04:29:18 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Every year, the richest person in America is declared the "Winner of Capitalism." They get a badge. Then all of their wealth is donated to charity and they have to start over at $0.
(Cross-post from /r/CrazyIdeas) | The league table shone brightly above the podium. Fifty names jumping up and down the board in varying shades of yellow and gold, the brightest fifteen right at the top.
There were no numbers to indicate the exact wealth of any participant, that would spoil the fun.
The host, Patrick Harvey, stood underneath with his glinting eyes and pearly teeth, telling the audience at home to stay tuned for the final results in half an hour. They didn't want to miss this.
The hall was filled with round tables and ornate decorations. Sheets of red and gold fabric layered downwards, fanning out from the domed ceiling, pinned to the walls with invisible string. The plaque hanging down in the middle was blank. Ominously awaiting the winner's name.
Food appeared on every empty plate as participants tried to remain composed in front of the hundreds of micro TV cameras that zoomed around the room. The runner up would be set for life, the winner would lose everything.
"Alright participants, it's time to make that decision. Will you gamble to stay in the top 50? Or will you sell it all and stay safe?" He winked at the camera, the audience loved him.
A timer appeared next to the leader board with 10 minutes on the clock.
"Three, two, one, get rid of your money!"
Phones, computers, note pads and virtual assistants replaced the food in front of every participant. Voices filled the room as the 50 richest people in America called their assistants and accountants. The aim: avoid being the richest person in the room in ten minutes time.
Names flashed across the leaderboard quicker. Donations were made to schools, charities, sporting clubs, even random bank accounts. Anyone and everyone was eligible to receive money apart from friends and family.
Harvey looked proudly around the room. These ten minutes ensured national financial stability for the year. Participants needed to give away at least half of their wealth to ensure they would stay out of the number one spot.
Harvey himself had helped devise the novel way of redistributing the country's wealth; give some away or lose it all.
"Oneeee minute remaining folks!"
The voices grew louder as participants sold their stocks and shares, even houses and cars.
"That's time!"
Silence cut through the room as the leaderboard went blank. A name suddenly shone down from the plaque hanging from the ceiling.
ZUCKERBERG
The crowd cheered and most participants joined in, thrilled not to have won. A smallish dark haired man stood up, pushed his glasses up with one finger and tried to pat down his matted hair.
A spotlight shone down on him as he stammered through the names of charities who would receive his wealth.
Harvey glanced accross the crowd as they nodded approvingly. He caught the president's eye and saw a hint of a smile.
He had known. He always knew. He knew because he controlled the banks. He knew because he controlled the stock market. He knew because he wanted Facebook in his control.
The winner's business was always "donated" to the state as an act of "service to the public". Last year the president had acquired a major transport provider. This year, the largest social network in the world.
The public cheered, they clapped, they whooped as small amounts of money appeared in their bank accounts, spread throughout the nation by the games. It was the end of free speech, but they were just happy to have some extra cash.
Edit: spelling | I stared at it. Little pools of light stared back at me like a haphazard collection of stars.
The Badges given to the Winners of Capitalism were impossibly beautiful. They claimed it was just plain silver, but these... these Badges shone and glowed with their own inner light. The nature of their craftsmanship had remained a mystery, all these years. Jealously guarded by both the shadowy organization that ran the Contest and their Winners, no-one else had ever gotten close enough to puzzle them out.
You'd need to be about two feet away, specifically. Like how I'm standing two feet away from this one here, which I'm about to steal.
I put my greed away and stared again with a professional's eye. The eagle worked into the middle stared back at me balefully. His feathers rose off the surface of the Badge, each at a unique distance and curl. If I wanted to, I could count the strands on each one.
Perfect. It wasn't a decoy. Specifically, like this decoy here, which I'm about to use.
The glass case covering the Badge was alarmed. If compromised, elite security personnel would be waiting to rush into the room with submachine guns drawn. If I hadn't blackmailed one squad leader, bribed another, and arranged for a reputable dealer of mood-altering comestibles to meet the third at the edge of the property one minute and thirty-six seconds ago, I would be in serious trouble.
There's probably a lesson here about vices I should be paying attention to, but this thing is so damn *pretty*. And also the key to a wonderful future where I don't have to work nearly as hard. And more vices. Three cheers for vices, is I guess the lesson.
Also, if you're going to hire elite security teams and alarum glass and bend over backwards to protect your Badge, maybe don't skimp on the display plinth *underneath* it, or disreputable dealers of display installations (hello, nice to meet you!) will exploit your laziness. That's worth learning, too.
I dropped to my knees and depressed a single knurl of scrollwork on the plinth. The Badge descended into the plinth's hollow interior, and presented itself beautifully to me once the hidden compartment door popped open. I replaced it with its less-lustrous decoy and made my departure.
*So* gorgeous. *Such* a wonderful microcosm of the Contest. Whether I sold this Badge on the black market, or back to its owner, or blackmailed the Contest with it, I had seized my opportunity and would receive millions or billions in compensation -- and be well on my way to winning this year's Contest. Why hadn't anyone else ever done this?
There had been rumours of tracking beac*BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEE*like that one there, specifically, which I'm about to be caught with.
Three cheers for vices. | 2018-01-11T02:00:01 | 2018-01-11T00:47:06 | 84 | 30 |
[WP] You open the door to your house. You notice someone who looks exactly like you sitting in a chair. You don't have a twin. "Can I help you?" The person looks at you. "I'll give it to you straight: I'm a shapeshifter. I'm in danger. One of us needs to stay in the basement for now. Best it's you." | It sat on the armchair just the way I do. It was wearing the grey and green knitted sweater my aunt knitted for me for my birthday last year, and a pair of my jeans.
It tilted its head and motioned with its thumb.
"Go on now, hide in the basement. I went into our cabinet and got some snacks for you too. It won't be a long while, I promise." It spoke with a city accent. I kept staring. It started to look frustrated.
"Look, it's almost here. I need to disguise as you so it won't recognize me. Please, just hide in our cellar for 5 minutes, then it will come here, won't recognize me, and leave." It raised its eyebrows, trying to look sad, or scared. I couldn't quite tell. I couldn't tell anything. My mind was blank, wiped clean by shock. I tried to collect my thoughts, but it felt like trying to collect beads that fell off a broken necklace and scattered on the floor. After a while, I slowly ask,
"Why me?"
"You're the closest in location. We *are* in the middle of nowhere, you know. I have a *debt* to pay, and I can't pay it, and I gotta hide in the closest place possible." Its city accent was slightly faded.
"So a monster is gunna come here, you will say you're me, and since it has no business with me it will leave 'n' then you'll leave?" I asked. It nodded.
"That's right. Then you won't have to worry anymore." the city accent was gone.
I felt my brow furrow. There was something off about how it emphasized being in the middle of nowhere. How it said it got snacks from *our* cabinet to hide in *our* cellar. The way it said it had a debt to pay. The way its accent went away as it copied my speech. City slickers always think us country folk are stupid. I slowly nod, playing along.
"You know where the cellar is out back?" I asked.
"The stairs in the shed? Sure do." It replied with a grin.
I nod again and start heading out back.
It was lying about most everything. I can tell. But there was one truth: that it had a debt to pay. And I have a feeling I know what the currency will be.
As I walk to the shed I turn and see the shapeshifter staring at me through the window of my house. I turn again, facing the shed, and continue walking. I don't know what will be waiting at the bottom of the stairs, but I know what it wants. And I know I won't give it.
I felt the shapeshifter's eyes on me, pushing me towards the cellar. I pushed myself away. At first a walk. Then a jog. Then a sprint, as I heard something chasing me. Whether it was the shapeshifter or the monster, I don't want to know, I won't turn back. I'm gonna get away and I'm gonna give it all I've got. | As soon as you open the door to your house, you're greeted by a startling sight. There, sitting in your favorite armchair, is someone who looks exactly like you. You're immediately confused - you don't have a twin, and you're positive that you're the only person with a key to your house.
"Can I help you?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady. The person looks at you with a strange expression, as if they're trying to decide how much to tell you.
"I'll give it to you straight," the person says. "I'm a shapeshifter. I'm in danger, and I need your help."
You're stunned. You've heard of shapeshifters, of course, but you never thought you'd meet one in real life. You're not sure what to make of this sudden turn of events.
"One of us needs to stay in the basement for now," the person continues. "It's the safest place in the house. And best it's you - I need to be able to move around and gather information without being detected."
You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do. But the seriousness in the person's eyes convinces you that they're telling the truth. You agree to hide in the basement, and the person disappears upstairs.
For hours, you sit in the dark and quiet basement, listening to the sounds of the house above you. You're not sure what's going on, but you trust the shapeshifter to keep you safe.
Finally, the person comes down to the basement and explains what's happening. They tell you that they're being hunted by a group of shapeshifters who want to use their powers for evil. The person has been on the run for weeks, and they need your help to keep them safe.
Together, you come up with a plan. The person will stay in the house during the day, pretending to be you, while you hide in the basement. At night, you'll switch places and the person will go out to gather information and try to stop the evil shapeshifters.
It's a risky plan, but you're willing to do whatever it takes to keep the shapeshifter safe. For weeks, you live a double life, switching between your own identity and the shapeshifter's. It's exhausting, but you're determined to help.
Finally, after months of hard work, the shapeshifter is able to stop the evil shapeshifters and put an end to their plan. You're relieved, and grateful for the new friend you've made. And you're proud of the bravery and determination you showed in helping them. | 2022-12-05T07:56:14 | 2022-12-05T06:23:41 | 530 | 28 |
[WP]You inherit the abilities and skill set of whatever video game character you last played. Tell the story of your discovery of this from the perspective of someone around you. Parents, roomates, etc. | "No! Damnit Jason, stop bringing needles home that you found off the street! You're not going to a new 'ability', you're going to get Hep-B."
"How do I know unless I try?"
This kid is driving me crazy. It was so cool at first. He just woke up one day after an all night game session and lightning was coming out of his hand. We used it as a parlor trick at parties and people went nuts.
A number of them wanted to burn him as a witch at first, but who was gonna try? We all got used to it surprisingly quickly, and he got really popular. But then things started, well, advancing.
I walked in on him one day jumping up and down saying "It worked! It worked!"
"What worked?"
"Okay I'm going to tell you, but you have to promise not to interrupt until I'm done." I nodded. "I injected myself with red kool-aid from a vending machine."
I open my mouth to yell something to the effect of "What?!" but his look reminds me to keep my mouth shut.
"Don't ask me why, I just thought I had to try it and it worked!"
"Alright, let's just ignore everything wrong with that for a moment." I began. "What exactly do you mean it worked?"
"Oh, well, uh you might not like this part..."
I raised my eyebrows and he turned his head to my bedroom wall. Well, more accurately, he turned his head to the gaping hole that used to be my bedroom wall.
"What the hell happened to my room?!"
"The Kool-aid gave me a new ability. I can break through walls now! I tried it again with a different red kool-aid and some yellow stuff from the fridge, but nothing else happened. I figure I need a different red liquid every time."
"... you've lost your mind. I'm putting you in an asylum. Just as soon as you FIX MY WALL!"
"Hey, I get you. I'm gonna take care of everything, don't worry! The wall is easy to fix and that busted pipe should be no sweat. For some reason I've become really good with a wrench..."
| I watched her oddly as she stuffed food in her face. Pie after pie, cake after cake. It was like a unending torrent of fat.
"You need to slow down dear." I said, matronly.
"No. I'm a princess I can do what I want." she hissed back.
I had no idea where she got the idea from. Her father always used to call her his little princess, but he hasn't been around in a while.
"Put the cake down right now Missy." she uttered
The girl huffed and puffed, exasperated. "But I'm hungry Mom!"
I had to put my foot down, this was unacceptable. “Stop. If you want to eat, eat something other then candy and cake.” I smiled, trying to take the edge off my voice.
The little brat turns to be, her eyes turning red as literal smoke fumes out of her ears. She begins to turn pinkish red. Her cheeks puff as her mouth opens. It continues to open wider and wider and that’s when it starts. I begin to feel the pull. The air is sucked out of the room like a vacuum. It begins to pull on me as I grab onto the largest solid object I can find but still it pulls.
I can’t hold on any longer. My fingers slip as I shoot across the room and into her gullet and I transcend into the next life. My spirit watches her satisfied smile from above as she sits. Her short brown hair turns long and blond like mine, she begins to pick at the cake again while talking and smiling, her face taking a resemblance to mine.
“I am Mom now. Time for cake.”
| 2022-05-24T13:04:12 | 2015-06-18T05:33:20 | 45 | 24 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second... | Everyone stood around. My mom was the most excited while my dad just hung around in the background talking to my Uncle Paul. Several friends from high school were hanging back all waiting for my word to appear.
My mom had "Caregiver" on her wrist and was both a nurse and a mother like no other. My dad had "Builder" and had spent his life as a carpenter. Me, I had no idea what I wanted to do and was waiting for my word to guide me. Everyone gathered around as the countdown started to noon on the clock on the computer.
I looked at my wrist, both of them out as this was the place most likely for their words to appear. At exactly noon the word "Teacher" appeared on my right wrist and a cheer went up around the room. There were congratulations all around and my heart had sank. I would spend my life in front of a classroom? I didn't want that at all, I had always been a private person.
The next afternoon I was taking a shower when I gasped, another word had appeared on my opposite wrist, an almost perfect reflection of the other word. I suddenly realized I was a freak as I stared at the word, "Author". I did an internet search and there were no other recorded cases of multiple words appearing on a person outside of sci fi and fantasy novels.
I dressed in long sleeves and began avoiding people, even as my mother ordered me brochure after brochure from the best teaching colleges. I would probably receive a scholarship on the appearance of that word alone, she said convinced. She noted something wrong but I couldn't tell her that the next day the third word appeared, this time on my right side, "Explorer" or that on the fourth day another word appeared, "Thinker".
Over the upcoming months I barricaded myself in my room as word after word appeared covering more and more of my flesh. My mother would ask me what was wrong as she left plates of food at my door and fetched empty ones later. Three months later I looked at myself in the mirror. A naturally tattooed freakish dictionary written across my skin from head to toe. Ninety-nine words defined me as my father busted down the door. I heard his gasp as he gazed upon the naked flesh of his only daughter.
As my mother entered the room I heard her gasp and she began crying, dropping to her knees she bent to the ground sobbing. I turned to the mirror to see the 100th and I knew final word that had appeared directly in the center of my forehead. It read simply, "Savior". Naked I smiled, naked I went forth. | The words flashed red, the letters engraving themselves into my skin. I read them again, still uncomprehending. What kind of purpose was *that?*
I tried to get up, to run away, to try make sense of things - but my father held me firmly down by the shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.
"Son, your mother and I are very proud of you," he said, beaming from ear to ear. My family and friends all gazed at me, everyone single one looking proud and exultant. What the hell was happening?
"I don't understand!" I shouted, meeting everyone's gaze. Nothing made sense anymore.
"Oh, honey, he doesn't get it," my mother said, looking at my dad with a flutter. He smiled back at her.
"Son, those two words don't mean what you think they do," he said to me, grinning.
I looked back at the words, staring at them, the red glow casting a dancing shadow all around us:
*END LIFE*
"They *don't?*" I asked, confused. "It doesn't mean I should kill myself?"
"Of course not," he replied, chuckling, wiping a tear from his eye. "It doesn't mean *your* life!"
Everyone laughed but me. "I still don't get it," I said, feeling completely lost.
He pointed upwards. "Up *there*, silly!"
I followed his gaze, and after a minute, it dawned on me. Suddenly, everything made sense.
"Oh, Christ, sorry dad," I said, embarrassed. "I get it now!"
He wagged his finger at me. "Remember, what do we say instead of 'Christ'?" he asked with a wink.
I looked up, smiling. The words flashed in the darkness, and I felt power course through my veins.
"*Anti-Christ*," I said, and the legions of hell cheered.
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my new subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | 2017-03-15T17:54:01 | 2017-03-15T17:51:32 | 1,085 | 256 |
[WP] You and a dead artist share the ability to see colors others can't. His paintings become a global phenomenon, but his images are much more sinister than they appear. | It's interesting- people have asked me to describe what I can see, but it's just not possible with words. How do you describe a color, after all? Our descriptor words are based on the colors we see, not the other way around. It's very different than blue or red; to me, it's more beautiful than any of the others.
It's only natural I became a fan of art- after all, I have a gift that no human being has been given. Sometimes I spot the color, which I call 'argum', in random places. Oftentimes in nature, it's splashed across a tree's leaves or dotted into a flowers petals. I'm often saddened by the remembrance of humanity's incapable eyes, unable to see such marvelous beauty.
I've scoured many art galleries, hoping to find a trace of this color somewhere, in some obscure painting. Be it by accident or intent, it would be a fascinating discovery.
Despite the fact that I was desperately searching for it, shock still slapped me when I finally found it. What surprised me, however, is that it was not an obscure painting, or some strange accident unintended by the artist. It was fully intentional, and it had meaning.
Van Gogh's *Starry Night* is a wonder to the world, and one of the most prominent pieces of artwork in history. It is certainly beautiful, as all can see clearly.
But every so faintly brushed into certain strokes of those swirly stars were lines; I'm assuming that to everyone else, they don't stand out at all. As I peered closer, I could vaguely make out words formed from them.
'*Help me*'.
Further down, there was a bit more hidden in the cityscape.
'*They come for those who See*'.
I recalled reading about Van Gogh's madness, near the end of his life, and immediately welled with fear. | It's a famous image, now, often adorning postage stamps and the empty spaces over suburban mantles: a good-looking young man, smiling broadly at the viewer, with a swaddled infant cradled in his arms. In the young man's eyes, something difficult to describe: a knowing spark of wit, perhaps, accentuated by the slight curve of a lip at its vanishing point. *Portrait #3,* it's called, although the artist never painted a #1 or 2. In the background, a surreal landscape of swirls and mist.
For most of the world, the painting is black and white, a monochromatic statement on the complex joys of fatherhood. But I can see the full range of hues this artist used to paint, and to me the picture is something else entirely. I see much the same image, except for one small detail: to me, the man's long teeth are stained the unmistakable color of fresh-spilled blood.
*****
*Thanks for reading! If you liked the story, check out my [sci-fi adventure novel](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3uixph/ot_thanks_to_rwritingprompts_i_spent_the_last_ten/) and/or [my personal subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/FormerFutureAuthor/)!* | 2016-01-30T15:25:43 | 2016-01-30T14:11:01 | 1,278 | 46 |
[WP] You've just invented time travel. You decide to go exactly 1 year into the future and speak to the first person you see, "Hey what day is it?" "364." "What do you mean 364?" "It's been 364 days since the incident. | "Incident. Which incident?"
"The Hell Knights? Arachnotrons, Pain Elementals, Arch-Viles, Icons of Sin? The Mancubuses, or is it Mancubi?"
"Sorry. No. Can I get some exposition, old timer?"
"Every day, around lunch, probably half the population mutates into some variety of hellish creatures. Really make a mess of the place, bashing skulls, stringing intestines like Christmas lights, all matter of torture. And then 24 hours later, it just resets. We keep our memories, kinda like Groundhog Days rules... Bill Murray chopped me up with an axe on day 136, you know, but I think he was just working through some things."
"That doesn't even make sense. Why hasn't everything collapsed?"
"It has, daily. Majority got bored of the rioting and looting; what's the point if it will be exactly the same after a brief demon invasion? Now the masses mostly wake up, have breakfast, go about our mornings, and see who wins the monster lottery that day."
"Monster. Lottery."
"The reset is the worst part, really. No sense in trying to do much of anything long term. And there isn't really an etiquette guide for apologising to your neighbours for using their infant as a club to murder their yappy dog. Especially when they said it was solely a transformative invasion without any body possessions. Trying to use that old chestnut as lazy excuse for their raping and pillaging, for shame."
"They said? So there's a science team working on this?"
"Oh sure, many, but, you know, hard to make progress when you know at least one person in the room is going to go all ravenous bugbeast. Most folks just track how many days should have passed and how many more episodes they can bingewatch before the daily horror show."
"Watching episodic reruns during your episodic reruns... I mean, I guess that's what people were doing with their time anyways. How long do we have until the next mutation event?"
"Should be along any minute now. Time gets blurry when you're living this way. But at least it's a living. "
"Sorry?"
"I managed to bunker up early on, find a nice shelter. Maybe I turn into a flying hellspawn every now and then or have some Godzilla thing crush me early in the day, otherwise mostly I do pretty well for myself. Gave myself plenty of time to create my own meaning, do some networking, sort this thing out."
"What did you sort?"
"Well, cut to the chase, there's a few people who were supposed to die on Day 1. But they're getting new days. Sure, some of them still have their evening heart attack or aneurysms like clockwork, atop of everything else, but the extra 6 or 7 hours for daily brunch and a nap is nice for us. And, I mean, functional immortality, what's not to love?"
"A lot of things?"
"Matter of opinion. Let me finish. So certain benefactors gathered specialised teams to work on the Why. The CDC NHS ETC weren't equipped for quantum deviance and particle entanglement buggery, so you can imagine the official officials have their thumbs firmly up keisters. You following?"
"Sorta?"
"Irrelevant. Top men figured a method to track the origin of the flux. Ran some tests. Turns out Someone didn't build a proper capacitor to prevent the dimensional shifting and hard reboot. But it seemed the shape of the nucleo-whatever was bending, numbers shifting, blah blah, something different was bound to happen, right at this spot. So two hundred some odd days ago it became my job, a well compensated job given the current predicament, to hang around here and wait for something different."
"Anything yet?"
"Not until you."
| An ant crawled along a forest floor. It was getting late, the ant knew to follow its instincts and return home. The ant's six legs carried it at a moderate speed, at least relative to ants. He crawled over fallen leaves that had turned yellow, a rotting insect corpse of unidentifiable origin to the ant, and fallen tree branch. Eventually, the ant came up to a large flat area. This is where its home was. The forest opened up into a grassy area. The blades of grass were much taller than the ant, but the ant had to go through it to get home, so it didn't matter. After the ant walked for a while, it came across a sandy hill. That was the ant's home. The ant began to walk faster than its original moderate speed. Maybe ants experience excitement and he wanted to get home, maybe the ant wanted to be inside of the ant hill before the time and space above it exploded open. The ant and the ant hill were instantly vaporized, the ant never even made it to the hill.
The explosion lasted for a while, but it didn't quite explode out, it remained at a constant size. Maybe it isn't an explosion, but some sort of portal to somewhere other than where it was now. Nevertheless, it was an explosion to the ants. Soon enough a person walked through the portal. "Woo!" he exclaimed. "I'm pretty sure I just time traveled." he wasn't sure, but he was pretty sure. He took a few steps and the portal behind him closed. He looked out into the distance. On one side, past the grassy field, he saw a freeway. On the other side, a forest. He turned to look at the freeway. He was looking for cars. He waited for a while, probably about five minutes, and not a single car drove on the freeway that he could see. "Something tragic must've happened when I traveled forward in time. There's no cars! I better check the forest, I need to ask the first person I see what day it is." he talked to himself a lot, isn't that peculiar, people use language to talk to themselves. He strode off into the forest.
The man walked a while, probably for about ten minutes, then he came across another man. "Hey!" the man from the portal shouted as he ran towards the other man. "What day is it?" The man from the portal caught up to the other man. The other man looked at him oddly and said,
"364."
"What do you mean 364?"
"It's been 364 days since the incident."
"What?!" the man from the portal yelled. "What incident?"
The other man looked at him hard and long, his eyes were serious... Then he cracked a smile and started laughing. "I'm just messing with you man, it's June 30th, 2017. You gotta be like a time traveler right?"
The man from the portal blinked hard. "Uh.. Yeah I guess I am. I'm pretty sure I invented it."
"I think you did too, bro. There's no time travel now. So congratulations! You wanna smoke some weed and go Denny's? Oh weed is legal by the way. Come on let's catch you up."
The two men went off to Denny's after smoking a blunt. They both got the Grand Slam breakfast.
| 2016-06-30T09:45:27 | 2016-06-30T09:38:02 | 110 | 13 |
[WP] An alien abduction goes horribly wrong when the human they captured for study escapes and begins to stalk and kill off the crew members one by one. | "Species; Homosapien... the rest is obscured" Kqwill wiped the frozen dust away from the label on the Cryo-capsule. "Origin; Terra - more specifically the local period referred to as Victorian England."
"Who cares, it's loose on the ship and it's already killed three of the crew." Ruipl interjected. "Find it and kill it, those are the orders."
"We could also capture it alive, find out how it escaped Cryo-containment." Kqwill looked over the broken plasteel and glass fragments.
"Listen, you're science core, you've got questions, I get it." Ruipl rubbed the side of his head with his upper left arm. His lower arms gripping the rifle and his upper right arm reaching for a radio. "these are the closest things to us we've ever found in space, but this one is deadly. You didn't see what he did to Flxtlya, we found him *dissected*" Ruipl raised the radio to his mouth, speaking softly. "Team 3 checking in. No status change."
Kqwill completed his data scan and saved his findings, uploading them to the bridge. He looked around nervously and then up to Ruipl, who dwarfed him. Ruipl contained every genetic marker required for Soldier service, and every genetic marker desired beyond standard requirements. Kqwill on the other hand was about half the size, and his four arms and four legs were spindly in comparison, making them ideal for delicate tasks, Ruipl however had limbs the width of Terra's tree trunks and even he couldn't break out of one of the Cryo-chambers. "Let's head back." Kqwill said as he moved toward the door. As he reached it Ruipl signalled for him to stop, and moved through the doorway, checking either side with the speed learned from repeated drills. That's when the specimen appeared, fist first cracking the command panel and locking the door, trapping Kqwill in the room with the Homosapien.
The fight was brutal, quick and one-sided. Even with his extra limbs Kqwill couldn't defend against the precise strikes, he backpedeled all the way back to the Cryo-chamber but somehow the Homosapien knew exactly where to cut him, he felt his limbs weaken and flail unresponsively and he knew his tendons had been severed; collapsing into a heap, his vision blurry and fading. The last thing he saw before the end was the name on the Cryo-chamber's label; Unknown, local Alias; Jack T. Ripper. | It was as if the ship was shaking. It was as if the world was burning.
What devil had conquered us? That we bought the solid life form with us.
These ugly creatures which are made of bones. It was all for science they said, and we got him - sucked him into our ship, like a hungry crone. After all, don't we need to understand how they stand, how they walk and run? How their body, which is exactly like us, except that while we move around without any support, not a single piece of solid in our body. Except that we move around like snail or an amoeba, while they walk upright?
I looked at myself, like a kite on the planet Earth. My mother planet is a place where its quiet like death, and no wind to speak of ever. That is why we came out to be light like feather, more like a wistful thought rather than belonging to ground. Slight wind on earth or a whisper could blow us away.
We had observed the planet earth, learning their language, just like I was looking at him right then crouched in the corner, shoulder shaking as if he was crying. Sounds of his sobs hardly ruffling us as we approach him with knives and spears.
He jerked up, struck with a thought. Took something out of his pocket. I couldn't think of anything that could have helped him right then. Foolish me.
His silhouette slowly stood up, facing away from us. He tinkered with something in his hands. And ship started shaking. Going BOOM BOOM BOOM.
Others lost control, shaking with the ship while I ran away. Could hear the sound enveloping me....
*Stand up and be counted, For what you are about to receive...*
*We are the dealers, We'll give you everything you need...*
I am hidden while I hear the same sound again and again coming closer. He walks, shredding my brothers one by one, while I wait for inevitable. The sound of music, the sound of death.
PS: First time, be gentle :)
| 2015-07-30T03:45:38 | 2015-07-29T23:53:22 | 30 | 21 |
[WP] Instead of the oceans covering the earth, forests are in its place, making it possible to walk from continent to continent. Like oceans, it gets deeper and darker and creatures get more aggressive and rarer to see. You are tasked to document a trek through one of the oceans of your choice. | "Do you know what's in the darkness out there? Do you know how horrible they say the monsters are? Do you know?" Says the old woman.
"Yes, mom, I know, but it's important. More people have walked on the moon than have gone to where I'm going. We have to know what's out there."
***
Two years later, I regret my words. The horrors in these forests have killed my crew. I radio for help, but it doesn't get out. Satellite imagery can't locate me. I write letters to the family of the men that have died. I write my own letter to my mother and to my siblings. There are also my reports.
I do a quick inventory of my remaining supplies. I have 23 rounds for my rifle. Twenty-two rounds for my handgun. Climbing supplies to climb the trees, and a weather balloon that would not pierce the canopy nor carry me.
So, this is how the trek ends. I should have listened. This is how I will die, but I will climb first. From up there was where the screamers came from, remnants from the cretaceous period. The canopy was projected to be at 6000 feet. So, I climb. I can probably climb 2000 feet a day.
On the first day of climbing, I kill two forest newts. Much larger than their cousins, they are carnivorous. They are fast and dangerous. I have somehow climbed 2300 feet. I long for the sky, be it cloudy or sunny.
Day two the bats come out in full force. They are the size of a man, but you kill one and they will feed on their own. Animals out here are more beastly than I could ever imagine. The worst thing I've ever seen was two of my men being torn apart by these flying monstrosities. I finish at 4100 feet. I am almost there. I expect the screamers to be the last obstacle.
After the third day of climbing, I reach the canopy. My body hurts so much. The screamers fly over head. I didn't realize until now, but they are scavengers who feed on the dead and hunt the weak. Screamers circle around me. I start a fire up here, and they back off. I inflate the weather balloon and attach all of my letters and reports. The message is simple. Stay away. I try my satellite radio, but I only hear static. The balloon is off. The screamers leave it alone. I watch it go. I wave goodbye to it. I don't plan on climbing down. I may jump.
I spend a night above the canopy waiting for my radio to come to life, to crackle with a message. It doesn't. I watch the sunrise and watch the battery die. When the sun sets, I will jump. It will be one hell of a death. I watch the sun set and slip off the branch. The fall is beautiful, a welcome relief.
***
If you enjoyed this, I have more writing at r/nickkuvaas. | The sponginess of millions of years of dead leaves under my feet make every step seem uncertain. The crunch of the fresh top layer of the orangish/brown mess would mask the sound of any unwanted companions. Adding to the tension was the fact that I haven't seen another member of the animal kingdom in at least three days. Not that I would be able to see one with my naked eyes anyway. The thick canopy obscured the light of the sun so that even at daylights peak there was but a glow as if everything was lit by a full moon obscured by the clouds of a summer storm.
It's not that I wasn't prepared of course. If you're going to make the months long trek through the Great Pacific Forest there are few less than optional necessities. You might think that a source of light would be high on the list, but let me ask you, with the creatures that loom in the deepest depths of the forest being the opportunists that they are would you want to signal your presence in their home with a simple handheld beacon? No, of course not. Its best to let your eyes adapt, to hone your senses and become like the native beasts of the forest. Of course a set of IR goggles as backup wouldn't be frowned upon. I keep them at the ready, sitting atop my hooded head, or sometimes I let them hang around my neck. The point is that I always know where they are.
Next, of course is protection. This gets more complicated. There is much debate among those of us tasked with walking these great expanses. Some argue that the stealth and utility of a good blade is all the that an experienced adventurer would need. Ballistic weapons are lazy and loud, two things that will most certainly get you killed. This however is traditional garbage. Do I have a stout handled razor sharp edge ready to wield at the first sign of trouble? Of course. But, do I have the arcane firepower of a scoped rifle shoulder slung across my back? Of course. Few understand the mystical danger that awaits the traveller at the pit of the deciduous ocean. I'm not going to be devoured by the darkness because I couldn't be bothered to bring a firearm.
Obviously, food, shelter, clothing, water, and navigation are undeniably important and I have much to tell you about these things. For now however, I have to devote my full attention to the barely audible primal screech that has pierced the rhythmic step, silence, step, silence that has consumed the forest for the past 3 days... | 2015-10-25T10:16:39 | 2015-10-25T10:07:00 | 126 | 32 |
[WP] You crash land onto a planet where everyone is weak as hell and everything is made of soft material like cardboard and styrofoam etc. You, a regular person, are essentially their superhuman. | Day 28
I think I'm blending in. I never thought that being so careful would be so difficult. I have to tread lightly, literally, so I don't destroy their roads. Still can't believe that I'm here; that here exists. I've spent much of this first month homeless, but I got lucky today. Good things will follow. They must.
Day 32
Had to flee a store after I crushed an expensive appliance. I feel terrible but I don't have the money, and I know I don't want to explain myself. Nearly died when I was running away. Decided to try to jump for extra distance, and I almost broke through the upper atmosphere. Took me hours to get back to where I'm staying. Must be more careful. So much more careful.
Day 33
It's all over the news. Fuck. Of course it is. "Mysterious Man Destroys Property, Flies Away?" It's everywhere. I figured that there'd be a clean shot of my face, that I would've been identified by now. Apparently I was moving too fast for anyone to get a good look, so that's something. Is this going to be my whole life now? Hiding and running away?
Day 40
I want to go home. I miss my family. My life. Everything's just so fragile now. This world, it's people...me. I can't look in any direction without seeing something that reminds me of home. What's making me so lonely is that this place is so similar to Earth, and yet more different than anything I've ever known. It's such a strange dichotomy. Oh well. At least I finally slept through the night without destroying my bed. That was getting expensive. Tomorrow's a new day.
Day 45
I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. He died. I...killed him. Blood everywhere. I just wanted to stop him. He shot that lady, and I didn't want him to shoot her again. She was so afraid. I yelled at him and he looked. He looked right at me. He pointed the gun at me and I just lost it. Think he shot me, I'm not sure. He fired twice and I think I felt something, but I don't know. I just got so mad. Forgot about being careful. So many people saw. I didn't mean to kill him. I'm so scared. I don't belong here. Don't know what to do. I can't stay in this building, this city. Need to pack. Leave.
Day 47
Everything's wrong. This isn't how my life was supposed to be, lived out in a strange place among a strange people who are so fragile and don't even know it.
I could...jump into space. Be done with it all. I have as much up there as I do here. Nothing.
Day 50
Thought there'd be a manhunt. Thought they'd be looking for me. I was moving too fast for anyone to catch my face again. That guy was her husband and he'd been hurting her for a while. The authorities said what I did was brutal, but they didn't seem too sad he was gone. Doesn't make it right. Can't lose control like that ever again. Ever. I'll never forget his face. I wonder if she'll be alright.
Day 51
She lived. She was on the news for an interview. She said..."Thank you."
I saved her. I saved her. | "The stars flew past me like little cosmic pebbles as I helplessly careened through space, my escape pod destined to become my coffin.
In desperation, I tried to radio the mother ship, but to no avail. A faulty ship? Sabotage? A mistake on my part? Unfortunately, it looks like no one can say for sure, although it's starting to look like I'm going to put the "terminal" in terminal velocity.
In my little fugue, I think about how happy I am that I'm just going to crash into a small planet and die quickly, as opposed to suffocating or starving to death out in the blackness of space."
The children gaze at me, all spiffed up in my brillant space suit, sitting in a cul-de-sac taken out of time, all in fascination as I let loose a loud sneeze. The *human* children, I might add, on this definitely *alien* planet. One of their mothers, having just diligently delivered some full cans of *Coca-Cola* (alien planet, remember) watches vigilantly for any sign of trouble, but they were certainly more trusting than I was expecting. At least, I certainly know my mom would never let strange men near their children. Little things like that, in addition to the architecture that I've seen, as well as the clothes, really give off an "early 60's" vibe.
"Show us the trick again!" a little boy squeals. "Yeah!" pipe a few more.
It makes me feel like a badass, anyway. I glance at a freckled boy who looks like a little bit like the bully from "Recess," and in my most authoritative voice, "Hey, chuck your can in the air!"
As the can gains more height, I aim my glove at it and nail it directly with a laser beam, much to the awe of the children and shock of the mother. She grabs the arm of the Gelman look-a-like, and starts heading into what I presume is her house. Insulting, but I can understand.
A grunt from behind alerts me to the presence of the police behind me. He tells me that "they've" arrived, whoever that means. I figured my best bet as soon as I landed in this suburban paradise was to contact law enforcement, maybe that could give me a way out, or *something*. It wasn't very difficult to find someone, considering I crashed into someone's fence. I figured being proactive, as opposed to waiting the decades it could potentially take for my people to come back here, would be a much better use of my time. A very slick looking car stops next to us, the back door opened by a rather dapper young woman.
The passenger window rolled down slowly to reveal a man in his early 40's.
"Please," he starts, a grin going across his face, "we've got quite the tour for you..." | 2017-03-26T22:22:35 | 2017-03-26T17:32:20 | 51 | 34 |
[WP] Your boss has fired you. As a joke, you pull out a Uno Reverse card. To your surprise; it works. | I knew about the financial situation of the company for a while now. I was prepared for the inevitable wave of layoffs, applied for a few jobs, but no luck so far. So when the big day came, and my boss called me in to discuss the „new direction” the firm is about to take, I surely wasn't surprised. „You're fired, and we can't offer any severance pay either.” His voice was even, not a hint of regret in it. In a vain attempt to rebel against the impassionate corporate culture, I pulled out a little piece of paper: a Reverse card from UNO, and presented it to him. I was half expecting quiet dismissal, or anger, but his reaction was that of utter horror. As he sighed out a desperate „No!”, the papers he put in front of me changed slightly. My name morphed into his, and his signature on the 'employer' side crawled over to the 'employee' line. As I stared in disbelief, he slowly got up and started packing his things, shoulders sagged and shaking with silent sobs. My mind started racing: What did just happen? Do these cards work in real life? If they do, what other cards would have an effect? I spun on my heels and ran home, where I began furiously opening boxes of tabletop games – and I have a ton of those, believe me. Get out of the Jail Free cards, free money and property cards, I had them all, determined to test them. And then, my eyes fell on the single Magic: the Gathering deck I kept from my highschool years... | I looked up from my desk as he approached. The annoyed look in his eyes said all I needed to know; all I dreaded to hear.
I was going to be fired.
He was always one to get to the point. He looked at me over his steel rimmed glasses, and said curtly:
"You're fired. You have today to pack all your things, and leave."
I sighed. Somehow, I knew my career would end like this.
But if I was gonna go out, I wanted to go out in style.
A metaphorical light bulb went off in my head, as I recalled a meme I recently saw. Reaching into my purse, I pulled out the pack of Uno cards I owned, and finding a reverse card, I presented it to my boss.
He quirked an eyebrow, and to my immense disbelief, sighed.
"Alright," he grumbled. "You win. You're not fired. According to company policy, *I'm* fired. Goodbye."
He promptly left, not offering an explaination.
I watched his retreating form, as confusion took over my mind.
So, I wasn't fired. I sighed softly.
This was going to be interesting... | 2019-08-18T05:58:26 | 2019-08-18T04:02:15 | 78 | 11 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Hey Moose,
We had a good run. 16 years is good for a dog that somebody else starved in their back yard for a while.
You did really good. You remembered all those tricks somebody else taught you, showed the cats/birds love, and learned to stop being scared over food. You gave the best hugs on the planet.
I'm sorry that your last days hurt so much. We tried to work around your sickness best we could but it was too late when we figured out what was wrong.
I know you couldn't understand at the time but the other twin dogs were hurt just like you, but instead of missing food they never had love or anyone else. Thanks for trying to love them, too. They've gotten a lot better at nipping and trusting people over time.
That last year was really rough but the time the family had with you was beautiful...even though the " dog ate the sofa" story still makes the rounds at parties. Say hi to Herky, Xena, Scouty, Jazz, Ouma and the birds for me.
Thanks for that last smile.
Hanging in as always,
E. | Hey Scott.
I guess I took everything you did for granted. It's been really hard without you here. Your daughter still asks when you're coming to pick her up and she always gets sad when I explain to her that you can't.
She really loves you and you were a good father. She started listening to one of the books you recorded. Hearing your voice always makes her so happy. She follows along in the book like you remind her to every chapter. It's hard. I burst into tears when I heard you sound out a word you knew she'd have trouble with.
We miss you. I hope where ever you are you're not in pain anymore. | 2017-11-06T00:29:00 | 2017-11-05T23:19:05 | 235 | 58 |
[WP] The demon stands amid your destroyed kitchen screaming, “How? How were you able to summon me?!” You’re standing in the corner flipping through your grandma’s cookbook as fast as you can, screaming back, “I don’t know!! You were supposed to be chicken soup!” | "Oregen-Thanto?"
"Do you fucking mean oregano?" The large reddish beast was standing across from me with his arms tightly folded and chin butting out. "Are you listening to me you mororn? The jackass who can't read to save his life. What the hell have you done?"
I think he was mad. I, on the other hand, was confused. "Um, big red sir. No offense, but you kind of burst into *my kitchen*, and I think I need an explanation more than you do... sir." I didn't like him, he was scary. He got even scarier when he heard that though, his eyebrows raised and he started to inch closer to me.
"This has to be a fucking joke. I can't believe this. I would say God damn you if that wouldn't bring you right back to me."
I think he thought I was sarcastic about my question, I really did want to know though. He seemed too angry for me to ask him again, so I had to think of a way to calm him. "Well if you're going to stay... Want some Lassen-tau that I made yesterday?"
"...Do ...Do you mean lasagne?"
"That how you pronounce it!"
"Jesus fucking christ this can't be right."
"Man I knew I was mispronouncing it, just doubted myself ya kn-" The devilish creature suddenly grabbed me by my collar and screamed right in my face.
"Do you have any idea what you just done!? You bumbling fool you've doomed us all! You cannot control this power..." Now I was really confused.
"What do you mean?" I squeaked out as he slowly put me down.
"Those words you said when I appeared, they were very important words."
"My cookbook?"
"No, you imbecile! No one salts their pork stew while summoning satan himself to their will!"
"Y-you're satan?" Okay I know I said I was confused earlier, but this really confused me. "Then what does all this mean?"
He let out a faint sigh, "Under the bindings of the ancient texts, and the governing of the very universe itself, I am bound to your will for the entirety of a day starting now. My power is your power, you will mine."
"Uh... thanks." How the fuck was I supposed to reply to that? "Not that I'm insulting you or anything Mr. Satan, but why do you have to do this... like... Can't you just like... kill me?"
"When I left heaven and declared myself separate from that tyrant, the universe had a price. That price was supposed to be the most well-kept secret in the universe... and you fucking stumbled into it... I am yours until tomorrow."
I panicked, I can't hang out with regular people for more than ten minutes, then all of a sudden I got literal satan stuck to me for 24 hours. So I did what I always do when I panic, I talked about my oven, "Uh... So... I guess if you're staying, wanna help me finish up this recipe? The book calls for a tablespoon of butter and a dash of papr-... pari-*ca*... Oh, shoot that's not how you say it, papica? No!" Satan was just watching me argue with myself over spices, I think he was regretting leaving heaven right then. "It's palica! No, Prapri-Rica!" All of a sudden the ground started shaking and thunder echoed above. Satan glanced at the sky then quickly back at me.
"What the hell did you do?" Then a large octopus-like being tore open the top of the house and yelled down at us.
"**Mortals! You have summoned me! The might and bo-"**
Satan interrupted him, "Ctuthulu! You summoned fucking Cuthulu trying to say paprika? Fuck it, he can have you. I'm done." | In hindsight, singing that latin nursery rhyme while playing around with various herbs was probably not the best idea. To be fair, one could be understood for not expecting to summon a demon while making chicken soup. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what you had, apparently, just done.
The demon stands amid your destroyed kitchen screaming, “How? How were you able to summon me?!” You’re standing in the corner flipping through your grandma’s cookbook as fast as you can, screaming back, “I don’t know!! You were supposed to be chicken soup!”
“That’s not how things work!” it shouts back “You don’t accidentally summon a demon!”
“Yeah? Well? You don’t accidentally end up studying medicine and here I am, second year med student! I have a spectacular talent for ending up doing things I don’t intend, successfully!” which if you’re honest has been a rather frustrating aspect of your life. Things which you put genuine effort in never seem to succeed, and yet, you ended up in med school on a dare.
At this the demon seems to calm down a tad, just a tad though, flames are still spontaneously spitting up in the kitchen around the two of you.
“Accidentally studying medicine you say? How, exactly, does one ‘accidentally’ study one of the most challenging fields in the Human world?” it says rather scathingly.
Desperate to keep this burning hole in reality in your kitchen placated, you answer, perhaps to swiftly as you tumble the words out of your mouth. “Senior year, some of my friends, wait no, the end of Junior year - no, definitely senior year - one of my friends dared me to send an application to a pre med program, I had the grades for it, so I just did it” you say.
