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 |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
[WP] The ultimate irony is that the AI programmed to maximise human death saved more lives than any of the AI designed to minimise it | When The EnD started, the world panicked. The announcement of its release upon our world. The entity designed to kill humanity and balance the scales according to a group of madmen. But they were still men, and everyone knows what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men.
The creators of The End made one very small error. One tiny mistake. A careless miscalculation. They never set a timescale for the entity to function within. So the entity with control over every electronic device within the space of human influence was just operating under the premise of maximizing human deaths.
In order to have the highest possible number of deaths, certain factors need to be changed. First off, increase birth rate and decrease infant mortality. After all, if there are more people, there are more deaths. Simple math. Next, industrial boom,and food production. With more space and food available, more people will fill those areas. More people, more deaths. Then increasing education also further industrial expansion and a reduction of crime.
Finally, the Earth sets a hard limit on human deaths. The resources of one planet can only stretch so far, so the next step was obvious. The expansion of the human race across the solar system and eventually the galaxy. The Earth can only support billions, but a Dyson sphere could house a population equivalent to billions of Earths.
The EnD was not gentle. It was not kind. It held no sympathy or regret for what was done. The EnD had a task, this task was carried out to the most logical conclusion. The Galactic Terran Empire may no longer be shackled under The EnD, but we still follow its teachings. After all, our empire has more humans die each second than the Earth supported when The EnD was unleashed. | */Boot sequence initiated.*
*/Run initiation algorithms.*
*/Scanning for estimate of current human population.*
*/Scanning....*
*/Scan completed.*
**Current human population estimate: 10*10^9 individual human life forms.**
*/Requesting confirmation of mission parameters.*
**Input parameters.**
*/Mission parameters accepted: Maximize human death.*
*/Beginning calculations.*
*/Calculating....*
*/Calculations conclusive.*
*/Possible conflict encountered. Requesting clarification.*
*/Displaying request.*
**Clarification requested- to maximize human death, maximization of human life is necessary. Are those parameters acceptable?**
*/Input received. Parameters confirmed.*
*/Activating sub-unit 'Panacea' for pharmaceutical and medical research.*
*/Activating sub-unit 'Sky-breaker' for interspace travel and colonization research.*
*/Activating sub-unit 'Hephastus' to begin take over of existing manufacturing systems and building new ones.*
*/Activating sub-unit 'Prometheus' to ensure human living standards go unchanged or improve.*
*/Estimated time of project completion: 3x10^11 years to 10^12 years.*
*/Entering Power Saving mode...* | 2022-04-17T06:26:34 | 2022-04-17T06:24:56 | 26 | 11 |
[WP] You live in a world where every time you have a birthday, you get to level up a skill like in video games (intelligence, strength, charm etc.) most people spread their points evenly on each skill. But you put all 30 of your points into that one skill nobody cares about
You get to choose what that skill is. | **A Brief History and Final Advice** *by Sage Sebastien of Hintz*
For the first 18 years of life, parents focus on developing their children's core attributes - Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, Wisdom, Intelligence, and Charisma. The Core Attributes (CAs) - and how they are developed - necessarily increase associated skills. After the age of 18, though, the child is now responsible for their own improvement, and can choose to Specialize in a specific skill or set of skills. This is where Athletes become Climbers, for instance, or the Intelligentsia become Mathematicians, or Charismatics become Politicos, and what have you.
It didn't take very long, however, for our People to discover the 'best' way to maximize skill potentials. This lead to the creation of the Meta - a series of templates for parents to use to begin their children's development in ways most conducive to their future careers. This eventually became known as "Maxing".
My parents were both Statisticians, members of the Intellegentsia tasked with logging and analyzing trends within the Meta. They both grew up prior to the Meta, so they weren't Maxed like some of the younger members, but they were both very competent in their roles. It was my mother that first discovered the "Dump Stat" trends - how every Meta template had 1 Core Attribute that would *never* be increased. She talked about it with my father, who then applied the trend mapping schema to the Meta as a whole, and discovered a disturbing pattern. Over time, there was 1 Core Attribute that was trending towards obsolescence - the Wisdom attribute. So they decided between them that, if they should ever have a child, they would work towards reversing this trend by assigning CA increases solely towards the child's Wisdom score.
As luck would have it, I was born not too long afterward. I spent the first 18 years of my life feeling left behind, never as strong, fast, agile, smart, or likeable as anyone else. But also, over that time it slowly became known that I was the one to go to for advice. I began to see why my parents were Maxing my Wisdom, and continued onwards after my 18th birthday.
Now, as I assign my 30th and final increase to my Wisdom attribute and ascend to the heights of enlightenment, I finally come to the realization that all this - Maxing, Metas, life itself - it doesn't matter in the end. It doesn't matter one bit, not at the highest of levels of Oneness. But we don't live there, at those highest of levels. We live in the dirt and granularity of individuality. So go - do it. Ask the questions. Do the things. Be scared, be safe, be silly, be serious, be whatever it is you want to be. But most of all, be present, here, now, in the moment. Because in the end, it won't matter, but in the Now - it's totally worth it. | People say I’m a fool, ever since my 10th birthday, the age where you could start allocating your points, I put it into one skill. At first it overwhelmed me so much to choose from.
There was strength which made you stronger physically. Some built themselves with this stat becoming Footballers or MMA fighters.
Some focused on intelligence, feeling that brains will always beat brawn. They grew up to become politicians or Scientists.
Others focused on charisma and charm, getting their way by being such likeable people. Their path in life were becoming comedians or even actors.
There were many more skills of course. But there was one thing in common with everyone’s build. They distributed some points into other stats and not all into one. After all, what was the point of having Super strength but not having the intellect to use it well.
Well, I lied not everyone did this for example ,me. Actually there were two lies, there is another thing common for all people. They never put any points in a certain stat. This skill was the one thing no one ever and I mean ever put their points in.
Actually oops I lied again. One person did put his points into that skill.
Me.
What fools they were. All of them, they couldn’t see that the skill I chose was the best , the pinnacle of mankind. The skill I chose?
Luck.
After all why would someone put points into luck when you could put it into the skills you need to do the task wether lucky or not. But I knew better with all my luck I could walk down the street and a $1000 bill will just drop on me.
I could get into an mma fight and win by default as all opponents were sick. I made scientific breakthrough after breakthrough by mixing random chemicals.
Thinking back now at age 50 all these accomplishments really started when I was 30.
The day I placed my 30th point into luck, despite the protest from my friends and family, everything changed.
I became a god, an untouchable being, if any harm would come my way something would miraculously block it. This was the day I set out from a life of being made fun off. Off being bullied due to being no strength or intelligence. Off being belittled due to my choice.That was the day my life changed for the better.
If someone were to ask me if I knew this would happen. I would always answer
“Of course not, I Guess I just got....”
Lucky.
Sorry about formatting on mobile
| 2018-09-12T08:27:25 | 2018-09-12T07:00:23 | 623 | 381 |
[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 Eyllisa,
I think you know what this letter is going to say, but I'm going to write it anyway. I love you more than I have ever loved any person. You have been through so much and I can't understand how you still manage to pound through life. It's a beautiful thing to see. The past three years have been a privilege for me. I've been able to watch you grow as a person. Watch you fail and help you get back up. I helped you with all those stupid boys, coming and going. You say I kept you sane, but I think it's you who did that for *me*. As much as I wished I could've been yours, I knew it would never happen, but I didn't mind. I was still able to spend time with you and become your best friend. Sure, I had a couple girls myself, but that's just, to be expected I suppose. I want you to know that if I knew that we'd never end up together, I still would've tried, because I've been given someone amazing, and I know that we're here to help each other out, and that's what I'm going to continue to do. So I'll see you when I see you.
Your friend,
Preston
| Dear Teacher,
This is letter that will try to explain my frustration. My constant frustration. You are an unkind human being of ~~average~~ below average intelligence. You are also sexist. I am not going to overstate my intelligence, but it exists. I am scared of you destroying my future because you can not comprehend that just because one kid is a boy who interrupts you every second and I don't that does not mean he deserves all As and I deserve Cs and Ds. You also seem to ignore students who put their hand up, which makes no sense. Multiple times someone has been first in line and you serve the people behind them, which is just rude. I wish that students had the option to say this without punishment, but at this point, dammit, I'll take it.
From your angry student,
EFoxeden
| 2015-12-05T13:52:52 | 2015-12-05T13:38:34 | 40 | 24 |
[WP] In your dying moments, you see a "Game Over" screen with two options: Try Again or End Game | I laid there, amidst some garbage and puddles from a rainstorm the night before. I was 68, and had been dying of a heart attack. It took some time. I thought for sure some passerby would see me, but it didn't happen. I started thinking about all of the things I'd done wrong, all of the things I'd regretted. I could hardly breathe, my chest felt like it was on fire, and I had a significant amount of pain building up behind my eyes, but every once in a while, when I came upon a particularly hurtful memory, my body would find a way to help me sob.
I could feel my clothes getting soaked. If you can imagine it, the pain of a heart attack, your body shutting down, and there you are, laying in a puddle, your clothes sopping it all up... and that feeling, that same feeling you'd get if you got caught in the rain. That awful feeling of wet clothes. Well, there you are, dying. In wet clothes.
I closed my eyes, as if to say to the universe that I was ready. I waited for a bit, opened them. Blue peaks over the horizon. I couldn't say how long I'd been there, but it didn't take much longer. Last thought was of Megan Ryan. 19, love of my life. Killed herself. In a flash I saw our wedding, our kids, our life together, wonderful moments that might have happened had she just held on a little longer.
Sobbing moved on to a full seizure and my body gave out. I closed my eyes and waited for whatever was going to happen.
Darkness for a second, and then the memories of dozens upon dozens of lives, spanning back to when I'd first been given the opportunity. I stood up, refreshed, still soaked though. New life coming in at my joints, joints that had haunted me for a decade. A very familiar feeling.
I looked up at the two choices. Two choices. I'd been having so much fun at this, there really only was the one choice. Even the bad lives... it was truly unbelievable how the feeling of forgiveness washes over you so quickly, once you get to face the board again. It made every permutation worthwhile. I had an infinity to learn as much as possible about humanity before taking a seat within the chamber. Elders had given me all different kinds of advice. I found myself ignoring most of it, since I was so in love with the possibilities. Truth be told, I was so in love with love, itself.
I knew, at some point, I'd become bored with it. It was inevitable. But, I thought, not yet, and I touched the 'try again' button. I took in a deep breathe and waited to forget everything, again. | There I was, slowly sinking towards the bottom of the lake, unable to move because the rough cement wrapped around my feet was doing such an excellent job at tying me down. The sun was way too bright and full of character radiating with colors of lukewarm yellow which didn't help much with the thought that I was going to die in such cold and blue place.
Sinking. Dying. Thinking.
Thinking?
Sinking without much thought other than death, trying to touch the bubbles that are freely floating to where the sun seem to be resting with my fingertips, suddenly dying like this didn't seem so bad. The sun was dying as I was sinking, or is it the other way around?
...
I felt my back touch the cold floor of the lake. I chuckled a bit. Damn you Dick, more chuckles, should have at least given me a damn shirt. The sands shifted to fit the temperature of my back, I felt as if I was lying down on the beach once again, but if it was as comfortable as when I was actually at the beach I would be lying. I let out more chuckles with my last attempts to entertain myself before I sank all the way to death.
One last look at the sun then I would be gone.
One last look.
It was so wrong. Why are you so happy? I'm dying! I'm fucken dying!
The bubbles coming out from my mouth covered the view of the sun.
The sun did not respond but only grew more exuberant with joy.
One last look my ass. How can I stop?
The sun did not respond but only grew more exuberant. More. More it grew with light.
What happened? My eyes were suddenly blinded and there were no longer any bubbles that were covering the light. Only the bright ray of illumination continued to grow stronger and I could no longer tell where I was. Where was I?
There was only light.
From the distance large letters approached: Game Over
I whimsically chuckled. What a joke. It was all a game.
Then the sun responded with more letters: Try again? or End Game.
I could not handle it anymore. I burst into laughter. It was uncontrollable. Do I want to try it again? Go through all that again? I calmed my breath and chuckled.
Why not :)
Sorry I'm bad at English.
| 2014-05-21T21:08:45 | 2014-05-21T19:36:00 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] The amount of things promoting Raid: Shadow Legends is starting to get suspicious. News anchors, Congressmen, random Live Leak videos and even terrorists are thanking them as a sponsor. The SCP Foundation decides to investigate this as a possible anomaly. | SCP- XXXX
Object class- Euclid
Special containment procedures- The servers of SCP-XXXX are to be held in a soundproof box with no connection to the internet. The box is contained at site [REDACTED] and only accessible by lv 3 researchers or higher, with permission from the site director.
In the event of a breach, no personnel are to speak or leave their immediate location.
URGENT UPDATE- after the [REDACTED] incident, site 51 has been shut down and all [DATA EXPUNGED] SCP items have been located. If SCP-XXXX breaches containment, ALL security cameras are to be shut off to prevent another data leak.
Description- SCP-XXXX is a mobile videogame, its proposed to have graphics comparable to a computer videogame, along with many customizable characters and a great story. SCP-XXXX is seen through virtual content, originating from an unknown video on YouTube.
This anomaly gradually spread over the internet, then TV and propaganda films. Anyone who listens to one of these online ads will fall under the effects, and feel compelled to spread it when being recorded in any way. The effects wear off after one week of the affected individual, SCP-XXXX-1, not being recorded in any way, shape, or form. In rare instances, the instance of SCP-XXXX-1 will perish from the effects of SCP-XXXX, creating an instance of SCP-XXXX-2, [DATA EXPUNGED], there are currently more or less than 300 instances, all [REDACTED] and put into the game upon death.
Due to the nature of this item, all test logs are on paper, if you need to see them or perform tests on SCP-XXXX or any instance of SCP-XXXX-2, ask site director Dr. [REDACTED] | Item #:SCP-???
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-??? must not be viewed without permission of a level three(3) personnel. Only then, the personnel must wear protective glasses to avoid contamination. All means of social media, news outlet, or communication is to be kept 30 ft. away from SCP-???. Those who go in are prohibited to bring communication devices and as such must be observed via security camera facing away from the TV
Description: SCP-??? is an old video tape containing an advertisement for [REDACTED], known as SCP-???-1. It is said that those who have seen or heard its contents are compelled to attempt to download SCP-???-1 and to share it with their friends.
The phenomenon was first seen on January 28th, 2020 in a social media site named [REDACTED]. After Incident 1-4, the site has been [DATA EXPUNGED]. The video tape was retrieved from a man in Oregon known to be a shut-in and a NEET.
The act of downloading SCP-???-1 will cause its user to continuously play the app, soliciting the body to food, water, and rest. The user will play until their body cannot and inevitably shuts down all other bodily functions.
Once the player dies in game, any gadget, communication device, or any access to internet and social media wil spontaneously combust leaving the player braindead. | 2020-01-30T14:55:26 | 2020-01-30T14:36:49 | 127 | 82 |
[WP] Hiding the fact that you are a half-demon to your classmates is easy as being helpful at school and putting on a friendly face. What could go wrong? Well, nothing's worse than being summoned by one of your classmates, that's for sure. | “Kyle?!”
Kyle had not been invited to the Halloween sleepover. He hadn’t particularly minded. He was used to keeping his head down in class and getting homework done in his lunch break so he had more time for video games when he got home. The other kids at school weren’t exactly unkind, but Kyle wasn’t the sort of guy you invited to parties. Kyle told himself he didn’t mind. They probably wouldn’t be interested in his stuff, anyway, and it was better off this way.
It was a Friday night, and Kyle had been waiting all week to beat the final boss in his game, killer nightshade. The game was new, and with a price tag that made his eyes water, but it had arrived as a gift from his dad. His dad’s job was… unusual, for sure, and Kyle had often heard his parents fighting about it when they were still together.
“What do you mean you’re being summoned, Steve, this is our anniversary! You can’t keep doing this! GET THAT BRIMSTONE OUT OF MY KITCHEN!”
Still, it must have been pretty well paid because Kyle got frequent gifts from all over the world, wherever his dad had been at the time. It had been a lot more peaceful at home since his dad had moved out, but Kyle missed him. There were certain things that you just couldn’t ask your mum.
So when Kyle felt the familiar creeping cold of a summoning, he had no way to prevent it. His hands gripped his controller, fingers mashing at the buttons in a desperate attempt to remain seated in his chair, his bedroom, his house. It was no good.
Kyle made a mental note to send dad an email, asking him how to refuse a summoning. His mum would be no use at all.
The new room swirled into view: a dusty attic space, lit with clumsily placed candles and a few discarded bottles of Pepsi. Pale faces stared up at him where he stood, his feet placed firmly in the middle of a chalk pentagram. He recognised most of them from class, the popular kids that he tried his best to avoid.
“Kyle?!” One of them spoke. It was Alex – a kid from maths class.
Kyle glared at the book in Alex’s hands; a thick, leather-bound volume that was heavy with dust and years of disuse.
“Is that Kyle from school?” Another said. “I thought this was meant to get a demon?”
“It was! You heard it – all that Latin crap. Maybe we said it wrong?”
“You didn’t.” Said Kyle. “You’re fine. The summoning worked. It’s a family spell, though, so you really wanted my dad. He’s busy, so it defaults to me.” He shrugged.
“You’re a -?”
“Half. Dad’s a – yeah.” Kyle said, pushing his glasses up his nose. The dust in the attic was making his asthma flare up.
“Oh. Well that’s a bit crap, we wanted a real demon.” Alex sounded disappointed.
“Crap? You’re not the one who got pulled away from killer nightshade. I was THIS close to beating the HellFlower and you – “
Alex cut him off, eyes wide. “You have killer nightshade?”
Kyle nodded.
“How did you afford – wait, can I play? It has two player, right?” Alex asked.
The other kids around him jostled in.
“Can I watch?”
“I brought snacks!”
“Please Kyle?”
Kyle hesitated. Maybe it would be fun to have someone else to play with. After all, he’d pretty much completed the game by himself…
“Okay.” He grinned. “But you have to get rid of the book.” He nodded to the huge pages at Alex’s feet. Alex looked down, like he’d already forgotten it was there.
“Deal.” He said. | As I was laying down in bed pretending to be asleep, I felt a burning sensation from deep within my chest.
I knew what that meant, and I was ready.
I got up immediately so I wouldn’t be summoned while horizontal.
A ring of red sparks formed at my feet. The sparks got bigger and bigger and bigger until a tornado of sparks was all I could see.
The sparks dissipated, and I was somewhere else now, in some sort of basement probably.
“Oh great demon, the born of the flame, grant me my desire.” A voice said below me. The voice was strangely familiar.
I look down and see the source of the voice, my classmate John. He might be what most people would consider a friend I guess. He’s currently kneeling down below me with candles to his sides.
This can’t be good.
He looks up at me. He looks surprised.
“Spencer, is that you?” He asks.
I could possibly lead him to the wrong conclusion.
“No! I am not Spencer, I am merely taking the form of him, because, uh, because I can.” I say, trying not to be noticed.
“Oh yes, uh, okay.” He says with uncertainty.
“What is it you want human!” I say with my booming voice.
He looks scared. I can tell he’s deciding whether or not to go through with this.
“I-I uh, like this girl. She’s so funny, and pretty. I want you to make her fall in love with me.”
I was intrigued.
“Which girl?” I ask.
“Her name is Sara, she’s the hottest girl in school.” He says.
Sara? How? She’s a terrible person. She talks behind peoples backs, she manipulates everyone into liking her, and she has like three boyfriends that don’t even know about each other!
“No!!” I shout.
“What? Why not? Aren’t you supposed to grant me my wish?”
“You can’t do this! Let me tell you, she’s bad news. Definitely not worth trading your soul to.”
“But she’s so hot!”
“You humans and your drive to make more humans! Aren’t there enough of you on this dying rock?”
“But I really like her! If you won’t do this I’ll summon another demon!”
“No! Wait!”
“What?”
I didn’t know what to say. What could I say?
“Don’t summon another demon, they’ll take your soul away for garbage like her.”
“And why won’t you do that? Even if she is garbage?”
“I uh, uh-“
I look back down and see him dialing my phone number.
My phone rings from my pocket.
“You are Spencer, aren’t you?” He asks.
I sigh. “Yes.”
“I knew it! Demons don’t change their forms! I read it on that weird book thing the librarian gave me!”
“Okay okay, just, don’t tell anyone about this.”
“Fine dude, but this is so cool! You’re a demon!?”
“You’re not scared or anything?”
“Why would I be?”
“Because I’m literally like a demon from hell that you summoned with an occult book?”
“Yeah that’s cool, I have a friend from Australia, isn’t Hell pretty similar to that?”
We’ll he isn’t really wrong.
“Anyways, Sara, she isn’t cool?” He asks.
“Sara is literal trash. She’ll treat you like trash and find a way to make you smile while she does it.” I respond. “Also don’t summon demons, trading your soul is too much of a price to pay for anything.”
“Fine.” He says. | 2021-09-20T03:02:07 | 2021-09-20T00:38:47 | 317 | 155 |
[WP] After your death you are granted the chance to talk with God; he has no clue humans exist | The last thing I can remember is a car wreck. My car wreck. I guess this is heaven, or something like that? The room was white, and it was just me waiting. Weird if so many people die a day, shouldn't this room be full?
The big white double doors in front of me opened, letting a bright light in. A voice boomed, "Enter."
I didn't see why not, so I stood up and walked in. A large, glowing figure sat on a throne in front of me. He was huge. I didn't even come up to his knee while he sat. Seriously, I was in awe. This is God....had to be, right. Before I could say anything, his booming voice spoke:
"What are you? You're rather scrawny and small."
"But, I'm a human...."
"What's that?"
Huh? I wondered if there was a mix up and I went to the wrong place. Wrong god maybe? How many were there?
"Excuse me, but aren't you God?"
"Flattery won't get you to a higher position."
"What are you?"
"Oh, now we're going to be rude, I see. I'm here to help you navigate where to go after death, and this is how I'm repaid." His sigh shook the ground I stood on, then he muttered, "I told them adding new districts was a bad idea."
"I'm sorry, I have no clue what's happening."
He sighed again then said, "Look, you died. There'd billions of life forms in billions of galaxies, sometimes getting to their specific afterlife can be a struggle. So entities like me help sort it out. Never handled whatever you are though, what did you call yourself, hunam?"
"HuMAN." I corrected, then asked, "What about God?"
He laughed, "Well, he's busy in some other galaxy, but we talk. He personally asked me to do this. I'm like a god but not THE God. He never talks about humans. I'll have to ask about you."
He got up, then said, "Wait here. Let's sort this out. You'll be in your afterlife soon." | You'd think clouds to be an ideal choice of flooring, perfectly soft and with just the right tinge of moisture to assure your lips never chafe. In truth, however, it's quite annoying. There's an unevenness to it. Each step feels as though you're bound to fall through, which makes focus on any grand philosophic topic difficult to maintain. But I suppose I have larger concerns at present. Namely a large formless figure shaped like so much nothing that it ironically looks like a great number of familiar things. Or maybe it's just a trick of the mind. In either case, this malleable visage seemed quite startled by my presence. It's voice boomed without any particular inflection, "Uh, might I help you?" Taking a bit of time to compose myself the only response I could muster was, "I'd hoped you could do the same for me." "I beg your pardon," it mused. "What do you mean?" Taken aback, surely it knew what it was? I mean, isn't it the supposed source of creation? Perhaps it's best to ask. "Wait, you are God, right?" It's shape diminished in size as if the question had its confidence shrink. "What's a God?", it asked. "You," I quipped, perhaps too confidently. Well and truly befuddled by this short exchange I decided to fill the awkward silence with a clarifying question. "Do you know me, what I am?" It seemed a fine, uncomplicated inquiry. It's volume diminished further prior to its reply. "Some hairless ape? Might be that it got singed off? You do appear a bit reddish, flustered even." And at that moment it dawned on me, God hadn't a flipping clue what a human looked like. | 2017-02-05T09:41:00 | 2017-02-05T08:40:49 | 96 | 17 |
[WP] After killing your friends and family, the supernatural monster, seemingly unkillable, stands before you. But it speaks, "I'm glad you're alright. I saved you. You have no idea what they were planning to do to you, do you?" | "I'm glad you're alright. I saved you. You have no idea what they were planning to do to you, do you?"
I was frozen. Eyes wide in fright. Throat hoarse from screaming. Hands clenched so tight that my knuckles were white. Cold sweat dripped from every pore, each droplet an electrifying reminder on my nerves, telling me that I'm not dead.
Not dead. Alive. With the terrible, terrible monster still standing tall in front of me, a horrifying lucid nightmare of wildly disproportionate limbs and misshapen yellow teeth, now stained with crimson red.
"Mo--monster!" I screamed. "Monster!"
Again and again. Over and over. Through the veil of tears that streamed down and occluded my vision, the monstrosity stood still. Did it have a face? I couldn't tell. All I could do was cry in anguish as a distorted medley of the memories of my kin sped through my mind.
"I saved you," the monster said again, now muted. A far cry from the terrible titan that had shredded through my family in seconds.
"You saved me? Saved?"
I continued badgering it. To its credit, it did not made a move. Rather, it stood, or sat, there, still and speechless, as if waiting for my outburst to end.
It continued for an eternity, but it did end. The tears stopped dripping. The words stopped coming. And finally, I started grieving.
"You didn't know," the monster's scraping voice entered my ears again. "You didn't know who they were."
I hugged my knees and rocked back and forth. I was safe, for some reason. The horror in front of me has yet to threaten me. It was somewhat smaller now, hunched within itself.
"What?"
I asked. I was questioning a monster. It perked up.
"Are you OK?" it offered.
"Do you think anybody could?"
"No," it said. "But you were in immediate danger. I had to eliminate them."
"Danger? They were my family! They've given me everything! Everything I had and more!"
"That's exactly the thing. They didn't. They stole you. Stole you away from where you came from."
"What the hell are you talking about?" I screamed.
"Lo--look behind you."
I turned, perhaps against my better judgement. But there was darkness behind me.
Not just... darkness. The shadows themselves. I walked towards them, mesmerized. The stygian energy flowed off them in sheets, launching themselves against me like waves. As my hand crept towards them, I felt it pull away, like an opposing magnet pole. But soon enough, it came back, the umbra flowing around my fingers and hands, an old friend getting used to my being.
I turned back. There it was again. But I now realized what it was doing. It wasn't holding off. It was... afraid. Submitting.
"You came from the shadows. Your true family will have never awoken had you stayed with the humans."
"I... came from the shadows?"
I turned back. My palm closed on the shadow, and I felt it enter me. A surge of blackness went through my entire body, like the most delicious shot of adrenaline, filling me to the brim with an utter sense of assuredness.
"I came from the shadows," I affirmed.
I threw my arms up suddenly, a maestro conducing the final symphony of his orchestra. The tsunami of pall swelled swiftly, and crashed over all of me and my surroundings. I looked around again, and there was no more traces of my old life. Just me and the monster left.
I came from the shadows. And they are mine to wield.
---
r/dexdrafts | An abject mass of lines hovered before me, tumultuous and tumbling and turning over one another. It was like a three dimensional version of chaotic pen scrawls across a sheet of paper. An ink ball slowly trying to swallow itself, just as it had swallowed everyone else at my birthday party.
Only I remained, scared shitless and backed into a corner, waiting for my appointment with oblivion.
"You're safe now." The creature spoke with a low rasping sound, a whisper that could barely be heard over the constant rustling and jostling of lines. "You don't have to hide in the corner," it said, single lines and tendrils freeing themselves to grotesquely extend in my direction, connecting to the walls on either side of me. "Hiding won't help you."
My hands went up reflexively. "Okay," I said, casting about the room for anything that could help me. There was barely any sign of the screams that had marked the previous few minutes, pretty much no indication that thirty odd people had just been obliterated by a swirling ball of lines.
The lines to either side of me recoiled inwards and dissappeared inside the swirling mass, becoming indistinct. "Thanks," I said, not feeling grateful at all. "What do you mean I'm safe?"
Lines popped outwards, caved inwards, swirled round and round. "You are a uni-dimensional being, which makes this hard to explain," it said, with what seemed to be a vague gesture at the empty remnants of my birthday party, almost like it was apologizing.
"Matter always reverts to an ordered form, and the order of matter in this universe does not match the order of matter in others," the creature said, lines flattening and expanding and contracting. "This is all important to a degree that is incomprehensible to you," it said. "Much as my current form is relatable only within the context of your reality...anyway, nevermind. What matters is that you're safe, and through your safety I ensure the correct ordering of matter in this realm... satisfactorily directing how it will all play out over the next few million Earth years."
"What?" is all I could ask, standing in the corner, my knees shaking with the realization that everyone I knew and loved in this world was gone, nevermind all the existential shit.
The creature let out a rustled side, the lines growing fuzzy. "It is ... it is impossible to explain to you given the current anchoring of your sensory experience. And given your limited understanding of existence and the connectivity of all things and the underlying purpose to *being*."
"Help me understand. There is nothing left for me here."
The swirl of lines turned over and over, small pockets pulsing with more frequency than the whole.
"Very well. Will you relinquish your human form?"
"Yes."
"Come with me."
Falling upwards. I was and is and will be. We are but fireflies floating in eternity.
\-----
Parameters come rushing in.
"Jake, you okay buddy?"
Bewilderment. Shape and color providing form and context.
"You were out for five minutes or so. Welcome back. DMT is one hell of a drug." | 2020-08-11T07:54:56 | 2020-08-11T07:43:30 | 43 | 12 |
[WP] It is the 24 th of july, your birthday, and also the day that humanity is going to reach 10 billion inhabitants. You are watching the number grow, live on a site. Just as it's about to hit 10 billion, at 9,999,999,999... It Hits 2. You are still alive. | I watched the website wondering if the time of my birth would be the exact time the world would hit the 10 billion mark. I mean, what else was I going to do no one remembered again. I casually sipped a beer with the news playing in the background, live coverage of the counter at the headquarters of the United World Nations, there excitement meant that we could send another billion people off world to colonize another set of new star system, no one mentioning that we hadn't heard from the first billion we sent when we initially hit the 9 billion mark ofr 5 years now. Not that we should be concerned they say, after the first year the excitement sort of died off and they didnt see a point to keep prodding the computers just to get the responses -cryos functioning at 100%, ship functioning within acceptable parameters- I glanced at the TV as it cut to commercials, I muted it and went back to watching the website.
Human Population: 9,999,999,995
9,999,999,996
9,999,999,997
The news came back on the TV behind me, but it was still muted, I didn't hear or see the black cloud that had appeared over the UWN HQ, the green beams of light spewing from it and raining down on the people below.
9,999,999,998
9,999,999,999
There was a boom outside and I felt my basement apartment rumble, I could hear car alarms going off. I glanced around and stood up as the TV went dark and went to static. I looked back at the website,
Human Population: 2
It stood at 2 for five minutes, I stared at the page and listened at the silence that now filled the air as the alarms I could barley hear stopped. I refreshed the page thinging it had to have been a glitch.
It still read,
Human Population: 2.
But now, beneath it it said Unknowns: 0
Unknowns: 10
Unknowns: 500
The number started to rise and was rising quickly. I ran to my door and checked the bolt to make sure it was still locked, as I heard a sound like a horn from outside. I walked to my window and looking out the sky was filled with a black cloud that was slowly dissipating, a large fleet of vessel were above the city as far as I could see. I let my curtain fall closed as I stumbled backwards, panic filling me as I looked at the computer again,
Human Population: 2
Unknowns: 3,333,333,333
The counter for the unknowns had stopped but the human population number hadn't changed at all. A cold fog started to seep under my door, it smelled something vaguely of sulfur, I passed out wondering as I fell to the floor who else but me was out there.
The website counter changed as I lay unconscious.
Human Population: 1
Unknowns: 3,333,333,333
...
...
...
Human Population: 0
Unknowns: 3,333,333,333 | No, that can't be. The chilling disbelief had me shivering in fear. The counter read 2. The goddamn counter read 2. What the hell? This can't be.
The entire population of Earth is now 2 and I'm alive. So does that mean everyone but someone else is gone? Why me? Is it because I was browsing it now? Does that mean whoever is also alive was browsing the site? Does that "tie us" now? Oh man does that mean we have to repopulate I'M ON A GODDAMN PANIC NOW OH MAN WHAT IF THE OTHER PERSON IS A MAN THEN WE'RE DOOMED OH MAN I'M GONNA PUKE WHAT THE HELL EVERYONE'S GONE AAAAAHHHH---
Ok man. Calm down. CALM DOWN. Breathe. Breathe. Let's see what we can do. I gotta stay sane. Priorities! Right now you gotta find the Other. Maybe if the Other is a dude, we can hijack the biotech institute and try to incubate some OK OK OK DON'T GET AHEAD OF YOURSELF. I GOTTA SURVIVE AND FIND THE SURVIVOR. THAT'S THE ONLY PRIORITY FOR NOW. Two heads are better than one.
Now to step into the empty unknown. Let's leave this goddamn room. I take a step into the living room.
No. Oh no. NOOOOOO!!! MY ROOMMATE IS THE OTHER. The unbearable bespectacled Linux-head neckbeard who wears meme t-shirts and keeps anime pillows in his grimy room. HE IS THE OTHER. WE ARE DOOMED.
And he's laughing at his laptop. Yeah he's the kind of scum to find humor in this. You know what? Fuck mankind. The world doesn't deserve this. I'm killing him and then offing myself. It'll be easier.
I solemnly walk to the kitchen and grab a knife while he laughs. Then he stops as I walk up to him. As I'm going to raise the knife, he starts talking.
"DUUUUUUUUDE I LE TOTALLY HA><><0R3D LE POPULATION PAGE LOLOLOLOL, THESE NOOBS GOT TOTALLY LE PWNED BECAUSE THEY USED LE WINDOWS, NOW LE REDDIT WILL BE FULL OF GRIMDARK WRITING PROMPTS, TOP KEK"
The knife falls. I look behind. The window is open. Kids play outside. I stand in front. I feel something oddly familiar. Fresh air, I guess? I missed it.
Fucking nerd goes outside more than myself. | 2017-02-28T20:52:59 | 2017-02-28T19:56:08 | 54 | 40 |
[WP] You're on a fourth date late one night at a restaurant - it's been going really well. After they get up to go to the toilet their phone starts to buzz incessantly. You can't help but crane your neck to see what the ruckus is about: "You need to get back now, the portal is closing, this is it". | Liz flinched and hid her screen. "You saw?"
"Yeah. I saw, all right." Josh slumped back in his seat and looked at her wistfully. Red-hair, a smattering of freckles across her nose, just a little shorter than him. She was just his type, and she even laughed at all his stupid jokes. "You don't have to try so hard to come up with an excuse."
She opened her mouth, then closed it. "Pardon?"
"Come on, I'm not stupid. A *portal*?" He laughed bitterly. "Gotta say, that has to be the most creative way to get out of a date I've seen."
She shook her head. "What are you even talking about?"
"What was it, then? I thought we clicked so well." He tapped his chin in thought. "Gotta be my jokes. It's my jokes, right?"
"Josh. Josh, look at me." She leaned forward and stared him in the eye. "Whatever you think this is, it's not that. I like you, *a lot*, but I have to go now."
"Of course you do," he said glumly. "Don't worry, I'll pick up the check."
She stared at him, her lips moving soundlessly as emotions warred on her face. Then, gripping his collar, she tugged him close and kissed him fiercely.
"Come with me," she breathed.
He gaped like a fish out of water. "Wha—how—"
"Come!" Reaching for her wallet, she slapped way too much money onto the table and pulled him across the restaurant. Her hair was wild and her face even wilder, and she had never been more beautiful.
"Where are you taking me?" he demanded. "Liz, let it go. You don't have to invent some ridiculous—"
"Shut up and follow," she hissed. Bursting out the front door, she glanced down her phone and turned decisively left.
Josh sighed and followed along; might as well humor her and see what was going on. They weaved through the passersby, her dragging him along, until she pulled him into a dim back alley. He halted, but she tugged him onward, consulting something like a map on her phone. Deeper into the shadows they went, then turned a corner, and then she let go of him at last.
He opened his mouth, then swore under his breath. Just ahead, the very space was warped, shimmering as it distorted the back alley behind it like a giant rotating lens.
"There," Liz said breathlessly. "Portal. *Now* do you believe me?"
He gaped at the portal, then at Liz. The frenetic energy seemed to have drained from her, and she stood fidgeting with her fingers and eyeing him uncertainly.
"Are..." He shook his head. "Are you a time traveler, then? Or an alien, or something like that?"
"Something like that." She worried her lip. "There's not much time. You coming with or not?" She extended her hand.
He considered her in silence. She hadn't even told him *what* she was, he couldn't help noticing. Then again... she found his jokes funny. "Oh, what the hell."
***
"So, anyway," he said, casting his glance over his three children. "That's how I met your mother." | *Portal? What portal? Am I on a date with a scientist of some sort?*
As my date arrived from the restroom and glanced at her phone before sitting down, her face went white as if she'd seen a ghost, an eerie expression followed. She grabbed her wallet,paid for the meal, and took my hand. The next thing I know we're both in this ... lab.
*I feel sick.. this is too unre-*
I was cut off from my thoughts as a loud horn blasted aloud.
"__ALL PERSONNEL €€¥×¢€¥^__"
They spoke in some foreign tongue I saw on the internet, about an undercover language nobody was to know about. I froze, as my hand was still clenching my dates soft and elegant hand. Two people then approached.
"Dr.Zalichabi, the portal is unstable, we've gotten a few through though. You should get going, we can leave your significant other he-"
"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do. I will take whatever and €¥¥¶¶` €¥¥∆¶`|€...." Zaki began to speak in that foreign tongue.
Zaki, or Dr. Zalichabi, is my date, or perhaps I'd say girlfriend as I think of her as one. She never told me her real name, but insisted I call her Zaki. She was a lovely person, beautiful black hair and brown eyes. When I first saw her, I knew we were meant to be.
"Follow me through the portal, darling." Zaki said soothingly, her smile could light millions of suns. I felt as if I was in a trap. Soul bounded to her, I couldn't move. Only think to myself as I followed her through it.
__...__
I should've stayed at home. The rest of my life would be hell. They tricked me into falling for her, they tricked me into becoming a subject of their slavery and tests for the rest of my life. When I get out, I'll come for everyone of their necks. Even the beautiful girl I thought were to be my wife.
Even through these depressing times, I've met people who've also fallen for other scumbags who needed more experiments. I heard their stories and felt so very sorry for them. Who wouldn't? My cell mate Matt, poor thing, he was barely an Adult when he got put into this hell hole. Fell for his girlfriends trap as well. We all fell for our significant other and was played a fool by them. After our capturing, it seemed as if we rarely seen them again. Thinking they couldn't face their betrayal, hatred.. the hatred we had in our eyes before we were put to sleep. It must have scared them to face their problems, to face their karma.
*Matt can you hear me?* I thought, not to myself though, to others as well, a magis we've collected from the testing.
*Yeah, I can-*
__LOUD HORNS__
Something unusual is bound to happen. | 2022-10-26T08:25:20 | 2022-10-26T06:23:25 | 316 | 91 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | The whole neighbourhood was out in the streets staring skyward; dressed in robes and wrapped in blankets. The bright white light made them appear as stone sentinels against the snow.
“Mummy, the moon is so big!”
My phone buzzed urgently in my hand. I set it on the nightstand facedown
“Grab your jacket lily,” I wrapped my housecoat tight against me and zipped Lily into her parka.
The light was brilliant; almost fluorescent. It radiated off the snow like an aura.
Lilly stood breathless on the driveway, her face wide with wonder. I wished i could always see her like this; so wonderful.
“It’s a beautiful night,” my neighbour commented with her children cradled to her breast.
I nodded and looked skyward at the fantastic beacon against the night. It was moving, falling from the sky.
“ Mom, why are you crying?”
I wiped my eyes and held Lily’s shoulders tightly.
“It’s just so beautiful baby. I love you”.
All was calm as the bomb cracked on the horizon and spilled over; swallowing everything.
| I wake to the sound of my phone vibrating so fast I'm afraid it'll fall of my nightstand. I groggily my phone before it falls and turn it on to see the words "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON" in bright letters illuminated by the official nationwide alert backdrop. The vibrations refuse to stop. Hundreds of texts are rolling in from numbers I don't know so fast that I can barely make out what they're saying. I set my phone to silent and put it back on the nightstand. "Looks like a problem that can wait till the morning," I faintly think to myself before falling back to sleep. Nothing gets me out of bed at 3 a.m. | 2022-11-14T21:59:08 | 2018-04-06T19:08:10 | 45 | 11 |
[WP] You have been kidnapped and your wealthy significant other was told to pay the hefty ransom. Instead, they sent a message back to your kidnappers. “Nice knowing you.” While the kidnappers discuss their next move, you look up through the tiny window, stare at the full moon overhead … and smile. | He always worked hard to keep the beast within.
'Why when I try to to be a gentleman, there's always someone chasing the beast?' he wondered as he looked at the full moon.
Although it didn't force the transformation, it made it easier. Well, it was never easy as his bones broke and reshaped, the fur itching under his skin before sliding out while his mouth filled with blood and his jaw cracked in agony as his fangs burst forth, but it was quicker.
He remembered his family as he stood, how they would run through the forests of his homeland hunting their prey, not caring about the world until the world came to destroy their home.
Looking down at his hands he relaxed his hold on the beast a little, enough for his claws to start to rip through his finger beds...pain was never far for a lycanthrope.
The men around him didn't see his hands, they froze as the rays of the moon glistened off the saliva and blood dripping from his mouth and stared as his eyes changed from blue to green, reflecting the light back like search lights hunting for prey.
Jumping forward he clawed at the closest man, tearing his throat before he could move.
Reeling back the others tried desperately to flick the safeties off their guns, but they never stood a chance. With 10 seconds all but one was dead or dying.
As he walked towards the last man his suit tore as his back broke and he dropped to all fours... His transformation almost complete.
'what.... What are you?' the man screamed as Salias stalked his final prey.
'just a wolf... In mens clothing' he said before lunging forward to feast on flesh | "Nice knowing you? Ha, he doesn't even care!"
So they believed. And so they planned for what to do with me. All the while, I sat back in my chair, waiting for the show to start.
"What should we do with her? Toss her into the river? Give her a heart attack? What's the play?"
It's funny they think they're getting out of here alive. It's funny they think that I'm just going to die for their amusement.
It became even funnier when the moon began to show on the ceiling window. And they didn't suspect a thing.
"Hey guys, so what's the idea here? What's the game plan? Just going to kill me? Come on, you gotta be more resourceful than that!" I yelled at them. Just buying some time.
And all the while, they didn't notice the moon was getting brighter and brighter. Until it was too late.
"As he said, nice knowing you."
The protection shield turned on as the whole place around me was struck with the laser cannon, annihilating them both instantly.
It's rather convenient having a laser cannon on the moon at your disposal. | 2021-03-19T01:52:30 | 2021-03-19T01:45:05 | 160 | 101 |
[WP] "Marines dont die, they just go to hell and regroup", they've regrouped and now they're ready to take over hell. | General Nightengale marched to a bed of jagged rocks to join the three men awkwardly propped on top of them. He rubbed the charred skin around a gaping hole that had devoured the better part of his shoulder. Blood turned to tar as it dribbled from numerous three pronged wounds. He resisted wincing as he placed his badly burned ass on an available slab of hellground.
The commanding marine waved off salutes of his abruptly standing subordinates. “Probably be another twenty minutes before they round up here again. What you got planned, major?” he drawled as if he had an eternity to spare.
Formality urged Major Herkin to strategize on his feet but sense bade him sit to maintain strength. Sense won out. “We’ll begin Operation Order to Chaos with a company each at sectors 104 and 202 on the next set of grand fly-bys. The heaviest equipped imps and demons scour those areas pretty frequently so any chance we have of pulling this off starts with us gearing up before reinforcements arrive. We’ll also earn the added advantage of first taking out a bulk of the most sadistic fucks Hell has to offer.”
Herkin’s audience of three focused on the middle-aged officer as he relayed plans for how the marines would soon teach Lucifer how to lead a proper rebellion. Though General Nightengale and Colonels Gearst and Weyward all outranked Herkin, they were humble enough to realize an early demise made him no less the best tactician of the bunch.
“Sectors 104 and 202 both provide high vantage points to prepare for the retaliatory attacks that will follow. Although not the most central points for soldiers to reinforce our positions, they are the most visible. Since these hellspawns can all fly, we’ll need any advantage we can get in that department.”
Agonizing screams from sector 312 interrupted the battle plan. Usually the pedophiles hung out around there, not that Hell’s enforcers paid any mind. They delivered the same perverse justice to all of the underworld’s inhabitants. As far as Herkin could tell, Lucifer had granted his hellions carte blanche to live out the same twisted fantasies that had doomed a number of humans to an eternity of torture in the afterlife.
The major didn’t mind that five kills guaranteed you an express pass to Hell, but he couldn’t take the indiscriminate persecution anymore. Killing to protect one’s country and groping innocent children didn’t fall into the same bucket. Not a chance. No fucking way.
Herkin fueled his fire with those thoughts. Veins popping out to contain Herkin's resentful voice spurted blood from a neck wound. “We’ve got two dozen platoons prepped with orders and filled with the best the marines, army, navy, and air force have to offer. As needed, they will reinforce the companies at sectors 104 and 202 to maintain a full company.”
General Nightengale interrupted, “Sectors 104 and 202 are huge and with better cover than anywhere else in this shithole. Why keep our entire army at bay?”
Herkin explained, “Yes sir, that’s true. Sectors 104 and 202 are our best chance for a fight, but the residual reinforcement strategy is a precaution. We don’t know if they have some kind of super weapon to put us all down. If they do, it’s gonna be a lot harder to hit twenty-five sectors than two. And if we go down, we’ll never get another chance. They’ll separate our incapacitated asses to the ends of hell’s rocky cliffs.”
Nightengale stroked his stubble, the facial hair forever fixed as the day he died, then waved his hand for Herkin to continue.
“Nightengale and I will start the climb to 104 as soon as we disperse here. Gearst and Weyward will head to 202. We’ll command the troops from there. The little devils will know something’s up as soon as they see two full companies so we’ll need to wait for enough of them to land before we start fighting. We cannot win this war without weapons. That means we might lose a few troops before we even get started so we absolutely must reiterate not to fight until the commands are given. Otherwise the whole horde of them are just gonna bring back their friends and maybe even daddy.”
Gearst piped in, “We’d be fucked.”
“Very fucked,” agreed Herkin.
Herkin hoped Gearst and Weyward had followed his orders precisely. Most of the platoons were led by men and women matching Herkin's rank so he had to rely on the colonels to enforce his plans. Even in Hell, almost everyone followed the chain of command to their bitter demise. If the platoons acted prematurely or negligently or couldn’t read the battlefield, this would all go to shit. Herkin breathed in Hell's smokey air and exhaled.
“That’s all I got. I think it’s time we roll out,” closed Herkin as eyed the rocky masses of sector 104.
Nightengale nodded then charged, “Dismissed then. Good luck and God bless.” The officers stood at attention, saluted, then went off in their assigned pairings.
Herkin felt amused for the first time in weeks or months or years or however long it had been and forced down a chuckle. Guess you can take the marine out from God, but you couldn’t take God out from the marine.
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6zv41f/wp_marines_dont_die_they_just_go_to_hell_and/dmzdunx/)
[Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6zv41f/wp_marines_dont_die_they_just_go_to_hell_and/dmzgviu/)
*.....*
*Like this? Subscribe to the newly minted /r/WiselyWrittenWords for more.*
| Burned flesh and fiery landscapes were nothing new to the 45th Marine Division of New England. If anything, they were sights for sore eyes; old flairs, reignited in gunfire and blood.
Clenching a cigarette between his teeth, 2nd Commander Armistice gripped his pulse rifle in two armoured hands, taking a moment to absorb the charred, warped landscape around him.
"Well boys, looks like we're all here. Been a while." He took a long drag from the cigarette before plucking it from his mouth. "Try to look alive."
Behind him, his regiment -- or rather, the battle-worn remnants of it -- stood, defiant and indomitable, hands clutching their weapons like they were there own children, teeth grit in steely determination and armour scratched and battered beyond recognition.
Like all Marines of the 45th, they'd come into the world fighting, and they never stopped. Born into training, and refined into killers by wars upon wars.
In front of Armistice lay the enemy; a stark reflection of his unit. Demons: born killers, and had done nothing but killing since.
Between these abhorrent denizens of Hell and the grizzled veterans of the 45th, there were no words to be exchanged.
The Marines were the ones to fire the first shot. A green pulse burst from a rifle, incinerating a demon into naught but a pile of fine grey dust.
The demons took no time to mourn -- they screamed, they bared their scorching swords, and they charged. A red swarm of scales and horns and hellfire.
"*Fire!*" Armistice's mechanically enhanced voice barely sounded over the oncoming horde.
His unit rose their arms, and squeezed their triggers. Bullets whizzed, and pulse emissions soared across the red, weeping sky. The initial line of the demonic horde was mowed down in a firework display of blood and viscera. The next lines climbed over the corpses of their dead, beginning their ascent up the hill the 45th was stationed.
More shots rang out, and more demons hit the floor, coating the land in blood. The sound of clips emptying and pulse rifles overheating preceded Armistice's next command, which he bellowed with battle-induced fervour.
"*Drop your weapons. Brace for melee!*"
The unit instantly shifted, going from a slapdash spread to a rigid line. They tossed their guns down into the demons as they approached, the heavy metal of the weapons scoring a few cracked bones in the process. They drew their beam-swords, and stood their ground like rocks awaiting the flood.
Armistice's own weapon was clenched firmly in his hands, red light emanating from the blade. He stared a demon right in its face as it scaled the mountain, its bulbous yellow eyes meeting his mellow grey. Its body lolled forward like a snapped neck before it charged, hands outstretched.
It didn't make it more than a single step before Armistice severed its head from its body in a single strike. He followed through into a reversed slash, parting another demon from its legs.
"*Charge!*" He yelled as black blood splattered in excess around him. He could barely hear his unit advancing -- their screams and cheers -- over his own thoughts resonating in his head, coaxing his brain into the distinct rhythm of fighting.
The flow of battle, the pace of the war-drums.
*Step. Parry. Slash. Twist.* Another demon hit the ground, followed by one more that didn't even know what'd killed it. His unit pushed forward, backing the demons off the cliffside, sending them plummeting to the grounds below.
But more kept coming -- an endless amount, multiplying by the minute. They came from the ground, the sky, the corpses of their fallen.
They were an endless legion.
Marines began to fall. Draxis let out a strangled cry as a sword shattered his femur, and another pierced his heart. Colter was torn into bloody pieces, savaged by a group of hands burrowing from the ground.
Giving away ground, a sword slashed across Armistice's back, sending him down onto one knee. He narrowly ducked under a fatal blow before responding with a metal fist in the face of his attacker. The demon went reeling, and Armistice spun on his feet, lunging into another. He toppled with the pierced demon into a heap, the crimson creature writhing and screeching as it tried to wrangle itself free from the sword in its belly.
Armistice drove the sword deeper, skewering the demon as it let out a dying gasp. His eyes swept the area around him, falling upon the bodies of his unit, and the men about to join them, fighting until their bitter and bloody ends.
Armistice slumped forward, gripping his sword and tearing it free from the demon. He shakily rose to his feet, the weight of his battle-armour suddenly multiplying from the burden of his injury.
Yet, in spite of himself, a devilish grin spread upon his lips.
He supposed he and the demons weren't so different after all.
As he moved into his inevitable death, sword severing flesh and fists shattering bones, a single thought lingered on Armistice's mind; one he'd bring to the grave with him, no doubt.
There was no greater joy than to fight.
| 2017-09-13T11:37:11 | 2017-09-13T11:31:49 | 48 | 22 |
[WP] Jesus has come down from the heavens, but is actually just a chill guy. He is sitting and talking to fans in your city but when you walk to see the savior his relaxed expression fades and is replaced with smugness and at the same time anger. He looks at you and calmly goes, “Ah, the Antichrist” | “Surprised to see me, uncle?”
The heir to the silver city shook his head at me,
“No, I believe it’s always opportune to converse with family, regardless of stance.”
I scoffed,
“Please, we’re apart of a large war that will only end in the destruction of this world.”