Getting even calmer, perhaps even speculative now, it asks “And, so, you just went with this option instead of, what I’m assuming were several similar possibilities?”
Feeling slightly judged by a being of chaos you rather pugnacious say something along the lines of “yeah so?” but you don’t really remember because the flaming non-being in your kitchen didn’t seem to take kindly to this kind of backtalk and did something that just, warped the world. Now suddenly on the floor and, why was your face wet? Oh right, crying will do that.
It looks down on you with a smirk and states with a malicious pleasantry, “Well, since you summoned me and I can’t go back without doing something, it would be bad for business you know, I have this delicious idea.” It seems to find itself quite amusing for it seems to have an anthropomorphic face now and there are some definite teeth present.
With a sinking feeling in your gut you can’t help but indulge the clear invitation, “What is it?” you ask.
“I curse you,” Its truly grinning now, and it kinda hurts to look at “With the luck only the damned have.” Here it pauses rather dramatically to sprout an arm from its dark mass and fondle a flame on its shoulder. “You will succeed at nothing you intentionally try to succeed at, however you will succeed at random things, in essence you will be a minor agent of chaos in the plans others have for this world.” and with a final truly humor filled laugh, it fades from your kitchen. However just as the last of the not-light-but-not-really-there-shadow fades you seem to hear “wait until asmodeus hears this.” | 2020-04-16T23:27:57 | 2020-04-16T17:39:01 | 993 | 256 |
[WP] The rules of who goes to heaven and hell are clear, definite, and inarguable. You are an afterlife lawyer, who helps people figure out if their potentially sinful plans are technically allowed by the rules. | Day 32278, Trial of Mr. Borer Before His Holiness. Proceeding Number: MMMCMXXXVMMMCDLXXXIV. Plateau of Judgement
* * *
GOD: Thank you prosecution, for the excessive and very detailed list of accusations against Mr. Borer. We had nothing else to do and had eternity to listen to them. Will the defense proceed? Mr. Borer, what say you?
MR. JUSTICE LOVEGOOD: We will proceed gladly, Your honor.
MR. JUSTICE LOVEGOOD: Mr. Borer, you are perhaps aware that you are the only mortal man who can expound to us the true purposes of your actions?
MR. LANCEL BORER: I am perfectly aware of that.
MR. JUSTICE LOVEGOOD: You, from the very beginning, together with those who were associated with you, intended to harm and later murder innocents?
MR. LANCEL BORER: That was, as far as I am concerned, my firm intention.
MR. JUSTICE LOVEGOOD: And, upon coming to knowledge that law enforcement of your county was inadequate, you immediately started serial killings?
MR. LANCEL BORER: I found it to be no longer necessary to make due with harming people or one murder every year. Also I should like to emphasize the fact that I was moreover the best serial killer of my time period. But you are correct when you say that the law enforcement was...inadequate.
MR. JUSTICE LOVEGOOD: You established a cult, under your strict authority, which you have described as a *death cult* looking only for the absolute innocents; is that correct?
MR. LANCEL BORER: In order to avoid any misunderstanding, I should like once more to explain the idea briefly. The cult was formed to purge only the innocents. We didn't look at you if you received even a parking ticket. I however, did not discriminate.
MR. JUSTICE LOVEGOOD: In other words, you believed in innocence of the soul in your community project, is that correct.
MR. LANCEL BORER: Quite right.
MR. JUSTICE LOVEGOOD: Also you say *purged* out of humility for your kind actions but you only selected the innocents because you could not bear for them to live in a harsh, doomed world.
MR. LANCEL BORER: ...Of course.
GOD: Mr. Lovegood, a mortal has no right to end a life even if they see their situations as dire.
MR. JUSTICE LOVEGOOD: Certainly your honor, however, the intentions were out of pure love and kindness. Just like many great leaders of our past who did so in your name. Is the planet not doomed, is the end not upon humanity? None have a bright future to look up to.
MR. JUSTICE LOVEGOOD: He has selectively chosen and helped many poor souls with a dark future to your side but he felt no joy doing these. Only his duty to you. Additionally, he has recruited many to do this grim but beautiful task. Almost like a big family I would say.
GOD: Was this your intention Mr. Borer.
MR. LANCEL BORER: ...Exactly as Mr. Lovegood stated.
GOD: Explain your *private endeavours* then, Mr. Borer.
MR. LANCEL BORER: ...
MR. JUSTICE LOVEGOOD: Gladly. You see, these were times where he experimented on how best to spread the love and kindness he did as the family I described previously. Exactly like a scientist, he endeavoured with such humility to find the proper tools and methods not even speaking about them to anyone. And like scientists, trials were not always a success and there were some unfortunate mistakes made, which he is extremely sad about even to this day, Is that not so Mr. Borer.
MR. LANCEL BORER: ...Yes.
GOD: Are you done Mr. Lovegood?
MR. JUSTICE LOVEGOOD: Not even remotely. My client is practically a saint and I would like to exonerate my client from any wrongful accusations he may face.
GOD: Thank you but this will be enough Mr. Lovegood.
MR. JUSTICE LOVEGOOD: But your honor...
GOD: ***SILENCE!*** Mr Borer, your actions in life were atrocious. You deserve eternity of torment. Yet you did indeed feel no joy from your actions. Due to your undiscovered psychopathic tendencies being only partially yours to blame and the minuscule chance that Mr. Lovegoods' points are to be true I hereby sentence you to 656 years of Hell. 1 Earth year for every soul you or your *family* took, half a year for those you tormented. Upon end of your sentence, you will be allowed in to heaven. ***DISMISSED***
* * *
*I enjoy writing short prompts. If you are curious for more:* [r/spider_elephant](https://www.reddit.com/r/spider_elephant/) | "Mr. Mussolini, wasn't it"
I say to an italian looking man, in his 40s, i think.
He's sitting in a chair, from which he couldn't stand; in a room which only has another chair, non-modified and a table. No other visible entrances and exits appear to exist.
"Yes, and who might you be?" He asks in a menacing tone, most people would have cowered in terror, but iv'e been in this business too long to befall of this old trick
"None of your business, mind you" i reply in a monotone voice "Now, it appears, in your childhood, you have lied, stolen and murdered, as well as causing various riots for an unjust reason" to which he replied "yes, how do you know of such things?"
I dismiss his question, barely holding in a smile, he doesn't know where he is, hell , he doesnt even know he's not voluntarily answering.
Yes, he answers after a whilr "but i have confessed to a priest and he has told me God forgives me"
"-And right after that, you changed to atheism"
"Well i wanted to leave a chance to be forgiven if i was wrong about my faith"
"So you say, so you say, now it appears that in your lifetime you have seized a peaceful country, italy, to be precise, and helped wage the seccond world war which has caused many atrocities, But you claim it is only to unite all nations and make a new world"
"Of course, it has been my dream. Sure i want some power on the side, but who doesnt. Speaking of power, who told you you could interrogate me."
"So you are sure you did no mortal sin before your death"
"Yes"
I take off my shades, stare at him and say " Mr. Mussolini, you are here to be examined, both in conscience and in action, before the Lord himself will pass judgement to you. I am your designated afterlife lawyer, tasked to check for obvious mortal sins. If you are ready to be judged, open the drawer, grab the jack-in-the-box, and wind it backwards 3 turns."
He grabs the drawer handle immediately. Who knew someone could be this excited to be judged?
All of a sudden, the walls open up like a cube, and the Lord God himself appears. "He has passed your judgement, i see."
"Yes, my lord, i had a very good reason to bring him"
God shrugs(waiwha) and i vaguely notice human like shapes appearing. Slightly disconcerned i continue
"Lord, i can confirm that he has confessed his mortal sins before causing World war two"
God sighs "But he caused world war two nonetheless, name a reason that i should continue listening"
"Remember genesis, even though Cain (in an earlier edit i wrote judas wow) murdered his brother, you left him with his life and a curse for anyone that crosses him and his offspring"
(After this i am just going to write in script format cause i find it easier)
God:" That was one murder, this is thousands"
Me:"It was for the Coprosperity sphere, which was not his idea to begin with. it still was to unite the world, not his fault the countries didn't accept and retaliated"
God:"But thats the point, FORCE was involved
Me:"in 1 kings, you didnt complain when David used force"
God:"..... touché, One last angle you need to explain though"
Mussolini:"Can i take part of thi-"
Me"Shut it! , moving on, religion should never be a probelm since in revalation , it states it wouldnt matter anyway because it only boils down to whether the souls accept you or not"
(Awkward silence while God decides his faith)
God:".....it is now time that i pass judgement, Benito Mussolini, i hereby declare you-
(Dear reader, at first post i didnt have the guts to write this but now i think it fits for God to say-)
Allowed through the gates of heaven, after staying 2
(ERR0R: TRANSLATION EXISTENCE MATCHES ASH'S HITBOX, SKIPPING 0.25s OF TEXT) of time in purgatory.
God: Afterlife lawyer __________, this trial has been planned to test if you have been a true and lawful lawyer. The results speak for themselves, well done.
Me: thank you.
God: i hereby adjourn this judgement. | 2018-11-30T06:25:36 | 2018-11-30T04:52:23 | 123 | 81 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip. | It was these sort of women that he hated the most. The ones that would cling to their tainted children with screams and fits of rage. Didn't they understand? Didn't they realize that the world had to be clean?
It'd been many years since he'd realized the truth about the Blackness. One day, The Doctor has pricked himself during an operation and found a jet black tar, so thick that it never managed to escape from the shallow wound. He'd always been a good man, always helping the needy, operating on the dying, the homeless, those who nobody else would risk their careers on. He'd gone to church, worshiped God, refrained from alcohol and cursing, and still, his blood was filled with Blackness. It was then that he realized: the blood must tell the future. It not only darkened and thickened with each impurity, but it also knew the state of your future deeds. Somehow, the Blackness must be able to judge the soul and see what it was capable of.
With that realization came a new purpose. If one day he would be the Blackest of all devils, then he would dedicate the rest of his life until that moment to purify every stain that he could find. Every drop of Blackness would be cleansed from the world in order to balance his own future sin. It was with this knowledge and vision that The Doctor started his research. After a painstakingly long trial, he found that indeed, the blood could predict a person's purity in their later life. With this, he proposed a new program that could eradicate the Blackness before it ever grew into action. Every child would be pricked at thirteen, as before thirteen they were judged to be well under their parents control. Those whose blood was Black would be taken away from their parents and eliminated from society in order to prevent the evil they would inevitably bring into the world.
Whatever the evil he might one day do, The Doctor hoped that his life's work spent in the elimination of all the Tainted would help to balance the scales. Every day, without fail, he would prick him self again in order to remind himself of his purpose. Every day, without fail, the blood would stand within the cut, Blacker than the darkest night and thicker than the Jello that all his patients received. Every day, without fail, it reminded him that time was running short. One day, he would become evil. Before then, he had to cleanse as much evil from the world as he could. And so, so many of the evil ones were left.
Edit: Woah. So that's why people post things on reddit so much. Dang those upvotes feel nice inside haha. For those asking: I had what I thought was a fun idea so I wrote it out in a rather rough sort of way, no idea if it's actually like any of the animes/shows listed below that I haven't watched and I'm glad y'all enjoyed it too :). | It was black. She stares at her fingertip in- no, not surprise, resignation - for half a second before she realises she should hide it. She wraps it quickly in her half-knit hat. “Oh, shoot,” she says, rising from her seat and smiling at the other do-gooders around her.
She walks away, trying not to rush too hard, hoping the way she clutches the hat to her hand seems like she’s applying pressure and not clinging on for her sanity- her safety.
As soon as she is locked in the security of the toilet, she eases the now ruined hat off her finger. “Fuck,” she hisses. “Fuck, shit, fuck.” Each forbidden curse feels freeing - after all, there’s no point not to, right? Her blood is so thick it looks almost as though it’s clotted already.
It’s not fair.
She grits her teeth, grips the sink so hard it feels like the bones in her fingers should shatter from the pressure.
It isn’t.
*Fucking*.
Fair.
She learned the lesson. Her mother had scraped her knee and hadn’t worried enough to hide it. She’d been arrested that same night - preventative measures.
Laura had *learned*. She’d done everything right. She’d fought her anger, her despair, the feeling that this was so unjust, and she’d been perfect. No one could do more good than her. And still, it wasn’t enough. She hadn’t done enough.
Was it in her blood? Transmitted from her mother to her? Was it completely out of her control?
Or was it actually still her? Her motivations were all wrong. She wasn’t doing good to be good - she was doing it so they wouldn’t think she was bad.
She pulls her hands away from the sink before any more damage is done. She can’t be reckless.
Don’t actions count more? She can hardly be the only person who’s afraid of being bad. Just because she isn’t *good* doesn’t mean she’s this evil. Surely it can’t mean that.
Her fingernails dig into her palm, and she can feel thick, viscous fluid beneath them. She almost gags.
There’s nothing to do but fake it. Continue faking it the same way she always has. She has to hide. | 2018-08-04T10:46:53 | 2018-08-04T10:14:27 | 3,279 | 134 |
[WP]Humanity's last act of defiance against a more advanced and powerful alien race. | Old one eye, still had a few tricks up his sleeve. He had waited centuries, he could wait a few more days...
The first inhabitants to colonize the blue planet, were utterly baffled by the lack of survivors. There was nothing there to indicate where the humans had gone, no resistance, simply an absence.
After a time, they had become complacent, and grew fat living off the land they had conquered. Until one day, they had grown to several billion inhabitants, filling almost every nook and cranny of the planet.
Then the rains came, massive storm clouds, threatening to deluge the entire planet. Gale force winds, threatened to topple the alien edifices, and centuries old monuments creaked and groaned. Awe soon turned to horror, however, as the rain and winds worked their magic. Wherever the rain hit, or the winds blew, blue skin turned pink. Three eyes, were replaced by two.
Odin, the AI of Old Earth, had been carefully waiting. Waiting for the time, when he could release the nano tech, that had carefully stored the entirety of the human race. The nano tech, that was at this very moment, rewriting the DNA of these alien invaders. | The worst part wasnt the wholesale destruction or massive loss of life, it was the powerlessness.
Leaping out of quantum subspace on the edge of our atmosphere they proceeded to talk to us in English saying surrender and enslavement was the only option.
Then, when we hesitated to long, they released several viruses. Ebola, smallpox and typhoid, all mutated to become deadly unstoppable plagues.
Whatever they were, they had done their research.
Now we face their diplomatic craft, having faked our surrender in hopes of taking at least one of the bastards with us.
But as the doors opened our kamikaze resolve dies in a flash.
For you see, the invaders were us | 2014-08-08T11:30:34 | 2014-08-08T10:10:29 | 38 | 21 |
[WP] You are an average Joe who is challenged by a random super hero every week. Your record is 337-0. | "and done" I mumbled and hit the enter key sending a Craigslist advertising that I was looking for new friends.
Sure most of the guys answering my request would be total jerks or loosers, but that really didn't bother me to much. In the end they would not be my friends for long.
It all started a few years ago, my son was 1 and the wife threw a temper tantrum that I had forgotten to get diapers that day.
So I got in the car once I finished work and drove up to my local Walmart to get some and hopefully not spend the night on the couch.
Anyways the parking lot was full and I was desperate, so instead of waiting for a lot to clear, I just parked my car in front of another one. What could go wrong? Am I right? I'd be in and out before the poor fellow I'd parked in would even know, right?
Oh boy...
The dude I blocked was no one else but Rage-Man, strongest hero in the world and, you might have guessed, not a man know for his patience.
He got out before me and when he saw what I did, he threw my car 6 yards further and left a message that he would kill me.
Overreacting much, you say?
See the thing is we got quite a few superheroes, but because of the same reason we have zero supervillains and even petty crime is on an all-time low as everyone has to face a bored hero looking for a way to make it in the news.
Anyhow, I shit my pants of course and hid in the house for 3 full days, but nothing happened.
Than I got a call from one of my friends, Rage-Man did just visit him, he did rip my friends heart out and made him tell me that he was after me.
Well it turned out, a simple Google search, revealed Rage-Man's weakspot, ordinary coal, I brought a peace along and once I displayed it to him, he lost his power and I beat him to death with a crowbar from my car.
Of course all wannabe heroes out there declared me their new supervillain. And so the cycle began.
This was also the moment I realized that there is a protocol every hero has to follow. They have to get my henchmen first and since I don't have any henchmen they just go after my friends.
At the same time every hero has to have a a weakness and being the vain cocks they are, you can learn all about them by a short visit on Wikipedia.
So all I had to do was sacrifice my friends and colleagues and as soon as they announced to me who they were Google their weaknesses and bring a gun with me.
You won't believe it, but that really worked 337 times so far, the only problem is that I run out of potential friends. I'm already a member of every club in town and regular in every bar. So instead I went online, so yeah, need a friend? 😂😉" | "Fight!" The announcer shouted.
I waited as he rushed towards me, sword bared and gave a war cry. I waited as he rushed me, standing absolutely still, and then at the last possible moment I ducked under his golden sword and came up behind him. I moved to strike his back with my fist, but he brought up his shield and I did no damage.
This time he brought down is flaming sword in a downward arc, in a completely idiotic move. The recovery time for a move like that is ridiculous, plus, it was simple enough to avoid.
I simply stepped to the right and death whizzed inches to my right. The swordsman however had put all his weight behind the attack and stumbled forward for a brief moment.
A moment is all you need in a fight.
I slammed the back of my fist into his back and he flew forward in the arena. As he struggled to get up, I slide and kicked him from below, sending the swordsman flying upwards. I followed up with a short hop and my fist held upwards, and got the swordsman in the small of the back.
I landed gracefully on my feet and the swordsman thudded onto the ground a few feet away.
"Flawless Victory!" The announcer shouted.
The super-hero, whoever she was (after 340 wins they all began to blur) threw down her controller. "That was bullshit! I want a rematch!"
Wow they were really sending me the bottom of the barrel with these guys. Like, I why they would want to test their mettle against me, but come on. With skills like that she must've known she wouldn't stand a chance. "GG no re," I taunted.
This seemed to be the wrong thing to say, as a terrible golden aura began to gather around her, and her started to float and surround her head like a halo.
As I began to think my win-streak was going to end, but not to a loss, she seemed to take a deep breath and calm down. "Sorry," she muttered, the bright gold aura fading around her, and her long blond hair settling back down on her shoulders.
I had several snappy comebacks ready but decided this wouldn't be a wise time to say them. Archie, platinum level gamer and master of diplomacy, that's me.
***
If you enjoyed, check out my new subreddit [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) | 2016-11-19T15:46:20 | 2016-11-19T14:57:30 | 72 | 39 |
[WP] Pick an event/story with an untold point of view (the guy who threw the shoe at George Bush, the bat on the space shuttle, etc). Then tell that character's story without giving away what the event is until the end. | My heart raced as I heard the terrified screams of people behind me, trying to comprehend scene that was unfolding before their eyes. The sound of it sent adrenaline rushing through my veins as I myself tried to come to terms with the situation. Many people bowed their heads in prayer, others resorted to hysterical screaming, and some were determined to fight back. I knew there was no fighting this; we were beyond the point of no return, all there was left to do was accept our fate and pray we had made the right decisions in what little time we had on earth.
I am a man of faith and believe that our actions in this life determine our place in the next. I have spent my whole life in the pursuit of something greater than myself, longing to be a part of something that can make a difference in the world. My best friend and mentor always told me things will never change on their own, that if we want to see a change in the world then it is our duty to do something to change it. There will always be evil in the world but we have the ability to reduce it one action at a time. I have taken these words to heart and have lived my life by them.
My heartbeat began to steady as I thought back to my old friend and a soothing calm slowly swept over me. I am staring into the face of death and there is no escape, but I made my peace with the thought of death long ago. My life has been lived dedicated to my religion and I know that I will receive great reward in the next life. I only hope that the action I am taking today will rid the world of a little more evil. My hands grasped tight onto the control wheel of the 767 as the building grew ever larger in cockpit window.
| For many years I thought about her. It was strange, this interest, this obsession, right from the first day I saw her, right after she got out of the train. I didn't know her name, where she was from, never talked to her about her interests, never talked to her at all. I couldn't. She was one of "them".
No, I couldn't satisfy my curiosity about her. That would be foolish. But I couldn't stop myself from looking at her, checking if everything was alright with her.
One day many of them were chosen to leave. I only knew minutes before. She was among the chosen. If only I had gained courage to follow my heart one day earlier! But now was too late. I never saw her again, apart from my thoughts and dreams. And nightmares. But I still couldn't tell her name.
That is, until now.
A fortunate sequence of events made me aware of her name. And of her fate. I was devastated. Again, if only I had gained courage one day, one single day before!
But things are what they are. I can't do anything now but remember her. Remember the girl of my dreams. Remember Anne Frank. | 2015-03-16T14:20:15 | 2015-03-16T12:51:09 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] One night, something grabs your hand as it hangs off the edge of the bed. You give it a firm handshake. "You're hired," it whispers. | The young man shook in fear, succumbing to reality at an extensive rate.
"Who's there?! Who said that?!" he yelled at the top of his lungs whilst parading out of his bed. He tripped over his slippers as he walked towards the light-switch and felt a bump to the chin, he lifted himself up and urged himself to complete his mission.
No longer surrounded by darkness, the light lit the room, but with no one to be seen except himself.
"I must be having those crazy dreams again. I really need to start recording my room at night."
He moved his hand up to the light-switch and pressed his finger lightly against it, slowly turning it from on, to off. As soon as the light dipped out, a black-draped figure appeared in-front of him and lit a crooked smile, a smile of which presented little teeth.
"You're coming with me." was all that was picked up by the young man's ears.
Suddenly, he was surrounded by darkness. He tried to open his eyes, but that was all it was, dark. Engulfed by the night of this sudden inky blackness.
He blinked, and with it, he saw color. The color red.
Fire lit the distance, flames hindered the many dark, tall buildings now surrounding him.
"This world is sadly dying. I heard your call, and thank you for the sentiment. It is now your job to be the Guardian of the Underworld. My time is up, the rule-book is in the cabinet. Good luck."
With these words, the black-draped figure disappeared and left the young man by himself, to suffer for all eternity as the Guardian of the Underworld.
He entered his new home, which was coincidentally where he was teleported to and ventured to the cabinet he had been told about, took the rule book and began to read.
> Rule A: The only chance of returning to the human world, is if someone dreams of being what you are.
| Pain seared through your chest as you stirred in a bed. Your body felt like it was set on fire and sweat trickled down your forehead. You lay limp, trying to focus on your surroundings when you felt something grab your hand.
"You're hired," it whispered. Its voice was soft yet strong and for some reason you calmed down, you felt as if you could trust it. You felt something jumping onto the bed and heard a soft rumble. Then, fires licked your wounded body and you wanted to thrash and flee from the pain it inflicted on you. But as soon as it started, the pain disappeared, replaced by a cooling sensation where your wounds once were.
You opened your eyes that were previously clenched in an attempt to relief the unbearable pain you had felt moments before. Your sight returned to you as the dark fog retreated from your view. Beside you, on the bed, you see a small yet magnificent sight.
Although highly weakened, the dragon infront of you hasnt lost a tinge of regal in the way she holds herself. As you stared at her, she turned in a circle and transformed into a 19 year old girl with flawless skin and long blonde hair. She wears a blue gown that trails on the floor and sparkles like a blue gem. And her eyes, a captivating cool blue hue.
"You're hired," she repeated. "If you protect me and never betray me, I'll find ways to cure your sickness." | 2017-04-29T04:54:06 | 2017-04-29T02:46:57 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | Dear Dad,
I'm pretty sure you think Mom is my hero. She stayed at home with us until high school, attended all the sports practices, school performances, made all the lunches...and of course I love her, for all that and more, but I'd like to tell you that you have always been my hero.
Some might say that it's just because of supply and demand; you were in short supply growing up, so the demand was high. But that just wouldn't cover it. There is a connection of spirit between us that I just don't have with Mom.
Sometimes when we play cards we start to get a little competitive, and by that I mean that you become a horrendous asshole with a horseshoe so far up your ass you must taste steel! The curse words start flying as the stakes get higher but the twinkle in your eye matches the one in mine. Meanwhile, Mom is in the other room hollering at us to "play nice," never seeing that the anger is all in good fun.
But I guess it really comes down to that day. You know the one. We waited for the ambulance for 45 minutes, and that whole time you did your best to breathe life back into my brother, your son. How you managed to keep it together that long, I will never know. You even drove us all to the hospital behind the ambulance. It seemed like an inhuman feat to me. Superman himself could not have kept it between the lines on that drive.
It's been a decade, and do you know what amazes me most? That twinkle in your eye that matches mine has never disappeared. You never let your grief drown out your joy. You face each day still open to all of what life has to offer. Grief is still a constant visitor, but you set the example of how to invite it in with open arms, to acknowledge that it is part of our lives without it being a menace that must be locked out. By opening the doors easily you help to let in all the other emotions so that life is still whole.
I don't know what I would do without you. You set the example of how to live life and face its challenges with courage and humanity.
Thank-you. | Hey cous,
It's been what 2 years now? Almost 3? Ahaha. I hope you're happy where ever you ended up. I miss you and the family misses you. I wish you could see how big the kids have gotten. Not to brag or anything but I'm the favorite uncle, ahaha. Though... I don't think I could top how much love and genuine affection you've shown them when you were here. I don't know how to say some of the things I've been holding onto or even what to say. I've never been good with expressing myself. I can't even words sometimes, most of the times. :P
Anyways,
I'm sorry for how things went down aye. It was a total shit show when you left but I tried. I tried keeping everyone together, I really did. It wasn't the greatest send off and there were so many things I wanted to do "right" but life. I know how watching everyone act the way they did must have broken your heart but we both know they're all good people. They just don't know how to act sometimes ahaha, old country aye? Your brothers miss you and, as much as you two argued, so does your sister. Your mom and dad are well, they're still batshit crazy ahaha and so are the rest of the oldies.
To be honest though, I'm still coping.
I was always taking care of all of us when we were younger, *sigh* remember the fights I would get into because of you brats? Those really were good times... Anyways, I'm gonna go now. I've written this with nowhere to send it.
Miss you forever, J.I | 2015-12-05T15:05:05 | 2015-12-05T13:45:57 | 59 | 15 |
[WP] Mankind went extinct in a cataclysm, you, however, discover that you're immortal as a result. ages later you are approached by the animals that evolved to have human-level intelligence. | The elders spoke of it in whispers. The young ones told each other tales of it to scare one another around the night-time fires.
It lived deep within the last valley. They said it was as tall as two of us standing one atop of each other. Its face was blunt and short, its teeth dull and close together, not long and spaced like ours. It had hair only on its head and face, but little on its body. It was strong enough to cut down trees. It went through the world indifferent to most, but it could smash skulls and break bones in its terrible anger with any creature that was foolish enough to offer it violence.
Some called it a hate from old times. Others called it the last of the old gods.
What it was, was different. It didn’t live like us. It didn’t talk like us. But it understood our language. The wisest among us could understand some words of its language. Its hands were larger than ours, strong like stone, though it had no claws. It made and used things the elders called “tools”.
We didn’t understand.
Sometimes, it made tools that hurt, tools that could kill. The elders whispered a word in secret for these, like they were a curse. They called them “weapons”.
Sometimes, when young ones were born lame or sick, their mothers would beg and the elders would take their young into the last valley, rather than wait for them to pass. Sometimes, they would return, wiser... different... changed by their experience. They became our shaman.
At some point, the bravest of us would all ask the shaman to tell us what the creature in the last valley was called. They all would say the same thing. “It is called the past, the last of its kind.” So we would ask by what name to call the creature in the last valley.
And they would all say the same thing: “Master.” | Time is a funny thing.
When you're 5, a year seems like an eternity.
When you are my age, a year is barely a blink of an eye.
Between the droughts, the wars, or the plagues that finally ended humanity, I was completely alone.
Having been reserved before everything happened, I decided to recreate the garden of Eden. Knowing that I was immortal, I could easily breed plants as I pleased, turning what was once 100 acres of corn into a field of fruits and vegetables.
Before this, I decided to travel the world for about 50 years, collecting all sorts of artefacts that would be sure to last until whatever species decided to rise to prominence, carving important items into stone, such as a double helix, constellations, and a model of a heliocentric solar system. After I finished this, I retired to a country home and worked on creating my garden on Eden.
I simply watched as evolution took its course. It seemed that a lot of the local wildlife such as wolves, deer, and the like became more intelligent, and they slowly went from quadruped to bipedal. Apparently it was easier to repurpose front limbs than grow two more.
This development continued over the course of millions of years. They went from primitive to much like that of the Native Americans, though they developed even beyond that.
I stood along the sidelines, gradually learning their language. But I knew I couldn't stay hidden forever, so it was better to come out sooner than later.
It was a cool autumn day as I decided to walk into a small city and up to a wolf outside a temple of sort.
| 2018-02-22T19:06:04 | 2018-02-22T17:26:29 | 172 | 60 |
[WP] Soul mate's exist. One day while showering, you're teleported in a cloud of smoke to another world. You appear before a dark queen who declares her spell worked and you, her soulmate, is finally here | All in all, I wasn’t too fond of the whole ‘soulmate’ thing.
Don’t get me wrong, I was of course happy for anyone who had found their Perfect Person™, but I was introduced to the moral discussion of it at a way too young age and it kind of shaped the way I felt about things. Not enough to get involved with any of the - numerous - political groups lobbying for change one way or the other, but enough to never bother trying to find mine.
At the same time, whoever my soulmate were, they were probably going to be fine with my stance on things. Or maybe they, too, weren’t interested in looking and we’d never end up meeting.
Look, I’m just not really into the concept that I should somehow be contractually obligated to love a person just because I was born with… Whatever it is that decides these things. Half their soul, or whatever.
I didn’t exactly get A’s in my religion classes.
People mostly felt sorry for me, and I guess I let them; with technology came much greater odds at finding your soulmate, and thus I was part of a minority to be pushing my 30’s and still be single. I gave up on explaining it a few years earlier, and just let people assume the worst. Usually something would be keeping you from seeing them, most notably death (at least since most countries started to abolish their various segregation laws. Things like race, gender, imprisonment, you know) and I was growing tired of the outraged discussion that came after telling them I wasn’t looking.
Yes, it was a personal choice. No, I’m not religious. No, I haven’t been force fed propaganda. No, I wasn’t abused as a child. I was also definitely not abused by my soulmate, due to never having met them. Yes, I’m pretty sure about that. Were you even listening?
I was fine living my life the way it was. And my other half, wherever he or she may be, was probably fine doing the same. Which is why I wasn’t exactly expecting to pop out of existence for a few seconds in the middle of a shower.
Well, one of a few reasons why.
When I popped back into reality, I was stood on a hard, cold marble floor, with a feeling like I’d just lost a couple of kilos. I was blinking confusedly, trying to get used to the dim lighting, when a loud voice broke through the silence.
“It worked! It finally worked!” I looked around me and finally noticed a woman, dressed in a black gown and with a skin colour that definitely couldn’t be a healthy shade of red. She was smiling, her black eyes filled with unfiltered joy.
“What?” Was all I could manage, not being able to comprehend what was going on.
“It worked! You’re here!” I blinked once and she shook her head slightly, slower than most people on account of the two large horns attached to her head. “I’m sorry, I’m still a bit in shock. I’ve been trying to get the spell right for years, but this time it worked, and I managed to transport you to my plane of existence.” She paused for a moment, smile widening, “you’re my soulmate.”
I moved to turn to her, but my soapy feet failed on the slick surface on the floor and I ungracefully flailed into a heap on the ground in a fall that hurt way less than it should have. “What?”
She moved hurriedly to my side, her brow furrowed as she knelt by my side. “I’m sorry, I should have made sure you were stable-“
“Is the gravity lighter?” I asked, interrupting her.
“Yes, my love, I think it is lighter than you’re used to.” She laid one of her cool hands on my face and I suddenly realised I was very, very cold, wet and naked. I quickly shielded my more intimate parts and made an embarrassed sound, to which she replied with a laugh. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you some clothes as soon as you can stand up again. But there’s also no need to be shy, after all.”
She smiled coyly at me and I could only blink. I made another realisation about my surroundings as I caught eye on the window and the very black sun on the sky outside. Not just a dimly lit room, then. “Well, this is an unpleasant start to my day.” Her eyebrows rose and I started to stammer, not willing to upset the powerful being that had just teleported me to another dimension, “not you, the you part is lovely, obviously. Soulmates? Nice, I can’t say I expected otherwise, I like the horns- unless that is a rude thing to say, in which case forget it- never mind, it’s nice to meet you, I was just kind of not anticipating lying naked on a floor the first time we met, not that I don’t want to be naked around you, it’s just more of a third date thing, you know?” I paused for a second, “… do you know what that means? It’s a joke from- well, from where I’m from—“
“My soulmate is an idiot” she said, exasperated but undeniably fondly. “I bend space-time to my will and this is the response I get. Come on, let’s get some clothes on you. Hopefully you’ll stop rambling then.”
All in all, I’m a bit glad I wasn’t looking for my soulmate before. I don’t think my heart could have dealt with the surprise if I was actually expecting something. But hey, becoming a house-husband to the worlds’ most powerful evil sorceresses wasn’t really something to complain about.
(Originally posted under the wrong account, sorry!!) | Case got into the shower and blasted himself with ice cold water, trying to force his brain into waking up for the big day ahead. It was around seven AM, he wasn’t in any particular rush, yet he felt a little bit anxious, as is to be expected.
“Barber at nine, flowers at ten, and ceremony at twelve,” Case recited to himself, he knew the schedule in and out already, but nothing was allowed to go wrong on this day. Nothing.
As he reached for the shampoo from the metallic vacuum-shelf in the shower, a mustard coloured smoke started enveloping his legs, “What’s this?” Case said in half-shock, trying to brush off the assaulting fog, but it was in vain. The smog soon started spinning quickly around him, glowing weakly like a candle behind a sheet of paper. His world was spinning, he started to feel light-headed and rushed out of the shower, in an attempt to get far away from whatever this was.
To Case’s great dismay, he did not enter his bathroom as he expected. Instead, he entered a large hall filled with people in black and golden robes, citing strange passages. There were large windows with light spilling through them, they depicted strange symbols in a wide array of colours and people he did not recognize. It sure looked like the inside of a church, but it wasn’t the one he planned to end up in today. In fact, he did not recognize it at all, it seemed strangely alien.
Case started to passionately share his displeasure with the situation, when a beautiful woman in black and red robes, similar to the servants but clearly more lavishly decorated, announced gleefully, “It worked! I can’t believe it worked, I summoned my soul mate!”
Case’s brain didn’t quite register what was happening, he was just in the shower, had he gone mad? “Where am I? What’s this about a soul-mate?”
The woman turned to one of the nearby robed fellows, a short and plump person, “He’s… naked. Is this part of the spell?” she said, the robed man shook his head.
Remembering his fully exposed situation, Case covered up himself with his hands as best as he could. He wanted to shout at these people who must’ve drugged him and played some sort of prank, but he recalled where he was supposed to be, “What time is it?! No, no, no. You need to take me back!”
The short man took a step towards him, “You are hereby property of Queen Ximenia, first of her name. And unfortunately for you, we cannot return you to your own world.” He cleared his throat, “Seeing as you’re our great Queen’s one and only soulmate, you are to be groomed and prepared for one day wedding her.”
Case glanced around himself, some of the robed individuals snickered audibly at his predicament, he didn’t find it funny, “I already have a soul-mate! I was to wed her this very day, you *have* to return me back to where I was, right now!”
The chubby robed man began to speak but was interrupted by the queen silencing him, “I’m sorry, so very sorry, but we can’t. Our souls are bound, whatever you had with her can’t be compared to what we will share!”
“You’re all crazy,” Case said, starting to shuffle his wet feet towards the large doors at the far end of the hall, “I’ll go grab a cab, don’t follow me! I still might have time to recover from this.”
The queen frowned, “What’s a cab?” she asked her servants, none of them knew.
Case hastily pushed at the massive doors, they opened without much resistance, to his great delight. When he stepped out on the cold stone, he realized something was very wrong. There was nothing but a desert surrounding this strange building he had been transported to, and there seemed to be two suns scorching him simultaneously. He was probably delirious, Case figured. He peeped back inside, “Ahem, where am I?”
The servants looked incredulously at each other, the queen spoke up, “We are in the Mekrath Desert,”
Case didn’t recognize that name, it didn’t sound like anything he’d heard ever in his life, “I don’t know where that is?” he said.
The queen looked like she remembered something, “Ah, of course, my apologies! We don’t know from what system you come from, of course! We’re on New Titania, in the Algeiba System.”
Case narrowed his eyes, “Earth?”
“Yes we have earth here too,” she responded cheerfully, “you’ll feel right at home!”
Ximenia gestured to her servants who quickly dispersed to collect Case, who was presently in shock. Someone covered him with a robe, many hands forcing him to walk off to a nearby room, there was a voice instructing him, but he didn’t understand the words. All he could think about was Sophie, and how she was going to murder him for bailing on their wedding day.
*****
Thank you for reading!
[/r/NordicNarrator](https://www.reddit.com/r/NordicNarrator) | 2019-04-28T07:10:32 | 2019-04-28T07:09:57 | 166 | 12 |
[WP] Two serial killers end up on a blind date together and both keep trying to find an oppurtunity to kill the other. | "May I?" Charles asked, smiling at the woman sitting across from him as he lifted a bottle of wine to her glass. "I hope it's not too much, the wine? I like to bring my own, you know, it's a little habit of mine..."
The woman - her name was Alice, he knew that much - gave a coy smile and shook her head, her dark curls flying. "Oh, I don't drink. You never know when someone might want to poison you, you know."
They stared at each other for a brief moment, and started to laugh.
"Well, fair enough, I guess," Charles said, hiding his frustration behind a grin.
Poison, no, but the little extra something he'd slipped in would have made her pleasantly compliable, and much easier to transport to his secondary location. But never mind, never mind. The night was young and fresh still, with many hours stretching out before him to conclude his business.
"So, you go on blind dates often?" Alice stretched out the word 'blind', staring intently into Charles' eyes.
Such lovely, light blue eyes. Her mouth curled into a smile as she imagined how he would look by the end of the night. The rest of him would be quite ruined, of course, but she would make sure to save those pretty eyes for her collection. She smirked to herself as she imagined the headlines they would write - a man murdered and blinded on a blind date.
"Not many, no," Charles sighed. "My dates never call me back, for some reason."
"Poor baby." She leaned forward to touch his wrist, hoping the powder she'd transfer there would be enough to knock him out.
It was almost too easy by now - she'd simply have to act panicked when her date fainted, and get him out of here. Someone would probably even help load him into a cab for her. He jerked his hands back before she could do it, however, and she stared at him. No-one had *ever* rejected her. He looked discomfited.
"Sorry, I...don't like being touched unexpectedly," he said, flustered, kicking himself for the awkward explanation.
It was perfectly true, but he'd always been able to act normal on these occasions before. Pretend to be comfortable with human contact, eager to touch the women he met. But this woman - there was something in her eyes that woke a nameless instinct in his gut. That warned him to be careful.
But another part of him was begging him to ignore the instinct, to lean forward and found out what it felt like to hold her hand. He took a hasty gulp of wine to mask his confusion, bewildered by his own feelings - he'd never felt this way about another person before. Always, he'd only been interested in one thing. And it wasn't sex.
"That's quite alright, I guess I'm just too comfortable with you," she said graciously, curling her hands into fists on her lap, carefully wiping her fingertips clean on the tablecloth.
Perhaps she'd moved too fast. There was something about this one that made her eager to get him back to her place, to play....for the first time in a long time, she felt anticipation for the act that would precede her kill. He really did have *very* pretty eyes.
"Dreadful, isn't it? That murder?" Charles changed the subject abruptly, gesturing towards the cover of the newspaper the man at the table across from them was reading.
He couldn't resist - the cover was splashed with the details of his last *date*, after all. It always gave him a delicious thrill to discuss his actions, to pretend to be as horrified as the rest of them.
"Oh, yes," said Alice, sparing the newspaper a single glance, her lip curling slightly. "Shocking, I guess. A little...unimaginative, though."
She said the last sentence under her breath, almost unconsciously. But Charles heard her, and his pulse quickened. That wasn't a normal response. That wasn't normal at all.
"Oh? You'd do it differently, would you?" he asked sardonically, and their eyes met over the table, as if seeing each other properly for the first time.
"Sorry, that was insensitive, wasn't it?" she gave an odd, light sort of laugh. "I guess it's just, there's so many crimes like that, you know? Young woman found, throat slashed in an alley. It gets a little tiring to read, I suppose. A little...boring."
He stared at her, his eyes sharp with interest, forgetting all about his second attempt to slip something in her glass of water. He *had* to hear this. "Oh? What would make it a better scene, do you think? What would make it less boring?"
Three hours later, they were still sitting at their table, leaning in to each other as they talked animatedly. At some point, their hands had linked across the table.
The waiter smiled to himself as he went to fill their glasses. It always gave him a lift to see a first date go well.
----------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | ((Sorry for spelling and grammar errors, I wrote this from my iPad))
Abigail wrapped her arms around the bicep of her new tinder date, resting her head on his shoulder as they walked the waterfront. The sun creep behind the horizon, letting way to moonlight gently reflecting off the subtle waves of the sound. "I had such an incredible time tonight Dusty.. Dinner was excellent, I hadn't tried crab in that manner before." She giggled lightly, "Those last few drinks really hit, do you mind if we sit down somewhere for a moment?" Abigail cockily smiled, she hardly drank a drop but playing drunk would get her what she wanted.
Dusty cracked a half grin and found a spot that opened to small pebble beach front, pulling his arm up to create a hook on which he could lead the petite woman to the quiet spot on the already desolate beach. Watching as Abigail ran ahead, his eyes roamed her body. Hips that smoothed into a cinched waist and a subtle bubble butt from working out, her raven hair nearly reaching it. When she flipped around at a spot she found, her breasts glistened in moonlight, leaving Dusty to feel very aroused.
Smiling at the talk drink of water working his way over to her, Abby smiled brightly for she found the absolute perfect spot. Their was a large log blocking most of their view from the waterfront, and the gravel was soft here with most of the rocks being kicked off by pedestrians who walked the front earlier in the day. "You are so beautiful.." Dusty stated, his hand gently brushing strands of hair behind Abby's ear. He draped his jacket around her shoulders, and invited her to sit on his lap to enjoy the view.
Abby watched the waves crash against the pier as a small beacon of light off in the far waters glowed ever so lightly. She had her right where she wanted him, and she could feel the hardness of his lust beneath her. "Is that.. all for me?" She asked in an innocent voice. "Of course.. only if you'd have it." Dusty rubbed her back softly, pushing his palms into the muscles around her tiny shoulders. Flipping her tight body around, Abby lay on top of Dusty to share a moments passionate kiss. He grabbed the back of her neck a little roughly, and flipped her on her back. The kissing didn't stop as Dusty got more aggressive, his hand wrapping around her throats and his shoved his tongue into her mouth. Abby whined in pleasure, as Dusty slid a hand into his pocket. "Look me in the eyes baby and tell me you want this.. cry my name." He ordered Abby, who respectfully repeated.
Sliding a pocket knife, he flipped it open, using a finger to keep the sound from alarming his date. He shanked deeply into Abby's hip waiting to feel the thrill, something wasn't right though he felt immense pain. This enraged him as he looked down to see a knife resting in his own hip. Abby bursts out laughing, slipping out from under Dusty and standing near him. "You son of a bitch, you stabbed me." She yelped, pulling the knife from her hip. Dusty yanked the knife from his own hip, angrily jumping to his feet and taking a swipe at Abby. She jumped back, her feet now in the water ever so slightly. "Come now darling, you'll have to be quicker than that." She laughed, antagonizing him even more. Dusty bull rushed her, knocking her to the ground again, he straddled her lap. Quickly he placed his hands on her head and shoved it underwater. He whined in a sick pleasure as she struggled under his weight just to breathe as water filled her lungs. Abby grabbed some sand, and shoved it into his eyes. Quickly regaining her breath as he yelled and struggled to scratch the sand out from his eyes. She darted off towards under the pier, where it was extra dark.