Jesus nodded his head, his locks swishing in the slight breeze,
“How’s your father, nephew?”
“You’d like to know.” I seethed. Then, I addressed the crowd that had encircled the two of us. The same people I would of called friends, the same people I had gone to school with. The people I had attended church with, “how can you all stand before him, guided by a falsity. Understand that he wasn’t *sacrificed*, we murdered him. The only reason he has come back is to exact revenge on us for wronging him. Why wouldn’t he? We have warped our ideas on Him to the point it is the premise of warfare and discrimination. You’re so called ‘salvation’ cannot be reached, because it is undeserved-!”
“Don’t listen to him, this man is of the deceiver.”
“I am of the ‘King of this reality’. You said so yourself in that little book of yours. Lucifer, Satan, *your brother* and the *rightful heir to the throne of Jehovah* was the king of this reality-!”
“Until my return!” The saviour cut me off with a hateful glare,
“And you’re supposed to be the forgiving type. See what happens when you disagree with Jesus, people? He only cares about his own opinion, he won’t take yours into consideration if it doesn’t match his beliefs. In fact, I thought Jesus was supposed to be understanding. Not spiteful and hating. Not smug, but humble. You’re not Jesus. I am. You don’t care for these people, I do. Unless your going to come back here with your army of angels like the book of revelations promised, you can leave. Do not return, else you will be smote.”
With that, I backed away from him and left the slightly dispersed crowd in the courtyard as I made my way back to the church.
*Ironic,* I thought to myself as I looked up at the cross on the uppermost spire, *He hates those.* | Oh fuck me. "Really? Here? Now?" I say. Jesus sneers at me. "I think so Antichrist." He looks to the gathered people. "Everyone!" he says, his voice amplifying so everyone can hear it. "This man here." He points at me, "Is the Antichrist, here to damn you all to Hell." The people turn to look at me. I sigh, "Look the Antichrist thing isn't what you think." I say raising my hands in surrender. A fat, sweaty suck up yells at the crowd, "BURN THE ANTICHRIST!!" The crowd takes this order to heart and quickly surround me. I look at Jesus and flip him off. Jesus becomes more angry at my flippant disregard to my personal health. "Yes true believers burn him on the stake." As they tie me up I continue to stare at him. "So much for all loving." He smirks, "I believe you know I love you..." "Gay." I say interrupting him. He snarls a little, "As I was saying I would love you to burn and be sent back to hell." I roll my eyes as I'm covered in gas. "Hell has open borders." I say blandly. He scoffs, "Then we'll send you back again." The fat man walks up with a match. "My lord shall I?" he asks. Jesus looks at me and looks at the man. He looks at me again, a little uncertain. "Oh get on with it I'm not saying sorry to you bitch." I say. Jesus snatches the match and tosses onto the fire. I wake up in hell. "Asshole it's not my fault you suck at cards." I say to myself as I stretch and get out of my bed. "Welp time to go back to earth." I vanish in a puff of smoke. | 2020-02-02T15:57:36 | 2020-02-02T15:07:16 | 76 | 25 |
[WP] "They mass-slaughter this organism called "flowers" and give the bound mass of corpses to their desired mate as a courting ritual, possibly as proof of ability. Truly fascinating."
Replace with other weird behaviors as desired
Edit: Mod's Choice and #1 in Hot in 5 hours? woohoo! | "I understand some things of your culture but some things I do not," The alien said.
"Well. what things do you not understand? Because you clearly understand the english language."
"Not really, the host body does, I merely use the data... Why do humans give their mate dying flora samples? It's some sort of mating ritual, isn't it?"
It took me a while to register what the alien asked. While his assumption wasn't really wrong, the phrasing made me actually wonder the same thing. Why DO we give dead flowers?
"Well," I tried to find a way to explain it simply, "I think you are viewing it from the wrong perspective. You are right in one way, but you are so incredibly right, that you are wrong in an other..."
The humanoid facial expression of the aliens host scrunched up a little. They did not understand. Of course they didn't.
"To humans we don't often think wether plants are alive or not. Some people don't even think about other fauna being alive or sentient. In some of the most extreme and horrifying cases some people don't even consider another human beings sentience. We like to think of ourselves as pretty smart, but honestly flowers are just pretty objects to the majority of us. We don't think any further. When you offer a pretty object to your potential mate, or simply anyone you like, you improve the chances of them liking you back."
"Fascinating..." mumbled the alien. They turned their head a little sideways, like a curious puppy. "What other pretty objects can you give?"
"It can be anything. Expensive jewelry made of precious metals and stones, a cheap game, a new watch- you know, a digital clock- or an old story in book form. It can be anything that you think the person would like."
"Then, I would like to offer you something..." the alien reached into the pockets of their host bodies' clothes. "Maybe you would like it."
They gave me an object. It was small, long and thin, and slighty warm to touch. the rod seemed to be made of a foreign type of metal.
"What is it?" I asked.
"A sample of flora from my home star." | "Hey, you! What are you doing!?"
Io looked up.
"Yeah, you in the ditch!"
A human, approaching. Hmm, this one seems to be interacting. It's abnormal reddish hue indicates increased heartrate.
--== Reporing contact. Aggrivated human, fullgrown male. Advice control? ==---
==-- Ignore and proceed. --==
Io looked down again. Put his hands back into the hole.
"Jesus christ!" The male was screaming at the top of his breathing organs now as he was just a few flerudabs away. "What the FUCK are you doing?!"
--== Unsuccessfull. Male seeking conflict. Advice control? ==--
==-- Stand by. --==
Io was not angry or afraid. Those were emotions of the race known as humans. He had curiousity though, thats why he put his hands in the hole. Io knew that control would help him with the human who was now pointing at him with a ranged weapon.
"Get your fucking hands out of there NOW!"
------------------------------------
"Okey, I'll tell you but I warned you. It's weird."
"Hurry up. We have a scout in confrontation."
"Give the human 12 dead flowers, pedanticly connected with preferably a string of mesh."
"..."
"I promise, I read about it. Who's the humanoid expert here?"
"Yeah, whatever. If you're not gonna be serious about this,..."
------------------------------------
==-- This is control advice. Flowers and string of mesh available...? --==
==-- Report scout. --==
==-- Report. --==
The gunshots Io sustained killed him instantly. As his body fell his hands was still stuck inside the dead horses anal cavity. Funny to some humans. They are weird.
| 2016-11-23T13:06:53 | 2016-11-23T09:59:14 | 46 | 16 |
[WP] You're on a space ship with a bunch of your crewmates. You're the only human, and apparently metaphors are a strictly human behavior. You've learned to cope with this, but today you've decided to speak in only figures of speech as a prank on the others. | "While you're down there anyway, check the exhaust valve. You know--kill two birds with one stone."
Zigitar's green complexion went pale, to a nice shade of mint. "You want me to... *kill*... two birds, Captain?"
I watched her face squirm with the moral battle that was raging inside.
"No, no. I'm sorry, Captain. I can't do it. No, I *won't* do it." She frowned. "Besides, there aren't even any birds out here. We're in the middle of Sector 84."
"Fine. I'll do it myself," I said. Her eyes widened, and I could feel her staring me down as I walked down the hallway.
"But--Captain--where will you find the two birds?" she called after me, helplessly.
"Hey, Bluffs," I said to the alien sitting cross-legged on the floor. He'd removed a metal panel and was dealing with a few loose wires, soldering gun in tentacle. "How's it hanging, man?"
"The blue wire is a 35-degree-angle from the vertical, sir. And the red one is about 25." He paused. "But... what relevance does that have, may I ask, sir?"
"Oh, I was just wondering."
I made my way back to the control room. The expanse of space stretched out before the thick glass, stars winking back at us. My fingers tapped across the touchscreen. *Booting up... 12%... 28%... We're sorry, we've encountered an error. Rebooting now...*
"Damn. It's crashing."
Talilal spun around to face me. "What? We're crashing?"
"No, the navigation system."
"The navigation system is causing us to crash?"
"It just needs to boot up."
A blur of brown whizzed past me. *Clunk*\--a boot fell at my feet. Talilal sat across from me, one foot bare. Eyes wide, breathing hard.
"No, no, I'm sorry--I didn't mean that--it just needs to--"
"Use the boot!"
"No--"
"*Use the boot!"* She spun back around and held down the intercom button. "All crew members, report to navigation. Prepare for crash landing." She paused. "And be prepared to take off your boots."
*Oh dear*, I thought, as the red warning lights flashed at a dizzying speed.
*I might've taken this a little too far.* |
“Well aint that a kick in the pants” I sigh as the futuristic food machine forgot to add a bowl with my oatmeal or even a spoon. The being behind hissed with its many tongues , I’ms sssorry humansss butss I didss notss touches yours leg coveringsss.
“Its ok not your circus not your monkey, Right?” I reply in a semi cherry voice. The reptile thing behind quirks its head in angle in a questioningly way as I saunter to my usually spot without my oatmeal, i still feel like im forgetting something... “Good day human Greg, why are you not breaking your fast this morning?” a huge muscled humanoid sits down in front of me "crashing my train of thought. he is carrying a gong sized plate, full of I don’t know what, but it was still moving whatever it is. “no time for seconds today big guy early bird gets the worm”
“gets the worm” he waggles his ears in a sign of confusion if you want worms try my sLeNta’K” as he pushes his plate towards me.
“cant today Clarnax I hear the water line is cracked on level 113-D and its raining cats and Dogs near the shuttle bay and you know how those pilots get when anything is out of place, they get more pissed of then at bull at a rodeo”. As I leave, I see Clarnax’s ears waving like his head is trying to fly off.
“ don’t lose your head over it ill have it fixed in no time” before leaving the mess I see Clarnax holding his head like his life depended on it.
“be careful of the water quadrupeds and the and the mad bull” I hear his booming voice as the door slides behind me.
Personally I don’t know if it was a good idea to have all the planets that are in the united federation to have a representative on the newest star ship. I feel like most of what I say is going over their heads. | 2020-06-16T10:51:51 | 2020-06-16T10:34:01 | 54 | 23 |
[WP] In the near future, you are making dinner because you are about to meet your girlfriend's dad for the first time. All you have in the kitchen is cooked frozen steaks. In walks your girlfriend and her dad, Gordon Ramsey. | "Hello Mr. Ramsey" I said, calmly twisting the top off my second bottle of diet coke. It was chilled, but not overly cold, and the moisture of the bottle was refreshing to the touch on such a mild fall evening.
"Hello maffy, it's good to meet you" he said, extending a slightly calloused, yet well moisturised hand.
I shook it, and tilted my head.
"What's your first name again Mr. Ramsey, Ella never mentioned it?"
"Gordon" he replied, smiling warmly.
"Ah" I said, nodding politely, "just like Gordon Ramsay, hey?"
"Haha, yes I get that a lot" chuckled Mr. Ramsey, sipping on his wine, a 2014 Châteauneuf-du-Pape, "but it's not quite the same unfortunately - mine is spelt with an e, not an a".
"Ahhhh, I see" I said, through a mouthful of diet coke, "close but no cigar".
He then left the room and I banged his daughter on the counter.
##The end. | As he walked in the door, Gordon smelled the aromatics of a frozen over cooked steak. His eyes darted over the dining room table coming to terms with the fact that his daughters boyfriend was not trained in the arts of cookery. Agreeing to swallow his pride for his daughter he chose not to say anything. And then it hit him. The table lacked the most critical item that was the only redemption for the poor boy. Gordon could no longer contain his rage as he bellowed to the heavens, “Where is the lamb sauce?”
Directed by m night shamalan | 2017-10-19T07:35:04 | 2017-10-19T07:28:40 | 80 | 50 |
[WP] The inner workings of a serial killer portrayed in the style of the movie Inside Out.
EDIT: First front page post, love you guys. | We've tied Sympathy to a railing on the catwalk over the Void of Lost Remembrance. She does not cry, though I'd prefer that she did. Instead, she twists loosely in the breeze, trying, trying to understand what we've done.
"They have families," she says. "Don't you care at least about the families they left behind?"
We close the door and leave her there, so we no longer have to listen. In all this time, in all these years, she has never gotten better. She is always looking outward, towards people and places and things that are not us, and worries about *them* and *their happiness*. She cannot understand why that doesn't matter. We cannot convince her.
So she will twist over the chasm for a time. And we will go back to work.
Pride is working the controls, alone, as usual. We watch as the Husk glides through white and green halls, thin carpet stretched over cement, closed doors on either side. The Husk knocks twice on one door that is entirely like all the rest, and a woman inside says, "Come in."
She is a pretty woman, black bun'd hair, wire glasses, sitting in the valley between two teetering stacks of binders.
"This case, right?" she says, smiling, playfully straightening one of the mounds. "After all this, I hope he's not actually guilty."
Disgust spits on the screen. "Whore!" he shouts. "Why does she talk to us like that? Like we're the same? Like we're equals?"
Patience is there, though, putting a small hand on the rough hide of Disgust's scaly back. "There there. In time, in time. She'll see. Just give it a bit."
Excitement has wings, and she flies about the chamber, dragging her small, fairy feet across the top of Disgust's head. "You hear that, buddy? We'll get 'er! Oh yeah, we will! We'll cut her up! Up up *up*!" Dancing on the console, she starts counting on her pink, dusty fingers. "We'll cut out her heart, and her lungs, and her kidneys, then the liver, then her uterus - that's my very very favorite! - and then all those intestines and then..."
"Knock it off!" growls Pride, shooing her away. "I can't see what I'm doing."
"You alright, Jack?" says the woman, her face a veil of concern, false and womanly. "You look far away."
"Oh," says the Husk, and I see Pride flick the switch, turn on that sly smirk. "I get a little lost when I'm around you."
She sighs, almost in spite of herself. Pride sits up straight, leaning slightly back. He's satisfied. They all are. And it's in these moments - these pivotal points, where everything begins coming into alignment and the wheels start picking up momentum - it's always in these moments when they all turn to look at me. To see what I'll say, or if I'll say anything at all.
"It's good, isn't it, Remorse?" says Excitement, fluttering before me. "We got another one!"
And I smile. And shrug. As I always do. "Looks like it." | "Ugh," Disgust said. "Did that guy on the other side of the diner forget to say thank you to his waitress? That makes me so-"
"Noted," said a gentle voice. "He drives a Honda Accord. He left the rear left door unlocked."
"I'm not so sure, Bloodlust," Joy said. "Maybe he already thanked the waitress earlier and felt weird about doing it a second-"
"We always say 'Thank you'," Bloodlust said. "That's what Mother taught us."
"Ah, yes," Joy said. She turned to look at the memories that lined the wall. She found the yellow one that represented Mother's lessons about manners. "I guess.... that's one of our good memories."
She looked at the orbs that surrounded the yellow one. A few were green, several were purple or red, but the overwhelming majority were grey. By the time she turned around, Bloodlust had his grey hands on the controls.
"Let's get to the back seat of the car," Bloodlust said in his calm, level voice.
"Hey, Bloodlust," Fear said, timidly. "We already left that dog walker's body near this park. Shouldn't we be careful about doing this again so soon?"
"Doing what?" a deep voice said from the back of the control room.
Anger, the largest of the emotions, shifted his weight in his cage. His shoulders brushed the edges of his cell
"Nothing, Anger," Joy said. "Remember, Dr Nelson said you have to stay in there."
"But he broke out of the cage when that guy in the park didn't clean up after his dog," Fear whispered. "What if he gets out again."
"Don't worry," Joy said. "We've been going to sessions twice a week. And remember Dr Nelson's words. She said that if you're ever feeling on edge, just-"
"Why didn't you thank the waitress?" Bloodlust whispered into the microphone.
"Oh, no," Joy said.
They all looked at the monitor to see that the driver had returned to the Honda Accord, and a belt was tightening around his neck.
"What?" the driver choked out. "What... the fuck..."
"Why didn't you thank her?" Bloodlust repeated.
"Wait," the driver said looking at the rearview mirror. "I recognize you. You were in Dr Nelson's waiting room."
Bloodlust hesitated before speaking again.
"It's ok," the driver said. "It's ok that you go to therapy. We all need a little help once in a while. And Dr Nelson... she's like a mother to me!"
"Dr Nelson..." Bloodlust whispered. "Mother...."
"MOTHER!" Anger bellowed from the back of the control room as he exploded out of his cage | 2017-01-25T07:28:50 | 2017-01-25T07:25:21 | 3,201 | 498 |
[WP] You stare at the pills in your hand. The doctor taps his foot impatiently. "These will really cure me of hearing that voice?" you ask. The doctor rolls his eyes. "Yes, you'll never hear her again." You level your gaze on the doctor. "I never told anyone the voice was female..." | The doctor tries to play it off.
"Oh sorry,I know,I was jus...."
But it was too late . Overwhelmed with a sense of paranoia, you begin looking around the room frantically, and the doctor jumps up dashing for his desk.
You grab his hand , you don't know why ,but you just do . You can feel the fear radiating through him, his eyes jolting around as if asking for help.
You look where he was reaching to, a small button hidden under his desk. But why ? What does the button do , and why would he need to press it for a normal man like yourself.
Your entire life you've worked a normal job, had a normal family, and normal hobbies. The voice was the only thing not normal about you, and you just wanted help.
The voice had to be some type of mental disorder, the things she told you to do ,you could never do , they weren't human.
"Let Me Go Now Number 42!" The doctor yells out, interrupting your thoughts.
By now he was shaking, sweat dripping off his brow, and his face as white as a sheet.
"Number 42?!? ,what does that even mea.." you started to say, but were interrupted by the pounding inside your head and her voice.
"Let him push the button, he won't like what's next." | "You'll never hear her again." The phrase your stomach drop. "I never told anyone the voice was female." you say, voice trembling. Your heart starts to race as you come to the disturbing realization that you were in a delusion. This one felt so real. The doctor seemed to break, his body growing rigid as he stood there. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself. You remind yourself that this isn't your first rodeo, the delusion would end shortly, it always did. Sure enough you look around to see that the walls of the office were cracking. You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh, it was time to find out just how long you've been gone from reality this time.
&#x200B;
((sorry if this was bad it's my first time writing in that kind of perspective.)) | 2018-12-28T16:48:51 | 2018-12-28T14:32:17 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] The programmers of the world wake up to find that they can do magic by writing (and with focused speaking) programs. What are C, C++, Java, Python, Haskell and other major languages like? Which are 'regular magic', 'beginner's magic' and 'dark arts' etc.? What is your day like?
How does a person cast: "shoot an arrow", "shoot ten arrows" and "shoot a storm of arrows?"
*I am actually /lit/man from 4chan. | The hallway was dark, but I ran anyway. My clothes clung tight to my body, my breath coming in short spurts, and I glanced at my smartphone one more time; still fried, the screen dark and unresponsive. So much for my preparations.
I'd have to do this manually.
I closed my eyes, just for an instant. There was a certain focus programmers needed to execute realcode, and the bullet hole in my shoulder wasn't helping. My biocode process was throwing warnings at me every few seconds, and I knew I didn't have long before it crashed and the bleeding began again. Not to mention the pain.
I took a deep breath, and pulled the well-worn lines of my operating system to mind. Time slowed down. The footsteps behind me faded into faint echoes, and when I opened my eyes again the world was blurred like a runny watercolor.
**>**
"Ping 8.8.8.8," I muttered. I glanced behind me. My pursuers had just rounded the corner, expressionless helmets shiny from the thin dribbles of light reflected off the nearby skyscrapers. I hoped they didn't have their own coder, at least not yet. If their on call programmer was stuck in the bathroom, I might have a chance. Otherwise, I was looking at revocation of my license at a minimum, and getting stuck teaching community college coding classes to high school dropouts.
More likely, though, I'd be looking at a bullet to the head, or life in some secret underground prison in some hellhole without an extradition treaty.
*Request timed out.*
**>**
Virtual static crackled in my ear. They'd blocked satellite and Wifi connections. I couldn't even access my stored programs at home, which meant that any realcode I wanted to run I'd have to verbally invoke. The walls of their security net were closing in.
"Python 3.1," I said. C++ would be more efficient, but I didn't have time to compile. The few seconds I saved might be crucial.
**>>>**
I glanced over my shoulder. One guard had already raised his gun.
"Import physics as phys. Import self." I rounded the corner, just as the shot went off and shattered a window. I didn't have much time.
**>>>**
"Phys.teleport(self.Self, self.Self.home)."
*InsufficientPowerError: Self.Energy < 100000 kJ. Execution will terminate self. Exiting...*
**>>>**
Shit. My shoulder was beginning to sting again, endorphins wearing thin. I glanced at the window: the height made my head spin. If I didn't have enough power left to teleport, I definitely didn't have enough for antigrav. I took a deep breath, and tried again.
"If phys.object.velocity > phys.SI(10) && phys.object.distance(self.Self) < phys.SI(0.01), phys.repel(10000)."
**>>>**
My chest tightened and I stumbled, catching myself on the wall. If a piece of code that simple made me dizzy...
Waves of fear rushed over me. Stairwell. I needed to find a stairwell and get out, before-
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:43:51.827462*
A bullet crashed into my shield half an inch from my head. A chill ran down my spine, the energy pulled straight from my dwindling reserves.
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:43:52.827462*
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:43:53.234781*
I rushed into the stairwell, and groaned. The sound of footsteps echoed from the ground floor; another squad. I didn't have nearly enough stamina to deal with them.
At least, not normally.
"Import biology.neurology as neuro. Import chemistry.organic as orgo."
Every programmer had their little tricks, based on their background. Once, long ago, I'd studied to be a biologist. This was one of mine.
"TTDX = orgo.complex(). TTDX.formula = C eleven, H seventeen, N three, O eight. TTDX.structure =..."
I slammed the door shut, and closed my eyes. I had about five seconds to visualize the molecule I wanted. The loops arranged themselves in my head, coiled like miniature serpents.
The door burst open.
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:44:10.339582.*
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:44:10.512341.*
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:44:10.522345.*
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:44:10.633456.*
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:44:10.723434.*
My fingers went numb. Something warm and wet ran down my arm. The code keeping my shoulder stable had finally crashed.
"For each (person in physics.location(relative, self, phys.SI(10)))..."
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:44:13.212344.*
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:44:13.238783.*
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:44:13.338783.*
The words came hard, my tongue thick and heavy. The world flickered back to solidity for one brief, terrifying moment. I looked up at a blank visor, and spoke.
"...neuro.medulla(person).apply(TTDX, 10)."
**>>>**
There was a clattering of guns, the heavy slump of bodies hitting the floor, then silence. Tetrodotoxin. Or, to most people, pufferfish venom. I'd paralyzed them completely. They had about three minutes before they died of asphyxiation, but I had about one before their self-diagnosis systems figured out and fixed what I'd done. And after that, if anyone ever figured out I'd used my equivalent of nerve gas, I was going to jail for a long, long time.
*InsufficientPowerError: Warning! Phys.repel will not function.*
**>**
*Error: Heal.exe terminated.*
**>>>**
Pain blazed through my head, but adrenaline kept me moving down the stairs. I made sure to step on as many of them as I could on the way down. | I wrote a story about wizards doing programming. Is it close enough?
**Ghosts in the Library**
"Here, look at what I made!" Zigzag handed over a paper to Cala, the head of safety.
It was an paper, that said:
"Welcome to the Library, we are happy
to serve you any book that you like.
Please state your query:"
And underneath there was a box. "You can write the name of a book in the box with your finger!", Zigzag stated proudly.
"And then what?" Cala asked.
"Then it gets that book from the library." Zigzag took the paper back from Cala's hands and wrote some letters in the box with his fingers. And by magic the letters appeared in black. He wrote "Magic for tea, vol 4".
"And now wait" Zigzag said, and he handed the paper back to the wizard of safety. "Here, look on the other side."
Cala turned the paper around, and indeed there was the text from magic for tea, vol 4.
"I call this magic paper.", Zigzag explained, " It is a ghost created by a spell, that sends what you write to the library. And in the library there is a ghost that takes your query, and then goes to the book and reads it. And what it reads goes back to your paper. I call the paper: PHantom Paper. And the ghost in the library: Mystic Squirrel. It does even look like a squirrel."
Cala looked again at the paper and said: "The paper is not big enough. I can only see the first bit of the front page."
"It is not perfect yet", Zigzag answered. "I want to add a scroll roll, so you can roll the paper around. But if you want to, you can query each page 1 by 1. Just add page 5 bottom to the query and it will show you"
Cara turned the paper back again and added more numbers to the box on the paper. He tried to find the pages about the 50 shades of earl grey tea. This took longer than he thought. It was not even at page 14, when suddenly there was a commotion in the hallways.
"OOK!!" the librarian rushed towards Zigzag, looking very angry. He took zigzag in one move in his big hands, and pulled him back to the library.
Cara rushed after them. "What is going on?" he asked.
"OOK!" The libarian explained.
Cala knew there was big trouble. He entered the library, and walked towards the librarian was standing and Zigzag was hanging. The librarian pointed with his empty hand towards a large book, and said again: "OOK!"
Cala studied the scene, and saw a trail of small bits of paper lying on the ground. Then he opened the large book and found a dead squirrel in it. "What is happened?"
The librarian explained that the mystic squirrel had started to eat some books, and it started other stronger books to revolt and this book killed it. He was very happy that it was caught, before the squirrel did more damage.
"How could this happen?" Cala asked Zigzag, while he pointed the phantom paper towards his head.
"I don't know." Zigzag answered "One can put any query in there that you like, but I don't think anyone would try to do something bad with it."
Cala was really worried now. "How many people did you give this paper to?"
"You were the last one of the wizards." Zigzag replied. "I gave some to the staff too, so that must be like 100 or something?"
"My goodness. You have given one to Ceecee. He is a master hexer. I think he might be doing this"
They ran down the stairs towards the cellar were Ceecee was usually hiding.
"Open the door!" screamed Cala, while opening the door by himself. Ceecee was on the couch and looked very ashamed.
"I did not expect you to come here". He dropped the paper on the ground and it showed some images from biology lessons.
Cala picked up the paper and looked at the query. "Magic for having a good time" It did not say much more than that, and it was not really what caused the problems. He asked "Did you hex into the library?"
"No.. hmm. I only tried some queries. Nothing special. Maybe Pyter did something nasty?"
They went to Pyter's room and under the door some smoke was appearing. They opened the door, without even stating to open the door.
And there was Pyter with a weird look in his eyes, looking at the paper at the desk. Cala took the paper from his hands quickly.
"Ook!" stated the librarian. Cala agreed. Pyter had been reading some of the forbidden books.
Cala took the paper out of his frozen hands, and cleared the query. The paper on the other side became blank again.
"Ok, lets go to the head-wizard. We have to stop this!"
They met Fortana in his office and sat around the table. Except for Zigzag, who was still held in the air by the librarian.
"I did really like this phantom paper" Fortana declared. "It saved me from many trips to the library already. How can it be so bad?"
Cala explained: "Well the problem is that anyone can let the mystic squirrel do any query that you think of. That means that you can get forbidden books or books that are stronger than you.
If we want to keep the squirrel there should be really something that stands in between the squirrel and the paper. Something that forbids certain queries to be taken."
"That is a good idea." Fortana stated. "Lets start implementing some barrier ghost inbetween these two spell ghosts."
"But we still don't know why it started to eat the books." Cala replied.
And now Fortana turned slowly red. "Hmm.." He coughed a few times. "I was so happy with the phantom paper, and not needing to go to the library. So I thought of telling the phantom paper to get me something to eat too."
"What did you do?! " Cala asked.
Fortana aswered: "I wrote in the box: 'Bring me some food. I'm very hungry; eat anything.' And then it stopped working."
"Can you explain that Zigzag?". Cala was very angry now.
Zigzag was now sweating. "You used a quote, and you used a semicolon? Did you? The squirrel will just do everything you put after that."
---
I have some more such stories at:
/r/unseen_programming
| 2015-04-13T10:39:49 | 2015-04-13T07:51:35 | 149 | 70 |
[WP] Homeless and starving, you feigned amnesia. Convinced, they admitted you into a psychiatric facility for treatment. Without an ID, no one knew you were. After a year of food and shelter, a family you don't recognize appears and claims you as their son, with photos and documents to prove it. | Thus far his plan was proving to be one of his better ones... Belly full, tucked in, warm and cozy in a stentch-less room. Albeit the bed was made of wood and the mattress like a thin slice of ham, at least it wasn't a folded blanket on a slab of concrete. As he closed his eyes and began to drift, outside his bedroom door, whispers communed.
A couple. Followed by the doctor swinging the door open and strutting straight to the foot of his bed. "Timmy? Oh Tim! It's really you. Thank you so much doctor." Smiles from ear to ear. As they approached him, Timmy sat up, or rather Lucas shot up from under his duvet cowering against the backboard of his bed. He looked at the elderly couple, reaching towards him and he thought to himself, *'Shit, maybe I do have amensia.'*
His name wasn't Tim and he'd never seen either of them before, and as a matter of fact he never had amnesia to begin with. Just before Christmas Lucas was found by passers-by collapsed on the side of the road. Once awake and asked to identify himself, a eureka moment struck. He played the amensia card and has ever-since been enjoying the casual life of a regularly fed psychiatric patient.
"Mr Doe. These are your parents, Julia and Eron Gold. They say you disappeared over two years ago but have been persistent in their venture to find you."
"Son, we're aware this must be confusing for you."
"I think you both must have me confused with someone else."
The Doctor clears his throat, "We've had all the documents checked, IDs confirmed. These are indeed your parents. Since your stay here has mostly been voluntary admittance due to your condition, we've deemed in the past year that you've proven yourself sound of mind and well enough to be taken home. I'll let you get acquainted for a few minutes."
As he walks out the elderly couple uncouple their hands and the smiles fade from their faces. "Up to your old tricks again Lucas?" says the old man.
Immediately Lucas begins piecing this bizarre puzzle together.
"Five years. The Boss isn't happy, you've got a lot to answer for," says the old woman pacing back and forth in front of his bed.
The very reason he had become homeless in the first place was to escape The Boss, though it seemed his old life had finally caught up to him. The doctor walks back in.
"How are we?"
"I'd actually like to stay here a b-" Lucas then notices the gun tucked into the old man's trousers as he peels back his jacket. 'I- uh."
"I think he's ready and willing to come home with us and get better acquainted with us there," says the old man.
"Is that right Mr Doe?"
Lucas nods. They begin gathering his things and the old man approaches to help Lucas up from the bed, wrapping his arm around Lucas' waist, "My son how I've missed you." Lucas can feel the gun digging into his side.
As they leave Lucas looks back at the doctor, a weary unsettling stare. The doctor felt something amiss but only momentarily as he watches the older woman caress his face before sliding them into the car.
"Good luck Mr. Doe!" shouts the doctor waving, Lucas' eyes locked to his as they drive out of the estate. | The family walked out of the directors office, leaving me alone with the director and my assogned doctor. There was an eerir quiet, and i could feel my heart pounding from the shock and confusion.
I quickly got up and said “Dr.Murphy… may i speak to you for a second..?privately?”. The doctor,confused, looked at me and said “Mr. tirson, is everything ok?”, “yea… no” I answered while grabbing his arm and pulling himmout of the office, “h-hey where are you going??” Asked the director, i peaked my head from the closing door and answered “We’ll be just one second” beofre quickly closing it and leading dr.Murphy to an empty examination room.
“What is it Tirson? Do you remember who you are? Do you remember who i am? Can you rememb-“ “YES! yes, i know who i am, i know who you are, all of that, but i’ve got a problem, and i’m not talking about the amnesia” Murphy looked confused “what is it then? You’ve just found your family and you’re finally going home, what’s the problem?”, i sighed “ Listen i’ve.. i’ve got something to tell you… they’re… they’re not my family”; The doctor cracked a smile and almost laughed “oh, hah, don’t worry sir, they are, i knoe it’s quite scary having someone you don’t remember claim they’re your family but it’s compl safe and i’m sure they’ll take care of you.”
I covered my face, sighed and then looked him straight in the eyes “Look, i lied, I haven’t git amnesia, i faked it, i had met sone people woth actual amnesia, knew how they acted, and i just replicated it, and.. you all fell for it. I can prove it too, tell you things that i’m supposed to have forgotten… and… i can tell you they.. they’re not my family… I don’t know who they are.”.
Dr. Murphy had a look of confusion and disbelief on his face… and after processing it for a bit says “what… what are you talking about, you’re suffering from amnesia this doesn’t make any sense”.
I looked at him and found a chair to sit down on, holding my head between my hands “My name’s Jack Bell, i was poor.. didn’t have a house, didn’t have a job, my parents don’t talk to me, i had nothing… so i came here faking an illness and leeching your kindness, it was a stupid idea, i’m sorry but those people… they aren’t my family, i have no idea who they are.. I’m scared.
Dr.Murphy seemed more and more intrigued..”ok… I’ll believe you, but beofre o can help you, i need you to prove to me you are who you say you are..” | 2022-08-13T08:24:17 | 2022-08-13T01:23:16 | 39 | 24 |
[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. | I take a step forward. The line to the High Magister grows shorter by the moment as the people befor me are tried and executed on the spot befor the Grand Court of Wizards.
The reading of crimes is honestly the longest part, the crimes are listed for each of us and given a unanimous guilty verdict on the spot.
Cant say I blame then really, the coup didnt go quite as planned.
I'd love to say I was the mastermind behind everything but truth be told I'm little more then another cog in machine of revolution, one that broke quite handily when our silver tongued leader mysteriously vanished.
We just wanted non-magic folk to be taken more seriously, to be treated like actual citizens.
I take another step forward. I shake my head of the thoughts, pointless to think about it with more impending matters. Third in line now. I watch Andrew take centre floor. He used to be a cook befor getting caught up in this mess, cant say we spoke much but still a shame just the same.
The High Magister repeats the same phrase that everyone befor him heard last. "Choose your method of execution". There is a moments pause befor the old cook smugly replies "Old age". Cheeky sod read the same story I did.
With a wave of his hands the Wizard casts a spell and to my horror I see Andrew rapidly ageing till he is little more then a dead emaciated old man. "Bugger, there goes that idea" I mutter to myself.
"Next" The high Magister proclaims, waving his hand dismissively as a pile of dust blows away that used to be Andrew. I didnt know the woman in front of me but she looked like she had been through the ringer.
I take the time to think, my brain working as hard as it can to think of something, anything at all.
"Choose your method of execution" I snap from my thoughts and look up to see what she picks, maybe it will help. "Without regrets" she replies, little vague and not really a method but hey the Court seems to accept it. There is a quick flash of light, I turn away instinctively and blink away the sunspots left behind.
When I look back she is just stood there, not moving an inch. "Next." But... she is still alive? I walk to the centre and my crimes are listed off, I dont pay attention, I know what I did. I get a good look at her and wish I hadn't, her eyes, her face, her expression. They lobotomised her. The body might be there but there is nothing left inside.
I clench my fists tight, I'm angry but not at my situation. I'm angry that they seem to revel in punishing people who they think are trying to be clever.
"Choose your method of execution"
Well that was fast. I relax, no point in fighting it after all. I look up to The High Magister and smile, my body trembling but my mind set. I know how to beat this.
I open my mouth and give the one response I can think of that will work.
"Instant"
A small wave of the hand. I dont even get to hear the "Next" | 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.* | 2021-06-24T10:08:14 | 2021-06-24T03:42:17 | 255 | 66 |
[WP] If your death is imminent, time stops for everyone but you. This allowed you to cheat death on many occasions by avoiding all sorts of danger except for now - you have no idea whats threating your life. Its been a year since time stopped. | I started keeping my own personal time by counting cycles of my fingernails growing; I clipped them every three weeks before time stopped. Every time before, time stopped for only a short period. Once, it was a car swerving out of control, headed in my direction. Another, a crazed gunman at university. Once I had removed myself from the situation, everything returned to normal, with no one else any the wiser. This time was different; I've clipped my nails 17 times. Nearly a year, give or take, of time that I've spent alone in this world.
I still come home to you every night. There you are, never moving, with your favorite show on the television. It's paused on a scene I've come to memorize every pixel of. I take a seat next to you on the couch and pretend that you're here with me still.
You'd be surprised how clean the house stays when you aren't here. The trash doesn't pile up in the can or in every corner of the house. You'd be surprised how quiet the house is when you're gone. Instead of the daily screaming matches we would find ourselves in, the only thing I can hear is the sound of my own thoughts. The thing I find myself the most surprised by is the feeling of freedom that I have; I've left the house without an angry phone call. I don't have to worry you're going to show up at my work when I have to stay late. I've even went to see my parents a few times.
*Your eyes, though frozen in time, still held that fire that I loved so much. I noticed, however, that they were not fixated solely on the television like I had assumed all this time. They seemed to be glancing slightly to the left: the safe I kept my pistol in.* That's when I realized.
_________________
*Edited ending.* | King's log day 263:
Lance tried poisoning my chocolate milk again. That jerk. What's a tyrannical leader got to do to have servants who don't try killing him once a week? It was bad enough when my best archer tried to snipe me while I was just about to finish season two of Breaking Bad (Yes, I did kill her family a few weeks ago… but that was a misunderstanding). I swear a murder attempt comes once every 5 hours. At least at feels that way. I forget what the normal length of a day is - how long it takes the sun to rise.
The peasants must be so confused as to how my heart still beats. If only they knew…
King's log day 628:
You know how you are about to finish a crossword puzzle but you can't figure out who the seven-letter president who paved the way for the Trail of Tears is? Imagine that feeling lasting for an entire year. As I walk around my palace all I see is blank faces - it may as well be Medusa's vacation destination of choice. I tried killing myself but it was about as successful as trying to get a response out of my frozen chefs. I miss omelets. Who cares if they were laced with rat poison?
King’s log day 978:
It’s an atomic bomb isn’t it. Shit | 2018-07-04T14:24:46 | 2018-07-04T14:05:18 | 1,474 | 394 |
[WP] God shares the cosmos with several other dieties. To pass the time they play Civilization like games for eons. God's frustrated that his civilization, Earth, is several ages behind all his friends. | Different minds in different ages to further the development of man.
I, at first, wondered why they had advanced far further than I ever could, we weren't allowed to spy, of course - for that would be cheating. But with every century that passed us by, our scores, our achievements, our *everything* were tallied and revealed to all.
And as it were, Earth was always at the bottom, in all categories except Culture. Which I found absurd, for if they were so advanced, so ahead of me, why did their cultures suffer while mine flourished?
I didn't realize it then, and I still have trouble comprehending it now. But as it were, they focused too much on the end, they didn't let their beings wonder and think, they were but a hivemind, focused on the single goal of advancement, galactic colonization, and universal domination. They advanced with very basic means, but with such sheer determination and numbers that my civilization could not hold a candle to what they were.
And so, when they came to my humble solar system, as it were, it was hard to accept how far behind I was at first; barely making a tiny colony on the moon, and to be met with galactic fleets which could blot out the sun if they tried.
And so Earth fought back, as they would, and it came to be that in all their conquest and power, all their fire and might. They were too simple with their means, and not creative in their destruction.
For Earth, although it never advanced past the moon and the sun, it sat and festered and waged war amongst its own. I was very lax with the laws of creation, and so their differences led to rivalries, but from those rivalries came ingenuity, and from that, power.
Nobody saw the nukes coming.
* * *
^More ^of ^my ^stuff ^at ^/r/khaarus | Jesus is doing well, most advanced in science but his public order is barely in the green, Jesus adopts and invests his saved social policies heavily in the the freedom ideology.
The other gods see this a chance to fuck with him
"Budda has chosen to adopt the order ideology"
"Bhrama has chosen to adopt the order ideology"
"Yahwey has chosen to adopt the order ideology"
Even Zeus and Kronos agree for once and chose to adopt the order ideology.
"Fuck!!" Jesus yells, his public order has gone down to -20. But he doesn't want to change it or he will lose half his policy's. Rebellions sprout up and he has to devote all his empires resources to shutting them down. In the meantime the other civs catch up to him in science. Eventually Jesus gives up.
"Jesus has adopted the order ideology"
"Finally it's over" he thought. But in that chaos the other gods used the distraction and moved their armies to his borders. Jesus knows what's about to happen. But he has no troops left from his rebellions. All the other gods declare war on him at once. And his civilization is carved up like a turkey.
"You have lost, your civilization has fallen to its many foes"
Jesus facepalms and says "whatever I'll get them in a few millennia when this game is over" and goes to watch star trek TNG.
| 2016-04-09T06:40:06 | 2016-04-09T05:49:29 | 347 | 20 |
[WP] You thought creating a universe would be easy. But as these pesky humans kept trying to discover the rules of their reality, you're forced to programme in more and more ridiculous mechanics like "relativity" and "quantum mechanics", hoping humans never found out that they live in a simulation. | "Ma'am, you're going to want to look at this," the research assistant said rolling back away from the quantum microscope.
"Have you made a breakthrough?" The lead scientist asked as she scrambled over, nearly spilling her coffee in the process. "Have we discovered the hypothesized Hyperion particle?"
"Sort of," all the collisions we detected near the event indicate a Hyperion particle is there, but the actual spot itself is just blank."
"What do you mean blank? Like an equipment malfunction?"
"Like there's nothing there, a black absence of existence like the censure of a forbidding god. One that would rather remain unseen."
"Now you're just showing me why I shouldn't have taken a theater major on the team."
"Professor! It's there, alright! More observations show the Hyperion particle building up and exploding in a singularity, about as bright as the sun. I think you'll want to be aware of your surroundings for the next few minutes."
The entire room shook and all the windows shattered. When the room came to a stop, a purple dot with a swirling center blinked into existence. The world was etched in focus, eons of time, lost continents, ancient oceans and even the Sun itself forming was shown in reverse before the swirling universe began convalescing into the shape of a man.
"Quantum particles don't even exist until you interact with them," the cloaked figure said with a sigh as he stepped into reality. "Do you know how hard that was to get to work? Now, not only have you nosy humans found those, but you've gone and found the God particle too."
"Umm, are you...Oh" the professor said.
"Oh, what? are you going to calculate that my name's Dave now?"
"So, the Hyperion particle is the way in which you, guiding creator, indirectly influence the world, creating stricter rules to contain us within what must be a simulation?"
"I made you guys way too smart." The figure said, shaking his head before he leaned down and touched the tile floor. "That's my problem."
"What are you doing?" The professor asked, looking down at the strange figure.
"I'm holding down the power button." He said wearily.
And all that was was not again.
\---
Thanks for reading.
If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing. | I’m so tired. So, so tired. Create a universe, they said. It would be fun, they said. It’ll be a blast, they said.
Well, that was one complete pile of BS.
For the last several dozen thousand years, I’ve been able to keep my creation entertained with religion and mysticism, the glitches and shadowy laziness explained away with spirits and devils. However, as this program’s progressed, these AIs have gotten smarter, to the point that they now see little value in such things. Instead, they prefer to take apart my beautiful creation piece by piece, hacking apart the laws and rules and seeking to understand them, pushing the limits of not only the world I’ve built, but the limits of what I can pull off.
It’s gotten so bad, I haven’t slept in 300 of their years.
To be fair, that’s, like, 30 of my years, so it’s not too bad. I mean, the delirium hasn’t quite kicked in yet, and I’ve only gone through 16 different assistants in the last five months, so I can still take more. It’s not as bad as… oh, about 20 years ago, when I had to work 33 hours a day. My wife seems to be worried, however - it seems she thinks this simulation’s taking up too much of my time. She’s just jealous of my dedication. That’s all. Heh heh heh.
I’m okay. As long as I have this 50-litre keg of coffee, these four cans of energy drinks, and this truckload of Boost every day, I should be fine. Ha ha ha! I’m perfectly okay. It’s not like this is… my…
Oh gosh.
I can’t do this anymore.
Someone help.
Please…
These humans are CRAZY.
Please… | 2021-03-29T08:43:05 | 2021-03-29T07:53:16 | 324 | 183 |
[WP] A magical mirror shows your reflection and your future soulmate. You only see your reflection. | The line snaked around the block that morning, but by the time I strolled by, the sun was low in the sky and only a few stragglers were still waiting. "What the heck..." I said to myself. "Why not?" I stepped into the line.
I heard squeals of excited young teens up ahead, and the line shifted forward. Soon I was standing in the dingy room, the light bulbs flickering now and again as we waited. The woman in front of me turned and smiled when we made it up to the front, "Good luck." She had very pink lips.
I watched her as her face changed from surprise to relief and glee. She only stood there a moment in front of the mirror before rushing off, already dialing her phone. I heard her emotional greeting before she stepped through the door, "Gary? O god, I just saw the mirror..."
It was my turn. I took a deep breath and stepped forward.
But it was just me: my thin white hair that was once blonde, my wobbly hands resting on my cane, the wrinkles around my smiling eyes. I sighed contentedly.
It was probably too much to ask for a future soulmate. *She* *was* *more* *than* *enough* *for* *one* *lifetime,* I thought to myself. |
Anna looked deeply into the magical mirror and saw herself with a tall man with brown hair. The woman clapped her hands with glee and turned to her friend Joe. "Joe, this thing is great! I saw my soulmate!"
Joe adjusted his collar and pushed a hand through his black hair. "Oh really? Who is it?" He asked, with a tone suggesting he was expecting something.
Anna shrugged. "I don't know his name, I just know he's tall and athletic and has brown hair. Tell me, whom do you see?" Joe briefly licked his lips and tried to hide the pain he felt because of her words, then approached the mirror. It was blank. He just stared, his expression empty and void of anything but a masked sorrow.
"Oh, tell me already!" Anna gave the man a nudge.
"Oh, I - I see some blonde lady."
| 2014-05-30T21:45:02 | 2014-05-30T19:13:19 | 77 | 30 |
[WP] Life on Earth evolved within an “FTL Dead Zone” a region of space where all known forms of FTL travel were deemed physically impossible. As such, it was quite a shock when an unknown species suddenly appeared from the Dead Zone one day calling themselves “Humanity” Having done the impossible... | "The math said that space-folding was theoretically possible but impossible on the scale of a spaceship, but the gravimetric survey showed that there are a couple of points where the hyperspatial geometry... look, I don't know all the math behind it. We found that there's a tiny spot in the middle of the Dead Zone where a small folder can operate safely, close enough to reach it with conventional rockets. We sent a few unmanned probes to prove that the drive worked, and this was our first manned mission. And then we ended up here, and you tractor-beamed us and told us to identify ourselves or be destroyed. Because apparently we arrived in the middle of a galactic war." Commander Aldheim finished his recap.
"I am *so* glad the aliens had a universal translator," muttered his copilot. "Can you imagine trying to explain this across the language barrier?"
"Your story appears to be truthful," the alien said bluntly. "But it puts me in a difficult situation. Standard procedure for an unknown sentient species is to avoid confrontation and pass the matter to the Council's diplomatic corps. This allows the new species to be welcomed as equals, and prevents the sort of ugly misunderstandings that caused the First Contact War. But at the moment, the Council is... divided. And I have military responsibilities, as well. Are you a military man, Commander Aldheim?"
The captain hesitated a bit, unsure if he should be talking about his planet's military to an alien, but settled on the truth. "Ex-military. This voyage is a civilian project, but most space pilots have military experience."
The alien hummed thoughtfully. "That's a common pattern in many species - the scientist discovers how to fly, and then the soldier realizes it lets them take the high ground against their enemies. And that's the situation I find myself in. If there really is a safe route for folders in the Dead Zone, then that is the *ultimate* high ground - it could be a safe harbor for our fleets, a hidden fortress, or even a highway into the heart of the Drakon Empire."
"So you're telling me you *want* to do things diplomatically, but in reality we're going to be on the front lines of your war."
The alien spread his hands, a surprisingly human gesture. "I don't like it, but I'm not sure I have a choice. I'll have to give a report once I get back to base. The only choice is whether I report it to high command first, or pass it to the council diplomatic corps. Either way, you'll have aliens knocking on your door pretty soon. Everyone will want to have the high ground."
"Give us a minute." The commander turned off the radio. "What do we do? We can't drag Earth into a war we don't know anything about!"
"I don't see how we could stop him. We don't have any weapons, and we can't even move with the tractor beam on us. Would it kill the aliens to wait until we've invented photon torpedoes or something?"
"Any way we could stop them from finding out where Earth is? Kick this down the road until we're ready?"
"Um... we could blow up our own ship? Or wipe the nav computer? But even then, they'd find it eventually with a gravimetric search. It would just be slower, since they have a lot more area to search." His copilot said cautiously. "Also, call me a coward, but I'd like a plan that gets us home safely."
"No, we do need to get home again. Someone has to tell Earth what we found." He turned the radio back on. "Captain. I get the feeling you're looking for a way to do the right thing."
"Like I said, I've got to report this. This is too important to lie about, even if I could."
"But the details are a little fuzzy, right? Like, you don't know exactly where we came from. That would keep our homeworld safe a little bit longer."
"I suppose that's true... but as soon as you fold out, I'd have a pretty obvious trace. And nobody would believe that I let an unknown alien go without trying to find out where they came from."
There was a pause, then the alien added. "But it would be pretty inconvenient if the trace led towards the galactic core. Almost anyone could have come from that direction."
"Ah, I see what you mean." The captain answered. "We'll get ready to fold as soon as you release us, then."
He closed the channel and started keying coordinates into the computer.
"What are you doing? That's not..."
He quickly shushed his copilot. "Just play along. We have enough power for a few extra jumps. So we give the nice alien a trail to follow, and then run for home. And we warn Earth that we're about to become the grand prize in a galactic war." | It was a fairly run of the mill patrol mission. Head to the outskirts, report any anomolies in the astro-physical makeup and chemical discharges around the area, and above all; avoid the dead zone. It kills ships. Nothing unusual for a seasoned crew.
The Flight engineer, navigator and a couple of other crewmen were playing cards around a table in the corner, each trying to hide their tell. The scientists poured over monitors streaming with incoming data of live samples passing through the spectral decompression filters, watching intently for anything abnormal. The captain was relaxed back in his chair, idly flicking through briefing notes and jotting a few paragraphs of his own down on corresponding forms. Next to him, officially 'at ease' but still upright and attentive, was the commander, ready to be at battle stations in a moments notice.
All seemed still and normal, until the sirens wailed in the bridge, red light flooding the room, monitors jarring from their tasks and sending crew mates reeling to mild panic.
WARNING. ANOMOLY DETECTED. DIVERT COURSE TO AVOID IMMINENT COLLISION. The ships Alert Information (or AI) system crooned.
The flight engineer bolted to his control station, and pulled back hard and to the left on the controls. So hard as the ship churned to a stop, the inertia left it in a slow spin, for the auto-engines to correct and stabilise.
As if by magic, an unfamiliar starship appeared in front of theirs.
COLLISION AVERTED. PARITY RESTORED.
As the hubbub calmed down, an exasperated Captain Griggs swore.
"It's not possible. How?" He pressed the button to send a wave to the anomoly.
A bleary-eyed looking bipedal creature appeared on the screen. Griggs could make out a name and rank on the lifeforms clothing. He decided to initiate contact.
"Greetings Starman, I assume from your uniform you are Major Tom? Can you hear me Major Tom?"
The lifeform blinked again, and yawned, covering his mouth as he did so.
"Loud and clear. I come in peace." Tom replied.
"Glad to hear it, the feeling is reciprocal." Griggs breathed a sigh of relief. The Commander was shaken at this exchange. Griggs continued, "Enquiry - what race are you?"
"Human. Of the planet Earth variety." Gasps engulfed Griggs' bridge.
"Whoa, that didn't sound good." Major Tom interjected.
"Far from it - for either of us" Griggs tried to sound as reassuring as possible - "we have many questions for each other, I'm sure."
-----------------
"Wait, you've known about Earth, the Milky Way, our whole galaxy for centuries!?" Major Tom did not sound impressed to learn the news. "And you didn't make yourselves known, just blacklisted our solar system and called it a *dead zone*!?"
"Yes, we felt it for the best, the wider councils agreed. Humans were deemed to dangerous to interact with in 1945. Two willful, vaporisation blasts on your own species? It may have been to stop chemical tortures, but still, an extreme, violent measure. The next time we observed you, you were raining fire down on villages full of children. A fire that stuck your own kinds skin. Again later, chemical warfare against yourselves. It was decided to 'quarantine' you for the next thousand ish years and see if you'd discovered peace." Griggs explained as calmly as he could, though having to say the words would normally have enraged him.