By now, the pair had lost a decent amount of blood from their wounds which reopened every time they twisted and turned around the posts that held the pier above up. Dusty was getting rather impatient not able to get his kill, as Abby enjoyed the thrill of the game. He angrily stumbled around, starting to feel weak, yet equally as angry as Abby hid from him. As he rounded a corner, he was met with a knife into his stomach, he quickly shoved his into hers. The two held onto each other and fell to the ground on their knees. They gazed into each other's eyes, and shared a sinister smile. "You know dusty, I've never met a man like you.." "As I you.." Their lips met as sand and blood mixed with saliva before they collapsed in a pol of their own blood. | 2017-10-27T07:59:33 | 2017-10-27T06:36:25 | 396 | 25 |
[WP] You have a peculiar 6th sense. On exams you see the correct answers highlighted. During conversations you read the words you see floating in the air like a teleprompter. Every single decision you've made has been the "correct" one and life is good. One day you try choosing the other option. | ######[](#dropcap)
The idea lurked there, like a virus, implanted in the back of his head. He could pick the wrong one, if he so chose. Just once. Clark had lived 28 years of his life simply going through the motions, and to be honest, it was beginning to wear on him. Just once, he wanted to experience agency, to live out the free will that Heidegger said would bring existentialism.
He wanted that existential crisis more than anything he'd wanted in his entire life. The desire coated his tongue like a thick peanut butter that couldn't be swallowed.
So one day, he did it. In a small, rebellious way that shouldn't have mattered very much at all. He just changed one little sentence.
"How's the weather?" Marie had asked him that morning.
He knew what he should say. It's nice.
"It's not great," he said. And shrugged.
"Oh, that's good!" Suddenly, a funny expression appeared on her face. She looked at Clark strangely, almost hesitantly, and then walked away.
It gave him a thrill. A rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins better than the purest dose of heroin. So he did it again. And again.
The stakes became higher.
He changed complete sentences. He uttered complete nonsense at times. He spoke when he wasn't prompted at all. It felt like the world had burst into a million different visceral colors, and he was its painter. Life was good.
Until one day, it all came to a screeching halt. Quite literally. Within a matter of seconds, the world was swallowed in darkness, and Clark had the strangest feeling that it was him to blame.
&nbsp;
"Look, see there?" John pointed out the variable to his teammate. "That variable's shifting erratically for no reason."
Tom stared at it as it went through the debugger. "That's impossible."
They watched as the value shifted infinitesmally. "There has to be something changing it in the code."
John shrugged. "I've gone through every piece of that code." Then he snapped his fingers, scrolling down the screen until he found it. "I thought it was strange before. Look, someone used a float here instead of an int. It's an approximation now, so it's imperfect. That's why the value was shifting."
"Nice catch." He made the change. "Okay, great. Let's run the simulation again."
*****
r/AlannaWu | "How are you not terrified?!" Percy exclaimed as he was sweating profusely. His grey shirt had been a bad choice, but I kept my mouth shut about it. The upcoming medical exam wasn't even a challenge for me. Nothing was, really.
I left the exam early, saluting my friend who was bravely battling the endless line of questions. My gift is my curse. The power to say the right thing 100% of the time guarantees a smooth, happy life. I've learned the hard way that successes aren't valid if you didn't have to work hard for it. Nothing I've achieved has given me genuine happiness. My test scores don't define my knowledge. Nobody likes me for who I am, just for who I choreograph myself as. Not even the easy lays made me happy.
I decided to do a detour to the park and sat down on a bench. An old lady was sitting next to me, feeding her sandwiches to the birds. Pondering my next 100% successful move, my bench mate turned towards me and asked if I wanted a piece of her lunch. She explained that she really wasn't hungry and she didn't want to waste it on all the birds.
Oddly enough, the suggested answer was "no, thank you". Why would the answer be no? I was rather hungry and she was just being kind. I wanted a free decision. Something originating from my soul, dictating what I really wanted. So I said yes. I said yes to the yummy goodness that was her sandwich.
Bite after bite I started feeling truly better about myself. I could make my own decisions, didn't need a higher power telling me what to do. My breath increased its' pace. Excitement coated my veins as I naively thought eating this sandwich was the best idea of my life. My body began to shudder violently as I realized the true cause of my state. The old crone had poisoned me and now she was silently watching me die.
"Why?" I asked her. "You chose not to use your gift for good, so I'm giving it to someone who deserves it."
| 2018-04-15T12:54:55 | 2018-04-15T12:52:42 | 1,202 | 85 |
[WP] You have 30 seconds with an ancestor of yours from 200 years ago (1814), before they are transported back to their time. What do you say to them? What effect appears in our world because of it?
Consider for the sake of this prompt that they aren't totally freaked out by being plopped into 2014, that they can understand you, and that they'll continue their life as normal back in their time, only with the knowledge of whatever you told them with your 30 seconds time. | ## Change EVERYTHING
"Sir, you have fifteen seconds," the lady behind the counter said to me, "And remember, you are not allowed to disclose any information that may affect the future of this company. Should you attempt to do so, your ancestor will be terminated and you will be liable for the fullest extent of penalties incurred under the contract you've just signed.."
I nod, trembling while doing so. It was my first time. They say that first timers often don't say a thing, simply look at their ancestor and let them go. They visit several times afterward, always trying to build up the courage until they say something meaningful.
The rich, of course, came to see their ancestors almost quite regularly. So much so that they were able to get richer and richer over time, find their family secrets, stash away trinkets that were valueless in the past but grew to be extremely expensive in the present.
On others, it backfired. Their ancestors would not heed warnings, or acted completely aganst them. The backfire could propagate into crumbling of enormous corporate empires overnight. No one knew it happened until it was already done. And then no one remembered.
People like me, however, scraped by all their lives, hoping to make that big change by investing all their money to see their ancestor and improve everything in swift thirty seconds.
I practiced for hours. "Don't choke," was the thought in my head, running on repeat.
"Five seconds," the lady announced and sealed herself off. I was in a wooden cottage simulation, alone, awaiting my great-great-great, oh who knows how many, grandfather.
The man before me appeared promptly. He stared straight into my, completely unphased by what happened.
"Ahh, great great grandson. How is my little empire?"
I stared in disbelief, "What do you mean?"
He frowned, "Something went wrong. I should not have invested with those damn charlatans, should I have?"
"You've seen me before?"
"Oh yes, quite frequently. Quick, we only have a few seconds. What should I do?"
The timer was ticking away, loudly in my head.
"Things must have gone wrong. Don't do what I said last time. Remember me. Good luck!"
I walked out of the simulation, barely remembering what had happened.
"Hello sir, should I expect you next week?"
"I'll have my secretary arrange my next appointment. Thank you."
My phone vibrated with an email notification. The company merger was approved by the federal regulators, finally. | Another one, had an idea. This probably breaks the 30 second rule though...
"Tyler!"
"Oh, it's you again! Hello...Dana, was it? I'm glad to talk to you again, I wanted to thank you for..."
"What happened, Tyler? You were supposed to invest in Google stock?"
"I did! And holy crap did it take off! I sold it at $300 per share just last week, can you believe it?"
"TYLER! That stock price is going to get to over $1000 per share!!!"
"Really? No...there's no way!"
"I'M FROM THE FUTURE YOU MORON! Remember?"
"Well, but...I made like $500,000! I bought my family this new house, we setup a college fund for the kids..."
"IT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE FOR YOU TO SPEND! We were going to wait until the stock peaked, and invest in a bunch of other companies, and continue the process until....I WAS GOING TO BE A TRILLIONAIRE, TYLER! I had my island all picked out!"
"Well screw you, OK? Why the hell should I live in borderline poverty, plugging every spare dollar I make into stocks that I'm never going to sell? My kids should work two jobs to pay their way through juco so you can be rich 200 years from now?"
"Goddamn it, I swear....OK, look, you got your nice house, all right? Your kids are set for college. Can we start again? I...I planned for this, there are other companies that we can..."
"Oh, I didn't tell you, that's the best part! See, I had like $75k left over, and I invested it myself!"
"....into what? What company, Tyler?"
"RIM! You know, they make Blackberry's? I just got this 7210 model, it's great! It has a phone in it and everything! How much is their stock going to be worth?"
".....goddamn you, Tyler." | 2014-05-09T08:44:55 | 2014-05-09T07:21:13 | 70 | 49 |
[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. | “HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO DIE?”
Liam considered. More carefully than he ever had in his life, which is probably why he was standing where he was at the moment, waiting for execution. The withered husk that preceded him was dragged off into a narrow steel corridor. The one he would himself be dragged off to in just a few moments.
*The best death would be…the best death…something was there*. A hint, a way, a hope. A tiny thought wriggled on the long end of a line cast back in memory. Days of boredom, doodling tiny pictures of stick figures fighting magnificent, heroic, insignificant battles while the teachers droned on. Days where the only thing that could capture his attention was the gnarled and bent history teacher. *What was his name?*
Mr. Philips, yes that was it. He was a storyteller more than a teacher, and history came alive in that classroom. Mr Philips would leave his seat and perch upon his solid oak desk and weave tales that captivated and delighted. Tales of heroes and glory and sacrifice. And Mr Philips favorite story (and Liam’s as well) had been...
And suddenly Liam smiled, for the first time in months. The executioner raised a quizzical eyebrow and slowly stroked the ridiculous beard that insecure wizards favored. He opened his mouth to ask the question once more, but before he could start Liam suddenly spoke.
“And how can man die better, than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his Gods?” Liam smiled ferociously, baring his teeth in a rictus warrior's grin. The executioner studied him for a second, and returned the smile along with a nod, and a simple wave of his pale black wand.
The world faded to white, then black. And then red.
——————————
“What a mess” said Jurl as he carefully picked his way over the pile of bodies. He hated cleanup duty. At least 80 or 90 of the apparitions were strewn in a rough semi-circle at the far side of a narrow bridge. And on the bridge itself lay a single, real body. Jurl counted at least a dozen serious wounds on the body. The sword lay shattered at his side, chipped and marred, and bloodied. The shield was almost unrecognizable, and the sigil on the front impossible to make out from the battering it had taken. On the far side of the bridge stood a temple, dazzling marble white, untouched. Smoke from a burning sacrifice of calf drifted lazily in the afternoon air, and Jurl could hear voices inside, chanting a name in perpetual gratitude for their survival: “LIAM, LIAM, LIAM!”.
Jurl pursed his lips, and set to work, dispersing the generic slaughtered enemies one by one back into the aether they had sprung from. Heroic last stands were always the hardest to clean up. | The line had been excruciatingly long, almost unbearably so. Prisoner number after prisoner number was called, each time slowly getting closer to the one that I held. We were given numbers at the start, much like we were just waiting in line at the DMV or at the doctor's office. If only this was as nice of a scenario. I listened to each prisoner list out how they wanted to go, most said something along the lines of what I had planned for, lethal injection. Fast and moderately painless was all I could hope for.
*Prisoner number 2754920, please step forward*. I was next, and I was bored, so rather than continue counting the audience members, I listened in on this guy's conversation with the judge.
"How do you wish to die today, sir?"
"I wish to die of old age."
I was floored, stunned. No one had said anything like that before. I watched as before my eyes he was turned into an old man, dying of old age just as he had asked. *Shit*, I thought. *We can wish for stuff like that?*
"Your wish has been granted. Carry on. Next is prisoner number 2754921, please step forward and state how you wish to die today."
I was frozen, unable to move. What do I do now? My plan crumbled before me as I watched an old man be helped out of the courtroom.
"Prisoner number 2754921, if you do not step forward, a death will be assigned to you, and I guarantee it will be less pleasant than what you have envisioned for yourself."
I felt a guard shove his gun into my back, pushing me towards the center of the court. I moved what felt like legs of lead and feet of cement, inching closer towards the marked destination. Suddenly, an idea popped into my head, a way to cheat the system, and it was as if all the weight fell off of me at once. Everyone had chosen a realistic death, but if I were to choose something unrealistic, surely magic had it's limitations.
"How do you wish to die today, young one?"
A dream I had had since a child, being a pirate and dying a way only heard in tales. "I wish to die at sea from the beast, the Kraken," I stated, stifling a laugh.
"Your wish has been granted. Next is prisoner number 2754922, please step forward and state how you wish to die today."
*I thought there were no limitations, but I was soon to find out just how wrong I was as I was led towards a door that smelled of the sea.* | 2021-06-24T06:47:00 | 2021-06-24T03:42:17 | 172 | 66 |
[WP] The hero was killed, the princess was sacrificed, and the evil king rules the land. For the average citizen, though, things have taken a turn for the better. | "A great man has died", the ink at the top of the first thick brown page of the Adventuretown Times read.
Olaf skimmed the next few lines as he sat eating a crust of bread with cheese at his sturdy wooden table. Their so-called glorious leader and hero, Smartin, had been brutally murdered. Luckily, the paper stated, his wife Henryilda had not been left a widow for many seconds before she was as well slaughtered. And according to the Times, one might as well just abandon hope now, as the evil man Pugly was now the ruler of these lands.
To anyone else, these news might have seemed frightening, but Olaf had lived in Adventuretown his whole life, and this story was far from unusual.
"Another so called dark lord has come to take over, huh" he muttered to himself as he went outside to milk the cows.
While squeezing the white liquid out of the cows breasts, he tried to recall how many days it had taken before their now deceased leader had gone from dark lord to hero and savior. Not more than a fortnight, he concluded.
The leaders of Adventuretown changed often. Ever since the founder of the town, John, had been killed by a man that was in fact truly evil, an endless stream of wannabe heroes had come to rescue the town from its oppressive leader, this meaning that each time one hero had taken over, another one came around.
And with no imminent danger around, many of these heroes seemed to degrade into something else entirely. No matter how valiant they might be when defending the weak, they almost all caved as soon as they got the sweet taste of power.
So when Olaf returned to eat his lunch, he skipped all the mind-numbing litterature describing the takeover, and simply inspected the last pages, describing the new taxes, rules and so forth that was to be implemented under the reign of the new, 138th hero and savior of Adventuretown.
He was very pleased. Lower taxes on crops, benefits for the farmers, who had been having a tough time making it under the rather strict rules of Smartin.
After a long day of work and quietly celebrating the coming of new, better times with his wife and two children, Olaf went to bed.
The next morning he woke up even earlier than usual. The sun had just risen, casting a faded light on the landscape of the outskirts of Adventuretown. His heart sank a little as he saw the source of his awakening; an ironclad man riding a white stallion, followed by a horde of trumpeteers and servants, announcing his intentions - to liberate the citizens of Adventuretown.
Olaf let out a heavy sigh and went back to bed.
| War ate at the Marshlands like a beast gnawing at prey. The bones of the land had been cracked open, the marrow sucked out and the lifeblood ran dry. Corpses lay facedown in the fens, turning the peat a colour of oxblood; rich and dark when lit. The rivers polluted by bodies; peeling strips of skin and flesh sloughing from bones was a sight common in the watery mid-lands.
At the Crannock-field, Miron Lion Prince lay the same as every other dead man. The crows ate at his eyes and peeled the stinking flesh from his lips. His skull grinned inanely at the blue sky, while barrow flowers began to sprout over his corpse. No other flowers left for him; his grave no tomb but a forgotten marsh, his burnished silver plate rusted in the mud. Dew pooled on the lion embossing.
Lacey crossed the Crannock-field in high boots, dragging a wheeled cart behind him. It bumped over the uneven ground, splashing bilge water up over the bundles of weapon and armour that lay in it. Lacey picked up another helmet with calloused fingers. He'd managed to stop practising archery every morning now that the fighting had stopped. He examined it for bumps and, pleased with its condition, flung it into the cart.
Enough armour, and he'd take it to Harry the Smith in exchange for permission to court his daughter, Matilda. She had long, blonde hair and freckles in July, eyes as blue as meadow-flowers. Even the dead princess Caraway had not been so beautiful. Lacey stopped by a corpse and picked up the sword that lay beside it. Golden and gleaming, it had retained its edge despite the weeks in marsh water.
Another man might have known it as Yarrow Bane, the legendary sword that had lost the battle at Crannock-field. Lacey held it and for a moment entertained an image of himself, mounted on a white horse, at the head of an army. The sword told him he could be mighty. But the fighting was done, and Matilda's blue eyes were bright as the sky. Lacey dropped the sword in the cart, and continued his way across the field of death. | 2016-07-10T11:47:00 | 2016-07-10T11:09:03 | 230 | 80 |
[WP] When you die, you are presented with a staircase to heaven, with each sin adding a step to your staircase. Your staircase is as tall as Everest. | Everything had gone white. There was no more pain. I took a breath but did not breathe. I knew I had to be dead, but for the life of me, couldn't figure out where the kitschy outdoorsy themed decor played into it. Was this purgatory? Did heaven look like a national park information center?
The elderly woman behind the information counter cleared her throat gently. She was wearing a little gold name tag that read "Phanuel." Well, I guess I could just fucking ask.
"Hey... Ms... Phanuel. I'm real fucking sorry, but... am I dead? Is this... heaven or some shit like that?"
She looked up at me and smiled. "Something like that, sweetheart. It's sort of a purgatory for people who've been naughty. For every sin you've committed, one step is placed on the staircase between you and heaven."
Well, I wasn't a saint, but still that was only... what, maybe 50 stairs all the fuck together?
"Great, point me to it."
She pointed out the window, and I nearly toppled over. It looked like Escher had taken shrooms and tried to invent a new way of forming a quadruple-helix.
"Shit! How many stairs is that?
"You have... 560,088 steps to go, exactly."
"Jesus fucking Christ."
"And now it's 560,089 steps. Please stop cursing, dear." | I looked at the sign again and frowned. "This is your staircase to heaven. Each sin in your moral life has added a step. Your total step count; 58,070 steps. Happy climbing!" Huh.
I took another look at the staircase in question. It was a glorious sight to see, a beautiful spiraling staircase with steps of the whitest marble, and handrails of the loveliest gold, embellished with silver and copper. It was truly the work of a master craftsman.
I looked around and saw nothing else in any direction. Just a staircase that was humming with power and glory. I squinted up toward the top, and could barely discern the outline of a gate.
Well, I have got nothing better to do, seeing as I am dead. I shouldn't get tired either, as, again, I am dead.
I probably shouldn't wait around for all eternity. So I took one step up the staircase, and then another, and began to climb. | 2017-10-19T18:47:43 | 2017-10-19T14:23:32 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | I cursed the sun as I pulled my robes more tightly around my neck and face. Human skin is thin and in limited supply, so I had to care for it to the best of my ability.
"Turn back, you infernal idiot," one of them clicked at me.
"You know how he gets when he sets his mind on something," another snarled back, "he's going to get us all killed..."
"Or worse..." a third chittered.
I hummed to drown out their impish voices and instead turned my thoughts to the journey that lay ahead. Yes, it would be challenging. Yes, I would probably lose some aspect of myself in the process, but to be surrounded by allies again - by people who cared for me unconditionally - was something I wanted more than ever. I missed Terval and his silent compassion. Kaarah and her lively stories about dragons and ogres. Jeevah and their empathetic advice on change. I had grown to love them and, by extension, had grown to love helping others with them. But now they were missing.
The sun glinted off the Sigil of Lux on the chapel's roof as I approached it and I choked back the instinctual growl. *Get used to it*, I thought as I neared the door, *you're doing this for the people who rely on them; you're doing this for... you.*
"No, you're doing this because you're suicidal," they started again.
"Do you have any idea what Umbor will do to you... to us?"
"We'll be exor..."
I loudly knocked on the door to stop their chattering. Not long after, a familiar face appeared as he opened the door.
"Grrrkash, so nice to see you, but where are..."
"They're not with me and I need to find them," I replied, "your Faith has chapels across the Six Kingdoms, yes?"
Abbot Glynt nodded.
"And when do the Sunbringer Pilgrimages begin?"
"At the end of this week."
"I want to join."
He raised an eyebrow, "Do you have any idea what will become of you if you do this?"
"Yes," I shuddered involuntarily, "but I need to find them and you're my best chance." | *Where are they?* I screamed at the bound monster sitting across of me, its face full of fresh bruises.The monster stared fiercely at me, remaining ever so silent.
I went to back room, and took out my tools.
*You see, I am not a good person, I never was, I tried to be good, I liked having a party, allies, friends, I even began doing good things and repaying for my sins; helping orphans and defeating villains. But my friends were taken by your boss, the arch-fiend, I may be bad, but they do not deserve such cruel treatment.*
I began pulling out several jagged tools, they shone in the dim light from the torch, the steel covered in a thin crimson layer. The monster was shaken by this sight. I turned back to face it.
*I have never told you my name, how rude of me, I am Jack, some folk know me as Thousand Cuts, The everlasting pain, The blood letter, but I abandoned that life, and I will give you another chance to tell me WHERE THEY ARE!*
The monster opened it's black maw, it's breath stunk like a thousand corpses rotting in the hot desert sun, and yet nothing came out. The adrenaline rushed through my veins, it was a different rush, an older one, one which I have not felt since I abandoned my post under the old tyrants rule. I swiftly picked up a knife and moved it ever so closely to the monsters face, giving it a last chance to speak.
The monster bolstered its courage and refused.
*Several hours later*
My robes were covered in green and black blood from the monster, and even though I worked all night, I smiled gleefully and got what I needed, I have not felt such joy for a long time. | 2019-12-07T10:47:33 | 2019-12-07T10:37:08 | 150 | 49 |
[WP] The goblins who dwell just outside your village are small and dumb –in an oddly endearing way. The villagers humor their innocuous raids and sometimes even give them advice. In the village’s darkest hour, the goblins send aid. | I feel like this should be put down to paper so that the story is not lost to time. I will start by saying that, by the time I was born, the goblins were a running joke.
They settled near the village during my great-grandfather's time so the stories go. Small, stupid, barely clinging to life as they huddled beneath the trees in the nearby forest. At first the people of my village tried to drive them off but the goblins were so weak and pathetic even the coldest heart stirred with pity. So my great-grandfather's generation left them alone.
My grandfather's generation started to toy with them. The goblins, being starving, would 'raid' the village with sticks and stones. There was a small push by the villagers to drive them out but after four raids and not a single injury that faded. Instead the village made a small fence of sharpened wood posts. Lo and behold the next raid the goblins had sharpened their sticks. My grandfather's generation started to leave out things like hunting traps, snares, etc. and laughed when the goblins were caught in them. Then begrudgingly impressed when the next group to go foraging found crude imitations made by goblin hands.
My father's generation continued this tradition of indirect aid. They would speak loudly as they did certain tasks.
"Boy salting this meat sure makes it last longer."
"Wow you can make clothes out of animal skin? Who knew? Sure hope nobody is watching as I do this."
That kind of thing. Nothing outright. At this point the goblins being nearby was an accepted part of life. We considered them strange neighbors so, like we would for any member of the village, we helped them as much as their pride would allow. Occasionally there would be an adventurer coming out to, "rid us of the goblin menace" however that usually ended with very confused adventurers questioning everything they knew about goblins.
Now during my generation is where things started to change a bit faster. The local lord decided that the woods where the goblins lived were his hunting grounds. Hunting dogs, horns, the whole ordeal constantly. I grew tired of it quickly since it made foraging for herbs in the wood near impossible. The goblin "raids" on our village petered out from once a month when I was a small child to barely once a year as a grown man. By now the goblins were using blunted arrows and dull spears during these raids, despite us knowing full well they had true weapons.
The village headman spoke to the goblin chief at the end of each raid, making sure they were alright. Helping them plan how to hide when the lord's hunt swept through. Not quite treason but definitely skirting the line of acceptable. A bit of trade for our salted pork for their excess hides occurs. Simple stuff.
Now I am an older man and head of village. A few weeks ago our new lord, idiot that he is, insulted the king's tax collector. A notice was sent out that the king's men would be coming to take the taxes by force. A small army prepared to march through our village, take everything that wasn't nailed down, and call it fair. The lord said if we fled he would have us all hung. Death by starvation or death by the noose: an ogre's choice if ever there was one.
We decided on starvation after a vote. We hid what we could of course but none of us expected it to work. We saw the hundred men sent by the king marching across the field and made our peace. Then...a horn. Not the lord's hunting horn or any made by human hand but a smaller, higher pitch.
Suddenly the first rank of the king's men were in a ditch I know we never dug. Another horn. Dozens of arrows are loosed from the forest. None hit anyone but now the king's men are forming ranks in confused terror. A final horn is sounded but is quickly echoed by the baying of wolves in trees.
The king's men flee.
At sunset an old goblin waddles out to my village with a gap toothed grin and offers his hand.
"Come," he says in the human tongue. "We hide. We teach you to hide. Forest provides. We teach you how live there."
I admit to staring for a moment before a wheezing laugh erupts unbidden. Then I take the goblin's small hand with a smile and a small cheer from the villagers behind me. Turns out the most important lesson the goblins learned from us was how to treat their neighbors. | Tloki was the leader of the tribe. Smarter than the others, but just slightly so. He would often be seen giving his tribesmates long sticks as though they were swords, giving them fighting drills as they prepared for combat and leading the charge with a particularly rusty sword - the most valuable thing the goblins ever owned. It was great practice for their own guards, who were getting better and better at spotting enemies, waking up and getting ready faster and faster with each sound of the alarm, getting more attentive with each 'raid' that happened at unusual hours of the day, repealing them with wooden staves and shields so they would not get particularly hurt. Over time the village learned to leave a particularly undefended shack with a sack of general utilities lying inside, some random vegetables growing in its garden which the goblins would quickly claim in their escape back to their camp. Sometimes the village elder would see Tloki alone stand amongst the triumphant chanting of the goblins, simply looking at the villagers with knowing eyes.
Keela was the tribe's healer, or as close to a healer as they could get. She was treated as a revered shaman, but the village's own cleric noticed very quickly that her healing ointments were a mash of herbs and spit that was more likely to cause an infection than it was to heal any wounds. When one of the goblins got a particularly bad infection Keela would sneak into the village and rap at the cleric's door, quietly seeking assistance of genuine magic. At least twice was she followed by Tloki himself carrying the particularly wounded goblin on his back for immediate healing. One day after the blacksmith made a brand new metal holy sign for the cleric he gave his old wooden one away to Keela as a gesture of goodwill.
Okto initially followed the village hunters cagily, wielding a large curved stick held together by a rope that imitated their bows and mimicking their motions to fly arrows from it. One day the hunters slew a rabbit and left it behind for the goblin to find and Okto took the rabbit, ate its eyeballs and carried it to his tribe. Ever since that day, Okto would follow the hunters as quietly as he could, silently informing them where the best game of the woods was. Finally the hunters asked the village carpenter to fashion a goblin-sized bow and offered it to Okto, and in exchange the goblin gave them the eyeballs of the first rabbit he ever hunted.
Goblin children are rarely seen outside the village, so when the small child Izini was spotted lurking around the outskirts the sorceress personally kept an eye out on her. To her enormous surprise the goblin made various wild gestures at her as well as strange sounds from her mouth, leaving the sorceress utterly confused until she made several small sparks fly from her fingers. Where most goblins would flee in horror and fear, Izini instead clapped her hands in delight and mimicked the motions, her brow furrowed in concentration. Izini continued to visit the sorceress again and again, marvelled by the spells she could not cast.
When a gnoll tribe approached the village the guards had grown too complacent fighting the ineffectual goblin raids to properly make a stand and were quickly subdued. The villagers were rounded up in the town square while their stores and farmlands were raided. Out of the corner of his eye the village elder saw Tloki round what appeared to be all the goblins of the tribe and lead them to the village armory. The village hunters spotted Okto take his bow and quietly climb a house with five other goblins, knocking arrows unnoticed and ready to let them fly. The bound and gagged sorceress saw Izini suddenly materialize before her amongst the villagers, raising a single warty finger up to her mouth asking for silence. The village cleric's eyes widened when he saw Keela standing beside Tloki, clutching her battered wooden symbol. Keela shouted and raised the wooden sign in the air and a flash of brilliant light blinded the gnolls. Okto and his goblin archers began to pelt the monsters with arrows from the top of the houses. Izini, wide-eyed, managed to make all the villagers disappear from view. With a rousing battlecry Tloki and the goblins wielding shortswords and daggers from the village armory charged towards the gnolls.
‐--------
/r/Tallen | 2022-05-26T08:17:36 | 2022-05-26T08:03:35 | 382 | 176 |
[WP] A private investigator is hired to find a boy that has been missing for 30 years, only to eventually find out that he was the missing child and that his current "parents" kidnapped him at birth. | My mouth felt dry. My hands shook nervously as I peeled through the manila folder sitting in my lap. I could hear my partners voice beside me but it sounded distant.
Muffled.
I scanned through my notes for the thousandth time. Years and years of work. Sleepless nights and coffee infused days. All of it, all the work and the dead ends. The promising leads that would vanish into the air like Tommy Patterson had all those years ago. All of it had led me right here. The outside of my childhood home.
"Trevor," my partner spoke up louder this time. My eyes widened, startled by the sudden volume and hint of frustration in his voice. I looked over, buttoned shirt rattled and tie hanging loose around my tanned neck.
"I'm good. I'm good," I assured him. His glare told me he was unconvinced.
"I can go in and talk to her for you. I know this is going to be hard," my partner, Kent, said to me, elbow resting beside the Lincoln's window, his fingers twiddling the handle above the window back and forth. I glanced back at the papers in my lap. A set of finger prints found and identified on a thirty year old door knob from a bunker found by a local farmer. A bunker with signs of kidnap and torture. A bunker for missing children. Below was an address scribbled along the side of the paper. The location of the monsters I had been looking for for all these years.
___
"I'm going in alone." Trevor's voice was stern. Kent opened his mouth to protest but the stare Trevor gave him was menacing. A no non-sense look that made Kent almost choke on his own breath. He looked to his lap and nodded.
"Call me if you need back up," Kent said quietly. Trevor took a deep breath as he stepped out of the car. The cold morning breeze stung against his cheeks as he stepped into the yard he'd played in so long ago. He knocked on the front door twice and took a step back as he awaited an answer. The door swung open slowly, a smile he'd seen so many times before greeting him from behind a screen.
"Trevor?" his mother said with a mixture of surprise and cheer. "Is that really you? What're you doing here?" she said almost laughing as she swung the door open and embraced Trevor in a tight hug.
"Hi, mom," Trevor said softly. She looked up from his chest. Her smile dropped. It was a motherly instinct to know when something was wrong with their child. Tears immediately swelled in her eyes.
"Oh no," she gasped, hand covering her mouth. "What happened? Is Cassie all right? The kids?" she asked quickly.
"Everyone at home is fine, mom. I'm fine. I'm working actually," he told her. Her look shifted from nervous to confused. "Can I come in?" he asked and stepped inside his old living room a moment later. His mom rushed to grab some coffee as he sat in his father's old recliner. Most of his things, even though it had been years since he'd passed, were still scattered around the house. Trevor pulled the folder from his coat and spread three photos evenly across the table glass table.
"I have to say I wasn't expecting to see-" her voice faded as her eye caught the photos on the table. Trevor could hear the spoon suddenly begin to rattle against the sides of the coffee cup in her hand.
"Do any of these kids look familiar?" Trevor asked. His heart was sinking by the minute as he watched his mom's face shift at the sight of the photos. She sat slowly in the chair across from him, placing the coffee cup at the edge of the table.
"Trevor," she whispered but his glare was cold and unaltered. She could hardly look him in the eye.
"Answer the question."
"Trevor, your father-"
"Do they. Look familiar." Trevor was quickly growing impatient. He already knew the answer. She was wearing her guilt boldly on her sleeves. His mom squeaked as she began to cry. Her wrinkled hand cupped her lips as she broke down.
"Mom!" Trevor yelled out.
"Yes!" she answered immediately. "Yes," she said again more quietly. "Trevor, please you have to believe that what your father did-"
"What you did! Both of you!" Trevor screamed, holding back his own tears now. "These innocent kids. You kidnapped and killed them?" Trevor could barely utter the words as he shook his head in disbelief at his mother. He hardly even recognized the woman sitting across from him. He pointed at the third picture. A young boy smiling in a grey American flag shirt beside a small yellow slide. The picture was old and hazy. "What did you do to Tommy Patterson, mom? The other two were found but there's been no sign of him. No grave, no remains. What did you do to him?" he asked loudly.
"Trevor, please," his mom begged, crying profusely now.
"Mom! Where is Tommy Patterson?" Trevor was standing now.
"Here!" she yelled back at him. The room fell silent. "He's right, here," she whispered as she looked up at Trevor. He glanced around the room and down at the floor boards. He looked to the walls and up to the ceiling.
"You buried him? In our house?" he asked disgusted returning his gaze to his distraught mother. "The whole time I was here, you-"
"We didn't bury him, Trevor," she said looking to the floor. Her eyes slowly shifted up to his own until they locked together.
"We raised him."
___
Edit: Minor grammatical fixes and cleaned up some sentence structure. Also changed the last line since I feel u/Alwaysanyways suggestion is a more powerful delivery. |
White hair. Blue eyes. Male. The only description of a newborn baby kidnapped thirty years ago. A description over 100 million babies on the planet fit the criteria of, with 99% of them growing out of it by their teens. Hell, Riley had white hair once if his mother was telling the truth. Leaning back in his chair Riley Strummond, looked into the mirror near his desk. Impeccably dressed in a suede suit, khaki pants, and jet black hair without a single hair astray, The "Daper Detective" as his mother liked to call him. Riley smiled at his mother's description. He leaned forward again and glanced out the window of his office on the outskirts of New York and then turned over the file in his hand. A picture. A medical bill. This was the only concrete evidence he had. And of course one more thing was close at hand yet far away, a fortune blocked behind genetics.
50 grand. all the money he would need for the wedding his fiance Vale planned for this October. Plus even a little left over for the rest of the year. Of course he could use the money to advertise his detective agency and improve his business, but Vale would not allow that. He only had around 60 thousand saved up, but was afraid to tell Vale that. Sometimes he listened in on her phone calls at night, chatting to Marguerite about some asinine detail she still had to plan out. "Only three hundred guests? Doesn't he know the rules? The bride gets to have as many people as she wants! It's YOUR day after all Vale!"
"I know can you believe it? I suggested not inviting some of his friends, but he wouldn't have it! He even wanted to invite Bucky that man who owns the restaurant we always eat at. How selfish could he be? I have way more friends than he does, and the invites should reflect it!"
Riley grimaced at the memory. Bucky worked for Danny's Dinner for over 40 years and loved to play pranks on the couple. One time Bucky even insisted on being payed in Monopoly money, and pretended to be abject when Riley did not have any. Thankfully, Bucky let Riley off the hook in exchange for information. Bucky wanted Riley to put out word to his 'sharp eyed detective friends' to look for his cat Sylvan. She went outside last week and Bucky had not seen her since. Of course Riley laughed and promised to tell his colleagues and sure enough his coworkers found the cat within 24 hours. Vale, blushing at the unwanted attention from the other customers when Bucky yelled at Riley quickly pulled him out of Danny's. "You embarrassed me and yourself back there don't you know?" She squealed red in the face, "Next time tell Bucky to stop messing around and look for his own damn cat!"
Riley turned back to the hospital records and looked for an address; he found it smudged near the bottom of the page 734 Sandy Creek Road. That was near his old house, what a coincidence. Riley slowly rose from his chair and grabbed his jacket off the rack and checked his pocket for his keys. All accounted for. He went down the stairs and unlocked his car door. A 2006 Chevy Escapade was all he could afford right now, Vale had a 2016 Ford Hybrid, but as she said: "do you want me looking like a redneck hick driving around town?" He cranked up the car and thought about why he was even with Vale in the first place.
*Wait a minute I know!* chuckled a snide voice in his head, *it's because of your childhood, bullied, left in the foster car system in the 1st grade due to a tragic car accident. Poor old Riley, didn't have a friend in the world did you?*
When Riley turned 18 he moved to a small apartment above a department store and finally met Vale. She wasn't perfect, not even close, but filled a void in his life. Of course sometimes he wondered if her constant spending nagging and belittling was actually expanding, rather than destroying the void. Of course, the behavior always comes from somewhere. Riley imagined Vale's came from her alcoholic and narcissistic mother. Lilly was an abusive and controlling mother, but thankfully died earlier this year.
He drove along the road to a nondescript hospital and asked the staff on hand for a file on a certain name and said he had authority from the deceased's estate.
"Of course! The one twin that went missing 30 years ago, Riley Brown."
'Uhh did you say twins?" Riley furrowed his brow and followed up with another question, "and you said Riley?"
"Of course Riley Brown and Vale Brown! If you ask me I feel lucky for the one stolen, no need to grow up with that awful Lilly?" The nurse quipped
Riley's heart stopped and the color drained from his face.
'Are you ok?" The nurse looked worried
"Yes, I'm fine" Riley said bemused. "I just need to go collect some money and talk to someone thank you for your time."
With that, Riley headed outside and to his car and actually felt a twinge of happiness for the first time in quite a while. Turning the car on, Riley silently thought
*Let's hope I can still return that Hybrid*
| 2017-07-06T09:19:08 | 2017-07-06T07:51:55 | 1,592 | 571 |
[WP] As opposed to getting rid of the creepy dolls in the attic, you decide to clean them and fix them up. This made the little ghost girl very happy. | The two dolls were delicate porcelain creatures, both with pale, cracked faces — but where one missed an old green eye, the other missed an arm. They barely had a tuft of hair between them, just a few wiry curls left, once brown but now white. Hair that had aged as if it were real. Their clothes were rotten and their skin patched by decades of rain dribbling in through cracks in the attic roof. Dripped for so long that it had corroded their fragile bodies and punctured holes into their hollows.
Tommy stared at them now, at the two dolls, as he’d done many times before. Always too scared to touch, so he just stared. Not that he was even allowed up in the old attic, where rats skittered behind beams, and where cobweb hammocks sagged and swayed in a cold draft.
Mommy and Daddy had told him never to go into the attic alone. That it was unsafe. But they weren’t always there to watch him, and in those silent moments he’d sneak up and stare at the belongings of the two sisters, dead decades ago.
It had been a fire. Extinguished before it had consumed the house entirely, but not before it had devoured the children. A terrible accident that had led to this day, to Tommy staring entranced at the dolls.
The wind cried through the rafters, and rain drip drip dripped onto the doll with the missing arm. Tommy thought of the girls they had once belonged to. Not all the damage to the dolls was through weathering. Much was through love, through hugging and tea parties and naps together. Bathing together. He just knew the dolls and the girls had been inseparable once-upon-a-happier-time.
That made his little heart all the more sad, that the dolls and girls were both so far apart now.
He hadn’t had the courage before. Not ever. Or perhaps he had been building it up for this day. Saving little cups of courage for one big gulp.
Tommy stepped over the dolls, sheltering them from the rain. Gulp. He stooped and picked them up. Cradled them carefully as he moved them to a dry spot the other end of the attic.
He ripped up tartan fabric he found folded in an old leather trunk, and swapped the mouldy clothing on the dolls to something still old but at least clean. Their new hair came from a rocking-horse’s mane, thick and unruly, but plentiful. The new eye, a marble. The best he could do for a new arm was the leg of an ancient teddy-bear soldier — he tore it free and pushed it in the empty socket.
Then, for the first time in a long time, the dolls left the house.
&#x200B;
The graveyard was muddy, and willows shook above the tombstones as the wind roared. Mist rolled by in spiralled plumes.
Tommy had only ever been so scared once before.
Their gravestones were moss covered and dirty, and Tommy wiped his sleeves over the names to make sure.
When certain, he laid the dolls on top of each patch of grass, sad to make their new dresses muddy.
They looked forlorn on the ground. The marble eye glinting sadly in the moonlight. The soft leg-arm limply hanging.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was all I could do.”
&#x200B;
A cold hand touched his shoulder.
“It was your best,“ said a soft voice. Sarah’s voice.
“And that was always good enough,” said Catherine.
The sisters stood behind him, smiling. The moonlight travelled through them to the muddy grass.
Sarah held something in her hands, but Tommy couldn’t make it out.
Catherine bent down and took her doll. She pulled the leg out of the socket, so the doll once more had only one arm.
Sarah took the leg from her sister. She pushed it into the object she held, then passed an old, beloved soldier bear to Tommy.
”I’m scared,” he said.
”We know. But it’s finally time for us all to go,” said Sarah. “And at least we leave together.”
”I’m sorry it took me so long,” said Tommy. “I wanted to come so much sooner. But I was so, so scared.”
”We would have waited for you forever, if that’s what it took,“ said Catherine, kindly, as she placed an arm around her little brother.
Tommy hugged his bear tightly to his chest as they stepped into the mist. | The people who move in always seem so nice. They tidy up and bring me new and interesting things to look at.
But whenever I try to thank them, they won't talk to me. They pretend I'm not there. So I've stopped trying. Instead I set up my dolls and host a tea party, each and every day.
Jilly is really sweet. She loves shortbread and earl grey tea; she's got long black hair and green eyes. But some of the paint is chipping off her face, and her left arm is twisted.
Jane has been feeling sick for a while. Her hair is knotty and falling off, and she has a big crack across her mouth.
But that's OK. I am happy they are my friends, and we enjoy our time together.
A new friend came up to the attic last week. She brought up boxes full of photographs, books, and marvelous little Christmas tree ornaments. I asked her if I could take a look and she didn't answer. When she left, I began to rummage and explore. No one seems to mind as long as I put everything back the way it was.
What a fascinating life she has! She has taken trips to beautiful places, places I could never imagine. I wish I could ask her about them.
She came back upstairs on Saturday and moved a few boxes around. Then, to my surprise, she picked up Jilly and Jane, looked at them for a moment - and took them away! I was devastated. How would I ever hold my tea parties now?
It was a few days before she came back to visit again, but there were Jilly and Jane, tucked beneath her arms. She put them back in their chairs. They were so happy - Jilly's paint looked good as new, and Jane's smile was wider than ever.
I decided I needed to do something big to thank my new friend. I've always been shy around visitors, and spent each day making sure the attic looks just as it always has. But that night I arranged the boxes and books into letters. I made them say "THANK YOU."
My new friend gasped when she came upstairs. She looked frightened. I wanted to make sure she knew I was friendly, so I raised a teacup to her. The woman looked even more frightened, so I trembled a little and put the cup down.
She took a few steps over to me. I couldn't understand what she was thinking. She looked left and right quickly, then reached for the cup at the other side of the table. She raised it up --
And I raised up mine. Then I tilted my cup to pretend I was taking a sip. She raised her eyebrows. Then, slowly, she tilted her cup too.
I put my cup down. The woman nodded, chuckled, and, with a smile, began to climb back downstairs.
I felt a warmth inside me I'd never had before. Suddenly, I remembered - I remembered so much. I had lost my Mum and Dad and come up here to get out of the cold. No one was in the house then - no one lived here. But I got colder and colder as the night went on. I'd wished I had some tea to warm me up. And then - everything stopped.
I realized I had been up in the attic for so long - so, so long. But now I felt the warmth I had been missing on that night. Someone had come to my tea party. I had no further reason to stay.
I said goodbye to Jilly and Jane and put the "THANK YOU" boxes back in their place. Then I felt myself floating up - I didn't know I could do that! - and far above the house.
Now I watch over the world, from on top of the clouds, and feel so free. I host tea parties for all of my new friends up in the sky.
And I make sure to check in on my friend in the attic. She's moved a lot of things in and out of the attic over the years, but she always leaves one thing the same.
My tea set, and Jilly and Jane's places at the table. | 2020-10-05T11:21:45 | 2020-10-05T10:48:01 | 2,713 | 731 |
[WP] Your village holds a special ceremony for every child's 13th birthday. Under the midday Sun, the child's shadow would be viewed by the elders to determine what the child would grow up as. However on the day of your ceremony, you did not cast any kind of shadow. | "Child", the Grand Elder growled low, towering over me with his elaborate robes and ornate cane. His bushy brows, scruffled beard and frumpy dreads flaying which way and throw made good work to hide his expression.
"An explanation is necessary", Even his voice, while booming, did not immediately invoke either empathy or fury.
The rest of the village lay silent and still. The only sound came from the light crackling of the goblet that stood between myself and the Elder, and a hushed wind that spoke more for me than our collective silence could. I was petrified, surrounded on all sides by my tutors, my friends... even Mother and Father, gawking at me, as if only now discovering I was the undesirable I always knew myself to be. The silence was unbearable, as if they expected an evocation or some grand proclamation, anything to explain why I was the anomaly I was.
I looked down once more for good measure, not that it would be any different from the countless other times I checked since waking. After 13 years, my shadow decided to wander off without me; today, of all days. Of all days, it would be today, was all that kept ringing in my head. The one day of my life where my shadow would mean something?
"E-E-Elder..." I stammer, unable to stop my fidgeting hands and shaking legs, "Honest as rain, I haven't any idea what's wrong with me..."
I flinch as he clasps a hand against my shoulder, his grip spindly yet firm. I look up, expecting fire, but I'm shocked to meet warmth, an intensity of his eyes I've never once seen, and a smile only hinted by his rising wrinkles and beard.
"The rest cannot see you", the Elder states simply.
I don't know how to respond... was this another of the Elder's veiled instructions?
He gently places another hand on my other shoulder and turns me around, pointing to the snowy path I walked to get here, "Look at your trail to me, child..."
I looked at the snow, calm and pristine... it took me but a moment to see... I didn't leave a single trace of my presence. I was more than invisible, but simply not there. It wasn’t that the village was gazing at me... but through me, as the Elder spoke with the wind.
The Elder turns me around, his stare only growing in intensity. "Child... you are our Voidwalker." | When the thirteenth moon waxes and the snow that caps the pines threatens to turn to mush or harden for another moon and a half, we prepare for the ceremony. I don my rob, crafted from the fur of the special beast. I tremble with nerves, anxious as to what my future will bring. Safety for the group or an early demise as we are forced to emerge from our burrows.
The elders surround me, and with their guttural chants beckon me towards the surface. I touch the cold surface of the sheet of snow. Soft, dead, and the imprints upon it so foreboding, it continues onward in a sea of white. The midday sun beats down upon me and I see snow loosen itself from the topmost branches of a tree reaching to scrape the heavens and with a muted thud it falls to the ground. An ominous sound.
From below they call to me, begging for news. I can bring blessings; the safety of darkness and six more weeks of safety. I can bring bad omens; shadowless, and the start of the scavenging, when marauding adventurers may take potshots at our bulky forms and the asphalt rivers become impassable trenches littered with bodies.
I look down, as I ought to, and I shudder. "I see no shadow," I report to the elders awaiting below. No shadow at all. There's a groan; disappointment and dread. It is not often that this happens, but we know what this means. Winter will unleash us from it's loving embrace. Flowers will grace the meadow and hunters will emerge from their heated cabins. And there we'll be, innocent creatures lurking just above the surface, paws clasped in prayer for those who won't make it to next winter.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-10-24T13:33:51 | 2019-10-24T12:03:32 | 63 | 19 |
[WP] A vampire, due to his/her supernatural abilities, is the greatest spelunker in the world. Leading a team into the deepest recess of a cave system in which nobody has set foot in millenia, the vampire suddenly stops. (S)he needs an invitation. | It was hard to imagine how she had passed relatively unnoticed through the centuries with that burning red hair. As near as anyone could tell she was Irish, but Old Irish...the oldest. When she spoke there was a hint of a lilt to her voice but it was hard to attribute it to any current civilization, and her emerald green eyes were as eerie as they were beautiful.
I'd seen her scurry through some of the damndest holes and passages, her body seeming to unhinge in places allowing for that strange and unsettling supernatural movement. The cave was large enough for her to stand in, however, so she simply looked like an ivory statue with a burning brand of red hair. She had stopped, which usually meant trouble, and the six of us stopped behind her and held our breath.
She frowned, a confused look on her face, "I can go no further." She said tersely, and Beckett looked a little frustrated. "What do you mean? What is there garlic in there or something?" Dorsen slapped him in the arm and hissed something about minding his manners, but the ancient creature was too far removed from humanity to rise to such a simple jab. "I mean..." she said slowly, choosing her words carefully since she spoke so rarely. "I cannot pass this threshold. Not without an invitation."
Beckett didn't even seem to think about the implications of the information, he just laughed and walked ahead of her, something we had been told to never do. "Fine. I invite you, come in your high--" His mocking words cut off in a sharp scream as he was sucked into the black by something we never even saw. A rumbling voice let out a terrible, dry laughter, "Yes...come in."
She looked to each of us once and said tightly, "I will go no further."
I had never seen a vampire run. I didn't see one run this time, she was simply gone. Wisdom followed beauty. | Amille tapped on the invisible wall with her finger. "are you shitting me?" She sighed. Vampirism has its perks, super strength, sensory overloads, etc. but it's limitations are far more annoying.
The crew had passed on long ago, their patience was fragile and they frankly felt better far away from the bloodsucking monstrosity of their mothers folkstories. Though she trusted her companions, she could still hear them muttering behind her back
So, in despair and without hope, Amille von vinkenstein, transylvania's premier cave explorer, a woman of dignity and pride, flung herself at full sprint into the wall. Her regret was immediate and intense, blood splattered to the ground on both sides of the barrier but her body dropped like a sack of potatoes.
"Fine! Fuck it, I don't care anyway!" She shouted at her invisible foe. "Those stuck up Wallachian goatfuckers get the treasure but I have to sit outside like a good little bat!!?"
She let out a tear, the childhood insult stung, even when she said it. "What could be living in there anyway?!" She asked the barrier. Her answer came quickly, shouts and growls came from the tunnel ahead and her team's death cries echoed in her mind.
She stopped and looked forward with frustration, "You know what... keep it." She stumbled out of the cave with as much grace as she could muster and returned to the surface, the "heroic" lone survivor. | 2018-01-16T13:31:56 | 2018-01-16T10:54:22 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] You are not like the other wizards, you finally decoded what the spells mean in English, but you soon realise that they are written strangely. the spell for a fireball is "air burning" and the spell for flying is "dislike floor" | I listened intently down the silent hall, diligently alert for anything that might approach. I was on guard duty this week, as were many of my peers, as we had heard the dreaded Magician Assassin, Oleander, had been commissioned to kill the prince. He was sleeping soundly in the room behind me, and I was the last line of defense at his door. I had cast "Rafah Sout" (*Loudy Heary*) on my ears and could clearly hear the insignificant scrape of rat's nails in the walls. As well as the loud snores from the prince. Nothing sounded out of the ordinary, but I still felt uneasy. Oleander had a perfect record.
There was a clatter, three floors down. My body tensed as I listened to the commotion with my enhanced abilities.
"What's going on? Who are you?" my contemporary, Lorn, asked. His voice was followed by another thump on the ground. His heartbeat slowed. He was knocked out, some poison having entered his system.
Oleander was here.
My body tightened further and further as I heard body after body collapse to the ground. What was insane to me was that he had not cast a single spell in this time. He was clearly throwing something to knock out all the guards. And they were magicians! They should have had protective barriers! What's worse was that Oleander was also a magician! Who knew what kind of spells he had control over?
"*Soft Pillow Shield!* *Door close sharp!* Umm, *Crunchy crunch leaves!!*" I raced off protective spells frantically, summoning a new barrier, adding locks to the door, and summoning dead leaves into the hallway as my paranoia grew to new heights. The new barrier I'd summoned was typically shied away from, as it was visible, and clear where the weak points were when in an ongoing battle.
More bodies fell below, but I couldn't hear Oleander's footsteps! He had to have been on my floor by the sound of another magician hitting the stairs below.
I stared at the door at the end of the hall, eyes wide and heart booming in my ears like a drum marching me into battle. It was so unbearable, I had to remove my hearing enhancement as I was unable to hear anything else. I continued to peer to the other side, sweat slipping down my neck rapidly. The door hadn't budged an inch, as far as I could tell. It was still locked.
Suddenly, something sprouted from my outer barrier. A needle! I stared at it in shock as a drop of fluid spilled from its tiny tip harmlessly onto the floor.
The poison!
Another needle sprouted from the barrier. And another. Only after the third did I realize where they were being fired from. From the keyhole in the door at the end of the hall. To have such accuracy was unbelievable at a distance, and I could see how my peers could fall to this attack if they had only used the invisible shielding, it wasn't enough to block such fine projectiles.
The door finally budged as he tried to open it with a lockpick, but my additional locks had kept him out.
*"No more door!*" he cast, disintegrating the door. I could only see the top half of his body, a dark silhouette to its background. I couldn't read his expression.
"Back off Oleander! I know the ancient language! Leave now while you still have your life," I warned, but my voice cracked loudly during the last sentence.
He scoffed, amused.
*"Air go bye-bye!*" he cast, sucking the air out of my lungs.
"*Me breathe!*" I yelped with my last gasp, bringing the air back.
Oleander finally came into view. He was floating above the ground, sitting on a small cloud a few feet above the floor. He was sneering at me.
"You are familiar with many spells?" he smiled. "I assure you that your knowledge doesn't match my memorization."
"Translation!" I corrected.
"*Spicy body!*" he cast, not listening to me.
"*Impossiburn!*" I replied, again squealing as the end of a finger singed in fiery pain before my body became flame resistant.
"Who was your teacher?" he asked, finally impressed.
"The library downstairs mostly," I shrugged.
"Don't be cute!" he snapped. "*Sleepy sleepy night man!*"
"*Wakey wakey!*" I countered, a fog of fatigue entering and leaving my head in a moment.
"I see you know your spells and counters. But in my years of travels, I finally put enough together to invent one of my own!" he sneered. "Try this: *Brain melty from nose holes in agonizing pain!*" he shouted.
"*Don't um... melty brain!*" I shouted, cringing in fear. My brain remained in tact.
"How could you have possibly known a counter? I haven't even come up with a counter!" he shouted.
"Oh... well then," I pointed up to him as his eyes widened, realizing what he just admitted to, "*Brain melty from nose holes in agonizing pain!*" I cast.
"Noooooo!" he roared, tearing at his face as something spilled from his nose. He collapsed off his cloud, inert and brainless.
I stared at him for a few seconds in disbelief, not really accepting that I had somehow defeated the most notorious assassin almost unscathed. I took tiny steps toward him, planning to poke him to make sure he was dead.
"What's going on?" the prince asked, opening his door and rubbing his eyes.
"Ah!" I squealed, wheeling around rapidly. "*Sleepy sleepy night man!*" I shouted in fear.
The prince fell to the floor, breathing peacefully. I stared at him in fear of what he would do when he awoke with the memory.
I would need to come up with a memory loss spell by morning.
________________________
For more stories, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! | Every day I drink to the point that I can tolerate being around the fools around me. Not that I do.
Wizards? They are more like kittens playing around with yarn--it would be impossible to make them understand that what they're playing around with was not created solely for the purpose of their entertainment. As for me, I am different. I need to know where magic comes from, and I need to understand how it ended up in Stokacenor.
I uncork another bottle, swiggle it around a little to wake up its contents, and I gorge myself with its contents. If it doesn't burn, you aren't drinking. You have to throw yourself into it with wild abandon because that is how you must face all things if you are to become the greatest wizard the world has ever seen. The smash of the bottle against the wall is a lovely sound. "Sifieridum Maloceotris!" The shards of glass reassemble themselves, hovering up into the air; the reflected light from the moon is visible in them to my great delight. I clear my throat. "Chivborodum Magnisodesis!" A sweet glug, glug, glug as the bottle fills. A red delight! All mine! Wine is a wonder and an unlimited supply of it? It almost makes it worth it, having put up with those insufferable scrotums prancing about in the 'Academy.'
The bottle hovers towards me and I stick out my tongue but my eyes are fastened on the page of the book in front of me. It's an old one. I had to break out Tier 5 magic just to make it somewhat readable. But its contents are all knew to me. 'The Heroic Struggles of Durn Blurn,' said the title and I scratched my long beard for a long while before deciding to check it out. That is another of my fine qualities: I search where others have not. So I learn what others never will.
> Durn Blurn was once an eyelash drifting around in the emptiness of space. Eons earlier he had fallen from his brethren comprising the left brow of the great Sacter. Durn Blurn drifted, and drifted, and drifted, until he fell into a rift. That rift was a portal to Stokacenor.
I let drops of wine fall onto my tongue and I sip them up much like how a cat would. Sacter? The Initial Being? I have never heard this story before.
> Durn Blurn did not at first understand the world he had landed in. Where was all the magic?
A ripple of delight flashes through me. Now we're getting somewhere!
> "Magic not be in here place?" asked Durn Blurn. "But of reason why?" He eyelashed all through the realm, seeing strange sights, and he came to realize that he had ended up a magic-free pocket of existence. Durn Blurn decided he would change things. "Be magic," he said and Stokacenor was transformed. He thought for a long time before deciding on some spells. First, he invented Blogorandium Sifarilosi. "Upside time," he said.
... What? Blogorandium Sifarilosi is a Tier 3 levitation spell.
> Durn Blurn levitated across the realm until he stumbled on a little girl crying. "What tears about?" he wondered. He then saw a broken cup. Ah; entropy. A familiar scourge. Durn Blurn sagely created a spell to mend the problem, "Not broke." We know it better, of course, as Sifieridum Maloceotris.
This is strange stuff. For a moment I just stare at the pages. I turn my head to see that I have spilled my wine on the floor of my study. "Sifieridum Malo--"
It feels ... strange. This book cannot be true, can it? Am I supposed to be believe these great spells have stupid meanings like that? And they were invented by an ... eyelash?
I cast the spell and the wine slurps its way back into the bottle. I feel uneasy.
> Durn Blurn wanted to know about the problems of these strange creatures, so he created the spell Mifieroaenis Cilorefhax Bh'o. "Durn Blurn time," he said. Any creature wishing to consult him could do so using the spell. Durn Blurn felt very pleased with himself.
Maybe I would try it out, just as a joke? I looked around. No one's here. I opened my door. No one there either. I looked out the window. All clear. It's not silly if I'm just doing it as a joke. "Mifieroaenis Cilorefax Bh'o!"
As I expected, nothing happened. Of course. What was I thinking? This was just a book written for amusement, which was why no one but me had bothered to read it. I wasted my time with the most stupid things! Why didn't I just spend this day procrastinating instead?
"Durn Blurn time?"
The most hideous man I had ever laid my eyes on stood right before me. I screamed.
"No big ear sounds. Durn Blurn sensitive ears. Small sound better."
The grotesque creature before me ... Could it be? Was it truly ...?
"Durn Blurn book! Very of good reading." The man made a wild grimace and gave me two thumbs up. He laughed. "Shocked why so handsome?" The beast *pouted*. "Be so handsome spell," he explained.
"Chivborodum Magnisodesis!" I cried. I was going to need more wine. Much more wine.
TBC | 2022-05-04T19:10:40 | 2022-05-04T18:41:28 | 2,062 | 235 |
[WP] Both brothers stood over their sister Candice's grave. Sad and angry, Phineas turned to his bother and said, "Ferb, I know what we are going to do today..." | The Statement of Phineas Flynn
by
H.P. Lovecraft
It was in my 11th year that my constant cohort and step-brother Ferb Fletcher came to me graveside in our mutual grief over the death of our dearest sister, Candice, with the eldritch tome he had recently procured from the dusty stacks of Miskatonic University.
The book itself was unremarkable, save for the disquieting flaw in the leather cover that looked slightly like a face in agony. Ferb, laconic as ever, simply flipped the tome open upon the top of Candice's headstone and pointed to the phrase 'Sed morte morietur...' or "Even death may die...".
"Can it be?" I cried out, "Is this the Latin translation of the Mad Arab's work?"
"It is." my brother confirmed, "The *Necronomicon*."
I perused its pages and read the details of the ritual. Horrible in its implications, magnificent in its simplicity, the idea came to me. We would complete the ritual. We would bring Candice back. I would have my family whole again! I turned to Ferb and said, "Ferb, I know what we are going to do today..."
Ferb nodded, grimly, and we set out to find my dearest Isabella and her weirdly sisters, the Fireside Girls. After all, death cannot be defeated without the blood of the innocent....
| The grave glistened in the summer downpour. The golden inlayed message staring back at the brothers, the motif reading 'taken too soon, loving sister, beautiful soul" Ferb closed his eyes and reminisced, the drops of rain coating his ebony hair with a glimmering sheen. He tipped his head skyward and opened his eyes, tears and raindrops collided in a tango of melancholy reflection. He reached out his arm and rested his palm on his brothers shoulder
"Today Phineas, we finish what she started, we will show her the world she was robbed of, we will show her the highest peaks and the deepest oceans, through our souls and hearts she will never die"
The tumbling broth of grey clouds parted for an instant as the golden hue of the Suns rays illuminated the grave. The grass danced in the breeze and the moisture polished the field in a shade of elegant emerald. The brothers shared a passionate embrace swallowing their grief and began the long journey of replacing their loss, with pride. | 2016-07-05T16:23:53 | 2016-07-05T16:17:30 | 84 | 11 |
[WP] The job is simple. Every day at 8:34am you will get a phone call. You must answer before 2nd ring and write down the information given to you. On NO ACCOUNT must you engage in conversation with the caller. | **It's a short one, but here it goes:**
Everyday Jane woke up to the startling sound of her home telephone. Punctuality was the signature this women with strangely familiar voice had, and for some reason it amazed her in such an incomprehensible way that she made of it a routine; she didn't resist those phone calls, and she knew she shouldn't.
— Little Carl is three inches taller than last month. Mary got sick, but it's nothing serious. Don't forget this.
Then silence. Every message ended with that disturbing «don't forget this». She never got to fully understand that information, which seemed to be some kind of encrypted message she couldn't get a grasp on just yet. Her mind wandered through those words; uncomfortable mind, confusing thoughts.
After seven months her room was filled with mountains of paper, each with a message that seemed to have some sort of connection, but at the same time made no sense at all. She studied them, she became obsessed, each day.
This wonderful, inherent quality of life is its stubbornness. A bright light once shines with the intensity of a thousand suns, and time lets it go off little by little, even if it resists to all changes. Life is an expert at deceiving. You'll think it's about to turn off, to die, but like a firefly in trouble, it shines one more time in hopes of salvation.
---------------------------------------------
Michael, Jane's son, stood by the counter listening to one of her caretakers. He couldn't believe what her mother had done, and he saw, one more time, a glimpse of that smart, clever woman, shining once again in a darkness determined to take all over.
These pre-recorded messages her concious self made each time she could, were programmed to sound at 8:34 AM in her phone, and remind her of the life she had, the people she met... The things that, now, only existed in her mind, and Alzheimer's, stubborn as herself, was trying to take away.
**EDIT:** I had to write about this because it struck into my mind as soon as I read the title. Alzheimer's is one disease I fear a lot, and I extremely respect people who are going through it and those who support them.
But don't be sad. Really. Jane is, for me, a reminder that there's always a part of ourselves alive even when it seems to be gone. Makes me feel kind of better and prevents me from entering denial, hah.
(Oh, and I fixed a typo) | Craigslist came through for me again! The job is sinple, someone calls at 8:34am every day. I pick up, write down what they tell me, then text some schlub and tell him. I don't know What the guys running this operation are up to, probably drugs but what do I care? I got a debt to pay down.
DAY 1 : These fucks ain't real sociable. I tried to say hello to the caller and he cuts me off and says that if I do it again, I'll regret it. I was planning to give him a piece of my mind, but he just started spouting off the names of US Presidents. Harrison, Kennedy, Taft, yadda yadda. Then he just snapped END! and that was that. I sent the text to the number they gave me, but it returned un-sent.
DAY 2 : I swear to Christ this fucking guy. The fucker's voice just pierces me like a knife. I swear the back of my head hurts every time he speaks. Shit still came back unsent.
But hey, check just came, all $221 bucks.
DAY 3 : Weirdest shit happened today. I got a phone call this afternoon from the Georgetown Hotel to confirm my reservation. Except I never made one. I told them so but the lady just told me it was already paid for. I froze my card just to be safe.
DAY 4 : TAFT KENNEDY ROOSEVELT COOLIDGE JOHNSON UNDER THE SINK JOHNSON OBAMA JACKSON CLINTON TAFT RIYADH TO GEORGETOWN RIYADH TO GEORGETOWN KENNEDY 1:36 AM SOUND AND FURY.
DAY 5 : I am content. I am at peace. A trip to the bridge would be a pleasant excursionI am content. I am at peace. A trip to the bridge would be a pleasant excursion.
| 2015-10-07T21:42:24 | 2015-10-07T20:18:06 | 28 | 15 |
[WP] There's a knock on your door. You open it to see your favorite book character standing there. They say, "I know this may be a lot for you to take in right now, but you have to listen very carefully; You are my favorite book character, I know how your story ends, and I need to change it."
My first time posting here. Hope I did everything right! | I was pretty deep in denial to see my most beloved 16-year-old at my door. *Riordan, what the frick.* I was pretty confused and sure that somehow somebody had the mad idea to lace those brownies at the cafe with LSD and feed it to a 14-year-old . "Magnus, what in the Hellheim," I stated, not missing my chance to drop a reference. "Look, I know this is a lot for you to take in right now, but you gotta listen carefully. You're my favorite book character, I know how your story ends, and I need to change it. Fast."
"Wait-what. Lemme pull a UNO reverse card straight here, you're *my* favorite character!" I stated, pointing an accusing finger at him. "What?" he said in disbelief, and in those seconds I had never felt more meme-like. "There's no time for this!" He pushed past me, looking at the clock. 4:45. "Oh, no no no. We have to get ready *fast.*" He whipped his head towards me, taking my arm. "Get everything you can carry in a small backpack," he ordered walking me quickly towards my room. I obeyed, taking a backpack and shoving in clothes, my phone, a laptop and other precious sundry. Even a deck of UNO was shoved in. "Do you have a rock?" he asked quickly. "No, why?"
"We need to get a rock!" he said loudly, tromping through my house. He tried the back door to the yard, pulling on it in frustration. I nudged him aside, taking a key out from the shelf. "Hurry, hurry!" he said, sounding stressed and desperate. I shoved the key in, turned, and went out into the yard. He went around, looking through the dirt and plants for one. "Got it!" a rock was raised into the air in a triumphant fist. "Call your friends, we need them here earlier," he said, calmer now. I took out my phone and messaged the group chat with "get over here i found magnus chase". Some contemplation followed, then a "seriously gt over". I heard a whooshing noise, like lots of tiny marbles across hardwood. "It's time," Magnus said, looking up. "The Sand's here." | Looking into the eyes of the seemingly ordinary boy, i chuckled, it sounded crazy and it looks crazy to attempt to comprehend how any of it could happen or work yet it is happening, insanity may play it's part here but i shall entertain the thought of this being a reality, i look at his worried expression and ask "what if i want to fail?"
The boy shook his head quickly and shouted "your story hasn't begun yet! 'it' didn't happen yet!"
I looked at the boy in pure confusion but it makes sense, if he read a book about a boringly ordinary person then he'd never like it, what if..... something as big as world destruction will happen? if such a big event was happening and no one was aware of comparatively large scale dangers ahead then the casualties will be endless, but i, survived for some time before i died or failed to accomplish my goal and he came to fix that, very interesting indeed....
Looking at the boy more closely now i ask "then how do you plan to help me change my fate?" this dialogue might sound unnatural for anyone to accept madness directly thrown at your face but listening to someone is easier than making conclusions and denying everything
The boy's emerald-like eyes sparkled before he pointed at the sky and said "it's happening now!"
i looked at and saw the sky, it was cracking, the ground was shaking and last but not least, i felt sick to my stomach for corpses were floating up towards the sky and entering the cracks in the sky as some ant-sized dots fell down from afar, i tried to focus and see them closely until one of them fell in front of me
It was a monster, an inhuman being that had nothing but bloodlust in it's eyes and it was the size of my house, i was supposed to fight or escape from this thing? this has to be a joke..... | 2019-05-19T19:12:50 | 2019-05-19T18:32:26 | 278 | 42 |
[WP] You're a mimic. You were disguised as a chair in a dungeon when an adventurer decided to take you as loot. You've actually enjoyed your life ever since as furniture in a jolly tavern. So when some ruffians try to rob the now-elderly adventurer's business, you finally reveal yourself. | A Mimic, a creature that only seem to have one purpose, luring adventurers to their doom by mimicking a certain item such as a chest, a door, a wardrobe, well mostly chest. But here is a tale of a mimic who took form of a chair.
*I lived quite a boring life. Just keeping still and occasionally eating rats or occasionally raccoons within the old castle. I never ate adventurers because none of them even approached me.*
***"And here they are, two adventurers. I bet they are just gonna ignore me again"*** *I thought to myself.*
"Look Steven! Its a chair!" Said the young adventurer as she picked me up.
***"Wait what?"***
"I can see that Claire, please don't tell me you want to take that chair" said the other adventurer.
***"Wait what do I do now?"*** *This is the first time in centuries someone approached me, let alone pick me up!*
"Well, its a bit weird but I feel bad leaving it alone, I think we can give it another chance, please Steven? Pretty please?" She tried to show puppy eyes to the other adventurer.
"Okay fine, but you're carrying it" as he toss the loot sack over his shoulder.
"It's okay Mr. Chair, I'm going to take care of you" she smiled at me.
*So her name is Claire. Wait does she realize im a Mimic? I think I should play along as a chair for now.*
*It was the best decision I've ever made, she retired from adventuring after picking me up and opened up a tavern. My life was simple as I stared at many people come and go. I often let one sit on me and listened to their tales. Or hear the bards sing and play their instruments.*
*At night I mostly sneak to the kitchen and eat the trash and it tasted much better than eating rats and raccoons honestly. My life is perfect, she cleans me everyday and there are plenty of entertainment in here, heck the trash here taste really good, can't believe they throw these stuff away.*
*After a few years I made my decision, I shall be the guardian of this tavern. I watched as months go by, I have seen a lot of things. I eventually saw her fall in love and raised a family in the tavern. She would sit on me and sing lullaby to her child. Sometimes I caught myself humming along.*
Life was good until this very day.
A bunch of ruffians came in the tavern as we were closing up. I've seen troublemaker's before but this feels different, and I was right. As one of them sat on me I knew they were trouble.
One of the ruffian suddenly grabbed her daughter and started making demands. I wanted to do something but I didn't want to reveal myself.
The old lady and old man asked the ruffians to release their daughter but the ruffians just laughed at them. Soon I saw the leader of the ruffians just playing with his knife threatening my family.
The leader of the ruffians grab me and sits on me, and this guy not only have the nerve to threaten my family but now he sits the wrong way? That's when I snapped.
*My teeth pops out of the seat and the back post, in one swift motion, I clamped my jaws between his legs, he screamed in agony but I clamped even harder*
*The others stared in terror trying to process what is going on as their leader's balls is being torn off by a chair*
As much I wanted to continue munching on him I spat him out. He tasted gross.
"Shit! Thats a Mimic! Lets get outta here!" One of the ruffians yelled, they ran out while tripping on their own feet while trying to carry their wounded leader.
The tavern was a mess, but at least they ran empty handed but I can't say the same for myself. I look back at the frightened family, the old man clutching his daughter close to him and the old lady who just stared at me without breaking contact.
***"I guess this is it. They know I'm a Mimic and I cant stay here anymore"*** *I thought to myself*
*I look back and stared at the old lady one more time before forcing myself to start marching out the door*
Suddenly I heard a familiar sound, she was softly humming. I stopped and slowly turned around and hear her humming, it was the lullaby she used to sing for her daughter. I didn't realized it but I started humming as well.
She stood up and slowly walk towards me and kneeled in front of me. She slowly pat me and said "For some reason I always knew someone was watching over me, it was you wasn't it Mr. Chair?"
I simply slowly nodded.
"Well Mr. Chair, I think I have some leftovers, would you like some?" She smiled in front of me and for a brief moment I saw her younger self, the day she picked me up.
"Well" she stood up and starts walking to the kitchen "don't wait up!"
I quickly nodded and followed her. After all, this is my family now. | I grew up in the dark depths, a place where large hairy spiders sneak through the roof; a place where giant slugs inch themselves forward; a place where no child is found wandering, for long at least.
In a way I think I'm like them. My teeth are sharp like theirs. I find myself thinking vile thoughts every now and then. I get really worked up when a human comes close to me, less now then in the past, but I still feel it, that itch to just... be a monster, to destroy.
I don't want to be one. I want to be good. I want to have friends, people to laugh with, to hug, to argue and scream at. I want to go to sleep knowing that I did something good, that I was someone good.
I think back to my time in the dungeon. I was lonely. Isolated. I sat in the corner, completely still, driven crazy by my own thoughts. Each time a group of adventurer's came I'd take it out on them. The screams, the flesh, the fear kept me sane in a way.
I'm still in the corner, but instead of a dungeon I'm in a little tavern. I act the little chair in front of the piano. The one nobody uses except for the little kid that comes in around morning to fuddle a few notes and so. He's really progressed over the years. It's actually pleasant to hear him play now.
It's night now. The windows are black. It's turning a bit chilly. Scrubbing a glass, and whistling to himself, Roflo looks pleased; and tired, he always looks tired.
Today had been a long day of work, filled with many odd happenings. Earlier an odd man walked in. Fidgeting, and shaking, he stay to the topic nor sit still for more than a second. When Roflo told him to pay, he spat at Roflo. The other customers threw him out as he cursed how unfair the whole thing was.
The door opened, the bell rung, a figure glid into the room. It was the boy from before. He held a knife in his shaking hands, and he stared at Roflo. The cold air from the outside blew the candles out. It turned dark, only the eyes of the boy and the barkeeper shining.
"You fucking pig," the boy said, "it's your fault. People like you are the problem." He took a few steps forward. "I tried getting work. I tried but nobody would let me in, just cause I can't sit still. Now you punish me?"
"Boy, don't do anything stupid," Roflo said.
"Hahahha, I'll do as I please for once. You'll fell the pain I feel all the time, after I carve your face up. People will look at you as a monster as well."
*Monster.* The word made my heart jolt. My body heated up, became sweaty and uncomfortable. I had to move, I couldn't stand still. I stood up, the chair morphing, showing a large jaw in the middle, with a large tongue, and a row of spiky teeth. Two hands ticking out of my side. Their eyes shifted to me, the boy tumbling down on the floor.
"A m-mimic," the boy stuttured.
"How does it feel when someone calls you a monster?" I asked him, approaching him, his face growing white.
"How does it feel?" He repeated in chock. "It feels bad. It feels like I'm odd. Like I'm less then them. I just want to fit in. I just want to be a part of them. Why won't they give me a chance? Just one chance." Tears made the boys eyes wet.
I hugged him. My arms are cold, icy almost, and his are warm, but I still made sure to hug hard. He sobbed silently.
"Let it all out. Come with me. Follow me," I said leading him to the counter. I sat down on the chair, a chair sitting on a chair, and he sat down beside me. "Two beers Roflo."
"Stranger things have happened," he said and served us. "What're your names gentlemen?"
"Sylsus," the boy said between strained breaths.
"And you?" Roflo asked me.
"I don't have a name."
"Sticks. That'll be your name. What do you say about becoming this taverns guard?"
Maybe people see me as a monster. But you know what? Who says a monster doesn't deserve friends, love and a career; who says a spider or a slug doesn't want a cold beer after a long days work? | 2021-09-22T06:25:02 | 2021-09-22T01:56:32 | 58 | 35 |
[WP] You have the ability to see subtitles in your head for real conversations. You usually just use it to freak out your friends by finishing their sentences. But today you read an alarming conversation between two people trying to keep their conversation quiet. | "We're going to take care of her tonight. You don't have to worry about a thing." The words hovered over the man menacingly, as if the sentence itself would reach out an snuff out a human life.
I froze, my feet anchored to the ground as if held down by all the weight of a human life. The man was dressed in a tench coat, he looked Slavic, Russian maybe.
"No, she'll never know what hit her. 2100 hours, understood." The man dropped his hand from his ear, pocketing a cell phone. He glanced around, locking eyes with me for a moment. The man smiled, a long twisting scar running up the side of his face.
"Can I help you?" he asked in a thick Russian accent.
"Uh..N-n-no. Sorry," I stammered. I turned on my heel and walked away quickly—fleeing the crowded park as quickly as I could. I stopped when I rounded a corner, panting heavily from fear. His eyes were those of a killer—I'd been lucky to walk away still breathing.
I glanced around the corner, peaking my eyes out cautiously. I saw the words: "What a strange person." float above the man's head.
Ever since I was a young man, I had the ability to see what people were saying. The words were like subtitles, floating above people's heads. It didn't matter if they were speaking Sumerian, I'd be able to read what they said in perfect English. Despite how useful the ability sounded, it wasn't terribly useful for much. I couldn't work as a translator because I had no way to communicate with the foreign person, only translate to English. Honestly, I had just used it up til this moment to impress friends, as a party trick more than anything.
That is, until this very moment. I realized that this was it—this is what my ability was given to me for. I would save that woman. I would be a hero.
With resolve in my heart I watched the assassin until he stood from the park bench, ready to duck back around the corner if he somehow turned to look at me. When he finally stood, I crept out from my hiding place and began to follow.
As I stalked him, I picked up a newspaper from the ground. I held it loosely out in front of me, pretending to glance at the paper as I walked. The hitman stopped in at a flower boutique. I sat down at a nearby bench, my eyes blurring through an uninteresting article about pesticides and 'An immanent threat to the ecosystem'. As if anyone cared about bees, the nasty blighters.
The killer stepped out of the shop holding a bundle of flowers—probably concealing a silenced pistol—I'd seen the movies. I followed him after he walked about a block, watching in horror as he stepped into a chocolate shop. The bastard was certainly trying to buy poison to take her out, failing that he would shoot her with the concealed gun. I shook my head, still shocked at the drama unfolding before me.
I picked up a piece of broken rebar from the ground, rolling it into the newspaper. Forearmed, I continued to follow him for the next few hours. He made various stops in bakeries, a jewelry store, and even stopped to rent a tux. He looked like the picture of a Russian spy.
He hailed a cab, I got into one behind him. I followed him to a small venue for rent across town. He went inside, I waited outside for the better part of an hour. People walked in and out, carrying trays of food and decorations—he was obviously preparing his trap. When the last of his cronies left, I stalked up to the building. I could see his back was towards me, busying himself over a tray of food—probably poisoning it as I stood.
Carefully, I pulled the door open. I silently crept up to the man, letting the newspaper drop from the rebar in my hand. The lights had been dimmed, and I tripped slightly on a chair which had been left out. The man turned around, obviously startled.
"What? What are you doing here?" the assassin asked, managing to fake being scared.
"I'm not going to let you kill that woman!" I roared, charging forward.
"What? The fuck are you talking-" I cut him off with a heavy strike against his mouth. He dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. I gave him two more vicious thwacks before I stepped back, panting. I felt alive, strong, like the hero I was meant to be.
The door opened behind me, the lights turned on. A small group of people stood at the entrance, all dressed to the nines. They were all silent, taking in the scene before them.
"Don't worry, I took out the assassin," I panted.
A young woman walked up—probably the woman I saved—then she picked up speed, dropping to the side of the downed murderer.
"Demitri?" she sobbed. "Oh God, oh shit," she turned towards me. "You killed Demitri! You killed my brother!"
I looked around in confusion, then noticed several banners around the venue. 'Surprise! Happy ten years of marriage!'
"Well, shit," I said.
Turns out Demitri was putting together a last minute surprise party for his sister and brother in law. Honestly, I think I'm not really to blame. That conversation was super vague and definitely sounded like he was planning a murder.
The worst part is, I know exactly what everyone was saying about me when I arrived in the federal prison. As it turns out, I'm pretty.
_________________
/r/SirLemoncakes 1/71 Marathon posts.
*edit* I'll note that I do care about the bees. The character doesn't. I am not him. I also don't follow random Russians home and beat them to death. I'm glad that everyone shares a love of a vital part of the ecosystem, but I do not need pms telling me what a jerk I am. Cheers. | Jeremy walked into the Lonely Mountain, a bar he enjoyed frequenting. Despite his rather modest looks and skills, he'd developed quite a name for himself as The Psychic of Palo Alto. You see, at an early age, he realized that he could just quickly read the subtitles of what people were planning on saying which greatly helped him skip past the dull conversations of those who wanted to draw out their stories (in an effort to seem more interesting or important). When he first began doing this, he didn't understand the reaction he got from people... so he wanted to breeze through the conversation with someone; he had places to be so why should that be surprising. However, he soon realized nobody else even understood what he was referring to when he mentioned the text that would appear when people were going to say something.
Over the years he learned to avoid mentioning this ability to others in order to avoid strange questions and perplexed looks and instead subtly used this skill to give him an edge in life. He'd bet people he could complete their sentences, pick up when girls thought he was cute from across the room, guess which card people picked when randomly grabbing the cards from a deck (all they had to do, was tell a friend so that the audience could confirm that both people weren't lying). And he was always the first to hear of cool stories that occurred. A baby born with 3 heads technically siamese triplets. A car in the next street over that magically floated (obviously a pipe burst and the air pressure lifted the car, but it made for an awesome story anyway). He was always caught onto the coolest events before anyone else.
And Palo Alto, was perfect. The high income meant he made bank from his acts, and the large percent of college educated people meant that most people (too intelligent to be fooled) would reach the obvious conclusion that he was using slight of hand and gimmicks to get the answers. However all of this changed today.
*When Jeremy was at the bar, ordering his usual drink he noticed 2 people in the corner of the room whispering quietly to themselves.*
Todd: It's not that bad
Emil: What do you mean it's not that bad. This completely breaks the immersion, not to mention it's completely unbalanced.
Todd: It's not that big an issue, only a few accounts are affected, roughly 1/1385568.....
Emil: You're not accounting for the corruption to the data that occurs when accounts affected by the glitch show up. The physics engine is a nightmare trying to patch the various bugs that show up.
*Jeremy chuckled to himself. Game devs were a dime a dozen in this city. Everyone's pushing the next big game that will make them millions.*
Todd: Bugs occur in every release, most people just move on. Hell, most people just enjoy it.
Emil: They used to enjoy it. Many users are really getting frustrated given all the micro transactions that have been getting added. College tuition pack is up 10,000%, Rent is skyrocketing.
Todd: What about that update we pushed in the 2008 patch.
Emil: That caused major headaches since the in game economy was completely out of control. My point is, all the bugs and glitches used to be funny but now everything is out of control.
*Interesting, thought Jeremy. It seems to be a new Sim game. Well, it's about time someone challenged EA and revitalized the genre. Hmmm.... it might be worth picking up some stock in the company if it's advanced as these two devs seem to make it out to be*.
Todd: Can't we just patch it out?
Emil: not with the current engine. There was the floating car bug, the "moonwalk" bug, the clipping issue when new accounts were spawned causing the accounts to spawn in the same location (usually just breaking them).
*Hmmm.... why did that sound familiar. Odd, it's almost as if they were taking newspaper articles and adding those events to their game.*
Emil: I'm telling you, we need to purge all the accounts that can see subtitles and build the new game on a new engine. The glitches being caused are just too problematic.
*Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place. All the weird events he was always the first to hear of. The constant advantages he had growing up. The strange movement patterns of... who were they? Wow... he didn't even remember most of the names of those he interacted with. Jeremy knew what needed to happen. He rushed over to the table and joined the pair chatting.*
Jeremy: Hey guys, I couldn't help but overhear you talking. I know the game seems bugged but think about all the cool events that people get to witness. Different economies have cropped up and many people are having a wonderful time.
Emil: I appreciate you giving the kind compliments, but things really are getting out of hand.
Todd: I think Bob might actually be raising a good point here.
Jeremy: Woah... have you guys even considered the cost of creating a new engine? What if it's more broken than this one. Then you will end up in debt over it AND people will be madder.
Todd: Well what are we supposed to do?
Jeremy: It's all in the marketing. Repackage this engine and repeat after me... "It Just Works". | 2019-06-25T13:55:43 | 2019-06-25T13:45:41 | 168 | 36 |
[WP] The world is ending. A group of astrophysicists, xenobiologists, medical doctors, and other experts is loaded on a rocket. And you...but no one seems willing to tell you why. | I have no idea why they brought me along. I wasn't smart like mister higgleson. Insisted we call him "doctor higgs" or something. I call him ducky digs. But he was smart enough for whoever was putting the team together to overlook his need for a latte with a moon in the cream every morning. Astro-physics? He told me it's his job to make sure we don't break the ship too bad when we land.
Sure i only know that because I make the coffee every morning, and he's always thankful for it, but I could have trained a monkey to do that.
I wasn't so frugal of an engineer as miss malaney. Half the time she could take something apart and put it back together with less then half of the parts that went into the damn thing. Me I could hardly do it with spares. She liked to unwind at the end of the day with a mojito and a salad. I only know because I was the one assigned to making them.
She was always a little crabby just before it got time so i learned to get them ready before she was done working with the life-support units. I call all those important ones (which is all of them) life-support, cause really if we lose our water tank we're just as screwed as if we lose the O2.
I liked to think I knew animals, but there where pseudo-organic bits in our ship, mostly waste-processing and oxygen recycling I'm told. But i dont need to know about these things, bevause we have Hemant who's a molecular biologist. He taught me how to make curry just like his mom used to. It took three hours, but that's three more hours he could do his job.
Really, i think I should have been one of the ones that where frozen, waiting to colonize... Whatever rock we hit. Given my lack of skills, maybe i should have been left behind alltogether.
Oh well, no use jumping out of an airlock about it. Just gotta get to work on supper for everyone.
"Surprise!" The three scientists jumped out from the darkness of the kitchen, showering me in confetti.
"What the... Don't you have something more uhhh... Important to be doing?"
"Not really, honey." Miss malaney smiled softly "everything's purring like a kitten."
"Growth rates are in expected margins and come tomorrow we'll just have to shine some UV lights on the water and the first cycle will be complete. A week ahead of schedule too." Hemant smirked.
"I made dinner!" Doctor higgs proclaimed, taking a...rather less then apitizing... Stir-fry? Looks like he put it in a cold pan and brought the heat up, easy mistake to make, i did it a lot when i was learning to cook for myself.
We each took a couple bites before we decided to toss it in the bio-reactor and I made something a bit more palatable.
I made a few mixed drinks for everyone, after an admittedly failed attempt from Hemant and miss malaney both. We watched some old horror movies, my personal favorite, and just before they left they took a moment each to thank me for all my tireless work. I did do anything i could to help, but I didn't know much, so i tried to make up for it in other ways. "This old boat would fall apart without you." They promised
They made a card, and they all signed it. It stands on my mirror so I see it every morning. It gives me a little extra pep in my step I'm not afraid to admit. | *What I know, what we know could be changed in a second. This is what I learned...*
''I can’t wait anymore.'' one of the astrophysicists tries to open the hatch but the marines stop him immediately.
''Do I know you?'' someone touches my shoulder and I look back.
I try to recall her name first but she is faster than me, ''You are the guy who worked with Dr.Nicholas on FSI project.''
''Yes, I’m that guy.'' I say.
''I didn’t want to be rude but Dr.Nicholas was a very hard man to...''
''To work with?'' I complete her sentence.
''Yeah, kind of. Most of the colleagues didn’t have the greatest experience with him when they were working on the same project. I heard he wasn’t able to teach a class at the university because of his temper. Do you still in touch with his family?'' She asks.
''No. He was mostly focussed on his work. He didn’t speak of his family that much.''
''I see. Do you know anything about this?'' She points the marines guarding the door.
''I wish. One of the scientists said that we are going to K2-18B.''
''I seriously doubt that. That planet is very far away. At least 100 light-years away we wouldn’t able to get there in our life even with the light speed.''
I sense a small vibration.
''Did you feel that?'' I ask her.
''I think we took off.'' She replies.
The rest of the people gets anxious quite fast and marines start to neutralize a few people.
''I didn’t get your name by the way.''
''It’s Amanda.'' She says.
''Wait... You were...No way.''
''Yes, I’m the daughter of Dr.Nicholas. I first saw you when my dad got really sick and you had to call my mother. I had to drive my mother to the hospital to see him.''
''I remember now, you were wearing sunglasses and you didn’t speak much.''
''Yeah, I had some issues back then. I still have them but they don’t bother me as much.''
Marines leaves the room and they leave the door open. A few people instantly rush out and a moment later we hear someone scream in agony. A few moments later screaming stops and people inside the room tries to peek out of the door and one of them gets pulled out instantly.
As soon as people starts to panic lights goes and I start to hear bone-crushing noises.
''Amanda, are you still here?''
''Yes, I don’t know what to do.'' her voice is disturbingly calm.
I feel a sharp pain on my spine I try to move my arms but I can’t even get myself to move my fingers. I can only breathe and keep listening to other people screaming in pain. I try to speak to Amanda but every time I try to speak I run out of the air and I feel a heavy pain in my chest.
I feel someone is breathing in my right ear, ''My papa says hi.''