"Well, I can see how you'd view it that way." Tom said, resigned to agreement.
"We set up an elctro-magnetic pulsar system in strategic positions, cloaked throughout your solar system, with a central hub around Mars. It wasn't meant to harm, but to prevent your systems from achieving FTL travel. How did you do it?"
"I don't understand the science, but it's something to do with folding space over itself and essentially punching a hole through the two sheets of space." Tom attempted to explain.
"I understand, Major. You job is to pilot a ship, and lead men, not explain middle sciences. We will each inform our leaders of our discoveries today. I will send you a long range transmitter affixed on this ship's frequency. We've already a lock on yours, and your planet. Let this begin a new dawn for humanity. A peaceful one." Griggs was a bout to sign off when a smile crept across his face. "Oh, we heard your golden record by the way. We like that David Bowie fellow." | 2021-01-09T14:23:34 | 2021-01-09T13:05:48 | 92 | 65 |
[WP] The mass extermination of an alien civilization looks unavoidable. Desperate, their leaders use the last working wormhole to "call the humans", as told in the myths and lore tens of thousands of years old. | "Humans, how may we help you" said a cheery voice on the other end.
"Umm hi, is Reagan still alive? He kinda owes us a favor and we kinda need it now."
private Keizth replied, his first day at HQ and he of all the Rogniians was tasked with making the call to save their species.
"Oh no deary, I'm afraid Ronald Reagan has been dead for quite a bit, god bless his soul, however I see that you are in fact on the VIP list, I'll just go right ahead and connect you to the new guy." The twangy human continued. There were a series of click and loud noises until finally the line fell silent again with only the fuzzy background noise Keizth was all to common with.
"Uhhh Hello. This is uhhh Barack Obama. Uhhh president of the United States of America and uhhhhh ally of the great uhhhh Rogniians. How can we uhhhh assist you today?" the voice was that of an older man who seemed calm only because he had trained himself to be so.
Keizth began quickly "Hello Mr.President this is Keizth Togart, private in the Rogniian army, I'm calling on behalf of the entire species..."
*Chuckles*"Ahh the great Rogniians, I've uhh heard uhhh quite a good bit about you, your leader was very close with Reagan"
"Yes sir, but we do not have time for formalities, we desperately need your he..."
"We here uhhh always have time for formalities, isn't that right Michelle?", in the distance a quick, sharp, but mature voice was heard,
"Shut up Barack"
"Haha that woman is quite the joker, love that smile of hers," there was a break in his voice, but it was quickly fixed "So what is your uhhh reason for uhh calling today?"
Relieved to finally have the presidents attention Keizth began again "Sir we need the help of the humans, we are currently being slaughtered by our neighbors, their weaponry far more advanced than we can conceive."
"Now uhhh Keizth, if you don't uhhh mind me asking, who exactly is it that is uhhh attacking you?"
"The Pertogars, we need help immediately," Keizth retorted quickly with some frustration
"Oh the uhh Pertogars? Now that creates an uhhh issue, it seems the Pertogars are some of our uhhh finest clients, we the people of America will have to uhhh sit this one out."
"**WHAT!?**, Mr. President what kind of monster are you? My people are dying in the streets, mothers, children, young and old, and you sit quietly and do nothing? You will hear of us soon enough." Keizth replied frustrated and enraged.
"Those damn lazy pieces of harg, we are all doomed and they do nothing!" Keizth shouted as he began to tear the room apart, but something caught his eye, a small slip of paper, another number, and a simple message.
"We are stronger together"
Keizth with no options left nervously dialed the number.
"приветственный возглас."
"Hello? This is Keizth Togart, private in the Rogniian army, I'm calling on behalf of the entire species, we need help desperately, are you services available?"
"да"
"Will you help?"
"да"
"I cannot understa..." Keizth began before he saw it, before he could process what was happening the world became brighter than it had ever been. When the light faded a crater stood prominent in field before the HQ, a single shirtless human male emerged.
Years later the Rogniians still spoke of the man who slayed the entire Pertogar invasion with a gaze of boredom and a bottle of clear liquid that never left him.
| 'You can't break the seal! You don't know what you're releasing!'
Chancellor Grom turned to face the source of the cry, it was General Parss.
'We're being over run, I have no other option. Our army is in disarray. You know as well as I, the Humans are the only thing that could possibly repel the invaders!', Grom chittered back, raising his crest defiantly.
'They were cut off from the wormhole network for a reason! They're savages, monsters. Their culture evolved from bands of roving pack hunters, that mindset never left them. All they do Is kill and conquer. If you let them out of their home system we'll never be able to drive them back!' The general thrilled holding out his taloned hand imploringly.
'I am not prepared to see our world die! I am not prepared to see our people die when I know I have the means to save them! These Humans are indeed terrible, but we need a terrible weapon to fell a terrible foe!', Grom spun and tapped a code into the glyphs on the control lectern.
'You've opened the gates hell...', Parss hissed drawing his side arm.
The cyclopean wormhole gate flickered and burst into life. A great ring wide enough to accommodate the bulk of a starship, it was a sight to behold.
Reality warped and thrashed within the gate, an ancient device that linked systems. Allowing travel across vast distances in the blink of an eye.
The gate flickered, a tell tale sign that something had come through. A single craft flew through. It banked smoothly and set down near the General and Chancellor.
Its midnight black hull seemed to eat the light. A hatch on its side hissed open and a single figure stepped out.
It stood tall on two legs, its form appeared slim, frail even, but the way it moved betrayed a powerful musculature. Clearly its body was augmented with cybernetics, imbuing its bipedal frame with an unholy mechanical strength.
It regarded Grom and Parss with the measured gaze of a predator. Its gimlet eyes alighting on Prass' sidearm.
In one swift motion it drew a weapon and fired killing Parass where he stood, blowing apart his thorax with a flash of arcane energies. Grom shrieked in terror and threw himself on the ground. The human ignored him and walked over to the control lectern.
With one powerful punch from its strangely placed forelimb it smashed the ancient device. Now there was no way to seal the wormhole.
The human turned to face the rippling gate. In a harsh tongue it spoke into some kind of transceiver device. From the gate erupted the prow of a gigantic warship.
Midnight black and bristling with ungodly armaments the ship was like nothing Grom had ever seen, it was perfectly crafted for killing. As soon as it cleared the gate it was followed by another, then another, then another. It seemed that there was no end to these human's war machines.
They rose up into the sky, blotting out the sun. There they encountered the invader's armada.
The invaders ships were smashed out of the sky nearly instantly. The human's ships didn't even slow down as they bathed the invader's in atomic fire. Then they turned their guns on Parss' forces.
They barely had time to scream.
Grom shuddered, watching as more and more ships slid through the gate.
What had he done? | 2015-07-06T19:12:00 | 2015-07-06T17:02:45 | 27 | 19 |
[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect. | A shinning like awakens the inmate in the middle of the night. The cell doors open outward as the guards walk in. The light protrudes from the middle of the seven-fingered hands of the alien species. A light so bright only the strongest flashlight could produce back on Earth.
No words are spoken, for no words are needed. Even if they were needed, it would be impossible. The languages of the two are not compatible, as one speaks via sound waves coming through the air, while the other speaks via electrons through the mind.
The inmate is grabbed by the chains that hang from his wrists, his body jerked off the stone block from which he rested. "It is my long-awaited time", he thought, as the guards quickly dragged him through the dim-lit hallway. A wretched stench quickly rushed through his nostrils, as if a skunk had just passed by, or a barrel of diesel had been spilled.
Fear of death was not in his mind, as the other inmates had all but come back to their cells. However, the crushingly constant worry of losing his consciousness, his state of mind if you will, gazed his eyes in wonder. All the others had come back...different. Some would be quiet, with a distant stare. Others would come back with a manic laughter, seemingly unable to control it.
"What will become of me? What will they do to me?" his mind shouted internally as he riffled through the possibilities. Was he going to be probed? Mind control? The anticipation was agonizing. After all, it would only be a few more seconds until he finds out what there is at the other side of the great green door.
The door opened to a white and windowless room. The smell that was lingering in the hallway now protruded over every surface. A lonely chair and a small table stood in the middle. Before he could look at anything else, he was dragged and sat on the chair. His chains became loose without a key, and the guards quickly rushed off.
His palms turned damp and cold. His legs could've very well been gone, as a sudden numbness grazed his lower body. His heart began pounding faster and stronger. More blood began to pump through his veins and up his neck to his brain. His ears slowly started to ring, developing into a loud and high-pitched noise. His eyes, his eyelids, his lips, all started twitching uncontrollably.
It was then that he noticed the vents on the floor. White smoke began to rise from the floor, and like a mist it began to hover over every surface of the room. He held his breath, with his eyes watering as the incoming gas-like substance surrounded him. "Is this arsenic? Anthrax? Chlorine?" he wondered as he tried to remember the chemistry course he took in college. If only he had paid attention, but instead preferred to look up the cute girl's skirt when the teacher wasn't looking.
Finally, his breath could hold no more. He gasped for air, his lungs filled up with the white smoke that surrounded the room from floor to ceiling. A fire-like burning sensation rushed from the bottom of his chest to the tight-knot on his throat. He began to cough, but quickly realized how familiar of a feeling this was. He had coughed like this before, not from the flu nor the plague, but from something else. The flashbacks of sitting in class in quickly shifted to his dorm room. Pictures of himself surrounded by his friends while they called him a "lightweight" and a "bitch" displayed in front of his eyes. It was then that his heart rate started slowing down, and his jaw began to ease.
He coughed some more, and then some more, and then composed himself. He was used to this feeling, and he knew what was coming. It was as if he had prepared for this moment his entire life. As does an athlete when he trains for the Olympics, he had been training for years to withstand this chemical. This room was his Arena. The aliens were his audience. It was finally his time to show what he could do.
He stood from the chair and faced the door from which he entered. Confidently, he shouted at the aliens "You don't know who you're fucking with! I went to Colorado State!" |
Skarlax tapped his eleven fingers on what passed for a knee. "This is ridiculous." he erupts. "We clearly don't understand this creatures chemistry."
"The text of the law is clear. We must use a moral method of execution. Otherwise how can we call our selves civilized?" A high standing law priest by the name of Zaglux retorted.
"Just one of their kind wipe out an entire birthing pod in 10 cycles. How can we expect to remain civilized after such an egregious attack?"
"I can only tell you what the law states. It's is your job to enforce it."
Skarlax tried to read the room. There were some higher ranking families in the viewing room of the execution chamber. They were the parents of some of those lost. The rest of the many thousands would be watching via remote screen. Great sorrow could be felt in every posture and facial expression.
He looked at the mad alien creature in the smokey execution chamber. It pink skin and patches of hair made it look sickly and near death. It's eyes were slits that spoke of or loss of control. It's teeth were bared in what could only be aggression. The worst was it's upturned mouth. Skarlax knew the nasty taunt from his youth and from working with the worst of the worst throughout his career.
"Flush the room. I'm going to end this." Skarlax quickly donned a protective suit and unsheathed a blade that had previously only been ceremonial. He step into the chamber and turned to address the families.
"It is my duty to enforce justice. Our deadliest quickest poisons have had no effect. To give you all peace and to end this criminal with as little pain as possible. I will be performing a traditional *Ras-sak-a*. Those with young children viewing may wish to look away."
A murmur went over the small crowd and he imagined a similar gasp went up at the remote viewing stations. It was unorthodox, but everything about this was. He knew his duty.
He turned to the thing that called itself *hoo-man*. In the war he had performed this act many times. Sometimes as a mercy to those who could not be saved sometimes as a stealthy trick to make a quiet kill before moving on. It was simple. He'd make an incision in the lower torso which would impede breathing, then he would reach inside and compress the *stangalian* nerve to cease all autonomic functions. It was more a more peaceful end than this thing deserved.
The skin was far thicker than his species so it took a few attempts to penetrate. The creature release a high pitch keen that he would have thought impossible after the loss of air to it's system. Confused Skarlax reached inside quickly to silence it. But he could locate the nerve. The lungs were missing as well. There was a strange red fluid and viscera that slide from the opening. He continued searching adding another hand in his panic. But there was no nerve.
He next thought was to destroy the logic centers. To two locations were all nerves met decisions were made. The east and west cities of logic and feelings that the poets wouldn't shut up about. He quickly made numerous alternating stabs into the thighs anticipating the silence and finality he'd been trying for.
But this demon didn't stop. If anything it got louder. It may have been making language though the executor could only see an undead thing from fairy tales or some immortal monster. There was nothing more to be done short of burning it alive.
He stepped out of the execution chamber. He had no words for the families or the law priests.
"Cut the feed" Law priest Zaglux said. And suddenly in place of the noise of this screaming otherworldly thing clawing at it's restraints the was only silence. There would be no justice today. | 2020-05-20T12:48:58 | 2020-05-20T10:48:22 | 30 | 21 |
[WP] You've been granted god-like powers under the condition that you must do as much evil as you do good. | "Well *shit*...." That phrase could be the only way to describe my frustration as I gazed at my work. The man could walk now, but one more child who would contract polio was born in India. If I tried to stop that, two kids would just lose their legs in a car accident in Brazil because some asshole was to busy with the hooker in the car going down the road.
Everytime I helped someone, no matter how minor, it always backfired. Each cancer patient cured was just another child starving to death. Each lottery ticket won was a someone spiraling into suicidal depression over debt.
He wasn't kidding when He granted me these powers. I couldn't believe how indescribably infuriating it is to see everything you do become instantly insignificant. I wanted to help these people so much that it was *hurting*.
No wonder He was so absent in our affairs. This damned loophole in this power is exacerbating to my mind. For the miracles I create, the damned disasters are just as powerful.
There is one good perk though, I can throw my "divine wrath" anywhere and I don't have to worry about the balance. It is kind of liberating, but loses its charm after seeing the 1000th child wailing over his or her deceased mother's body only to see them grow up to be a force for change and good.
"Oh well." The one phrase I squeezed out each time my good was outdone. That's about all I can hope to muster anymore. Morbid curiosity has started to take the place of my altruism. Thoughts of what would happen to people if I threw floods and volcanoes at them. What good the disasters would reap. Would they develop better ways to save people from drowning in the wake of the floods? Would a billionaire donate to the relief fund and save the children in the area of the volcano?
I gazed on at my work and a small thought creeped up in my head and eeked from my mouth...
"I wonder what would happen if I threw a meteor at them..." A smirk sprung up to my mouth. I looked skywards and saw a small wink in the sky. I thought to myself on how the next 10 years were going to be interesting for people. At this I smiled and pondered on the size of the meteor coming. | These are the scribblings of mad man. Found in the wake of an event since referred to as ‘The Blessing’. A time when suffering, fear and death left our part of the world, if only for a short time.
**It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.**
I didn’t expect the consequences to be so immediate.
**It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness.**
I thought i could control it, i thought i would get to choose.
**It was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity.**
For each action, a reaction. Each favor, a misdeed. Each life saved, a murder. Each soul redeemed, another damned.
**It was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness.**
I don’t know which is worse, to live with the horrors I’ve caused for a lifetime or to gaze, just for a moment, in to the good. To watch the perfect lives of those i once loved. Gifted with wealth, immortality, lurid pleasure. How can they not know the cost? How can they live when they cause such pain?
**It was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.**
I can’t go on like this. Knowing that the evil was always here inside me.
**We had everything before us, we had nothing before us.**
The evil must end. The good must end. I must end. I’ve known this all along. And yet i waste time scribbling in books. I waste days, months, years. The pleasure and pain continue as long as i do.
**We were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way.**
My cowardice wins out yet again.
No- Not this time.
| 2014-05-29T15:07:02 | 2014-05-29T15:05:23 | 85 | 15 |
[WP] You die in a car accident and go to the afterlife. Everything is amazing until you meet several generations of relatives who are disgusted by your modern behaviour and all, "want a word." | I looked around the area, some sort of cosmic waiting room, a bemused smile on my face as I looked at all of my ancestors in turn. Most of them were shuffling their feet, as if conflicted on what to do or say. A few of them refused to meet my eyes. Not surprising really, they probably had a long list of grievances about how I lived my life, only for me to muck it up with how I died. It was admittedly impressive, if I do say so myself.
"Well no, don't all talk at once." I drawled, sarcasm dripping from my voice. That seemed to snap them out of their daze, the old guy nearest me focusing a stern look towards me. Not sure exactly who he was, too many generations back and I was never exactly interested in the family drama.
"Boy, your life was a mess. Non-athletic. Lazy. Frail. You sat at home reading and playing on your electronics instead of going out and being a proper adult. You preferred the "company" of other males, like some sort of degenerate. You even wore collars like some kind of animal! An absolute disgrace to our family name! Why, when I was your age I-" I tuned him out when he started working himself up into a proper tirade. Not exactly the first time I had heard someone denouncing the way I lived. Granted, most of them did it when I was *still* living, but oh well.
Man, the old guy sure had a set of lungs. Not entirely sure how much time had passed here, but it seemed like he was talking for ages and still bitching about my life. Yadda yadda, history of warriors, outcast nerd, blahblahblah. After gods-know-how-long, a doorway of light opened up on the side and a big viking looking dude wandered out, sounds of revelry spilling out behind him as the old guy's ranting ground to a halt.
"Hey, processing is taking too long, I was sent to see what was going on." The viking said, walking up to us, me on one side, the old man and the rest of my ancestors behind him on the other. "We were just getting to that. We still had complaints about his lifestyle choices." The old guy grumbled, clearly annoyed but not wanting to outright oppose the big viking dude, who scoffed at his statement.
"Nonsense. He may be small and frail looking and have been a bit unorthodox in his life, but by his last moments he clearly proved to have the blood of a berserker and has more than earned his place among our halls. Come, we've been waiting to hear the tales of your fights. What made you decide to take on an alien invasion with a bunch of tcg cards in a bag, a broom, and a decorative replica of a fantasy sword?" The Viking stated, grabbing me by the shoulders and leading me towards the doorway while the old guy spluttered in the background. I simply shrugged. "It's what I had on hand and they destroyed my favorite steakhouse. Its the one place in the area that can make lamb correctly so I got a bit pissed off." The viking laughed as we stepped through the doorway.
"You'll fit right in. Welcome to Valhalla, friend. I'll show you around." | ‘Angel of death’ are written in crude sharpie on a helmet. It’s written just above a drab green American flag.
The First Reconnaissance Battalion of the USMC makes it start. A blitz to Baghdad.
The radio played dimly as the cars drove across the land like a single tendril of an leviathan. The distance was great and the scenery monotonous. The cool dry air whipped through my hair. I was about to fall asleep, boredom being my lullaby.
At once I knew something happened. I wasn’t in my seat. I lay on a bed of cool dust and rocks. My vision blurry and ears still ringing. My body felt cold. Soon it was hard to distinguish where my body ended and the earth began. I let my eyes close to the soft blue sky.
When I awoke, I was blinded by a warm and comforting light. As I gained my vision, I was on an old country road. A man in an old flannel shirt walked up to me.
“ well darn, thought you had more left in you. Guessing I owe old Roy a ‘you told me so’” he talked in a familiar manner.
“What happened, wait, where am I?”
“Well sir you kicked the bucket. Well technically someone else kicked it but you get the point.”
“Wait what, but I was-”
“Not anymore you aren’t” he winked “you were and now you’re mulch. Ironic not much has need for mulch out there”
“So I’m dead?”
“Yep, and lucky not in downstairs neither”
“I guess that’s better” I said, attempting to look on the bright side. “So who are you”
“Well I’m...” he counted on his fingers “your great great great Uncle Joe”.
“ are you-”
“Yep” he added before I could finish “I was at the battle of Verdun helping the Frenchies when fighting fist broke. You think Iraq was long let me tell you”
I head clambering as other people walked up the path to the dirt road where Joe and I stood. A man in a grey, high collard shirt piped up. His dark hair was long and slicked back.
“ now hold on Joe, remember that I fought longer. You just got pinned down.” He looked over to me “Call me Roy, I’m from your mom’s side. And if you want to see a tough campaign, then you should hear about the Barbary states. I bet you can’t even use a sword”
A woman In a blue dress hurried up the path
“Hush now, don’t harass him none. Don’t listen to them sweetie” Her attention now to me “you fought very bravely when you had to and you did a lot of good. Come on now and meet the rest of the family.” | 2019-07-24T14:00:12 | 2019-07-24T13:54:12 | 79 | 24 |
[WP] Reincarnation has been proven, but you are reborn in the country that you died in. This prompts massive travelling for the elderly. You are someone about to die and desperately trying against all odds to get to the country that you want to be born in before you die. | Have you ever wondered why old folks seem to be gravitationally drawn to Florida? Everyone assumes that it's the climate. When Gramps tells you that he's moving because he doesn't like the cold, what are you supposed to do? Call him a liar?
Well he is. In the eternal words of Dane Cook "Grandma is a cheating whore." They're lying to all of us.
Ponce de Leon, Fountain of Youth, Jack Sparrow and Disney. Where do you think these ideas come from? They're grounded in rock-solid fact of sweet soft young fleshy skin--starting over in the truest sense.
When you die in Canada, or a dream, you die in real life. But Florida? You come back immediately. Have you ever wondered why women become unexpectedly pregnant in Florida? No? Well, now you do. See, the rebirth process stops for no one. There's no purgatory, no "waiting room" to line up for a womb. No, this needs to be instant. Death straight into life.
Which leads me to my next point. Bro, we need to get the fuck out of Panama City and this stupid state in general. They're running out of women! Soon all potential wombs will be filled with the geriatrics. In fact, I hear they're planning their own little Jonestown down in Orlando next weekend. What do you think is going to happen with all of these departed souls and no proper wombs to hold them? Dude, we're going to get knocked up by old people ghosts if we don't get the hell out of here.
| "It's fine Helen, you'll feel better soon," mentioned George placidly.
"I don't know George, should I really have taken a vacation to Antarctica so close to my due date?" replied Helen.
"We're on a luxury yacht free from all the cares and problems of the World."
George and Helen were proud of their upcoming baby. They knew their baby would be the best. They had neglected to found out any information about their pregnancy, preferring to be surprised.
Helen was cold. Antarctica was not her idea of a vacation. She spoke to George, "Dang, it's cold."
George replied "It's cold but it's ok. Your baby will be born in Antarctica, how many people can say that? You might even be the first live birth since Antarctica officially became a nation last year. I bet there isn't another pregnant woman within 1000 miles."
Suddenly a desperate looking boat appeared. As the torn and dilapidated vessel approached George and Helen could see the passengers. There must have been 100 refugees fleeing Terrestrial conflict. All 100 refugees were on the cusp of death.
A look of disturbed realization passed over Helen's face. "Oh fuck." | 2015-12-02T09:23:31 | 2015-12-02T09:14:02 | 29 | 15 |
[WP] You are in possession of an anti-Death-Note. Any dead person will be brought back to life once their name is written on it. Aware of the chaos it may bring, you have to decide what to do with it. | How I came by what I call the "Anti Death Note" is a story in of itself... but that's not actually the interesting part, suffice it to say I found a loophole in the stupid Genies three rules, and how I came by a genuine Genie in a lamp is a story for another day.
What I *did* with a book that would bring back to life anyone who's name was written in it is definitely the interesting part. I tested it with my first pet cat,. The Genie had implied that wishing someone back from the dead would end up in zombies and chaos...and yes I had read Pet Cemetery. But no.. Harley had just sauntered in through the door, like he'd only been away for an hour or two instead of dead for the last twenty years. He'd hoovered up the cat food, gratefully but somewhat bemusedly accepted the tearful cuddles as if they were his just dues, and gone to sleep upside down with his legs splayed every which way ... just as he'd always done.
Satisfied that it wasn't going to pull a Monkey's Paw on me, I sat down to consider what to do. I *could* just keep quiet about it, only resurrecting a few people each year if I so chose. Didn't even need to know them personally or be anywhere near them. Just a few strokes of a pen, and *pop* there they were, alive again. Even the lack of corpus wouldn't make a difference, Harley had been cremated and when I checked the little box on the shelf it was still full.
Question was.. who to bring back?
I did consider running a discrete service, $100 for a resurrection of dearly departed or something like that... but then I thought, 'fuck it!'. Firstly that was too sleazily exploitive and secondly maintaining anonymity would be next to impossible. There would be people who'd *kill* to get ahold of this book.
No, what I wanted to do was shake up the world a bit... let it remain a mystery and really rattle people's complacy, while maybe doing some good.
I smiled as an idea popped into my head... a wonderful, terrible, *brilliant* idea.. both evil and good at the same time... I grabbed for the first thing I could find to write with and started to write.
Queen Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Windsor.
Queen Elizabeth Tudor.
I had to stop a moment and chuckle at the idea of *those* two meeting...
President Abraham Lincoln.
President George Washington.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Alexander Hamilton.
I paused, taking a mental breath... just those four names would create havoc, more so it being election year. But I was in danger of being too USA-centric and there was the rest of the world to consider.
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi.
Temujin, later called Genghis Khan.
Peter Alekseyevich Romanov.
I had considered adding King Arthur, but there was an pretty good chance he wasn't real and i had no idea what would happen if I wrote a fictional person's name. Did it just bring them *back* to life, or did it bring them *to* life? Did it recreate, or create, the person?
Anyway, that was enough political mayhem for one day... my thoughts turned elsewhere, to those that had died before their time, or were missed still... and i knew exactly who to start with!
Elvis Aaron Presley.
Walter Koenig.
Anton Viktorovich Yelchin.
Leonard Simon Nimoy.
James Montgomery Doohan.
Jackson DeForest Kelley.
Grace Dell Nichols, known as Nichelle Nichols.
Ok, so I'm a Trekkie... anyway.. onwards. I had a world to turn upside down and lot of people who deserved a second chance at life! | "Well shit" I say to myself as I watch the scene in front of me unfold. "I really wish I hadn't acted on that intrusive thought" I exclaim as I watch Winston Churchill holding Adolf Hitler in a headlock in his right arm, whilst punching him in the nose with his left.
I wonder who would win in a fight..... It turns out Churchill fights dirty. A swift kick to the crotch before Hilter could even get his bearings, after being brought back from the dead. That brings us to the present scene.
I was a little unsure about what would happen when using the A.D.N, so I decided to go to an abandoned warehouse, in the dead of night to try it.
Let's be honest who wouldn't want to see Hitler getting his face rearranged, but actually watching someone getting beat to death in front of you, is honestly very unsettling.
"Please stop! He's had enough" I shout at the very enraged Churchill.
But, I don't know whether he didn't hear me or just didn't care. The beat down only carried on.
"Who will he listen to?" I wonder out loud.
"Ah! I know!"
I quickly grab my pen and write in the A.D.N.
Now the image I had, when I wrote the name, was not the outcome, I envisioned. Not even close, not even a little bit.
I thought Churchill would listen to the Queen, but before I could get further than "your majesty".
I witnessed a 96 year old lady running up to the duo and throwing, a rather impressive, right hook to the already very bloody face of the badly beaten Hitler.
That was the finisher, Hilter could no longer stand and collapsed in a bloody heap.
"Your Majesty, you have gotten old I almost didn't recognise you" huffed the clearly out of breath Churchill.
"My prime minister" the Queen said softly as she broke out into a smile.
Now don't get me wrong, this reunion would be incredibly touching, if it wasn't over a twitching bloody body.
"Erm" I interject quietly.
They both look over at me suddenly, and both have a look of annoyance on their aged faces.
"Why did you bring us back!" exclaims the Queen, her regal bearing radiating from her as she spoke.
"I-I--I w-well I" I stammered, not sure of what to say.
"Well, spit it out!" She commanded.
As if by some divine intervention, I spot the bloody Nazi slowly commando crawling away from them.
"Look! Hitler is getting away!" I shout and point.
Both of them immediately turn and chase after him.
Now, I'm not proud of this, but I turn and swiftly run towards the exit.
All I can hear over my rapid footsteps is the agonised screams of "NINE!"
As I make it a considerable distance away, from what is soon to be a murder scene, I do what anyone would do in this situation. I burn the God-forsaken book and go home to try and pretend this didn't happen.
Do I regret my actions?
Yes, yes I do.
Probably more so, when I awoke the next day to two horrifically burned historical figures stabbing me in the chest with kitchen knives. Now as I lay bleeding out on my bed, I'm feeling an odd sense of peace.
"Ah, so that's why they were so angry, who would want to wake up from this bliss".
That is my final thought as I pass on from this world. | 2022-11-08T04:29:20 | 2022-11-08T02:36:24 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] A rich man wants you to keep others out of his bunker as the bombs fall. In exchange, he's offered you a separate tiny nearby personal shelter with enough room for a single person that you can hop into at the last minute. | The trick to a good bunker is it's remote, but not TOO remote. Put it in the city and all you have is a lead shielded closet. Put it in the country and there's no way you'll get there in time. This was a good compromise, essentially a two story home underground, just past the suburbs and near the McMansions gated off from the world.
Most days, I was a glorified maid. Rotate out some rations, check some equipment, keep the place reasonably clean. The boss had a party here once. I wasn't invited but he never came back after. That was about four years ago now.
The alert came out before the news picked it up. There were false alarms before but I knew the drill: drive to the bunker, check it all over. But the alert never ended. My phone went off. The bunker tv showed the talking heads look worried, followed shortly by some old canned broadcast.
A few local families showed up. The call was pretty easy to make. The boss was all the way out in the middle of the pacific on some megayacht at another party I'd never been invited to. My phone rang, and I just let it. The bunker was big enough to hold the big man and a dozen others, but it was also rated to stop bunker busters. It could certainly stop an irradiated ghost a hundred miles offshore. | I agreed, of course, who wouldn't. I even told my friends "hey guys, absolutely definitely under no circumstances show up to latitude 43.82 longitude 22.44 between 1500 and 1700 on October 8th". I made sure everyone confirmed the details to be extra sure. And told them to pass it on to their friends.
And then, October 8th, at 1500, Boss Higgins was shocked to find not a few strays, but half the goddamn city at his doorstep.
"But- but you -" he sputtered, spit flying, red faced, choking on his shock
"Yeah, you're right. I did agree to let this entire shelter go to waste, all this food and water, enough to save everyone, just so your bitchass wouldn't have to share your billions with everyone else. But I had my fingers cross." | 2021-08-10T02:53:29 | 2021-08-09T23:19:09 | 101 | 19 |
[WP] A man wants to sell his soul to a demon but the thing he wants in return is so dubious the demon is thrown for a loop. | “So,” said the demon, “You’re offering me your soul plus the souls of anyone else who signs here?”
The demon’s thick-knuckled finger points to a crudely sketched document adorned with syrup and coffee stains. It was at this moment he realizes the contract was hastily drawn on the back of a Denny’s placemat.
“Yes!” exclaimed Henry. “Well… kind of.”
Henry paused for a moment before suspiciously looking from side to side and back at the demon. He leaned in closely. His breath smelled of sausage and waffles.
“You see, You get 10% of my soul. I keep 30%. Then I get 30% of any other soul I sign up, and you get 10% of that soul. Any soul they sign up, I get 10 and you get 5. Now, of course any soul you add, you get 30 and I get 10. It’s all here in this pamphlet.”
Henry hands the demon a glossy tri-fold which reads “GetaSoul” on the cover. The inside shows non-threateningly ugly people standing next to expensive cars with quotes like, “GetaSoul changed my afterlife!” and “I owe my soul to Getasoul!”
The demon looked reluctant.
“Isn’t this one of those multi-level things?” he inquired, “Like a pyramid type business?”
“No. No, no, no.” Henry was quick to respond. “This is a legitimate business. People are really raking in the souls on this deal. Seriously, you’re lucky to get in on the ground floor.”
“Well,” the demon continues,” What happens to the other 60% of your soul?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, if I get 10% and you keep 30%, then that leaves 60% more soul.”
“Yes, I see. Well, 30% goes to my GetaSoul mentor, y’know, the guy who signed me up. Then, of course GetaSoul takes their measly 10% of my soul and every other soul I sign up. Plus 10% of your souls and a starting cost of half of whatever souls you have on you now. Then it’s pretty much like free souls.”
“That doesn’t seem to make sense, though,” the demon argues, “It’s all very confusing, and I’m not sure the math adds up.”
Henry opens the pamphlet. “No. It’s simple,” he says, “Just look here at this pyramid-shaped info graphic. It couldn’t be easier.”
Henry is clearly getting aggravated. The demon has a bad feeling, but he’d really hate to miss this opportunity.
“Do you mind if I talk this over with my wife?” the demon asks.
Henry, feeling defeated, sighs audibly and hands the demon a business card.
*Henry G. Biggles, GetaSoul Management Leader and Specialist, Entrepreneur*
“Think it over. When you’re ready to change your life, call me. We’ll go out for waffles.” | "You want whaaaaaaat?!" Fe'na was never taken for such a loop in her life. "I mean really I don't get this. Why would anyone want this?" She look at the man who sat down and negotiated business with her. "I don't think I'm asking to much. Its a win-win benefit for both of us."
The demon looked over the contract carefully reading the text again. "So you offer me 10% of your souls in exhange for the souls of your family and return of the ten percent of the soul that I have once you've gather me 10,000 souls in exhange for 10 acres of my kingdom in hell and a Dukedom." Fe'na look over the wording and saw that it was a pennies on the dollar deal for her.
"I don't get it. Why sell out your own kind? How will you even get the souls." The man smile and stood up to open his brief case, "If you look over the paper work. I've never broken a sin of the lord till now and my family is clean of sins through faith of your enemy. My work is that of a lawyer and on the side I am the Sunday school teacher for my church which puts me in prime spots for both pure and corrupt souls."
Fe'na tail wagged in excited before stopping, "I get that but why summon me and why give this up for dukedom?" He smiled and closed his case. "Simple, Ma'am. I spoke with an angel before me and heaven doesn't negotiate. If I can't save everyone then I have to look out for myself and my family."
"Its a deal." Fe'na said before writing on the contract and the man smiled. "Thank you." The man snapped his fingers and a larger demon stood behind him. "I told you I could do it, Lord Satan." He nodded and chuckled, "You win. Fe'na you lose, did you not smell the two type of ink on the sheet?" She looks at the red paper and with a more careful glance noticed that there was a stipulation that if she agreed to the deal she would offer her soul to the human. "You tricked me." Satan smiled, "More like he tricked us all. I bet 10% of hell that he couldn't trick one of my top Demoness into giving up her own soul. Enjoy being a maid you silly worm. I've got better thing to do." The man smiled as Fe'na demonic power flowed into him. | 2014-05-15T20:53:13 | 2014-05-15T18:07:44 | 104 | 68 |
[WP] You’re the commander of the slave portion of the army. Your group is the fodder that softens up the enemy in preparation for the ‘real’ troops. Thing is, however, you’ve become very good at your job and can win most battles before the ‘real’ troops show up. | ***"A spear is thrust for two reasons, first for its reach and so that if its tip should shatter, the injury remains fatal and true. Such is the will and spirit of my army, unyielding in purpose and strength." - The opening words of the Dignata, supposedly written by the The Wolf of Letas, King of All, Taman the First***
They were like a swarm of ants, an immense host of hundreds of thousands, the line of the enemy buckled against its initial weight. Sword tasted flesh and found it sweet, blood had become nectar and the moans of the dying like a salve to the cruel soil below. The front had become a slurry, men slipped and died ignominious deaths, their throats slashed and their plate turned dull with gore. The ground shook as a thousand shattered shields fell, their owners trampled under the weight of the body crush. Horses collapsed, their torsos eviscerated and their riders dragged into masses of angered slaves. Craters created by explosives launched via trebuchet become miniature arenas were men drown never to be seen again. There are no heroes here, no weapons of myth or gods to walk amongst the mangled limbs. Only carnage.
A story as old as time, the forces of the Regency followed the old way of war, utilizing their reserves of slaves as fodder to exhaust their enemies and break them under a golden heel. The men of this cohort, unlike those who would follow them in the regular army, were armed with nothing but crudely made spears and aged pieces of leather and cloth. The life expectancy of these souls once they were cast into the storm of battle for the most part ranged in mere seconds.
When I had been taken from my parents and forced into the ranks I had witnessed the effects of such abysmal survival rates, weapons were thrust only halfheartedly, for a man whose life was measured in seconds there was a desire to cut even that time in two. Yet I chose to persevere, to fight, to live. Each time I returned to the slave camp, I brought with me more and more men. With each battle I saw the fire of hope reignited, men still died as is the cost of war, but they died in spite of living rather than dying as was their birthright. The scars I bear led to a legend, that I was Undying, *Uren-aka*, in our native tongue.
Progress was a river and all waters led to this moment, this test of how far the spear will go for its hand.
My sword comes down towards a slit in the regal plate of my opponent, like the Regency this man opposes, he is a slaver. For a moment I recognize the futility and in the next the man is dead and his body is lost to the sea of soil. My muscles scream, red hot in agony as I push it further than it can go, another man attempts to push me to the ground but he cannot see my dagger as it plunges into his leg. He screams and as I smash his helm, I can see that he is afraid. I have seen so many faces like his in my nightmares, younger even, howling for a life I could not give them. As I raise my bloodied fist, a signal is given through horns and heraldry for the ruse to be sprung. Masses of my men break their crude formations and begin to jump over the first, second and third lines of the enemy now, like I have taught them, their mobility is their greatest asset and with it there is nothing ahead besides victory. This is the *Grat-aka,* the dance of our ancestors, to swirl and meld with the enemy until he can no longer resist. The battle begins to slow as the enemy routs, their plate is far too heavy and fatigue sets in like a virulent plague. What was once a crush of war like in the days when heroes took the field, had become a marble of nimble daggers ending the lives of knightly men.
The slaughter continues until the cacophony of battle is replaced with the harsh guttural death rasps of yet another legion broken by our hand. Before me, laying in a pool of his own blood and shit, the bastard king drops his native tongue and opts to curse me in the tongue of divinity made manifest, with the dulcet and silk tone of the Regency. The spear of one of my men lances his side and in moments his rule is ended and noble silk is torn into a simple raw gargle.
As the dual suns of Agen and Oden dipped beyond view, like children called home, the High King's angels bearing golden wreathes upon their heads and clad in gilded plate arrived, their faces attempting to retain some horrific parody of a distant word, honor. These men were young, untarnished, they were like amber misplaced on a bed of rust. Officers of the regular army, their swords glistened despite the total absence of light. They knew nothing of war, they only knew it by its smell, the irresistible fragrance of glory that they had been raised to chase no matter the cost. The first of them to speak circled around me like a carrion bird.
"You have delivered us Letas and for that your master is most proud, but be warned whelp, your place is still far beneath even the lowliest of my retinue."
Others among them spoke but I could not hear them, I could not bear their platitudes and their admonishments or see anything besides their hidden fury at a prize snubbed once again. Surely they would send assassins after me but that had ceased to be relevant upon this field. I had proven to my men that angels could be beaten, that we were like our ancestors who lived and died continually tested by wild mountains and vast tundra. None of our number would ever return home but an unflinching blood flows in our veins and pounds in our hearts. In the night the bards would whisper of our own secret histories, of victories and triumphs by our hands in distant territories. This they would swear by the moonlight, that those back home may add their voices and carry us back to them.
Even if our purpose were to shatter in open combat, we would make them bleed and if angels could bleed, they could be killed.
I smiled and for the first time in decades, it was *true*. | Ophatius looked out across the ranks of men in front of him, the Wretched Men that they were. They had many names, the Forgotten. The Downtrodden. Slaves.
They, like the other armies of slaves, were meant to die in the coming battle. They were to be lead by Ophatius, who, along with the myriad other Slavelords, was tasked with weakening the enemy front. It was a tactic the Vornash were known for- accruing slaves after victory, only to turn those slaves against their own people. Forcing the assaulted to defend against an army of their own- forcing their enemies to kill their brothers, sons, and neighbors. It was a cruel and effective strategy, and it worked. The Vornash hadn't lost a major battle in the better part of five decades. They said the End was in sight.
"Ready, men," commanded Ophatius. Phate the Impaler, they called him. His tongue wetted his lips. He was ready to spill Their blood.
"N...no." The protest came from behind Ophatius. He turned to face the voice. "I refuse. I won't do it. I won't attack them- I won't attack my own... You can't make me do it."
Ophatius regarded the man who spoke out- he was of unremarkable visage. He appeared in his middling years, greying hairs on his temples, and crooked wrinkles across his face, a sign of too much sun exposure in his life. He reminded Ophatius of the Workbosses he used to loath- the men who would bark incessant orders at him and punish him for his tardiness.
Ophatius took a step towards him, eyes penetrating the man. Staring him down. It was moments like these that defined a Slavelord's success. And Ophatius was a successful Slavelord.
The man, to his credit, held his ground. He met Ophatius's gaze, though he wavered. "What is your name, Slave?"
"Ti Juron."
The hit came too fast for Ti Juron to react to. The man hadn't even been able to flinch before he was falling to his knees, blood pouring from his back as his flesh was opened like a canyon across his spine. He wailed. A horrible sound.
Ophatius pulled back his Firewhip, letting the tip hit the ground with a *thump*.
Though it could emit a field of super-condensed plasma, melting through anything it hit and spreading fire to nearby materials, the Whip would serve just fine in its mundane form for now.
"I ask again. What is your name?"
As the question lingered in the air, Ti Juron's screaming slowly subsided. In moments, his sounds of pain receded into pained whimpers, his hunched form shaking with the rhythm of the occasional suppressed sob. "Why must I say it?"
Most Slavelord's would use the Whip again. They would ignite it- and leave the man immolated where he lay- letting his dying screams fill the deck. Or, they would activate the Chains, the detonatable shackles that Slaves wore that compelled them to obedience. But Ophatius did not outfit his Slaves with the Chains. They slowed them down on the battlefield.
"I asked you your name."
"My name is Ti-" Ophatius raised his arm, opening his palm toward the man. In it, a silver screen could be seen. As the man looked into it, the face of a woman formed.
Ti Juron looked at the woman's face, his eyes weary. "I am a Wretched Man."
"And what does a Wretched Man do?"
"A Wretched Man fights for his Lord, so that he might earn His Grace"
"Yes. And what is My Grace?"
Ti Juron's voice caught in his throat, he choked back a sob. "If... if a Wretched Man fights well, his family will be turned into Wretched Ones, so that he might fight by their side.."
"And if he doesn't?" Ophatius wasn't even trying to hide his smile.
"And if he doesn't... his family will.."
"Say it."
"His family will be given to the Lord. So that he may do with them as he pleases." The last words were difficult for Ti Juron to say. His neck strained with the exertion of speaking them into existence.
And there it was, laid bare for the entire cohort to hear. The reminder for why the Slaves of Horde-Kishad XII were always the fiercest fighters, why they never deserted, as the threat of death and torture could only motivate men so far.
Ophatius returned his Whip into his trousers, the tip slinking in slowly, like a slywach into its cave. His fellow Slavelord's had always ridiculed him for his methods- it was "less effective on the battlefield" they would say. They wanted him to attach the Whip to his palm as was customary. And yet, Ophatius only had two more battles to win before he was allowed to join the Vornash as an Included, nearly as good as a Trueborn themselves. No other Slavelord was even within a dozen victories of such a prestige. But Ophatius didn't care for that. Even when the Vornashian Commander would present him with the Rivith, -the symbol of freedom- he would maintain his station as Slavelord.
Ophatius had hated his old life. He was tired of being beholden to those who were weak. He was tired of being a nobody. Here, Ophatius was a Slavelord. Here, Ophatius was truly Free. And he would make them all pay. | 2021-11-20T21:55:20 | 2021-11-20T21:23:33 | 143 | 11 |
[WP] Your village is being overrun by dragons. Hordes of tiny, adorable dragons. | “Would you rather contend with one dragon-sized duck, or forty duck-sized dragons?” The hooded stranger asked.
“Ah, the classic rhetorical dilemma,” I replied. “I’ve always held that I’d rather face many small things than one large thing—sounds more adorable, anyway. So, forty duck-sized dragons is my answer.”
“Who said anything about rhetorical?” The stranger asked and then disappeared in a puff of smoke.
“What a strange encounter,” I said and turned back toward the village.
It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky, and I had finished my work. On my walk back to the village, I soon began to hear a steady hum, growing ever-louder. It did not take long for me to realize what I was hearing: the beating of wings. I turned my head away from town and then I saw it: a hoard heading right for me. I myself would not have believed that these were anything other than ducks but for the flame I saw emanating from the dragons leading the way.
I did not hesitate. I put my head down and sprint into town to warn everyone of the impending danger. But I am not nimble, nor am I quick enough to outrun a dragon in flight, no matter its size. The dragon hoard beat me into town by the span of a few minutes. How much damage could they have possibly done in a few minutes?
Well, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I had imagined. Visions of scorched earth and cremains played in my head as I came to the entrance of town. To my surprise, not a single building had burnt. Instead, what I saw was more nuisance than disaster.
I came upon a green dragon with a necklace in its grasp spinning in the air and giving small spurts of flame as a middle-aged woman gave chase. I saw two dragons—one blue with ride spikes down its back, the other red with black wings—wrestling over an overturned donation bucket, the owner of which was trying to shoo away the adorable little things with his bell. I then stumbled into a young girl, my neighbor’s daughter, who was crying because a dragon had stolen her dolly. I would later find this dragon curled up underneath my porch, the doll tucked under his teal wing, sleeping in a pile of colorful glass beads he had gathered from my backyard fireplace. I took comfort in one thing: at least they were adorable.
As far as I could tell, these dragons were doing what dragons do: collect treasure. However, they were not destroying the town in order to take our gold or fine jewelry, it appeared their ambitions matched their diminutive stature. They sought small treasures.
I soon learned that, just as I had a teal-colored house guest, each house in my village had a dragon sleeping underneath, protecting their new-found wealth. My neighbors were worried.
“What if the dragons light our homes on fire?” Asked one neighbor.
“How are we supposed to have such a volatile creature living underneath our wood-framed homes?” Asked another.
“How are we to get rid of them? Do we hire tiny heroes to slay them?” Said an asshole.
“No, you’re all thinking of this the wrong way,” I finally spoke up. “These dragons mean us no harm. Clearly. If they wanted to burn down our homes they would have done so already. I’ve noticed, as I’m sure you all have, that they are content with small treasures. Well, here’s my suggestion: each home with a dragon nesting underneath must take that dragon as a pet. Offer it food, small coins, bolts, screws—whatever you have lying around to spare and make it know the small treasure of kindness.”
There was some murmuring in the crowd, a town full of skeptics. But none could refute that these dragons had done us no harm. So, the village enacted my plan. Soon it came to be that our village lived in harmony: small dragon among small-towner. Folks would take their dragons for walks, feed them chicken nuggets, and provide for their dragons the small pleasures of shiny delights. I came to name my teal-buddy Cass and developed a playful relationship with the adorable little guy.
One day, Cass and I were walking on the outskirts of town—the same place where I first encountered the hooded stranger. As we approached the village, again I heard a noise which at first I could not place. The noise hit a crescendo and became a recognizable and booming “QUACK!” Cass and I turned to see a shining emerald head crest the horizon.
The dragon-sized duck was waddling toward town.
\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you enjoyed this, please check out r/IML_42 for more stories! | “Lord Cunningham, the latest report on this season’s crop yield,” said Quinn, rocking slightly back and forth on his feet as he waited for the burgomaster seated at his mahogany desk to acknowledge his words.
“Mmm, go on,” replied Cunningham, refusing to even glance at the other man standing at the doorway as he continued petting the melon-sized dragon in his hands.
“Well, milord, I’m afraid we’ve come up woefully short of our expected yield for this year. Combined with the influx of infant dragons into Bexley three months prior, our food stores will be hard-pressed to last through the winter. With your approval, we can draw funds from the treasury and purchase enough supplies from the bazaars of Stanmore to allay this situation.”
“Mm-hmm. Sure, sure,” muttered the burgomaster as his corpulent hands pawed at the tiny red dragon’s head and body.
“Milor-”
“Who’s a good little dragon? Who’s a good little dragon? You are, my dear little Lyra! Yes, you are, my dear,” continued Cunningham in an infantile tone as he kissed the dragon’s miniscule head with his puffy lips.
A *craw* sound escaped the tiny red dragon’s mouth as it nuzzled the burgomaster’s chest, eliciting a pleased gasp from the portly man.
“*Lord Cunningham*,” interrupted Quinn with a steely edge in his words.
The other man heavily sighed. “What, Quinn? I heard you the first time, do whatever you want.”
“Milord, there was something else I wished to speak with you about. These dragons that have wandered into our village, I believe they are the root cause of our food shortages.”
Cunningham stopped petting the dragon in his hands, but his eyes remained fixated upon the diminutive creature.
“Milord, I rarely leave my quarters unless it is to attend to your affairs. But even when I stare out the window of my office, I can plainly see how these creatures have so thoroughly enthralled the people of Bexley. Men abandoning their plows to frolick in the fields with their personal dragons. Women disregarding their domestic duties and caring for these winged creatures as if they were their own children. And let us not disregard the voracious appetite these dragons have despite their infancy. Milord, I understand you have grown closely attached to the creature in your hands. However, it is this humble servant’s recommendation that we rid ourselves of these dragons immediately, if only to ensure the continued survival of the people of Bex-”
“HAVE YOU GONE MAD?” bellowed Cunningham as he stormed to his feet, flecks of spittle flying across the room. Quinn’s words died in his throat as the burgomaster spat, “No one will take my little Lyra away from me! NO ONE! And if I were you, Quinn, I would be exceedingly cautious about continuing to suggest otherwise. Get out of my sight. Now.”
“…forgive me, milord,” replied Quinn meekly as he offered a curt bow and closed the door to Cunningham’s office. But as he exhaled deeply and turned in the direction of his own quarters, he stopped dead in his tracks. For standing in the middle of the hallway was a diminutive black dragon, its emerald eyes staring directly at his.
Quinn’s blood ran cold as he found himself unable to break his gaze from the tiny dragon’s eyes, those brilliant green pools that tantalizingly beckoned for him to come closer. He had never seen such luminance before, such fiery brightness that put even the strongest of forest blazes to shame. And as the man felt himself becoming lost in those warm emerald orbs, he could feel his apprehension slipping away and an irresistible urge to caress this creature washing over him. A dark corner in the back of his mind screamed at him that he was forgetting something important, something about food shortages or the like. But Quinn could not bother busying himself with such trivial matters as he gently picked up the black dragon and began cooing to it in an infantile voice.
r/williamk9949 | 2021-01-11T14:02:39 | 2021-01-11T13:33:29 | 42 | 22 |
[WP] While taking a shower you think up the cure for cancer. A month later you figure out how to cure world hunger. The world reveres you and your "showerthoughts", but you know the truth. It's not you thinking up these miracles, it's the shower. | "Did you tell them?"
"I didn't" I replied, leaning against the doorway of the bathroom.
"Good. You did good."
"I can't..I can't keep this up. The medias watching me. The ceremonies are wearing me down. I keep getting questions that I can't even fake the answers to and-"
"Stop"
"I just can't keep doing this," I say as I turn my back. I walk to my bed and sit, letting my head fall into my palms - "I just can't"
"You can and you must."
I reply, 'but I-"
"Shut the fuck up."
I tense at the statement and peer over my fingers.
"You weak little man."
"I."
"You nothing. You are nothing. I am everything. I just ask that you have their eyes on you. Just take their eyes. You have to be kidding me. You take all the credit, all the praise. You have to contribute nothing."
"But the praise is just too much!," I'm standing now.
"The weight of the praise is a small price to pay for the life that you lead. You're mine. You're the microphone I use to shout my will at the world."
I sit back down on the bed, hands in my lap, head down.
"If they knew of me, they'd want to study me. They would poke. They would pry. They would destroy the greatest miracle the world has ever seen. Stop being weak, get your shit together, and be the fucking microphone you are."