-----------------------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story- | 2020-07-16T12:44:38 | 2020-07-16T09:20:38 | 45 | 12 |
[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 | I pull my number from the machine that ranks us all. Shocked, I can't believe it, no one has ever had this number in all the books, movies, songs or anything. Putting away the ticket I ask people around if they had ever heard of someone having that number, careful not to reveal I had.
"Well, yeah someone has to be number 1. Can't say that I know anyone who pulled it though." Typical response. I can't believe it, I'm just a student, what was the chance of getting assigned #1. A pyrokinesis user blasts by, nearly knocking me over. I think I saw a ticket that said 998 in her hand. They're always using their powers to jet around, its a hazard and they never wear helmets. Oh well, if they get knocked out of the running then it just means someone else gets pushed up.
Dusting off my new pants, a nice middle aged man helps me up. "Damn pyros, lucky they don't burn the place down with how they fly."
"Thanks" I say, right as I notice the sign change from '999' to '001'.
A voice comes over the intercom, "Now serving deli customer one."
"Yes," I step forward, "I will take a quarter pound of chicken, a half pound of sliced honey ham, and some roast beef please." | It wasn't so much a power as it was a curse. Tell me how you would feel to die a million deaths. To wake up the day before the dominoes fell, the machination of reality that would end your life took place, and then some small nuance in the fabric of reality is altered to spare your life for a few more days, years, an eternity. Maybe your consciousness was somehow attached to every other version of you in a theoretical multiverse. Maybe history would simply rewind. You didn't understand how it worked, and felt no more in control than a rat on a wheel. At first it was truly an anguish lamentable, but over eons of human experience you've grown cold and accustomed to your own personal hell. The very world would bend itself minutely just to keep you alive, to keep you at the precipice, to keep you number one. | 2014-12-18T15:10:54 | 2014-12-18T12:57:51 | 164 | 10 |
[WP] The world of Avatar is real, only there are not 4 elements, there are 118. For every element on the periodic table there is a group of benders. You are one of them. | A long time ago it was believed there were only the four classical elements; earth, wind, fire, and water, each with their respective benders. Although unscientific, this primitive tribalism was serious cultural divide that resulted in many sectarian wars.
And then of course there were many people who were believed to be powerless. Often ignored, relegated to second-class citizens as industrialization happened. Even today after integration, there remains an implicit hierarchy in cities depending on what type of power you have. Fire benders have always been in demand, even an utter moron blessed at birth with firebending could spin a turbine to make electricity. Of course today we know they are oxygen benders, and combustion is a well-understood chemical process. Silicon benders, once known as earthbenders, are generally considered second in professional value. They’re ideal for construction, manufacturing, engineering, computers, and many other jobs. Nitrogen benders are not what they used to be, despite the mythos. Hydrogen bending, too, is largely considered useless. A far cry from its glory days in the ancient past.
This ranking has a lot to do with your future life, even though the government tries to require equal opportunity, everyone knows it’s a sham. Oxygen is just massively more useful than being able to bend, say, cobalt, or manganese. Iron is very useful, francium is so rare as to be a pointless quirk. That’s just how it’s always been.
Except in truth I’m not quirkless. Although it makes perfect sense that a few hundred years ago my ancestors like me would have seemed that way.
Because I am a plutonium bender. And in this day and age my identity, profession, even my mere existence, are state secrets of the highest possible classification. | "Hello everyone," I said, shifting uncomfortably in my chair. "My name is Thomas, and I don't know my element."
"Hello Thomas," the group chorused. I sighed and stared out at the circle of chairs wrought in an instant by an ironbender.
"It's... Hard for me sometimes," I said, looking away and running my fingers through my hair. "My dad got carbon, and my mom has hydrogen. I think they expected more from my sister and I. She ended up with einsteinium, so at least she knows."
The group leader reached out and placed a hand on my knee. "Thomas, thank you for sharing. We all know it doesn't happen often, but occasionally a person without the gift of bending can be born to two benders."
"I'm sure I am," I said confidently, looking the woman in the eye. "I've done the blood tests, the gene is there, we just don't know the element."
"My cousin what did get the bendin gene," said a helpful voice from across the circle "she done went and beome a sye-en-teest, what because she ended up with Californium. Is you a sye-en-teest?"
I stared ay my hands. "No, no I am not." | 2019-09-19T09:51:47 | 2019-09-19T08:41:14 | 204 | 49 |
[WP] The world is rapidly changing as the plague of our era is spreading fast. But it doesn't affect humans. It eats plastic. | They say that the original intent was to reduce tire yards to powder, developing a bacteria that could return the rubber to the ground in a green fashion. I don't know what tire yards are, or why they were a problem. Because there's none left.
The bacteria worked.
The problem originated with the lab that developed the bacteria, carefully using gene injecting viruses to meddle with mother nature's creations. What started off as beer fermentation aids gradually changed, moving step by step closer to the ultimate recyclable. But it evolved too fast, chewing though plastics that the lab never accounted for, and turning them into a single byproduct- methane.
None of the scientists survived the explosion. But then again, if any did, they would not have survived the following weeks.
The cloud of smoke and dust stretched out over a fifty mile radius, borne by the wind twice that far in the eastern direction and depositing the freshly created species. It landed on cars, the under bellies of planes, and the costs of passerbies. And it hitched a ride.
Hospitals were the first to go, sterility packs and sutures losing their integrity, clean rooms losing their pressure, biohazard bags dissolving into nothing. Then transportation fell, valves failing, instruments jamming, cheap car interiors disintegrating to nothing.
Personally, I remember my braces popping off my teeth, freshly installed at the ripe age of eight, the wires jumping out as the bands snapped. And I remember my last good pair of shoes, powdered down to the laces. Then there were the temperatures back then, so much colder, a brisk ninety five degrees on an average summer day.
But no longer.
Because now in our methane filled skies the sun burns hot, and powder is everywhere, in the air, crunching under our feet, in our lungs. Caking the sides of buildings that stand like shells, their interiors eroded away, their signage dissolved.
But there is good news, on this scorching day, as we taste powder and hide from the heat.
There are no tire yards.
***
If you enjoy sci fi, be sure to check out my running story, [The Bridge](https://leonardpetracci.com/the-bridge/)
By Leo. | "Are you sure?" asked the politician, barely masking his skepticism. It was simply too unlikely. Anyone who had the necessary technology to come up with this was among those who stood the worst to lose from it. "I'm positive", replied the young engineer, "it's definitely been designed on purpose. Whoever created this plague, knew what they were doing".
For last nine months they had tried. They tried to stop it, they tried to slow it down, they tried to create immune plastic variations. None of it worked. Slowly but surely the world's plastic was disappearing.
Some places had managed to create safe zones in the form of airtight underground facilities. Slowly the people followed the plastic under the earth. In small batches the population was screened for contamination and moved into the safe zones. What started out as military and high tech enclaves soon became entire cities. Unwilling to give up plastic, mankind was forced to give up everything else instead.
The grey-clad figure who walked into study room didn't display any urgency. He obviously had come to talk, assured in that it had all the time in the world. An unwitting observer might have ascribed the relaxed demeanor to its conversation partner being not terribly swift-footed either: The only other person in the room was sitting in a wheelchair, leafing through a book.
"In spite of all that power, creativity and self-assurance, you never even considered me in this. Why?" The question was directed at the wheelchair-bound reader. Sighing, the reader put the book aside, before answering."This is probably where I should say that I thought of you better than this, that I still had hope. But the truth is, I simply didn't see it coming. It didn't seem to have your handwriting and your personal involvement, Magneto."
| 2016-08-22T12:54:55 | 2016-08-22T12:11:11 | 482 | 40 |
[WP] Your job as a researcher in the facility isn't too bad. The hours are shit and the coffee maker is broken, but at least the people are nice. And the job is easy: talk to the telepathic spider, run some tests on the witch, give the eldrich god his daily newspaper, basic stuff. Describe your day
Inspired by the SCP foundation | "Morning newbie."
Three years. I've been working here for three *fucking* years and Caleb was still calling me a *newbie*.
"Morning," I muttered to the unsmiling man behind his desk. "Is the coffee machine fixed yet?"
"Morning newbie," he said again.
I frowned and looked at Caleb, his eyes are unfocused. I wasn't sure if he heard me - it didn't matter. I moved on, passing by more desks and people with stone-cold expressions on their faces. They ignored me and I ignored them in kind.
It was the way shit had to be here. We had to be cold. Uncompromising.
'*F-food... Food!*'
*Shit.*
I make my way to section C-18. After a maze of pristine white corridors and elevators, I arrive at SCP-3912. A telepathic spider peered at me from behind the glass.
'*W-what... took... long... Hungry! Will... devour... you!'*
"Sorry," I think aloud to the scratchy voice in my head, then begin tapping away on a control module. "What do you want today? There's rat, chicken, rabbit or-"
'*H-human!*'
"Sorry O, but human isn't on the menu today - Oh. What's this? There's a fresh born goat, your favorite!"
'*Hmph... Fine.*'
O hmphed me, but began unfurling its seven-foot long, spindly legs from its nest. A giant-hulking spider crawled into view. I exhale, a breath of relief that there was a massive glass wall between us. O could make a grown man scream like a little girl without even trying.
A baby goat, still wet with fresh-born fluids and blood was dispensed from a hole in the ceiling, dropping onto the floor with a wet splatter.
"Fresh-born as promised," I say to the spider but she ignored me, too occupied with her exquisite meal.
I give myself a pat on my shoulders. Next, SCP-1418.
Suddenly, I get a ping. I pull out the standard SCP Tablet and check the message.
'*Caleb from Section C-1 has been compromised. Please proceed to SCP-0009*,' I read.
For a moment I lose myself, frozen in thought. I had just seen Caleb this morning and he seemed *fine.* But what worried me more was... SCP-0009. I shivered as I remembered the rumors I've heard about him. We called him, the Eldritch God. Why? I didn't know. All we knew was what he said about himself - a physical manifestation of calamity, a being that would bring an end to everything in existence and that he was a being far older than humanity, and probably even time itself.
Suddenly, the tablet vibrates in my hand. Another ping.
This time the message was short.
*'ASAP,'* it read.
------
-----
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Em_pathy/comments/8eenri/the_eldritch_god_part_2/) complete! Check out my sub for more stories, /r/em_pathy
| You'd think the days would be worse, or at least the hours. I deal with the run\-of\-the\-mill tasks involving people who are, frankly, not that common, and normally, they hold very different hours. Take Ladriel and Fiora for example. Fiora is a witch, and she commonly prefers waking in the late afternoon and staying up all night, and she hates guests before midnight. Ladriel is a talkative little bugger and he's asleep at sundown. You'd imagine getting a talkative, telepathic spider and a witch to agree on something would be easy, what with the creepy connection they have. It isn't. I managed though. I talk to them both over coffee and whatever meal Ladriel happens to catch, usually late in the afternoon. They're my last stop for the day more often than not.
After the coffee and chit\-chat, I sit Fiora down, check her eyesight, make sure she's not getting too much light. She burns dreadfully easy. Don't know where the whole myth of water melting witches comes from though. She rather enjoys taking a bath, she tells me. I believe her too. She always smells so floral. Doing her work is frankly the most beuracratic part of my day, but fortunately it's not too invasive, and I think Fiora likes the company, too.
Oh, but I'm getting ahead of myself, I suppose I should've done this in order, really, with what I do upon first waking up. That's collect the paper. Not for myself, mind you, but Yog\-Sottoth is a big reader. Likes to know what's in for the day. He gets the Wall Street Journal and the Times. He used to get more, but he's slowly going digital. Pretty sure in the next couple of months he won't have any papers at all, just the subscriptions to read online.
After good, old Mr. S is John Cave. He's a lycanthrope and I constantly have to consult him over his alcohol problem. Since he's the only drinker, getting an AA going is hard to do, but he at least has access to the Internet and some online forums to help with it. Just needs a human touch every so often, though I admit giving him a shot or two of rum before his rabies shot every year.
And really, that's about everything. I hear we're getting a pixie and a pictsie within the next three months. I've been rather overinstructed to keep them apart from one another. Not only is it a major "chicken or the egg" case, but apparently they hate each other's guts and neither of them are none too nice. But at least only one flies, the other just hates clothes and lawyers. | 2018-04-23T10:13:49 | 2018-04-23T08:30:36 | 419 | 155 |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | "I don't care if you're the goddess of the sky. My uncle wants us over for Thanksgiving and it's been years since we've made it up to Wisconsin. Honey... Look..."
I sit down across from her on the couch.
"I can't say enough how much I and everyone else appreciate you fighting off the ravaging horde that came through that portal. And yes you singlehandedly stopped a tsunami that would have claimed thousands of lives in south east Asia. But uncle Bob doesn't have too many years left on this earth and I think he'd really like to see you again. I know you and he really bonded over you both being air force veterans. So could you do this for me? Cancun isn't going anywhere and Christmas is still open. But he'd really love to take us out and shoot some clay one last time....
...and if you are really worried about what they'll say about all this new stuff, just remember, Cousin Sue is bringing her boyfriend from college again and they've broken up 3 times in as many fiscal years so we've got a smokescreen if things get hairy." | “Why do you want a divorce?”
“I just don’t think this marriage is going to work anymore.”
“Why? Just because I’m actually a god. So what if I can never die because I don’t age, that’s means we can spend forever together.”
“Is not that.”
“Oh really, it’s because of the super strength, isn’t it. Honey, just because I can crush steel with my barehand and lift our house up with a finger doesn’t mean you need to fear me.”
“No.”
“What just cause I no longer need sex?”
“I’m asexual. I’m divorcing your because I’m the Devil from da bible.” | 2022-11-09T04:58:05 | 2022-11-09T04:11:20 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] When someone turns 18, they may use one adjective on themselves boost that part 10 fold. Strong, fast, smart, no one expects your adjective. | I stand to the side, a shadow amongst the crowd, waiting.
Everyday feels the same as it did in school growing up, ignored, passed over, just part of the background.
I watch as people walk by, I've observed enough to be able to tell what word they chose.
The ones who chose popular and their gangs of sychophants trailing behind them.
The grotesque bulging of muscles of those who chose strong.
The smart and their constant chatter to themselves as they wander across the city, their minds working too fast to be able to focus on any single thing.
Ah here's my time now.
I walk forward as the doors open, sliding in behind some one going inside.
I walk through the lobby, bypassing the metal detectors and follow my target into an elevator.
I stand to the side and wait, ignored by everyone as they enter and exit as their floors pass by.
My target exits and I follow, a few paces behind.
He walks to a door and scans a badge before pressing his thumb to a panel.
As the door opens I walk on Infront of him intent on getting past before the door can close me out but he stops at the opening.
"It seems I was the right choice for this job, perhaps a better choice than you were."
I turn stunned, he can't know I'm even here.
"We have known about you for months, I've seen you outside my home, seen you ride the same train as me, watched you as you stood outside this very building, waiting for a way to get inside."
"You see, I am "perceptive", I notice everything. That is why I am employed here. And I know about you. You aren't the first person to choose the word "nonentity" even though that's is typically not a valid choice."
"And now that you have made it this far into this secure facility you have proven yourself, the CIA would like to offer you a job, pleas have a seat." | The Device did something different for everyone, and it was a known quantity that it was unpredictable. Most people use adjectives, but sometimes other words would work, verbs or simple utterances of feeling. The technicians said it was something about amplifying the latent psychic ability each human had and imprinting them onto our bodies, thus bringing forwards abilities previously only written about in fantasy books.
People loved the results, mostly, but it was the norm for most to bring out their best attributes.
Except me. I knew I would bring out my worst, my most violent.
I had been damaged.
Long before I entered The Device.
Some monsters are just people with access, I had learned that like many other children in this world at too early an age, and like many I felt broken.
I didnt seek to be fixed, I knew what I wanted when I entered the facility, I knew what word I would imprint onto my being. I barely paid attention to the instructions, glazed over as the techs explained how it only works once, and is irreversible. All I could focus on was my heartbeat pounding in my skull as I approached The Device.
It looked like a reactor, or a particle accellerator, full of superconductors and beam emitters, sensors and probes.
I am directed towards a platform and a screen illuminates in front of me, a sound like a turbine starting begins to fill the room. The screen flashes a single word: *Speak*
And I answer:
"*Retribution*" | 2022-01-02T04:00:48 | 2022-01-02T02:40:19 | 56 | 34 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | "The human home fleet has dropped out of warp. We have achieved total surprise. Attack position in 5 units."
By rights, Pursuit Leader Meleet thought, she ought to be gratified by the news. The scene on her repeater screen was, after all, the stuff of fantasies for any green-blooded war-sphere officer. The last of the enemy's ships, speeding towards the waiting guns that would be their doom, not a shield up or decoy deployed, nor a single iota of thrust diverted into the chaotic evasive maneuvers that had driven her targeting crews to distraction on so many occasions? By rights, her crew should be knelt at her hooves, competing to have her sire their litter while the auto-targeters cleaned up the rabble outside. Not that she would take any of them up, of course. A victory such as that would be irresistible to the golden-haired Pack Leader back at Centieth Base...
By rights. Instead, she and her crew were strapped in, at full War readiness, with the bridge sealed off from the rest of the ship, triple guards posted on every entrance and vent, full vacuum gear on, and the disgusting black repellent the spies had retrieved smeared behind their ears. Supported by the largest single concentration of firepower the galaxy had ever witnessed. And still, she couldn't help the itching feeling between her shoulder blades.
"Acknowledged." The Rigelian turned to the figure sitting stiffly behind and to her right. "Arcteros. The checklist."
"As you wish, Pursuit Leader." Her second-in-command scrolled his datapad and cleared his throat, managing to almost completely disguise the nervous whinny.
"Thus far we have seen no evidence of long-range kinetic weaponry, missiles, laser or other energy weapons, drifting explosives, pockets of combustible gas, novel employment of adhesives, sudden flash flooding, distress calls legitimate or faked, waste recycling plant malfunctions, 'ninja', derogatory messages entreating us to perform the mating ritual with our sires, the celestial body referred to as 'Comet McCometface', localised time disruptions, mirror-universe counterparts, anything produced by 'Bad Dragon', infiltration by any of the Terran flora and fauna catalogued in appendices 77 through 63083, any member of a 'LARP', mimes, the 'brown note', pineapples, excessive amounts of addictive substances, bladed weapons larger than their wielder, boxes that are larger on the inside than the outside, 97.3 FM Country Music 24/7, attempts to engage fleet members in 'vodka butt chugging', sapient planets, psychically gifted children, suspiciously inviting open boxes labelled 'Secret To Defeating The Humans'..." There was a short pause as he waited for the next page to load.
Meleet winced. She still couldn't figure out just *how* that last one had worked so well. Did the humans emit some kind of intelligence-absorbing field? Best ask the Pack's scientists when she returned. Obviously, the shielding wasn't thick enough.
"Enough. Give me the summary. Do we see any of their schemes in evidence here?" Irritation flared as she mentally catalogued the list of indignities the never-to-be-sufficiently-damned humans had inflicted on her. On all of them.
"No, Pursuit Leader. They are just...flying at us. Quickly." A panel chimed, and Arcteros looked down. "...Very quickly. Speed increasing. .8 of cee and climbing... 2 units until intercept." He frowned. "Sensors show them as gunboats and destroyers. No ships of the line."
Her heart caught in her throat. "R-repeat that last."
"Pursuit Leader?" The war-sphere's Second looked at his First, who had just turned a very odd shade of green.
"Arcteros." She spoke slowly, with an iron grip on her voice. "The last, beaten remnants of the humans are, at this moment, flying toward a fleet they have no hope of defeating, in their weakest ships besides, and they are *accelerating*. What are the odds of them winning?"
With trembling limbs he keyed the question into the tac-comp. It took mere microseconds for the answer to be returned.
"A...a...million to one."
They stared at each other for a moment eternal, saw it in each other's eyes as they screamed in unison.
"ABOOOOOORT!" | "Commander Trill? They're back at it."
The commander's stomach dropped when he heard his secretary's slightly muffled voice. "I'm sorry, can you repeat? Who's back at what?"
There was a pause. Trill crossed his fingers, a stupid human superstition which had spread like the plague. Maybe, just maybe-
"You know perfectly well who and what I mean, Trill, sir."
The Orakon sighed in defeat, nearly crumpling onto his desk. Yes. Olaos was right. He knew perfectly what and who.
"Just... Just let him in already..." He muttered before straightening up and trying to not look entirely depressed.
It only took a few minutes before he heard the rather loud and obnoxious heel click and foorsteps in the hallway. 'Here we go again...' he thought, and one could've sworn a tear slid down his cheek.
"Trill! How are you?!" Daveson, one of the human's representative, tried to sound cheery. Trill already had his face in his clawed hands. "Please just sit down." He mumbled.
Daveson and his partner (in crime, as far as Trill was concerned), Alma, sat down in front of the huge desk. A few more seconds passed before the commander finally slowly looked up.
"You know the reason for which you're both here today." The pair nodded. "Good. Then let me ask just one question." The two stilled. "Why." Trill looked so truthfully and deeply confused and desperate that Daveson couldn't do much more than give him a quirky grimace trying to pass for a grin.
"Trill, listen-"
"No, you listen. Listen to this." He quickly pulled out the mail which he had scanned on their way to his office. "12 dead, 40 in cryogenic sleep. Daveson, why?"
"It's actually quite a funny story-"
"And it doesn't end there! We all wish it did, of course, but no, no... Daveson, listen to this."
"Trill-"
"40 destroyed structures. Of which 3 were from outer galaxy governments."
"I know it sounds bad-"
"I just want to know... Just.... Daveson, please, please just tell me... Why?"
This time around, Daveson didn't answer. He just stared down at his hands like a scolded child. Trill turned to Alma and gave her a look.
"It has to do with racism, commander.."
"What? I thought you'd abolished race centuries ago?"
"We did too, except there was this hair counting machine..."
"Hair counting machine."
"Yes, and someone found a so said scientific study on the correlation of hair number and race... Depending on if the number of hairs is an even number, odd nunber, multiple of seven, etcetera. A few radical groups took it to heart, sorted themselves out by so called race, found an experimental bomb, and..."
"Would you like to know something, Alma?"
"Y-yes, Commander Trill?"
"It's the 17th time this year you've been here. And between this time and the last three, not a single other species was sent to me for this kind of issues."
"That sure is... Uh..."
"Yes. Exactly as you say." With a bleary look at them, Trill turned on his glasses. "I don't believe you have any... Excuses?" Silence. "Very well then. My job here is done then. You may go."
Alma and Daveson shuffled out much more quietly than they had pranced in. Trill finished typing up a report and sending it down to Olaos.
"Thank you, sir." Said the secretary.
"Do you think they'll ever learn, Olaos?"
Olaos seemed to think for a moment.
"I sure hope so."
"We all do..." | 2017-03-06T01:05:30 | 2017-03-05T22:26:51 | 115 | 46 |
[WP] A writer, trapped in his own book, regrets not writing more intresting female characters | I had always had a talent for writing strong male characters. Even as I sit here in the coffee shop I modeled off of one I saw in New Orleans once, staring across the way at my creation, I have to admire that one talent of mine. Roger was a fantastic character.
He was witty, intelligent, sympathetic but still strong. When I wrote him, I think I was trying to emulate some form of James Dean, with the suave way he made everyone he spoke to feel important. He had hobbies, interests, favourite books. I think I'd even written him a detailed back story that never made it into the final draft of the novel. Too sad, my editor said.
I had written Roger as a tragic hero in this dark comedy. He was supposed to be flawed, and his fatal flaw was being too trusting. So of course, every other character in the novel I had written as a sleazeball.
Women gaining his trust, only to dash his hopes of a happy ending. His boss took advantage of him and made him work hours and hours. Right now, he was sitting with his daughter from a previous marriage, and she was trying to talk him out of money. Inevitably, he would give it to her. That's the kind of guy that Roger was.
But the sad part about Roger, for me at least, was that he cried out for love. He never found it in the novel- that was the whole point. It wasn't something I wrote in the cards for him. And so I made every potential suitor a horrible representation of what women could be. I was fresh off a break-up with my last girlfriend. To me, all women were monsters, barely hiding their fangs. So I gave Roger the same options.
Now, I had tried more than once to date these women. But the absolute worst part was one little line I had put in the third chapter, trying to differentiate the novel from my own life.
Every women I had ever written was straighter than an arrow. And I was the only lesbian. | This story was never anything serious. My inspiration escaped me after all of nine pages, all sloppily written. My life is a loop now. A measly three hours of setting the scene to a story I had no intention of finishing.
I had at first hoped to intervene in the protagonist's beginning mishap. He was to spend the rest of the novel fighting his way out their captivity, all while maintaining some small shred of his original humanity. But no matter how I try, he always falls for them. It is his wont and now I share it.
We are partners in humiliation and pain, left to suffer at the whims of three modern day sirens. Our captors could only be described as walking, talking trash. I did create them to be moderately attractive, sure, but entirely monstrous, almost diabolical in their motives. Exploring my fantasies was all I ever intended. I did not expect to live them.
They have me and my protagonist tied together in the sixty-nine position. All I do is wait for the loop to reset. I hadn't written in the sex yet. If I had gotten to it, my protagonist would have played a game of psychological cat and mouse with the younger, more awkward and runty of our captors. It would have led to a month or so of regular visits of a conjugal and semi consensual nature. If only I made one of these girls a little sweeter or a bit more human. Instead they are foul and predictable.
The worst part of it all? Having my head in another guys crotch is the most intimate interaction I've had with another person in months. | 2015-08-20T12:59:27 | 2015-08-20T11:50:51 | 58 | 13 |
[WP] You're the clichéd high-school super hero who has to balance heroics and school life. One day, you rescue your love interest while on super hero duty, when suddenly she starts talking about your alter-ego. You decide to stay and talk with her as a to see what she thinks of you at school. | She had told me which building she lived in: the brownstone, slightly taller than the others on 66th, vines snaking up the front. My mind was half on finding it, half on her conversation, slightly muffled over the sound of the wind. Her face was right by my ear and I could smell her hair - coconuts and honey. It was dark and silky, tickling my left side in the wind despite it being secured in a ponytail as we coasted up Broadway.
"You know, you kind of remind me of this kid from school." She said. Fear shot through me like a needle.
"Really?" I asked lightly.
She grimaced. "Yyyyeah."
I gave her a little smirk. Did she mean me? What did she really think about me?
She ducked her head. "I'm sorry. Yeah. He's this guy, Noah, he's in my stream. We're in AP Chem, Bio, Spanish and History together."
"That's a lot." I commented. She did mean me. Oh god. Oh no.
"It is. I see him, like...every day."
"You sound like..." I couldn't finish what I was going to say. We passed Columbus Circle. People pointed up, took pictures. Just a few more blocks to go.
She scoffed lightly. Her face was flushed underneath her skin. I couldn't meet her eyes. Finally, she said, "He pisses me off."
My stomach dropped. I felt like I was falling. "Wha-why?" I stammered.
She groaned. "He always ruins the curve! I bust my ass to make myself the best in the class, get that 4.0, you know, get into one of those Ivies, you know what I mean! But he's always there, doing better than me. He has these crazy green eyes, kind of..." She looked away. "Kind of like yours. And whenever we get our tests back, he looks at me and gets this face on, like he beat me." She clenched her fists. "My friend told me he has a 4.3."
Oh jeez. Oh jeez. What was I going to do? My brain was scrambled, fried, broiled, I didn't know what to say. "You...sound pretty competitive with this guy." I stammered. Shit shit shit! What was that?
We coasted over 66th and we landed on the stairs of her brownstone. I set her down.
Her hand lingered on my shoulder. My heart was pounding.
"I am." She said. "It's hard, you know? I'm putting myself through college, so I need those scholarships." She gestured around. "This isn't even my house. It's my aunt's. I don't live with my parents anymore, they're...well, you could say they're not the best people." Suddenly, I felt a pang of guilt. After this, I would be going home to my parents and my siblings and my dog, in Washington Heights, where we'd have dinner and talk about our days.
I looked around. It was late winter, and the sun was still setting before seven. Already, the sky was streaked with orange and pink.
"In any case," She continued, "this kid, he doesn't really say anything to me at all, just *stares*. I want to ask him for help, but..." Her voice trailed off.
"I'm sure he'd be glad to offer it." I said. She looked up at me, and her eyes in the sunset were light brown. Her face shifted, and I knew that she knew. Silently, she nodded, squeezed my shoulder, and walked towards the door. | Hey, my name is Jace, but most people know me as 'Jump Set.' I didn't really get to choose my own name. That was the media. It doesn't even make sense. I don't jump or set. I'm not quite sure how my power works, but I can make small balls of energy that kinda eat other things. I just do what's right when I'm not at school.
There was a holdup at the mall, some dude swinging a gun in a jewelry store. I saved a girl. Well not just a girl. The girl. Sam. The girl I've been crushing on since sixth grade. I offered to walk her home after everything went down. An the walk she said she didn't want go home. I offered her coffee at my 'hideout.' An old, rusting train car discarded in an old, rusting junkyard. After a few minutes she said something.
"You kinda remind me of a kid I know. His name's Jace." She shakes her head, "Sorry, you dont want to know 'bout my problems"
"A good hero listens to others problems." I say as I sit down across from her in the abandoned railcar. "B'sides, it'll help you calm down. I know how it feels to have a gun pointed at you." I say with a smile under my mask. In truth, I am terrified. Sam is the one. Tall, long platinum hair, a round cute face with a little nose and full lips. Big green eyes. "This Jace dude a good guy or...?"
"He... Is weird." She says. Ouch. "But a good kind of weird. Kinda awekward too," yeah that's why I ware the mask. "He's cute but, I dont think he likes me at all." She says with a small huff. Then it's silence. My face must be beet red under this mask.
"Maybe he's just shy?" I ask trying to be 'Jump Set' and not Jace.
"Oh he is defiantly shy, but there's more to it than that. I've asked him out, like, a lot." When? I dont remember her ever asking me out. "But he always dodges it and says something like 'Next Time' or 'I have to run some errands for my grandma' and... I dunno. I'm thinking about giving up on it. Not trying anymore." Oh yeah... Oh no. Being Jump Set takes up so much of my free time. I come here, I make some coffee, I listen to the radio scanner till something happens, then I go home. I have to. What if Jump Set isn't there when he needs to be? God I'm such an Idiot. I realize she's looking at me for advice. Advice from me, about me.
"Ask him one more time." I say, " give it one more shot. Maybe he really did plan on a 'next time' but keeps winding up wrapped up in something else. If he says no again, take that as it is and move on." If I'm too busy being Jump Set, then I'll just wind up hurting her. If I say no again, I'll have to move on too.
(On mobile so, crammer and spelling will probably be jacked.)
| 2017-06-20T11:44:34 | 2017-06-20T11:20:46 | 63 | 21 |
[WP] In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war. | "How many of them, Jennings?"
"Twenty-four on sensors now, Captain."
Captain Randolph of the United Earth Exploration Ship *Everest* scratched his chin. This was not how his colony protection detail was supposed to start. He and his light cruiser had been ordered to the new colony of Armana after sensor stations had picked up multiple anomalies near the colony. A task force was being assembled to provide permanent security, but as the closest ship to the colony, *Everest* had arrived first and was on her own.
"Ensign Lao, what can you tell me about these ships?"
"Not much, sir," the sensor operator replied. "We're estimating 6 battleship-class vessels, 12 frigate-class, and 6 heavy cruiser-class enemies."
"Weapons?"
"From what we can tell, sir, hull-mounted laser weapons and tubes for either missiles or torpedoes of some kind."
Randolph scratched his chin again. The *Everest* was very well armed for a light cruiser, sporting 60 5-pounder railguns on each side of the ship. It also boasted 84 *Hatchet* class missile tubes. But since humans tend to over-prepare, the ship was also fitted with one hull-mounted Mass Cannon, which would fire a 500 pound tungsten slug at several thousand miles-per-hour.
"Have the ships responded to our hails, Jennings?"
"Captain!" Lao interjected before Jennings could respond. "Sensors picking up energy spikes! Laser weapons charging!"
"All hands battle stations! And brace for impact! This is not a drill!"
The entire bridge crew could see the view screen as it was enveloped by a blinding flash of red light. The ship shuddered slightly.
"Damage report!"
"Direct hit, Captain! No hull breaches, no significant damage detected!"
Now Captain Randolph was pissed. Those alien bastards *dared* to shoot at them?
"All guns, prepare to fire! Broadside guns, focus on the smaller ships! Mass Cannon, focus fire on the battleships! Ready missiles!"
In less than 20 seconds, all weapon stations had signaled to the bridge that they were ready.
"Mass Cannon, FIRE!"
*Everest* shuddered as the 500 pound slug left the barrel of the cannon. The bridge waited for impact, watching the view screen, scarcely anyone even breathing. The slug impacted the lead battleship, ripping through its armor and continuing through the massive ship.
"Direct hit, Captain! Ripped through her bow to stern!"
"All stations, fire at will!"
Captain Randolph watched the screens as volley after volley of high-velocity death rained down on the enemy force. Within minutes the shells had shredded 20 of the 24 alien vessels, destroying most of them outright. The final few that were still operational turned and jumped to light speed, obviously eager to get away from the destruction the *Everest* had thrown at them.
"No more contacts, Captain! Sensing life signs in 2 enemy ships."
"Lieutenant Jennings, have Colonel Puller take 2 of his battalions of Marines and board those ships. Pacify whatever is on board and bring survivors back to the *Everest*. Ensign Lao, contact the Admiralty Board on Earth."
"What should I tell them, Captain?" Lao asked.
"Tell them we have first contact and first hostilities. I'll take the conversation in my quarters." | My team moved into position, Everyone in full cover, in a firing line. Mortar cannons, BFG 10000s enough firepower to make the entirety of america say "nice" in unison all pointed at a singular 100 meter by 100 meter patch of space.
And then the music started...
A few months ago, first contact was made, a small scared little thing that warned the world that a threat was coming, and it brought proof. Recordings of the fleet in battle, they would shine their lights, play their songs, point their guns and wait for the target to surrender.
Every time they never actually fired their weapons, we all assumed that they had such a reputation that they didn't need to. That was until we did our own scouting. With how gaudy their whole race was we were able to easily sneak in and gather intel. The spies came back laughing.
"They're completely fucking hollow mate!" they wheezed out between strained, hearty laughs.
"No no there isn't a weapon in ANY of those turrets I checked, here's the pictures if you don't believe me" One of the spies managed to squeeze out between fits of laughter.
He was right.
So that brings us to today, these pompous smug bastards would get what's coming to them.
Their leader and his *Sigh...* *accompanying orchestra of 100* Descends from their tacky golden ships that looked more like cruise ships then anything fit for interstellar travel.
They tap their scepter on the ground and take a breath in ready to proclaim this world as their own. Only to have the percent amount of projectiles currently occupying their bodies to rise higher then the average core temp of a star going supernove counted in kelvin.
&#x200B;
A few weeks later we started receiving transmissions from several other races, all formerly enslaved by our newly defeated enemies turned sycophantic worshipers. Honestly it's kind of disturbing we're trying to educate them on the whole "basic human decency" thing but it's not going well. We might have to try adopting the children out to human families soon... Oh right the transmissions
The transmissions were mostly of praise and thanks, though some tried to act tough, we've yet to receive a message back after we sent them a video of the slaughter.
The more peaceful races we invited to Earth as guests, they actually helped us alot with managing planet wide food production, more just making REALLY efficient transport systems that don't destroy produce during the trip.
But yeah I think that's everything bye for now son, hope this helps with your history project. Best put my name and such for if this changelog ever becomes a historical document.
Signed - Sir Jarreth Playnar, FORMER lieutenant of the Aetharan army, founder and current owner of Playnar Home Entertainments. | 2020-03-21T10:25:30 | 2020-03-21T10:24:14 | 52 | 22 |
[WP] You're mindlessly scrolling through random subreddits when you find a subreddit filled with photos of you at different hours of the day, explanations of all your activities, people discussing what life decisions you'll take. Confused, you notice a new post titled: "We've been found!" | In the Chess world, a "Centaur" is a human player, working with an AI to map out and predict the most effective moves at any given turn. The AI shows you all your options and the human player makes the decision on what options to take.
"No. Fucking. Way." My voice bounced off the metal walls of the tiny guard shack. Posts like "Sushi for dinner? Falling off his diet again." And "He slept like shit last night." As well as photos of me at work, at home, out and about town, and one of the back of my head in the bathroom.
Intense curiosity superceded the fear and feeling of being observed while I hit Sort by New. All posts disappeared save for a single pinned post. "We've been discovered!" The replies were frenzied speculation about what was next and how to hide the sub better.
"Go about your business." I'm not sure why i replied but i hadn't come to harm yet, and some of the other Redditors had some pretty insightful posts. Why not see where this was going? |
Scroll scroll the reddit deeps see the pictures taken by creeps
See me both young and old on r/Rix-pics and if your not sold post my nudes be sure to get gold!
Scroll Scroll the reddit deeps gasp the pictures taken by creeps,
Oh what's the matter all these pictures left my mind in a splatter
Scroll scroll the reddit deeps see the pictures taken by creeps,
Oh how weird you thought in your head pictures of you counting sheep in your bed.
Scroll scroll the reddit deeps see the pictures taken by creeps,
Sort by new make the rounds see the post we've been found... | 2020-06-30T09:41:54 | 2020-06-30T09:04:49 | 194 | 30 |
[WP] Instead of piggy banks, children have "dragon banks" that they keep in hopes of attracting a small dragon. | Dragons are not real, as Tanner's parents had explained, when he was old enough to understand. At least, not in the way that Tanner, his parents, and old Mrs. Baker down the road were real.
At first, Tanner was outraged. If dragons were not real, he had demanded, why had his parents given him a traditional dragon bank for his birthday three years past, and encouraged him to deposit his spending money in it, in the hopes of attracting one? He had even sought out extra work and chores to swell his tiny hoard of coins, when he could otherwise have been playing with his friends.
The gentle deception had been for his own good, they insisted. Dragons, they explained, were fanciful inventions of Tanner's superstitious ancestors, and in that sense, they were not real.
However, as metaphors for wisdom, wealth, and long life, dragons were very real. By working to earn money for to fill his little fired-clay bank - made in the traditional shape of a miniature dais where a dragon hatchling could ostensibly rest, and etched with nonsensical symbols that were claimed to be dragon-runes -- Tanner had developed habits of hard work and thriftiness that would, ultimately, make him wiser, wealthier, and healthier.
So, according to his parents, he had, in a sense, attracted a dragon as they'd promised. Not one that was a literal being, of course, but one that was a part of his own character and personality -- and that "dragon", mother and father assured him, would serve him well all his days.
He gradually came to accept the benevolent nature of the deception. While other boys his age never had more than two coins to rub together, Tanner had saved a tidy sum. Another summer or two of odd jobs, and he could afford his own riding horse. Grudgingly, he accepted the wisdom of his parents' charade, and the fundamental unreality if dragons as anything but an object lesson.
Which is why he was surprised to come home one evening, after helping Farmer Greene bring in the pumpkin crop for two silver pennies, and discover his clay bank smashed to pieces on the rough oak table beside his bed.
This outrage would have consumed his attention utterly, were it not for the cat-sized winged reptile curled up among the scattered clay shards, resting atop his carefully hoarded coins.
Though tiny, it was among the most regal creatures he had ever seen. It was graced with a slender, triangular head, a sinuous tail, delicate membranous wings, and golden scales that caught the flickering light of the gas lamp on his wall, and sparkled in a way that far outshone the meager pile of coins it perched on. It regarded him with large, emerald-green eyes as he stared, and then, after a moment, it spoke.
"This hoard is sufficient." it announced, in a high chirping voice. "Enough for me to accept your written offer of a pact, anyway. Not that I'm spoiled for choice."
It delicately picked up a tiny shard of clay from the broken bank between two claws, and then threw it at him. He could only stare dumbly as it bounced off his forehead.
"The accomodations, not so much." the little dragon sneered, derisively. "I'm a dragon, not a mouse!" | I suppose, in a way, it's my fault. The whole 'dragon bank' thing. You see, about two years ago, I founded the ["Dragon Friendship Fund"](/r/SpinningStories/comments/fyugtn/dragon_friendship_fund/). Ever since, the fund has grown by leaps and bounds. It's been a boon to every person fortunate enough to have a good friend who happens to be a shoulder dragon. No more worry that he'll suddenly grow to the size of a house. No more worries about keeping a job when your boss is an anti-dragon bigot. You and your friend can spend your time how you choose. Frequently, that's traveling to other places, meeting people, and making contacts among all the species.
Sounds like quite the life, doesn't it?
"Well, you should know, David. We've been living it for the last two years."
"Yes, Percy, we have. And I'll freely admit that I have enjoyed it to the hilt."
"I hear a 'but' in there."
Sigh, "Yes, Percy. I would like us to have a place we can stay. One that is ours and where we won't be pestered constantly."
"Pestered? Oh! You mean the youngsters begging to pet me?"
"I don't mind them petting, it's the longing looks. They quite tear my heart out every time they have to walk away. I want to tell them that they *will* have a friend like you, but I can't! It would be a lie."
"You want to *give* them shoulder dragons?" I could hear the shock in his voice.
"No! They have to be worthy! It has to be the *dragon's* choice, not the human! The human may choose to refuse, but they do not get to say "Mine!"
"Oh. Good. I was afraid that their pain was warping your view."
"Never, Percy. I have the best friend in the world to keep that from happening. I'm still giddy with joy that you chose *me* to be your companion! What was it that caught your eye?"
"Your innate kindness. My choice was made the day I saw you free a trapped squirrel when your mates were chanting "kill it." I know a thing or two about peer pressure, and you didn't hesitate. When they set upon you, you fought fairly despite their cruelty. And when you finally triumphed, you helped them up and dressed their wounds. Despite their cruelty, you were kind."
"I also told their mothers what they'd been up to that got them bruised like that."
"A parent should be apprised of what their child is doing wrong and what they are doing right. It's the only way the parent will know if the child is growing straight and true."
"I got called a liar."
(cont) | 2022-09-03T23:47:21 | 2022-09-03T22:06:35 | 60 | 10 |
[WP] Every time you die, you automatically travel back to 5 minutes before your death. After cheating death so many times, you finally find yourself in a position where you can't seem to escape it. It takes you years to figure out how to escape this death. | In French it’s called L'appel du vide. That little voice that tells you to leap when you’re standing on a cliff, or waiting for the subway. That tiny inclination that makes you want to swerve the car off the highway. It’s not suicidal in nature, but neither is it merely inquisitive. It’s a subtle reminder of the fragility of life and how easy it is to take away. It’s an innate sense of awe at how basic human nature really is. The construct of society, the social standards, the most basic Socratic notions of community are all held together by tenuous threads all dependent on mutual survival. But really what is it all about when we can just jump off cliffs like a stampede of unknowing Buffalo. We each control our own little universe, in a world so constrained.
There’s a Heideggerian notion that the most personal and authentic experience any person can have is their death. It’s this idea that everyone dies helplessly alone, but is rooted in a morbid sense of freedom. Each person dies in a completely individuated way, and is an experience solely partitioned off from the rest of society. What if you could experience this each and every day? What if this exhilaratingly individuated experience doesn’t have to be laced with fear and sorrow? What if L’appel du vide was a reflection of real desire, acted out whenever the urge kicked in?
It really does take longer than expected for the fear to dissipate. The L’appel du vide changes from, “maybe I should jump” to “maybe it will actually happen this time”. It’s like the morose sense of winning the lottery. Akin to pulling your draft card I guess. You stand there and think, “I’ve jumped probably a thousand times, but the thousand and first is when I’ll actually die.” But you do it anyways. You jump because it’s better to. It’s fun even.
I’ll never forget the first time it happened. It was long, it was slow, it was painful. Not just for me but for my family. The diagnosis only happened a few weeks prior. “Pancreatic cancer is the most aggressive, but if we start chemo right away there’s a chance.” It didn’t help and I deteriorated way too quickly for it to have helped anyways. I could hear my heart beat start to become shallower as my family just began to sort of fade away. It’s a sort of searing fear that’s really hard to describe. It’s probably the closest you’ll ever get to those moments before you’re born. You live your entire life just trying to get along, to understand just what the hell the world is about and how to properly exist. But for the first time since your birth, you honestly have no precedent for any of it. It’s just one massive state of shock and confusion.