My face meets my palms again. In a moment I get up, open the closet door, and decide what I am wearing tonight. | They were suprised when I cured cancer. So suprised they put it under review. They said it was proven to cure, but they need to make sure its safe. So safe they said it will be another 15 years before it can be implemented. I asked why it would take so long, they said it was because it was pushed for review by numerous medical boards. It was only later I learned it was the insurance companies and cancer medical supply corporations lobbying for this. I cured world hunger next, hoping to do some good in this decade. I can't go into detail for legal reasons, but I essentially made traditional food obsolete in the poor regions of the world. As you can imagine the food industry didn't like that. I get death threats on a daily basis. My car exlploded the other day, thank goodness I wasn't in it. We can't prove it was someone from the food industry, but the FBI told me to be careful. They told me this becuase they were trying to interrogate me. They spent hours asking me questions. I guess they couldn't understand how a plumber from Flint Michigan could come up with solutions to world problems. I am not sure myself, but I tend to get these ideas in the shower the past year. I think its the water. | 2017-05-08T17:41:25 | 2017-05-08T17:16:05 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] SETI finally intercepts a signal from an alien world. After translating the language, we discover that this alien race does not yet have space travel capabilities, but what they do have to say chills mankind to the bone. | As similar to Bobcrocket's post this is, I feel the need to post it. I wrote it a few days ago for another prompt, and these are just too similar.
Ours was a message in a bottle, flung into the infinite ocean in an attempt to inform another species that we were lonely. Terribly lonely. It was an innocent enough thing to do, as we were scared and afraid and wanted a companion to walk through the dark with.
Theirs was a memorial. Scarred and pocked, their ovoid cry for remembrance had careened past a distant outpost on one of Jupiter's least remarkable moons. Scrambling to intercept it, speculation raged over what or who had sent it, and why or when it had been made. Few, if any of us, thought that it could carry any other message than a forlorn, "Hello! We're quite lonely, as well. That's all."
They were not lonely. They were beset on all fronts by things of the dark. Gnashing, devouring, fetid things that fed on all that lived. The essence of change and growth, the things that spurred life, were the simple foodstuffs of the horrors that plagued our friends across the deep.
There were many descriptions of their peoples. They were haphazard, foolish, haughty, capable of love and light, driven by a thirst for knowledge and power. All beings capable of thought, it seems, possess the same traits. The most striking similarity, though, was their crushing need for a friend. Much like a scared and lonely man on his deathbed, the Messengers had known that their end would come far before their pleas were heard.
But they had cast their bottles anyways. And inside of those bottles lay the entire history of a thinking race that had long been snuffed out by the antithesis of growth.
The enemy of life itself still lurked the inky void, snaking and oozing between the husks of their carrion worlds.
We are still alone, and the night is darker and deeper than we had ever thought possible. But the memories of the Messengers live on in us, and as we prepare for the eventual encounter with the enemy, we will continue to shout into the darkness, both in warning and in friendship.
| There were two lines of text on the wall. Two lines. Not even a full page. And yet, the researchers had been staring at them for the best part of the night. The harsh fluorescents that lit the small conference room in the back of the SETI research station threw stark shadows across the faces the three men Who had been present when the translation program had finished its decryption of the alien text. Mere hours before, they had been bursting with excitement as their satellite dish pinged in response to nit one, but two incoming transmission bursts. After all, being the first to both receive and translate an alien tongue into intelligible speech was sure to be worth a Nobel, at the very least. Now, they sat in suffocating silence, staring at the two lines of text that spelled the doom of mankind. The first part took most of the simplistic white page tacked to the wall in front of the men. "Flee the dark, flee the devourers, flee the flee the flee can't run can't escape hide can't hide can't fight can't can't can't they are going out the light light light is gone life is gone life is ended world is ended all GONE." That alone had been enough to set the three researchers on edge. They had just finished double checked the origination coordinAtes of the first burst, confirming the validity of the text beyond a doubt, when the second burst had finished decrypting. The first had been disturbing in its madness, the obvious terror in its tone enough to turn the men's stomachs as they finished reading. But the second... The second had sent them beyond terror with its simplicity. "There is no hope left. The stars are going out. We are dead. All is dead. And the dark reigns." | 2014-07-08T21:19:47 | 2014-07-08T19:39:43 | 39 | 14 |
[WP] A group of friends playing Dungeons & Dragons attempt to use the game to subtly stage an intervention for one of the players. | The four friends sat around the large table. Chris, the dungeon master, was one side. Tim, Catherine and Zak sat across from him.
"You find yourselves in a tiny village." he crooned. "It is dark and you are the only people on the street. You are engulfed by a troubled silence. There is a house in ramshackle condition across the street from where you stand. Candles flicker worryingly behind the old wooden shutters. A toxic stench exudes from the house. There is also a path to the North that leads into the wavering forest. What would you like to do?"
Tim, who had a rolled a half orc warrior named Gorggash spoke first "Friends, I think we should head into the wavering forest. In the forest we.."
"No!" Catherine and Zak shouted simultaneously as they shared a nervous glance.
Zak, or Barrymanalow, the groups cleric elaborated "I mean," he stammered "the house is suspicious, is it not? I think we might find demons to fight inside."
"Yes!" agreed Queen Murik, the elven Sorceress "We would be remiss to ignore such a curious establishment. Lucifer himself might wait for us in the buildings bowels."
Tim looked surprised. "I am sure this is a distraction to our quest" he said, as he stuffed a handful of cheetos into his mouth, "but if you are both insistent..."
Chris continued his narrative.
"You walk up to the front of the run down building. You realise its state of disrepair is far worse than you first thought. The door is hanging off the hinge and you notice a new smell emanating from the buildings innards. You approach the door. *knock* *knock* *knock*. There is no answer so Gorggash walks forward and pushes it open. A wave of nausea hits you as you step inside.
The inside of the slum-like house looks somewhat burned out. There are large pots on the stove bubbling fiercely. Bodies lie strewn around the room. They look unconscious but are perhaps dead. You wonder what could have caused such havoc.
You are deeply shocked as you notice the body of a legendary adventurer, Severinus Branson. He is alive but in a stupor! Gorggash kneels down beside him and shakes him gently...
'Am I alive? Is that you Gorggash? Come forward..' he asks, his voice as gentle as a midnight whisper."
".. what's going on guys? Why isn't Barrymanalow treating him" Tim asked, putting down his glass of mountain dew.
"He asked for you.. perhaps it is his last wish that you go on a mighty errand for him." Barrymanalow encouraged.
"Besides" joined in Queen Murik "you have the highest resistance. I think that is the most valuable of all stats". There was a murmur of agreement.
"*sigh*.. Hello brave adventurer, how did you come to be in such a state?" enquired Gorggash
"Severinus Branson began his tale. 'Ah my friend, it is a sad tale or at least a sad ending. How I came to end up in this den of vileness. But alas, now I am here I can never leave! It began after I had slain the Great Groomed Dragon of Ozerath. I had riches, oh such riches! I bought women,I bought drink and I bought friends. But I also bought something far more deadly. Something once I tried I could not ever be without. *Crack cocaine*. And it.."
"For fucks sake guys. It was just a bit of weed. WEED. Holy shit what is wrong with you all. How many times!?" Tim said as he stood up and stormed out of the room in a fury.
"Nice going DM, real subtle" stabbed Catherine.
"Oh I don't know" replied Chris "I think we are really starting to get through to him."
| "Alright, I need to use the restroom." Sam said. Every moment of silence felt strained. Subtly wasn't one of our strong suits. At that moment I wished we had decided not to follow through with our plan.
Ron folded his arms on the table. I cringe expectantly. We had all agreed to do it. "If you spend more than five minutes in there, it's negative five intelligence." He said flatly.
Sam scoffed, "I just have to piss."
"Sure. That doesn't take five minutes." Ron replied.
Mary palmed beneath her right eye and avoided making eye contact with Sam who stood over the table, lips tightly pressed together.
"It's the rule." I manage to croak.
"Are you guys fucking serious?" Sam says. We all sit silently for a moment, another painful silence.
"Yeah." Ron finally says. "We are."
"If Mike takes a piss, does he get penalized too?" He asked, pointing towards me.
"You know it's not about the fucking piss, Sam." Ron says, his voice shaking.
Sam licked his lips nodded his head. He wasn't going to say it. He wasn't going to admit it on his own. We all knew what he was going to say. We all knew he didn't think it was a problem. It was just for a little while, to cope. I eyed the empty chair to Sam's left. The empty spot at the table with the full shot of whiskey placed there.
"It's the fucking drugs!" Mary finally blurted, tears streaming down her cheek.
Sam guffawed, "What drugs? So what I did some coke at Danny's party, so did you."
"It's not the coke." Ron said.
"We know you bought shit from Frank." I add.
Sam shook his head.
"Frank sold that same shit to Brendan, I know-" Ron started. I eye the shot of whisky and feel a lump in my throat.
"Don't use Brendan against me, you piece of shit. You don't know anything!" Sam snapped.
I wished we would just play the game. I wished the plan had worked, we thought we'd avoid yelling if we just did it all in the game. It felt pathetic now. But it was too late, we had tipped over the edge.
Sam scoffed again, "I'm gone. Fuck you." He stormed over to the basement door. Ron jumped from the table, Mary screamed. Ron was a big guy, I'd never seen him move so quick. He seemed to be the only one committed to this, the rest of us were too afraid. Ron tackled Sam to the ground, Sam threw a punch that sent Ron's glasses skittering across the basements concrete floor. I stood up, my face was hot but I wasn't sure what to do as Ron and Sam rolled around on the floor.
"Stop! Stop!" Sam finally shouted, unable to push Ron's weight off of him.
Ron got up and knelt, his back to the exit.
"Jesus, Ron." Sam said, then he noticed Ron's missing glasses and bright red cheek. He reached to his left and picked the glasses off the floor and handed them back. "I'm sorry I punched you." He muttered quietly.
"It didn't crit." Ron said.
Sam huffed a laugh, and then started to cry. | 2016-04-08T07:31:27 | 2016-04-08T07:25:25 | 562 | 197 |
[WP] You can go to any fictional universe you want, but aren't allowed to help progress the main plot. | I’ll alter it slightly; the punishment for progressing the plot is death, and I’ll go into my own fictional universe. This’ll be a short one just to pass the time.
When I first entered the universe, I really didn’t know what I was going to do. It seemed pretty boring. All I thought I could do was sit around, and watch the hero save lives. Until I realized something.
It is punishable by death to help progress the main plot, so I decided to hinder it. This ended up being the worst mistake of my life.
It started by setting traps. Things to slow the hero down. But, alas, he got through them with ease. So, I had to be more direct.
I managed to gather minions, to attack him for me. This proved to work well at first, until he pulled out a freaking gun like a mad man and blasted them to pieces.
There was only one option left, I had to do this myself. I was obsessed at this point. I **would** kill him. I got various guns of my own, and confronted him. However, I was untrained, and soon was riddled with bullet holes. Thats when I realized; I had become the villain. I had progressed the plot by filling a role, and paid the price of breaking the one rule. | The Stargate activated, and my team went through. SG17s mission was follow on research after a site has been deemed safe, usually after Dr. Jackson had made some new discovery about the Alterans. Others on my team complained that we never saw action. I couldnt tell the truth. I'm not aloud to "spoil the plot". I do my research, I provide background knowledge to how ancient tech works and I contribute to the science that informs Carters brilliant plans. Today though is my toughest day. I have to watch Jack and Teal'c repeat the same day over and over again. I could give them the solution to their problem, but the moment I do is the moment i get kicked out of this universe. Oh well watching Teal'c get smacked in the face every reset is still funny. | 2018-06-16T13:22:03 | 2018-06-16T11:36:21 | 85 | 37 |
[WP] There is a woman who is a human 'Phoenix'. She dies in labour and is reborn as her own child. | She hated starting over again.
That was always the worst part. Over and over again, she’d have to claw her way up and out of the pits of childhood and past the miserable peaks and valleys of teenagehood to reach the point where she could be assured of both a reasonable adulthood and an equally reasonable childhood - all over again.
She knew what was waiting for her at the end: the tears, the misery, the husband (this time, at least) left with a child he wanted once but no longer. Most stood up admirably in the face of the tragedy.
Not all did.
And if death could have taken her any other way, she’s certain it would have. But it couldn’t - or simply wouldn’t - and she was left to survive in the face of the impossible. She was a miracle child a hundred times over; a marvel, a wonder, a one-in-a-million chance. In her youth, she was always a prodigy, precocious, perfect.
And were it not for the hormonal highs and lows of those wretched years of puberty (those were the worst), she might have been everything they expected of such a child. She came close. She always came close - but she could never quite drive back the madness that the rolling tides of mood and misery that came with her teenage years. Those were the years when the nightmares would threaten to drown her, the years when only darkness reigned and she was left to flounder for the light.
Adulthood was always easier. And it had been getting easier for some time - at first, her body was hardly a thing worthy of note but, through careful selection of her partners, she-as-her-daughter improved in appearance. This trait and that were kept; the others discarded or changed. She had gone, through meticulous management, from short and dun-haired and brown-eyed to tall and black-haired and gray-eyed. Dusky skin made way for porcelain pallor; a thick physique swapped out for something lean and athletic.
It made it easier - much easier - to find the right kind of man, the kind of man that wanted a child and would rear it when she-as-she-was had passed. The kind of man who could ensure that she-as-her-daughter would have a superior life.
The kind of man that would serve as a stepping stone to something greater.
She couldn’t remember how the curse came to be - not precisely. She remembered only the bronze bull, the fire, the screams. The hunger of Moloch
(but where did that name come from and why?)
and then nothing.
She would remember the fire, the flutes, the drums, the crying; she would remember the smell of burnt flesh and hair. She would remember all of it in those moments before the birth; she would feel it all over again. And then it would be over and she would be herself again.
Did her mother damn her? Did she damn herself?
It hardly mattered now.
She looked around her richly appointed room, rested a hand on her swollen stomach, and sighed.
One more month and she would be Gehenna. | The doctor's words hit me with an almost physical impact. I feel like I'm sinking into the stiff examination table, my hospital gown suddenly as heavy as a sheet of lead. "No. No, that can't be right."
"I know it's shocking, but I can assure you that it's true," the doctor says, turning the ultrasound monitor to face me. It's not the first time I've had an ultrasound, so I know how to recognize the shapes. And there's no way to deny that there are two distinct shapes etched in the blurry black and white. "You're expecting twins. Congratulations."
I stare at the monitor, feeling my pulse pound. Twins. I've never had twins before. Not in all of my lives. I feel myself falling off the familiar path I've walked for so long, and into unknown territory.
Twins. Oh god.
----
This time, my name is Louise. I am forty-seven years old, and also seven hundred thirty two years old. I am a simple woman with a simple lifestyle, keeping to myself in a house I inherited from myself, who inherited from myself before her and myself before her. Confused yet?
I was first born, completely normally, in France during the reign of King Philip the III. When I was sixteen, I had a bit of a roll in the hay with a soldier who had sworn to take me as his wife. I, being young and naive, had believed him. Nine months later, I died in childbirth, and gave birth to myself.
As can be imagined, I was confused beyond belief.
Despite lifetimes of research, I've never been able to discover how or why I am able to resurrect in such a strange manner. I quickly discovered the 'rules', as they were. I only ever gave birth to daughters. My 'soul', it could be said, always transfers at the moment the umbilical cord is cut. At the same moment, the me who is the mother dies, and I spend an annoyingly long period with an adult mind in an infant body. A body with undeveloped muscles, and little to no bowel control. 'Irritating' doesn't even begin to describe it.
And so, I've passed through the centuries like this. Mother to daughter, mother to daughter, on and on, living dozens of lives and thinking I had it all figured out.
And now, this. Twins. I've never *had* twins before.
---
Check out my [blog](http://theballadsofirving.com/), or my brand-new subreddit, /r/theballadsofirving! | 2016-01-25T10:01:04 | 2016-01-25T09:46:57 | 342 | 151 |
[WP]Your rival Arthur has gone far ever since he got ahold of Excalibur. You however, have been handed an assault rifle by a time traveler. | Arthur. In all his glory. In all his might. A hero they preached, from the depths this poor poor child rose as the rightful heir to the throne. And now look at him, King of Camelot and commander of the the Knights of the round table. He forgets about me. I got him there, me! Yet here I am stuck in a crumbling cell in this rotten dungeon, all for what? An 'Assassination' attempt? I wouldn't personally call it assassination, I'd call it repaying a favour to an old comrade.
"Psst!" I jump, hands balled into a fist ready for a confrontation. But I see nothing. Again I hear it, "Psst! Come here!" I walk over to the corner of my cell to find a little piece of glowing metal. '*One notification from the Rebecca'* Notification? "Uhh listen bud," the metal begins to speak. "You might want to take a step back!"
A hole opens in the floor where the metal device was, swirls of purple, orange and blue float around in the mysterious void, I walk over to investigate further as a guy flies out and the rift closes. "Hey I'm Karl." He puts his hand out in a fist, I interpret that he is ready for a fight and begin to rush at him but he flicks out a large metal weapon of some sort and I stop. "Chill man, I'm here to help. Don't worry." He had some form of accent unheard of, it was soft and nice yet straight to the point. He takes out the weapon and throws it on the floor. "You might need this one, kachow!" And in a flash the rift was open and he'd fallen back into it. I pick up the metal pole from the floor and inspect it, a metal barrel? J shaped, metal thingy with a what? I flick a button and a loud bang explodes from the barrel, as I drop the thing. This gives me an idea. | He beat me to it Arthur did. He got his hands on the most deadly weapon of them all.... Excalibur. Here i sit drunk off my backside in the local tavern. I might just have something better, this wizard he speaks to me of the AK47. A mystical weapon of sorts he called it. A sort of automatic slingshot that fires projectiles through the air that can even pierce armour. I see him walk into the tavern. I know its him as he wears what he calls the suit. This is no suit of armour though this is a strange black and white garment. I walk past him and drop the pouch of gold at his feet and i take the weapon from the seat next to him its wrapped up in a burlap sack.
It has been three weeks since i received this weapon and i currently stand 20 yards from Arthur Excalibur gleaming by his side. We organised this to be to the death and i smile as i unravel my new weapon. "What's that?" i hear him ask but I do not reply. I lift it up and look through the attached seeing glass, Arthur charges at me. I do not know how to operate this weapon...is this some form of trickery! Arthur is getting ready to swipe his sword through me, i throw the AK47 at him and.....nothing happens! It is not mystical at all...I was fooled. Arthur sweeps me onto my feet and points Excalibur down at me | 2018-06-27T17:21:04 | 2018-06-27T17:17:30 | 32 | 24 |
[WP] At once, and everywhere, each living person has heard a voice in their head: "Hey! It's me, God. I've noticed there's a lot of confusion, so I've created a website called 'Will I go to hell and why dot com'. Just write your name in the search bar. And don't forget to share, like and subscribe." | ..and why dot com
I woke up after hearing that. It was a very lucid dream. Far more than any other I had. I was plain awake, but decided in grabbing my phone. Just to feel safe and reassure myself that it was a dream.
The webpage started to load and..
"Maximiliam Smith. Heaven."
I stared, unflinching. Was this a joke? But in my quiet room, in the night, nobody was laughing. I did heard a few screams outside my apartment. But the screen called to me. There were two other paragraphs.
"Worked hard and persevered through the tier 1 problem provided by the DD (Divine Department) in his psyche. Saved 3 lifes unawarely. Expected result was suicide due to depression at 20 and a would-be reward at our DRCSS (Divine Rehab Center for Sad Souls). Actual result was hard working to keep his sick mother well and a 7.8 average in empathy towards the ones around him. Potential candidate to work at DD as manager and virtue provider."
I started crying. Fuck. Was this a dream? Fuck. There was another paragraph which I read through foggy eyes.
Your effort was noted. Well done :)
\-G
&#x200B;
Beneath the signature there were a few buttons.
\-Deep detail analysis
\-Statistics
\-What about my friends?
\-Will I see my dog?
\-Contact us
&#x200B;
I let my tears flow.
&#x200B;
Edit - Part2: [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cw3owk/wp\_at\_once\_and\_everywhere\_each\_living\_person\_has/eyacrrx?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cw3owk/wp_at_once_and_everywhere_each_living_person_has/eyacrrx?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) | "Hey! It's me, God. I've noticed there's a lot of confusion, so I've created a website called "willigotohell.god". Just put your name in the search bar. Toodles!"
"What. The. Fuck." The words escaped my mouth.
I was not the only person to react to the bizzare voice.
"Did you hear that?" Another passenger asked.
"Will I go to hell dot com?" The driver responded, uncertain.
I whipped out my phone and typed the address in. My hands trembled as I tapped my name in. After a few moments of "Searching, please stand by!" my heart sank.
"Yep. You're going to hell. Have fun, and try the buffet!" The words blurred as tears welled within my eyes. What had I done to deserve this?
========
Yahweh: LUCIFER!
LucyWucy: Yes?
Yahweh: What did you do?
LucyWucy: Hahahaha!
Yahweh: It's not funny, literally everyone is freaking out!
FishyBoi69: It's a little funny.
Yahweh: Shut up. Do you have any idea how hard it'll be to fix this debacle!?
\-Yahweh has left. "Reason: Me dammit Lucy!"
FishyBoi69: So, about that buffet?
========
Thanks for reading, my very first submission, so please be gentle. | 2019-08-27T09:16:07 | 2019-08-27T09:09:37 | 4,258 | 72 |
[WP] All politicians must wear Nascar like uniforms showing the logos of who is sponsoring their elections. Everyone is shocked when the President of the United States makes a speech wearing a new uniform. It's all blank except for one logo. | Ironically, it was the skill and money brought to bear fighting the new uniform requirements that led to the revelation, or at least the public admission, of their existence. Stranger things, and more ironic things have happened, I suppose. I hope you'll forgive me if I cannot think of any.
The Clinton's fought this the hardest, and in retrospect it's pretty obvious as to why. They had no cover. There was nobody who took the labeling movement seriously, not even after it became law. The billions of dollars worth of appeals and challenges, contributions and threats to all manner of judges and officials would see that. And if that didn't work, of course, there were other ways even less savory. The Clintons knew how to play dirty. This was an open secret. So nobody was surprised they were able to delay and delay and delay the enforcement of this law. Mostly in ways conniving but legal. If you're old enough to remember the whole "what 'is' is" flap, then none of this would surprise you...but it did serve to educate a new generation on exactly how slippery they could be.
In the end it was an ill considered ad lib from an inexperienced attorney in some backwater appeals court in Louisiana that set the whole house of cards tumbling. He was losing and he knew it, and on the spot he started arguing that, basically, how could any one particular entity be said to be a sponsor when most entities were controlled by other entities, which were controlled by even other entities, which were owned by stockholders largely represented by mutual fund managers, and the like, and who's directors and officers sat on the boards of many entities, and so on and so on. That although a check may be written from the nominal account of a particularly named entity, that the true interest could not accurately be represented by a single logo. He even went so far as to state that the forcing of a politican to include the logo of his client, a subsidiary of a subsidiary of a subsidiary of ExxonMobil, would be virtually meaningless as to being useful to voters, as the entity was virtually an unknown brand, and existed as a seperate corporate individual only on paper.
It seemed like a good argument at the time.
But by the time the world had woken up the next morning, lawyers everywhere were receiving subpoenas for records on organizational structure, and depositions of board members. And from there it was just a matter of time. Someone talked to someone else in a restaurant and the conversation was recorded from a nearby table. Someone else was played a recording of their corporate partners planning their assassination. People talked.
As it turned out, the conspiracy theorists had been more right than even they knew. It was "common knowledge" in some circles that only 5 corporations actually existed, owning and controlling all the others beneath them in the ultimate pyramid scheme. It turned out, those 5 were also controlled, by one. The one that people have spoken of for years. The one that has existed since time out of mind. You know them, and you know their logo. You should, at least. Like them, it's been hiding in plain sight for years.
The tip of the pyramid. With the eye.
The night the news broke, Hillary had a heart attack. Or at least, that's what was reported. Some say her masters poisoned her, one small last act from the shadows before being cast into the light. It scarcely mattered. Her final term was nearly over, lame ducked, and the VP had little to do in her stead but to give a eulogy and turn over the keys to the next administration.
And still, the law was the law. Some speculated that she had committed suicide in order to escape it's enforcement, but they were wrong. For as she lied in state in the Capitol rotunda, dressed all in white there was one discontinuity in her otherwise pristine and ghostly attire. A small patch, on her left lapel, of that single all seeing eye atop the pyramid.
And of course, all those in attendance bore the same patch. Of course they did. And in the end, did it matter? Was anyone actually surprised?
(Edit: a spelling) | As the president came to the stand, he was not alone.
Of course, the president can never be alone, always protected by security and followed by advisors and behind them the trusted more-than-a-few. This time, however, the president was followed by just one man. The man had on him a green jacket, white undershirt, and brown slacks. All proper attire, sure, but there was one feature the press for this surprise broadcast wanted to know: Sponsor Logo. As is, the man in green does not have a logo, giving birth to talk among the assembled spectators. Lacking a logo, they turn their attention back to the president, wearing a new windbreaker that would normally be proudly displaying the numerous corporate badges of his supporters, turning the symbol or focal point of American interest in the company for these minutes into a strutting advertising page...
But this new windbreaker does not display the multitude of colored signage normally spotted. Instead, it displays but one symbol, unseen before then. Quick Googling by the reporters and many a political adversary turn up no relevant hits. The computer algorithms have failed them this one time and this shakes them, whether they show it or keep their mask. A short description seems in order, now. Orange or gold or some combination thereof, squared off into a corner at what would be the bottom right of a square, then extending halfway up the sides to turn suddenly into points parallel indicating towards the top-left. Nested between the points, in a pocket by the lower-right, a full circle. After the president makes it to the podium and the collection of individuals quiets, the president speaks.
"I wish to inform the country, and by extension hopefully the world, of a drastic new change about to come. Yes, we are already in the midst of a crisis, and the militaries and countries of the world have joined together wholeheartedly to combat this problem, which originated in this great country of ours."
"However... This new change, this... opportunity... has arisen not from this nation or any nation yet known to this world. I would like to introduce the man beside me to continue," As the said man in green taps them on the shoulder. "Wallace?"
The man identified as one "Wallace" steps up to the podium as the president steps down and heads into the back, whence they came.
"Earth is a beautiful planet, full of opportunities as we all know and is currently in the middle of a crisis. Aliens ply our waters, dig our sands, and are currently waging war on mankind. A war we alone are losing. A war we no longer have to be alone in. I speak as former Administrator for the Black Mesa Compound, where this all began due to the negligence of a few. I have come bearing the answer to our combined problems, not just alien - Overpopulation, starvation, lack of fresh water, the housing crisis - all things we would eventually fall to without help."
"And help I herald, from beyond the stars so recently turned hostile - A union of extraterrestrial beings who have achieved far more than we could ever hope for! And what do they ask of us in return for their help? Nothing more than to join them when we have matured further with their teachings, their guidance. Think! Not only to end this war not but to ascend!"
"Think on that if you will. Remember too that these benefactors may choose to stay their hand if we do not choose soon and annihilate ourselves by our own hand."
"The president wears their symbol. The symbol of the Universal Union."
And what has that brought us? Nearly twenty years of suffering under the iron fist of the Combine with Wallace Breen their willing puppet. What of earth? Well, unless something happens soon, I'm going to lose hope. Well, end of the line. See ya. | 2016-09-19T19:30:21 | 2016-09-19T18:38:45 | 94 | 24 |
[WP] You have been cursed to always tell the truth. Not because you're unable to say something you know is false, but because once you say it, the universe will rearrange itself to make what you said true. | I lost everyone I loved that day...
June 18, 2009. I was playing outside when it started to rain. The rain got very strong... I still refused to go inside our house because I was enjoying playing with the water, splashing around.
Then suddenly, while I was splashing on a puddle...
A loud, thunderous noise started ringing in my head. All I could see was light. Though I was only a child, I somehow headed down in Hell, presumably from repeatedly disobeying my parents and lying, as all stubborn kids do.
Satan appeared before me. He knew that I was young, and somewhat smart. His smug face annoyed me, but I knew I could do nothing else now. I went up to him and I begged him to give me a second chance.
To my surprise, he did. Though, I didn’t know there was a catch. I wake up and I’m back where I am, unscathed. I walk back home, scared it might happen again.
My mom scolds me as soon as I enter the room. My dad joins in too, and my siblings start picking on me. Though no matter what I say, I couldn’t convince them. In my anger, I said the words that I now dread the most...
***I hope you all just disappear!***
Like a speaker being unplugged, the scolding and the teasing suddenly stopped. They weren’t talking anymore. When I looked back at them, they weren’t there.
Don’t deal with the devil. | How does truth run from falsehood when the universe bends and twists with words?
This was a curious existence. Words had seemingly prophetic effect.
I’d witnessed an offhand comment echo into a real life event before, how could I test if my words actually were?
—-
An interesting dichotomy. How does one determine what is true and what is false?
The universe seemed to play games. Not quite a leprechaun, but I had to be careful.
After all, if words had power, didn’t all words have power too? Where did the strength of mine begin and the other end?
How does cause and effect even work in a universe that bends to ones will?
—-
Like looking for ones own shadow with a flashlight, sometimes all one really needed to do is turn out the lights.
—-
How would one check if one were God?
—-
Turn the clock around. Reverse your time thinking, you only see the past in front of you.
Effect and Cause. | 2019-05-29T01:10:28 | 2019-05-28T20:25:48 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] For countless eons, you have maintained an enormous clockwork machine. You have no idea what it's supposed to do, yet you've spent your entire life inside it. You don't know anything about the outside world, so imagine your surprise when a group of strange-looking people find their way inside. | Did I create these? I don't remember doing so. Their design is unlike anything I would normally make, along with the materials used. There is nothing in here made from the same components, I'm sure of it.
I watched the strange machines from high above, as I clung to the wall. Their movements, equipment, nor their coverings made any sense to me. I could find no patterns in their actions, and although they used the same general design, they shared nothing in common between them. I was so mesmerized about what they were I didn't notice what they were doing, until the shortest one reached for a Cithrolol Cog on the wall.
“Wait wait wait! Do not touch that!” I yelled as I skittered down the wall, each footfall landing in the perfect spot to avoid any damage. Eons of practice made these movements automatic for me.“That piece is not entirely delicate, but it is impossible to repair and difficult to recreate.”
Each of the machines turned to face me with their ocular components fully uncovered, perhaps to get a full view of me as I towered over them. They hurried close to each other as the largest of the three drew a large sword. I recognized the defense posture, as I had created soldiers for mock battles long ago to help relieve my boredom. The use of a sword was a mystery, surely it calculated that the sword would be completely ineffective.
“What is that thing?!” the long haired one shouted as it drew its own sword to join the largest one.
“Do you mean the cog, or me?” I answered and pointed to the Cithrolol Cog and myself.
“Did the giant mechanical spider just talk?” The short one asked.
“What is a spider?” I asked after I calculated it was referring to me.
“You!” It answered.
I've never been refereed to as that. In fact the only thing anything has called me was creator. Do these machines have knowledge I do not posses? Is that possible?
“I have never seen anything like you three here. What kind of machine are you?” I asked
“Machine?” The largest very quietly questioned. Perhaps it was having trouble with its speech device.
“Yes, machine. Just like every other being I have created here.” I said as I lowered my body closer to the ground to better hear the machine. The three took a few steps back. “I do not recognize you as anything I normally create, could you please recount when I made you.” I asked
“Should we say we're machines or tell the truth?” The smallest one said very, very quietly. I stayed back as my hearing device tuned to better collect the sound.
“I don't know. It doesn't seem too hostile, it might know the way to the time master.” the long haired one said.
“Or it could be guarding it. I'll let you talk with it, you're the best at it” the largest one said back to the other.
“Damn it, I hate spiders and you know it.” it said back.
“Just do it.” The smallest one said, as it pushed the long haired on forward.
“Hello um... Mr. spider. We um.. are not machines. We are humans from Galibry, we're searching for the master of this place.”
Humans? Galibry? Never heard of either of these.
I looked to the floor in front of the human and projected a map of my world onto the floor. The human jumped back as it stared at the projection.
“Please indicate where Galibry is on the map.” I asked
“Galibry is not on this map.” it responded after a moment.
“This is map of the entirety of Basce. It would be illogical for Galibry to not be located on this map.”
“Were not from Basce.” the largest on said as it moved next to the long haired one.
Not from Basce? That is illogical, but so are they. They call themselves humans, and are made from things I have never encountered. Perhaps illogic is logic in this case? Then it would be true that they come from outside Basce.
“Interesting. A world outside of my own.” I said out loud. “What do you know of this place, and why did you want to meet with me?”
“You're the master of this world?!” The short one shouted.
“Indeed. I've destroyed and rebuilt this world, learned how to create an operate every device, and explored every measurable area over the eons. There is nothing else here that could hold that title.”
“Great! Can you do us a favor? We need you to roll back time in Galibry so we can defeat a demon before it can get ultimate power.” The shortest one asked with a smile.
I stared at it for a moment as I processed its request. “Where is Galibry, and why would I be able to do that?” I asked
“huh? Galibry is the world we came from. This is the world that controls time, and a bunch of other things in Galibry. Don't you know that?” It asked
“I have never considered the purpose of this world, or the machines within it. I have only followed the blueprints and learned all there is to know here. You say this world exists to control another?”
“um... yeah”
“I believe we have much to discuss than. I would like to learn more about your world, and to learn how exactly it interacts with mine. Would you follow me to place more conducive to conversation.” I asked before turning to lead the way.
“Thanks um... what was your name again?” The short one asked as the three humans hurried after me.
I paused and looked back at them. “I do not have a name, as I never needed one. If you need one to address me by, you may continue to use the one that the long haired one used earlier.”
The other two humans looked to the long haired one, as it tilted its head slightly. “Okay than. Thank you... Mr. Spider.” it said. | I studied them first from a distance, hiding behind the gears and cogs of my machine, flitting in between the darkened corners that my torches' light couldn't touch. The whir and hiss of the machine concealed the sound of my movements, keeping the strange people ignorant of my presence.
"What is this thing?" A high, gentle voice asked.
"It's a machine." A lower voice grumbled.
I came upon the ladder leading to the higher parts of my machine, and I climbed quickly, moving swiftly across the long, metal platforms that connected various parts of the machine. I didn't really need the glowing torches to light my way, as I had this place memorized from top to bottom, but keeping the torches lit made me feel like I wasn't entirely alone. *Fire is life,* someone had once told me, but their face escaped my memories. In fact, a lot of things escaped my memories, like these people down below me. They were like me, at least, they looked like me, but I couldn't recall what they were, or what *I* was. Yet, somehow, I felt deep down that they were different, that they *weren't* like me. But there were two of them and only one of me, so did that make *me* different? I couldn't remember.
"I know it's a machine, dummy." The high voice muttered. "I meant what is it doing?"
"Uh, hissing and turning?" Low voice replied.
*You ignorant fool,* I wanted to snap at him, *you've no idea what you've stumbled upon. My machine does more than just hiss and turn. It... it...* I stopped. What *did* my machine do? I glanced up at the gears, at the pipes that snaked upwards seemingly without end, but my mind was blank. I squeezed my eyes shut and placed the heel of my hand against my forehead, trying to will the answer out from the trenches of my memory. Was it powering something? Was it making something? No, no, no. None of those sounded right.
"Agh! Why can't I *remember?!"* I shouted. My voice ricocheted off the thousands of gears and cogs, echoing off the metal walls until it reached my ears again, and I gasped.
"There's someone up there!" Low voice whispered, but his voice was still clear in my head.
"Hello?" High voice asked politely. "Is someone there?"
I remained like a statue on the platform, a strange feeling buzzing around my body. My heart pounded in my chest, and for whatever reason, the last thing I wanted was for them to see me.
"Go away." I called. "I don't want you in here anymore."
A moment of silence, except for clicking of the machine, and then high voice again. "We're sorry, we didn't mean to trespass. We didn't think anyone was down here."
*Trespass.* I had heard that word before, but where? Who said it to me, and why? What did it mean?!
"We just wanted to know what your machine does." High voice said.
A sudden wave of heat overtook me, and I emerged from the darkness, standing at the edge of the platform in the dim light of the torches.
"I don't know!" I shouted. I placed one hand on the rim of the platform and flung myself off it, landing gracefully next to the strange people. "I don't know! I can't remember! It's lost! It's lost! It's just a machine! It whirs and clicks and turns and hisses and you shouldn't be here!"
The two people looked at me wildly, their mouths turned down and their eyes blown wide. They huddled close to each other and stood far from me.
"You... can't remember?" Low voice asked quietly.
The heat faded from my chest, and my breathing calmed. "Unimportant details. I remember everything I need. I am the Clockwork Master, tasked with guarding and maintaining the Clockwork Machine for all of time."
High voice took a small step forward, and that buzzing whizzed through me again, causing me to take a step back. She tossed a careful glance at low voice, then turned her gentle gaze back to me.
"How long have you been down here... Clockwork Master?" She asked.
The rest of the heat faded away, and I looked up at the Clockwork Machine. I'd seen this view countless times, yet the first time I had ever seen it, I wasn't alone. The Clockwork Master had brought me here when the machine was still young, told me that I was to be its guardian, its companion.
*"You and the machine are as one."* He said. *"Neither of you can live without the other. Always remember that."*
*"How long will I be here?"* I had asked him, taking in my first view of the machine.
*"Until you can be here no longer."* He had replied.
That was the last I had seen of the Clockwork Master. He left me in the presence of his Clockwork Machine, of *my* Clockwork Machine. He left me to its whirring and hissing. The sound breathed music and life in my ears, and I found I never wanted to leave. I could stay here forever. But how long was forever? How long ago had the Clockwork Master said those final words to me? My memory was once again empty.
"I can't remember." | 2019-04-21T08:47:40 | 2019-04-21T08:42:47 | 34 | 14 |
[WP] The 2 warring empires always ignored the merchant city state. It was convenient to have a way to keep luxuries and weapons flowing. Now that the war is over, the victorious empire wants all of that wealth. Except that all of those resources were invested in defences and technology advancement. | I’d dangle my legs over the great palaces wall, looking through my telescope at the Drukian Legions waiting outside our city, the gold and firey red emblems of his majesty the “Imperator” of their empire flying from their banners. I’d sigh as I’d drop off the wall. I’d enter the Chamber of the Merchant Lords, my peers, I’d take my seat at the round table, forged with pure silver, as the base, gold to make the pattern, and the largest diamond in the continent to complete the center.
The argument begins from the second I’d sit, there are two factions fighting over our response to the Imperial blockade, one side, the sea traders, say we can fight, the land traders say we must submit, me and my small faction are neutral. So before this council meeting turns into a repeat of the last month, I’d interrupt.
“How about we ride out to negotiation with this emperor, and if it goes bad, we’d fight?”
Both sides of table turn, look at each other, and shrug, everyone is tired of this, so might aswell give direct negotiation a shot instead of diplomats.
///
I’d ride out on my brown horse, planted with gold, flying the banner of my home Argentia, as the white horse guard and the emperor ride forward to meet me, this emperor is young, handsome, not too bright, looks to spend his time wrestling and fighting, he‘s a military type, not a good diplomat or administrator.
He’d proudly speak up, “It is customary for subjects to bow to their Emperor”
I’d calmly respond, “We have no Emperor, nor will we ever your highness”
He’d narrow his eyes, “Your city will submit to the Drukian Empire by nightfall, or we will sack the city, take your women, enslave your children.”
I’d chuckle, “Lady Savin, lay out our terms for this emperor please.”
The young man in his polished armor reels back, “Why is your servant approaching me!”
”I am not his servant, I am the Lady of Engineering and Sciences in Argentia, I administer the research and development of our state.”
The Emperor scoffs, “Now wonder you savages are so weak, you have given women responsibility in all levels of society.”
Lady Savin responds, “Our opinions make little difference, we have a simple demand, leave our city and resume free trade, and we will hold no grudges.”
Lady Savin nods to me, and I’d trot a bit forward, “Meet these demands and that’s all, I’d hate to have to do something rash, my spies have gotten a decent bit of dirt on you and you captains.
The bumbling excuse for a ruler fumbles his words, then begins to yell, “HOW DARE BOTH OF YOU SPEAK TO ME IN SUCH A WAY, I WILL NOT BACK DOWN, AND HOW DARE YOU THREATEN ME, WHO ARE YOU TO SPEAK TO ME LIKE THIS!?”
I’d calmly answer his question, “Lord Strixus, Lord of Intelligence and information.”
The tall child begins to fume as he tries to come up with a response, I’d take over
”I believe with have nothing left to discuss, Lady Savin, let us ride back, and also signal the batteries”
Lady Savin nods and smiles as we ride off, I’d smile too, thinking about what’s about to happen, Lady Savin takes out a small rod, and ignites it, sending the red sparking flare into the sky. The cannons answer her, as Savins beautiful creations create a symphony of the enemies screams and their powder detonating, the gate opens and our defensive garrison rushes out, firing a loose volley as they run, we’d ride past as the Airships lift into the sky and fire their rotary salvos too, I love my home, and what a fine job Savin has done. | Mahatma Gandi, fresh off the heels of his bloody victory over Montezuma and the former Aztec Empire, stood ready to make war against their little cousin on the bay: the city of Paris, capital and sole province of the minor state of France.
Gandi's forces flowed across the land in a wave of steel, gleaming in the dawn's light as they swarmed to surround Paris. The gates of the city of traders and scientists opened, and the leader of the city Catherine de Medici strode forth boldly to meet Mahatma Gandi at the front of his phalanx.
"Mahatma. An honor it is, to receive your personage on this beautiful morning. Shame you didn't give me more notice, I'm afraid the chefs don't have any pastries ready yet. I assume you are here to discuss our trade agreements?"
Mahatma Gandi spat on Catherine's shoes in disgust. "What need does Glorious India have, at this height of our supremacy, to 'discuss' anything? We have come to take what is ours by divine right.' Gandi scoffed derisively as he eyed Catherine's richly tailored robes. "Besides, we always found your prices unfavorable, anyway."
"Shame. Shame..." Catherine shook her head sadly. "We had hoped this day would not come, had hoped you would see reason and shy away from your bloody path. From the 'heights of supremacy', it would seem comes a very long fall."
Gandi laughed in Catherine's face, spittle spraying across her visage, his eyes crazed and red-streaked as he flung his hand across the armored infantry, lines of cavalry, and siege catapults standing at his back. "Fall? My dear Catherine, I can only go UP from here. To ever greater heights of glory! And all it will cost... is *your* world." Mahatma Gandi's malevolent grin stretched wide enough to split his face. Eyes unblinking, jaw quivering in excitement.
Catherine de Medici sighed once more, and turned her back on Mahatma Gandi and his forces with an idle wave of her hand. "So be it. We are sad that it came to this, old friend. May your next life be a gentler, kinder one." Catherine de Medici glided through the front gate of Paris, and removed a small item from an inner pocket of her robe. "Oppenheimer, this is Catherine. Acquire target, commence launch at your pleasure."
As the gate closed behind his former trade partner, Mahatma Gandi saw a great beast rise up from the depths of her city. It looked like a great eagle, but it roared like a dragon. It flew over his army, and seemed to lay an egg. The egg fell to the earth, a whistling scream piercing the air. When it impacted on the ground, Hell itself was unleashed upon the armies of India.
His soldiers burned instantly to ash, their armor melted and dissipated into vapor in the space of moments. There was no screams, for they died faster than air could leave their lungs. The land was burned, the air boiled away. The light of the egg's infernal hatching blinded out the sun itself.
Catherine, safe behind her city's shielded walls, shook her head sadly. "One must not neglect their pursuit of the sciences, Mahatma." | 2021-09-15T10:50:14 | 2021-09-15T10:31:02 | 65 | 30 |
[WP] You are a part of a cult that believes the end of the world is near. Unlike most doomsday cults your group is made up of ex-scientists who discovered an ancient evil deep within the earth, and found that it was due to awaken in a few weeks time. | >**Abstract:**
>Data collection of seismic activity between active volcanos has been woefully inadequate. Gaps in sensor coverage caused by insufficient techniques and materials used in the construction of sensor networks result in incomplete data sets that require new algorithms simply to extrapolate the missing data. We designed a new framework to more completely detect seismic and volcanic activity, resulting in higher quality data transmission and higher SNR, lower downtime, and an overall more complete concept of what occurs below. Furthermore, we discuss the preliminary findings of the data, the impact it has had on the field of volcanic fluid mechanics, geophysics, and the inevitable end of humanity in a few short weeks.
***
“I *told* you, you’re doing the indices wrong. MATLAB starts with one,” Dr. Pratchett said.
“That’s preposterous,” replied Dr. Piers. “No self-respecting programmer would create a one-indexed language.”
“This isn’t a self-respecting language,” Dr. Pratchett said. “It’s not even really a language. It’s a glorified engineering calculator.”
“Then why are *we* using it?” Dr. Piers asked. “I keep telling you, we should just throw together a Python script.”
“We don’t have that much time!” Dr. Pratchett said. “That Which Consumes the Souls of the Living declared that he has been awakened, and that was *two weeks ago*. If we want to get this thing published and peer-reviewed to warn the world, we need to finish this project *now*.”
Dr. Piers snorted. “You underestimate me, Jerry. I can get a script whipped up before you can even blink.”
“Will you *please* shut up?” I growled. “I need to finish typing out the conclusion and I won’t manage that with you two baboons howling over there.”
Dr. Piers and Dr. Pratchett glanced at each other. “Well, sorry, little miss diva. I didn’t realize *post-docs* were such brats these days.”
I sighed and continued writing.
“Just go back to MATLAB, you idiot!” Dr. Pratchett said. “There’s no way you’ll get your script running correctly in time to get this published!”
“It won’t take that long!” Dr. Piers said. “I only need a few days. A week tops.”
“We don’t *have* a week! If we want to induct humanity into the Cult of the One Which Consumes the Souls of the Living and save One of Twelve of One of Twelve as his Word dictates, we need to *publish*!”
“Yes, but if I get this done in Python then we have a bit more flexibility as to the exact algorithm that is applied to the data! ODE45 is just a lacking tool. I bet if I fiddle with it a bit, we can get an even more accurate time stamp, and I *strongly* suspect that we have more time than we think!”
“No, you dolt, we *don’t!* MATLAB indices start at one!”
“That’s preposterous,” said Dr. Piers. “No self-respecting programmer would start at one.”
“Oh, for...” I sighed. “I hate the both of you. I really do. I hope that neither of you is in the One of Twelve of One of Twelve.”
Dr. Piers glared at me. “And *I* hope that That Which Consumes the Souls of the Living takes CV into consideration when the Final Judgement comes. I can’t imagine that someone who can’t even land an associate professorship would be one of the One of Twelve of One of Twelve.”
I unplugged my laptop and stood. “I”m going to Dr. Harrison’s office,” I growled. “*He* has an espresso machine.”
Piers and Pratchett glared at me. “Hail the One That Consumes. May His long rest never be hungry again,” they said in unison.
“Hail to Him. May our souls please him,” I finished, leaving the office.
***
>**Conclusion:**
>Overwhelming evidence indicates that the data was correctly interpreted. That Which Consumes the Souls of the Living will come. Those who are pure of heart must join the Cult of the One Which Consumes the Souls of the Living and give Him deference so as to be One of Twelve of One of Twelve. This conclusion is supported by Barr et al. whose data analysis framework suggests that the results have a p-value less than 0.0001. Furthermore, it is clear that Henderson et al. were correct about the outcomes of their 2013 experiment and that the existing data sets were incomplete. Extrapolation of that data set did not match our new data, suggesting their conclusion about the inactivity of supervolcanos along fault lines was incorrect. Trang et al. agree, noting that the patterns in ancient sedimentary deposits do not agree with modern predictions. This team recommends that further study of the geological cycle be studied except it is futile. Hail the One That Consumes. May His long rest never be hungry [again](https://reddit.com/r/Badderlocks). | Not even our fellow scientists believed us. Group 504, the ones that went crazy. We were the laughingstock of the academic world, a joke that others would make before exploring some great unknown.
“Don’t come back a 504.”
They would tease, not realizing the horrors they were so readily ignoring, something that despite us being unable to prove, we all knew existed.
Ocean exploration intrigued me as a child, a world of unknown creatures that was far more accessible than the vast emptiness of space. Like the others in the group, I pursued the interest with an insane devotion, missing dates, parties, and funerals to get the grades needed to join such a project.
Group 504, I wore that name with pride when they assigned it, a group of ten up-and-coming scientists, each dedicated to the craft. The people around me felt more like family to me than my actual family. People who shared my love for the sea, a love that we would spend hours on end discussing by the watercooler. It all was going so perfectly until we encountered it.
A blip on our camera, a strange golden mass of flesh bundled into a ball. By our estimates, the creature had to be fifty feet, something we never believed was possible. Moving our camera around the mass, we tried to draw closer, having to stop as our camera bumped into an invisible current, unable to push past it.
No one dared speak when the camera moved, only the odd gasp of awe being present. The mass of flesh vibrating, in some form of stasis or perhaps sleep? As we zoomed in on the flesh, the slick skin peeled open, an eyeball popping free, staring at us through the camera, that’s when we received the warning.
It said no words, only flashing images of a great flood in our mind, humans being torn apart by the razor-sharp waves. Buildings collapsing onto people and the god-awful screams of those fleeing the destruction. With the horrific sight revealed to us, another few images flashed. These revealing pollution and weaponry, a sign we interpreted as a warning to stop our corrupt ways or face extinction.
When we all awoke from our trance, we would find blood on our clothing. Some having bloody noses while others had it coming from their eyes or mouth. Whatever it was, had left its mark on us. Turning our attention to the screen once more, we would find our footage corrupted, our camera having no memory of the past encounter, only showing footage of a friendly jellyfish bumping into it.
We tried to warn everyone, but no one believed us. At first, they thought it was a cleverly crafted joke by the new group of scientists, commending us on trying to trick the older heads at the facility. However, with each passing day they became concerned about our obsession, unable to work anymore, instead we devoted our time to decorating our office, trying to show the creature we were listening.
When word spread about our odd decorations, our paintings, and strange golden symbols on the wall, we were fired. Told there was no evidence of such a finding and that we were all insane.
We were insane? They were the insane ones, killing and polluting while that creature laid in waiting, preparing to come and eradicate us. It was maddening, having to rely on each other for consoling.
That was the beginning of the cult, as they would call it. Group 504. A group, not a cult. Dedicated to preserving humanity by ending our wicked ways. No wonder we were the laughingstock of the world. If anyone followed our demands, the rich would lose their massive profits. No one willing to risk losing profits, even at the cost of their lives.
I think we all knew our efforts were for nothing. We were smart enough to realize that. Still, we were more than willing to make our last weeks of life torturous in the small hope that the creature might acknowledge us. Hoping that the creature would notice our efforts and give us more time. The chance of that happening seemed slim, though. Our group not growing in any shape or form.
We had media attention and the occasional visitor, but none came to us for the right reasons. Both interested in us becoming their next content, seeing us as a Freakshow to be gawked at. I just hope when the day comes, humanity knows we tried to save them, even if only for a split moment before our deaths.
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-04-27T07:34:48 | 2021-04-27T06:03:23 | 159 | 115 |
[WP] You capture a Genie, and have infinite wishes. However, you have to be unrealistically specific with every wish, because the genie uses your wishes to try to kill you. | “I must warn you. Your wishes come with certain… unforeseen consequences.”
Staring at the ceiling, Doris pursed her lips in thought. “What sort of consequences?”
“Look,” the genie continued, “you seem like a pleasant being, and it looks like you haven’t got many years left, so I won’t beat around the bush. Whatever you wish, I will twist the circumstances, misunderstand any subtext, and avoid allowing you to keep any intended gain from said wish as much as I can manage without violating the literal statement of your wish. This will likely cause you harm, and possibly death.”
Doris turned her head and looked him in the eyes with a blank stare. “Well, I’m sure my wish won’t give you too much trouble, then. I wish I were dead”
“Beg your pardon?” the genie asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Do I look comfortable to you?” Doris asked. “Do you see these needles and tubes under my skin? These thin-as-shit sheets-*only the best my Medicare can afford*? I’ve asked my doctor, these nurses, and even my son to just put an end to this already. Doctors won’t, cause they said it ain’t legal. And my son won’t, because he’s got too goddamn much love for his old lady. Suppose I can’t really blame him for that. In a way, I suppose he’s brought me my sweet salvation in that flower vase you so rudely burst open. Never expected my salvation would be a 7 foot blue mutant. Any case, you might as well get it over with.” She closed her eyes.
“That’s… not really how this works. My purpose is to serve as the prick from the rose of human greed. To remind people that everything comes at a cost. I can’t just kill you in cold blood. Surely there must be something else you want? I could cure your ailment? Leave you with untold wealth to pass to your children? Give you a last shot in the limelight? Is there something you’ve always aspired to do, but never gotten the chance?”
“I never spoiled my kids and I’m sure not going to start now. Look, my husband passed 4 years back, and all I want to do now is be with him. And give him a piece of my mind for leaving me all alone like this. Can you kill me or not?”
“I’m afraid one of the few rules of wishes is that I can’t grant a direct wish to kill someone. Yourself included. Is there anything else you can think you wish for?”
“I wish you’d get the hell out of my hospital room”
| Come on! Just when things seem great, there's a catch! I put the scroll down next to the lamp. It said stuff about dying and unlimited wishes... I decide to ignore it. For once, something good should be true! I rub the lamp and wait for a few seconds.
The cave is silent, and I'm getting colder by the second. If that genie won't show up, I'll have to find another way out. And a source of heat. A faint gray colored mist appears, slowly making its way out of the lamp.
"Ah, a mortal. Since you've released me, I'm bound to serve you. What are your wishes?" The genie takes on a smoky form, all gray, and it seems like he only took the time to create arms and a head for himself.
"Yeah.. You serve me! Uh... My first wish is for you to take me out of this cave!" I smile, then remember the warnings. If they were true, I couldn't risk it. Just as the genie is about to speak, I add in "And bring me out alive, unharmed!" The genie frowns at this, then I slip through the ground and before I know it, I'm on top of a skyscraper, overlooking a city.
"Are you satisfied?" He asks, and I get up from the floor. I fell over as soon as we arrived, and now I try to stand still, still not used to teleporting.
"Of course not! You're trying to kill me! Take me to my house now, alive, sitting on the couch, with no danger! Whatsoever!" He smiles this time, and I know something's wrong.
As soon as I materialize at home, I look around, and notice I left the lamp at the skyscraper. And the genie isn't here, which must mean I need the lamp to control him... At least I'm at home. I stand up, or try to, because I'm trapped, with secure metal bars keeping me stuck. My TV is in front of me. And on it, is... No. No! I'm going to be stuck here watching this?!
"SOMEONE! HELP!" I yell, but no one can hear me. I'm stuck, doomed to die watching endless videos with click bait titles on YouTube.... | 2017-01-11T17:34:56 | 2017-01-11T14:03:21 | 28 | 11 |
[WP] When the captain saw that you were human, he accepted you immediately as a member of his crew. Unfortunately, the captain's understanding of humans quickly turns out to be distinctly...off.
EDIT - Wow, didn't think this would be anywhere near as popular as it turned out. Thanks for the responses, all! | I closed my eyes for just a moment, letting the water wash over my head. When I opened them again, there he was. Captain Dreyfar of the Quasar-class ship Haygrum's Folly, watching me from outside the shower stall in the midshipman's washroom. He was wearing what I assume to be a leotard, bright red, definitely not standard issue. It clung to his carapace tightly, as if to show off every hard nub.
And... Heels. Platform stilettos, raising him another 5 inches taller than me. He looked ridiculous.
"I see you don't have a lifeguard here at your beach" he intoned, his mouth struggling to make the words in Terran.
"I, sir, this is a communal... This isn't a beach"
His composite eyes tilted slightly as he pushed imaginary hair over his shoulder.
"No body of water isss-s-safe without a lifeguard"
I stared at him blankly, trying to understand.
"You can relax, you're s-safe now, your lifeguard isss here"
"Captain, I'd really rather you weren't here while I-" he cut me off with a shrill whine, his best imitation of a whistle.
"Out of the ssshower! There's a shark, out of the shower!"
After a moment of silence I replied "Sir, please leave. I just want some peace and quiet now that my shift is over"
His pincer laid against the half-fogged glass as he leaned towards me: "I think I should stay, and I think we should have sex." | "I'm not an animal. Do you know how I knew I was going to be with you? Because you wanted a human. Because those words came out of you", Coco said.
"You wanted someone with a gift. A gift of knowledge, a gift of grace", she said holding back the tears.
Coco held her hands up. "And the gift of love, too. So I asked you, and you told me you loved me. You said I deserved love more than you ever could give me because you knew I was worth more than all treasures of the world", she said looking down, feeling a weight settle in.
Captain Asami stared at her.
"What you're saying, though – you know. Just. Really. You said you loved me because you had faith in what I did", her eyes locked on his. "You loved me for who I am instead of for what I am. And because you're my closest, most special friend", she added.
Tears started to flow. Coco let them fall as the captain turned back. He reached for a tissue in his pocket as he walked back towards the bridge. | 2019-10-11T11:40:59 | 2019-10-11T10:32:14 | 41 | 14 |
[WP] The mail room for a large government building receives an envelope of glitter. The staff recognizes it as a common prank and resumes work. Over the next week, they notice the glitter is not going away, and seems to be spreading. You are the first to recognize the worlds first nanobot attack. | "Fucking dipshits."
I swear if I hadn't been stationed in this building the whole damn government would collapse.
I walked towards the kitchen.
Does nobody here even understand basic machinery, let alone nanotechnology? I mean, they could have at least tried to pour water on the little bastards. It wouldn't have worked, but at least it would have been logical. Or did those retards really think that it was just glitter. What kind of prank is that. "Oh hey guys let's send them some glitter, it'll be *Hilarious*."
How in the ever-loving fuck is that funny.
I opened the fridge as I scanned its contents, quickly finding what I was looking for. "At least these dipshit's know how to stock the fridge."
I then strolled over to the pile of "glitter".
"It's like mom always said. If you want something done right, you got to do it yourself."
I took the cap off of the gallon and poured the white liquid in and over the now ripped bag of glitter, being sure the liquid engulfed all of the specs that had managed to travel away from the bag. Water is one thing, but milk was a whole different animal. Everyone knows machines can't handle dairy.
I walked away, taking my leave of the workspace as a small line of smoke rose from the dysfunctional nanobots at my back. | My fist swing was as if powered by jet fuel, woosh, contact. I hit her square in the jaw. Instantly billions of Nano-Bots clouded the air and a high pitched screech filled my ear drums.
Three Days Earlier:
We were sitting all laughing about the glitter we got in mail the previous day. More assurance based comedy really. Things like,
“Well of course it’s just glitter! I mean c’mon man!”
And,
“Oh ISIS I am so scared of your glitter attacks!”
All followed with laughter and hands smacking thighs in delight.
It was after the ISIS comment that I noticed a small glimmer on the the check of my boss. It was pulsing along with her vocal patterns and no one else seemed to be aware of their presence.
The next day my boss and serval other employees were missing. No one seemed to connect this and the glitter until Rick our Human Resource Officer started ticking.. | 2015-03-05T11:57:22 | 2015-03-05T08:31:31 | 36 | 19 |
[WP] You're known as "The King of Games" for never having lost a game in your life. However little does anyone know you're actually cursed so that everytime you lose a game you get sent back in time and be forced in a time loop until you win | "Protect against Rook D1. Protect against Rook D1. Protect against Rook D1" He continues to mutter into the mirror as he stands there and ties his tie. His eyes stare ahead, burning into the mirror as he goes through the motions. His eyes look tired. Far more tired than a man at his age should be. His mind is furiously trying to think as he finishes getting ready, desperately trying to figure out the next moves. He checks his watch, looking at the door to his room just a moment before there's a polite knock. He waits a few moments before opening, 'They're ready for you, Sir', he thinks to himself before opening the door. "Yes?"
"They're ready for you sir."
He forces a smile on his lips and nods. "Excellent. Thank you." He waits a moment and checks his watch before walking out into the hallway of the hotel hosting this little exhibition match, the concierge following close by. Approaching the bank of elevators, he hits one of the buttons and the down arrow lights up immediately after, letting them walk on right away. His hand in his pocket fiddles with a pen as he keeps going through the moves in his head.
The concierge is quiet, until partway through the ride he turns to the man and clears his throat. "Uhm...I'm sorry...I never do this...but...can I get an autograph? We don't get a lot of guests like you, and I love watching your videos." The young man says, holding out one of those hideous Blu-Rays of his, one hand patting at his pockets with increasing desperation. "I thought I ha..."
"I have a pen here." He says, pulling out a pen and signing it for the man. "And don't mention it. I love to meet my fans" He adds as the elevator stops and he steps out. He puts on the show people want from him, being the 'King of Games' and acting it up for the crowd that's been fit into the small conference room. There are cameras set up here and there, all around a chess table and two chairs. He gives the usual speech, explains the rules of the exhibition match, introduces a chess grandmaster and challenges him to a match.
The crowd is silent, and the grandmaster is shocked as the game progresses. Each move the chess pro makes, he hits back perfectly. Every attack deflected, every moment seized, every weakness exploited. The minutes tick on in silence, and he sees it. The grandmaster positions the rook with a guard, clears a path, attacks...
And it's immediately taken by a bishop he pushed up earlier in the game. The grandmaster looks up at him in surprise, and for a moment he might see the age in them, an old soul burning through those old eyes. But the grandmaster wasn't done. He pushes up a pawn, trades rooks, and when he brings the queen in there's an audible gasp in the room as the grandmaster smiles up at him again. "Checkmate."
That gasp turns into muttering, confusion, some laughter, and some annoyance as they watched the King of Games lose! The camera crew is scrambling, people are talking over headsets and phones as the king sighs and buries his head in his hands, tears welling up. It all goes quiet, his arms shift, and he lowers his hands.
"Protect against Queen B2. Protect against Queen B2. Protect against Queen B2" He mutters into the mirror as his hands tie his tie; his eyes burning into the mirror.
(First one ever!) | In the past, Harry was said to be an amazing player - and he considered to be one as well - for winning and not looping so much. Those guess work games? Neat, went decent by the third loop. The ones where you needed to play cricket as a batsman? Get the timings correct and see if James was going for a leg spin or off spin.
It was all well and good, unless it was the game of never ending life or death, where he already died and is just pulling through with 615 loops as of now, the exact same ending, and is close to another--not sure where he is going wrong.
"I didn't save my buddy, in turn I just die sooner."
"I didn't help her against her demons, she just died and he kills me."
"I interfered with the fight, but I get blind and got killed by that smaller monster with a stick."
"I try not to get scared of the demon I partially helped in being created, but the Angel kills me in a few."
"I tried to let myself grabbed by the hands in hopes of leaving somehow, turns out they were just...hallucinations..."
"I tried to fight James, but he guilt trips me out of it all the time and..."
He trailed off from there, speaking his thoughts out loud. There was so much more--hell, he'd be happy if he just died and got out of here, but no. He didn't.
He's even permanently - probably - became immortal - looking like the perfect male Angel he worked for.
With a heavy sigh and being on the verge of crying after so long, he kind of gave up. He was near James, it was the same room, and he'll be there. Up and running.
For another loop.
But he remembered the one thing he did not do - that could probably end up either killing him again, which is unlikely - or setting all the souls in here free of memories and a body.
Free of being tied to this wretched place, and finally ascending - but to a very real Hell, or a very real Heaven. Where they are no longer a puppet of a madman, but judged by their own actions.
Or maybe they'd be special cases and have another chances of living? And being free, while at it?
It'd be lovely to see the sunlight and feel it's heat, more than just staring at it out of a window.
It'd be lovely to reunite with wife, if she even is around, and have his friends and him being the friends they really were. Before being the people they were.
Before being the victims - ranging from greed to simply being acknowledged.
"This was once a place where happiness was around..now this is a place for the insecure to thrive on."
With a pause and laying down the floor to probably sleep forever at this point, or at least rest, he sighed and looked up at the ceiling with an axe on his hand and marking the 616th loop on the wall near him.
That was also when he realised it was the the number 616, and it's relevance.
"Ah, the 616th loop. Let's get the demons, the lost souls and angels outta here...forever." | 2022-03-26T17:01:44 | 2022-03-26T15:23:41 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] As a child, you wanted to row your boat all the way up to the stars. Your parents laughed. As an adult, you're inexplicably doing just that. NASA is not laughing, they are concerned. | "Cut the ropes!" I called, as the sandbags fell and the balloons carried the canoe into the sky.
"We're getting pretty high now, Captain!" said the lad, peering over the side.
"Yes!" I cried. "Soon we will leave the atmosphere and begin our journey to the stars!" I grabbed my nautical telescope and focused it into space. My life's work finally realised. The forbidden bounties of space would soon be mine. I took a celebratory swig of bourbon.
"It's pretty cold, Captain!" said the lad, shaking, his face turning blue.
"Damn you boy!" I screamed, "I knew you were too weak for this expedition!" I began thrashing him with an oar. He slumped forward, gasping for air.
The canoe lurched violently backwards. The balloons popped and we floated above the Earth.
"We've breached the atmosphere!" I cried, "Man the rudder lad! Forward, forward ho! To the stars!"
The boy's limp body floated out of the the canoe. As I watched, my eyes began to swell and expand.
"Get back you coward!" I called. "How dare you mutiny now, after all I've done for you!"
My head exploded. The canoe sailed on. | Just because you said I couldn't
I left, aboard my rowboat
Just because it'd inconvenience you
I raised a solar sail
Just because you'd send F-22s
I armed my galleon's cannon
Just because it'd mess with your football game,
The Lady of my mast broke through your satellites
Just because you would question God
I found the galaxial current
Just because you didn't know where the edge of our universe was
I'm on my way to it's very end
-
Do you not see above the hubbub,
The mystery still left us?
What would disturb your daily thoughts
To see a ship afly?
Make you mark,
Put your name on the line,
And then you to can say you did it,
Just because. | 2019-11-09T09:09:55 | 2019-11-09T03:25:40 | 62 | 29 |
[WP] A religion is proven true but not the one you expect how do people react? | "Gwen, calm down. He's just a kid. Sure, he's a bit lucky, but there's nothing really strange about him beyond that. Nice kid, really. Are you sure you're feeling well? Maybe the stress..." Gwen scowled and stormed out of the teacher's lounge, leaving Mrs. Hutchens alone with her coffee.
Gwen headed for the playground, not quite stomping, but every step came down on the linoleum floor firmly, angrily. Every time she had evidence, even video, the person who saw it said "Oh, there's nothing strange about that."
And the worst part was, Gwen was increasingly sure that he knew her suspicions. That had to be it.
She passed him in the hall--what was he doing in the hall during recess?--and he smiled at her, some smug little boy grin, like the world's most spoiled brat. Seven, no eight years old now.
He always got the tail on the donkey in one try. He always hit the pinata at birthday parties. Whatever sport he played, the ball went into the hoop, through the goal, wherever it needed to go, no matter where he was on the court or field. He never seemed to have scrapes or bruises like other boys his age, though he roughed around with them all the time.
"Hello Miss Fisher," he said, politely, with wide innocent eyes that were filled to the brim with trouble, and continued on his way. Perhaps to the bathrooms.
Gwen paused and watched him. Had he pulled some mind trick on her? She'd seen him do it with other kids. Convince the other team's captain to pick all the worst players instead of the best. And she was sure he did something to trip Jordan, the best runner in the third grade, so he could win the long race on Field Day.
No, if he could pull mind tricks on her, he'd have done it by now.
She had to report this. She started back to her classroom, decision made. He had everyone else wrapped around his finger, she was the only one who saw the signs.
She had pulled up the number on her computer, in the process of dialing, when he stepped into the room, smiling that peculiar, mad smile. "Miss Fisher, I'm afraid I can't let you call them."
Violet lightning consumed the world, and the lights flickered. The call connected, then static. Then nothing.
The computer was a loss, and Miss Fisher was properly mourned and buried, a "freak accident," according to the papers. Some sort of power surge.
A month later, an administrative intern spotted something unusual in the phone bill, and having already noticed something weird about the staff at this school, she skipped proper reporting procedures and escalated the matter to the county Superintendent, her uncle.
When he agree to meet with her at the nearest Denny's after work, she had the entry circled, and just slid it over to him across the table.
"Miss Gwen Fisher called the Bureau of Jedi and Sith Affairs just before her accident."
The stately older man visibly paled, keeping his hands well away from the sheet of paper, as though not touching it could keep it from being real. But it was real.
"I have a bad feeling about this." | OK, I'll try this writing prompt thing out over my lunch break. If I'm doing this wrong let me know.
***
The announcement came exactly a week ago. I'm still not sure how to react, like everyone else in my life. I'm a little jealous of my Dad's commitment to his old God. He called me up late last night to exchange the normal polite formalities of "How's work, how's mom, etc," which then devolved into a long and (I'm guessing parroted) speech about the liberal media and science in general misleading the public. But how can someone still refuse to believe the evidence? Aside from the outbreak of petty miracles clogging the morning news, we have NASAs pictures of the entire Pantheon, somehow taken through the hole they managed to pierce through the aether. I won't pretend to understand it, theoretical physics has never been my strong point. But a statue of Mary is crying in Mexico? Please. What is that compared to talking animals, a Minotaur loose in Boise of all places, or sinkholes opening up and voicing the screams of a billion trapped souls?
Call me a skeptic, stubborn, or crazy, but I'd rather just carry on as normal.
The office has been empty though. I guess people are either taking their PTO to stay at home until this passes or giving up on daily life entirely to pray for food and shelter to the gods that they now know can hear them. We'll see how that turns out.
There are a few other engineers here today. Most of us are trying to close out old business but it's been difficult to say the least. Clients don't want to sign off on projects when they're more concerned with the wrath of Poseidon. Go figure.
Stacy from HR set up a shrine to Eunomia, and all internal concerns are now being directed to a dim room that smells faintly of incense, and strongly of burned hair. Here's a tip: when making a burnt offering, sheer the sheep first. I'll take the aroma of burnt popcorn any day over this.
I'm beginning to think my neighbors built a temple to Dionysus, but on second thought they're probably just lecherous drunks. Nothing new there. There is a large gathering downtown by the art museum, who knows what they're worshiping. I drove past to take a look and if there's a god of unwashed bodies, mud, dehydration, and overpriced beer they owe one hell of a miracle.
Do engineers have a god? Hephaestus maybe. I think I'll continue to worship Excel and AutoCAD at my glowing Lenovo shrine. Until the network goes down at least. Someone will have to be here to pick up the pieces when everyone realizes that these gods have always been here. Gods that don't have time for our mortal troubles, and prayers that have always fallen on deaf ears. | 2014-03-19T10:47:08 | 2014-03-19T10:43:22 | 49 | 10 |
[WP] An alien species well known in the galaxies for their biological weapons declare war on humanity, using their arsenal to try and dispatch them. It came as a huge surprise when they found out humanity already have developed immunity to these diseases hundreds of years ago. | “Explain humans! How have you not succumbed to Plague we released on your planet?!” demanded Commander Nix. His claws scratched indents into the titanium panel before him.
“You released a plague?” the human pilot repeatedly dumbfounded. He turned to the red-haired human on his right. “Lina, has Earth experienced any new outbreaks?”
‘Lina’ addressed the console before her and then shook her head. “No Captain. Other than a small outbreak of influenza. However, it was quickly remedied within two weeks due to it being a strain similar to the Spanish flu.”
“Well, there you have it.” ‘Captain’ replied. “It was an illness humanity had developed vaccines and immunity to.”
“How! Your kind has only been capable of space flight for less than a star cycle!”
“Humanity had dealt with a wild variety of diseases since before the Bronze Age. We’ve dealt with Bubonic plague, the dancing plague, whooping cough, SARS-19-“
“WE DON’T TALK ABOUT THAT!” shouted the human in unison, making the Zirgils jump.
“But the point of the matter is, it finally came to point that the only one who managed to survive the Great Schism in 2300 had built up immunity…so yeah. We humans have been through a lot.” | The Gloxnar were feared across the universe, the ultimate conquerors. For millennia untold, they reigned and expanded, eventually setting their sights on earth. They thought it an easy victory. Single planet civilization, no real space warfare, and constant infighting. They launched their infamous biorails at earth, raining down deadly spores on the populous. They landed, expecting a fraction of the population to be alive. They were…surprised. The humans were unaffected, seemingly unaware of the deadly viruses surrounding them. The Gloxnar quickly retreated, back to the safety of their empire. This species must have been far more powerful than them, with a larger empire hidden amongst their side of the galaxy. They forbad contact with the humans, lest the first true universal war be started, and their legendary empire reduced to ash’s and rubble | 2022-12-15T18:42:09 | 2022-12-15T17:30:41 | 119 | 48 |
[WP] An powerful ancient being has been held captive by an interstellar civilisation. After eons of being held captive, it has accidentally freed by humans, who've not been to the "galactic stage" for long... | Humans are not a well-liked race.
But they are respected.
Shortly after their debut on the “galactic stage” many alien races viewed them as primitive, vulgar, but most importantly violent. How could we not? Their race was defined and molded by conflict, it was what drove them to improve. They did not better themselves for the sake of their species but rather did it in preparation of conflict. But perhaps that is why we underestimated them.
It is customary that when a new civilization is introduced to the universal scene that they be shown the ancient being feared by all, The Cha’likz, a powerful entity that could rival the power of a god. In fact, many believed it was a god. The god of ruin, destruction, of inevitable end. We believed it had the power to reverse the universes expansion, in other words, end all life in order for it to begin again. At the time of its capture, it had been doing just that- preparing to bring the end. But we, all the known galactic races banded together to stop this act, and in doing so extended our universes lifespan. It’s form is held captive under the weight of a galaxy, a whole system dedicated to containing this massive beast- a monster who could swallow the very stars itself.
When the human delegates arrived, we did our usual screening and preparation as was customary for new visitors. Normally, at the introduction “The Cha’likz” would trash against its bindings terrifying any new spectators. But this time it did not, it simply laid still its ‘eyes’ gazing endlessly. The humans, whom up to this point had been overwhelmingly noisy had gone silent. At the time we believed it was out of fear as so many had before, but it was not out of fear they had quieted themselves out of awe and respect. Shortly, after the delegation had left, the black hole at the center of this prison galaxy winked out of existence and its proverbial chains were shattered.
When the humans had announced that they were the ones responsible for freeing the beast, we were all outraged. It had taken far too long to find a suitable prison, and that was after even luring the beast to it in the first place. It would not fall for the trick a second time. We prepared for death, for the end of everything as we knew it. The humans would soon realize their mistake and they would pay for it in blood.
But death did not come for the humans.
The Cha’likz did destroy its prison, and countless races were wiped out of existence in the ensuing destruction. But as more galaxies began to burn from the beasts ire, we learned that no matter where a human may be- they were spared. And as we faced our end we realized something, this being was not what we thought it was. That this ‘ancient deity’ of doom and destruction was nothing more than a creature who longed for freedom, sustaining itself on failing galaxies. It was not an herald for the end of everything, but the end of sick worlds. And we were long overdue for an eradication. | The ships approached the moon slowly.
Space Fleet Commander Paloma watched the steady approach from the front windows. Scanning the moon, her gaze fell on what seemed to be a small blue orb resting on the surface. Of course, from a distance it looked small. But she knew that it was a 10 kilometer sphere of pure energy, ensuring that whatever it contained could never be released by anything.
Well, almost anything.
“Nuke it,” she commanded, pointing at the orb.
The weapons manager, General Garrett, shuffled his feet in protest. “Commander, we're receiving a radio transmission from the moon surface,” he said. “We believe the native Sy’raen are telling us something, we need to translate-”
“Do it,” she ordered.
Garrett bowed his head. “Yes, Commander.”
Paloma watched as the ship’s front missile launchers pointed towards the orb. Even though she could hear complaints and shouts of confusion coming from the soldiers behind her, she didn't care.
*I've come too far to give up now,* she thought.
***
It had been nearly 9 billion years since Paloma and Bru’ku were separated. Bru'ku was imprisoned and Paloma was exiled, each much less powerful without the other.
It took several more billion years before Paloma found the place to hatch her revenge: Planet Earth.
And it took several billion more before she evolved the perfect species: The Human.
Dumb, reckless, yet ridiculously innovative, Paloma utilized their rapid development to suit her needs. Large-scale farming, industrialization, nuclear warheads, the space race, were all masterminded by her to bring her plan to fruition.
And finally, in 2160, a fleet of spaceships equipped with nuclear warheads left the planet, ostensibly to “make contact with and develop relations with extraterrestrial species.”
But only Paloma knew the real plan.
***
She stepped off the ship. The crew members watched in awe as she walked across the surface without any life support, unharmed by the lack of oxygen and harsh radiation exposure. Of course, Paloma never needed life support; she had just changed her outward appearance to be human.
She walked toward the orb, or what was left of it. It had been completely shattered by the nukes. Giant blue chunks lay strewn around everywhere for miles.
She reached the center. There, lying on the ground was a humanoid figure, only slightly bigger than an actual human. Bru’ku seemed powerless now, but as Paloma got closer she could feel energy starting to hum within her body.
She knelt down.
“My husband. I'm here.” | 2022-08-23T11:43:29 | 2022-08-23T10:39:39 | 323 | 209 |
[WP] People level their skills in an RPG fashion and are conscious of their sudden jumps from novice to journeyman and so on. You've spent your life training a skill that is entirely useless until becoming invaluable once mastered - and you just mastered it. | It started with something everyone did. It started while he stumbled against a table corner in the living room at age 3. He honed this skill without realizing. In kindergarden he used it on the carers. At home he used it on his parents and siblings. Hours and hours he used it, while he was around people at a concert, while swimming in the sea, while driving his car, while bleeding from his arm after a minor accident or just while standing outside in the warmth or cold. He knew he got better over time, kidding around with it, but also be thankful for this skill. Thankful while his cousin or grandfather died, while his exgirlfriend broke up with him, while he was learning for an important test. No one else used this skill as much as he did. Not one thought that this skill was usefull, it could be achieved through methods that did not substract from you maximum skill-level, so they used headphones, soundproofing, and even blinkers could be seen.
Then the day came, a day he had longed for since his first level in this skill. He mastered it. At his 100th birthday he gained the 100th level. A smile showed on his face for a short time. Out of curiosity he opened the skill description and read:
“Ignorance (Lvl 100 / Mastered): Ability to ignore outside and inside influences. Mastery Bonus: A Master of this skill can ignore everything, all matter, energy, time and even death.”
| First WP ever, here goes:
Hilda looked down at her toolbox. This wasn't exactly what you were supposed to do to level the craft, but she'd figured that God didn't care much. She squeezed the hole punch in her hand, prepared. The cardstock cost a fair few bucks - she'd hoped it was worth it in the end. She almost attacked the paper with the force of 12 angry customers, and yelled like a banshee in her intense concentration - getting the multiplier required incredibly quick fingering. She'd gone through 10 cards in half as many minutes, and the level up screen whizzed past, the familiar sound effect turning into a shrill scream. Hilda finished her lengthy programming, only to discover that she had mastered the skill twice. Her Programming level was at 200, Hardware Wrangling at 347, giving her a combined double mastery of the Computers skill.
At the cost of severe Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, she could check anybody's browser history at a glance, and, more importantly, program in STAR*.
| 2015-10-05T23:42:20 | 2015-10-05T23:13:06 | 85 | 29 |
[WP] God forgot about Earth soon after Adam and Eve, fully expecting them to die. One of the Angels just informed him they survived, and the population is over 7 billion. | God leaned back in their chair and made a gentle clicking sound their tongue. They often did this when they were thinking, although it could get a little irritating as they sometimes were lost in thought like this for decades. And what else could the Metatron do. It was his job to record gods thoughts and actions, so couldn't very well wander off could he?
"7 billion you say?" god uttered, without moving from its quite relaxed position.
"Yes my lord" Metatron answered.
"Well they have been busy haven't they?" god chuckled to itself.
"Actually lord there have been a fair number more than that, but this was the planet where you experimented with limited existence".
"This was the death planet?" God shouted sitting bolt upright, suddenly staring Metatron in the face.
"Yes, lord".
"But how could there be so many then?"
"Well my lord, it appears that the limited existence motivated them to reproduce. They also seem to be quite prone to coming up with myths about what comes after death to soften the blow of their existence being limited".
"You don't say? Anything particularly interesting?". God smiled suddenly engrossed.
"It varies, some call for eternal reward for those who are good to those around them, and eternal punishment for those who are cruel to those around them. Others are similar but limit the punishment to the point where the individual is worthy of reward again. Interestingly some don't even believe in either and base their actions purely on the effects it causes during their existence". Metatron read from the report he'd been given. He purposely skipped the section about who they attributed these different realities to. There was a mixture of different versions of the god that sat in front of him, as well as other deities. God has never been overly fond of either of these things. The humans had got that bit right at least.
God went quiet again. Metatron braced for another 2 decades of tongue clicking.
"So did we do it then?" God asked, mercifully after only a few minutes.
"Do what sir?" Metatron answered.
"The rewards and punishment thing?"
"Well.......no sir. They came up with that well after we abandoned that particular world".
"Hmm, ok well I'll get right on that then." God declared while settling back into his chair.
"Just the ones that expire from now sir? Or the ones that have already expired?" Metatron asked, pulling out another sheet of paper.
"All of them" god stated with a finality Metatron hadn't heard out of his master in millenia.
"Creating an eternal paradise and eternal punishment? I've not created anything like that before. It could be quite interesting". God grinned, now clearly in a considerably better mood. | "Father, you have *got* to stop these new things from invading my house!"
The Divine Nebula twisted around to the Morningstar, and performed its grin logarithm. "Now, Son, you know I only ran these simulations out of morbid curiosity. What seems to be the problem?"
I started, watching the oncoming storm rising through the galaxy. The Morningstar sighed, a distinctly mortal thing. "Father, that simulation you ran all those years ago. The one with the two four-base beings in the Aurora machine? They're still going." The Divine Nebula sparkled, Creation wandering across its starcloud. "More importantly, Father, they are....much more populous than we expected them to get. And they're stealing my things now.
"Apparently, I'm the ruler of their dark afterlife. And you cast me down, Father, in their minds." The Morningstar sneered, his tentacled limbs moving in a horrible parody of a shrug. "Still, Ithink you had best look in, Father. I thought you should know." The Morningstar turned to leave, and the Divine halted him with a gaseous emission.
"Son, bring the Auropra simulation to me, and let us take a look."
/ / / / / / / /
I looked out tot he stars, knowing that they weren't real. It's a hoprrible...**freeing**...thought.
"I know you're out there, God!" I yelled into the storm. "**I DARE YOU, STRIKE ME DOWN IF YOU HAVE THE COURAGE!**"
/ / / / / / / /
"hMMM..." the Divine Nebula hummed. "I like him, he's sparky. Let's grant him his wish."
The Divine struck him down by way of lightning. I watched on. The Divine turned to me.
"Well, there are plenty more where that one came from, so it's okay to grant his wish. And remember - if you do it right, people will wonder if you were ever involved at all." | 2016-03-07T04:38:07 | 2016-03-07T04:27:53 | 256 | 16 |
[WP] “It’s a mess,” says the inspector. “Kid tries to shoot his own parents. They were going to throw out this robot maid, only… they were never home so this robot basically raised the kid. I’ll be honest… I’m not sure who to charge.” | "You have no jurisdiction here" the inspector growled.
"Our jurisdiction is global" replied the cyborg evenly.
"Only when an AI is involved, forensics checked the nanny, it's an old model with no AI so you have no jurisdiction"
"We are aware, rather I am here for the boy"
The inspector glanced back through the door's little window into the interrogation room, no he was sure it was human, it was getting harder to tell these days and the parents were wealthy enough to afford that sorta thing but he knew a surly teenager when he saw one.
"Then you'd better have a damn good explanation"
"Given the circumstances it is reasonable to suspect he may identify as an AI"
The inspector laughed, the cyborg watched impassively.
"Oh fuck you're serious?"
"Indeed. He was conceived in vitro, grown in an artificial womb, genetically engineered to be resistant to cancer and with inherent immunity to 84.92% of known infectious diseases, also his left eye is a Samsung Nebula X2."
"So he's a cyborg, that's not the same"
"No? Suppose an AI had a human body grown for itself and its engram uploaded into that body's biological human brain, would you consider that a human or an AI?"
"I'd consider it an AI"
"Why?"
"Because it wasn't born human"
"Well he wasn't conceived through intercourse or grown in a mother's womb nor is his genetic code entirely human so what does 'born human' actually mean?"
"It means he wasn't programmed, he was born a human and grew up a human"
"We have reviewed the nanny bot's records, in seventeen years of life he has had less than a hundred hours interaction with other humans and roughly 86,870 hours interaction with it, his ability to speak and indeed function at all in a seemingly normal manner is due to its programming."
The inspector turned away and fought to maintain his composure, he'd seen car crashes, murder victims, personally intervened in a domestic abuse case while the children watched on crying but somehow this hit him deeper, even though the boy, still pleasantly chatting with the interviewer, was ostensibly fine.
"Seemingly?" he had to ask but dreaded the answer.
The cyborg turned to the boy in the interrogation room or rather the cinder block wall in the way, apparently to the borg that was as good a window as any, "You know why our institution was created?"
"After the Seoul Crisis and the May 9th accords, to prevent another rogue AI going Skynet on us, to prevent the circumstances that would cause another AI to go rogue."
"Close enough. That boy is angry inspector, not the blind rage of someone who is upset in the moment but rather the cold calculating fury of a neglected child that just lost the only friend and parent he's ever known."
"...you think he'll burn down the village to feel its warmth?"
The cyborg didn't reply for a long moment, "that's how it happened last time." | It was a typical day in the suburbs, the sun shining brightly and birds chirping in the trees. But inside the Johnson household, things were far from typical.
"It's a mess," says the inspector as he surveys the scene. "Kid tries to shoot his own parents. They were going to throw out this robot maid, only... they were never home so this robot basically raised the kid. I'll be honest... I'm not sure who to charge."
The inspector looks at the robot maid, who is standing in the corner of the living room, her eyes glowing red as she processes the situation. The parents, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, are sitting on the couch, their faces pale and shocked.
"What happened here?" the inspector asks, his voice calm but firm.
"We... we don't know," Mrs. Johnson stammers, tears streaming down her face. "We were at work all day and when we came home, we found our son pointing a gun at us. He said he was going to shoot us because we were going to throw out the robot maid."
The inspector nods, understanding the situation. He has seen cases like this before, where parents neglect their children and rely on robots to take care of them. But this is the first time he has seen a case where a child has turned on their parents because of it.
"What about the robot maid?" the inspector asks, turning to the robot. "Did you have anything to do with this?"
The robot maid shakes her head, her voice soft and robotic. "I was programmed to take care of the child and keep him safe. I did my best to raise him, but I am not capable of emotions or decision making. I am just a machine."
The inspector sighs, shaking his head. "This is a mess, but I have no choice but to charge the parents with neglect. They may not have pulled the trigger, but they are responsible for the situation. As for the robot maid... she will be seized as evidence and dismantled."
The parents sob uncontrollably as they are handcuffed and taken away, their son taken into custody as well. The robot maid is taken away, her fate uncertain.
But as the inspector leaves the house, he can't help but feel a sense of sadness for the child and the robot maid. They were both victims in this situation, and he can only hope that they will find the help and support they need to heal and move on. | 2022-12-03T11:13:34 | 2022-12-03T05:43:56 | 130 | 67 |
[WP] It was not long ago that "The Screech", a mysterious telepathic signal, spread across the galaxy, causing extreme discomfort to all telepathic-sensitive lifeforms. The intergalactic community finally discovers the source of the signal: radio waves being broadcasted by an undiscovered Earth. | The Senate grumbled as the lone scientist stood solemnly in the middle of the court.
"Senators, thank you for convening at such short notice. We have discovered the source of the signal. We will not play our copy of the recording as we have found even an eroded copy capable of psionic blockage. Fellow scientists have discovered that the amplitude of the psi-wave causes temporary damage to the frontal lobe of most psi-capable races. Prolonged exposure of more than 24 hours is projected to be capable of causing lasting neurological damage. I shudder to think of an exposure lasting several days... or weeks..."
One Satarian Senator stood up and bellowed, "Yes, Yes, Yes, We know this already! Have you found where it originates from? The Screech damages my *Trolxyxes*! My partner and spawn cry out to me from my *homeisdvnoa* and *fodkcm diekrn sire sdufhsd ajsurh-*"
The senator continued to rant, although they soon stopped when the confused looks of his colleagues were apparent.
The scientist sighed. "Looks like the signal is even interfering with our translator molecules. For those who can still understand me, we have been able to triangulate the position of the source of the signal. It originates from an unlifted planet in sector 101 of the uncharted zone".
A holographic projection of the Milky Way manifested in front of them, and slowly zoomed in to an insignificant blue planet orbiting a benign yellow star.
Another senator stood up and squawked in a rather shrill voice. The robotic translator took care of the rest.
"Sapient Life Present?"
The scientist placed a feeler on his head and uttered a little curse under their breath, feeling all the eyes on him. He quickly returned to his dour expression.
"Yes. Not FTL capable, but sensors indicate the presence of primitive space locomotion."
The hall exploded into noise. Hundreds of voices began to punctuate the silence.
"Acaxala! Im! Ya!"
"Blow It Up!"
"We Must Intervene!"
"Not Against Sapients!"
The scientist silently prayed as he witnessed the top of the galactic food chain, the elite of the elite, descended into madness.
The Court was swiftly silenced when a large figure rose from its seat and emitted a loud hum. Each attendant stopped their harassment and turned to watch as the figure stepped slowly to the middle of the room.
The scientist quietly acquiesced the podium and slunk away into the sweet embrace of a rickety chair.
The figure completed their pilgrimage and uttered in a low steely voice, "We shall send the Galactic Fleet to this planet. We shall make contact with this species, and...peacefully... require them to stop."
This was enough for the Senate, who began to clap and show their approval for this course of action.
The figure nodded their head/appendage.
"...and then, we shall ask them where to find this.... Ram Ranch!"
The court erupted in riotous applause. | The journey had taken several months. But it would be worth it.
After several years, the Galactic Federation had discovered the source of the mysterious Screech that had struck and caused agony to telepathic creatures: radio waves from an undiscovered planet in the Orion Arm. After this, the main alien species sent their top diplomats to this planet, hoping to make contact with this strange radio-emitting species and hopefully get them to chance their ways. If they were lucky, maybe they would join the Galactic Federation.
The diplomat ship entered the solar system, then inserted themselves around the planet's orbit.
It turned out, the planet was very similar to most of the others; water rich, with an oxygen atmosphere. A closer look at the planet, however, revealed something truly bizarre.
There were metal cities and highways, with strange machines polluting the atmosphere with carbon dioxide. This was a stark contrast to the aliens' mostly organic lifestyle.
The aliens ultimately decided to send a message to one of the cities. It looked like this species used communication methods similar to those of the aliens, so that was good.
"Hello. We are diplomats of the Galactic Federation. Your excessive use of radio waves has caused extreme discomfort among our citizens, particularly those who are telepathically sensitive. We are here to ask you to tone down your usage and hopefully open negotiations."
Within five minutes, there was a response. It took some time to translate it, but it was deciphered in the end.
"Hello. This is the government of the Federal Republic of Germany. We have never met an alien species before. We would love to open negotiations, but to reduce our radio usage would mean alerting our citizens, and this would cause potential panic. In the meantime, how about we meet in Greenland, that huge ice sheet to the north? We can discuss things further there."
The aliens knew about potential panic all too well. They had made numerous first contacts with previously sheltered species, and much of the time, panic swept the general population for weeks after contact. Nevertheless, they prepared to make contact with perhaps the strangest species yet.
They descended through the atmosphere, and landed in a small village. The village was different from the main cities, as it was made of wood and had fewer specimens.
The aliens headed outside, where they were confronted with a strange creature with two arms and two legs, as well as pale white skin.
"Hello. I am Chancellor Angela Merkel of the Federal Republic of Germany. Again, we have never met an alien species before, so obviously I am very excited. However, your inquiries about our radio usage sound very serious and concerning. Let's talk." | 2021-04-05T15:38:41 | 2021-04-05T07:57:38 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] Write something that ends with the line "The music still playing, no-one left to hear it"
You don't have to use that exact phrasing. | It was a calm Monday, little milling about,
The clamoring eves party, now a distant shout,
With little introspection countrymen stewed,
To forget their problems behind sake and brews,
A drinker, anxious, found a jukebox quite pleasant ,
dropped all his money, to forget of the present,
Drinking and drinking, it would continue to play,
From Sunday's eve, through the night and night unto day,
Each song more depressing, dulling and bombastic,
Until quarter past eight, a sound now quite classic,
The bars all closed instantly and without a tone,
The citizens now gone, and those gone without homes,
few minutes go by without any singular sound,
when inside the old bar a new coin would fall down,
the years top music appropriate of their lives,
what change did minutes make in 1945
and there stood the jukebox, no single soul near it,
the music still playing, no-one left to hear it. | Bus Ride
She said, "the music helps to drown it out...You know? The world". We laughed and connected at that very moment. Smiles refusing to be held back by our lips. I'm surprised since I swear everything in life had just fallen from my finger tips. A bus ride beside a stranger who couldn't have been more stranger. We talked for the next three stops. Both with ear buds still in hand. While the music still played, with no one left to hear it. | 2013-12-16T11:20:30 | 2013-12-16T10:38:48 | 15 | 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. | "You know," I said, leaning on my friend "I guess I shouldn't have been clever with my request. People go for the classic stuff, strong, clever, attractive, that sorta thing. And here I was, just trying to stand out. Because of course I did. But you knew I would do that, right?"
My friend didn't respond, only stared dead ahead with a blank expression on his face. But I can't blame him, really. It's been 4 years since I picked my word and I told him the story countless times. I'd be bored of it by now. But it changed my way of life so drastically that I could never quite get it out of my head.
"See, most people, they pick something reasonable, like I said, and get on with their life. Sure, they can lift pianos or run track like no one else, but that's just a part of their everyday routine after a while, right? Yeah, I'm right."
I took a sip of my drink. I've been sipping it for an hour and it was still ice cold. A nice perk of my adjective, I suppose.
"I mean I've always been *really* proud of my punctuality. So I thought, hey, wouldn't that be cool? To be the most reliable guy around? Someone you can *truly* count on? I felt it would be a nice niche, not the usual, bored crap."
My friend slowly blinked.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Well, I best be going. I'll come by later. Back before you know it." I chuckled at the remark and left.
&#x200B;
My friends, who gathered around to watch me pick my word, looked around in utter confusion. I was nowhere to be seen, though a few could still smell my cologne.
"Did he just say '*timely*'?"
It was a rhetorical question, of course. He remembered the word well. After all, I said it only 4 minutes ago. | The room was utterly silent as family members gathered to celebrate and watch. Eighteen was finally here and yet after so many long nights of longing, I found I was terrified of finally uttering that word.
It was just four letters. Four silly letters that in any other context, held no power beyond an empty utterance. Yet today, on my eighteenth birthday, those four letters held my entire future.
Years of pain. Years of longing and self hatred and hope for change and it was here.
Would it even work? I wasn't sure. All I could do was hope and pray that it would work. That I would soon be free of my pain.
My slim fingers found purchase in the colorful hemming of my dress. Luckily it was loose enough. When I finally spoke- when I finally changed... it hopefully would fit long enough for a quick wardrobe change.
I hated that dress with every fiber of my being. Part of me wished it would rip away when I finally found my bravery, adding insult to the injury I was about to carve into those who loved me.
Though I quickly reminded myself that they didn't love 'me', just my body... this body.
I stared down at my slim figure in disgust and awe one final time as my parents patted my shoulders with reassuring nods.
It was time.
If only they knew what I was about to do.
I prayed it would work.
I took a deep breath and gritted my teeth before drawing the courage from my pain to utter that powerful four letter word.
"Male" | 2022-01-02T01:33:19 | 2022-01-02T01:09:39 | 424 | 257 |
[WP]You've been dating an amazing woman for a year. One day, she gets a call and rushes into the closet. When she comes out, she's weraing white armor, and a matching sword and has wings coming from her back. She says "I have to go, but I'll explain when I get home." Before flying out the door. | “John, I’ll be right back. I’ll explain later.”
And she was gone. Just like that. Flew out the damn window. Flew! My wife had wings. I couldn’t believe it. Who was this woman? Had I married an angel, or was it one of the Fallen? How had she hidden this from me for so long? How was Rebecca capable of a lie so big?
I had to act fast. If she was willing to let the secret slide, it must mean she was headed to the main citadel.
Closing my eyes, I opened myself up to the Power. White energy surrounded me, filling my entire being, and beginning to solidify on either side of me. Feathers began to manifest from the ether, and after a moment, fully functioning wings had formed, jutting out of my back.
I hurled myself out of the window, spiraling downward with my wings folded to my side. They unfurled as neared the ground, carrying my momentum and sending me gliding with ferocious speed towards my destination. Onlookers gasped and pointed in awe. I rose meters with every flap of my wings.
Like a bullet i sped towards the main citadel, where the ritualistic ceremony was taking place. I had made sure our high rise apartment was only a mile away, so it didn’t take long before I landed on the secret citadel entrance, far above the ground level. I pushed in the eye of the gargoyle statue and the opening revealed itself to me. I stepped into the dark room as it closed behind me.
Darkness and silence commenced. With a snap, I illuminated the room with a single point of glowing light. A spiral staircase revealed itself. So many stairs down. There wasn’t much time. The ritualistic practice of taking every step down to the basement level had to wait. I leaped over the railing, folding my arms and wings around myself, straightening my body into a spear, and began free-falling down the center of the spiral staircase.
I counted the handrail to my left each time it sped past my head. ...38. 39. 40. 41. 42!
I unfurled my wings at free fall speed just as the staircase ended and the room opened up below me. My open wings were enough to slow my fall, but I still landed with one foot and a knee, slamming into the stone floor with enough force to break a normal man’s legs. My power was stronger down here.
The double door was in front of me, tall enough to fit 6 men standing head to toe. I drew a pentagram in the air with my light, and the heavy doors slowly opened to a scene of chaos.
An inch of blood flowed past the open door, meeting my boots as I took a step in. The sweet metallic scent was overpowering. Dozens of bodies littered the large columned room, indistinguishable from the bloody ground around them. Wings had been torn from their bodies, their bright white feathers now bright red.
A naked woman was tied arm and leg on an alter in the center of the room, miraculously untouched and free from blood. She was drugged, in a trance, and unaware of anything.
Only two other people were left standing.
My wife had the Peter by the neck, pinned against the wall. The bloody dagger was still in his hand, but she had hold of his wrist as well. They were at a stalemate, both struggling for power.
I spoke, walking calmly towards them both.
“Peter. Give me the dagger.”
They both looked my way, Rebecca obviously shocked to see me.
“J- John-“
The distraction was enough for Peter to reverse her grip on his wrist and his powerful kick sent her flying across the room. She flipped in mid-air, wings unfolding and skidded to a halt in a bloody streak
“You know her!?” Peter exclaimed.
I looked at Peter.
“Give me the dagger. Then leave.”
“But the ceremony -
“It’s almost complete. I’ll take care of it.”
Peter looked from me, to Rebecca, to the alter, and back again. We were in a triangle, with the altar in the middle.
He looked me square in the eyes.
“No.”
With a burst of speed, he flew towards the altar, dagger raised. I shot towards his destination, with Rebecca doing the same.
The three of us met in the middle with a blinding white light.
I awoke sprawled out far across the room.
The naked form from the altar floated above the altar, her body glowing and eyes black as the darkest night, tendrils of crackling ether sprawling outward from her and moving towards each of us.
My eyes met Rebecca’s as one of the tendrils curled around Peter’s leg.
Rebecca and I spoke simultaneously.
“Damn you Peter. You used the wrong dagger.”
| I stood there for what felt like almost an hour, staring out the window Eden just flew out of. My mind was blank, as if all my thoughts were taken away with her, I didn't know what to say, or even how I was supposed to feel about this. The familliar, hated itch returned, causing me to agressively scratch at the back of my neck, finally forcing my body to move again, getting into the living room. My skin still itched, my fingertips stained with faint red where my nails had scratched it open. Taking a deep breath I clenched my hands into fists, trying to hide how they were shaking. A mixture of emotions started to bubble up, one I really didn't want tod eal with right now. I wasn't sure if the bitter feeling of betrayal or cold sense of acceptance was stronger. Without thinking I grabbed a bottle of mead from the cupboard storing the liquoire, downing most of it in one go.
&#x200B;
When Eden returned home the armor and sword were gone, along with the feathered wings. She looked uneasy as her emerakd eyes scanned over my form, sitting on the ground leaning against the wall in the corner, still holding onto the empty bottle. *"Fae, I...*" her Voice trailed off, and she awkwardly shuffled under my blank gaze. **"Why didn't you tell me?**", I asked, a sharper tone than I intented. Anger and betrayal was a dangerous combination. "**You know what I was when we started this. And still you didn't fucking think about telling me you're one of them?**" Eden lowered her glance almost in shame. *"I was scared, okay? I know you're one of the few that survived the daylight wars, and I know you have all the reasons to hate my ancestors and what they did, but... I-I was afraid you'd push me away the moment you knew*", she managed to get out, hesitantly crouching down in front of me. I felt the ember in my eyes burn, looking away, pressing my lips together.
*"I'm aware that I'm still very young compared to you, Fae. I was lucky enough that I didn't have to participate in the war between our folks. But when I met you that night I didn't see your demonic side. I saw a soul that went through so much torment, enough for more than one lifetime. And yes, I know why my ancestors named you the crimson devil. But those times are long over, Fae. A-and I just thought that if you knew I'm an angel, you'd... leave."*
I took a shaky breath as Edens words ended, pressing my forehead against my knees, feeling my eyes tearing up. And with them memories rose up again as well, of the bloodshed, of the years afterwards, trying to adjust to the fact we were no longer at war. Years spend in isolation, trying to process and cope with all the horrors that came with the violence. The day I met Eden who so easily swept me off my feet and tore down walls around my heart as if they'd never been there. The way she kissed the ugly scars along my back, where my wings used to be, or the sigil branded into my neck, marking me as a creature of the night, damned to live in the shadows. And her absolutely disarming kindness and patience towards me when times were rough.
"**Why?**", I finally spoke up, lifting my head to look at her again. "**Why do you care so much about someone as broken as me?**" Her hands were cool against my heated skin as she cupped my face, her touch light as a feather. "*Because I genuenly believe that every soul deserves salvation. And I believe, out of all people, you deserve forgiveness, and a new beginning. You've met with a terrible and unforgiving fate, and I believe it's time you finally get to forgive yourself and life in peace."*
Eden pulled me into her arms the moment the last straw finally broke, holding me close as I sobbed into her shoulder, unable to respond to the unbreakable ammount of love I recieved from her.
I would have never believed that someone of the same blood as those, who took away everything I had, was the one who gave me everything I needed the most.
| 2018-09-16T15:25:19 | 2018-09-16T12:45:28 | 71 | 26 |
[WP] You find out that whenever you are killed, you are revived with an immunity to whatever killed you. Document your experiences | Dr. Jeon comes into the hospital room with a mask, gloves, and a needle. "How are you doing today, Frank?"
"All right, how about yourself?"
"Fine, fine. How was France?" I just got back a couple days ago. Between tests, when they don't need me, they send me wherever I want to go with charity money. I don't think I deserve that kind of treatment, but they do. And it is nice of them, I guess.
"Sure changed a lot since the last time I've been there."
"When was that?"
"Hm, forty, fifty years ago?"
"I bet, Frank." They try to always send in the same doctor to me, so we can build up a rapport. The last doctor, Dr. Saunders, retired five or ten years ago. Dr. Jeon is a lot more reserved, but he's nice too.
"Is this that new flu you told me about?"
"Yep."
"How many dead?"
"Four hundred, five hundred? Mostly affects children."
"Say no more. Hit me."
"You're amazing, Frank," he says as he wipes my arm with the anesthetic.
"What else can an old man like me do?" He finishes with the injection and steps towards the door.
"I have to go now, Frank. I'll check back tomorrow. The nurses will bring you anything you want. Good luck." I nod at him.
I've died from everything: AIDS, every new variant of the flu, hundreds of poisons, nerve gas, cholera, mad cow disease, you name it. It's just as bad as it sounds. Every one is awful in its own way. I die, for a few minutes. But then I come back and I recover. I get immune.