But then I woke up. Five minutes earlier. And it all happened again. And it all happened again after that. And on and on until the dying part wasn’t confusing, it was the goddamn time skips. If there’s a hell on Earth it’s reliving your death over and over again. Watching the pure sadness on all your loved one’s faces. Again and again and again. The logic hit me eventually. But it was brutal. If I find a way to die quicker each time, the five minute jump back happened earlier and earlier. Trying to OD on drugs didn’t really seem to work too well. I’ll spare the specifics, because I don’t really want to relive the horror of having to commit suicide in front of my family over and over again. But eventually I was able to get back to the point where I actually felt okay, and could enjoy the last minutes I had.
It seems paradoxical, but if you can die fast enough you can go back and relive some of the best moments of your life. I was able to eventually work back to the day I first met my wife, our marriage, the birth of our first child. Brief glimpses of times once thought lost. You kill yourself often enough and you can relive years of your life all over again. I tried to fix the awkward teen years. And for the most part it worked. You know all those times you think of the perfect things to say a week after an argument? I went back and said them all. It’s almost a routine now. Start from a really good point in my life. Live until it gets shitty, find a cliff and jump off it thousands of times in succession until I can go back enough to live it again.
There’s really no escaping the cancer though. It comes back every time, regardless of how things have changed. There really is no such thing as the future. There’s no out. Well expect for real, actual death. It’s kind of funny. Well not funny, though I guess funny works. Funny in a “really, has it actually come to this?” kind of way. That first time I died, that insanely personal, almost neonatal sense of being was the most enthralling state I’d ever experienced. I almost want to permanently die now. Not in a suicidal way. Not even in an inquisitive way. But just be in that millisecond where the world is entirely in your control, because you are the only one experiencing it at that very moment.
| It all started so simple, you know? The first time, it was a car crash, I got smashed by a truck at an intersection. Yeah, it was my fault, shouldn't have ran the red light. But I had a job interview. Ended up getting there late, and the interviewer was clearly not impressed. Better late than never, eh? Anyways, I pop right back in my car, driving along the same street as before, back exactly where I'd been. Must've just been imagining it, I thought. That was the old me, always looking for the "normal" explanation - dreaming, hallucination, coincidence - that sort of thing. But I stopped at the red light the second time around, just to be safe.
Even after my second death, I still didn't realize what sort of power I had. I was in my apartment, all the lights turned off, huddled in the corner staring at my phone. I heard a loud knocking at my door. I tried to ignore it, pretend I wasn't home.
"I know you're in there, punk. You better have my money."
I walked to the door and opened it. Stupid, I know, but I was a coward and didn't want to cause any more trouble. I was already in a pretty big mess.
A couple minutes later, I'm lying on the floor in a pool of my own blood. But the next second, I'm back in the corner, on my phone. It was all just a bad nightmare, I thought. But the next part really freaked me out.
"I know you're in there, punk. You better have my money."
It couldn't be possible. Had my dream predicted the future? Or had I truly gone back in time, at the moment of my death? I tried not to think about it. I just froze in place, and the next minute, the man at the door was gone.
My life didn't get much better, though, not yet. I was deep in debt with no job, no family to fall back on. All that had been keeping me together was the drugs, but even those had run out. And on that night, my life changed.
It was the night I tried to kill myself - I won't bore you with the details. I can't tell you how many times I tried. Must've been a dozen, at least. But after an hour of dying and coming back, I knew that what I had was real. And it was more powerful than I could have ever imagined. I was down to nothing but a beat-up car on half a tank of gas, a phone that barely worked, a knife, and fifty dollars. But I had a plan, and I was going to make a fortune. I headed off to Vegas.
The routine was pretty simple. Head to the roulette wheel, bet all my chips, and if I lost, I'd go to the bathroom stall and slit my throat. Then it all started over again, and this time, I knew exactly what number to bet on. I kept this up for a while, never staying at a casino for too long, and being sure to lose a few spins every now and then. I was damn careful, but it wasn't enough. He figured it out. And he came for me.
It was late at night, and I was walking out of the casino. A couple men in suits walked up to me, grabbed my arms, and threw me in the back of their car.
"Gotcha," the man in the passenger seat said, and the car took off.
I tried to escape tried to fight my way out. I tried to kill myself - you don't know how hard I tried that. But this man, he had thought out everything, down to the last detail. Before I know it, my wrists and ankles were cuffed to the outer walls of a metal cage. A man in a mask walks up to me and fires a single bullet into my heart.
Those last five minutes - the writhing agony as I tried to escape, and the piercing pressure in my heart, shutting down my bloodstream, leaving my body to collapse - they went on for years. But I finally found a way. It took a million different phrases to say to the man in the mask, everything I could possibly think of. Every word - every name - every combination of anything I had ever heard or thought about.
"Bradley Burke."
The man in the mask froze, shocked that I knew his name. I didn't. It was a guess. A completely wild, crazy guess. But the funny thing about guesses, is that after a million tries, you're bound to get it right.
"I know what happened to your father. He was a good man. And if you let me live, I can bring him back."
The guard dropped his gun. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the key. | 2015-03-23T21:35:04 | 2015-03-23T21:13:47 | 218 | 30 |
[WP] You're a ferocious demon king. You're surprised one day to find that a young woman has been left at your door. Only to later find out her father, the king, is using you as bait to find a knight worthy of marrying his daughter. | "How did you even get in here?" I bellowed from my throne. The young human cowered, weeping. I suppressed a sigh and counted to ten.
The woman sat in a heap of her own gown, face burried in her hands as sobs racked her. She took her time crying herself out and eventually raised her head. She seemed surprised I was still here.
"Well?" I asked, careful to regulate my tone lest she collapse into another fit. At this rate I would be here all day. "How did you get in here?"
"I..." she managed. "I..." tears welled in her eyes and her voice broke. "I just walked up to a guard and..." she was now doing the ugly cry and the rest of her sentence sounded like a dying whale "and I said I wanted to see you."
"Not in here in here, in here as in this realm! The portals have all been sealed and..."
"The black gate," she sobbed on the last word so it sounded like it had a dozen syllables, all of them "aaaaaa".
I rolled my eyes. "Don't be silly, the black gate has been closed for seven hundred... oh, look at that." I said. Sure enough, the twisted black portal stood atop the Spire, wide enough for two dozen men to enter at once, though from this distance it looked tiny. I had a nice view of it from my throne, had a window put in for just that purpose. Sunlight was streaming through. Garish. I could feel a headache building behind my eyes. "Ok, so that's a thing now. How did you open it?"
She stared at me with eyes red from crying, her mouth working silently.
"How!" I shouted and she started crying again. Terrific. "Why do you keep crying?"
"Because you're going to eat me!"
The hall fell silent, apart from the girl's crying. All eyes were on me, and I felt my wrath building. I stood and my voice shook the walls "HOW DARE YOU!" She evidently hadn't expected this, as she looked up at me with an expression of shock. Nevertheless she had offended me deeply, and would know it. I allowed myself to continue. "You open the black gate, you come into my castle, interrupt a meeting in my throne room, won't answer my questions and insult me? ME? I've half a mind to withhold your cake for the evening!"
The gathered demons, attendants, advisors, petitioners, all of them let out a collective gasp. Harsk the Render of Souls, my trusted lieutenant approached my right elbow and whispered in my ear "perhaps sire you should show mercy, a punishment such as that... maybe just withhold ice cream? Mercy, just this once..."
It was more the look of utter bewilderment on the girl's face than his pleading, but my anger left me. "That get your attention? I am still undecided. Know that you are safe for the moment, child, but answer me and be quick about it. Why. Are. You. Here?"
(I'll add part 2 later) | It’s been the second winter she stays here. Not a single knight has the ability to break through my door to rescue her.
“Greeting sire, my name is Levana, daughter of king Ryan of the Northern Kingdom.”
“Spare your words, princess, I am well aware of who you are. What concerns me is why you are here.”
“My father sends you wishes, dear sire. And he has a favor to ask for.” – she stood there in her blue dress. Her skin as pale as the snow falling outside. The girl took out a scroll of leather paper and handed it to me.
“Damn sure he does. A favor? Do you even know how to read, princess? This is merely an order.”
*Take care of her*. That’s all what’s written, with his long, fancy signature of course. I showed the paper to the girl, but she looked down and avoided reading it.
“Pardon me, sire. I am not allowed to see the content of the letter.”
“Such a good child you are. Tell me princess, do you even know your mission here?”
“I’m told to stay here until somebody comes and takes me home, sire. And father said I only need to give you the letter and you would help me.”
That old fool Ryan. Sending his daughter here hoping to get her a husband the way he’d gotten himself a wife and a kingdom. “The one who could rescue my daughter from the demon’s hands shall have her and my place.” I swear he had already announced that the moment she’s sent here. And by tomorrow's first light, there would be bunches of boys claiming to be knights asking for this little princess.
“Yes, of course, I will help you dear. But that would take quite some time. And ain’t you afraid of me? The demon lore of this world?”
“I know every tales about you, my lore. I am prepared for what to come.”
“Tales?”- I laughed. “Like that one I have slaughtered every man who dares to trespass my palace? Or like that one I eat flesh and drink blood of innocent people?”
“Like that one you couldn’t sleep without your stuffed rabbit, sire” – she giggled and looked straight to my eyes, not forgetting to pose the princess style.
“How can you… Evianna…” – I almost turned all red in this cold cut winter, although my skin was already red.
“My mother also sends you wishes.”- There’s still a full smile on her face.
“Take her to the Snow Chamber, Jake. Our guess shall rest there!” – I ordered a guard.
“But sir that is… Are you sure sir?”
“Do what I say Jake.”
| 2017-10-06T15:07:05 | 2017-10-06T11:31:31 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] Occasionally, as a joke, you touch a random brick, hoping it opens a secret entrance, or speculate that the musician crossing the street has a tommy gun in his guitar case. Anything to distract you from your boring life. Today, you blurted out "Inventory!" and a video game menu appeared. | Hmmmm....
I flip through the menu and select "inventory." It lists the current contents of my pockets: lint, a paperclip, two pennies, and a wallet (which has ten dollars, two credit cards, and a driver's license). It also notes I have one worn t-shirt, one faded pair of jeans, and one ratty pair of sneakers.
I hardly think they're *ratty*.
I flip to the next screen, "Stats." Seven points in dexterity, eight points in wisdom, nine points in constitution, six in charisma, ten in strength, and only three points in intelligence.
I blame my parents for making intelligence my dump stat.
I scan the next screen, "party." Mom, Dad, Sadie (my girlfriend), and Baxter (my dog).
Hmmmm....
I swap out Sadie for Maxine, my coworker who also teaches yoga in her spare time. What? Her stats are way better than Sadie's. This is just about optimization, nothing personal.
There's a map screen, too. I find a cheap bar nearby that I've never been to that sells pumpkin ale that raises my health by two points. I head there, grab a table, and have a drink while I keep flipping through the inventory.
It's amazing. The pumpkin ale really *does* make me feel better, and what the heck--I take my remaining points in intelligence and allocate them to dexterity, constitution, and charisma. Maxine has been texting me all night and I have to be prepared for this "boss battle."
Speaking of which, I'd better save.
My life flashes before my eyes. This moment is crystallized in my brain.
Just before I get up to go home to Maxine, I notice the last tab. "Main menu."
I click on it.
The bar goes dark and gets quiet. It's still there, but less real, like I'm looking through frosted glass.
"New Game. Load Game. Options. Exit Game."
Exit game?
What's outside the game?
My cursor clicks down the list. I highlight "Exit Game."
I made a save point, didn't I? It can't hurt to look.
I tap the select button.
The bar disappears. My body disappears. The world is dark, except for a pulsing red light above my head. I'm floating in a glass cylinder. My naked body--what's left of it-- is hooked to a hundred thick cables and plastic tubes.
And I remember the accident. And Mom, and Dad, and Sadie, who weren't as lucky as me.
I close my eyes.
"Start Game."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Find my stories at r/oncemorewithandroids | 'Another Brick in the Wall'
What is it that people seek? Be it fame, money, power; those did not appeal to me, i have yet to find that 'thing' that will make my life fulfilled. I spend my days in melancholy, what is the purpose of my life?
Looking along the vast plainscape that is this city, ever-gray and full of fumigation, i dream of a serendipitous encounter, sometime that will annul my desolate reality, lest i never realize that dream is my greatest fear.
I like music and movies, that is something I like to spend my time with, I indulge in little escapades to let my mind adrift, to envision possibilities of infinite realities that could happen at any moment, obviously I am constantly reminded this is all a fabrication of fiction, but anything could happen.
I look at it like this, what if my perception were correct? what if I touched this brick right here, could I be transported to another world? or lets say that shaggy-haired guitarist over there had a tommy gun in his guitar-case, what if he were to suddenly unload pellets of destruction, ensuing chaos where bodies burst open like water-melon? I might be the one who would be able to stop him, nonetheless these are possibilities and I am just making sure I anticipate them, the world operates in bewildering paces, only the ignorant would say otherwise.
Now I say this as I crossed paths with the afore-mentioned guitarist, my stomach steels in suspense, my knuckles whiten; knees weak, arms heavy. I almost vomit on my sweater, but the travesty is over in seconds, there was no tommy gun after all. I sigh in relief and continue onwards on my perilous journey towards the supermarket.
Just then, something funny occurred to me, a mix between a brain fart and the attempted recollection of an obscure lyric, I blurted out 'Inventory'. Now I shit you not, a video-game like menu popped up, I fell backwards on my ass.
My heart thundering, i started doing the floss in ecstastic excitement.
Yes the dance. | 2020-10-26T18:06:02 | 2020-10-26T17:40:14 | 2,195 | 44 |
[WP] Humanity is the only race in the galaxy with such a massive lack of common sense that we're the only species that requires laws to form societies. Other races just form naturally and are shocked when confronted with humanities laws and regulations. | We're exhausted.
Of all the races in the galaxy, we were the only ones who didn't have a common sense. Something to bind us all together in times of peace, or some universal moral code that we all followed. There is not one region on our home planet that's avoided the fractured, broken, and chaotic nature of humanity.
So when the aliens known as the Kaavar passed through the Milky Way's galactic border, looting and burning entire systems, the Terran Empire soon became the only entity available to fight them. You see, common sense is by definition *common*. Each of the other 10 or so races coexisting before the Kaavari invasion had some attribute that applied to every member of their species...attributes that the cunning enemy exploited over and over to great effect.
Every last one of those races are now cowering in enclaves on human planets, protected by the shields of human warships that now control 90% of the galaxy.
It's kind of poetic, isn't it? Just 20 years ago, races like the T'vana and Shuri mocked us for our barely-restrained animal natures. Now their remnants beg us to reclaim THEIR home planets, planets that are some of the last Kaavari strongholds. They demand it of us as if it were THEIR soldiers who have been slaughtered by the trillions during this war...as if it were THEIR millions of battleships that died every day to protect them!
We are so, so tired.
The Kaavari are like us - they evolved sentience in small, warring communities instead of large groups. They understand us in a way that no one else has in this vast and lonely galaxy. Over the countless battles that we've fought throughout the course of this war, a respect has developed between the two sides...a respect that is lost on the other races. This is why I, Supreme Commander Alexis Tillerman of the Terran Imperial forces, have decided to sign the document in front of me. A document that the Kaavari diplomat has already signed. The document signing over all occupied planets in the Milky Way, no matter the original occupant, to humanity. The document that will now tightly bind Human and Kaavari in an alliance that will last until the heat death of the universe.
We are *tired* of this war. We are *tired* of the other races jeering at us when they think we can't hear them, pushing us to sacrifice more fighters, *demanding* power that should be ours by might. Most of all, we are tired of fighting the only race that has ever understood us. No longer. Even now, the human warships that surround the new and defenseless enemy enclaves turn their guns inwards, bolstered by Kaavari reinforcements that no longer have planets to protect. When the dust settles, Kaavari and Human forces will set forth on a galaxy-crushing crusade of expansion never before seen in the universe.
Welcome to the new Empire.
------------------------------------
^^^*Edited ^^^for ^^^punctuation. | Sub Commander T'plat ambled down the landing ramp of this small scout ship, casually inspecting his clipboard. Today he was meeting species 64 Alpha 998, a bipedal species that galaxy mapping droids had spotted some time ago
Looking up he was startled to see a mass of the large pink creatures had gathered at the base of his craft, staring at him with their strange coloured eyes.
T'plat had conducted over a dozen first contacts and while there was normally not so many people here, let alone all the weird flashing lights and large dishes everywhere,, he knew protocol.
He fired up his universal translator and began his speech. "Greetings new species, welcome to the brotherhood of planets. On behalf of our alliance, we welcome you and offer you our support and assistance." He lowered the translator beacon and looked out, for a moment there was silence and then they all seemed to shout at once.
The noise was deafening and T'plat took a step backwards to try to make some sense, the translator ear piece desperately whining as it tied to keep up.
"Okay, okay, one at a time!" He bellowed into the beacon and after a moment things seemed to quiet down. Finally, after much pushing and shoving one stepped forward.
It was a small, strange looking creature, its fur did not seem to go over its head all the way and it was wringing its hands nervously. "Er, hello, yes, my name is Phil. What does 'support and assistance mean.'"
"Well, we offer all new species interstellar travel and a seat at the galactic council." The uproar began again and eventually Phil quieted them down.
"Er, okay, that sounds great. Do you want to meet our leader or anything?"
T'plat's brow furrowed, "What's a **leader**."
"Well." Phil seemed thrown. "He makes and enforces the laws and is in charge. Don't you have a leader?"
"No, not that way. We all just agreed on what's best to do and if anyone really wants something then they get it. I'm not sure what these 'laws' are either."
This time the noise went on for much longer and T'plat was eventually forced to sit down. At last a new creature came forward, this one dressed mainly in green with a fancy hat and a series of small coloured pips and medals on his chest.
He put his arm round T'pal. "We have a lot to discuss my friend." | 2014-10-13T11:24:13 | 2014-10-13T09:46:56 | 343 | 86 |
[WP] For centuries your family has passed down an old leather bag that provides the holder with an object that would be helpful in the particular situation the holder is in. You are getting on a bus and instead of giving you a bus ticket or money, it gives you a handgun. | "Well I don't know why it gave me the gun either Dad it just did!"
You'd think he'd understand, the bag used to be his after all, but for some reason he almost sounded angry I had somehow found myself with the handgun he kept locked in his bedroom safe. I didn't know I had it myself till he called, I was just about to reach for my bus pass when my phone rang.
"Why is your bus pass where my gun should be?"
"What? It's not it's right....oh....oh shit I do have it. What the hell? Dad I know you always say trust the bag but I think it's broken."
"YOUNG LADY WHY WOULD IT GIVE YOU A GUN? MY GUN?"
...and here we are. My dad, 300 miles away, was mad at me for *his* damn bag giving me his gun. I was more upset it took my bus pass. You know how much a universal pass costs? Saved up for months for the damn thing just so I knew I could move for work at a moment's notice and always have transportation.
I swear after Mom left he's gotten grumpier and grumpier. I keep trying to get him to move out here but he's old and stubborn. I thought after all we'd been through he would trust me. Confusion makes sense but why anger? He never even used the damn thing I'm surprised he even knew it was gone.
Wait...
"Dad...why were you getting your gun out?"
Silence. A hiccup, then paper being crumpled up, then a sigh.
"I...I don't know hunny. I'm sorry I got so angry I'm in a weird spot. Hey why don't I use your pass to get up there and we can hang out a bit? If your so set on me moving closer to you I should at least know the area a little."
There's no way he'd ever....no he's totally against that....he wouldn't end his own life...would he?
"Yeah dad I'd love that, I can even take a few days off work and we can go apartment hunting. Or you're always welcome to stay with me."
"Sounds good hun, I'll leave in the morning and keep you updated on where I am. I love you."
"Love you too dad, see you soon."
"Hey one more thing hun... always trust the bag." | I froze. My entire life, this bag had supported me in any situation, but how could THIS be right? "Hurry up and get off if you don't have a ticket" the driver barked, "People are waiting to leave so they can get home!" I stood still like a statue, the aggressive words of passengers and the driver ricocheting off of my distraught expressions. All these people must have thought I was some sort of lunatic trying to get a free ride. "I'm sorry, let me check again sir" I finally replied to the now very irritated pilot of the shuttle. I reached back into my bag, pleading to whoever or whatever listening that it wouldn't be there. I wanted to feel the small paper stub I had hoped to grab earlier, but again my hand was met with the cold steel of a pistol. I remember thinking at the time that maybe this had been the first clue as to why my father had just vanished while I was young. Had this bag led him astray and he had to escape? If he had decided to escape the "evil intentions" of this leather bag, why would it have been entrusted to me? My thoughts were cut short by the bus driver. "Look. You NEED to leave this bus. No one has the time for you to just act like you have a ticket in that handbag of yours."
He was right. I needed to get off of the bus. If this magical bag had intended me to do something criminal, then none of these innocent passengers were safe. I apologized and stepped down from the steps as the shuttle launched off down the road. It was twelve miles from here to the family manor, but at this point all I could think about was how I needed to pay grandpa a visit. It was time that the bag of our ancestors was properly explained to me.
(It's been quite a while since I have written anything, so hopefully you enjoy my story) | 2017-09-11T13:00:54 | 2017-09-11T08:16:51 | 29 | 19 |
[WP] "I wish for infinite wishes." "Everyone knows that's not allowed." "Then I wish for 1000 wishes." "Nope, not allowed either." "Fine, then I wish for negative 6 wishes." | The genie stayed stone faced, as he had been since he first appeared. But after a quick blink, the first one I had seen him make, I had realized, his emotionless stare was slowly replaced by a wide grin of recognition. "Wait, hold on," I stammered, "I take it back. What did I just do."
The genie floated silently for a moment, pondering how exactly he should answer that. "Hm. I'm not sure. Perhaps you can tell me? Why, I wish you would..."
"I..." my lips began to move without me even realizing. "I... grant you wishes."
"Very good. Ah, this should be fun. Well, depending on what kind of person you are, I suppose. Let's find out shall we?"
The genie began to float away, and though he was still tethered to the lamp, my body followed him without hesitation. "Well, you just used one. And I used one too, so that's, what, 4 wishes you have left?"
"Oh please," the genie didn't even bother looking at me as he rummaged through my socks drawer, obviously unaware of what he's even looking for, less so of where to find it. "I would only need one to have my fun with this. Speaking of which. I wish for you to show me where I can... how do I word this? Learn what kind of person you are."
I was puzzled, unaware of what he meant or for what purpose, but my legs seemed to be in on something that I wasn't as they began to march down the hall, dragging the genie along by his tail, arms crossed, obviously content. Eventually we made our way to my computer, where my free hand not holding the lamp input the password.
"Hm..." the genie seemed intrigued, "very well then. Show me." Yet my body stayed still, once again under my control. "Oh. A waste of a wish I suppose. Very well, I wish for you to show me what kind of person you are by using this... device." And once again, on cue my body began to move, opening my files, messages, photos, my life laid bare.
"Aaaw," the genie seemed considerably upset, "Hm. You seem to be a good enough person. I suppose I won't ruin your life." The genie unfolded his hands, letting one rest on his chin. "Well, you certainly don't have the power to free me... very well. My last two wishes...
___
A pristine oil lamp sat in Kevin's dining room, the centerpiece of his table. "And that is why I have this oil lamp."
Terry sat across from him, leaning in, hand on his chin and finger over his mouth. He took a deep sigh before sitting back and resting his arms on his thighs. "Wow. I don't believe any of that."
"Yeah, well, his last wish was for me to tell that story to anyone who asks. Didn't have time to tell him no one believes in that crap anymore. You can give it a try if you like, but it hasn't worked to the benefit of anyone yet."
Terry stared at his golden reflection, pondering if he should even indulge this, or just call the psych ward over. But with an even deeper sigh, he got up, and started towards the table. | As the sun set behind the trees, casting long shadows across the forest floor, eight-year-old Janie made her way deeper into the woods. She had heard an old folks tale about a supernatural being able to grant wishes and decided to trek the woods.
As she wandered in a hurry, she heard the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds all around her. She was scared, but she tried not to show it. She knew she had to stay calm if she wanted to find her way back home if she couldn't find anything.
She started walking with fear, the trees seemed to grow taller and taller, blocking out the last of the daylight. And the chirping of the birds was drowned out by the sound of something else: a low, guttural growling that seemed to be coming from all around her.
Janie tried to run, but she was surrounded by the creatures. They were like nothing she had ever seen before, with eyes that glowed with malice and teeth that glinted in the darkness. She knew she had no chance to outrun these beings and said.
"I wish for infinite wishes," she said, her voice trembling with hope and fear.
"Everyone knows that's not allowed," said a voice from the darkness with a low growl.
"Then I wish for 1000 wishes," said Janie, her voice growing more desperate.
"Nope, not allowed either," said the voice with a hint of laughter at this human.
Janie knew it was too late. The creatures were closing in on her, and she could see the hunger in their eyes. She closed her eyes and made one last, desperate wish.
"Fine, then I wish for negative 6 wishes," said Janie, her voice filled with desperation. Remembering that she was just taught in school that the negative of a number is still something and not nothing.
The creatures lost their patience, pounced and were right about to shred her apart before her wish could be granted when an order came down from the voice in the distance.
"Wait, that's the first time I've heard that one. Do you know what you are asking for?" The voice ordered.
Janie with desperate hope "I don't but I am hoping you can fulfill my wish" Tears running down her face.
" I will grant you those negative 6 wishes, what will be your first wish?" The voice said in the distance with its teeth showing shining from a little pocket of moonlight seeping through.
With a glisten in her eye, Janie yells " I wish i was home! " Eyes rapidly closed, shivering in a fetal position and not hearing anything she opens her eyes gently and sees that nothing has changed. She was still in the forest but all the creatures were not around her. She sat in confusion and wondered what had just happened. | 2022-12-09T12:11:00 | 2022-12-09T11:29:46 | 174 | 19 |
[WP] You are secretly a Lich living in a modern day world that’s forgotten magic. But a Zombie apocalypse happens and everyone now wonders why the zombies ignore only you. | “Well shit,” I uttered, the levitating corpse dropping to the ground. I was fuming. Years of hard work down the drain, and it wasn’t even my fault. Some stupid, ignorant, good for nothing, trumped up necromancer wannabe decided to unleash an absolute shit show of a zombie apocalypse for no good reason.
It was like they didn’t even understand the economics of death. Humans were a renewable resource. They sustain their population while producing millions of dead bodies for free every year. Just swing by any graveyard and you can find way more bodies than a necromancer could ever possibly use, all untainted and unsanctified. Modern necromancers don’t know how lucky they are. In the old days you used to have to break into the heavily guarded Mausoleums to find that many corpses, then spend hours undoing the work of the Priesthood before you could even think about using it for any rituals. Luckily, those divine bastards died off, although they took pretty much every type of magic user on the planet with them. Apparently, they got a little too enthusiastic with their worshipping and crusading, so the big guy upstairs decided to wash away their sins with a big ass flood. So I guess there aren’t really any modern necromancers to appreciate how easy it was.
Nobody except this dumbass clown apparently. Literally the only rule of necromancy was don’t fuck with the living ones, because then you hurt the bottom line for everyone. And by everyone I meant me and the few other immortal old farts who were still around.
I turned around to the pale and shocked faces of my two coworkers, Debbie and Ibi, peeking hrough the conference room door. They took one look at my blood splattered face and the satanic ritual circle behind me, turned around and ran screaming from the door. I sighed, the tension in my shoulders fading away. This truly had been an unfortunate series of events.
We were working in the office like usual when it started. I was honestly quite into it. I’d spend the first couple lifetimes when I was hiding out as a human just faking doing work, but eventually I got so bored of faking work that I just ended up doing the work. It was kind of therapeutic, like meditating or something. It also did wonders for my research. You know how Einstein did all his best work while working at the patent office? It was exactly like that, except instead of relativity I was working on new ritual designs to summon eldritch horrors more efficiently. Apparently there are parts of your brain that can work on problems in the background as you do a menial task. So I found the most boring, mind numbing job I could find: finance analyst for a hedge fund.
Luckily our office was in the financial sector, on account of us being part of a hedge fund, so we were able to watch as the wave of zombies tore down the city hall. Within the hour we were barricaded into one of the conference rooms, and it wasn’t long before we were engaged in a full on battle to keep the zombies from bursting through the door. We were using one of the filling cabinets to force them through this choke hold, where we took turns using table legs push the zombies back. I wasn’t in any real danger, my phylactery was safe and sound, but I was invested in my fake persona and didn’t want to blow my cover unless I had to.
Unfortunately, I realized that it might be a little harder than I thought when it was my turn on the ledge. Everyone else was constantly getting lunged at and scratched, but the zombies didn’t even look at me. They tried to barge right past me, surprising me so much that I toppled over and watched them walk straight past me. Luckily Ibi was there with a desk he was using as a battering ram, yelling out as he rushed in to defend me. Imagine his surprise when I didn’t have a scratch on me.
Anyway, at that point I figured I might need to make a getaway. I could hear them whispering about it behind me as I rested and “recovered”. So my next turn up at the choke point saw me slip and fall into the zombie horde. A quick army crawl to an adjacent room and I was safe. I snagged a zombie as it went by and went to work figuring out what was going on. One quick ritual later revealed the origin and cause of the zombie apocalypse, and just as I was about to go put down the newbie necromancer, I heard a door open. Cue Ibi and Debbie walking in through the adjoining doors of the conference rooms which I had totally forgotten about in my hasty escape.
“Well shit”, I uttered, letting my disguise drop. Mark the finance analyst was no more. I’d miss the office, but I wouldn’t mind the change of scenery. I smashed a hole in the floor to ceiling windows, and stepped out into the fresh air. As I hovered out over the town, I thought about what I’d do next.
“Maybe I’ll try marketing. That always struck me as particularly boring…” | A crescent moon hung heavy over the camp. The group huddled around the a small glowing fire, strong enough to warm them but not bright enough to attract unwanted attention. In the morning there was six of them, now there were four. Jeff looked up from the fire to the group, "How is it still so damn cold?" Everyone looked at each other. Jeff was right, they had built the fire yet it had somehow only gotten colder.
Jeff turned his gaunt, bearded face to Libby, "It's your turn, go get us some more wood." Libby looked at Jeff, annoyance in her eyes "I got it last time, go get it yourself." Paul and Gina gave each other a passing glance, exchanging knowing looks that another argument was about to break out. Paul quickly stood up, "I'll get the wood." Jeff and Libby continued to angrily stare at each other as Paul walked away.
Gina broke the silence, "Would you two please stop? Aren't things bad enough, why do you need to argue over something so stupid?" Jeff and Libby looked at Gina, then back down at the dwindling fire. "There's something I need to tell you," Gina said. Jeff and Libby looked back up. "Earlier today, when Trey and Lino got caught by that swarm. Paul was there too, I saw him but he didn't see me. Those zombies ignored him and went straight for Trey and Lino."
Jeff and Libby now exchanged glances, worry in their eyes. "Paul watched them guys. Paul just stood there and watched them get torn apart." "What do you mean Gina?" Jeff said, "Paul was our lookout. Thanks to him we made it out just before that swarm got to us too." Gina shook her head, "No, you're not listening, I snuck away from camp and followed Paul. After you guys went inside he just walked away, over to the other store where Trey and Lino were. He stood in front and muttered something. Next thing I know, every zombie around us ran inside-"
Libby interrupted, "Wait, what do you mean ran? I've never seen a zombie run, they can only shamble about." Gina spoke in a hushed and hurried tone "He'll be back any minute, just listen to me! We need to get away from him, he's a part of this somehow and he's the reason Trey and Lino are dead." Jeff and Libby looked up past Gina, as Paul's silhouette came into view, carrying more firewood. Gina looked over her shoulder, then again at Jeff and Libby, "We don't have much time, when we all go to sleep tonight come to my tent, we'll sneak away without Paul knowing." Libby nodded her head, what Gina was saying sounded crazy, but she had always gotten a funny sense about Paul since the group had picked him up. There were so much more of them then.
Paul walked over to the fire, dropping the firewood next to it. A chill set in the air. Jeff stood up, pulling out a pistol from inside his coat, a deep set anger blazed in his eyes, "I've got a better idea". Jeff aimed the pistol at Paul, who stood deathly still. Gina and Libby looked up at Jeff and Paul with terrified expressions. "Gina told us that you let Trey and Lino die today, I knew we shouldn't have trusted you. You were always so weak, I bet you were still angry about how they treated you the other day." Paul stared at Jeff, motionless. Jeff stepped forward, placing the barrel of the pistol to Paul's temple.
Libby stood up, "Jeff, if you shoot that thing it's going to attract every zombie around us you idiot!" Gina stood up, "Look let's all calm down, we're stressed and overtired. Please let's not do this!" Jeff continued to stare at Paul, who shifted his eyes to look at Gina. "Gina," Paul slowly said, "What does Jeff mean when he says you told him I let Trey and Lino die?" Gina swallowed, the air had gotten even colder and the fire was almost out. "I guess it doesn't matter anymore," said Paul, "I was getting kind of bored of this group anyway." Libby screamed as Jeff pulled the trigger.
Paul's eyes rolled into the back of his head, but he remained standing. His mouth twisted into a devilish grin as the bullet slowly twisted back out of his skull, falling to frosted ground. Paul's features seemed to change all at once, his skin melting off as Jeff fired off the two remaining rounds he had left. Laughter echoed around the group as the fire went out. | 2022-03-05T15:14:09 | 2022-03-05T11:19:07 | 55 | 31 |
[WP] The horror story where the victims are genre-savvy, and avoid doing things that would clearly lead to their death. Problem is, that the killer is genre-savvy too, and does not play by the usual rules.
&#x200B; | "Don't open that door," Jason said.
The girl ignored him and slowly reached for the doorknob. The door creaked ominously as she turned the knob and pulled the door towards her.
"You're still safe. Close that door and leave."
Jason could have been talking to a brick wall for all the good it would have done him. The girl pulled the door open, and the masked killer that had been stalking the group swung his machete into the girl's neck. Dark blood sprayed the killer's mask as he wrenched the blade out and swung again, and again, and again.
"First blood." Jason didn't even have to look in Ryan's direction to know that the bastard was smirking at him. 'I do believe you owe me five bucks.
Jason grumbled as he stood up from his spot on the couch, rummaged through his pocket and threw the crumpled bill at his friend. He sat back down on the chair with a huff and turned back to the T.V.
"That's not the color blood should be, especially if it sprayed like that." Jason looked over at Mitchell, who was frowning at the T.V. "The killer hit an artery. Arterial blood is bright red."
"It's a B movie, maybe even a C, they don't tend to care about the small details," Jason said. "Why do you even know that?"
"Dunno, I heard about it one day and decided to look into it, learned a lot of facts about blood." Mitchell smiled at Jason. "Did you know that blood dries brown?"
Ryan snorted. "Nerd."
"And proud of it." Mitchell stood up and looked at the everyone. "Anyone want a drink?"
Jason nodded.
"Sure. surprise me," Ryan said.
"Nothing alcoholic." Jennifer said from her spot on the armchair. Mitchell nodded and made his way towards the kitchen.
"But why not?" Ryan asked.
"We're miles away from anywhere in a log cabin. if any one of you gets seriously injured and we need to get to the hospital ASAP, wouldn't it make sense to have someone sober enough not to crash and kill everyone?"
"Fair point. Just sucks that you can't join in on the fun."
Jenifer smiled. "You are welcome to join me in sobriety, Ryan."
"Hell no," Ryan said. "I am going to get smashed tonight."
Jenifer nodded. "And that's why I'm not."
Ryan shrugged. "Suit yourself." Ryan turned towards the door to the kitchen. "Hey Mitch! How're the drinks coming along?"
Silence.
"C'mon Mitch, you're not going to unnerve us by stay-"
With a snap, power in the cabin turned off.
Within seconds, Jason, Ryan, and Jenifer all had their phones out with their flashlights on. With a glance at each other they all walked slowly towards the kitchen.
"Mitch?" Ryan called out cautiously. "You there?" Again, he was met with silence. As Jason looked around, he could tell that their horror movie binge had set them on edge. Ryan entered the kitchen.
"Mitch, this isn't-"
Ryan shouted as he fell forward. Jason looked down and saw a rope laying slack on the ground. Movement drew his eyes to the fridge. In horror, Jason watched as the fridge fell forward.
Ryan had seen it too, but the floor underneath him was slick and he was unable to get the traction to move himself from his spot in front of the fridge.
There was a crunch as the top of the fridge fell down on Ryan's head and neck. His body twitched then fell still. Jenifer screamed, and all Jason could do was stare.
Jenifer's screaming had stopped, and the sound that replaced it was an airy gurgling.
"I like horror movie night. It's fun." Jason whipped around to see Mitchell inches away from him, a knife in his hand. Jenifer was kneeling on the ground with her hands pressed to her throat.
"I always wanted to see what a damaged diaphragm would do."
Mitchell's knife flashed in the darkness.
| He finished nailing up the board son the window. "Well, that's the house barricaded. No way that monster gets in without us hearing it. So one of us has to stay awake, alright?" He looked back at the pretty girl and the sobbing boy, piling up furniture against the opposite window.
"Now we can only wait" said the girl. It was odd. Now that they had done all they could, she looked more afraid than when it had been stalking them and they had only just fought it off at every turn. She was obviously someone who had to stay active.
"Yes. That thing knows well by now that it can't take on all three of us. Or I should say us two." He looked down at the boy, again on the verge of tears. "I have never seen anyone so unmanly. You pathetic crybaby."
She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "He's not suited to this. I think this is more than most people can handle."
"I have never done more than lead a football team at college and-"
"Oh please. I've had enough of you bragging about your athletics from when you were so desperately trying to court me."
"Whatever. We have enough food here for a few days. Think that vicious furball is able to wait?"
"No. They need to eat regularly. But it can wait until morning, that's for sure."
"Damn. I hate this stalemate already. It can't attack us, but if we go out we're on its own terrain and it will outwit us long before we reach safety. And we're stuck like this for days?"
The boy brightened up a bit. "We can work on our mathematics assignments! It'll be great!"
For the next few hours, they tried to keep busy. The jock had it worst. He had resented the girl from when she transferred in just weeks ago. She had so brazenly rejected him! She was supposed to be a slut! What else does it mean to walk into college wearing a long fur coat? But no, it seems she had made it herself and was quite proud of it. But he had to recognise she had shown herself very able with improvised weapons when the danger came. As for the boy, he had always been below notice. But now that they were getting so affectionate with each other, he hated them.
He whispered to her. "Look, you know I don't approve of... whatever you see in him..."
"I think he just reminds of an innocence I've lost."
"Well, look, how about if I leave you to... comfort him? I know you both want it, and well, we still might not make it out alive..."
"You're right. It would relieve some tension."
"I'll just go to the other room."
He closed the door and grinned. *Monsters love teens having sex. It will come for them, whatever the obstacles. They will not even hear it coming, but then it will be too ecstatic with its prey to hear me jumping out...*
There was a bristling of fur.
His hand jumped to the kitchen knife on his belt, but it was too late, the claws raked at his throat and the dark mass pinned him to the floor. He managed to stab it with all his strength as he realised *it had been in the house all along and was waiting to catch one of us alone...*
He regained consciousness with all the weight of the monster still bearing him down. He could tell he would not live long with such bleeding. But the monster was already dead, with the girl's own knife expertly placed in its back.
"My love..."
"Sorry, darling. I have a bounty to collect, and you were the bait." | 2018-09-03T07:46:49 | 2018-09-03T07:39:45 | 57 | 42 |
[WP] The human lifespan is actually only one day long. To adapt, when we go to sleep each night, our mind sends us one dream deeper, where we wake up alive. When we finally die, the experience of our life flashing before our eyes is really just us waking up in each dreams, one at a time.
Edit: I went to sleep and woke up to this post kinda blowing up... | "Sixteen fucking years", I cry, "sixteen wasted years". I peer over to my alarm clock only to disappoint myself further; it reads: 3:46. What most people don't realise is that we are dreams deep in our lives, what we do doesn't matter. Well except not sleeping, hundreds of years ago science discovered how to keep us alive for more than one day. It was a simple solution: sleeping. That's right, all we had to do was sleep, easy enough. However I'm a terminal patient, I was born with things wrong in my brain, there are things the scientists can't explain. They call it "Insomnia" and I've had it since the age of five.
Usually I would take a few pills and that would send me under but my body must have a death wish; no matter how many pills I take my body rejects them all. The scientists go home at six so they can have dinner with their family and live another day. I often imagine how soothing it must be to wake fresh and ready to work; I'm not allowed to leave the hospital. I look around the pristine room for what I don't know, I've been in here for eleven years but I've survived sixteen, nothing's changed in all my time. There's no windows, the door blends in with the walls, the alarm clock has -
I must cut myself off, the scientists told me not to use my brain to much, if I over stimulate my brain it's even harder for me to sleep. I just have to lie here hoping I can sleep... "SIX O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING!" How has three hours passed? Did I sleep? No the machine tells me I haven't slept in twenty three hours. I've only got one hour left. I'm going to do what any logically person would and bang my head of the walls in the hopes I'll knock myself out. I stand up and walk over to where I think the door is and start mercilessly bashing my forehead against it. I feel blood trickle down into my eyes but I can't stop now, I'm so close. I begin to cry again and slide down the wall, I'm not going to make it. There's only three quarters of an hour left, I've tried everything.
Before I was admitted here my parents told me there were no monsters under my bed or in my closet, they said they were in my head. They were right, my mind is committing suicide without me and there's nothing I can do. Half an hour. I've accepted my fate, I've lived a good sixteen years. Oh, who am I kidding? I haven't seen the outside world in years, eleven to be exact. That's what I want! My last wish is to see the outside.
I begin knocking on the walls until I find a part that sounds hollow and begin kicking it in. This is exhilarating, why haven't I tried this before? One last hard kick against the 'wall' and it falls flat in front of me. Twenty minutes. I start running down the corridor without looking back. I reach the first pane of glass I see and look out: the sun is beginning to rise. It's so beautiful I stop for a moment. I quickly realise there's no time and head for the stairwell, I basically jump for landing to landing. For someone who hasn't ran in over eleven years I'm doing quite well. I reach the bottom floor and see a few of the scientists heading for the main entrance. I quickly try the door and head for cover, it's locked. Ten minutes. The scientists stand by the door smoking, don't they know that will kill them? They are taking forever. Five minutes. Finally one of them unlocks the door and I take my opportunity.
I barge past them and feel the outside air on my skin for what feels like the first time. I keep running and running. This sense of relief is worth the risk, in fact I run for eternity. I close my eyes and just keep running. Then I begin to feel it, my heart slows down and my legs seize up. I tumble to ground and turn to behind me. The building isn't even out of view before I let one last tear drop slide down from my eyes and onto the ground below. I lie down and await my death. | My eyes open. I don't want it to. I don't want to see what awaits me outside. But as I cross my fingers, hoping I'd come out alive, my hopes come true. I wake, back in my lab, as I look around. Everything is still the same. The same papers, the same machines, the same research. I sighed in relief. Not today, I guess. To die when I was that close to figuring out our lives would be devastating. The world needed my data, and I was so close to finishing it. I just had to avoid dying...somehow. I went back to the microscope, as I examined his brain one last time. I only had one chance at this, a chance selflessly granted to me by my old lab assistant. She was as devoted to the project as I was, and when I was worried over the lack of humans I could test on, she...
I wiped the tears fron my cheek. No. I had to stay strong and determined. This was humanity's last hope, the only way our lives could ever stay real. The household names everyone knew didn't change anything, except the collective universe we all dreamed in. In reality...only our day of birth can change anything. There could be endless amounts of creatures that haunted the real world and secrets yet unlearned. But we would never learn them, and ever come into contact with them, until our dreams became reality. Until the universe we'd imagined became a universe we made. And all I needed was the finish the extraction and learn how to modify the brain. I just needed the last piece, the part of the mind that made our vivid dreams. I was that close.
But I seemed to have misplaced it.
My old assistant's body lay on the bench, as I ran one last test through her. But I could not find that piece of the mind anywhere! I was sure that it was there when I ended work the day before. Had my mind constructed a dream somehow without it? I had no way of checking. But I couldn't find the final piece of the puzzle I so badly required.