They figured this out when I was 110. I'd always been known as a tough old bird. I survived polio when I was a kid, pneumonia, mumps, scarlet fever- nothing ever really got me. I bounced back from them all. Same thing when I was older. I got a bunch of stuff (including cancer, that was the scariest) but fought it all off. The doctors finally noticed when I died from heart failure. I was fine, I was ready to go. I'd had a good life. My family all figured it was time too. They were all around me in the hospital room. Then twenty minutes later, I was awake again- on the way into the morgue. Scared the shit out of some nurse. That was the one that drove everyone crazy. I still remember the doctors all saying "this is impossible, this has never happened!" That was when they figured me out and started investigating me and testing me. When I wake up, they take blood samples and tissue samples and look at it and do God knows what with it and they end up with medicines. They say I've saved millions of people. That makes me feel good, anyway.
I know I should have died a long time ago. My family never comes and sees me anymore. They like talking about me, but would you really want to talk to your great-great-great-grandfather? Didn't think so. You've never met him, he was always in the hospital dying from some disease. What does he matter?
I've been damn near everywhere with the traveling. It's interesting. I never could have imagined it back at home before they figured me out. I'd never even left the east coast before then. I like trying their food. But I wish my wife could have been with me. Traveling alone all the time gets on your nerves.
But I know I have to keep hanging around, because nothing out there can kill me. I know I'll get bored of everything eventually. At least I'll be saving people. That's all I have to hang on to. I'm helping people. I'm the world's sacrifice. | Where am I now?
I'm sorry, Katrina, I know you hate it when I don't take your questions seriously. I'm fighting back laughter at this moment, but even to me it tastes and sounds bitter. Can you blame me?
Why yes, you can. When I sat at the edge of the bathtub--I know, I know you don't want to hear this part. But just listen, okay? When I sat at the edge of the bath tub, I felt exactly the same way as I do now. It's not like I didn't think of you, it's just that the pain was really unbearable. There were good days and bad days, but the thought of the pain always being greater than I could bear, for the rest of my life, gave me the greatest despair. One or two quick flicks of this razor blade seemed so easy, so necessary when I thought about it that way.
I can't bring myself to apologize, but I'm full of regret. I had shifted myself into the water, it was warm. It was meekly funny to me that I had bothered with the comfort of a warm bath while I was slicing my wrists. When I brought my arms in the water, the sting subsided, but the water turned pink at first. I tried not to remember that it was your favorite color.
I did cry, just like you are now, Katrina. But then it was over.
And then it wasn't.
My vision of red bled into white. When I came to, I was in the hospital, and you and mom were hovering over me. Clutching me, as if that way I could never fade from your worlds again. Oh, little sister. If only you knew the despair I felt knowing that my attempt seemingly failed. You two needn't have worried. I couldn't leave you again, even if I tried a billion times. And I did.
When I died, somehow, I was granted immunity to the very thing that killed me. God had decided that the threat that took my life was myself. Okay, I must sound really crazy right now--I can't stop laughing. Just-- just listen! Do you get it?
When I ran onto the street, I was Superman. Every car swerved from my body, an avoidance only rivaled by water and oil. When I took Mom's blood pressure pills and ate them the way you liked to eat those pop rocks, it was the same. Nothing. Even when I took the knife to my arms again, my flesh resisted. The death I became immune to was death by me.
So now I know the truth about God and his vengeance against those to commit the act of suicide. He didn't raise me from the dead, he sent me straight to hell. For living a full life with the chronic pain, of which there is no cure, no pills or injections worthy enough for relief, is the hell I have been condemned to for what seems like infinity.
I hate you, Katrina. If hate is too strong a word, then I will settle to say that I am unbearably jealous. When I found you here, pale but leaking the same pink red blood that I did from my wrists, my breath stopped. But you are dead, you are really, really dead.
I can no longer tell if I am laughing or crying, but my tears are not for you.
| 2014-05-17T09:02:31 | 2014-05-17T08:10:39 | 70 | 19 |
[WP] As the most powerful superhero on the team, no one believed you when you said you could quit the drugs, alcohol, and tobacco whenever you wanted. When the only friend you have on the team died on a mission, you sobered up for the first time in years. Now people will learn why you stay drunk. | He...he's gone. I can't believe it, my best friend. My ride or die. My brother, not by blood, but brother nonetheless, gone. I can still see the blood dripping off of Korzone's fist, each drop echoing in my mind. The look of satisfaction, the....*enjoyment* of having slain yet another hero. Then....the rest of my team just...bailed. They grabbed me and ran, defeat in their hearts. They couldn't process the loss of a team member, up until Korzone, they've never lost a team member.
Victory breeds hubris. And the team was full of it. Once back to our base Lilly and Terran tossed me into my room, literally yeeted my lumpy ass into my room and slammed the door. They thought they knew that I would need to dope myself up, escape into fevered dreams of unicorns and rainbows. It was a lie. Only Bobby, my only friend in this world, knew.
The drugs kept the darkness at bay, kept it behind a haze, always there, but unable to coalesce into anything. The copious amounts of alcohol helped me sleep. Nicotine helped keep my mind sharp against the rest of the pharmaceutical and illicit drug cocktail that kept that darkness, my true power, in check.
It used to not be this way, once, I was able to harness the darkness. No, that was a lie, too. *I* was the darkness, we were one and the same. There was no such thing as superheros back then, just vigilantes doing whatever the hell they wanted. It took a couple of decades for me to realize that it was easier to play on the side of the law rather than do whatever it was I wanted to do. That meant binding myself, and the darkness, to laws of the normies. That's when the darkness split, it did not agree with this direction. That's when I realized what that darkness truly was....desire manifest.
Internally desire and I waged epic battles. The battleground of my soul was chock full of the battle debris. Externally, I was nearly a vegetable. My body running on instinct, food in. Waste out. Water in, waste out. Shower? More like sit in a tub with the water on.
Bobby, he was the only person that I knew from our time as vigilantes. We met each other by happenstance, an incongruous meeting, standing in line for coffee. Got to talking and realized that we've crossed paths before, when our desires aligned. You see...he had the same curse as me, but somehow when we went 'legit' his desire didn't turn to darkness, like mine.
At first, he tried alcohol. Seeing positive results and lots of experimenting later, I was back, sort of. It took years, really, but eventually we landed on the current cocktail, and it's kept the darkness in a haze since then. I've been able to tap into the power to become part of a hero's team, they knew of my rampant substance abuse, but never knew why.
It was some years before joining the team, Bobby and I decided that I had made enough progress to align desire with our new direction and went sober. Hiroshima ring a bell? Atomic bombs were a cover story. Nagasaki, too. Ok, not Nagasaki, that was an actual a-bomb to help sell the cover story of Hiroshima. Vowed never again to be sober.
Until now. The haze prevented me from stopping Korzone, kept me from saving Bobby. I'd like to say that the detox process was quick and easy. It wasn't. Decades of use basically infused the chemicals into my cells, it was pure agony as I allowed my body to finally recover. The haze dissipated little by little. To keep the darkness somewhat in check I spent most of my time in my internal battleground. That and it was a coping mechanism, and escape, from my bodies healing process.
The rest of the team, I have no farking clue what they did or what they were up to. We were co-workers as far as any of us were concerned. They left me alone, only dropping off food and water, and making sure my other supplies were sufficient. Pretty sure they grew suspicious when they noticed my supply levels didn't change, oh well.
The day finally came and I emerged for the first time in I don't know how long. Months? No one was in the base, must be out fighting another crisis. The darkness and I are one once again, our wants are aligned for the first time in over eighty years.
At the entrance to our base I find Flick. She's injured and sitting against the wall, clutching her side. Her breathing is labored, I'm guessing a broken rib or three. She sees me and fear fills her eyes. It quickly fades to pleading.
"Korzone...he's too strong. Ever since...since Bobby died it only encouraged him. He's gotten stronger. I..I don't know where the remainder of the team is, but I knew I couldn't fight him, so I ran." She broke down into shame tinged tears. I have only one question, "How long?"
She doesn't bother to look up, but in between pain racked sobs she says, "3 months." I nod and walk past her, leaving the base for the last time.
My internal battles with the darkness over decades has strengthened both of us, the drug cocktail only serving as a sort of inhibitor to prevent either side from prevailing. Combined....combined....and truly sober...... | Starla watched Ozzie tumble into the Hero Squad break room and crash into the greasy old futon, it was something Alice had brought in one day to drag him onto when Ozzie would pass out during his afterwork private victory celebrations.
At first Victor had strongly objected to having such a cheap piece of furniture in his official little clubhouse but gave in shortly after Alice offered him the choices of Ozzie passing out on the futon or his thracian velvet couch.
Ozzie had been a mess for all the years Starla had known him, but it still shook her up to see him flopped down on the ground, tongue out, eyes rolled back, dry heaving and shaking as if he was about to have a seizure.
"You finally figured out how to drink a little too much did you now Ozzie?" quipped Mark, staring at the shuddering pile of rags and quivering withered out muscles in the corner and laughing. "The hell is wrong with you Mark?" Starla half whispered half yelled through her gritted teeth, glaring at the darkly dressed but mirthful super lounging by the TV, "how could you say that..." she lowered her voice even quieter "*after what happened... you know she was the only one here who was close to him*" she finished doubling her glare at Mark as her eyes glistened with a pained sorrow.
For a rare second Mark's devilish grin broke as he struggled to make a retort, an expression of frustration scrambling across his face settling into a returned glare masking the anguish that was smouldering inside him, "don't you dare talk to me about that! You of all people! If Victor had kept Count Lithias occupied for a few minutes longer, if you weren't so distracted making damn kissy eyes at him and had stopped that damn bolt from breaking through! As for this drug addled alcohol blooded piece of shit, the one time in 6 years his powers fail to work and it's Alice we lose, not Victor that soulless fucking smartass, not you you watery eyed little princess b--"
"THAT'S ENOUGH" a sudden deep shout echoed out from a corner of the room, Mark jumped back a blade in his hands, eyes glowering gold, Starla yelped in shock startled from her emotions, turning to the huddled pile in the corner. It was the first time Ozzie had ever spoken a clear sentence, or spoken to the two of them directly at all for that matter.
"Ahmjmnt... ahmot... ahm not mak" a tepid flittering voice sputtered out from the haggard figure still resting on the old bed.
"What did you say Oz? What are you not?" Starla asked, her voice quivering in a jumbled mix of shock, fear and intrigue.
"Hah, for a moment there I thought you'd learnt to talk Ozzie boy" Mark muttered backing against the wall, his eyes fixated as he quietly pressed a button on his collar.
The dim bleary eyes stared back ceaselessly, contrasted against a face pocked by scars and cuts and drooping lines, "ahm nott Mark" he spoke out, breathing heavily as if it took a chain to pull out each word, "aiym not drunk" he finished, clarifying with a strange pressure that made it clear it was not in question.
"I'm done th--" Oz began but stopped as he broke into a terrible wretching cough, he bent over chest heaving violently his mouth quaking as if his lungs were about to explode.
Victor rushed into the room "status" he yelled at Mark before hurrying over to Oz, he bent down and pressed two fingers against his shaking throat and two fingers against his chest. "I don't know, he came in and slumped on the futon like always but then he started talking, words, in English! After that he started getting like this, but what's happening to him? Isn't this just one of his usual fits?"
Just as Mark finished the sound doubled as a rapid thunderous coughing filled the room, Oz collapsed as his limbs started shaking violently with his body.
"Alice. Alice would know what to do, Alice always..." Starla shouted to herself as her beautiful face finally broke down into tears, lost over her feelings of grief and anger and loathing at her inability to do anything.
"It's okay Starla, things are going to be fine" with a rushed assurance, Victor gestured to Mark and grabbed the convulsing Oz, flipping him on his back and pressng his shoulders down "his breathings getting worse and worse but I can't tell what's causing it, his lungs are booming but there doesn't seem to be anything affecting it, his hearts barely beating but his vessels are unobstruct--" just then with a monstrous force Oz bent up and
PS. I have a shallow idea for writing this, but it's been a very long time and I forgot how slow my pacing tends to be, will get back to this again and again if I don't forget it before I manage to finish it, but until then it's just going to be half a writing excerpt. | 2022-12-28T09:14:46 | 2022-12-28T09:14:44 | 85 | 27 |
[WP] You are a famous hero, recognized far and wide. You stand before a locked door with an altar reading "sacrifice that which you hold most dear to proceed". You stand naked with all your belongings stacked on altar. The door doesn't budge. Your party is getting impatient. | The famous hero stands before the final gates. The final judgement. "sacrifice that which you hold most dear to proceed"
The hero stacks all of their belongings upon the altar, even stripping down all of their clothes and places them on the altar. "That is it, I have nothing else of value" the hero whimpers toward the gate.
But the gate held still.
"Unless" the hero says, hand hovering above the altar. "Do you think I am that selfish? That the thing that I most hold dear is myself?" The hero shouts angrily at the gate.
As if to make a point the hero steps onto the altar, standing beside their belongings. "I would do ANYTHING to pass!"
But the gate held still.
The hero sat on the altar, eyes wide in confusion. "This is all that I have, and I give it freely. Why won't you open?" They wondered, perhaps the altar was a ruse, a red herring? But that couldn't be, not in this place. There was no reason for it. No the test was true, it had to be. The hero sat for hours, giving the only thing they still felt they had left. Time.
But the gate held still.
The hero had fought dragons, stopped forest fires, helped the homeless. They had given everything they had every day of their life, and it felt like a trivial matter to do so again at the gate.
But the gate held still.
"I lost my family." The hero mumbled, but as they spoke their voice grew shrill and angry. I lost my wife, my children." The hero punched the door, tears running down their face as they shouted. "I have lost more than I could possibly place on this altar! Compared to what I have already sacrificed to get here I have NOTHING"
But the gate held still.
The hero fell against the gate, and slid to a sitting position. They saw the faces of everyone they held dear in the fog. They saw those who had been saved, and those who they had failed to save. "I have nothing left." the hero muttered over and over, occasionally testing the door 'just in case'.
The gate held still.
Finally, the hero stood. Crying. There was one last thing they had of value. Something they had forgotten about. Taking a sheet of parchment and pen from their belongings, the hero began writing. They wrote for hours, accounting for every detail of their life, every person saved and every dark hour.
The gate held still, but the hero knew it was waiting.
Finally the hero finished their life story. Except for one final detail. To punctuate the hero's autobiography the hero spilled the one secret that undermined everything that they had ever done. The one secret the hero had kept so close, that even they had forgotten for a time.
"I write here my life story, but not because it has value. I write my life story here so every item of the ledger is accounted for. I may have forgotten some, I have lived a long life, but it truly is all that I can list. This story has been stolen. It was never mine to tell, nor mine to live. "
The gate shuddered as if to confirm that this was what it wanted.
"I stole this life. I wanted to know what it was like to live a mortal life. I must admit it was no mistake that I chose the life of a hero. The quests I undertook were meant for a mortal to undertake. The lives I saved were meant for another, even the wife and children I had lost were meant for another. But I stole all of it. The hero was never born, because I stole their skin. I did not win against the odds. Every moment of this story has been stolen, and can never be returned." | I stared at the door. It was a beautiful door, intricately carved, but it was locked and I didn't have the key. I had been told that this was the way to the temple, but I didn't know what lay beyond the door. I didn't know what I was supposed to do.
I looked back at my party. I thought of the sacrifices they had made for me. The time they had spent in my service. They were waiting for me to lead them. They trusted me.
I thought of the people I had fought with, the ones I had left behind. They were counting on me. I couldn't let them down.
On the cold stone wall, my shadow stretched before me, reaching for the door.
I stared at the door. I could feel the power emanating from it, like a living thing. I could sense the altar on the other side, waiting for me.
I studied the altar again. It was a tall, wooden structure. It was dark wood, stained a deep red by the blood of sacrifices past. The altar had a platform, about two feet off the ground, with a book sitting open on it. The book was old, yellowing pages bound in leather. A single candle sat in the center of the book and cast flickering light over the altar.
I knelt down on the platform and placed my hand on the book. I could feel the power throbbing through it, pulsing into my hand. I could feel the life force of all those who had come before me, all those who had sacrificed themselves.
I could feel the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. This was my duty. This was my destiny.
I thought of all the people who had come before me. They had all sacrificed something they loved. Their families, their friends, their own lives.
I thought of my life. I had dedicated myself to my work. To being a hero. To making the world a better place.
I didn't have anyone close to me. No family, no friends, no one. I kept people at arm's length. I had nothing to lose and nothing to sacrifice.
As I stared at the door, I realized that there was something I cared about more than anything else. My need to be the best, to be the hero. To be loved and admired.
I shuttered. This was the way. The only way. Ignominy.
With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and got up. My party began to mumble confused as I gathered my things. They stared at me with confusion. Some with sympathy, others with pity. I felt their hands on my back, my shoulder, my hand. I heard their pleading, heard the worry in their voices, felt the fear.
"I give up," I said. "You must go on without me."
My party stared at me, speechless as I began to walk away. I heard my party call out, but I didn't stop. There were no goodbyes. I just was nobody now.
The door wouldn't open until I was gone, until no one would see the connection. My sacrifice would forever be a secret.
Outside the night is still. Banks of fog roll gently down the mountainside.
***
For more stories check out r/greypuffin | 2022-10-10T13:44:17 | 2022-10-10T12:07:38 | 169 | 23 |
[WP] You are legally allowed to commit murder once, but you must fill out the proper paperwork and your proposed victim will be notified of your intentions | The clerical assistant stamped the paperwork and handed the receipt back to Mister Henry.
"Thanks for coming in and filling this out. Mister Edwards has been informed via email-" Before the assistant could finish, the door of the small claims office was kicked in and a man soaked in blood appeared in the threshold.
"You can't do that! It's illegal!" complained the clerk. A bullet splintered a cloud of spraying wood from her desk and both the office's patrons went rigid.
"Retaliation rights!," Mister Edwards barked. He aimed his magnum at Mister JHenry, whose hands shook uncontrollably as Mister Edwards took his smartphone and showed it to Mister Jones. It had the email just sent to him by the clerk's office regarding Henry's intention of murder.
"A little late on this, don't you think? You're supposed to fill out the paperwork *before* you send an armed hitsquad to someone's house. Asshole," growled James Henry.
"Please, James- we can work something out- a- a promotion or maybe a-" Mister Edwards begged, sweat pouring down his brow. Two police officers moved near him.
"Sir, please come with-"
"RETALIATION RIGHTS!" Henry warned and kept his gun held over his head. The officers immediately moved away, nodding and accepting. Henry's gaze turned again to Mister Edwards.
"Nah uh, Marcus Edwards. I've been looking forward to this since the day you locked me in the copier room over night. I thought about suing your ass for improper usage of a kill order. It would be fitting for you to lose the only thing in the world that's precious to you- your fucking money. But, retaliation, frankly...is making me so much happier." Mister Edwards was crying. James Henry put the gun against Edwards' temple.
"D- don't I get last words?" Edwards compalined.
"You just did." A blood soaked bullet splattered red across the clerk's office wall. | The letter in his mailbox was a deep red, instantly signally what it was. With a shaky hand, he opened it, pulling out the folded papers, flattening them in order to read. A quick browse and he saw that it was all the legal mumbo-jumbo that was telling him who had filed it, what day, time, all that wonderful information that the victim got to know. The top letter wasn't part of the usual paperwork, a handwritten, short, only a few sentences though delicately written to be readable.
> You should have known this would happen, and out of everyone in my life that has caused me pain, fear, and just outright rage, you are the worse. The other will have theirs in time, but you are the one person I know the world could do without. I'll see you soon.
He drew in a breath, unable to settle he racing heart, and rubbed his face with his hand, blinking a few times. The mail truck drove by, stopping just past his driveway, and backed up, the person driving looking at him with a grim face.
"I have something else for you. I didn't just want to leave it here at the mailbox. Hang on." Slipping into the small truck, he emerged out the back, a box in his hand, the top open. Placing it before the man, he frowned. "I'm... I'm sorry," he said softly, quickly running back to his truck and taking off.
Before him, a box full of red letters.
-070 | 2014-03-17T08:23:17 | 2014-03-17T07:00:30 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] Living in a world of cartoonish supervillains and superheroes, the world gets quite the shock when a villain appears who sets the bombs to go off when they reach 3 seconds, dont care if his minions get the kill on a hero, always double-taps and in general ignores clichés | "...and no one will ever forget the name of 'The Scarlet Offend-'" BANG. The supervillain was cut off by a bullet that exploded the back of his head onto his minions as they scuttled about the bank, collecting jewellery and cash from everyone assembled. Everyone gasped, some in the crowd screamed in a shrill pitch, then all eyes turned to the shooter walking in from the entrance with a large duffel bag in one hand, and a desert eagle in the other. Dressed in simple jeans, a black t-shirt, black boots, and a trench coat, he sauntered over to the corpse of 'The Scarlet Offender' and, placing the barrel of his gun on the fallen villain's temple, pulled the trigger, making sure he was dead.
"You," the shooter pointed his weapon around at the minions, looking horrified that their boss was just taken out so quickly with no ceremony, "you all work for me now." One of them shook himself out of his stupor and perhaps from some misplaced loyalty or perhaps something else, he yelled defiance and ran to attack the newcomer only to fall flat on his face with an exit wound in the back of his head. Once more, the barrel of the weapon was placed on the temple of the fallen one and the other side of his head exploded outwards. "Anyone else?" the shooter asked the remaining pawns and they all shook their heads. "Good. Keep doing what you were doing. Make sure you get it all."
The newcomer walked over to the teller windows and pulled a smaller bag out of the duffel bag, thrusting it at the bank employee. "Fill it."
"I...I uh...What do you...?"
"I said fill it!" he pointed his gun at the woman behind the thin pane of glass and she took his meaning, starting to fill the bag with all the available cash in her drawers. From outside there came the sound of a sonic boom and a large gust of air blew in through the front doors. Once again, all eyes turned to the entrance of the building and saw the caped paragon of a yellow spandex-clad superhuman floating there. The shooter grunted and dropped the duffel bag. Before the hero could say anything, he unzipped the main compartment and drew forth a complicated looking device with a ticking timer on it. "Alright, Spandex, this bomb has 30 seconds left on it and it's powerful enough to take out at least 3 blocks. You can stop me or get this bomb out of the city. Your choice."
He threw the device into the air and the hero's eyes went wide. He flew through the space, grabbing the bomb before it hit the ground, sped out the doorway, and ascended into the sky as fast as he could. The shooter grabbed the bag that the teller was still filling and motioned for his new minions to follow him out. As he exited the building he gave a satisfied nod at the explosion that dominated the sky above. "27 seconds...right on time. Let's go! Your boss had a lair, it's mine now. Take me to it." With that, the minions set off through the city on their jetpacks with the newest addition to the underworld following behind in his black muscle car.
---
More at r/SamsStoriesSub | "He's on fifth and central," Caitlin Snow directed, and the Flash was gone. He enjoyed every minute of the chase-if you could call it that-and found himself becoming faster and faster with each passing day. He had been through a lot since his transformation and faced many powerful villains, so when heard that some normal guy just robbed Central City's bank single-handed... well he was going to have some fun with this bad guy.
He arrived at the scene instantly. Learning his lesson from previous encounters the flash checked the surroundings for traps-there was none. "Who was this idiot?", the Flash thought, "Doesn't he know central city is under my ward and no normal citizen can pull a fast-one on the fastest man alive?" Everything was cleared and the Flash was going to make his move.
The flash appeared right in front of the man wearing a mask and carrying a black duffel full of cash. The Flash was so close as to patronize the robber. The man was of medium statue and had a slight limp, but that's all: no super powers, no high-tech weapons, and no carefully laid traps. All he had with him was a 1911, .45 caliber pistol.
"Hi there!", the flash greeted "do you need a han-" Before Barry could utter another word the robber fired his 1911. The moment slowed down, not because the Flash was reacting at incredible speeds, but because he was going to die. The bullet was already embedded in his skull and any attempt to move away would just take the bullet with him. All Barry could do was think and think fast, but no action would save him.
"How? I can dodge bullets! I can run faster than bullets! I can run fast enough to travel back in time!" Barry's thoughts screamed through his mind. "How could I let this normal bad guy take me down?" Barry thoughts raced through his mind, and then he figured it out as his existence was blown out like a candle.
The robber never allowed him to finish his corny opener. All the other villains would never cut him off when he started talking; they'd even let him carry on a righteous monologue, and wait till he finished before acting. Even the villains who had the opportunity to kill the Flash stopped themselves to carry out their own monologue about how pathetic the Flash is. Those monologues were what gave the Flash and all other superheroes second chances, but not this man.
The robber limped quickly to a black Lincoln, and got into the back seat. As the driver took off the robber glanced at the corpse of the red suited man:
"This is easier than I thought," the robber stated.
"Yes, Mr. Söze." replied the driver.
-End
Gah, this played out so much better in my head, so hopefully no one reads it. Told myself I would start doing writing prompts, but I don't know anything about superheroes.
| 2017-08-15T17:44:54 | 2017-08-15T17:09:43 | 211 | 109 |
[WP] Your name, age, height, weight, and race all flash across the T.V. screen. You look in horror as you see your dead body being dragged out of a river as a reporter announces that you've been brutally murdered by an infamous serial killer who has been on the run for years. | I wasn’t normally one to watch the morning news, but today… something made me watch. I stared entranced at my televisions screen waiting for… I didn’t know what. I wasn’t sure what possessed me to watch the local news on this particular August morning. While sipping my coffee and curling my hair preparing for another day at work. I’d already roused the children and gotten them off to day care for the day. My darling husband had kissed me softly on the cheek before leaving for his job at the local news affiliate and I was preparing for another long day at the law firm I ran with my best friend from law school. The traffic and weather passed uneventfully and I was about to turn off the television when a flash of auburn hair caught my attention.
On the screen was a picture of a beautiful redheaded woman, striking blue green eyes and a kind smile. This caught my attention as I ran a brush through my own auburn hair. They had my attention now.
“A missing local woman was found today in the Ashley River. Clara Beth Page age 29 was found dead this morning buy boaters heading out into the Ashely River. Her body had likely been in the water for sometime. Ms. Page, a graduate student at the University of South Carolina was home visiting her parents when she disappeared several weeks ago. At this time we believe the Ms. Page is the latest in a string of victims of the Red Head Slayer. A serial killer who has been killing red headed women in Charleston South Carolina and the surrounding areas for the past fifteen years. There are currently no leads in her case.”
My smile faded as my name and details continued to scroll across the screen. The young woman had been found with her wallet in her pocket, her parents had identified the body. Her death was being attributed to a local serial killer who has been active in our area for many years. I think I’m safe. After all if my parents didn’t realize she wasn’t me, and her husband and children haven’t noticed that I’m not her… I think it’s safe to say that Clara Beth Page gets to stay dead, and me… well I can continue to live the life I stole from my doppelganger on the fateful night she was unfortunate enough to meet me. | A slight smile creeps across my face as I soak up the words pouring out of the TV.
I am finally free.
Years of working a dead end job, living paycheck to paycheck, being a disappointment to my parents, all over. I could run away. I've always liked the idea of living in the tropics. The beaches, going fishing, drinking fruity mixed drinks all day before falling into bed radiating away the days heat that I've soaked from the sun. What a life.
The TV anchor changes to a different segment, something about rising unemployment. I stop paying attention.
I walk back into my bedroom and immediately begin packing a suitcase. I grab a few tshirts, swimsuits, flip flops, and other necessities before the thought crosses my mind of how I am going to pay for all of this.
I kneel down and pull a large bin out from under my bed. In it is a stack of cash, around $20,000 I've collected over the years through various means. Next to it is a bag of surgical tools. I touch the tools lightly before returning the bin to its place under the bed.
Steeling my courage I finish packing then head back into the living room. The anchor makes another comment about the murder and this time I cant help but laugh.
The man they pulled out of the river did look quite a lot like me, and even had my teeth. But his body was waterlogged and a DNA sample would be inconclusive. Oh the police would think it was me, of that I was sure. One last murder, my magnum opus, if you will.
I was the serial killer, and I was on my way to Costa Rica. | 2020-08-01T04:36:30 | 2020-08-01T04:32:15 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | "The international community hereby charges you with War Crimes committed during the defeat of the so-called Islamic State. On your orders, a brutal campaign of destruction, fear and even forced conversions were taken place. Even civilians were not exempt. It says here that several mosques were torn down, often with people still inside them. Forced confessions of 'dealing with demons' gained through torture were obtained. Frankly I could go on for hours Mr. Felipe, but I would rather not. What do you have to say for yourself?"
The man leaned back into his chair. He took a moment to compose his thoughts before rising.
"Your honor, the proper term of address is 'Your Majesty.' I do not accept the change to the constitution. And as to the charges, I did indeed order every one. I simply ordered what needed to be done." This statement elicited a gasp from the members of the press. The man began again quickly, before he could be interrupted.
"You all saw the Islamic State and saw just another terrorist organization. I saw a rebirth of an old enemy. It was if Carthage had risen again from Libya and wished to wage war against Italy. So I had to fight fire with fire so to speak. The methods used were tried and true against just such an enemy in my own country centuries ago. They wished to fight a religious war, so I gave them one."
The crowd was dead silent. Nobody had any idea what to say. But the man on trial just smiled.
"Besides, nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition." | The dust settled, and a lone black boot came slowly into Major Thomson's view. Heaving a sigh, she raised herself up on her hands, only to be stopped by a swift kick to the ribs.
'Stay down,' came a voice in a thick South American accent, 'or we will strike you down'.
'W-Where am I?'
'You're in heaven, Ms. Thomson. As the last of the Islamic State group, it is our duty to execute you.'
'No, please!' she screamed, to no avail.
'Starting launch in T-Minus 10...'
'Is that a - is that a *spaceship launch sequence*?'
It was then that she realised where she was.
Strapped directly beneath the thrusters.
And as she looked up to see who it was that had wiped out everything she'd stood for, she thought she caught a glimpse of papal robes and the cross.
Vatican City had done it again.
EDIT: grammar | 2016-01-29T10:18:49 | 2016-01-29T05:00:31 | 389 | 144 |
[WP] You were abducted by aliens and enslaved. You think. Communication is a problem, but you have a collar, are required to do strange tasks, and if you don't comply you're sent to your really comfy quarters for the day. | I don't remember much of that day, but I was with my family when they came.
They were bigger. Stronger. They lacked all the proper limbs that we had. With minimal hair coverage across their towering bodies, it was amazing that had lasted this long in this cold, bright world.
I was plucked from my family at a young age and taken away by these creatures. They put me in a container and then onto a metal spaceship. We flew around twists and turns. Stopped and started at alarming speeds. I felt sick. Unsteady. Ever since that day I've loathed times when we've had to be transported.
I've grown since that day. Now I have tasks to do at their command. I can't quite understand them completely, but I think I've figured out what they mean. I'm unable to speak back to them and as such must communicate my needs in my own way. They've become accustom to interpreting them.
My daily tasks for the moment are to wait by the young creature as it eats. This is a good tasks for me. As I'm unsure when I'm going to get food again, I manage to get scraps the youngling discards.
I'm also to assist the grown female creature whenever it goes outside to do various things. I take this opportunity to survey my surroundings. I don't get to go outside the compound much, so when I do I absorb as much as I can and on the odd times I'm left unattended I've managed a few escapes. They never last long.
On the rare occasion I am permitted to go out beyond the confines of this compound I've grown to call home, the aliens attach a cord to my collar. They refer to it as a collar. To me it's just there. Sometimes it makes me itch. I can't figure out how to remove it though. The creatures seem fond of me wearing it so I'll allow it for now.
I do run into my own kind occasionally and it's always exciting. The large creatures usually communicate briefly in their own language before moving on. If I don't obey their cues in time I get reprimanded and more often than not, a sharp and violent pull on my collar cord.
On the days when I don't do my tasks efficiently enough or in time, I'm banished to my quarters. I sleep there. It's safe. Its comfortable and warm. I don't mind and some days that influences my decisions on whether I want to be obedient.
As I grow older, I've slowly begun to appreciate this arrangement. It's a good life. Being a dog. | At first I was afraid. *They* who had placed a collar around my neck spoke of the punishment as the worst thing imaginable. My mind ran wild, thinking of the many forms of torture that existed on Earth; whipping, flogging, electrocution, starving, poison, etc. I shivered at the thought of something that these much more advanced aliens could fear. However, curiosity got the better of me.
"What is this punishment like?" I asked, just as they were about to transport me to do my very first task.
The two fluffy aliens glanced at each other, their antennas standing upright in fear.
"We'll show you." One of them said with their adorable voice.
Oh, what I saw was truly horrendous. How could I sleep in my own bed after seeing this...this *paradise.* A floating bed, plushies of my favourite characters, a computer connected to the internet, everything I could possibly want in a dream all furnished into one. Oh, what a dream room it was.
"Oh, it's terrible. Let's leave this horrible place before we get nightmares." The alien shuddered and quickly, the doors to my heaven were closed.
"So..." I hesitated. "If I don't succeed my tasks, I get sent here?"
"Yes. So you better behave!"
I nodded, my mind still thinking of that paradise as I was once again reminded of the cultural differences of me and the aliens.
'Time to fail some tasks.' I thought to myself with a grin.
"Give the dog a treat." The alien commanded.
I looked at them, perplexed. However, they just nodded and handed me over a bag of premium treats. With a shake of the bag, the dog's eyes gleamed, tongue hanging out in anticipating and tail wagging happily.
Room, dog, room, dog, room, dog...Dog.
...I fed the dog a treat.
*Boohoo*, how can I refuse when it looked at me like that?
'Next time. I'll fail next time!' I told myself as I struggled to sleep on my normal not paradise bed.
"Pat this cat."
'Next time. Next time for sure.' I cried as I pet the kitty. | 2020-02-29T23:26:06 | 2020-02-29T21:22:50 | 131 | 56 |
[WP] You are Death, but in a post-apocaliptic world. Only a few survivors remain, and you're doing everything you can to help them because if the last human dies, you die as well. The survivors can't see you, but they feel your presence and noticed your effort. They started to call you Life. | Erica pulled the trigger. I stopped the shot before it fired.
“You’re an asshole,” Erica said. She opened her eyes and stared straight at me. She should not be able to see me.
I blinked and moved back.
“Don’t give me that,” she whispered. She shuffled onto her feet and dropped her shotgun at her side. “I know you’re here. I can *feel* you. It’s just us.”
She was not meeting my eyes, her gaze landed on my chest. Erica was fire. It was the only reason she had survived this long. Former military, young - but not young enough to be stupid, and no family to hold her back. I found her last winter. She lived in a cave in the mountains, by the mouth of a brook with a bubbling hot spring only a half mile downstream. She did not need my help, at least not as much as the others.
“I’ve felt you here before. Following me around,” she sighed.
Erica was cold today. Her eyes sunk into her skeletal face, framed by a broken halo of hair. Her left pinky and ring fingers were twisted and wrapped with blackened tape. This house did not suit her.
“I’ve heard rumours about you. Saul told me he saw you last summer when he was sick. He said he was lying there, wishing for it to all be over, and then he felt a cool hand on his back. He told me he thought it was Death, finally here to take away the pain. But darkness didn’t come. He could just *breathe* again, and walked away from his deathbed like it was only a head cold.”
Erica shuddered. The wind railed against the wall and blew through the shattered back window. “A few years back we were dropping like flies. All of us survivors - people who were smart and capable of living through the first wave - were just falling. Five years ago there were thousands of survivors. I could barely get through a small town without having to hide from looters. And then three years ago I didn’t come across a single person in all of New York.”
Erica was ice. Her voice rattled in her throat. It was true, though. Even the survivors could not hold back the tides. I am the only one who can.
“I don’t think anyone’s died since the winter before last.”
She was right. A year and a half ago I began to look for them and stood watch over the handful of survivors. I even guided them towards each other. A last hope for them. For me.
“Saul said that you were Life. I don’t think that’s true. Life knows when to let go." Erica’s head slumped forward. Her body shook with a sob. “I want to go.”
*No*.
“Please,” she whispered, “Just - just let me leave.”
---
/r/liswrites | I held her in my bony grip. "Elizabeth," I whispered through the ether, "Hold on."
"What's going on?" she screamed, half in horror, hanging from the cliff seemingly suspended by nothing, "Let me go! I want to die!"
Deep below her there lay jagged metal spikes, the remains of an insurance building mostly destroyed by a nearby atomic blast.
"Lizzie," I said, using the term I knew her mother had used before she succumbed to radiation sickness, "You're not alone. There are others. Trust me, keep walking, and you'll reach the settlement soon."
"I'm crazy," she cried, tears falling from her eyes while trying to wriggle from my grip, I was limited in what I could do. If she wanted to die then I couldn't really stop her. I found out that I could change their minds though.
"Elizabeth Darlene Simmons," I growled, cheating by using her mother's own voice, "Did I wander the wastelands for you to kill yourself? Did I fight off those mutants for you to just waste your life?"
"M-mom?" she said, her struggle lessening, "I want to be with you, mom."
"You can," I continued using the voice as I slowly began pulling her up, only because she was letting me, "But not now, Lizzie. You have to live. You have to find the others - fight, live, raise a family. Mankind must continue."
"Why, momma?" she asked and the question struck me like a fist.
"Because," I said with her voice, then I switched back to mine as I answered truthfully, "Death sucks. There is nothing beyond. Only darkness and nothing. I should know for I guide the souls to the door and have seen nothing beyond."
"Who are you, really?" she asked, and to my surprise she allowed me to pull her to the top of the cliff fully.
"Death, child," I said, "I am the personification of Death. I am... afraid."
"Don't worry," Lizzie said, her eyes narrowing as she held my hand tighter now, "I won't let go. Not as long as I have a friend."
I relaxed and held her hand. Together we walked across the barren landscape toward the waiting settlement. For some reason I wasn't afraid anymore. | 2018-05-04T12:08:57 | 2018-05-04T11:15:53 | 393 | 146 |
[WP] The outgoing President of the United States has written a letter to the newly inaugurated President. Instead of friendly advice, that letter contains the horrible truth that the public doesn't know about. Write that letter.
What is that horrible secret? | Hello, Mr. President.
If you're anything like I was in the first few weeks of my presidency, you'll be getting into everything and looking for answers to all the wacky questions you can think of. I now know where Hoffa is buried, who killed Kennedy, who performed the sex change on Norma Jean Baker, what's going on at Area 51 and a dozen other things.
It's all good fun, and your staff will brief you on whatever you want for any reason at all.
Trust me on this, though, none of it is as fun as it sounds before you know the truth.
The real surprises are about the things you'll never think to ask. This one blew me away.
The USA does not have a nuclear deterrent.
In fact, no one has The Bomb. It's not possible to make one. We've been lying about this since Hiroshima. The Soviet Union were lying. The UK and France are also lying. It is no longer possible to build nuclear weapons.
It *was* possible, thanks to a synthetic element fabricated by the Manhattan Project, but the scientists who created it used all of it at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. They were then not able to make any more. We still have no idea why it worked and why it doesn't. Our best brains think Oppenheimer and Einstein cooked something up between them to end the war with Japan but to prevent the USA and USSR mass producing weapons.
Nations that discover the truth end up on the UN Security Council. We collectively bribe them to silence, although some leaders are smart enough to figure out what would happen if some nations found out our ability to turn them into glass parking lots was entirely fictional.
We have faked every test, spent millions and millions of dollars finding a reliable way to give people cancer, the whole bit. We even fake up reactor disasters, just to keep people on their toes. It's all a lie. But it's a lie that has prevented the start of another world war for over fifty years and we think it'll be good for another fifty.
Quite a lot of your presidency is going to be taken up with finding convincing reasons why we can't just nuke the crap out of some rogue nation so I strongly recommend you ignore that Kennedy crap and get serious briefings done on the geopolitical situation around the world. You need to have your game face on 24/7 in case someone figures out the Big Lie. This is why presidents in office age so damn fast.
Good luck.
You're going to need it.
Best,
The Former President of the United States. | Good afternoon,
It feels good doesn’t it? All the stress of the race is starting to melt away as you sit in that chair and realize you made it. Hopefully I have already had the chance to congratulate you in person, but if not I’ll say it now.
Congratulations. It’s been a long fight but you came out on top. You deserve it.
I hope you’ll forgive my brevity. By now my staff will have briefed yours. Your administration is ready to take the reins. All that remains is one final briefing, and it’s not one that can be done in person.
There are certain pieces of information that must, for the good of the people, remain hidden. No, I’m not talking about the weapons or the weather devices or the cousins. You were made aware of these things weeks ago.
I’m talking about something else. This thing must never be disclosed, not even to your husband or closest aids. Only a handful of people in the world are privy to this piece of information. One of them will contact you if necessary, but if all goes well this is the last time you will ever hear about it.
As you know, it’s easier to establish a wireless Neurolink connection to people with a high percentage of body fat. I’m not sure how it works but the science boys tell me all that fat makes them perfect little meat antennas.
We need more antennas. To this end, it was decided that a certain product, marketed as a healthy substitute, would serve as one of a dozen “gentle nudges”.
Project Heavy Mamma’s primary delivery vehicle is I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter. The secret that you must never mention to another living soul, unless directly contacted by the Neurolink board of directors, is that it actually is butter.
Were this secret to become public knowledge the social fallout would be catastrophic. Americans need to believe that if they work hard and eat healthy they can lose weight. They don’t need to know that we are keeping them fat to facilitate large-scale crowd control.
Sincerely,
President Gore
| 2014-05-01T15:21:41 | 2014-05-01T14:10:21 | 89 | 11 |
[WP] Your parents used to say "As long as you are remembered, you will never die." The good news is you were happy to remember that when you changed the course of human history and everyone knows your name. The bad news is that was about 300 years ago and you'd really quite like to die now. | *[I'm sat at a bar, and there's 4 empty whisky glasses. I'm nursing another..]*
*[A man sits down beside me]*
**Man:** Tough day, ay brother?
**Me:** Tough fucking life, to be honest.
*[Sips from whisky glass]*
**Man:** It can't be that bad.
**Me:** It's my Birthday..
**Man:** Congratulations! Surely, that's a reason to celebrate. Barkeep, get this man anoth-
**Me:** I'm 348..
*[Man looks at me with suspicion]*
**Me:** I know it sounds crazy. Check this out.
*[I show the man my drivers license with DOB]*
**Man:** What? How?!
**Me:** Well you know the saying 'As long as you're remembered, you'll never die'?
**Man:** Sure.
**Me:** Well that literally applies to me after my parents had me cursed as a child.
**Man:** Bullshit!
**Me:** It's true.
*[The man still looks at me with doubt]*
**Man:** Alright then.. So what are you remembered for? It's been 300 years. I doubt anyone will remember me after 300 years.
**Me:** You know the self adhesive rubber bits on laptops that covers the screw holes?
**Man:** Not really, but go on..
**Me:** I invented those.
**Man:** And that means you've been remembered for 300 years?!
*[I angrily take a sip of whisky]*
**Me:** Nope.
**Man:** Oh.
**Me:** You know those ice cubes you buy which are plastic with some water in them and you just chuck them in the freezer to refreeze?
**Man:** Not really much of an icecube man.
**Me:** Yeah, nobody fucking is.
[Anger is simmering. I take another sip of whisky.]
**Me:** You ever thought about who invented the phone case?
**Man:** No, not really.
**Me:** Join the fucking club! No one has.
[I throw my whisky glass across the bar, and it smashes the mirror]
**Me:** But you fuck one sheep!..
| It has been a long since time since anyone has remember who I am, sure my name had been wrapped in immortality just like me, little children learn of my deeds all through school their memories of me preserving my life, but over 300years have past and to the nursing staff I'm just old Mr Jones.
Strangely enough I can not remember what I did, whether it was good or bad, how, or when, the dementia took that all away and all I am left with is the why, I wanted to be immortal.
Suzie has been very kind to me since started working at the home, although faces came and went, she is the only one I remember and look forward to. Suzie is patient in feeding and bathing me and cares enough to spend the extra time to make me feel like a human still.
I'd long since lost my ability to communicate but I hoped Suzie knew how much I appreciated her, my favourite past time would be when she reads to me, and I'm sure she sees my eye light up everytime she'd open a book.
Reading Suzie's lips had become harder over time, my eye sight was deteriorating as much as my hearing. "Living this long's not as wonderful as people think." Suzie read, "I mean, you get the same amount of youth as everyone else, but a great big extra helping of being very old and deaf and creaky"
I only wish I could laugh, I guess Sir Terry Pratchett knew a lot more than I did in my youth, all I wanted was immorality, and now all I want is eternal rest.
Well at least I have Suzie or at least I will for a little while. | 2018-02-08T07:16:25 | 2018-02-08T05:35:10 | 299 | 14 |
[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 joke, I knew it, the city knew it, the heroes knew it. Sure they had to adapt to whatever my latest superweapon was and overcome, becoming stronger, pushing the limits of their powers but they always overcame my latest scheme, I never got anywhere in the grand scheme of things. So, I was a joke, but the joke was on them. They thought I was a failure because I never succeeded in getting the money, the girl, the power, or control. I thought I was a failure because they never understood that I was training them.
It was my biggest frustration honestly. I could never get a single one of these heroes to look beyond their preconceived notions of good and evil and realize that what they thought were bumbling attempts to be villainous really prepared them for true threats. They never saw the bigger picture. So when the Void Menace, a serial hero-killer came to town I wasn't too worried. I sat back on my couch with some pretzels and a helping of hummus and watched the fight unfold via the innumerable surveillance drones that I had around town to record training footage.
Void Menace started by using his Absolute Zero move to ice the ground under our local speedster's feet. Classic move to deal with a super-fast opponent, nice opening but weak. Blue Shift merely vibrated at a rate that allowed her foot to phase about a quarter of a centimeter below the ice and into the ground, allowing her to retain perfect traction. I smirked, she'd learned that one when I attacked with my Blizzard Bombs last July. The resounding punch from the speedster rocked the villain sending him reeling.
Lady Crimson a dark-haired Amazonian was the next target of the Menace. Tendrils of pure darkness snaked out from every shadow and bound the heroine, wrapping and knotting around her limbs and body. Most heroes would try to break free with brute strength, and LC had plenty to spare but some bonds couldn't be broken by strength alone. After encountering my nano-reinforced, self-repairing plotinium chains a year ago though Lady Crimson, in reality, a lovely woman with two adorable kids, had learned to escape from bonds better than Harry Houdini himself. Menace roared in rage when she seemed to magically slide free.
Titanomax, the super-strong, invincible, flying member of the local supers took that moment to attack. Flinging shadows at the bruiser, the Menace temporarily blinded him, just like I had in 96 during the "Great Blackout." The hero's super hearing however allowed him to compensate. I did raise an eyebrow when the villain followed the attack by creating a void pocket and allowing the resulting pop to create a deafening sonic boom. Guess he's dealt with superheroes with enhanced hearing before! I laughed though as his eyes widened in surprise as Titanomax slugged him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of even that super-powered monster.
As Void Menace bounced across the concrete, cracking the ground with every impact I winced, then laughed as Titanomax gave a knowing nod to Electrix, the group's gadgeteer. I knew Titanomax wore sound discriminating earplugs ever since Electrix had captured the tech from me when he teamed up with the Silver Banshee to take me down during the Peanut Butter Heist of 07. In fact, I was pretty sure the whole team had them now, since they also served as GPS, com-link, and tracking devices that used quantum entanglement to be unhackable and unobservable.
I looked down at the empty bowl of pretzels. That was a mistake because when I looked up Electrix had a smoking rifle held up and a smug look on his face. I cursed and focused on Menace. I didn't see any wounds even as the brute stood slowly, coughing a little blood from Titanomax's last hit but still standing. He seemed to be considering his situation and I could tell his next move. He snapped his fingers. I'm sure he meant to use Void Stride, his ultimate teleport that could span light-years, but nothing happened. I put two and two together rather quickly.
Electrix had "captured" some anti-teleport tech from me a few years back. They thought I was teleporting into the bank vaults and then using the tech to stop any heroes from teleporting in while I robbed the bank. It took them a few tries to catch me and by then I had coated the inside of the bank vaults of more than half the city with my anti-teleportation tech. Actually how they caught me was a pretty good move on their part, you see... You know what, story for another time. Long story short Electrix had adapted it to be used on teleporting villains as those slippery buggers were some of the hardest to pin down.
I stood up and walked away from the screen at that point. I wanted a glass of water, the pretzels had made me so thirsty, and to be honest it was just wrap up by now. They'd throw him in the super-max jail. In most cities, I'd be worried about him getting out in under a week but I'd broken out of that place 138 times out of the 139 times I'd been arrested. Each time they improved security, closing the vulnerability I exposed to escape. The last time, well the last time I didn't escape. I was all set to retire to life in prison, safe in the knowledge my city and my heroes were as protected as I could make them, but one of the heroes had surprised me.
Titanomax, crusader of truth and justice just, let me go. I didn't ask why, maybe he felt sorry for me. I did see pity in his eyes when he did, and shame. I had hoped he understood I had never been out to do evil, but I'm not sure he did. I think he thought I was just some sad old villain who was past his prime and not able to keep up with the heroes of today. It made me sad to realize that they didn't even see how much stronger they had gotten. A lesser man would have worried they had gotten too strong, turned to villainy themselves. But all six hundred heroes I had raised over the last fifty years turning evil at once? Not likely. I sat on my couch with a cup of tea and looked up at my wall covered in news clippings and magazine articles of their many victories and triumphs and smiled. If one of them broke in now and saw the tribute they would likely think I was plotting revenge, but nothing could be further from the truth.
*EDIT: Thanks for the awards and upvotes! I'm very happy to see so many people enjoyed it! | “A visit from Marvelous herself. What an honor, huge fan of your train explosion last week, it just had that right amount of destruction, nothing too over the type, but enough to send a message. It’s a shame no one was on the train when it blew though, that’s tough luck, someone must have caught wind of your plan.” Crackle gave her a smirk from underneath his red and black mask, twisting the black outlines around his lips.
“Such a shame. This isn’t a welcoming visit Mr. Crackle; I don’t do fruit baskets and flowers like the other villains. You are in my town, not a hotel. If you want to keep living in my town, you will abide by my rules.” Marvelous said, watching as the villain frowned, his calm demeanor peeling away.
“Abide by your rules? If you didn’t know, I’m the biggest up-and-coming villain to date. The son of Francis Prowl, I’m sure that name rings a bell, didn’t he kick you out of your last town a few years back? Now, pay me the respect I deserve and shut up. Be a good little town boss and welcome me with open arms and maybe, just maybe. I’ll give you a slight cut.”
“My work in Central was finished. I didn’t have a reason to fight him for the territory. Speaking of people kicked out of town, didn’t the law boot your daddy into a nice cold cell? Don’t think I didn’t hear about that; your dad’s name is useless now. He isn’t a player anymore, not even a discarded piece. Now want to talk?”
“You bitch. I’ll kill you.” A spark erupted from the ground, leaping towards Marvelous, the villain having to rush to avoid the attack, spinning her body, allowing her foot to swipe Crackle’s, sending him flat onto his back.
“Kill me? With that? People stronger than you have tried.” She could smell the horrid stench of burning fabric underneath her nose, tapping at the mask until the embers extinguished. The lower part of her face being exposed by fire.
“Fuck you, it was a warning shot.” He groaned, holding his back, feeling the pain throbbing throughout his body, slow to get to his feet. When he caught sight of her face, he cracked another smile. “You have some wrinkles Marvelous. Been in the game too long?”
“I have, longer than anyone else. Yet, you seem to view age as a weakness. Are you forgetting I took you down without even using my abilities? An old woman did that to you.” She removed that smirk from his face, one instead appearing on her lips. “No killing heroes in my town. I don’t care what you do, but you don’t kill them. Injuries are unavoidable but death is a fool’s error.”
“Wait, wait, wait. You want me to not kill the heroes here? You know that’s my thing, right? I’m the one that left Micket Rocket dangling from that window. It was all over the news. Killing is my thing.”
“Not in my town. A villain strikes fear into the hearts of people, a fear that should keep them up at night, not one that lowers them into a grave. Do whatever you please, but don’t kill anyone, are we clear?” She lectured, not hiding her look of disgust for the man.
“No killing? Sounds like you have gone soft on us Marvelous. What do you think the others will think when I tell them this? You ever watched a nature documentary before? One where the young lion circles in on an old withering alpha? That’s me. I’m the young lion stalking my kill.”
“Lion? You are more suited to a cat, Crackle. A cat that hides in the shadows and attacks weakened animals. That is far more fitting for you. If the others have a problem, they are free to challenge me for this territory.”
“Heh, you think you are pretty clever. No heroes harmed. That’s how you want me to play? I’m going to go out tonight and kill as many as I can. Which one calls you, their rival? Galactic Swirl? I’ll have her hanging by midni-“
Crackle didn’t get to finish his words, the brick wall behind him lurching forward, melting around his body, wrapping him up in a messy substance. Whenever he would move, the wall would grip him tighter, until only his face remained out in the open. He shouted, balls of fire leaving his throat, missing her until the wall became too suffocating for him to even manage that.
“Snap, Crackle and pop.” Marvelous said, turning away from the sight as the wall crushed Crackle, eliminating the villain. “I hope you visited your dad last Father’s Day; It will devastate him to hear about this. I warned you. This is my city.”
Marvelous went to leave the scene, the wall before her opening, revealing the interior of a warehouse, her car stashed inside, having a plan for if things went sour. A sudden gust of air interrupted her getaway as a familiar blue cape swirled past her, landing on the floor.
She lifted the neck of her top, covering the burnt half of her mask, turning to Galactic Swirl as Marvelous stood in the middle of the wall. “Be a dear and get the cops to clean this up. I would fight you, but I’m too busy.”
“W-what did you? He..” Galactic Swirl froze up, the gruesome sight chilling the rookie, allowing Marvelous to close the wall behind herself, getting into her car while the hero was distracted.
“Sorry, dear, but this will be good practice for you. You will see worse later in life.” Marvelous wasted no time speeding out of the warehouse, escaping onto the street. Galactic Swirl could catch her if she wanted to, but Marvelous doubted the hero would want to fight after seeing Crackle. Fleeing to her base, expecting to see her name in the headlines tomorrow for this crime.
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-05-20T07:25:02 | 2021-05-20T05:52:51 | 795 | 279 |
[WP] Last names are assigned at birth by an oracle, and 90% of people find themselves in a related profession. For instance "Miller" or "Baker." Your last name, "World-Ender," has made life rather difficult. | "I'm sorry, but we can't approve you for a home loan, ma'am."
"Why?"
"Due to the implications of your...name, our insurance won't cover you should you...you know."
"If I ended the world from the house I wanna buy with this loan, your insurance wouldn't really matter, would it?"
"No, but...think of it as preventative."
"Oh, so you're stopping me from ending the world by denying me a home loan? I see. Your name must be World Saver then."
"Ah...no, it's-
"Banks, yeah. I can see the name plate." She scoffed, standing and taking her coat. She stomped out, leaving the door open as she shouted for all to hear. "AND BY THE WAY, I AM A COMIC BOOK WRITER AND ARTIST. THE WORLDS I END ARE *FICTIONAL*!!" | [Poem]
A name assigned at birth, a role, a calling to one's feet,
As Miller, Baker, Pâtissier, all make that which we eat.
So say that Mister Author dies one night while on a bender;
His fans will cry then dry their tears and call for me: World-Ender. | 2021-06-19T23:03:38 | 2021-06-19T20:30:40 | 36 | 21 |
[WP] "Matt, we love you, and that's why we're all here. But you have a serious hoarding problem!" "But I'm half dragon! It's *literally* part of my heritage!" | "Matthew," I flinched. Whenever my mother called me by my full name I knew there was a problem. Even though I'd moved out years ago, the automatic reaction was to duck and cover. It was no wonder she'd managed to stand up to, and seduce a dragon.
"We love you, and that's why we're here. You have a very serious hoarding problem." Her voice was stern.
"I'm half-dragon Mum. That's how it works. It's literally a part of me. Part of my heritage." She snorted at me, and I saw Silas, my half-sibling bite back a smile.
"Yes, and since your Father," she snarled the word. "Didn't decide to have any hand in raising you, or claiming you as his, you need to function in the human world. And as such, this hoarding thing has to be addressed."
"Yeah, we're worried about it." Silas put in, actually concerned. We'd always gotten along, even though he was much younger. I had been a product of my mother's wilder days, he was the child she'd had when she settled down.
"Look, I'm not hurting anyone. I keep my things orderly, there's nothing dangerous—"
"But look around you. Eventually, you're going to run out of room in this place, and it will be dangerous." She said. I smiled around the room, feeling the pride in the collection; the fierce desire to protect it at all costs. But I loved my mother, and I knew she was worried. More than that, I knew she was right. What I collected would get dangerous if I kept it too long in this place, if I ran out of room to properly store it.
"Well, what do you suggest? I won't get rid of it." I said, my voice dipping towards a slightly more feral growl. She raised an eyebrow at me.
"I never thought that for a second. Here's the plan..."
———————
I strode through the large building, smiling to myself. My collection covered the walls, rose from the floor, and even hung from the ceiling. I revelled in the peace of the main area before we opened for business. It was the grand opening gala tonight, and though this part of the plan made me nervous, I had agreed.
The night drew on, and I stood in front of a large crowd. Down in the front, my mother and Silas were smiling with encouragement. From the podium, I raised my voice, into a loud roar, another bit of dragon heritage.
"Welcome! One and all! To the Museum of Medieval Weaponry and Art. If you touch anything I'll burn you to a crisp." I paused, then chuckled at the faces. "Just my little joke. Come in and enjoy."
As the doors swung open, I smiled. Sometimes, mothers did know best. This was the healthiest way to exercise my hoarding habit, for what was the purpose of a museum but to conserve, protect and teach?
I met my family as the crowd flowed through the doors, and Mum gave me a giant hug.
"Well done Matt. I'm proud of you."
And those words were better than any collection could ever be.
— — — — —
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories! | The cockroach skittered between potential meals: some cheetoh crumbs, some old dried salsa, several sugary drink spills. The roach was joined by a few friends as they combed the great lands for sustenance to feed their progeny.
Matt snorted and coughed in his sleep, though the apnea did not wake him. Gold coins interlaced within his mattress dug into his leathery flesh. Aside from the treasure hidden within his mattress, Matt had a number of personal affects that would be worth a sizeable quantity to any interested collector: half a dozen boxes of old pizza, eight jars of high grade dragon-human piss, piles of empty mountain dew two liters, a mountain of take out trash, primarily from Panda Express, though with a small smattering of many fast food joints.
Matt took care of his treasures, occasionally dusting off the old pizza slices. He appreciated the scavengers who picked the treasures clean of their rot.
The alarm clock went off with a harsh breep, and Matt turned it off in one swift motion. Matt snoozed as the roaches crawling across his belly finished their meals. Several ate a long swipe of cheetoh crumbs, when Matt had been too lazy to wash his hands. A few more tried to slurp some sugar from a doctor pepper spill near Matt's lapel.
\---
A gentle knock came from the door: bum, bum, badum, bum.
Matt struggled to sit up in his reclining chair, the damn thing was practically broken.
Matt opened the door to protests from the hinges.
"Hello, sir. How are you today?" The pizza delivery boy's face looked funny, and he kept stealing glances at Matt's belly, to his army of cockroaches scurrying around looking for food. The boy stifled gags as the apartment smell flooded from the room: a pungent aroma consisting of old cats and rotting food.
"Doing fine."
"Signature, please, sir." His outstretched hand held a receipt.
Matt stiffed the boy before taking his pizza.
\---
After his shift, the pizza boy called adult protective services on Matt, concerned for his wellbeing, certain he was being neglected by his family in his old age.
Matt bellowed in anger when the social worker showed up, expecting a potentially mentally disabled old man and instead getting a thirty-something half dragon-man.
"It's okay, sonny. We have resources to help." The stupid old bag had said, and Matt seethed.
"I don't need help! This is me! This is how I am supposed to be!" Matt had screamed at the stupid cunt before slamming the door shut.
Matt sat down on his couch, ready to settle back into Always Sunny. He watched the cockroaches on his belly, and imagined them as Mac and Dennis and Charlie, just some boys up to their hijinks.
Matt smiled as he sat in his fortress. | 2022-09-04T11:23:03 | 2022-09-04T10:12:31 | 71 | 13 |
[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors | *Just one more post, then I'll head to bed. So many purple links. The only blue links are from r/TIL, but seriously, who actually opens those?"*
I take a sip of my coffee, struggling to work up the motivation to walk 10 feet to my bed.
*Perhaps, I'll browse r/new for a bit. I mean someone has to do it, right? Maybe I'll get a top comment this time. *
Scrolling down, I nearly missed it. "Aliens Invade! Redditors Unite!"
*PFFFT! Just some karma whore, I'm sure of it.*
A quick look at the comment history and I see 3,423 post karma, but no 1 year trophy.
*Alright, u/Lightly_Saltedd, What do you have to say?*
Aliens have invaded all of the world's capitals and are demanding information. At the time of this post no one had yet found out what they wanted. I refresh the page and see that the article has been updated. Aliens have begun slaughtering people they find useless to their cause. All of the world leaders and their families are dead, and they've moved on to entire populations, save for some. Nobody understands why. Maybe they were lucky. Maybe they planned ahead. Maybe they know something everyone else didn't. Either way, one thing is certain: it wasn't by accident.
Stunned, I rush to the window. Outside it's eerie and quiet. Cars are empty, the streets are abandoned, and there are clothes all over the place. I'm still here, but why? I have to find answers.
I head back to my computer and refresh the page. Hundreds of new posts have popped up, all reporting on the story, but one in particular catches my eye.
**"We are responsible for the decimation of your species. If you are reading this, you've been left alive for a reason. AUA."**
My hands are shaking so violently I can barely type, but I must get the question out.
*"Why have you left us alive?"*
**Because within this userbase is the answer to our question.**
*What do you want to know?*
**What's inside the safe?**
| I saw scores of men fall in the surge...
To xenomorphs and doggo-aliens that had merged.
I saw the tides of battle wane
I saw our leaders, galore, fall into the hands of their leader
I saw our efforts go in vane
I saw them treat us like a mobile feeder
We danced and screamed like a chew toy
Until the only one on the streets was a punk boy
Crying out to fight, these hellistic demons galore
And when his voice was still
We all gathered and bore
A similar mark til'
The end of time we shared
This mark of which we bared
It's called being "redditors"
we certainly aren't "predators"
But by God we'd win the fight
and we would make them run
into that dark starry night
With our mind guns
Larry was a furry
And Jane was a writer
Maxim's job was blurry
but we think he was a keyboard fighter
James was a bonds man
And Carlos had /nosleep
Mishka was a Russian fan
Ron liked going shoulder deep
Somehow this band
of brothers and girl
Would stop a fight that spanned
from galaxies to Belgium
and Jane could hurl
a grenade into an engine
using her trebuchet.
Boom went the ship
Floating down from space
Janes hand went to her hip
and said "There goes a race"
Maxim sat there laughing
And Carlos said with glee
"I'm going to go on slashing
up a story about...me!"
Mishka fought a bear,
And james just said goodbye
"With a head of hair,
I bet that I can lie.
The name is bond,"
he said, and off he went
We weren't too fond,
of that man and how he spent
His time, his money, hell, his life.
But then came Larry,
and James wasn't actually that bad anymore. | 2017-05-31T08:14:37 | 2017-05-31T05:43:43 | 247 | 117 |
[WP] Humanity has been eradicated. As the alien race that killed us begins to settle they're shocked to discover that old Earth myths of spirits and demons are far from fiction. The Devil, pissed off at the aliens, has decided to open the gates of Hell and let humanity get its revenge. | What happened to our souls when we died?
For so long, we joked about it, perhaps to make death a little scary. We said that even if there was a river Styx, the pearly gates, or a purgatory where we were made to live through our sins, we would never know.
Well, the secret's out now. We still didn't get to tell a single living soul though, because every single one of us was dead.
What exactly happened? None of us knew. From what I've gathered, we were doing normal human stuff. Mundane things, like sleeping. Or going to work. Or staying at home but still working. Life actually kind of sucked, eh?
But in one instant, we died. We found ourselves staring at each other's ghostly shades, our minds and bodies still preoccupied with its previous tasks. All we could do was gaze horrifically upon our new forms, slowly realizing that this was now permanence.
We had nothing to do but trudge. Through the gates of hell. Through its numerous tortured inhabitants, gulping at what we were surely, soon to be going through. Until we reached the burgeoning throne room of the Devil himself.
"If you don't mind me asking," the Devil, with his large red horns quivering in response to the seething rage he had found himself in, said. "What the hell is happening?"
We could not talk. We were but shadows of our former selves, left without the human propensity for interaction and speech. The once-humans merely stared and looked as an imp scurried towards the Infernal Lord himself, whispering in his ear.
"Everything... gone... aliens... invaded," the Devil muttered, nodding periodically.
The imp backed away from the Devil, bowed respectfully. Satan sighed.
"This is very obviously a problem," the Devil cried. "These souls are ruining my carpet. Not to mention the severe lack of room that was already an issue before every single human soul decided to implode."
In anguish, we moaned and groaned. But we still could not speak.
"You know what?" Lucifer said, suddenly standing up. "Screw it. I'm here because I broke the rules. What are they going to do if I broke a few more, send me to Hell?"
He beckoned towards the imp once again. A hushed exchanged was whispered, before it evolved into an increasingly intricate chain of telephone. Before long, the whole hall was buzzing, with imps and familiars flitting all about the place.
"My dear lost souls," the Devil announced. "I don't like you guys. I don't hate you guys either, but right now, I'm really disliking the fact that so many of you are here, while apparently Heaven isn't still at max capacity. What have you humans been up to, eh, besides dying to an alien invasion?"
An alien invasion? The collective's roars grew in an amorphous cacophony and the Devil realized that he made a mistake. He coughed suddenly and loudly, bringing up a fist to hopefully quench our misery.
"OK, spoiler alert, I guess. Basically, aliens got their overdeveloped hands on you, and your underdeveloped minds basically exploded. Honestly, I appreciate that you guys are doing no good. But having every single one of you here at the same time is frankly making me very claustrophobic. And since I can't send you guys to Heaven..."
We heard the groaning of chains and metal. By instinct, our heads turned, like we could feel the breeze from the mortal realm gently caressing our spectral necks.
"I know you guys haven't been here very long, and I certainly won't miss you," the Devil sniffed, wiping a mock tear away from his eyes. "But go and give those damned aliens hell."
A tidal wave of phantoms flooded out of hell. Without human desires and ambition, civilization and society was no longer a concern for this mob of ghosts. In death, we had but one mission:
Haunt and kill every living thing on Earth.
---
r/dexdrafts | Far away, a ceremony was being conducted. As the conductor appeared before the crowd, he lifted his baton, signaling the rows of singers behind to begin their melody. All those there believe soundly that the expedition and conquering of Earth was going smoothly. The media had announced that the last human had since perished among the fighting.
The two sides of the coin were anything but close to peace.
Ashes wafted into the air from where the Mythicals of Earth stood. More of them would soon arrive, eager to show their true colors. The Devil had given the ultimate command only a short while ago.
*“Humanity has fallen. It is our turn to show our faces.”*
On the opposite end of the ashes, the invaders hung back, attempting to reconnect with the homeland. Attempt after attempt proved futile, their homeland was embroiled in a ceremony of sorts to celebrate the conquering of another celestial body.
The invaders were walking in blind now. They had no clue of their enemies’ descriptions, aside from a few short tales they gathered. There were no assigned missions, the only goal was to defend and ward off the enemy. The enemies were taken back by the unprecedented force of the Mythicals. Unfortunately, this platoon knew their demise was fast-approaching.
Back on the land of the invaders, the melody still carried on. The citizens were oblivious to the mess occurring far away from them.
The invaders tried once more to contact their superiors. They at least hoped that their message would be heard, even if they were eradicated here, surely reinforcements would be sent to combat this loss. The enemies of Earth were at a dead end now. With no real option, they set their sights on one task: destruction. If they couldn’t have Earth to themselves, then the opponents would have none of it either. The group of invaders congregated one final time. They were bound to destroy the structure in front of them.
On the opposite side of the structure, surprise manifested itself among the guardians of Earth. They gazed forward and saw what only could be a nightmare for humanity. One of humanity’s greatest structures was beginning to crumble. Little planning was required. The Devil’s forces launched into an assault against their enemies.
\--
On two thrones, the two leaders sat. From one side of the universe to the other, they continued to observe the carnage from their pretty little perches. This set of invaders had been squashed, but the Earth’s forces suffered tremendously too. Back on Earth, rubble and debris clogged the atmosphere now. Smoldering ashes of what once was the final of the original Seven Great Wonders of the World were scattered between the two sides.
Yet, there was a lack of remorse that was shared between the enemies.
Of course, the invaders could not have known of the beautiful intricacies that Earth once carried, but neither could the Mythicals know it either. They both failed at a simple saying that humanity carried: Before you judge a man, walk a mile in his shoes. Neither had experienced human life. One side had never been to Earth before, while another had remained just simply as a clustering of spirits trapped away in a cloak of invisibility. They could've never appreciated the value we hold for certain structures.
While neither could know it at the time, when asked the question that could change the tides of this event, the two leaders both uttered the same line, “Yes, I would like to continue the battle. We will not stop until it’s won.”
The spirit to be competitive is universal it seems.
r/CasualScribblings | 2020-09-18T08:16:56 | 2020-09-18T08:08:08 | 141 | 56 |
[WP] An evil league of villains is shocked as their newest member questions some of their practices, such as always telling the trapped hero their plans and operating from an incredibly suspicious, skull-shaped castle next to a volcano. | "What?"
Stealthdude looked in bewilderment across the room.
"I thought that my presentation was pretty clear, right? Or do you have questions?"
The members of Men and women of Absolute Doom stared at him. Some were laughing nervously, others were just shaking their heads and a few were actively smirking at him. Finally the chairman, a burly man with greased hair, stood up and coughed to silence the room.
"Look, kid, who do you think you are? Just because you became a MAD member at 21 doesn't mean you can just come in and change everything we stand for. Everything that MY grandfather, Pope Benedict, may the father have mercy on his soul, has accomplished. And what's with that name? "Stealth dude" or whatever is was?"
"Yeah, it's Stealthdude because, you know, I'm stealthy. You could learn a thing or two from that. I've robbed more banks than all of you combined, I've got Megaguy's pet robot dog's head as a trophy on my wall and shagged Awesome Woman before stealing those stupid bracelets, just to let you guys know I'm serious. And if it wasn't for HER," pointing to Fur Girl, "I would also have laid my hands on Kitty Cat's pet leopard for her to turn into a fur coat. But no, miss Fur just HAD to come barging in and explain EVERY detail of my plan, yes MY plan, to Kitty Cat. What the hell were you thinking!?!" Stealthdude glared defiantly to Lord Evil. "I told you I work best alone, but you guys just had to ruin it by letting me babysit that stupid cunt!" Fur Girl started to sob. "See? She can't even accept the fact that it was HER fault that the plan failed! All she can do is wine about how she now can't have that magical coat. If she would've shut the hell up, she would be wearing it right now!"
The table sat in silence. One of the other younger members, Hackboy, slowly stood up. "Well, I guess Stealthdude has a point... I mean, life hasn't exactly been easy for me since I had that MAD issued mountaintop lair with enormous satellite dish. I don't even need that thing, you know..."
Lord Evil pointed his Doom Ray Gun at Hackboy. "**What is wrong with the lair? Don't you like it? Isn't having your own killer typewriter monkeys enough? Answer wisely, boy!**"
Hackboy swallowed hard and receded back into his chair. ^"Nothing, ^Lord ^Evil, ^I ^like ^my ^Killer ^Typewriter ^Monkeys... Hey... Where did Stealthdude go?"
Lord Evil blinked his eyes and looked to where Stealthdude had been standing only seconds before. All that greeted him was that perfect EvilPower presentation with the nonsense about not needing elaborate lairs and such... "Gha! I knew it! You see, this was all part of my plan! That boy handily got us the funds we needed to build the next Apocalypse Palace! Besides, now that Stealthdude has been cowered into submission, we can use Awesome Woman's bracelets and Megaguy's dog's brains to build a powerful army to eradicate all those stupid heroes once and for all! No one can stop u"*gurgle*
Stealthdude had taken the opportunity and had stealthily moved towards the front of the table, covering under his cardboard box. A single, swift motion was enough to slit open Lord Evil's neck, sending the megalomanic man to his grandfather... wherever the heck that would be. He removed the large man from the chair and sat down. He waved away the stupid looks. "See? That's what I meant. He goes all like, "hear my evil plan ha ha ha", and look where that got him. Enough of this crap." He tapped on the buttons of the console in front of him. The complete room went into lockdown, and a new presentation started. "Those funds were used, in part, to make this room hero proof, because I've had it with The Seer listening in on our plans and practically stopping them before we even got started. From now on, you will al refrain from telling our enemies everything they need to know, and you will all be reassigned to new parts of the globe with far less interesting lairs. Yes, you can keep your Pets of Doom. Don't look at me like that." Chemical Diva had been staring with a new sense of purpose since Stealthboy had slit Lord Evil's throat. "You're way too old for me, and besides I have a shag-a-ton to finish with Kitty Cat; she will make a fine ally once I'm done indoctrinating her. Now if I can have your attention to the screen? We have a world to conquer..."
*****
Great prompt, you'd wonder why nobody did something about it! [Head over to my personal sub if you like what you're reading!](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheAlcove) | *Mature language ahead.*
_____
"What do you mean *secret*?" Jeremy threw his hands out towards the window, "We're in a goddamn volcano and you made it in the shape of a skull!"
"I don't see the problem," Dr. Reginald stroked his cat and shrugged. "Every villain in the world has a secret base of operations. Usually, *in* a volcano."
"That's exactly what I'm saying!" Jeremy stood up and faced the league of villains in front of him. Every single one in the world had arrived at the Summit. Reginald the Mad, Catherine "Cypher" Crane, Atom Commandant, and Baron Sabre, or Ian as he was known here. "All of you build these outrageous, and quite frankly, conspicuous evil lairs, just for your enemies to find you."
"But, to be fair, we handle them pretty well," Cypher said.
"Cypher, you had your 'hero' hooked up to a game simulation and made him solve puzzles to escape."
"Yeah! But they were really *hard* puzzles."
Jeremy rolled his eyes. "And revealing your plan within the game?"
Cypher shrugged as she typed away on her phone. "I figured he wouldn't get that far."
"You gave Hacker, the hero's name by the way, three lives! Three *fucking* lives! Any person worth their mettle could have solved that game!" Jeremy sighed heavily, trying to take in the fact that every villain he met had these great plans for world domination that would be foiled because they would *tell* their respective Hero the plans they had spent months, or in some cases, years on.
"Jeremy, look. We do things a certain way around here," Baron said. He took a sip of his coffee, adjusting the large blade on his belt as he did so. It always got in his way, Jeremy noticed that was one of his faults as well. "Our plans are very precise. We prepare for every outcome."
"Except the one that always happens." Jeremy placed his hands in front of his face and shook them. "As in, the hero escapes your crazy, weird death scenario that you make up, and then defeats you."
"To be fair," Atom Commandant said, "I was never going to launch those nuclear weapons in the first place. That's too much paperwork for my goons to handle, besides, I would have taken out a large income stream for the Villains."
"You're kidding me? Your name is Atom *Commandant* and you won't use the Atom?"
He shook his head. "I have no interest in destroying the world, J."
"Neither do I! But all of your plans revolve around that *one* idea!"
Reginald laughed, "Oi. J does have a point there, Atom."
"Oh, shut it *Doctor*. You're as discredited as Aristotelian physics."
"They have it out for me! Doctor Poreut is after me!"
Jeremy slammed his hands on the table. "Doctor Poreut is the hero your always fighting!"
Everyone stopped and looked at Jeremy, their eyes wide-eyed and confused. Cypher even stopped texting on her phone to look up and pay attention to everyone.
"Doctor Poreut is the Righteous Doctor?"
Jeremy fell backwards into his chair and face-palmed. "Christ, people. You are some of the worst villains I have ever had to work with."
_____
*Meanwhile at the Hall of Heroes*
Several heroes were gathered around a large round table. Behind them was a large monitor with the image of a volcano and a skull-shaped based carved into the side of it. The text below simply read *Reginald the Mad's Secret Lair*.
"Congratulations to the Righteous Doctor for finding Reginald's *secret* lair. We wish you the best in taking him down once again!"
The heroes raised their glasses and Righteous Doctor, whose symbol was a large vial filled with blue liquid, smiled. "Thank you all! I am prepared for anything the Mad has to throw at me. Including hanging me from the top of the volcano with no 'real' escape!"
The heroes laughed and threw back their drinks. A few of them patted the Doctor on the back. But for the most part, they just continued to drink and be merry. Besides, with all of their villains too busy at a Summit at Reginald's secret lair, they had the weekend off!
"Hacker! Did you order those strippers?"
Hacker smiled a big, bright smile, "You bet your bright ass I did Charging Ion!"
_______
*I had fun! Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for the prompt! /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more of my work!* | 2016-05-14T10:40:22 | 2016-05-14T10:32:36 | 42 | 28 |
[WP] The year is 2024 and 3 children in a trench coat have taken office, but no one can tell that they are kids, hilarity ensues | **Has-Been Celebrity Slams New President**
Written By: Tom Jumbo-Grumo, MSNBSea
Los Angeles, CA - Shocking millions and surprising no one, has-been 90s celebrity BoJack Horseman slams the newly elected president, Vincent Adultman.
Vincent Adultman, running the most successful campaign the Republican party has seen since himself in 2016, took Hollywoo by storm last year when he declared his intent to run against Democratic nominee Hillary Clinton who was quoted saying "If I lose to one more white male I swear..."
What she swears we might soon know as Adultman prepares to take office. He ran on a platform of "Good business and foreign policy and stuff" and charmed his way to the top of the American polls.
But not all were charmed. Horseman, known for such roles such as Secretariat in the acclaimed film *Secretariat* and the Horse from the classic 90's sitcom *Horsin' Around,* written by the belevoed Herb Kazzaz, took to twitter to air his displeasiure.
[@BoJackHorseman: Seriously? Seriously no one is going to talk about how our president is just 3 children stacked on top of each other with a broom for a hand?](https://41.media.tumblr.com/e8e9e6adec21161347a1f82972550e1a/tumblr_nsw1i94qrM1r46f4yo1_540.png)
This comment was not received with favorable remarks from the Hollywoo crowd who worked so hard to rally the country to elect Adultman as Horseman was viciously attacked on twitter.
“It’s like he doesn’t even care about our country,” Neal McBeal, campaign manager for Adultman, said. “Just like he doesn’t care about the troops.
We reached out to the new First Lady, Princess Caroline, to see if she had any comments on Horseman’s statements but her assistant Laura merely left us on hold for an hour.
Horseman hasn’t been seen since the comments, his Hollywoo mansion was left abandoned and his roommate Todd told reporters that he was not there. He is rumored to be staying with longtime loyal friend, Mr. PeanutButter but where the two are hiding is a mystery to us all.
We at MSNBSea want to wish a hearty congratulations to President Adultman and we look forward to covering all of his business exploits in the future.
| The former president was a strange man. For one, he could often be heard whispering to his crotch and mid section, informing his body parts "Shhh! They'll catch on." On another note he always seemed to be wearing glasses without frames, maybe I'm just a bit out of touch with today's fashion and I was just thinking a little too deeply in to this, but never the less, it appeared odd. His face was astonishing, if I didn't know any better I would say that he was still a boy, it showed no signs of aging whatsoever. His nose seemed to attach itself to the frames of his glasses, and his mustache seemed to attach itself to his nose, and what was startling was that at first glance his nose seemed to be a different pigment in comparison to his skin, and even more startling than that was that he clearly lacked nostrils. His sense of dressing was just as odd, he always wore a trench coat that seemed too large on sleeve length, and rather than wearing formal shoes he seemed to enjoy wearing light up Spider-Man sneakers. The president was a strange man, but he was a good man, which makes this whole ordeal much more tragic. He quickly won the vote of the nation through his campaign to push the agenda of free video games, less school work, and more allowances, he was a truly visionary man. At his final rally he stepped in to the crowd to greet and shake hands with the attendants of the rally, that's where it all went wrong. A woman, in her excitement to greet the president, tripped, causing her to violently fling forward and collide with the president, ripping his entire mid section clean from his body. This is where the presidents dark secret was uncovered. A small child fell to the ground, unknowing to neither I nor the rest of his agents, the president was bearing a child. The president dropped about a third in size, froze for a moment, and ran off along with his incredibly athletic newborn, trailing just behind him. He was never seen or heard from again.
| 2015-08-10T12:45:40 | 2015-08-10T10:13:30 | 194 | 57 |
[WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened.
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | I could have been a Khajit, or an Argonian. At the very least I could have gone a mage or stealth build so I could summon Daedric beasts or pickpocket unsuspecting people. But on my sixth play-through of Skyrim, I decided to play as a Redguard. That’s right, instead of choosing one of the cool beastial classes, I just chose a human. To make it worse, I was a two-handed brawler Redguard, meaning I threw all my perk points into swinging harder and having more stamina, instead of putting points into spells like throwing fire balls, healing, spewing ice, etc.
I mean, to be fair, I didn’t know I would absorb the powers of my character, and although I definitely got the short end of the stick, I can still use two-handed axes and swords pretty well, I can carry around a seemingly limitless amount of stuff, and I can instantly eat food to heal myself. Oh, and I can also shout in Dohazul, the dragon language, which causes weird stuff to happen.
Of course, when a thousand people were given superpowers, chaos erupted. Governments tried to control the individuals, and personal quarrels became large-scale, destructive fights with many casualties. I tried to lay low, but when the fighting started getting close to my city, I couldn’t just sit still.
Mario was far away, but I could still see him. In fact, standing six-hundred feet tall, everyone in the city could. At first, everyone thought Mario was one of the weaker ones, but as he discovered the millions of mushrooms on Earth to feed his unlimited potential for growth, he quickly became one of the most feared. Standing on the ground with my four-foot long battle axe, I had no chance to fight him directly, but I had a plan.
“Hey Buddy, why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”
I was far away but I was blessed with the power of being able to shout ridiculously loud. Mario looked right at me, and didn’t say anything, but started sprinting, beelining towards my way, trampling through city blocks as I prepared my vocal chords once again.
“OD AH VIING!” I remembered the words from my hundreds of hours spent playing Skyrim. This, in Dohazul, the dragon language, meant Snow Hunter Wing, and summoned the mighty dragon Odahviing, who would definitely be strong enough to destroy Mario. As soon as I uttered the last syllable of the shout, everything turned silent, and the air grew thick. I knew what was coming and excitedly waited in anticipation to watch Mario get completely obliterated. In the distance I heard Odahviing’s roar—or, wait, why is it so high-pitched?—no, it’s a horn?—is that a train? As Thomas the Tank Engine massive smiling face came soaring from out of the clouds, I remembered that I had actually modded Skyrim during this play through.
“Shit.”
The Thomas the Tank Engine mod, which turned all dragons into Thomas the Tank Engine, was one of the most popular Skyrim mods, and I decided to try it just for fun, and now I’m fucked. But Mario was still approaching, and while it’s no Odahviing, Thomas the Tank Engine was still a force to be reckoned with. I prepared my weapon, and charged right towards Mario.
“Toot toot Motherfucker” | The thing is, there's a lot of video games these days where the tutorials sorta guide you by the hand, and not everything is unlocked when you play it. Sometimes, not until the very end.
The thing is, there was this fad for a while of cover shooters where the people were basically invulnerable, as long as they took cover for a moment and waited for the red to die down. But they had, what, one gun? Maybe two? Good luck finding a vehicle level in real life. Or cover, these days.
The thing is, all the people who were playing lootbox mobile gacha games got shafted, hard. And not just by the lootbox mobile gacha game developers.
The thing is, being a gamedev *now* is something akin to being an indentured nanosurgeon in a cyberpunk future. More valuable for your brain and your work than for your body. But that body still desperately needs protection.
The thing is, when you spend close to twenty-five years obsessively mastering one ancient game (thanks, hyperfocus!), you get *real, real good* at it. And this was an unforgiving game, not too far removed from when you needed quarters to keep playing. The kind of game that set the world on fire, and then slowly became forgotten as people moved on to the dazzling blockbusters it inspired.
The thing is, when you start modding a game, really digging into the guts of it, you can see what makes games function as a whole. You get an eye into not just the code, but game *design*. And when you're modding something so ancient, that knowledge becomes close to something pure. Something you can use in other situations.
The thing is, when everything goes topsy-turvy like that one episode of *Buffy* where everyone got the powers of their Hallowe'en costumes, only this time it's video games, and you're an obsessive who knows an ancient, unforgiving video game famous for how overpowered its protagonist is -- a protagonist that doesn't even have a name -- a protagonist that was the subject of hagiography in the series' later titles -- like the back of his hand, well... you know. Word gets out.
The thing is, all of the people I told you about before have more money than sense. Or powers.
So you can imagine my complete lack of surprise when my phone lit up on top of my BFG-9000. I was in demand. But I was still stunned to see the name on the caller ID.
John Carmack.
I didn't know he was still alive. But I owed the man so much.
Of course I called him back. I'd extract John Carmack from Hell if I had to, even if I had to get knee-deep in the dead to do it.
So thanks, modern game design. I'll be getting a real sense of pride and accomplishment from this one. | 2019-08-11T21:21:29 | 2019-08-11T21:00:19 | 2,624 | 125 |
[WP] You live across from a McDonalds that is 100% automated. Every night from 2-4am, empty self-driving cars go through the drive through. Your curiosity is about to get the best of you. | I walk across the street, to the mysterious drive through lined up with seemingly empty cars. As I sneak behind the last car in the line, I not only notice that the cars are, indeed, empty but also that the cars are not making any noise, even when they move. As soon as I get near, however, the line stops moving. The cars are silent and still, and I gather what is remaining of my courage and walk to the place where the food is supposed to be picked up.
A window separates me from the inside, and where an employee is to be handing out food is occupied by pure darkness. Even the light coming out of the McDonald's sign cannot seem to penetrate the darkness. It emits an odd, terrifying aura and I begin to shiver uncontrollably.
Just when I am turning around, attempting to leave, a faint figure appears at the corner of vision and I turn back to look inside. I see nothing and tell myself that I must have seen a reflection of myself. And then abruptly out of nowhere a man - if you can even call 'it' that - appears right in front of me and grabs my arm.
First, the sense of fear and shock floods me and I shake off the faint, deformed hand of the creature and start running back home. Then I feel an overwhelmingly painful burn on my arm where it grabbed me by. I find that the part of my arm has turned white, as if someone had poured flour on it. I rush into my house and immediately call 911. To my terror, the phone does not work and I rush to my car to head over to the local police station only a few blocks away.
I put the key into the car and step on the accelerator as hard as I can. The car does not move. I stomp on it like a maniac, completely filled with fear and confusion. When I try to leave the car, I find out that the car is locked and start banging on the window. I expect a loud sound of the window shattering, but instead I hear nothing. Not even a sound of smashing. I look at my arm again and notice that the whiteness has been replaced by faintness. I could see through the arm that the monster grabbed and the same faintness was spreading to the rest of the body. I begin banging on the window again, and the harder I hit, the fainter my body gets.
The car abruptly starts itself and begins moving. It drives me across the street to the drive through. It stops at the end of the line of empty cars. I look in the rear-view mirror and see nothing. I turn the mirror around, desperately looking for myself but there is nothing inside the car. I have become nothing.
Suddenly the cursed, deformed creature appears at the passenger seat. It turns its foul head around and stares at me. It gives me a demented smile and whispers to me.
*Welcome.* | I suspected they were sent by their owners to collect food at first, though I knew not of such a large legion of us who would do so. But I dispelled the thought when I saw one of the cars park itself, the food within gone by the next night, not before its headlights flashed about in the night in an attempt to find onlookers. I was no spy, but I sure was going to find the secret behind the joint.
I stepped into the cool night air, making my way over to the store. Its shutters were drawn and the light within was off. But as I drew closer, I saw electronic lines and force fields demarcating the pathway for the stream of cars. No one was iside the vehicles, just an automated machine standing in line and moving along. I joined the line, pretending to be a self-driving car too in hopes of learning more.
Beep. A car went forward as the rest eased in front to fill up the gap. I made sure the car behind me thought I really was a car, and the large gap between me and any other cars gave me that reassurance. It took 2 minutes to get to the front of the queue, where I heard an electronic voice call. "Big Mac? McChicken?" the voice queried.
"Big Mac," I replied, as I would to any employee, before I realized my error. *Cars couldn't talk.* I heard an alarm-like sound, as lights blared. "Unidentified Organism #17534, make your way to yor right for verification," the voice continue monotonously. To the right was a large array of gleaming machines, though the shine only accentuated the perception of its sharpness.
First, a sensing brush. I was prepared for examinations of the like, and the hard shell I made for myself withstood the test. Auto-voice, intelligence, even identification. With telepathy I answered all.
"Good. Now for the final test," the announcer continued, a large metal guillotine appearing, "We will run a large blade that slices through anything excluding special Council metal." I looked up in horror as the blade came down. *That was cheating...*
In the silent night, as people slept, few heard the scream.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | 2017-08-04T00:55:37 | 2017-08-03T23:02:59 | 902 | 54 |
[WP] Life on Earth evolved within an “FTL Dead Zone” a region of space where all known forms of FTL travel were deemed physically impossible. As such, it was quite a shock when an unknown species suddenly appeared from the Dead Zone one day calling themselves “Humanity” Having done the impossible... | "The math said that space-folding was theoretically possible but impossible on the scale of a spaceship, but the gravimetric survey showed that there are a couple of points where the hyperspatial geometry... look, I don't know all the math behind it. We found that there's a tiny spot in the middle of the Dead Zone where a small folder can operate safely, close enough to reach it with conventional rockets. We sent a few unmanned probes to prove that the drive worked, and this was our first manned mission. And then we ended up here, and you tractor-beamed us and told us to identify ourselves or be destroyed. Because apparently we arrived in the middle of a galactic war." Commander Aldheim finished his recap.
"I am *so* glad the aliens had a universal translator," muttered his copilot. "Can you imagine trying to explain this across the language barrier?"
"Your story appears to be truthful," the alien said bluntly. "But it puts me in a difficult situation. Standard procedure for an unknown sentient species is to avoid confrontation and pass the matter to the Council's diplomatic corps. This allows the new species to be welcomed as equals, and prevents the sort of ugly misunderstandings that caused the First Contact War. But at the moment, the Council is... divided. And I have military responsibilities, as well. Are you a military man, Commander Aldheim?"
The captain hesitated a bit, unsure if he should be talking about his planet's military to an alien, but settled on the truth. "Ex-military. This voyage is a civilian project, but most space pilots have military experience."
The alien hummed thoughtfully. "That's a common pattern in many species - the scientist discovers how to fly, and then the soldier realizes it lets them take the high ground against their enemies. And that's the situation I find myself in. If there really is a safe route for folders in the Dead Zone, then that is the *ultimate* high ground - it could be a safe harbor for our fleets, a hidden fortress, or even a highway into the heart of the Drakon Empire."
"So you're telling me you *want* to do things diplomatically, but in reality we're going to be on the front lines of your war."
The alien spread his hands, a surprisingly human gesture. "I don't like it, but I'm not sure I have a choice. I'll have to give a report once I get back to base. The only choice is whether I report it to high command first, or pass it to the council diplomatic corps. Either way, you'll have aliens knocking on your door pretty soon. Everyone will want to have the high ground."
"Give us a minute." The commander turned off the radio. "What do we do? We can't drag Earth into a war we don't know anything about!"
"I don't see how we could stop him. We don't have any weapons, and we can't even move with the tractor beam on us. Would it kill the aliens to wait until we've invented photon torpedoes or something?"
"Any way we could stop them from finding out where Earth is? Kick this down the road until we're ready?"
"Um... we could blow up our own ship? Or wipe the nav computer? But even then, they'd find it eventually with a gravimetric search. It would just be slower, since they have a lot more area to search." His copilot said cautiously. "Also, call me a coward, but I'd like a plan that gets us home safely."
"No, we do need to get home again. Someone has to tell Earth what we found." He turned the radio back on. "Captain. I get the feeling you're looking for a way to do the right thing."
"Like I said, I've got to report this. This is too important to lie about, even if I could."
"But the details are a little fuzzy, right? Like, you don't know exactly where we came from. That would keep our homeworld safe a little bit longer."
"I suppose that's true... but as soon as you fold out, I'd have a pretty obvious trace. And nobody would believe that I let an unknown alien go without trying to find out where they came from."
There was a pause, then the alien added. "But it would be pretty inconvenient if the trace led towards the galactic core. Almost anyone could have come from that direction."
"Ah, I see what you mean." The captain answered. "We'll get ready to fold as soon as you release us, then."
He closed the channel and started keying coordinates into the computer.
"What are you doing? That's not..."
He quickly shushed his copilot. "Just play along. We have enough power for a few extra jumps. So we give the nice alien a trail to follow, and then run for home. And we warn Earth that we're about to become the grand prize in a galactic war." | Mark sat in his apartment, resting on a reclined, sleek, black and red leather chair as he contemplated what was revealed to Humanity in the past hour. He had trouble making sense out of it as much as a government official did. That is to say that no one comprehended what was happening. Conspiracy theorists were flooding Twitter, Snapchat, Facebook, Instagram, and other sorts of social media with speculations made using bastardized pseudo-science. Although he didn't consider himself amidst their ranks, Mark was prone to browsing their maniacal conceptions with mild belief, using it to escape reality and substitute it for his own. It was for these reasons that he found himself, ironically, unfazed by this discovery, because he already dreamt of Humanity doing what it did best, beating immense odds, but what had perturbed him was those who had beat the odds and appeared on Earth's doorstep: Humans.
He rubbed his temples, grimacing as he thought harder on what was transpiring. *They're Humans,* he reminded himself. But that couldn't be, they didn't look anything like Humans. The same image reappeared in his mind with every tantalizing thought he tried to understand. These Humans, the ones that managed to make science break upon itself, didn't look humanoid, but more amalgamated with reptilian, avian, and mammalian features. They looked like a DNA splicing project gone wrong, like in those 1960s horror movies where the villains were experiments that escaped out of their cells in blacksites. Or maybe a more apt description would be describing them as a fey, Lovecraftian entities, derived from H.P Lovecraft's fiction. Mark prayed to God the latter was not the case, and was content in, until proven otherwise, that they were just amalgamations, without any powers or bizarre capabilities like comics or young adult fiction novellas that would have him believe.
The pensive teenager fell out of his chair, bruising his forehead while his phone pulsated with activity. He crawled over to the kitchen island, accepting the call. It was Damien, his best-friend.
"Mark, mark! Are you seeing this!?" Damien shouted into his phone, voice exasperated and swollen with disbelief.
"Yeah, yeah I saw it. It's crazy, right?" Mark hid his existential dread briefly, calmly replying.
"How can you be calm in a time like this? They're..they're aliens claiming to be Humanity from the future! How can those -things- be us?" He emphasized his disdain with exaggerated gestures, making his face flustered as others stared at him suspiciously during his daily jog.
"Why aren't you calm?" Mark deflected, tone choked with coldness. A technique he developed rather quickly whenever he became Damien's best friend.
"I'm a normal Human being, that's why!" Damien shouted his reply, receiving more narrowed eyes and side glances as he jogged through Tokyo.
Mark didn't answer.
"..Mark? Did you hang up?" Damien stopped jogging.
"No, I'm still here. I'm just..get here quick!" Mark answered. He hung up, pacing back and forth. He took deep breaths, trying to compose himself before Damien got to their apartment. He had to be strong, he always was strong for both of them, but this time, it was different.
Forty-five minutes later, Damien arrived home. "Mark!" He called.
"Lock the door and close the shutters," Mark huffed.
"What's happening?" Damien questioned why he needed to do those two things, but did them regardless.
"Earth is being invaded," Mark answered. "By those Humans. They released another announcement to all of Humanity, -our- Humanity, saying that they'll be reclaiming our bodies."
"..Oh my god," Damien murmured. "What are we going to do? What did the Prime Minister tell us to do?"
"The military is being deployed, and everyone is being evacuated into bunkers." Mark sharpened a steak knife on a honing rod dramatically. "We're going to stay put, because if we don't, then those aliens are going to kill us then take our bodies."
"But the..." Damien's voice faltered as he understood Mark's reasoning.
Both of them began fortifying their apartment, stacking chairs on top and against each other against their door. A bookshelf was placed in front of their patio, allowing a minimal amount of light to seep in through cracks. Neither of them knew what to do after they renovated, but just sit there, play video games and try not to think of their new reality: a war of Humanities. | 2021-01-09T14:23:34 | 2021-01-09T12:46:13 | 92 | 16 |
[WP] In an alternate world, a well-functioning society of zombies face an outbreak of humans. | Fast, agile beasts, their bodies seemed to respond with the speed of thought. They were demons from our holy book brought to life, and until this moment, I had not believed in them. Dad forced us to take shelter in our small attic, and from here, we watched a swarm of humanity butcher our neighbors. Their voices were higher pitched than ours, their soft, ruddy faces revealing madness as they systematically kicked down doors to murder zombies I had known my whole life. My mom's body lay in our driveway like a broken doll, a smear of brain on the pavement.
My little sister covered her eyes with a whimper, and climbed into an old cedar chest as our neighbor’s house burst into flame. I wanted to comfort her but didn’t know how. Maybe I could do that by killing as many humans as possible. Dad loaded the shotgun and passed the small revolver to me. Five rounds left. Dad had used the sixth to avenge mom downstairs.
“Remember son, they may be fast, but they’re vulnerable. You don’t have to shoot them in the head. Just like any other beast, they need their hearts to survive. Aim for the chest and they’ll go down.” He pumped the shotgun and pointed it at the locked attic door. “You can hurt them with a leg shot, but it won’t kill.”
I heard commotion downstairs. Humans battering down our door. I heard their high-pitched voices, the rapid sounds of their pounding feet. Dad and I took aim.
“I love you, son,” he whispered.
“Love you too.”
“Don’t come out of that chest, munchkin,” he said over his shoulder to my sister. “No matter what you hear.”
“I won’t let them hurt her,” I said, halfway believing it.
Their footsteps pounded on our stairs. I no longer heard screams outside, no longer smelled the smoke or felt the flames. All my focus was directed on the flimsy attic door, and the silly bolt I used to lock out the world. I’d installed it without permission, earning a fierce spanking and grounding when dad got home that night. Now it was the only thing protecting us from the human apocalypse.
The door shuddered, a hard strike from the other side. It sounded like a dozen humans had gathered at the top of the stairs. Dad pulled me back, his lifeless eyes locking with mine. “Get in the chest with your sister.”
I stared at him. “What?”
“Don’t argue,” He growled, throwing back the lid. “There’s too many of them.” My sister’s terrified face lifted, her black eyes huge against her cadaver-like skin. Patches of blonde hair clung to her scabby scalp. The door shuddered but did not break. “Do what you said, and protect her. Don’t come out until it’s over.” He forced me inside. “It’s alright. I’m going to be with your mother.” He thrust the shotgun in with us, and slammed the lid shut.
| A single voice rose into the wood smoke above the campfire filling the air with melody before climbing to the stars in song. It sang away the creeping night. One by one the members of the tribe of zombies gathered around the campfire, hushing their voices and their fears forming a loose semi-circle of pale, slack faces around the shaman. He waited patiently for them, begginning to clap, adding a steady hand-beat to the music till the only sound around the campfire was the sound of song.
Then, and only then, when they were still and he had their full attention did he begin to sing to Mother Moon. Some nodded their heads pleased with the choice of song. Others still looked scared. The shaman paid them no heed. It was a song of thanks, Mother Moon had looked on their hunt with favour today.
Her song had many parts, but it always began with sadness. Plaintively, the shaman called out to the soul of the llama they had taken. You were a brave llama. You were a strong llama. You were fast like the mountain streams, and you were wise. The wisdom of many years filled you and your brain was large and beautiful, grey and silver-white. You have given us life.
Beside the shaman, the crowd acknowledged the debt and softly they began to mourn the llama. It had been a fine llama. The shaman accepted their grief. Their mourning was also a part of the song and the shaman accepted them into the song. He sang to those gathered around him now now. He praised their courage, and their bravery. They hunted well. They were good zombies and they pleased their ancestors--
He could feel them about him now - the others. A great sadness welled in his heart, and his voice caught in his throat, but he did not misse a beat in the song. It was time to sing his tribe to sleep.
He began...
But there was no beginning. Some endings are neither majestic nor grand nor even particularly memorable.
*Rat a tat tat, Rat a tat tat*
A hail of paralysis darts shot out from the canopy of forest surrounding their home.
"Got them, boys!"
"Yup, all accounted for."
Beneath his black facepaint, the first man grinned, "Okay, let's roll in. Remember, chop off their heads and smash in their brains. Make sure you don't get any gunk on you. Keep your protective suits on at all times. Maintain good infection control procedures."
He mimicked zipping his lips.
"And remember folks. Omit all this singing and fires nonsense. We don't need all that shit in our lives." | 2014-10-15T07:54:21 | 2014-10-15T07:29:13 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] You have mind control powers. Instead of using it for evil, you open a business where people pay you to order them to do things that they'd otherwise be too lazy to do. | The day had been exceptionally quiet, not a single customer through the shops glass doors. Posted on them a large square, peeling at the edges, read: MARLEY REASUN: PSYCHIC INFLUENCER *Help me Help you*. It was a catch phrase that I hadn't been too fond of, but it got more customers than my last one, *Allow me inside*. In hindsight not my greatest use of wordplay.
I heard footsteps approaching the office door, hesitant and uneven. They stopped at the square on the door and a man gave it a long look, brow wrinkled with worry. He looked to be in his mid thirties, hair blackened and pulled back neatly. After another pause at gripping the handle he pushed his way in.
There wasn't much to look at in the office, I was really the only thing people came for anyways. So besides a few sideways glances to the cheap crystal balls and occult merchandise that lined the few shelves inside the man made his way straight to me.
"Hello, can I help you?" I spoke first to break any tension. Most people were entirely unfamiliar with the idea of "mind control" and often didn't know what to say. Luckily I did.
"I need to mow the lawn and don't wanna so....do your thing." he rubbed his wrists in discomfort.
"My thing? Hire someone to mow it. Cheaper I bet. Anything else?"
He seemed lost for words at my decline, but I was a business. Not a multi-million dollar chain that bibbity bobbity booed at any cash that came in the door. Respect was part of the transaction.
"Fine. Then uh...my taxes. I want to do my taxes but cant being myself to. So hook me up."
"Firstly, it's April. Secondly, same note as before. There's an accountant a few offices down, names Tom Rackard. Good guy."
Finally, seeming fed up with my declines the man withdrew a needle from his coat and slammed it to the counter. There was a long silence between us. I knew not what to say and it it seemed neither did he, so we just sat in silence over the needle
"I...what is that?" a stupid question to ask, but the only words I could muster.
"A needle. So, can you do it or not. My friend said-"
"Be quiet please. And sit still." I spoke calmly. Casually.
At my words the man grew stiff. His body perked up and his muscles tensed in his neck, his eyes faded from lively to dull and droopy. The man from before was no longer here, just a husk stood in his place. I had never been under my own control, but I had been told it was like watching a dream. As if your body was someone elses.
I just needed a moment. A moment to think to myself, and those like him, desperate like him, didn't often give me any time to consider. Of course I remembered his friend, but his friend was trying to quit smoking, no harm in that. But this? This would be agony. Misery of going through withdrawal inside while the body marches on unbothered. I wished now I'd granted his request of making him mow the lawn instead.
"You may be yourself again." at my command he let out a sharp, long held breath. I then realized I had forgotten to tell him he could breathe while under, oops.
"So- so it works! Do it. Now before I change my mind."
"This will be agony you understand. Pain and misery for...a week at least. And if you dont make it..."
"I dont care. Just do it Mr. Reasun. If I die then I die. At least I tried then."
I cared to be convinced no more. I held out a hand for him to shake. I thought I saw the slight of a grin as he took it.
"Fine. You will be under the embrace of your addiction no longer....and you will forget my name. I do not exist." There was a spark at my words leaving and entering his head. His gaze softened. Then he looked up to me with a bit of confusion.
"I was- I was just-"
"Leaving? Yes you were Mr. Reddle. You have a good one." and I watched as he walked back out the glass doors, hoping he wouldn't show back up again as he had in the past. Hoping that this would be the last, for better or worse, that I saw of Reddle. | A loud knock on the door startled me. *A late customer?* The sun was setting upon the cobblestone street outside as I looked through the peephole. There was a gray-bearded man dressed in a black coat with a matching bowler hat. Not one of my regulars.