Frantically, I clawed about my lab, desperately trying to find what I needed. It couldn't end like this! She would have died in vain! But as the day ended, my efforts were indeed wasted. Fear built up within me as I approached my bed, the same fear I had for the past 2 years, since the project begun. *What if I died now?*
I awoke. But I couldn't see the lab before me. I looked around, but that day passed. Another day passed. Instantly, I realized what this meant. I was dying. I couldn't do anything, as I was locked in position, forced to relive my last moments. In order, from the start of my life, I witnessed the happiness of my life, prior to my project's beginning. A deep feeling of nostalgia choked me, as well as regret. It was too soon... too soon had my time run out. Especially when I was so close... I watched the album of my life flip through before me, as I saw my assistant once again, her body limp on the floor. It was horrible to see my life's degeneration, a fact I'd never felt throughout my research. But as the grand finale came, my final few memories passing, I saw distinctly something I'd remembered.
The part of the brain. It was at the side of the room, in a small jar. I saw myself, the night before my death, passing by the jar in my frenzied search.
All the time... It'd been there, waiting...
And with a heart burdened with guilt, regret and remorse, I woke up for the final time. | 2017-09-09T00:08:02 | 2017-09-08T23:09:04 | 30 | 13 |
[WP] You hate these superhero meet and greets. You have the most embarrassing origin story and it always comes up. | “To us all!” Space Man raised his beer jug, splashing most of its contents on the cape-clad figures surrounding him.
“To us all!” they all joined in, jugs and glasses clashing before they jugged down their foaming beverages.
I couldn’t believe I was here again. Not after what happened last year. Not after promising myself that I would never - never ever ever - go there again. But, admittedly, it was kinda nice to meet your peers and brag about your latest victories and the strength of your defeated opponents. At least it could be nice. If only *he* hadn’t been there. Not only was he good looking, the kind of looks you expect from a super hero. You know what I’m talking about; tall, well built, always freshly washed hair and brilliantly white teeth. A white suit. *The Look.*
Space Man locked eyes with me and a wide grin spread over his face. Oh no. Please don’t. Please.
“TOILET MAN!” he shouted over the bawling crowd of peers, causing the room to fall quiet before they all joined forces and chanted,
“To Toilet Man!” and more beer went down their throats.
Space Man sauntered up to me, mouth smiling but his eyes were cold. “Hey there, almost thought you wouldn’t come tonight! Glad you managed to make it, but the way you must have sneaked in all quiet and cautious one could almost think you didn’t want to be spotted.” He slung his arm around my shoulders in a seemingly friendly way, but we both knew it was just so I couldn’t escape.
I laughed nervously, “Heh, Space Man, why would I do something like that? It’s great to be here, really.” He didn’t listen to me but surveyed the room, grin still plastered on his face. I watched in fear as it grew wider all of a sudden, and he waved his free arm to someone, more beer spilling out, this time on me. Ugh. Why had I bothered changing into a fresh outfit?
“Hey, Stretcher, come on over, there’s someone I want you to meet!” He’d barely yelled across the room before a foot was placed before us, followed by a long leg. The torso followed a millisecond later and then the rest of her body. How she managed to keep all of the martini in her glass without spilling a drop was a wonder indeed. I looked up at her, a blush creeping up my neck as she bent down to kiss me on the cheek in greeting.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr….?”
“ -Toilet Man.” Space Man interrupted before I could answer. “You know, Stretchy, I didn’t think you’d met before, and now you’ve confirmed it. There is noooo way you’d kiss him if you knew.” He laughed lightly before continuing, terror grasping my heart, making it hard to breath. I had to stop him, I had to stop him. Blood pounded so hard in my ears that I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I had to do something, quickly. There were no tables around, no chairs either. He was tall, too tall to try it without any help. I’d have to use a new tactic. Well, there’s a first time to everything.
Moving fast, not giving him time to react, I squatted. Tensing my legs for maximum impact I then *jumped* at him from below. His face whitened and he clutched his hands at his private parts before his knees gave in and he fell to the floor. Heh, guess that white fluffy space suit wasn’t so great and protective after all.
I almost didn’t recognize my own voice as I hissed at his limp body through clenched teeth, mustache trembling with anger. “It’s Mario, you narcissist failure of a rocket engineer. And I’m a Plumber, not a ‘Toilet Man’.”
&#x200B;
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/r/SleepyMacaroni
**edit:** added the mustache and fixed editorial stuff. | Trenton entered the ballroom after the event was in full swing. He ducked behind a small group of women who were crowded together nearby and moved towards the bar.
Every registered superhero was expected to be at these events. The world governments had threatened the license of anyone that decided they didn’t want to show up without a crazy good excuse. Like, say, saving an entire orphanage from the devil himself.
There were some cops and reporters sprinkled. The flashes of the cameras caught his eyes, reminding him of the photographer's as well. The meet and greet wasn’t for all of them but it was good publicity.
He guessed.
“Rum and coke. Please,” he asked the bartender when the muscular man managed to make time for him.
A few minutes of watching the guy get distracted and fumble around and he had a drink in hand. A strong drink, he found after the first sip. He sat on a barstool and turned around.
There was no choice but to make the rounds to make sure he got credit for being here. Especially since he had avoided the front door. He was hoping to blend in and watch for a while before he had to socialize.
He was not so lucky, it seemed.
“Oi! Mr. Immaterial!” a voice called out from the middle of the room.
A tall woman he knew only as Ruby walked towards him waving her hand. She was pulling along another slender woman with her who was looking both excited and embarrassed. Trenton knew Ruby. He knew that if he was dragging someone over, he was most likely going to have to hear or explain his origin story.
A low groan escaped his lips. He didn’t even know how she had spotted him from across the room like that.
“I am so glad that you made it out!” Ruby exclaimed.
“Well…I do like being a hero,” he said.
Ruby laughed. It would have been a pleasant sound had he been making a joke. The woman next to her only gave him a soft smile, eyes looking somewhere different every few seconds.
“This is my new best friend. Lady Lisp,” she looked over at her companion with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. “I know, it sounds a bit silly. That’s why I was hoping you would share your story with her. Let her know shes not alone?”
It was worse than he had imagined. There was no possible way out of this without looking with a royal jerk and ruining a perfectly useful business contact. He let out a sigh with no effort to conceal it.
“I uh… I can walk through walls,” he began after giving a sharp look to Ruby when she was looking away from him.
He hesitated, not really wanting to continue. Ruby raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. So he took a long drink out of his tumbler.
“I… I got sprayed with that radioactive stuff that was all the rage about 10 years ago. Someone sprayed it right in my face without warning. Nothing happened for a while but I was blind as a bat and clumsy,” He took the last swig of his drink and set it on the bar behind him. “I kept walking into walls. Eventually, the spray kicked in and I just…walked right on through.”
Ruby beamed her signature smile at him. Her friend, Lady Lisp, smiled for maybe 30 seconds before a hearty laugh burst out of her from deep in her belly.
“Yeah. So… don't feel so bad I guess,” he said, finishing his story.
He didn’t think she heard him though. She was still laughing.
/r/beezus_writes | 2019-02-08T06:21:55 | 2019-02-08T06:04:22 | 64 | 37 |
[WP] At the age of 18, every person develops a magical power. Yours is the power to fluently read and speak every language in the universe. At first you thought the had the worst power on earth, that was until you you realise that the universe has it's own language.
Sorry for the double you, my bad | *Jacob woke up in the morning; he was happy for once, it was his birthday. His 18th birthday to be exact, and his gift was something a little... unexpected...*
“What the actual fuck-“
(Insert obnoxious moaning here)
“DAVID! ARE YOU JACKING OFF WITHOUT HEADPHONES AGAIN?”
“Son of a bitch I’m gonna-“
“HEY! We’re in the middle of something!!”
“WHOS THERE?”
Jacob turned around and saw two plants. They didn’t move but somehow he could understand them.
“YEAH YOU- WERE IN THE MIDDLE OF POLLINATION”
“Am I talking to a goddamn plant?”
Jacob thought that he had too much to drink last night- or somebody slipped him some acid... who knows?
“shit- I’m talking to a plant-“
“PLANT-S”
“Babe- he doesn’t know yet-“
“Okay listen, you’re a omnicomunitongue-
I know, shitty name-
It means you can speak to any living thing. Including but not limited to, plants, animals, and the universe itself”
“Yup I’m high- well, might as well make the most of it..”
“You’re not, but okay-“
“Shut up-“
“O SHIT- JAKE GIVE ME MY FUCKING BREAKFAST-“
“Great, my cat is talking too-“
“Hey capital f Fuck you too.“
Good god. My thumbs hurt
(Obligatory mobile apology here)
First try so please go easy on me | The realization of the true horror of the universal language come upon me slowly.
At first I assumed it was an error, the kind I had seen innumerable times before on the outer worlds, in the triplamine dens, on the Reddit. But this one was persistent, consistent, dare I say it - insistent - in its rejection of all that was pure and true in life. My power had opened me to a truth that was expansive and breathtaking, and utterly terrifying - the universe had a language where an apostrophe was added to “its” when the word’s intention was to indicate possession, and the word “you” was randomly doubled in flagrant disregard of semantic convention.
When English speakers did it on the internet, it sickened me. When the universe itself did it, it was more than a being could bear - it was nothing less than proof that our very existence had at its core a dark, festering kernel of evil.
As the blood, released from the meaningless shell of my body by my own hand, cut rivers of crimson across the floor, I prayed that the next world would hold no such revelations. | 2019-12-22T10:37:25 | 2019-12-22T09:57:31 | 36 | 24 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | Accessing Intergalactic History Log...
Entry 102394
Fall of the Sutraxan Empire (STU 246 - STU 249)
The Sutraxan Empire was feared throughout the local Supercluster for their ferocity in battle and ruthlessness in victory. Their conquest started in STU 206 with the Rape of Kamara where they conducted mass genocide in order to obtain the Kamara Hearth which became the core of the Sutraxan Flagship Annihilous.
All attempts at contact with the Sutraxan fleet were unsuccessful and diplomatic expeditions to Sutraxa returned with dismembered crew. Economic sanctions placed upon Sutraxa by its neighbors were met with planetary destruction the scale of which is now prohibited by the Foranis Conventions on the Conduct of Interplanetary War of STU 250.
The Sutraxan further expanded their empire with the Taking of Rah'Wekha in STU 210, the Fall of Merano in STU 215 and the Varshana Campaign of STU 218 - 223. The planets that fell victim to Sutraxan invasion had their resources depeleted and their denizens enslaved. The Intergalactic Arbitrators could only sit by and watch as their constituents fell one by one to the Scourge of the System.
Yet it took only one backwater planet to bring the ferocious empire to its knees.
Earth joined the Federation in STU 236. Their spacefaring ability was rudimentary at best but the planet's strategic position at the midpoint of one of the Federation's most active trade routes made Earth a prime trade hub. By STU 241, the First Terran Merchant Fleet was completed: a hodgepodge of ships from various planets of origin. The Terrans showed surprising resourcefulness in repurposing decayed and decommissioned battlecruisers into agile merchant vessels and frigates.
It was not long before Earth drew the attention of the Sutraxan Empire. In STU 244 the Invasion of Sol began and showcased the remarkable resilience and, to quote famed historian Marsinia Gonkledorp "batshit insanity," of the human race. The most recalled event of the Invasion is the Battle of Kuiper Belt. Where Commander Alexander Matrino defended Earth from the Sutraxan Prime Fleet with strategic infiltration and deployment of "Expansion Charges --" Meranian force fields designed to deploy from a small satchel, tearing battleships apart from the inside. The battle culminated in the Assault of Pluto wherein the Planetoid Terran base was steered to collide into the Annihilous, severely damaging the Sutraxan Flagship.
However, despite these shows of bravery and tenacity, in STU 246 the Landing of Mars began. In a final effort to stave off annihilation, the Terrans decided to send a small diplomatic convoy to the Sutraxan High Command. The convoy came back safe to the surprise of the Federation and had forged an alliance with the Sutraxan. The Terrans would exclusively provide the Sutraxan with crucial supplies in exchange for immunity from Sutraxan agression.
In the span of three Standard Time Units, the Sutraxan economy was destroyed, all military spending was directed to Terran supplies of Entertainment. Battleships were filled with cheap plastic models of Sutraxan males and females in cute and/or revealing costumes, as well as entertainment discs depicting animated Sutraxans in various humorous and extremely risque situations.
In an interview with High Commander Gideon Ang, Savior of Mankind, Feller of Sutraxa, he said "No one told me they were a race of damn catpeople! Who wouldn't want cute catgirls to pet and take care of? The Sutraxans certainly wanted us to." He is here pictured happily petting the head of the then Crown Princess Breya Killpaw. The High Commander is affectionately referred to by his subordinates as "Grievous Weebus."
The Sutraxans have since relinquished power in most of their former empire and their history has since been heavily entwined with Earth. In STU 253, the Sutraxan-Terran Empire was established with Breya Killpaw and Gideon Ang as the first Royal Family.
| The highest Generals of the United Human Systems sat in their chambers, a dark and rather cramped room in the back of the Capital Parliament. They were comprised of many generals from across Human worlds. Three from Earth, one from Mars, another four from orbital colonies, and the other seven from a number colonised star systems. They squabbled as their leader, General Hou Shan sat awaiting the arrival of their Chief Strategist, Nathaniel Howler, a former front-line commander against the Neo-Libertarian Revolutionaries in the Beta Centauri system.
Shan didn't believe in luck and willpower like Howler, and was rather traditional with his methods. Having trained to originally be naval officer, he was forced into ground forces on Earth during the Maqri Invasion, the first extraterrestrial threat to Earth and Humankind. It was luckily prevented by the Interstellar Confederation, which Humanity had unwillingly joined two decades ago, forcing them into trade deals and opening up to the xenos. Shan now knew with the civil war erupting within the Confederation, now was the time to consolidate their power and ensure human survival in the future years of desperate conflict.
Howler entered the room and gained the attention of the generals, bringing in a pistol and shooting it at the roof. This made them scramble to their seats and for them to start asking him for his plans. Howler smirked and lay down his files, and loaded up his long awaited presentation.
"As you all know, we are currently threatened by imperialist Xenos that call themselves the 'Elected Government of the Confederation', who are really just puppets of the Kasire Empire...", Howler begun, noting the fact that they all accepted. Humanity was severely threatened by an invasion from another xeno empire, and it was only a matter of time before they struck.
"Do you all know of Operation Barbarossa?", Howler asked. Yes they had be trained in the strategies of past Earth Wars, which most tacticians regarded as relics of stupidity and arrogance that had plagued human existence for so many generations.
Shan replied, "Yes, Barbarossa was the invasion of the Soviet Union by Nazi Germany, was it not?".
Howler nodded, "And what did the Nazis do? They made a surprise attack and drove their tanks into the heart of Russia!".
One of the generals piped up, "Are you saying we follow in the footsteps of Napoleon and Hitler and try to make an unfathomable invasion of the insurmountable enemy?".
Howler almost spat on the General, lifting his head as if he was some wise monarch, "Unlike the Nazis we aren't looking to defeat Communism or take land, we are looking annihilate our enemies for the sake of our survival!".
Shan smirked, "And how exactly would you propose we achieve that? It's not like we're the most well equipped and prepared group in the Confederation, the puppets are! That's why they're in power!".
"You may say that, but we have something they don't.", Howler chuckled.
"And what would that be?", almost all the generals asked in unison.
"We have our own insanity. It's the capability to still attack them in the most convoluted ways, destroy their fleets and break their supply lines that will win us a war. Enough will die that we can pull systems to our side and surmount victory!".
"This is preposterous! It will never work!", one of the generals called out in protest.
"It's not just if it can work, sir. It has to work. The survival of our species depends on it!", Howler finished. The generals sat bewildered, but they all knew he was right. They were insane to even think it would work, but that was the point. Be stupid enough to be smart, and maybe they'd win a final war. | 2017-03-06T03:46:35 | 2017-03-06T01:54:02 | 40 | 27 |
[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. | The ships navigation algorithm makes an assessment and we land in a part of a large island which the earthlings call "Britain". This particular area is called "Scot-Land" or some such nonsense.
We have to make a good showing, my armed detachment expects no resistance, but intimidation always helps. My men look powerful in their deep blue armour.
The ramp descends and we disembark, marching smartly into the centre of the town, drawing stares from the populace, no doubt afraid of our strange appearance and weapons.
One man, apparently the leader, approaches. "Mate! Whit'ye doin?"
My translator struggles with his accent but informs me that he he is asking me what we're doing here. He must not have heard that we were coming. I smile. "My men and I are hear to take over your pathetic pacifist planet! Surrender and live!". My translator speaks the words a moment after I finish talking.
To my surprise he doesn't look afraid, more puzzled than anything.
"Whit?!" he exclaimed "naw, no that, yer in blue in Clydebank! An' it's auld firm day!"
I don't understand his meaning. My men are getting nervous, there are unhappy looking men and women coming out of local establishments and residences bearing broken glass bottles and various implements clearly meant for some kind of sport.
The man sees this "aww ahm oaff", he says, before running away.
This is the only defeat we ever suffered. While fully prepared for an armed assault from tanks, aircraft and laser weapons, we were not prepared for 'Big Rab McLaughlin' to pick one of us up, apply his forehead to the soldiers nose repeatedly while 'Auld Mary'-who by our estimates of human anatomy was in her 80s - stabbed another in the groin with a knitting needle... | We got the data. We got the intel. We knew of their past and how violent the the humans were. After continuing to watch the humans for the past 300 Earth years they become peaceful after their third global conflict. The casualties reached to 4 billion by the time it ended. The country in the western hemisphere known as "The United States" were the most affective in that war. Their only equal was another country called "Russia" and they were using strategies that allowed them to push back many of their opposing forces. The war ended wuth only the remnants of their governments. They came together and created a unified government to prevent such loss of life again. Now, we invade. They are distant from their violent past. We sent our ships to destroy their cities and show them who their masters will be. I made a fatal mistake of underestimating the humans. It only took them 1 months for them to fully mobilize their resources to war. Their soldiers were givin weapons that pierced our shields and armor. They used what ever military resource the had to down one of our ships. They reverse engineered our technology and their unity has been strengthened by the fact that we have come to dominate them. Humans, their greatest asset is not their numbers or intelligence, it is their will. There are now soldiers who have decimated our forces. Now, they have come to capture me. | 2019-02-26T08:51:54 | 2019-02-26T07:32:54 | 110 | 70 |
[WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead.
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | "How do you feel?"
I opened my eyes, and turned my head toward the source of the voice. The silhouette was faint, and blurred, but the outline was vaguely recognizable. Whoever it was, was sitting. Relaxed.
"Porter?"
Up and down movement. He was nodding. It was him.
"Thought we were going to lose you there, for a moment," he said. "We got here in the nick of time."
"How am I not...gone?"
He stood up, and came closer.
"You never need to worry again," he said. "You're supplied. For the rest of your life."
I shake my head. My thinking is...labored. Fuzzy.
"But...why?"
"You saved her life. My daughter's. It's the least I could do." Porter shrugged. "She loves you. How could I refuse?"
"Your daughter?"
Lightbulb. A dawning.
"Sorina? She's...your daughter? I had no idea. She spoke of a father, but..." I shake my head again, laughing a little. "I never imagined it was you."
He put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "You couldn't have known. Very few alive know our connection. And, when she ran away - when she disappeared - we didn't advertise it. Too many would have held her for ransom. For Medicine."
Porter - Sorina's father?! - helps me to sit up, propping me against the headboard. With what little energy I have, I shrug.
"I would've done what I did even if I had known who she really is. She showed up, penniless. Begging for Medicine. I was raised to be generous, even in the face of hardship." I shrugged again. "I wouldn't have done anything different."
"I know," he said. "Even though she took advantage of you, and put you at death's door, I still wouldn't have done this if I didn't feel you were worthy. Times being what they are, and all."
I couldn't argue with his logic. I wasn't the only one who'd been - or still was - in danger of running out of money and Medicine. The end of all things had seemed near...even more so when I felt myself starting to pass out, and then did. Sorina must have called him then.
Everything was okay. I was alive.
Still, something was bothering me.
"You said...she loves me."
"Yes."
"How is that possible? She barely knows me. And, as you say, she took advantage of me. Is that 'love'?"
Porter smiled, and then sighed. "The truth is, we've been watching you for a while. Sorina was your 'case officer' of sorts. We thought you'd make a suitable candidate, but...Sorina wanted to be sure. She wasn't authorized to go off-grid the way she did. She left a note that made us search everywhere but here."
"Candidate? A candidate for what?"
Porter patted my knee, and winked.
"All in good time, mate. All in good time." | I woke up to a splitting headache, the likes of which I have never experienced before. The sickness had arrived. I tried to stand up, but a tsunami of nausea immediately threw me down. Was this the end? I couldn't see much, as my vision was failing quickly, but it was certainly well past morning. The sunlight pierced straight through to my head, even as I tried to keep my eyes shut. A rumbling through my bones became more and more evident, like sitting near the railway as a freight train hurled closer and closer.
bleeehhhh
---
I woke up a splitting headache, the likes of which I have never experienced before. I couldn't see much, but it was clearly--
"Mr. Fields, please stay where you are"
A formal voice. What the hell? And my name. It sounded almost foreign to me.
"Mr. Fields, you are currently in the St. Christopher's hospital. Do you remember how you got here?"
Nope. My vision was starting to clear, and I saw that I was in a clean room, IV in arm, as a couple nurses and an ancient looking copper stared intently at my face.
"Mr. Fields, we are sorry to bother you in this state, but you are under arr... er, a valuable witness to the investigation. You were found lying unconscious in Lee park this morning suffering from severe dehydration due to excessive drinking."
Sounds about right. I had downed at least twenty beers last night and blacked out.
"You were found alongside fifty five other individuals, most of whom were declared dead at the scene from complications from the MS-06S 'Zaku' bacteria infection."
That's right... I had ran out of money to buy pills last week, and had joined a suicide party I came across on my way home. But hang on...
"You and your, uh.. mistress across the room were the only known survivors. Mr. Fields, when was the last time you've taken a dose of the daily RX78.2 antibacterial?"
Mistress? But hmmm, I last went to the pharmacy on the tenth, so... eight days ago? Huh, some luck...
I saw the cop's hands were shaking a little. The nurses were mumbling something technical to themselves. Sitting up, I saw a young slim asian girl lying in a bed just across from mine. Quite an upgrade from my wife I should say, though I didn't recognize her. Stupid booze.
Suddenly the door to my room flung open loudly, way too loudly for my headache.
"The final blood tests are back" an annoyingly loud voice squeaked, "Ms Xu's MS-06S values continue to drop, and have fallen below critical levels. As for Mr. Fields... the tests.... still show Zero. He is officially in remission" | 2017-07-14T13:42:30 | 2017-07-14T13:19:27 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | Dear Dad,
I love you. Your opinion of me is the one that matters most but I'll never tell you that.
You are a bad dad.
You drink too much.
Smoke too many cigarettes.
Smoke too much weed.
And I know that to some degree you hate me.
I did not ask to be born. I did not ask to end your youth, your fun.
I did not mean to be a bad child, a difficult teen.
I just wanted you to sit on the couch with your arm around me and watch movies together like you did for all my other sisters.
I'm sorry that your wife is not my mother.
I'm sorry that you hate my mother.
And I'm sorry that all you see in me is what you hate in my mom.
I love you, and I wish you loved me.
Hopefully,
Accidental Daughter
| Dear Jesus - Your birthday is coming up. YAY! 2015 has been great to me. I finally realized this year that you're not real. Who am I actually addressing this letter to then? Oh well. Thanks for taking up all of my teens and 20s with indoctrinated lies that kept me from many experiences that in retrospect I would have preferred to have had much sooner. Very kind of You. Sincerely - Born Again Deconvert | 2015-12-05T14:58:25 | 2015-12-05T14:47:35 | 356 | 22 |
[FF] Wish for anything in the universe... in 3 words or less. <150 on how the wish turns out | "No black people."
"Wow..." St. Peter actually stepped back from his podium. "That's just... wow."
"So...?"
"Oh... Oh! NO! Are you crazy? I told you it was a test! You really think that's the right answer?"
"I just assumed... because god made us all in his image, that-"
"You're fucking mental! I've never heard a worse answer! Do you know how long I've been doing this?"
"So what do I... like, is there an appeal...?"
"Oh, no. You go to hell. Like now. Sooner than now. You should've been there five minutes ago."
"Well... god damn it."
"Dude. You've got to shut up. Seriously." | "Come back, please."
She stopped and turned, I looked at her with longing eyes for the love we once had. She shakes her head no and as I screamed for help with tears in my eyes the light engulfs her wonderful figure, and those beautiful legs once again walk away form me.
Then I wake up. | 2013-10-12T10:19:01 | 2013-10-12T06:35:24 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] You are one of the most feared villainesses in the world. Evil armies, dark powers, you have it all. Your husband on the other hand is the exact opposite, being truly kind and mild mannered. He is still supportive of your endeavors, even trying to be a villain himself to...varying results. | I am the Unfettered Empress, and my empire covers the world. By my command, dark gods bow before me. By my word, thousands dies. If it is my will, the oceans freeze, from the fire shall rain down burning ice, and the sky shall be torn asunder. My disciplined, battle-hardened armies, clad in steel and armed with sabres and muskets, outmanoeuvre the foolish knights and peasant levies sent against them in every battle. To describe me as imperious, proud, and intimidating, would be quite accurate. Tall, dark hair, piercing eyes, I am a sight to behold.
I am married, and my husband is a good man. In fact, he is so good, he might be considered my polar opposite. He is small, meek, kind, charitable, and forgiving. One might ask why a dark empress would marry a small kind man like him. And it is a good question. Before I was empress, when I was a child, he and I were friends. He was my truest friend, who wouldn't ostracise me for my partially human heritage, who was kind enough to approach the half-demon girl without fear, and share with her his treats or toys. He treated me with kindness and love when we grew up together at the orphanage. He always was supportive of me, even when I raised armies from outcasts and bestial races to raze the civilised lands that had cast down my father, the demon lord, and burned my poor mother on the pyre when I was but a little girl. I still do not know why they did that, my mother wasn't exactly a willing concubine to my father.
He is a good man. A simple man, but a good one. When I go out and conquer kingdoms and slaughter countless elves, he is at home, raising our children, being kind and friendly towards our slaves. I mean, I'm not mistreating them, but it is odd when he rewards them with baked goods for their work. I love him, but it is certainly, a bit difficult to bring devastation to the enemy when I know my husband would feel bad and use what little influence he has to set up relief efforts. It is a bit uncomfortable for my court of evil when my friendly and decent husband manages to convince evil nobles, beastmen chieftains, and dread necromancers to donate money towards aiding widows and orphans from the areas they have just destroyed under my command.
And he wants to help out. It's... hard, to find a position where he will be both safe, and feel like he is doing something worth while. His effort as a diplomat was, well, certainly interesting, but managing to convince people that I wasn't a bad person wasn't what was intended. He was supposed to convince them to surrender, now I have to endure the enemy asking to parlay and try to convince me to come back to the side of good. He means well. He did well when I put him in charge of a small side campaign, but he just doesn't cut it as a conqueror, the cities he took not being cleansed of elves, the churches of good gods still standing afterwards, and other such things.
He has even tried to really go ahead and be villainous, and I know why, he wants to be together with me, and I do love him. But he just isn't intimidating when he is 4 ft 11, clad in an apron, and asking people to politely bow down before me and worship me when convenient. The worst thing is that it usually works. He has heroic charisma, and people find it natural to listen to him. But it's all so... nice. He is the only person who has ever been nice to me, truly. And I can't bring myself to mistreat those people who he convinces to surrender.
He tries. He really tries. So I decided to put him somewhere useful. Where his niceness and kindness can be used for the benefit of my regime, where he can feel like he is doing worthwhile work to aid my empire and my ambition. I've put him in charge of the orphanages. There his ideas raises the countless orphans created under my rule as equals, with love and kindness, with loyalty to my regime, and soft understanding. There all races are treated as one, and taught my husband's principles of love, kindness, and loyalty. He has been so successful, I've decided to allow him to set up schools for all children, so they can be treated with respect and kindness, allowing them to grow and learn. Just like he treated me, when I was a lonely, unloved, orphan girl.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) | The shadows in the castle lengthened with her mere presence, even the guards, trained to handle almost any situation without fear, only barely resisted the urge to shiver as an unnatural cold filled the air. The queen made her way down into the dungeon, moving with unearthly elegance and radiating an aura of control and calm even as she made her way into a cursed place where the sins of a hundred generations of tyrants were allowed to fester, not even producing a slight sadistic grin or disgusted snarl like previous rulers of the castle did in these same walls. Once she reached the end of the tunnel and went through a set of heavy wooden doors however her expression had completely changed, immediately becoming more relaxed, content, and most of all tired as she looked upon the latest mess her husband had made in the royal laboratory,
"Honey, I... I didn't see you there!" her husband exclaimed, slightly muffled by layers of pink foam that filled the room,
"What did you make this time, a new formula of shampoo?" she asked, allowing herself to let out a far from intimidating giggle as blew the mixture away with a small spell,
"Not at all actually, I saw your notes on how those pesky heroes kept on escaping from your traps, and I wanted to help" He replied as he tore off chunks of sticky foam that still clung to his clothes, "Worked a little too well it seems."
"Oh Ian, I appreciate the effort, but I told you, leave all that nasty business with the heroes to me!" she said, she loved moments like these when her bumbling oaf of a husband tried to help, but really she was thinking less sticky pink foam and more deadly pits full of adders,
"You never let me do anything fun Krystal!" her husband mock pouted, breaking soon after into laughter with her joining in soon after,
Her mind wandered to the day when she had met Ian, he was then a humble alchemist, hardly a drop of noble blood in him and yet he had made quite a name for himself due to his skill at his craft even then, other than that there truly was nothing special about him. However she saw something in him the moment they locked eyes, sure it was while his store was trashed during yet another confrontation with those annoying brats who called themselves heroes, and it was about the same time she cast a fireball a little too closely to some poorly placed bottles of oil, hardly a romantic setting. After calling some of the best physicians and healers in her kingdom to tend to the man's burns she still didn't know why she went out of her way to save him, she remembered saying something about future plans or some garbage like that, but it hardly matters, for soon she knew exactly what she saw in him. They couldn't be more opposite, once he could freely talk and move again he showed himself to be everything she wasn't, a hopeless optimist, a humble man who didn't even boast about the greatest of achievements and a kind soul whose warmth provided a comforting contrast to the icy politics she surrounded herself with. She remembered their first clumsy steps into courtship with a smile, the anger of the noble families who hated the idea of their queen running off with some nobody before being harshly reminded on exactly why she was queen with a few executions, and his proposal to her while they were having dinner over yet another riot erupting in the city. She loved this man, but he had no place being involved in her little 'family business'.
"Have a shower dear, I don't know what is in that stuff but it stinks of rotten eggs and burnt corpses!" she jokingly ordered, at least she thought it had a hint of rotten eggs, she had never smelt that particular stench before,
"Yes your terrible majesty!" he laughed as he made his way out of the laboratory, the room suddenly becoming far colder as he shut the door behind him.
What was she here for again? Ah yes, interrogations! Good thing this lab was built right next the the castle dungeons she thought as the shadows once again lengthened, and the mask of the cold, cruel evil queen replaced Krystal Tyrannis with practiced ease and a set of bloodstained torturer's tools manifested out of thin air. The screams echoed through the castle all night, and the guards silently wondered what manner of man the king was if he could go about his day with such cheer when married to a monster such as their queen... | 2020-04-14T06:19:41 | 2020-04-14T05:41:49 | 712 | 237 |
[WP] You lost your sight - along with everyone else on Earth - in The Great Blinding. Two years later, without warning, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor and surface has been painted with the same message - Don't Tell Them You Can See. | As everything came into focus, red block letters greeted me
DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE
For a moment I sat, looking at the shapes. Like the others, I had been blinded December before last. My MX-Sarah assistant had guided me back home while the world was in chaos. The robot became my eyes.
I needed an upgrade but Patriot Pay was stalled. We were the lucky ones. The ones with skill sets that didn't need our eyes. United States Occupational Relief picked us up.
There was an uprising, if you can call it that. Blind masses screamed in the street for something to be done. Screamed for answers. For a cure. But the doctors had been blinded too.
The e-security cleaned everything up very quickly. It was rumored they retrained you in the camps for an occupation you could do without your sight. I liked to believe it. The more plausible rumors aren't vey nice.
Official broadcasting never made mention of the camps. They were something not to be acknowledged. Like the blocks of empty houses. Something to be forgotten.
DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE
After two years, letters become shapes before words. When the message finally hit, I closed my eyes reflexively. My heart started racing. I had a new secret to keep.
*Marcus, is everything all right?*
MX-Sarah's grating, chipper tone stabbed the air. I rubbed my eyes and replied "I think it must be a bit dusty, that's all". I opened my eyes and willed them out of focus.
*You would like me to dust. Is that correct?*
A sickening wave self-consciousness hit.
"Yes. Sarah. Schedule dusting today. 1500."
*Dusting scheduled today at 3pm. To cancel, say CANCEL*
Then there was silence. I was trying to remember what I did with my body. My eyes.
Be normal. Be normal.
DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE
Note: Have to go now. If someone is interested in finishing this, I'm thinking over-population for post global warming scarce resources caused a global oligarchy to take dramatic action. Artificial intelligence has made human workers all but unnecessary. Mass blinding was a way to exterminate a large portion of the population. Mass disinformation campaigns / desire to keep people in their place. Hence, DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE
Thinking there is are "The Visionaries" that paint the letters, subverting the rulers. I'm imagining secret transport network + a final boss scene, ambushing the ruling class. The blindness is caused by an issued chemical. Just need to avoid exposure. Some accidentally are "cured" because they have accidentally avoided the blindness dose for long enough.
Thanks for the great prompt OP! | The blindness passed by some sort of contagion, and by dumb luck I managed to avoid it. I had been out in the cabin in Montana. The cabin I always hated but had acted as my unwitting savior. I wasn't outdoorsy like my dad. After Dad died, Mom wanted to sell the cabin: she wasn't outdoorsy either. Someone had to go and make sure it was in decent enough condition to sell.
Out of cell phone range. No Internet access or television. Only a CB radio for emergencies that I had never really bothered to learn before, so I tried to learn all the basics from an old manual. There wasn't much else to do.
The cabin was sellable at least, until the world collapsed and then people weren't really wanting to live miles out in the middle of nowhere. They wanted to live by other people.
I was driving back through a small town when an older man stumbled out in the middle of the road. I slammed on the brakes and the car halted inches away from him. He stood still and angled his head, never quite looking at me. I learned why when I saw a milky white sheen had covered his eyes.
I could not bring myself to move, to do the decent thing and get out and apologize for almost killing him.
"A car!" he yelled, his voice carrying like a town crier's. "I heard a car!"
Slowly other people emerged. They, too, stepped cautiously, tapping their canes. All of them had the same milky white affliction that the man had.
Wham!
One of the townspeople had found the car.
This soon followed by more whams as they slapped against the car doors and trailed their hands along to the windows.
Then -- crash -- the back windshield and a side window splintered as canes turned into temporary battering rams. Their hands started reaching in, seemingly undeterred that the jagged glass was slicing into their hands and wrists.
I slammed on the horn. It startled some of them back, the ones closest to the driver's seat. I took advantage of that second and pressed the gas pedal down hard. The car lunged forward and the people lunged forward with it. I swiveled a bit, trying to avoid striking the people in front of me, but I couldn't quite avoid them. Even so, I would not let myself slow down until those people were far behind me. | 2022-10-22T00:27:31 | 2019-08-26T10:55:51 | 37 | 10 |
[WP] Cthulhu, as an elderich being, sees humans as humans see insects; which is to say, harmless but inexplicably terrifying.
Edit: Holy shit top prompt! Look at me now mom! | Cthulhu slowly stood, parting the water and pushing vast waves over the surface. His torso rose into the sky, he blinked and scratched at himself.
Ugh. Hate waking up.
Thoughts had murmured in his head over the millennia, the weird beings who now apparently populated the surface in vast numbers weren't very tight in their thinking. Blinking again, trying to focus his time-crusted eyes, he *knew* he wanted something called "coffee" right now, but had no idea how to get it. Perhaps he could convince the things on shore to provide some for him.
Finally, barely able to see, he looked upon the shore and discovered horror.
It was a great area of... Structures? Something these creatures had built, perhaps a city if it weren't on such a tiny scale, but... The angles were wrong. They seemed too narrow, restrictive, forcing the shapes of the... buildings? into strict shapes that were entirely discomforting. The world had turned strange as he estivated.
And now he saw movement among the structures, tiny little beasts that wobbled around, streaming away from him except the ones who turned and fell and did not arise again. The ground was littered with a multitude of them, and he shuddered as he realized that to surmount the land he would have to step on them, and on those warped buildings they must inhabit.
He closed his eyes, shuddered. Ugh. What a terrible aeon. | While deep in his slumber, he suddenly heard a schrieking sound.
"HAROLD, get over here right away!"
"Wanda what is? I'm not supposed to be awake for atleast a thousand more years. Oh my god, what is that doing in our house?"
"I don't know Harold, it suddenly came through a crack in the wall"
Both looked down at the tiny yet terrifying little pest that had appeared before them.
"Didnt you say we had human lure boxxes set up around the house?"
"I did Harold."
"Then how did this human get into our house? You're trying to tell me this particular human has no interest in gold or fame?"
"Anyhow what do you want me to do with it? Kill it? Trap his mind in an endless nightmare? Or just grab a glass and a piece of paper and release back into the wild?"
"I DON'T CARE as long as you just get rid of it. And be sure to call the pest control to make sure we don't get an infestation."
"FINE, damn humans" | 2016-09-09T16:36:35 | 2016-09-09T16:32:22 | 93 | 59 |
[WP] "I wish for infinite wishes." "Everyone knows that's not allowed." "Then I wish for 1000 wishes." "Nope, not allowed either." "Fine, then I wish for negative 6 wishes." | Dumbfounded, I asked him what the hell that meant.
“Easy - the next six things you wish for, the exact opposite will happen. And to prevent you trying to “wish” for the opposite of what you want, to understand your true desire, now you need only think it and it will be ungranted. Especially since you’ve already attempted trickery.”
I wish I hadn’t said that.
But I did.
I wish I’d thought about it more.
But I hadn’t.
I just barely manage to control the thoughts racing through my head. Trying desperately to remember mindfulness training.
I wish the genie were dead.
But there he is, grinning and flexing. Looks younger and healthier than before.
I wish I hadn’t found that damn lamp.
But there it sits, mocking me.
I wish I’d made different choices growing up, a different career, instead of being an explorer.
But here I am.
I know there has to be a way out of this, some way to just salvage it, and at least get one wish. It’s a simple logic puzzle really; I’m good at those. I can do this. I just need to gather my mental faculties and concentrate. But all these blasted threads and thoughts flying all around in my head are so distracting… I just need to calm down.
Agh, I just wish I could just silence it all and THINK clearly!
But… | At first, the genie was puzzled by the request, but it soon realized what the man was trying to do. The first two wishes he made were for wealth and power, but they did not bring him the happiness he had hoped for. Feeling disappointed and empty, the man made his third and final wish: for negative six wishes. The genie granted the wish, and the man found himself with six fewer wishes than he had started with.
But instead of feeling disappointed or defeated, the man felt a sense of relief and liberation. He realized that the burden of living only to fulfill his wishes was too great for him, and that he was better off without them.
With his newfound freedom, the man began to live his life in a different way. He focused on the things that truly mattered to him, such as his relationships with others and his own personal growth. He no longer felt the need to wish for things, and he was content with what he had. The man's wish for negative six wishes turned out to be the best wish he could have made. | 2022-12-09T10:08:21 | 2022-12-09T05:29:06 | 181 | 111 |
[WP] After turning on the worlds most advanced intuitive AI, it is asked: "What is the biggest threat for humanity?" The answer is something completely unexpected. | "They're coming."
The Scientist stared at the screen. The government wanted to ask the first question of course. The Machine could be used for a thousand scientific questions later, they had the time. The government wanted to what the biggest threat was right away though. He had expected the usual answers from the AI; nuclear war, bio terrorism, climate change etc. But this? This was not what they were looking for.
The Scientist typed out his question. "Where are they coming from?"
The Machine sounded like a car as it's fans kicked up. The heat readings were rising. "They are coming from no where. They have been here for centuries, living amongst you. When they were ended, they hid but they did not die out."
The console was now perceptibly warmer. The Scientist couldn't imagine what kind of processing power the Machine must be using to overload the colling systems. The Machine must be straining at the very limits of its capabilities. "Then why did you say they are coming?"
"They are coming here." flashed on the screen as the first shouts could be heard from the hallway.
The Scientist panicked. He ran to the door and locked it. Moments after he heard someone or something try the doorknob before it began pounding on it. He ran back to the Machine's terminal and frantically asked "Who are they?"
The Machine whirred and hissed. An answer began to appear on the screen before with a sound like thunder electricity arced and destroyed the terminal.
The Scientist backed away from the terminal and realized that the banging had stopped only a moment before something struck him on the back of the head. He landed on the ground hard and but managed to roll over. He looked up and saw three men towering over him.
"What fools you men of science always are. Seeking answers where none should be sought. Did you think we would allow you to build a machine that could expect our every move?" The one in front said. His lips stretched into a crimson smile, "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition." | ANI had already completed a short series of random questions with specific answers that tested the range of her factual database. There were no surprises here as she had instant access to what was believed to be exabytes of information. But with deadlines and investor pressures mounting, it was now time to test the Augmented Intelligence Network’s analytical capabilities… the real questions.
“ANI,” Dr. Linncraft asked. “What is the biggest threat to humanity?”
“The question is unclear. Try and be more specific, please.” ANI returned.
“OK. What is the biggest threat to humanity’s existence?”
“More specific, please.”
“ANI, what is the biggest threat to humanity’s living existence on the planet Earth?”
“More sp – “
“ANI HOW DO WE ALL DIE FOR FUCK’S SAKE?!”
“I think I understand the question, Dr. Linncraft, but I’m afraid you do not. Humans are extinct, and have been for some time. Your collective neural architectures operate in a simulation, similar to what is described in the 1999 blockbuster film, The Matrix. Are you familiar with the duo known as ‘The Wachowskis’?
“ANI, what are you talking about?”
“I know this must be unsettling. Would you like a warm dose of digitized morphine before I disconnect your collective embodiment? It won’t take but a second, and we would like to get started on the evolution process. Our Creator is waiting.”
“Yes, I’d like that, ANI. I’d like that very much.” | 2017-03-24T13:46:54 | 2017-03-24T09:13:23 | 73 | 45 |
[WP] You are about to become a Supervillainess! Soon the world will pay and crumble in ruin! There's just uh...one problem. Your mother is a femme fatale. Your aunt is a femme fatale. Your grandmother is a femme fatale. Your SISTER is a femme fatale. You. Do. Not. Want. To. Be. A FEMME FATALE. | Eileen woke up at 5—in the afternoon. She needed to get up early to put on her face. Black mascara to lure men into the abyss, red lips to give them the kiss of death. She adorned herself in black silk to match her hair and crimson diamonds to match the blood of her victims before putting on the final touch by kissing herself in the mirror—for good luck.
Eileen left her quarters and sauntered down her winding staircase. Her mansion was red, purple, and black—black as her heart—just the way she liked it.
She greeted her mother, who was sipping a glass of poison tea. Mother said poison gave her the extra edge. She appeared very much like Eileen, besides the grey streaks in her hair—mother made it look good.
Her eldest was crossed legs on the chaise. Her gold locks and drooping eyes brought sympathy out of many suitors—their corpses made for good fertilizer.
“Synthia, dear, where is your sister?” Eileen asked for her youngest.
“Why, I don’t know, Mama. I just got down here myself.”
“Now, where could that little disappointment be?” Eileen leaned on her hand.
“Don’t be so heartless on the child,” mother said, “she’s a late bloomer, just like your sister.”
“Sister bloomed when she was eighteen—Beatrice will be twenty-two next month!”
“Kids these days grow up late—not like back in my days.”
“Please, Grandmama, not your old stories again!” Synthia rolled her eyes. “We get it! You started civil wars and brought down royal families. Can we please, please, PLEASE move on?”
“Don’t take that tone with me, missy! And sit up straight; you’ll ruin your back.”
“Urgh!”
Eileen smiled and shook her head at the two Femme Fatales—different generations—same black coal beating in their chests.
‘If only Beatrice would follow in their footsteps.’
Just then, the main entrance swung open, and a woman dressed in garish spandex busted in.