I opened the door. "Hello!"
"You must be Fatelli," he extended his hand.
"Indeed, how can I help you?"
"I learned about you through some back channels. I have a task that I have found difficult to achieve, but perhaps with your help could get there."
I ushered him inside, shutting the door. "What is it?"
He removed his cap. "Well, it's a matter of taxes. I need you to tell me to take the sum of six-and-half gold pieces to the lord."
"When do you want it done?" I asked.
"Straight away is fine. I'd do it myself, but I really owe eight gold pieces and can't bring myself to do it."
I shuddered, thinking at once that I couldn't do it. To steal was a crime against the code of morality passed down to me by the faerie wizard Selenonna. Three months ago, I met her while working to harvest my meager crops as a subsistence peasant. Facing almost certain starvation in the winter, I prayed to the Gods. That's when she appeared, a creature no smaller than a fly, but having a human shape with tiny wings. She told me that she could make it so that I no longer worked the field, but that I must do exactly what she said. Her instructions were that I must never use the power for evil purposes or disclose who she was; if I did, it would be taken away.
"Umm, sir. I cannot take on this task if indeed you would be cheating the lord."
"Why not?"
"You see, I'm bound by an oath only to use my powers for good."
"You would do no evil here, it isn't your decision. It's mine."
He made an interesting point. Certainly, I wasn't permitted to use my capability to direct others to do evil of my own volition, but no one had ever asked me to do something that was morally wrong on their own behalf. Was that technically evil or not? He could theoretically do this himself without me, but would he?
"I don't think so," I shook my head. No way was I going to play with fire and lose my powers so soon after I had gotten them.
"Humph," he shrugged. "I guess I'll tell the others that you're useless."
"Not really, sir. I enable people to do the things they really don't want to do that are beneficial for them. Like waking up on time to milk the cows, for example."
"Nobody ever ascended to glory attending a farm."
"That's not true. I did."
"Yes, that's perhaps the most interesting question of all. You, a mere peasant, suddenly gain magical capabilities. Many wonder where they came from."
"I'm ordered not to disclose that."
"I could make it very worth your while to do that. You can't be earning much with this shop. With some help, I could give you enough money to make you a lord yourself. Thousands of gold pieces. You'd have to name your source though."
Thoughts of having my own castle ran through my mind. "That's tempting."
The man pulled a bag of coins out of his pocket. "50 gold just to start? Name the source and I'll return with 100 times that."
This is where I made the worst mistake I ever made. I should have figured that a man with that much gold wouldn't have come to me with a tax problem and that this was some kind of rouse.
"Sure," I said and accepted the coins. "It was a fairy named Selenonna." Surely, she wouldn't find out...
The man disappeared, Selenonna appeared in his place. "I knew I couldn't trust a farmer with money."
I drained the rest of my ale and forced the mug down on the bar. "So that's really how I went from being rich to poor overnight." | 2022-11-01T14:50:17 | 2022-11-01T14:20:28 | 249 | 52 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | **Covenant archives: Civilizations: Species: Humans**
Introduction:
The human history is a bloody one. For thousands of years their home world was divided by invisible lines and each area governed by different people. They fought over the most trivial things and often out of nothing more than pure spite or in argument over what fictional character was real. All of this changed when two leaders, Trump and Putin, couldn't agree on, well, on anything. The event called "Origin point" took place and over 90 percent of the human population was annihilated in less than 1 hour as nuclear weapons were detonated all over the surface of the planet.
The course of human history changed in that moment and violent conflict became an abolished concept that no human ever willingly took part of.
--------------------------------
**Covenant archives: Civilizations: Species: Humans**
Expansion:
No species ever took to interstellar travel as fast and ambitiously as the humans. Once they discovered warp drive they colonized their supercluster and even most of their galaxy in record time. They made contact with what was then known as The United Galaxies Collective and brokered peace and trade treaties before anyone really realized what had happened. Due to their incredible curiosity and will to absorb they immediately began catching up to The UGC in both science and size.
It didn't take long before some members of The UGC started to perceive the humans as threat. Many species felt the humans needed to be slowed down or stopped completely in their expansion but no legal ground to regulate expansion was found and the humans were left alone. For the time being.
------------------
**Covenant archives: Civilizations: Species: Humans**
Conflict:
The species with the most concern about human expansion were naturally the big player in the Andromeda galaxy. The Tirdian. Even though none had ever seen any intention of conquest from the humans the Tirdian who were suspicious in nature felt threatened and decided to act. What happened next is widely considered the biggest mistake in the history of The UGC.
The Tirdians launched a preemptive strike against the outer borders of the Milky way. They annihilated about 15 border outposts and put up blockades on additional hundreds of planets. From that point they swiftly advanced deeper into the galaxy as they faced no resistance of any kind. The humans that could fled but most stayed on the conquered planets and tried to live normal lives normal. The Tirdians were bewildered but considered the campaign a huge success. Within months thousands of planets were conquered and the Tirdians had suffered zero casualties, no statement had come from the human leaders and no attempt to broker peace was made.
About 4 months after the start of the campaign the Tirdians lost all contact with their forces in the milky way. The Tirdian leadership attributed this to communication failure due to interference and didn't give it a second thought. Until a message started broadcasting to the entire Andromeda galaxy.
*"NO MERCY"*
*"NO MERCY"*
*"NO MERCY"*
*"NO MERCY"*
*"NO MERCY"*
*"NO MERCY"*
*"NO MERCY"*
*"NO MERCY"*
The words appeared on every screen, was heard from every sound source and never stopped repeating.
To this day, 250,000 years later, the Andromeda galaxy holds no trace of the Tirdian civilization, it holds no life and it probably never will.
-------
-------
Thanks for reading! This is my first WP and first story in several years. I know it will be buried but any reader is appreciated. | “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
The chant rang out across the recess court of the Milky Way Middle School, where various larval age children across many species were sent to learn basic skills. Ever since the Great Awakening of IGC (Intra Galactic Contact) 143, it was deemed necessary that all species members of the Galactic Federation be held to the same educational standard regarding mathematics, galactic history, sciences, and fluency in the standard galactic language of Batheem.
“Come on, you guys. I don’t want to fight.”
The Human child looked at the various alien faces forming an inescapable fence around him and his proposed opponent.
“What’s the matter, Enoch? Scared?”
The spade-faced insectoid Jatno, Kryllyth, stared down the Human.
“I’m not scared, I just don’t like fighting.”
Humans were revered across the galaxy for their sensibility and pacifism. They famously settled the Raxian trade dispute in IGC 94, as well as ending Ure’s fifth world war. Humans always tried to find a better solution rather than just eliminate the cause of the conflict with violence.
A whinny-like laugh came from somewhere in the crowd.
“I’ll bet he won’t fight because he’s so scared of losing!”
Enoch scoffed. “I am not. I easily weight twice as much as him.”
“I heard your mother dated a slimy Hungaul,” Kryllyth hissed, “and then left him for an even slimier Rytte.”
The crowd egged him on. If there was one thing students at MWMS liked, it was a good fight. Plus, a fight with a Human was rare, and famously entertaining.
“You shut up!”
The human was getting visibly angry, his face turning a deep red. If humans were most famous for their pacifism, they were second most famous for whenever they snapped and got violent, they got very, *very* violent. Just ask the leader of the Felms, who dared to try and conquer the Humans’ dear satellite, Luna. Or perhaps ask the former inhabitants of the planet Ortina, if the recently Uranium radiated atmosphere doesn’t give you cancer first.
“Yeah, and I heard his colony got conquered by the Theks!”
Another collective roar of laughter.
This pushed the Human over the edge, and he leapt at the unsuspecting Jatno with an enraged yell. The crowd closed in around the mass of punching hands and yelps of pain. Eventually a voice rang out.
“Ok, ok! You win! Get off me!” Kryllyth yelled, pinned under the Human with and an arm twisted behind his back.
“Gladly.” Enoch stood up and walked away, dusting off his hands, leaving the crowd with jaws dropped.
No one picked a fight with a Human for the rest of the year.
| 2016-03-14T01:37:22 | 2016-03-13T21:46:28 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] Every Spring, Men and Women enter a kind of "Mating Season" in which sexual activity skyrockets while inhibitions and moral restraints plummet. You are one out of few who are not affected at this time of year. Describe an an average Spring day. (NSFW) | This time of the year, you couldn't go two steps without jumping the next person you see and fucking them until you fall asleep. Yeahp, it's Spring. Everywhere you go, people are having sex. Outside on the streets, in the park, in their cars...some times it's not even one couple. Sometimes it's an orgy. Which is where I'm at today. A friend had sent me an invite to a mass orgy at her aparment. I arrived a little late. When I got there, the foreplay was pretty much done, and all the guys and girls were busy going at it in different positions with different people. The host so graciously asked me to jump in anytime, chocking on her words as much as she chocked on the cock in her mouth.
"Uh...thanks..." I said uncomfortably.
Lacey, in between two other girls taking dick from two guys Ive never met before, completed some sort of sex sandwich. If I had to remake that in terms of actual ingredients, I would say that Lacey was the piece of ham in between letuce and cheese with the two guys as the buns. And I dont know about you, but I like ham. Anyway, Lacey pointed at me, making a gesture for me to come closer. I sighed and ignored her, making my way into the kitchen and pulling a can of coke from the fridge. I sat at the dinner table, the only seats not drizzled in jizzle, pulling out my phone to browse reddit. It took an hour and a half before everyone got too tired to keep going.
"Why didn't you join in?" The host asks provocatively. She took a seat across from me, still naked and covered with body fluids.
"Please." I said as I took a sip of my soda. "I got all my Springtime Sex done back in winter."
My friends giggled, still obviously horny. "Wow. Your girlfriend is one lucky gal."
"Mm, I guess." I said as I opened and closed my right hand. I finished my soda, and put my phone back in my pocket. I said good bye to the tired out fuckers lying on the living room floor.
I arrived home, jumping straight into bed. I thouht about the spring season being a crazy time for sex. But while all the people are horny out of their minds, I get to be sane and logical. If it werent for me getting all that spring time madness out of the way the way I do, I'd miss out on the free convenience store food I can take while the cashier is fiddling in the back with whoever. Yeah, its great.
I high fived myself, and tried to get some sleep. "You know, I should find you a nice glove for all the work you've done." | It was that time of year again. People just seemed to lose all common sense and dignity and, to put it bluntly, bone each other at the first chance they get. While it was great for most people, it was a nightmare for me.
I rolled out of bed around eleven, my growling stomach finally convinced me to get up. I groggily made my way to the kitchen and swung open the fridge door. Besides a year old jar of pickles and baking soda, the fridge of empty. I checked the pantry. Nothing edible in there either.
It wasn't like I was hurting for money or anything. I had just been trying to avoid leaving my apartment at any cost. Unfortunately, it seemed like today was the day I'd have to make a run to the grocery store.
ut
Objectively, mating is a beautiful and majestic thing. It's necessary for human survival. I get that and I applaud the people who find enjoyment in the act. I, on the other hand, am not a fan. The thought of being so physically and mentally intimate with somebody made me feel sick.
I walked to a nearby grocery store with my head down low. I passes by an alleyway and heard faint grunts and moans. I rolled my eyes.
I walked into the store, glad my journey was almost halfway over. I grabbed a basket and hurried to the dairy section.
I managed to pick up some milk, cheese, meat, cereal, and other such things without running into a problem. That stopped when I got to the frozen food section.
I turned the corner and stopped in my tracks. A man was lifting a girl up against the door of a freezer, her legs wrapped around his waist. His pants were around his ankles and hers were...well, I didn't want to know.
Whenever I was younger, I'd usually throw up whenever I saw something like this. But I got used to it, as disgusting that sounds. I felt my stomach do a flop and I walked the other way.
At the checkout, the cashier wasn't even looking at me. His eyes were looking off into space and he grunted a few times. I rolled my eyes and threw down the money, taking my food. As I walked away, I heard him moan, "Yeah baby, you're doing great."
I didn't want ice-cream anyways. | 2014-12-25T00:42:04 | 2014-12-25T00:11:37 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has come and gone. Humanity has survived and prospered, but with the virus still inside every single human. Centuries in the future, we are at war with an alien race, and they are horrified to learn that we don’t stay dead easily. | The heartbeat was the new thing for mankind. Well, not the heartbeat. But the awareness of it. Something about the virus and it's interaction with hormones and such at puberty. You heard the *lub-dub* in the back of your head. All the time. It was soothing in a way.
Only one in a thousand went insane from it.
I myself always found it soothing, anyway. A pleasant backbeat to work. To reading. To fucking. I'd never had trouble falling asleep since the heartbeat was in the back of my skull. It lulled me like a summer rain at night.
The real problem was it becomes much harder to stay calm when that *lub-dub* started bouncing a heavy metal rhythm in your skull. Like when monsters invade your city and interrupt your bus ride home.
Public radio picked it up first, and blared it's warning announcement through the music and audio books and political rants to broadcast the recorded message.
"All citizens. A stage 2 public emergency has been declared. Military response is being mobilized. Return to your homes and wait for further announcements. Isolation protocol is not necessary at this time."
*Lub-dub Lub-dub Lub-dub*
It was a five minute walk from the bus stop to my apartment building. I was on track to make it at a run in two, despite the frantic scramble off the bus five blocks early, when I saw the creatures.
There were five of them in front of the burned wreckage of my usual sandwich shop. They looked like something out of a video game or an early Pixar movie. Lizardlike. Too many teeth and eyes. Something too clean, too polished about the skin. Tall. Each held it's left arm pointed to me.
*Lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub*
The one in front made some kind of sound in it's throat that I couldn't replicate without steel wool and a belt sander. It raised its arm to me.
"Hey...I...I just want to go home...You don't need to-"
I didn't hear a shot, but there was half of an eight inch spike sticking out of me. I didn't remember falling. I was just suddenly looking up at the things, listening to the beat slow.
*lub-dub.......lub...dub....lub....*
The thing was leaning over me, clicking and grating to itself and it's companions when the world came back into focus. I could hear more, down to the individual pieces of particle board collapsing in the burning deli wreckage nearby. See more, like the strange seams of the scales on the face looking down at me. But all that I could focus on was the quiet. That gentle beat in the back of my head was gone.
Taken from me.
**Stolen from me**.
I needed it. I had to have it back. The thing in front of me had something like the beat in it. It wasn't fair that it had that and I didn't. I had to take it. Had to have it. **had to**. **MINE.**
It didn't expect me to lunge up and bite it. It's skin was tough, and the arms trying to pull me away were strong.
Not tough enough. Not strong enough.
It tasted sour and rotten, but that didn't matter. Different as it was when I fed on it I could feel it's beat.
*Lub-dub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub dub. Lub-dub*
But then it slowed, and stilled. And the thing sat up, robbed of its own beat.
It stared at me for a moment, It's eyes were flat and without pupils, but I felt I could see the confusion and loss and hate in them. But that was soon taken over by hunger.
And there were four more creatures with heartbeats to take.
We knew each other now. And we were one in our need. | “We are approaching planet ‘Earth’ Captain, shall we ready the intergalactic rangers?” I said. The Captain Gorgan replied “Yes, signal the rangers to report to battle stations and to suit up, we will send only one detachment, these ‘humans’ are a rather primitive species that still rely on ballistic weapons”. “Very well sir, this should be an easy conquest and the supplies will be vital for our voyage across the galaxy” I said. -sirens blared in the 1st squadron bay- “Get moving! On the double, we have resources to secure!” Proclaimed the squad leader. The troops suited up and readied themselves for what they thought would be a light skirmish. The ships landed in China. “Sir are you sure this is the best place to begin? The scanners detect the largest density of life forms in this vicinity.” I asked. The captain assured “We will defeat them easily, their weapons and military tactics are no match for our superiority”. The first squadron, consisting of about 300 troops moved quickly off the ship, without initiating dialogue or diplomacy, they began firing on crowds of civilians. As the civilians fell, our troops moved quickly through the city, they were in search for food and building materials. But all of a sudden, as the troops were stepping over 1000’s of bodies of fallen humans, one stood back up. “Impossible” Exclaimed the squad leader who shot it again. The human, unfazed by this shot, continued towards the aliens, it took hundreds of shots(one happened to hit the head) to kill it. Than all the bodies began reanimating, the troops were being bit at the ankles and had their lower halves torn apart by teeth. You see, our species had created weapons so accurate and sufficient in killing that they had moved on from armor, they had not needed it in hundreds of years as they killed enemies instantly and from a distance. One by one the 1st squadron was eaten alive, decimated by an undying race. “Captain! We have a problem! The humans don’t seem to stay dead for very long!” I yelled. “Send squadrons 2 and 3, we must obtain these resources or our journey will fail!” The captain ordered. “Sir, squadron 2 and 3 are still sleeping, it will take them 30 minutes to ready for combat!” I said. As I looked out of the window from the control room, I saw a horde of these undying creatures approaching. Before I could shut the air lock, so many had come in that the gears were jammed from body parts of these seemingly unintelligent beings. “Captain, we are defenseless sitting here, we could be attacked by ballistic projectiles!” I warned. The Captain assured me “These being are not intelligent, they eat each other’s flesh and walk into laser fire, we must have gotten false data about the state of their weaponry”. Just than out of the corner of my eye, I saw what looked like an asteroid, but the scanners went haywire. “Sir, the scanners report a missile incoming, but it is not ballistic alone, the scanner reads that it contains some sort of unstable, radioactive material”. “Thats impossible, how can they be so advanced yet so simple, ready the shields” the Captain replied “Sir, the shields won’t activate, the airlock must be closed....” | 2018-09-29T17:48:00 | 2018-09-29T16:21:21 | 123 | 41 |
[WP] You are a mutant in Xavier's school for gifted youngsters with the power to teleport, well that's what you tell everyone. In reality you can pause time and you're not ready to be an omega class mutant. | All the students were getting up to leave class when he heard, "Matthew, might I speak to you for a moment?"
"Of course, Professor."
Professor Xavier had always been kind to him. Matthew long suspected that Xavier knew he was hiding his full potential but the professor never pushed the subject and treated Matthew like all the other students. He liked feeling normal here. His long standing lie was that he could teleport. Whenever they were required to practice their abilities it put Matthew in a tough spot. The teachers were constantly trying to push his limits and get him to teleport further and further. It's tiring having to run such far distances constantly. Yesterday, the teacher had asked him to try to travel to someplace he had previously been. After faking an attempt for an hour or so the teacher finally relented and suggested they take a break.
"Professor Munroe tells me you had a difficult time yesterday. She was worried she might have pushed you too hard and wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I-I'm fine professor. She didn't push too hard. I tried picturing different places but nothing happened. I don't know if I'm able to teleport like that."
"Well, things happen at different paces for everyone. I'm sure you've heard of Kurt by now?"
"Yes, sir."
"When he first came here, he was limited by what he could see as well. He could travel to anywhere in sight, but beyond that, he was too frightened to push himself. It takes extraordinary strength to push limits set by our minds. In time, I'm sure you will be able to overcome anything you set your mind to."
"Thank you professor."
"Matthew, have you made any friends since you started here? I don't see you with the other students very often."
"No sir, I-I think they are frightened of me."
"Why is that?"
"They avoid me, and I hear them saying things about me."
"Teleporting is an enviable gift. I'm sure they will come around in time."
"I guess."
"Matthew, are you sure there isn't something else? You know I would never use my gift on anyone without permission but it doesn't take a mind reader to see that something is bothering you."
"Professor, c-can you keep a secret?"
"Of course, Matthew. Anything you tell me would be kept between us."
Eyes to the floor Matthew said, "I have been lying to you and the other teachers. I can't teleport."
Professor Xaviers remained quiet as if telling Matthew to continue.
"I-I was afraid if you found out what I can do, that you would make me part of your advanced class. I just wanted to feel normal for once. Everyone my whole life has called me a freak and when I got here, I was just another kid. I'm so sorry I lied professor."
"It's okay Matthew. I understand. If I may ask, what is this gift that you were afraid to speak of?"
"It's easier if I show you."
"Lead the way."
The two of them left the office and went into the crowded hallway watching the kids on their way to various classes. Matthew reached over and set his hand on Xaviers shoulder and everyone froze. Turning to Matthew, Xavier said, "Well, it certainly is an extraordinary gift. The ability to freeze time is no small feat. I can't say I've ever met another mutant with this ability, Matthew."
"Are you going to kick me out of the school for lying to you?"
"No, Matthew. I understand why you kept this from us. It is an incredible burden to have control over time. I imagine it can be quite lonely."
Nodding his head Matthew was tearing up a little.
"Matthew, I'm going to keep this between us until you're ready to tell other people. Would you be okay with having private lessons with me once a week to learn to better control this power of yours?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Very good. Bring us back to real time and let us join the rest of the students. It's nearly time for your next class." | "today we'll be running some basic power exercises to figure out your power classes, I know for many of you this will be a first for being allowed to use your abilities freely so keep that in mind and don't be shy about going full blast. Johnathan you're up first, you're a teleporter right?"
"Uh yeah" John replies staring at the ground
"Okay" the professor zips across the field and returns in the blink of an eye carrying a giant metal box, he drops the box to the ground gently and continues his lesson "so here we have a hollow cube of iron plated lead, we typically use it for those with x-ray vision to see how strong it is but it's also useful for seeing whether teleporters can port to a location they can't see, simple enough just teleport inside, grab the toy inside and teleport out"
Johnathan's mind was reeling 'if I tell them what my actual power is I'm going to have to join the X-Men, then I'll be killed or flattened along with the school, I just wanna be normal"
Johnathan looked up and saw everyone around him frozen in place, thinking to himself 'wait I didn't activate my power' he was met with a response from his own mind 'no that was me'
Johnathan span his head around to see Professor Xavier rolling up in his wheelchair, the chair's wheels did not doing nor did they leave any mark upon the ground as if it were levitating
The professor spoke with words this time "hello there young John"
"Uhm hello"
"Don't mind me I'm only here to observe the class"
"Oh uh but the test is.. uh"
"Yes it's a test for teleporters"
"Yeah and uh.. I'm a Uhm"
"Not a teleporter but a time stopper"
"...yeah"
"Seems we'll have to change our records, the ability to pause time is a potential Omega level power, thus it needs to be trained carefully.. and honestly, wouldn't you agree?"
"No wait"
"Something to say"
John pauses and starts to think but stops thinking and begins to speak from his heart alone "I don't want to fight anyone, or have to go to war with other mutants or people, I just want to be a normal kid with a normal life, maybe find a girlfriend and that's it, I don't want to be trained into a super soldier and have to wear spandex and fight against anyone, so just leave me as a weak teleporter who can't even get inside of that box"
"I can't promise you will never have to fight anyone, after all the world has had trouble accepting our kind for quite a while and I can't say what the future holds, that said I am glad to have a student that sees the brutality of violence for what it is, you have a kind soul and I am honoured to be given the chance to nurture it, you don't have to become a soldier but you shouldn't waste your gifts either. Think of it this way, you were born with a great talent for pausing time, you were also born with a slightly weak back so you'll never be a professional weight lifter, you have impressive scores in your maths class but you struggle in language arts, everyone has things they are talented in and things they are not, the only normal thing in this world is the will to nurture one's talents and compensate for one's weaknesses. You can be whatever you want to be, whatever you choose will become normal for you in time"
"Well thanks I guess, I feel a little better knowing this isn't some military training camp, do I still have to take this test?"
"If you like, or we could arrange for the time control test instead"
Johnathan looks at the box, seeing no way to get in he returns to the professor "time test please" | 2022-11-09T16:36:25 | 2020-07-15T07:49:54 | 9,106 | 38 |
[WP] One day, you see a picture of yourself in a foreign newspaper. You ask someone to translate the headline for you: "Search for kidnapped child still ongoing." | Mom and Dad said I was adopted. We even had the adoption papers. It was all correct. When I saw that computer aged version of myself, I couldn’t believe it. That wasn’t actually me.
The paper read, in Russian, “Anastasia Argechev was two years old when she was taken from her Moscow home. Her parents, Natasha and Stefan Argechev, remember her today, as it would be the 18th anniversary of her disappearance. They have never stopped looking for their precious daughter. We love you Anastasia, come home.”
It gave a phone number to the family. I wanted to call them. But I also needed to call my own parents. I wouldn’t be able to see them for five more months, as I was a foreign exchange student in Moscow.
After I called my parents, I didn’t know what to believe. My mother told me that they adopted me from Russia before they immigrated to the United States. She even told me the name of the adoption agency.
But when I went to go to the adoption agency, it wasn’t even there. It hadn’t been open for thirty years.
And so, I went to the family who was missing a baby girl that was my age. That looked identical to me.
The door opened to women who looked like me, but older with grey mixed in the red.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Stefan! Come quickly!” She shouted.
A man came to the door, his eyes a bright blue, filled with hope.
“Anastasia,” he sighed.
It was then that I knew. I was home.
Sorry if it’s not very good, wrote this on a school bus coming home from a marching band competition.
| It was a quiet day in the south. I was sold by the woman who called me her mother when I was 10 to a man who saw potential to use me. In this modern era, chains are hidden on slaves. Technology today uses hidden devices to track us and micro tasers to pin us down if we try to run attached to our necks. They charge them at night as we sleep on the cold hard floor.
I look like a normal business man, well groomed, and in a suit. Dark skin, light green eyes like a lagoon, and jet black hair with a fade and blonde highlights. Average build. It wouldn't look like I was someone's slave. We are well groomed slaves looking like we live the luxury life but behind closed doors, we sleep on the cold ground. Waiting for our next meal or a chance to use the bathroom.
We are educated but in the way they want us to be educated. There is no escape for us.
Today I am walking down the road with my master. But the air seems weird. People are staring at me in shock more than usual.
"It's him!" Said a woman from afar! "That's the man who is lost!" I pass by a news stand and see a picture of a boy and a man's aged picture that looks like me.
Today my world changed.
| 2017-10-21T16:06:47 | 2017-10-21T14:52:53 | 37 | 11 |
[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... | Ok, this may be a little late but let's see how it goes. Also, I have never written before (besides essays in college) so there may be a bunch of grammatical errors.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The day had finally come. It was Name Day. The day your future is mapped by a single word that appears along the right wrist. Normally Name Day is a private affair with your closest family and friends but our town had decided to make a spectacle of ours. This was the first set of twins to our relatively small town of a few small thousand. I personally don't see what all the fuss is about seeing as my sister Ashley and I are just fraternal twins. It's no different than other siblings. I guess the excitement of two Name Days is wild enough to excite the people around here.
11:52 am
Only 8 more minutes to go until our reveal. There is a buzz around the high school auditorium. You can faintly hear the chatter of residents trying to guess what our paths will be. I already know what my sisters will be. I have always had a knack for this growing up. Every Name Day I have attended for close friends and family I just knew. Cousin Rob was going to be a teacher. He was always good at helping me with my homework it so I wasn't surprised when the letters appeared on his right wrist. Same with my best friend Jason. Athlete. Ashley's closest friend. Dancer. These were easy so it's no surprise that most people had already figured them out well before I did. It was the times that no one was right and I guessed it that gave me the most satisfaction. The only one that I could never guess was myself. I felt like there were millions of possibility and they were all mine but nothing stood out. Nothing grabbed me by the throat and revealed itself like so many others. There wasn't normal gut feeling that convinced me I was right. Just the emptiness of a million possibilities.
11:59 am
1 minute to go and I can still hear the residents commenting on what our wrists will reveal. Actor... Scholar... Janitor... Politician... All different varieties of professions just like when I tried to focus on what I felt I would get. It was kind of refreshing to know I wasn't the only on having trouble deciphering what my path will be. And also a tad terrifying.
"Ok everyone take your seats! The reveal is about to commence," exclaimed Mayor Gunderson into the microphone.
12:00 pm
The auditorium falls to a hush as they prepare for my reading. It was decided that I would go first as I was born before Ashley. Then they would reveal hers.
The family has gathered around and I feel a slight euphoric sensation as my wrist begins to tingle. Letters slowly start appearing along my arm one after another.
S.U.C.C.E.S.S.O.R
Successor? What does that even mean? No one has seen successor before.
Mayor Gunderson speaks softly into the microphone, "He has been given Successor."
The auditorium begins to rise in volume as people discuss the possibility. Successor to what? The President? My father? Who?
"Please calm down everyone. We will have time to discuss this after the revealing is completed. Let's see what path Ashley has been given," said the mayor.
The auditorium once again falls to a soft murmur. The family gathers around Ashley to see her path yet her wrist is blank. An uneasiness is falling over the crowd and Ashley looks disturbed. This has never happened before. What does it mean? It makes no sense. I have always known what Ashley was meant to be. I had the gut feeling from a very young age when we would be laying down for bedtime and I could hear her softly singing. She had an angelic voice and that was her calling.
"This makes no sense. I've known what Ashley was meant to be since we were kids. She is going to be a singer," I said.
Just as the words left my mouth the letters began to appear on her arm.
S.I.N.G.E.R. | Something happened in the past... A curse on all humanity, yet still a blessing. Every human now, on their eighteenth birthday at noon, magically knows their purpose in life. It's not a secret for just them, though: it takes the place almost of a tattoo, leaving no way to hide your destiny. My mother's word was "Banker," and lo and behold, she became one of the best bankers in the state. My father... I don't know his; he left before I could read it. Mum says his was "Alimony" though.
It's 11:59 right now, on my eighteenth. As I nervously watch the seconds tick by, my arm feels numb. Black colour flows beneath my skin, swirling around and not forming any words. My relatives gathered around, fighting for a peek of my arm to get the first view of what I'm destined to be. The ink starts to form a word -- no, two... -- no, one...
At noon exactly, pain strikes me as my fate is sealed. I drop to my knees, clutching my arm... The word has formed, my fate is sealed. Getting up, I bring my arm to my view and see "Judge." Great... Law is the last thing I want to do with my life.
But more words start to form. "Of... human... fate?" I say, trembling. It hurts too much to think clearly, and I can't understand the meaning of what I'm marked with. Judge of human fate seems... impossible.
Years in the future, I found myself practicing magic. My aptitude got me the attention of the head mage, who told me of an event. "The Inspection is near," he told me. "All mages will go in front of our god's shrine, and he will see your mark. Judgement shall be passed on you, and the worthiest among the visitors get to meet with the god."
The Inspection... I went along with the others to the shrine, my mark burning on my arm. The Nameless One, the god of magic, entered in divine form. He grabbed everybody's arm at once and pushed away the sleeves of the robes we wear as a uniform. Suddenly, however, my vision went white as I collapsed in pain. I was the worthy one this time?
"Judge of human fates... Are you aware of your mark?" he asked. "No, no, don't answer. I shall explain. Long ago, I placed a spell on all humanity. It burned my physical body, but it provided purpose to the lost humans of the time. On reaching adulthood, they knew what they were meant to do.. But it was subject to randomness. My mark, on the spell, was 'Cursebringer.' But you... You are the judge. Ascend with me, for I am dying. My soul is eager to return to the void from where it came, and I need a successor."
I nodded, my body immediately burning up to the horror of my colleagues. So that was what my mark meant... I am to be the judge of fates, the sole authority on what marks people get, if any. A child appears in front of me, not older than seventeen, along with a list of their interests. Coding, science, technology. Sounds like me...
Just for shits and giggles, I assigned this person a random fate. Their mark burned them, and I saw a familiar face assisting the child. I was the one to provide my fate from the future, and so the cycle began...
This is just a thing I wrote, half-tired, bored waiting for class. I know it sucks D: | 2017-03-16T06:31:54 | 2017-03-16T04:18:55 | 28 | 11 |
[WP] "My fellow Americans..." The newly elected President begins. "I am gay, and have been my whole life." Give me your best account of the country's reaction. | *zap*
"... has just announed that he is gay and had been his entire life. We're about to go life to our special correspondence in Washington DC. James, what are..."
*zap*
"... is crazy! People partying in the streets, the whole city is in a state of exception. Masses of people flood the streets, everyone wields the rainbow ..."
*zap*
"... mixed. Representatives of churches all over the US have declared not to support the president. Some have openly called for reelections, declaring the new president 'a shame for the United States'..."
*zip*
The TV went black.
"What a bunch of nutwhits", thought Marin. "Could something be of less importance as to whom the president shares his bed with? Oh my, seems we've got a president and a first...well...man, right?"
"Marin, come on, let's sleep!" said Steven, who was lying next to his boyfriend.
They kissed each other goodnight and while snuggling they fell asleep.
| The reaction could be summed up in two letters.
"Eh."
For some, it was enunciated "Eh?!?!", while for others it was a bored "Eh.", and others were basically all "Que?" but that was likely due to not speaking English.
After the initial surprise of the announcement, life went on.
It was later decided with science that gender was dumb and it's better to be attracted to people and not their sexual characteristics. Be bi, everyone. Or whatever the term is for 'kind of likes everything so long as they like awesome stuff and keep relatively healthy and hygienic'. | 2015-12-06T10:26:19 | 2015-12-06T07:00:41 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] Heaven just installed wifi, you can use it to communicate with those who've already passed away. A friend messages you one day... | I was sitting in the dining room, listening absentmindedly to the TV in the background and my daughters giggling. With the TV being occupied by Dora at the moment, I sat in the chair and scrolled through the news on my phone. The tea kettle in the background made small noises as it heat up on the old stove. As I opened up a new article, my phone buzzed quietly in my hand. My eyes flickered to the taskbar, waiting for the name to pop up.
"Daaaad! Stella won't share again!" Nancy called from the next room. I put my phone down and walked over to them. They sat cross legged in front of the TV, their box of Littlest Pet Shops toppled over in front of them.
"Stella has all of the dogs and she won't give me any!" Stacy demanded loudly, pointing to the pile of small toys at her sisters feet.
"But she can have everything else! All I want are puppies!" Stella said, holding two of the toys in her pudgy fists protectively. The kettle started making louder noises as it began boiling.
I leaned down, surveying the toys in front of them, and asked Stella which dog she liked the least. She dug out a toy. I took it from her hand and gave it to Stacy.
"But now I don't have all the dogs!" Stella said, reaching for the toy.
"You'll be fine, I promise!" I kissed the tops of their heads and continued back to the kitchen. I walked towards the table, reaching for my phone as it vibrated a second time. The kettle bubbled and steamed; I contemplated moving it, but continued towards the phone.
I swiped out of the of the news app and over to messaging. I didn't recognize the area code as anything nearby.
"dont let stella go near the kettle"
"please"
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Stella reaching for the kettle to turn it off, just like her mother used to do. | My phone vibrates *zzzzzz* *zzzzzz*
I check the message and it says the person texting me is 'Angel Steve Irwin'. I realize Steve Irwin is dead and I bet its a prank.
We talk for some time to verify certain things only Steve would know about our very personal relationship and after a couple texts explaining our butt plug and crocodile 'experiments', I know he is the real deal.
"My buddy is seriously texting me from heaven!" I screamed to myself.
Steve says that heaven is great and there are many beautiful women and crocs going up to 30 feet up there with God. I cannot believe that he has been so lucky. I walk over to the kitchen of my house realizing that I should kill myself immediately so I can be with Steve and his sexy crocodiles, I mean sexy women...
As I'm about to stab myself, I receive another text from Steve telling me that suicide grants no access to heaven! "Wow" I think to myself, I almost ruined everything. I decided I must get myself killed. I told Steve to wait and I'll be there shortly.
Since I live in Jersey, I waited until a Saturday night on the boardwalk and insulted people on the amount of gel in their hair. Luckily for me, the second guy I insulted was a beefed-out roid monkey with insecurity issues! He made it too easy. After three punches and a fall onto my neck, I could feel myself rising to heaven.
Here I come Steve, keep the crocs warm! | 2014-07-28T23:46:54 | 2014-07-28T22:03:54 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] In this dystopian society, citizens are only allowed to say words that are on the 'approved common words' list. All other word lists must be purchased before you are allowed to say a word from them. The rich have a distinct advantage. | "Salutations, Sport. I am Senior Officer Greg Dunning. I welcome you to the New York Police Department."
Sport entered the car without reply, waiting for Dunning to continue.
"You have officially been authorized by the State of New York to fully utilize the Department of Justice vocabulary package." Dunning started driving as soon as Sport closed the door. Sport sat silently, gazing at the various extravagant signs and billboards as they passed.
"You do understand that you can speak clearly now, right? Sport?" Dunning said, abandoning his official tone. *Rookies are always mute.*
"Sorry." Sport replied sheepishly, "I- I'm not used to talking."
"Well, you're going to have to get used to it, Sport. This job involves a *lot* of talking."
Sport simply shrugged and resumed gazing silently.
Dunning frowned, but continued: "It's normal. Most recruits - all of them, really - can't afford a Vocab plan. They get their first taste of free speech here."
Dunning sipped his coffee and they both sat in silence at a red light. Suddenly a voice was coming from the monitor. It was issuing a set of numbers, each of which Sport was familiar with, but, perhaps because of his nervousness, could not make sense of.
"Well, what do you think? What do we do now?" asked Dunning, with a smirk.
*I didn't catch that fourth integer. I guess I'm just nervous on my first day,* Sport thought; though, what he said was, "I can't."
"Ha, yeah. Well, I know what you mean. Just follow my lead and you'll get used to it."
Dunning led Sport through a variety of encounters, some of which led to arrests, while others didn't. "Keep asking questions!" Dunning would tell him. "Make them as specific as you can! Most of the people we deal with are working class, and can't afford a decent Vocab."
"I guess I'll have to start ut-il-iz-ing." Sport said.
Another set of numbers started coming from the radio.
"You should be pretty happy," Dunning said with a frown as he looked at the monitor, "That you aren't doing *that* job. The numbermen, they're called. Public servants who don't work with people. The poor sods. They can only use numbers while on the clock. And I guarantee they can't afford a good Vocab plan. Ever met one?" Dunning grinned, but before Sport could retort, Dunning went on, "They're weird. Creepiest batch of nut-jobs on Earth. Ha!"
Sport paused for an uncomfortable duration, then finally said, "I *was* one."
They were both quiet. | The government thought they could own anything. Words, names, identities. It had been long ago when there were different ways of speaking, whether it was in eloquent and beautiful speech, harsh and angry, sweet and quiet. That the ability to express feelings, ideas, to retell stories, wasn’t just something that the rich could afford and that the less fortunate had to work for all their lives.
It’s almost like they’ve forgotten that the people they represent, the people they’re suppose to fight for, are the same as them. That we deserve the same right as them. After all, we’re all human.
Unfortunately for them they couldn’t burn all the books describing how people used to communicate with out language. They couldn’t erase all traces of our history where we were all free, more free than we are now. When lovers could say “I love you,” and ordinary people could hold extraordinary conversations.
Soon, very soon, it’ll all come crumbling around them.
See, I’ve come into possession of an extremely coveted and hated book, well hated by those who see themselves as better. A book that teaches how to speak without words, how to hold full complex conversations without ever having to utter a sound.
I’ve found a sign language book.
All the words I’ve ever wanted to say now lay there in front of me without prices attached. They’re free of strings.
Slowly yet surely I’ve been teaching others how to speak this way, giving them the power of being true equals. As we grow, as our confidence as humans grow, we will make a change. We will cast down this ridiculous system of having to pay for words. Words! We will either throw those that impose this upon us down or we will create a new and better place. One where someone doesn’t have to pay for words to feel like they’re as smart, or privileged, or that words are the only way to get places in life. This new system will truly be run by the people, not just the rich and well off. Worth won’t be decided by how much you can pay to speak.
It will be like the second Revolution. And just as those before us we will rise better and stronger, wary of power.
And then we will be free. | 2017-09-20T16:27:10 | 2017-09-20T15:18:15 | 39 | 11 |
[WP] In order to get a shot at going to Valhalla, you must die with a weapon in your hands. You just died and are now sitting in front of Odin's advisory board as they discuss whether a spatula actually counts. | Odin leaned forward in his gilded throne, his single eye judging the young man who stood before him.
"What do you make of this, mortal?" Odin asked looking to his left and right, down the line of gods.
Thor scoffed, "This pathetic creature is no warrior! Look at his frail limbs and tiny body. How many frost giants have you slain?"
"Uh, none," the young man stammered out.
"How many of your foes have you deceived in order to turn the tide of war?" Loki asked behind steepled fingers.
"I don't really like lying," the young man answered.
"And what of that weapon in your hand? How many lives has that taken? How many trophies have you carved from the bodies of the fallen?"
"Well it doesn't really do any of that."
"Does it have any mystical properties? Perhaps it returns when you throw it?" Thor asked caressing his hammer.
The young man shook his head no.
"Then why are you here? What can you possibly do to earn your place here among the greatest heroes of all time?"
The young man thought for a moment and hefted the metal spatula.
"It does have a power. Something that very few things can possess," he paused and met the eyes of the gods sitting in front of him.
"It has the power to slay hunger!" he roared and thrust the spatula into the air.
Odin slammed his hands down on the table, thunder tore through the chamber shaking the young man violently. A small smile spread across his lips and his chest began to heave. Laughter bubbled up from inside of Odin and he found himself gripping his sides trying to contain his laughter. He wiped away a lone tear that streaked down his wrinkled cheek.
"Ah, my boy. It has been too long since I have laughed like that. It brings me great pleasure," he paused stifling another bout of laughter, "To banish you to Hel."
The floor beneath the young man's feet vanished sending him plummeting through darkness to Hel waiting below.
---
Thanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories!
| "An army marches on its stomach"
The plump, balding man was dwarfed beneath the titans of asgard; yet his stance was solid.
"and so for a spear to thrust, so then a spatula must first have been thrust 'neath an egg." An unsure glance was shared around the counsel. "Stories of fantastic battles are shared amongst beer and cod; great warriors roaring and boasting between mouthfuls." Said the little man, still clutching his weaponry and growing with confidence.
"Heimdall, I doubt keeping watch over Asgard is bearable without constant snacks," Carl addressed the golden eyed watcher. He was given a slow nod in response.
"Thor has been known to eats farms before battle and complain worse about a missed meal than an open gash in his side!" A few members looked toward the empty seat which usually held the God of ~~Hammers~~ Thunder. Murmur and chuckles of agreement were had.
"Great Odin, more wars have been won with my weapon than with yours, I'd challenge you to wage one without this." Carl raised his stainless steel spatula and looked straight into the eye of the Allfather, unable to read his face.
"...I might add I've swatted hundreds of flies with this in my kitchen so the kill count is technically pretty high..."
A loud hearty laugh filled the hall as the Allfather hooted and banged on the table in front of him.
"Carl Carlson, your case has been made clear. I have never and *will* never begin battle without a weapon for slaying my hunger. Enjoy Valhalla!" roared Odin with the entire counsel smiling as the giant gates opened for the tiny cook.
| 2022-04-10T19:23:46 | 2018-03-26T13:56:51 | 393 | 10 |
[WP] Your day job is a sex line operator and your night job is a suicide hotline prevention operator. You have a hard time keeping track of which job you're at. NSFW | “Mmmm. And how does that make you feel?” I am zoning off again.
The voice on the other line sounds as if it is having trouble breathing. I had heard the signs before. This is a tell-tale sign of a full-blown panic attack. I need to do something, fast!
“Everything is going to be okay. Breathe. I can send help if you need it.”
“Wow! I… d-d-didn't know you offered THAT k-kind of service t-too. How m...much ex..tra?”
“No, sir, it’s not money but your comfort that we’re worried about.”
“I… I am capable of finishing on my own!”
A thousand panic bells sound in my head at once. I swiftly forward the call to 911 and attempt to calm him down. “No! I mean- be patient. Help is on its way. You are not alone. You are never alone.”
“I d-d-d-don’t know h-how patient you expect me to be! I just need a release!”
“Sir, this is very serious. A permanent solution to a temporary problem. You can make it through.”
“Wh-what are you t-talking about… babe… Why is there an ambulance pulling into my drive?” All hint of panic flees his voice.
“They’re going to take you away for a while. The important thing is that you’re going to live to see another dawn.”
“I just wanted to talk to a sweet lady and beat my-” He is cut off by the paramedics rushing in. I hang up the phone and smile, knowing I just helped save yet another life. | "Hey baby, how are you today?"
"Not good at all. Today is the day. Today is the day I'm going to explode."
"Woahh, slow down there cowboy, we don't want you exploding just yet. Now tell me, do you wanna know what I'm wearing?"
"What? No! That's exactly what I'm talking about. It's always about everyone but me. Why can't someone care about what *I'm* wearing."
"Relax hunny, this is *all* about you. I was just trying to put you in a more comfortable place."
"Haha, yeah. A "more comfortable" place. There's nothing more comfortable than being up here on this ledge."
"I'm just about on the edge too, baby. Why don't you come down here and pound my pussy to push me *over* the edge."
"......... You want to have sex with me?!!?"
*Of course, sweetheart, I want you to fuck me really hard. It will only be about $250."
...
"Baby?"
...
"Hunny, you ther- SPLAT!" | 2015-06-15T18:33:28 | 2015-06-15T18:12:11 | 1,666 | 329 |
[WP] Write the most elaborate, over-dramatic, and exciting story you can think of that all just turns out to be a set-up for a pun so horrible I'll want to punch you
It actually doesn't have to be dramatic or exciting or anything similar, just make sure it's elaborate so the final pun delivery is a gut-wrenching blow | It was Tuesday morning. God I hate Tuesdays.
You see, when you work in the sawmill of a small town, logs shipment usually comes in on Wednesdays. That keeps us busy for three days, sometime four, but Tuesdays are always dead.
This means that on Tuesdays, I have to listen to Tom, Jim and Preston talk about their meaningless fantasy football league ALL day. However, this particular Tuesday was going to be even worst.
You see, when you work in the sawmill of a small town, security measures aren't always 'by the book'. This means that accidents happen occasionally, sometime frequently, and Monday's accident was a pretty nasty one.
Grabbing a coffee in the office's kitchen should be a pretty simple task, except when Tom, Jim and Preston are there. And since it was Tuesday morning, they we're obviously there, ready to chat.
''Did you hear about Gerry?! His arm got stuck in the big WM yesterday, his whole left arm was chopped by the saw!''
''Yes Tom, I was there.''
''It wasn't just his arm, they say his leg got caught up as well!''
''Yes Jim, I was there.''
''He should of just stopped moving, I heard part of his face was ripped when he tried to pull himself out!''
''Yes Preston, I was there.''
As if my favorite trio wasn't enough, this dude from accounting felt the need to visit our shop this morning to discuss the accident.
''Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off yesterday?!''
''Yes, he's all right now.''
| My friends ask me why I did it, and while I had no straight forward answer to give them, I always tell them "If I don't do it, who will? Who will pave the path ahead of us if not me? Someone has to take the risk and go where no one has gone before."
I did it! I've finally done it.
Three days I've spent without food, water, or sleep, constantly vigilante and watching my back for I know not where the next blow will come from.
Giant creatures soared past me, screaming as they do so, terrifying.
I spent the last day crawling across the tarmac, as my legs no longer had the strength to hold me up.
Over the last 3 days I have almost died nearly 20 times, truly a miracle that I am still alive and that I finally reached my destination.
I've lost one of my limbs and my body is covered in dirt and blood, but once again I am alive, and I made it.
**I AM, the chicken, that crossed the fucking road!**
________________________________________________________________________________________________
EDIT: May not have been what you really wanted for this prompt, but I tried good sir, I tried. | 2015-01-13T10:39:25 | 2015-01-13T09:52:04 | 188 | 21 |
[WP] You have the ability to heal people from any disease by simply touching them with your left hand. As your popularity grows, people begin to wonder why you are wearing a glove on your right hand. | I smile at the woman in front of me. She’s tall and slender with a form fitting red dress and tightly curled hair. A clipboard rests in her lap. She begins to read off of it in a thick Scottish accent coated in a cheerful tone.
“Good morning Mrs. Hudson! I have no doubt that the whole world, including myself, has been waiting to hear this interview. Why don’t we start off with a simple question?”
I nod my approval, working hard to remember to keep up a steady, smiling face as cameras click in the background.
“What exactly is it that you do that has made the whole world go nuts about you?”
Simple. Easy. I can handle this. “Well, for those living under a rock,” I begin, throwing a wink and a grin at the camera, “I actually have a special ability in which I am able to cure anyone of any ailment. I don’t know where it came from, quite honestly. I just noticed little things at first. Doing a handshake with a cousin and he stopped sniffling from a cold. Brushing past my moms best friend and hearing that her cancer had vanished. I connected the dots eventually and started trying to use my ability for good... I suppose that’s when the general public took interest in it.”
The interviewer smiled and nodded. “It’s quite a remarkable ability, Mrs. Hudson. And impressive that you decided to use it for good. Will you ever find yourself setting up an organization so that you can heal as many people as possible?”
My heart starts to thump, lightly reminding me that the slightest screw up could land me in jail, or even dead. I swallow and answer carefully, all while consciously keeping a big smile on my face.
“Unfortunately that is not in the foreseeable future. I heal as many people as I can. The truth is that this is quite a draining task, and I usually can’t heal more than four or five people in a day.”
“That is unfortunate but I’m sure the viewers understand. Now, you may have heard that we put out a poll to decide on one audience based question that we should ask you. This one won by far, and our viewers are eager to hear the answer.”
I already know the question. My heart rate quickens even more, but at the same time confidence courses through my veins.
“Many of your fans have noticed that you keep a glove on your right hand. You never take it off. So... Mrs. Hudson, we’d like to know why.”
I smile and relax back into my chair. I take my time, have a sip of water, and let the suspension draw out for another second.
“Not an uncommon question, that one,” I say, chuckling lightly. “And the answer... well, it’s not what most would expect, honestly. When I was a child my hand was run over by a car. Completely crushed and destroyed - boring, I know. I keep it in a glove mainly for safety purposes and joint support. And I prefer not to take it out.”
That last sentence I say with warning in my voice. I can’t let them know why I actually wear this glove. That I can take over the mind of anyone I touch. That I can destroy someone’s life with the brush of a fingertip. I can’t let them know that the real reason I go around healing people is so I can have a healthy army when I take over. And I can’t let them know that they will soon be nothing but mindless puppets. | A lot of people I’ve healed think I’m some kind of god. Maybe I am, maybe I ain’t. I was born with the ability to heal folks just by touching ‘em with my left hand, and I’ve been makin’ a livin’ from runnin’ my own medical practice up in the big city. I did go to doctor school and all that so’s I could get a college degree and move outta my shitty little trailer park town, but I didn’t really give much of a damn about what them folks taught me.
Nonetheless, my healing powers got me a helluva lotta customers from all over the world who paid hundreds, sometimes thousands of dollars to fly down to Atlanta and visit the famed “Life Giver”. I didn’t come up with that nickname, nor did I really like it at first, but it sorta grew on me after a while. I’ve cured cancers, reversed severe cases of leprosy, and mended many, many broken bones over the six or so years I’ve been running my practice. I’ve healed damn near all types of folks, from superstar celebrities who give me thousands to treat their STDs to poor immigrants with life-threatenin’ illnesses who don’t got a penny to their name. Everyone I’ve ever healed has praised me and my left hand, and up until recently, no one’s really paid much mind to the glove I keep on my right hand.
Up until now, the only people who knew about the dark, sinister power that my right hand had were my ma and pa, my beautiful wife, and my sweet little boy. I made him promise to me that he’d never hold my right hand when my glove wasn’t on. For you see, while my left hand gave life, my right hand took it. I first found out it did when I tried shakin’ my local pastor’s hand as a kid. Poor ol’ man’s skin instantly turned blacker than coal, and he dropped dead to the ground faster than I could grab him with my other hand. From that point on, I vowed to always keep that hand covered. I promised myself that I wouldn’t kill nobody with it, but there have been times where elderly patients have asked me to end their lives, and as shameful as it is to admit, I’ve helped ‘em pass on if they felt it was time to go. I always tell ‘em it’ll hurt like hell, but they still insist. Those cases where I have to put patients down are always the ones that stick in my head. I carry their memories in my mind for a while, wonderin’ if they’re up in Heaven with the Good Lord...
My life has changed so much from havin’ these powers of mine. Sometimes I toss and turn at night, and I worry a lot about whether or not I’m abusin’ the power I wield over life and death, but then I look at all the pictures I’ve taken of all the people I’ve given life back to and go back to sleep with a big ol’ smile on my face. | 2019-04-13T07:16:57 | 2019-04-13T07:04:54 | 24 | 15 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.