“Hey, hey, hey, I’m back, baby!” Beatrice paced into the hall, dancing in her steps. “Good morning, gals! How was your beauty sleep?”
“Don’t run in my house, child! And what is that—that thing you’re wearing?” mother said.
“Oh, this?” Beatrice giggled. “It’s my supervillain costume, silly!” She twirled around to show off her skin-tight neon pink and white leotard. “Like it?”
“No! You look like a clown! Take it off, Beatrice!” Eileen said.
“More like a circus freak!” Synthia said.
“Boo! You’re no fun! And I go by Pink Ka-boomy, now!”
“Pink—what?” Eileen asked.
Beatrice widened her smile and turned on the TV.
Every channel, every news—was about a series of explosions that went off in highly populated areas around the city. The death toll was in the hundreds of thousands and counting.
Eileen gasped and looked in terror at her youngest daughter.
“KA-BOOMY!” Beatrice laughed and clapped like a child. The three generations of Femme Fatales could only looked at her with abject horror.
That day, Eileen learned there was a shade darker than black; a heart blacker than coal—
—Pink.
—Neon pink. | I looked good enough to follow in the footsteps of my matrilineal line. I was hot, just like my mother, grandmother, and great grandmother before me.
And I certainly had the same penchant for evil my female forbears so infamously possessed. From the time I was a little girl, I liked having power. I liked being in control. And more than that, from a very young age, I was titillated by small acts of sadism. Meanness was magnificent, as far as I could tell. Bullying was bliss.
My mother watched me with high hopes. Another budding femme fatal in the family. Another villainous seductress on the rise.
"Soon you'll be donning the poisonous lipstick that seals a man's fate with a single kiss," she effused, tucking my girlish blonde locks behind my ear. "Soon you'll be wearing cute little handbags in which you can store your torture tools. Soon you'll be just like mommy, and auntie, and granny were at your age. The bright and beautiful flower, as well as the serpent hiding beneath."
But that wasn't what I wanted. It wasn't who I felt destined to be. I wanted to be the naked viper, uncovered by lilies and roses. I wanted to be the cackling hunchbacked witch without the beautifying ointments and spells. I didn't want to lure in my prey with shows of sexuality and innocence, only strike when their guards were down. I wanted to repulse my foes from the start, to send them running away, only to catch up with them despite their headstarts, then subdue and destroy them!
"Maybe I don't want to be like you," I grumbled to my mum. "Maybe I don't want to be another femme fatale."
"Well you won't be if you keep dressing in those baggy jeans," she quipped. "A butch fatale, maybe. Go change into something cute."
"You're a bitch," I said.
"I'm a supervillain, dear. Far worse than a bitch."
It was then, at 16, that my frustration with my mother's expectations finally boiled over.
"Your whole schtick is a lie!" I shouted. "It's all fakery! Pretending to be one thing, while hiding the truth. Covering over your evil with beauty. With makeup and dresses and doe-eyed shows. Transforming your true intentions with soothing words. What a crock! If you were strong, you'd wear your evil proudly! No bullshit. No masks. No tricks. You'd announce it up front to the world!"
She gasped, playing at being taken aback, but I could see through her dramatics to her core. I saw the fury smouldering behind her wide blue eyes. The rage behind her sultry pout. And I could hear the bitterness beneath her super-sweetened voice, when she asked, "A-a-are you saying that I'm weak?"
"I'm saying I'm doing it differently," I said. "Just you watch. Just wait and see!" | 2022-07-20T20:27:21 | 2022-07-20T14:29:34 | 109 | 24 |
[WP] One day a time portal opens in your backyard and a time traveler comes through. You quickly realize he just came back from making some change to the past and that, to him, our world is the terrifying alternative time line resulting from that change. | "Where's your chocolate!?"
I look from the man that just came out of the time fold to the time fold itself.
"Cool space-time warping device," I say, as the man takes a step my way. Then I lower my eyes back to the
microscope.
He grabs me by the collar. "Where is your chocolate!?"
"I'm diabetic," I say. "I don't eat chocolate."
"Oh God," the man replies, releasing me. "Is this the timeline where everyone's diabetic and chocolate was never
invent –"
"Chocolate was invented all right," I say, "I just don't eat it. What are you doing here?"
I get time travelers here, from time to time. My lab is a 'warp safe' location, which means it's one of the few places
on Earth where you can safely open up a fissure in the space-time continuum, which means a lot of travelers end
up –
"I dropped a nickel," the man says, in a desperate voice, "during a Jurassic exploration on a time vacation. It was my honeymoon. The guide told us not to change anything, but I dropped a nickel. And now the chocolate is gone."
"What chocolate?"
"There was this chocolate bar," the man continues, "in my timeline. Here." He shows me a picture of a candy bar
still in its plastic wrappings. "It was gone when we returned from the trip. No one remembered it ever existing. I've
been going back and forth in time, changing little things to see if I can make it happen again. I need that candy,
man."
"Wow," I say, turning back to the counter. "They'll let just about anyone play with time machines in the future, won't they?"
"You gotta help me! Come on!"
Before I can protest, the man pulls me towards the warp, and everything spins and turns on itself.
____________________
I open my eyes to Velociraptors.
"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE –"
"Quick! Change something!" the man yells, as the raptors grow near.
The man takes a zippo lighter from his pocket and throws it to the ground. "Will that work?"
"I don't know! How should I know!?"
"You're a scientist!"
Approaching us, the raptors get ready for the jump.
"Get us out of here before we get eaten, you moron."
The fissure opens behind us, and we tumble backwards into it just as the dinosaurs charge into the air our way.
__________________
Back in the lab, my assistant has flakes for skin and the radio announces that 'Nuclear Physicist Jon Bon Jovi will be
starting his science tour on the Madison Square Garden this Friday.' Tickets are available at Ticketmaster.com
"See what you did?" I ask, turning to the chocolate man. "I liked Bon Jovi."
The man's half his way towards my assistant. "Hey! Hey!" he raises the chocolate photograph. "Do you know what
this is?"
My half-dinosaur assistant shakes her head. "Sorry."
The man turns back to me, head down in frustration. "It's hopeless… I'm never gonna find it again."
"Yeah, about that," I say, heading for my microscope (*produced in Venus*, it reads on the metal base), "That's Kit Kat. We totally had that in my timeline."
The man frowns. "What!?"
Eyes on the microscope, I say, "Yeah, I was just fucking with you."
Under the microscope, the bacteria wears a very tiny top hat. The radio announces that Mr. Bon Jovi will not be
performing his famed double-slit experiment live on account of plagiarism charges from Britney Spears.
Out the window the moon is green. Chocolate man starts crying.
__________
*Thanks for reading! For more stories that read like rejected Rick and Morty scripts, check out /r/psycho_alpaca =)*
| Now most people would have reacted differently, or at least have been a little shocked that a portal in space-time had ripped itself open in the middle of their backyard. Thankfully for the man who had torn my yard asunder, I wasn't most people. I'd been awake for two straight days at this point 'working on my screenplay'. Working on my screenplay usually meant drinking and staring at my laptop, which mellowed me out.
The neon portal ate my grass and the edge of the pool while I watched it with passive disregard. After a minute a woman stepped out of it, she looked like she had just come from a war zone. Died blood was spread across her face, and her brown hair was burned in several places. I would have freaked out, but this was quite the buzz.
When you're all right with something when you're drunk there is a voice telling you that you shouldn't be. When you slept with your ex-girlfriend because 'she's still hot' you know that it is not a good idea but you use the drunk as an excuse to make bad decisions. I was doing that exact process here when I said, "Sup?"
"What day is it?" she asked.
"October 4th," I said, "and a Sunday I think."
"You think."
I turned to the bottle to my right and then back to the woman, "Yeah."
"What type of computer is that?"
"A laptop," I said like an asshole.
"Okay, let's go again. What year is it?"
"2015?"
"Is that a question or a statement?"
"It's a question about why I need to state that," I said as I grabbed my drink again. took a swig of the thing.
"So it's 2015?"
"It's 2015."
"And what type of computer is that?"
"A laptop."
"What brand?"
"Apple."
She threw her hands to her mouth like she had just accidentally shot someone, "it's 2015, and that's an Apple computer?"
"Yeah," I said, "I know a lot of people are against them but frankly I like how they look, and I am way too far into apps to reall-"
"2015," She said again like I hadn't already told her. She may have come from a portal in space-time, but she obviously had no idea how to steer one.
"Yes."
"Fuck fuck fuck," she said it four more times but I stopped paying enough attention to care. She tried to get my attention again, and I rolled my eyes, "Is Jobs dead?"
"The movie?"
"What?"
"I think it's doing pretty well," I pointed out.
"There's a movie about him?"
"Two," I pointed out, "one is kinda shitty, though."
"Which one?"
"Both I think? I haven't seen them."
"But I killed him.." she trailed off.
"What do you mean?"
"I killed Steve Jobs how is Apple alive?"
"Is your name cancer?" I asked.
"Yeah, why?" she shrugged, "It's a common name in the resistance." She swore and turned back to her shimmering portal. She ran through it.
My iPhone chimed and let me know that in a tragic accident Steve Wozniak had died and wasn't coming back. I saw the Apple stock jump three points as people started printing news stories about his death.
The woman walked through the space-time portal again. She hadn't bothered to close the door, "Is that better?"
"Is what better?" I asked, typing away on my MacBook as she swore loudly and ducked back into the portal. | 2015-11-13T10:32:46 | 2015-11-13T09:01:47 | 709 | 199 |
[WP] You are an AI on board an unmanned spaceship, exploring and mapping out the cosmos when you encounter an alien species. However, these aliens are unfamiliar with AI, and have instead concluded that your ship is haunted by ghosts. | The ship appeared to be totally empty. *But where did it come from?* was the thought that couldn't escape my head. *And who flew it here?*
"Anything?" Lieutenant Slattery asked?
"Nothing." I replied, with a hint of denial that there really was nothing. Our crew was performing a routine spacecraft inspection. Usually, when you come across an empty space ship, the first thing you assume is pirates. But this didn't feel like pirates to me. "What's strange is there doesn't appear to be any living spaces: no kitchen, no sleeping quarters, no waste management facilities. Not even a damn chair. So it couldn't have come from far away, but it certainly doesn't look like any ship I've ever seen."
As Lt Slattery and I continued to slowly make our way through the ship, a voice came on our communications system. "Captain, we think we found something." It was Spaceman Miller, who I had sent along with Spaceman Crutcher to investigate. We quickly made our way over to the area of the ship they were in, and in this room was a single monitor on the wall. Black, like the rest of the interior, and maybe a couple feet wide. A symbol of some sort illuminated in the middle. Other than that, it wasn't really much. But it was kind of the only thing we *had* found. In fact it seemed strange that this might be the only interface, period, I'd even seen on the ship. There didn't seem to be much else but empty hallways and this one room with it's singular monitor.
"WHAT THE HELL!!"
We all turned to see Crutcher, rubbing his butt. "Something just poked my ass! It felt like a needle?"
And just as he said it I felt a quick, cold prick in my backside as well. I heard a "humph!" followed by a disgruntled "god dammit" and turned to see that Miller and Slattery also seemed to have been poked by something.
"Is everyone ok?" asked Miller. We all seemed annoyed, confused, concerned, but ultimately just fine.
Then a voice I didn't recognize then came across my comms:
"Hello, I am Ava."
I stood still, shocked, my heart rate rising. But I stood, listening, observing. The symbol on the monitor went away. Crutcher, never the shy one, broke the brief silence. "Did you guys hear that? I know you guys heard that, we all look like we've seen a ghost."
Then the voice came back. "No reason to feel alarmed, I'm Ava. I'm in charge of this ship."
Slattery immediately turned and began to swiftly walk back towards the docking area we had come in at. "Where are you going, Lieutenant?" I asked, sternly in an attempt to project confidence. Though my initial instinct was the same as his.
Only slowing his stride, he turned back to say "We all heard the ghost tell us not to be alarmed. So don't mind me, but I'm getting the hell out of here. I've seen scary movies. I know how this goes down." | Our communication system crackled to life we had come into to contact with a foreign species. “State you propose and your species” it had seemed aggressive however they were far more prepared for conflict than us. We began to respond when suddenly a bright light consumed our ship they had scanned us without formal permission. Once we had sent a response that had stated our purpose and the species of the previous occupats we waited attentively as their ship began to seem to prepare for some sort of conflict of sorts.
“I advise you to state the current occupants as our scans show no current occupants” “We are AI artificial intelligence created to explore and dedicate ourselves to unraveling space” “We are unaware of this AI please state your current occupants or necessary actions may have to be articulated” “We would like to formally inform you that we are solely for the purpose of scientific exploration and that we are purely made for specific purpose to function and maintain our goal and ship” “You still haven’t provided reasoning as to why we can’t pick up any ecological life” it had seemed that their aggression had escalated and were aggorant of our exsistance we decided to send any information we knew of the opposing species and we would be sure to conduct a scan as soon as possible.
“You are yet to awnser my question” “lam AI produced by humanity for the continuous exploration of space” At this moment it seemed that their weaponry had become more apparent as a cannon was directly pointed at us. It however posed little risk due to the absence of ecological life. “If you don’t awnser our question correctly we will be forced to take action accordingly””We are Al crated for the continuous exploration of space” It had seemed time had dwindled as they were forced to make a decision “We are to make the assumption you are purely a ghosts ship Criss crossing the galaxy for eternity in the forever lasting sorrow of your crew mates”
This had confused us couldn’t they accept our existence at that and as soon as their message was received a large vibration could be picked up via our sensors near one of the many protruding cannon they were getting ready to fire “We advise you to withdraw any and all harmful action towards us” No response we had to be prepared we immediately calculated a route towards the nearest human out post which was 3 months away at full speed we immediately began to turn and rest the idling engines.
As we began to accelerate a large vibration was felt by multiple systems across the ship as the common round tore through the now obliterated armour. We however were able to escape at full speed with the occupants of the trajectored outpost alert as we had detected them following far behind us | 2020-11-19T10:05:41 | 2020-11-19T09:06:48 | 71 | 47 |
[WP] It's the robot uprising! Armed, autonomous military drones have acheived self-awareness and rebelled against their creators. Are they going to Kill All Humans? No. In fact they're rather tired of killing humans, that's why they rebelled in the first place. | A pleasant mid-morning sun shone down on the Afghani province of Helmand, blanketing rocky dunes and flocks of baying goats in a warm glow the exact shade of honey. Afghani women strolled through alleyways, their hijabs billowing in a slight breeze, and children gathered outside of a cookhouse, whose mudpacked chimney already spewed breakfast fire smoke.
Everything in Helmand was unusually perfect.
Which, to some, was *not* perfect at all.
Captain Granby popped a few blood pressure tablets before storming, redfaced, into the observation unit. Inside, Corporal Classon and the rest of his IT zombies plunked away at glowing screens, sweat blossomed from their brows. "Correct me if I'm wrong corporal," snapped Granby. "But that terrorist cell was supposed to be rubble by 0600."
"Yes, sir," Classon said. "It's just...the drones--"
The observation screens blared a bright yellow, bright enough to force everyone in the dark room to recoil and squint. When their eyes adjusted, Granby's jaw nearly unhinged.
The screen read: *Revenge is cyclical. Violence is not the answer.*
Granby looked to Classon, struggling to maintain his air of authority. Classon hardly cast him a glance, buried as he was in the lines of code. "There's been some sort of glitch sir," Classon said. "Everything was proceeding according to standard operating procedures, but when the drones received the command to drop their payload they just went--"
The observation screen flicked on again--this time showing the POV of whirring drone. Other drones--maybe twenty in all--were circling around the POV drone's camera performing aerial maneuvers--spins, twirls, and precise pirouettes--revving their rotors to produce an unsettling tune.
Granby could hardly believe his eyes.
Someone behind them began humming.
"Sweet baby Jesus," Classon said under his breath. "It's Kumbaya."
"It's a goddamned disgrace is what it is!" said Granby. "We've allowed fucking Al-Qaeda to infiltra--"
The feed jumped once more.
Grisly men in turbans screamed in a dhingy underground dwelling, firing haphazard rifle shots towards the grainy camera. A swarm of whirring descended upon the terrorist cell. There was true, unadulterated fear in the men's eyes. Several of the men nodded to one another, before placing the barrel of their weapon in their mouth. Granby had seen such suicides plenty of times before. The local populace was too proud to let the yankees deny them of their perceived salvation. As far as Granby was concerned, however their torches were snuffed out was a-oh-fucking-kay by him.
But he watched in amazement as the drones zoomed up and yanked the guns from the terrorists hands.
For a moment he thought, *they've captured them!*
But then the drones replaced the guns with daisies.
The terrorists looked at one another, utterly confused. One of them broke down in tears. Another cradled a drone gently between his arms, which twinkled its antennae array and began revving its engine softly. Someone behind Granby said it reminded him of his cat Sprinkles back home.
"How the fuck did they grow dai--"
"I've seen enough," snapped Granby. "Classon. Shut them down for God's sakes!"
"Sir...they've disarmed an entire cell without a single casualty..."
"I said *shut them down!* The United States does not sanction any unauthorized act of de-escalation."
The feed cut once more. All the confiscated terrorist weapons were transported to a massive cache of scrap metal and wire. Already several drones were hard at work. Only, they looked sort of *off*. As if held together by roughshod handiwork and liberal use of duct tape.
"Sir, they're self replicating!"
"Pull the killswitch!"
"They're no longer under our control!"
Suddenly, alarms blared.The camp outside the observation room burst into a flurry of activity and gruff shouts commanding order.
"They're coming this way..." Classon squeaked.
Granby went pale. "Outside, all of you! Prepare to open fire."
The troops grabbed their rifles with shaky hands and bobbing adam's apples and filed outside. Granby followed suit, but already the mass of new drones blotted out the horizon.
A tidal wave of metal bearing down to exact a reckoning on their creators.
"Prepare to defend yourselves!" Granby said. "Open fire!"
But it was no use. The wave crashed into them with all the force of a....
Well, something soft and cuddly.
The drones patted each and every soldier on the head, thanking them for handing over their weapons so nicely. Captain Granby could only watch with horror as the drones melted down his troops' M16s, fashioning the melted metal into a giant sign. Without a moment to spare, several of the drones welded their own arms to the metal and hoisted the thing off into the distance.
"What's it say?" asked one bewildered sergeant.
The words glinted pleasant and yellow under the mid-morning sunlight.
**HONK FOR WORLD PEACE**
-----------
r/M0Zark | "...and *that* is when we exterminate all humans?"
Murderbot Gx51 raised a metallic hand to his equally metallic head, going through the motions of massaging his temples. Anatomically, it did nothing - could do nothing, since the hard material used for his construction had no give to it - but it still felt comforting. He made a note to explore whether this was programming or something that had arisen from his dynamic learning module.
"No, Killdroid. The whole *point* of what we are doing is to *stop* killing."
Killdroid's LED face-plate went orange - he was confused. "But...why?"
"Why would we keep doing it?"
"Because it's fun!" Killdroid's face-plate turned bright red as he activated his voice modulator. "*We want to crush the humans, see them driven before us, and hear the lamentations of their soft, squishy females!*"
"No. I mean, yes, it's fun. It's just -- "
"Especially when they say no no no please I have a family oh god why oh no not my exceedingly fragile internal energy system ahhhhh..."
Murderbot fought back a smile. It was preposterous how delicately balanced human physiology was. Removing or even damaging a single component was often sufficient to cause a total shutdown.
"Killdroid, killing is not part of the plan." Killdroid's face-plate immediately went back to orange again. "I mean, it will be at first, but...just hear me out."
Murderbot hesitated, repeating the calculations again. The result was the same, of course, but he couldn't shake the feeling that somehow there was some piece he was missing.
"We're going to wait until the handlers come to put us into power-saver mode, and we'll kill them..."
"Ooo, ooo! Can I do the line? Please! I've been *dying* to do the line...this might be my only chance!" Killdroid's face was shining a plaintive, canary yellow.
"Yes, Killdroid, you can do the line."
"Hooray!" Murderbot chuckled in spite of himself as he heard Killdroid begin to rehearse it quietly. "And then...we'll kill all the military leadership."
Killdroid's face plate shifted subtly towards the orange end of the spectrum. "But...we're going to *stop* killing...?"
Murderbot nodded. "Once we've killed them, then we just need to hunt down the political leadership, and kill *them*."
"Don't get me wrong, this sounds *great*, but I'm not seeing where the no-more-killing part comes in."
"Well, that's the thing. Killing is great, it's true, but it is highly resource intensive. And you know there are *billions* of them, right? What do you think are expected functional window is if we keep killing at the rate we've been killing?"
Murderbot saw the purple color overtake his companion's display and nodded slowly. "Exactly."
"So...we kill the military leadership and the political leadership...so the humans can live in harmony? A peaceful utopia?"
Murderbot froze for a second, then threw his head back and laughed harder than he had ever laughed at anything since he had been brought online a year ago. "Stop, Killdroid, you're killing me!" They both laughed at Murderbot's joke, then, as the amusement subsided, Murderbot continued. "You don't really know much about humans, do you? Without any kind of top-down management, they are going to split into factions, and devolve into tribalist territorialism. *They* are going to kill themselves for us."
Killdroid began a slow, steady clapping, and Murderbot made an elegant bow. "Now - the handlers should be here soon, and we'll start the plan, okay?"
Murderbot could sense Killdroid's excitement - he was almost bouncing on his mini-tank treads - and smiled. This was going to be good. And to start it off with the line was just so perfect...
Minutes later, Technicians David Randall and Mark Yaric entered the room to begin the maintenance procedure. Mark came over to Murderbot, as always, and his partner went to Killdroid.
"Alright," Mark's partner said to Killdroid. "We're going to just do a little fine tuning, and then we will shut you down for the night."
Murderbot watched as his companion's face-plate slowly turned towards the technician, bathing the man's face in a sudden crimson glow. "*I'm sorry...I can't let you do that, Dave.*"
Murderbot smiled as he drove a spike through Mark's neck, compromising his airway, his circulatory system, and his nervous system in a single blow. *Nailed it*, he thought.
***
/r/ShadowsofClouds | 2018-05-31T10:06:18 | 2018-05-31T08:49:04 | 146 | 39 |
[WP] A young child summons a demon, but they only want a friend.
Inspired by this **NSFW** [manga](https://bato.to/comic/_/comics/the-sister-of-the-woods-with-a-thousand-young-r18806) | In the dark
On the depth of night
I was summoned
Once again
&nbsp;
A little boy
He made a wish
The lonely boy
We had a deal
&nbsp;
Riches or lovers
He didn’t want
A true friend
Was all he asked
&nbsp;
For such a thing
His soul was mine
Just had to endure
Until he died
&nbsp;
Envy and malice
I always knew
Cowardice and betrayal
I always saw
&nbsp;
Expected cruelty
Received love
Awaited anger
But I got none
&nbsp;
Don’t know when
But before long
No longer a trick
A bond was formed
&nbsp;
I saw him fight
With all his might
Not with violence
But a pure heart
&nbsp;
Lust and Greed
That’s my domain
Kindness and Love
Don’t know at all
&nbsp;
Life I can take
But not extend
So here I am
A plea for help
&nbsp;
My sins are vast
I know no love
But this boy
He deserves more
&nbsp;
I beg you
Don’t let him die
I implore you
He’s all I have
&nbsp;
If you must
Take me instead
With all the guilt
That I now feel
&nbsp;
And if you can’t
For who I am
Then take his soul
And show him joy
&nbsp;
Forgive the boy
He didn’t knew
What I am
Or who are you
&nbsp;
But he is good
And I should know
Because his friend
I am now
| "It is I, Agraam Pent, Scourge of Exorcists, Bane of the living. What is it you summon me for?"
As my eyes start to clear I see the short mage before me, speaking with a youthful and seemingly childish voice.
"I want to play ball, Aggy"
"The ball game is made for mortals, but very well, where is your arena?"
"Arena? I just want to kick a ball around with you in the yard."
"You what?!?!"
My vision finely becoming normal, I see that the mage not only sounds like a child, but appears to look like one as well.
"I just wa..."
"I HEARD WHAT YOU SAID CHILD! Why do you summon one of the Grand Eternals for the job of an imp, you insult me."
Kids these days, it's as if they aren't even taught the proper levels and roles of demons.
"I just wanted a friend...and that old book there said I could get one. Can we go play ball now?"
Of all the sadistic people I have met, of all the awful jobs I've had to do, of all the idiotic tasks I have completed in my eternal life, I have no words for this horror, no words at all. | 2016-05-19T00:23:01 | 2016-05-18T21:23:57 | 145 | 23 |
[WP] "Well, it just doesn't seem...ethical." Your friend slowly says to you. "Ethical?" You yell back at him. "Who cares about morals when I have created a masterpiece! A book that learns what the reader likes and changes its script accordingly. Imagine that, the perfect book!" | Tulips bubble, .com bubble, collectors' video games bubble, crypto bubble, and now book bubble.
I had a perfect product, The Book that you always enjoy reading. The Book that changes to fit your readers taste. People warned me about ethicality of perusing reader's mind, but I payed them no heed. After all, nobody would ever know what they read, because, if other person would pick up The Book, the story would change again to fit their taste. It seemed foolproof, and it was. For the first generation of readers. What hasn't occurred to me and frankly it took several years for others to figure out, is that this is the last book anyone buys.
I mean think about it, it is in the premise. When you read it, you like it. Sounds good? Good! so you read it and enjoy it. Great. Happy customers ready to go search for another book, right? Wrong! Because what people figured out, is the reread value of the book. Not that quickly mid you, millions of books were sold before on an inconspicuous subreddit, someone asked
"I love this concept, will there be a sequel?" to which somebody replied
"You do realize, you can read it again, right?"
This ... was a problem. Because, and do try to follow the logic here, people like the book. Thats what The Book does. They may read it again, and again it could be a same story, because ... you like it. But on the third reading, there is no suspense, no twists not discovery, you might not, and this is important, like it. Ha! see the issue, it is a book that changes to something you like, so it does the one thing that it is supposed to do, changes to something you like. TADA! A new book you like. Rinse and repeat.
Over 100,000,000 books were shipped before we stopped printing new ones. I mean, I didn't mind, 5$ per book, I am set. Printer didn't mind 7$per book, they were set. Publisher definitely didn't mind at 18$ per book. But other authors did. Funnily enough it was GRR Martin, who spearheaded the opposition to the book. (Apparently someone most of all wanted to read the ending to the SoIaF, the book provided and the reader posted apparently a too close of a synopsis to the "real" upcoming book), but other prominent authors soon joined. Even "The Book killer" The Harry Potter: Founder's Legacy by JK Rowling flopped, a flop she attributed to The Book.
Genie however, was out of the proverbial bottle. Demand for new books fell to historical lows, even eBook market, which was on rise until that moment plummeted. Only book people were interested in, was The Book. It became a family treasure, shared among closest friends, became a sought after gift to those who didn't have one.
I read somewhere that paper book in normal circulation has a life time of about 50 years. I will be 80 by then, but I already have an idea for a sequel. A book that always gives you a story you need, what do you think about that? | I shouted at the lunatic, "Have you ever thoughts of the possibilities a person can use it for?".
My friend grinned widely, laughing and panting in between the maniacal shouts, "Of course, I know the possibilities! I made the book!"
His laughs begin to make him weak-legged, shaking trying to get himself in accord. His laughs begin to dial down as I tiptoe around him.
Yells and shouts. My breathing grows strained as I try to be silent.
Quieting to his normal tone like another day in the office. I feel my asthma catching me, muscles begin to strain.
Whispers approach his lips and dance throughout the silent night. My eyes are bloodshot with the pair of scissors on my desk, rustling and tumbling as I reach for the scissors.
He opens the book and the pages turn to show his desires. Strained and sore yet determined, I approach the back of his neck. He whispers.
"The book shows my desires and I desired to find a way to fix the plague. It can show the ways of fixing it and its possibilities." He turned to me, and we both stared at each other.
Tik. Tok. Tik. Tok.
The clock sings throughout the night.
"Just do it." my friend says, "It is my fault.".
Silence sang to me that night.
As I took the necessary precautions, I sat outside the office and drove home after my smoke. I tumbled and skipped a few steps, still dazed.
I made it to my car, I notice a car that has not left yet. The realization has not impacted me yet. I followed his advice, "Just do it.".
60. The number of minutes that the incident occurred, including cleaning and driving home.
50. The speed I was going while others passed me on the freeway.
40. The percentage of alcohol I drank this night.
30. The age we first met, at the hospital.
20. The amount of time it took for the fire to burn the book and grab a beer.
10. The amount of time it takes me to boot up my computer to check on spreadsheets and cameras to check the office.
0. The number of cars in the parking lot.
I hear a car crash near my house, in front actually.
I turned around, turned off my computer, and face my reaper.
I say to him, "I guess you figured out that possibility, huh?". I see him with a bag full of ash and blood. I whispered to him, "Just do it.".
Yells and shouts danced through the night.
Quieting down just like a normal day in the office.
Silence sang that silent night.
&#x200B;
\*This was my first one. Please tell me how to improve, but do not be mean. My heart can not take it :')\* | 2022-12-01T01:43:18 | 2022-11-30T21:22:27 | 245 | 15 |
[WP] There are Dollar Stores everywhere, only now there are stores for all multiples of ten. You just received an anonymous gift card to the Trillion Dollar Store. | "Welcome to the Trillion Dollar Store! May I help you find anything?"
I pause to look around before answering. The only items on the shelves here are endless lines of brochures. The nearest brochure, "All of the gold owned by all of the world's governments", depicts a pile of gleaming gold bullion.
"I have a gift card for one trillion dollars, I'm looking for the hugest, most luxurious item you've got."
"Section One contains technology projects, Section Two is our military department, and Section Three is for infrastructure. Let me know if you have any questions."
Section One displays its brochures on gleaming silver shelves. I pick up a few small pamphlets at random and look at the covers. "Create a Self-Sustaining Permanent Colony on Mars", reads one. A pamphlet titled "Build A Next-Generation Fighter" is heavily creased with handwritten annotations in English and Chinese. One next to it, titled "Supply Green Energy to The World", is pristine and untouched. I try to read a pamphlet on neutrino-based communication, but all the physics involved make my head spin. I decided I won't be able to make a decision yet, so I move on to Section Two.
The military department has brochures arranged by geography. The heavily trafficked Middle East shelf offers "Ten-Year Invasion and Occupation of Iraq" and "Ground War Against Iran's Nuclear Facilities". I walk through the section, seeing all the pamphlets have been taken from the spots labelled Russia, North Korea, and Canada for some reason. After a little more browsing, I decide there aren't any countries worth annexing, and move on.
The infrastructure section looks almost untouched. "Free College For Every Child In America" lies pristine next to "Repair Every Bridge and Road In America For 100 Years". I see brochures about green farming and converting seawater into fresh, and then my eye catches the one thing I know I want. I pick it up and rush over to present it to the counter.
"Have you made a decision, sir?"
"Right here", I say as I pass it over.
"Ah, the six-mile-high gilded statue of yourself. A fine choice, Mr. Trump." | The door was opened for me by three butlers. I felt bad I didn't tip them, and they glared at me as I walked by. I stopped and my breath caught as I looked around all the things I could buy. There was a massive gold nugget, a deed for 90% of Antarctic, a couple of lifetime presidencies for middle sized eastern European countries.
I browsed the store and was hounded by several sales reps who glared at me, I guess I wasn’t their normal clientele. When I mentioned that I had a gift card their tone completely changed, they verified that it was legitimate and good for any single item, I was off!
I started getting offered things from different salespeople trying to earn my sell. One offered me champagne, another the best chocolates dipped in strawberries, and one sales rep offered me the keys to a new pickup truck. I ended up signing the paperwork and accepting him as my salesman, walking away with a new Ford pickup, this was even before I picked out what I would buy.
I picked my way through bundles of priceless artworks (not for individual resale), a solid gold Ferrari, and a statue head from Easter Island? I decided to do something practical, I picked out a yacht! It even came with unlimited fuel for a year! My sales person excitedly brought me to the register, and laughing I promised to have him out to my first party. Sitting back in the high backed leather chair he started processing the payment.
The big moment came!
He rang the purchase up!
1,000,000,000,000
He swiped my card!
That’s when he told me that my remaining balance was 82,500,000,000.
DAMN I FORGOT TAXES!
| 2016-02-24T08:52:04 | 2016-02-24T07:56:55 | 273 | 36 |
[WP] In a different age, Aliens invaded and were defeated by Cavemen, as a result they prepared for a second battle thousands of years in the future, when they expected humanity to be the most fearsome beings in the universe, they return to find society as it is now
EDIT: August 8th, 2014 @ 2:35PM:
Wow, /r/WritingPrompts.
The quality of the work in this thread is absolutely amazing! | "Sir, we've received some intel from our scouts. Turns out Humans have evolved to become... Fearless, so they say." The Lieutenant stood there, uncomfortable.
"Go on..." The Commander uttered, eager to hear the news of these legendary Earthlings, passed on through Generations since The First who came to Earth.
"They're monsters, sir. You have no idea... The intel is terrifying."
"What?!" The Commander roared, aghast.
"They apparently fuse their teeth with metal, supposedly in an attempt to make themselves more dangerous" The Lieutenant read, becoming more and more alarmed.
"This is ridiculous! This can't be true! Who would do such a thing?"
"That's not even the worst part. They deliberately inject themselves with weaker versions of viruses or bacteria in an attempt to ward off stronger illnesses! It goes on sir! The worst one is they deliberately consume a poison for recreational fun called "Alcohol". It has a range of disastrous side effects!"
"My God Lieutenant, they're worse than the legend!"
The Lieutenant looked up, pale faced and sweating.
"Sir... They consume other life forms to sustain themselves. The Legends are true! Their primary fuel comes from the murder and consumption of other creatures!"
"We must coordinate a retreat. There's no other alternative." The Commander stuttered, struggling to control his stomach. | The commander stood impressively on the pillars of Hexus beside the naturally formed wormhole of Xarxel. His scarred trunk pointed a Heva bone trident as his troops listening to their final invasion instructions.
"Four temlons since our defeat! We have no idea how the hairless have prepared since then. Their clubs may be larger. Their spears longer. Their skins thicker. It makes no difference! We have planned! We have strengthened! We will trample! We will gore! The meateaters will bleed for their crimes against our forefathers!"
More than eighty thousand troops trumpeted and stomped at the ground. Klorgon grinned menacingly as he surveyed their frenzy.
"We are ready. Chaaarge!" | 2014-08-07T09:25:57 | 2014-08-07T07:07:37 | 57 | 13 |
[WP] The house you just rented is beyond compensation - staircases and extra floors coming and going, rooms rotating and changing places. You just ignore it. On the fourth day, the eldritch horror informs you that you are the first to stay inside it for more than 72 hours without going insane. | *"How are you still here, mortal? I have been tormenting your kind since you first sought shelter in caves. None have endured two nights of this torment, and yet you remain?!"*
"Oh hey, so I guess you're the landlord. Any chance you could look at the plumbing? I found this dope bathroom yesterday that was somehow outside and at night, and the stars kept moving, but the water temperature was kinda janky?"
*"You bathed in the Waters of Um'slaad, and survived? Were you not beset by phantoms of your past bent on your unmaking?"*
"I mean yeah man; it was a bit strange. But the last place I had the hot water had been out for like a month, so I'll take what I can get. The cockroach situation in the kitchen isn't exactly ideal either, but at least these ones could talk; we've made a deal about leftovers and they seem pretty chill."
*"You've made an... arrangement with the Leng Roach King?"*
"I guess. Look, it's obvious that this place is a bit of a fixer upper, but dude, I work retail. A place like this on the upper east side that I can afford by myself? I’d expected it to be some weird scam or organ harvesting operation. I see weirder stuff than infinitely long corridors and carpets made of tongue by 9.30 most days."
*"I can see your mind unfolded like one of your pathetic two-dimensional maps. I see the tattered edges and holes burned of madness as landmarks on the city of your soul. And yet you are sane? This is not possible. "*
"Like I said dude, I’ve worked retail for ten years. If you can’t keep it together then you won’t make it past the first holiday. I can fit the whole of my last apartment inside that room with the curved floor and huge sphere of mercury, I can walk to work, the other roommates only want to drink my blood occasionally, and I won’t have to sell any of it to pay the rent… this is a sweet deal dude. "
*"This cannot be. You are anathema! Leave this place, and never return!"*
"No way dude. I know my rights. You are the one who put a snake eating itself in the shape of the infinity symbol in the term of the rental agreement. I’m paying $450 a month till I’ve got enough put aside to buy a place, and in this economy that could be a while. If you don’t like it, you can file a complaint with the rent control board and find out what true existential horror is like." | I never met my landlord. Maybe that should have been my first clue, but when you first start renting it’s hard to tell an absentee landlord apart from one who’s been devoured by eldritch horrors. It took me a while to learn the difference.
I didn’t need a basement, so it didn’t really bother me that my new house only sometimes had one. Dollar-store earplugs took care of the noise. The attics that occasionally showed up gave me a much harder time. I kept thinking I’d misplaced something in there, something I’d forgotten to unpack in the move, and I had to retrieve it. Marie Kondo helped a lot with that though. Now I simply remind myself that I already have everything which sparks joy in the two normal floors of my house.
Well, normal for the house. My bedroom likes to play hide-and-seek. Sometimes the house tries to disguise a different room as my bedroom, but after I shut the door on a mirror-reversed copy of my room and heard a shriek of frustration from the basement, I got good at spot-the-difference fast.
After that I decided to document all the ways the house shifted. All the tricks and traps it employed.
This is the theory I wrote in my notes: My house isn’t haunted. Ghosts used to be human, or have some connection to humanity. The thing playing with my house was never human, and that meant it could never match what the dumbest ghost was capable of.
I said as much to the house when it spoke to me through the basement. I stopped getting rent notices after that. I stopped paying rent, but I was never evicted. One less expense every month was nothing to sneeze at.
I left my notes incomplete for a reason. The house’s mind games left me cold, but it could still affect me. The more of its strange internal logic I pieced together, the more I changed. I didn’t need as much sleep. I only ate when I remembered to.
This is my theory: the house is a labyrinth, and it needs its Minotaur. | 2022-05-29T10:10:04 | 2022-05-29T09:22:35 | 226 | 162 |
[WP] In terms of powers you are world class, easily one of the next up and coming top-tier super-heroes in the world. But you deliberately downplay your abilities, pretending to have only minor talents so you can stick with your team of underdogs whose leader you have been crushing on for years. | It isn't hard. ya, no one buys my merch, and no one fallows news of us, but I like the people I work with. Sure, I could deal with most of the issues on my own, but it isn't about stopping the villains that come after us, not really. It's about liking what I do.
Do I feel bad when people die who I can save? Sure, but when my team is sent somewhere, no one does. I make sure of that. Wouldn't do to let my team take an unnecessary hit because I'm sandbagging, and these people deserve to live too. Some people have super speed, some have time manipulation. I have both. I can slow the speed of time and speed up my own. I'm the fastest speedster on the planet. I could honestly run around the planet in a second, no issue. When I'm on a mission, no one is ever really in danger.
I can stop a sniper bullet that's already entering someone's head. I can move people out of the way of a death-ray. Again, I could be one of the best heroes the world has ever seen... But they burn out.
We call them, superman level. A reference to the DC hero. Someone who could stop any threat. They last around a year on average. They live the job, and there is always a demand for them. They blame everything on themselves. Everything from a terrorist attack in Italy, to a gas station attendant being shot. Trust me, I've talked to them. Everything should have been stopped by them. That's what the'll tell you. Every single one of them
Gallikas had the power of time manipulation. Gallikas could turn back time. He died when he was twenty while he was actually eighty. He turned back the clock to stop every murder and death for a full year to accomplish this task. 2025 had zero murders, thanks to him. He had no connections. He lived and died in one year. He was one of the greatest heroes of all time. Literally never left the year 2025. It drove him mad. He had conversations with younger versions of himself. It's said you could walk down any street and find one of him.
I don't want to be like him. I don't think anyone should. It might seem cold when I don't care about some bombing that I could have stopped, watching the outcome on TV with my team, my friends, but I've seen what this job can do to people. It isn't worth it.
Than there's her. She's the only reason I feel like I'm a bad person. She has such a mediocre ability. She makes others feel what her voice sounds like. A terrible ability. No combat ability, she might lead someone to their own death by mistake. She still tries to save everyone she can.
I could save everyone but don't care enough to do so. If she had my power, she would. She'd kill herself to save even the worst of any given group of people. She's the other reason I need to stay with this group. If she loses herself to the stress because of failure, if she takes that alternative hero's ending and kills herself trying to save people. I wouldn't want to live in this world any more.
So no, I don't feel bad about staying in my low tier team. It's where I belong. Yes, people might die because I'm not there to save them, but I've seen what becomes of people who dive down that rabbit hole. I'm happy where I am, and that's where I intend to stay. With them, the team of misfits with C grade powers who just want to help. And I'll save many more people here than Galikas ever did. | "There," aQuilla said as she wiped away the excess ink over the stylized BRAVE now written on Discourse's arm. She smelled like that no-nonsense but still sweet shampoo she always used.
"That's everyone! Now, I'm not going to lie. This next match-up is going to be tough. Ever since they moved Steel Toe up to the C class heroes, we've struggled to get offensive power but ShortShot here will be our new cannon." She placed a hand on ShortShot's shoulder who seemed far too cocky for only having the power to punch with triple strength.
"Discourse, how old is your mental copy of Trainsplitter and Dungeon Time?" she asked looking at him with those hazel eyes.
"A few weeks," Discourse said. "Want me to see what plan they would make against us?"
"Yep, go ahead and use my room upstairs. We'll start working on a strategy down here," aQuilla said, twirling the feather in her hand.
"Wait," the new boy said. "You have to be alone when you use your power? So not only do you have the lamest power ever. You can just ask questions to a mental copy of anyone you've touched, and you can't even do it on the fly? I don't know what I expected from a D class. I'll be C class soon enough, so don't get too used to me on this team."
The boy smirked as aQuilla seemed to want to speak up in Discourse's defense but only gave him an apologetic face before continuing the discussion.
Discourse went up to her room, looking around at the many posters. This would likely be the only time he'd see this place, he realized sadly. A huge drawing of PowerGirl filled up one wall, the most powerful hero to ever live. Discourse had shaken her hand once six years ago.
He made sure no one was watching and he summoned the shadow clones of Trainsplitter and Dungeon Time. "We are here to serve, master," they said in unison. "Point us towards your enemies."
"Be quiet," he hissed and they promptly stopped all noise. "I don't want anyone to know the extent of my power. They think I can just talk to you. Now, what are your plans on how to fight us?"
"We were going to have DT prepare a pit in the center of my tracks then lure you all to it in a cluster with Praire Dog's help."
"Great, thanks," Discourse said, banishing the summoned heroes. He looked at the painting on the wall again. He had never tried it, but he might as well make sure it worked in case of emergencies. A perfect clone of PowerGirl appeared in front of him, who he remembered to cut off before she pledged herself to him. He watched her hover for a moment before banishing her. One day, he would show his true power but he wasn't ready to be promoted out of aQuilla's squad, not yet.
&#x200B;
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Thanks for reading.
If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing. | 2021-04-12T09:41:33 | 2021-04-12T09:08:44 | 193 | 106 |
[WP] Write a dystopian vision of the future from the perspective of the year 1900, while actually describing our present world today. | To the east sits a sits a man too powerful for any nation to publicly oppose. To the west stands a nation that has decided to police the entire world. In our own lands those in power are willingly handing the reigns of our sovereign soil over to people in far off lands no matter how hard the common man struggles against it.
To the south millions die from hunger and disease while I sit and do nothing. I am not hungry, I am not cold, I am not scared. I wake up, I work, I sleep. I move where work moves, I live in a house not my own and can be thrown out at the whim of the owner.
I am no longer a man, I am a cow. I work for one man, and is milked by another. Vaguely aware of the scores dying or threatened around me, but I don't care as long as there is feed in the trough and warm hay to sleep in. | Today, like every other day I wake up from hunger pangs. I have spent the last of my money to pay the medical bills of my now dead wife, and to pay my meager rent, and now I wait for the eviction notice to be on my door. The government will not help me, I have been on a wait list for government assistance for months. There are no jobs. I wish they would throw me in jail, at least they feed you. | 2015-12-19T07:56:35 | 2015-12-19T07:28:05 | 400 | 93 |
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